John Holmes - Even Zombie Killers Get the Blues

The guys at the gate were processing civilians onto the base for a work detail. Outside the gate, enclosed in another berm, was a tent city run by FEMA. Civilian refugees lived in the tents, waiting to get resettled back west, or just recovering from the ordeal of the last few years. I stayed out of the camps with a passion. Many of them were sorts of zombies themselves who were overjoyed the government had finally come to save them. Forced to survive, they dropped everything as soon as someone came along to “rescue” them. They came in by ones and twos, in small groups, following the helos broadcasting a “FOLLOW ME” relief message as they flew around the Hudson Valley and the surrounding areas.

Many stayed out there. We ran into them occasionally, like the farmers up by Schuylerville. They didn’t need anyone to come rescue them, and I liked hanging with them. However, we needed rest, food, ammo, medical care for Brit and direction on where to go next. Our house was destroyed, and I didn’t want to hang out with the Army for too long.

We were in the chow hall when a UH-60 came thundering down onto the pad, and in a few minutes, Major Flynn, the Task Force Empire Operations Officer, walked into the tent, followed by a squad of Infantry. They spread out to cover every angle, and he walked up and sat down at our table. You could have heard a pin drop.

“Morning, Nick.”

“Morning, John.”

He looked around for a second, and then took a deep breath.

“I’m only going to ask you this once.”

I noticed Brit sliding her hand towards her leg holster, and one of the troops started to raise his M-4. I held up my finger, she slid her hand away and Major Kelley shook his head toward the trooper. He lowered his rifle, but I could see him eyeing Brit. She stared back at him.

Major Flynn started again. “LTC MacDonald disappeared off Fort Orange sometime last night. Your crew rolled out of the gate there sometime early this morning, and no one remembers you coming onto the base at all. We’ve had a Predator following you down from Troy, all along 787, and the cameras on the Hoosick Street Bridge barricade mysteriously short circuited just before we picked you up with the UAV. A team sent to check out the site reported a huge crowd of zombies pushing up against the barricades.”

I thought furiously. Down 787 from Troy. So they hadn’t seen what had happened at the barricade, and there was nothing they could prove. Time to play my cards close.

“So, like I said, I’m only going to ask you once. Did you have anything to do with LTC MacDonald going missing?”

I lied straight to his face, and he knew it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We came to pick up Brit.”

“Kind of funny when you were reported dead a few days ago.”

“Well, we are kinda hard to kill, I suppose. Why don’t you ask his toady, SGM Peters? They’re never too far from each other.”

“Kinda funny that you mention him. Apparently, also last night, someone broke SGM Peter’s jaw and gave him a concussion. Strange coincidences, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sir, you’re sitting talking to me on a base constructed in a major American city which has burned to the ground, after we were overrun by dead people who came back alive and wanted to eat us. Nothing surprises me anymore. If the Pope turned out to be the Navy SEAL who killed Bin Laden, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Brit actually laughed, and a small smile broke on Major Flynn’s hard scowl. He sat back on the bench and studied all of us for a minute. Then he stood up, and motioned for his squad to follow him.

“I didn’t like that asshole either, Nick. Next time, be more careful. We almost caught you in the act. In fact, to ensure there is no next time, you’re going to have some company on your next mission.”

“Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Check your e-mail, new mission orders in there. Take your time to get rested up, and next time Jonesy punches someone in the head, tell him to take off his rings first. FYI, I’m acting commander of the Task Force now, so keep your shit wired tight.”

I shot a quick look at Jonesy, who glanced down at the big rings on his right hand. Major Flynn laughed and walked out the tent, followed by his goons.

FROM: CDR@TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

TO: LOSTBOYS6@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

CC: S3@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL; J3@MIDATLCOM.MIL; JFOPS@NAVY.MIDATLCOM.MIL

SUBJ: FRAGO 21 OPORDER 17-034 OPERATION HAWKEYE

REFERENCE:

TASK ORGANIZATION: IRREGULAR SCOUTS / TF EMPIRE / U.S. ARMY / MIDATLANTIC COMMAND

1. SITUATION: Unknown conditions at United States Military Academy

2. MISSION: Determine strength of infestation of grounds USMA. Determine usability of facilities. Examine Bear Mountain Bridge and NY State Military Facilities at Camp Smith.

3. EXECUTION: NLT 20170815100 unit will provide information to higher command on location conditions. Travel will be downriver using TF Empire Naval Elements, with insertion of team onto USMA grounds on west side of Hudson River.

4. SUSTAINMENT: None

5. COMMAND / SIGNAL: PER OPERATIONS ORDER 17-034 ANNEX B

We gathered in the Firebase Ops tent and I cleared off a table, spreading out a set of 1:100k maps of the Hudson Valley, from Albany down to just above New York City. Various things were marked out on the map.

“OK, listen up. This is the best and latest Intel we have from over flights, recon patrols, and refugees.” I handed a pointer to Captain Featherstone, the Firebase Intelligence Officer.

“First up, environmental issues. We’ve got a red zone here—” and he pointed to an area in northern Westchester County “—where Indian Point Reactor had a full meltdown. The area downwind, due east mostly for 20 miles, is a hot zone. I know you’re not going that far downriver, but any Zs you meet south of, say, Bear Mountain Bridge, are going to probably be hot. That means ANY contact with them and you can get secondary radiation poisoning. So, MOPP suits in that area.”

The crew broke out in laughter, and the Captain got a puzzled look on his face. Jonesy filled him in.

“No offense to your fobbitness, Sir, but ain’t no way we are going to wear them things. Middle of summer, wearing full chemical gear, and we gotta run from Z? We gonna drop after a hundred meters sprint and we be dead anyway. Plus, you ain’t got one my size. Then again, I be running free and crazy, and the rest of them guys get eaten! Hahahah! OW! You white she-devil!”

Brit had punched him as hard as she could in the shoulder. {1} 1 ß she punches in the shoulder a LOT.

“OK, I’m just letting you know the dangers. Next, Newburgh on the west and Poughkeepsie on the east, major, major infestations. Also, there is a horde of strays moving south down from Fishkill towards Camp Smith. Estimate ten thousand plus. They should be past the Camp Smith AO by the time you insert. We’ve got a Predator watching them, so we’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Yeah right” Doc muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he said brightly, and he smiled at the Captain. I drummed my fingers on the table and motioned for the S-2 to continue.

“Right, then. Next is refugees and other human activity. Recon tangled with a hold out here, just south of Catskill. Tried to bring them in and they were fired on. Lost one KIA and two wounded.”

I was up in the air about the “bringing them in” part. Official policy was establishing contact, provide supplies, and talk to them about coming into the refugee camps. Thing is, few people who had survived the last few years wanted to be part of the big government anymore. My team left them alone, but some of the team leaders were a bit pushier Problem is, they often pushed back. Sometimes it’s still the wild, wild east.