Mark Clodi - Discovery

Pointing at Riley who was on Stewart's heels, Amelia said, “Well it looks like the dog likes you now.”

“Fucking dog. I would shoot it if those boys wouldn't fall apart about it.”

Riley growled up at Stewart, but then stopped and cast her gaze at the field across the road. Following the dog's point of vision Stewart saw a zombie climbing the embankment on the other side of the highway.

“Zombie!” she yelled out, pulling out her pistol.

Max pulled Kenny to the other side of the minivan and shut the doors on that side, “You okay buddy?”

“Sure.”

“How are your jewels doing?”

“Hurt. Smashed 'em flat. Gonna bleed when I pee.”

“What did you say?”

“Pee blood. Hurts that bad.”

“How do you know that?”

Kenny stood upright and looked west at the clouds.

“Kenny? Have you been hurt there before?”

“Don't want to talk about it.”

“Fuck.”

“Don't swear. Please don't swear! It is against God!”

“Sorry. I am sorry. Kenny I know Seth was being mean to you and I know you didn't hit him as hard as you could have. But I don't want you to hit him again, okay?”

“I probably won't.”

“Promise?”

“I promise I probably won't hit Seth again.”

“Good enough. Did you and Seth go to school?”

“I used to, until high school, then I couldn't any more. Seth came then too.”

“Did Seth go to school?”

Kenny shook his head, “No it was summer.”

“Well before summer was he in school.”

“A little. He didn't like it much. He liked to watch television. And play with Riley and me.”

“Oh, okay. Did anyone ever talk to you about how Seth acts? About him yelling?”

“He has issues.”

“He didn't have any medicine or anything did he?”

“Yeah, for his issues.”

Max groaned, then asked, “You didn't have any medicine you had to take did you?”

“No. I am just not that smart. Seth has the issues.”

“Okay Kenny, I am going to talk with Seth and get him calmed down, then we will get to Tom's mom and dad's farm to go to bed.”

“Okay. Tell Seth not to kick me in the jewels, that really hurt.”

“I will.”

Then Stewart's cry of “Zombie!” rang out and Max found himself lifting a shotgun he didn't even remember bringing with him.

“Hop in the back seat Kenny! Nick, Cory, Erin and Jessica, get in the van now!” Max called out as he came around to where Tom and Stewart were watching a zombie climb the embankment to the road. Another head appeared, then another, and another, soon dozens of the walking dead were shambling up and over the road towards them.

“Drive away?” asked Stewart.

“Yeah, no point in tackling this bunch. At least it looks clear on our side.” Max said.

“Okay Tom and I will lead and keep moving until we get to Tom's place, unless something changes.”

“What about Seth?”

“What about him?”

“He okay?”

“No Seth is definitely not 'okay'. I think he is autistic.”

“Kenny says Seth took medicine every day.”

“Fucking great. We should have checked that this morning before we left.”

Max shrugged his shoulders, “We didn't know. We can talk about what to do tonight. Looks like the dog likes you now.”

“Yeah, great. Probably just wants to see what my other leg tastes like. Let's get moving before we have to fight our way out of here.”

The four adults quickly moved back to their vehicles and hopped in. The foot odor in the van was still strong, but no one was suggesting they stay any longer. Putting his foot on the gas the minivan surged forward after the police cruiser into North Platte.

The army believed in getting the men up early in the morning. Bill was not, by nature an early riser, so in this instance, his son John did better with getting up at five in the morning than he did. They had sent Will home with details of what had happened to them, along with both of their baggies of personal gear. The army took them with nothing and gave them every single piece of equipment and clothing they now had. 'Street Clothing' was confiscated and, if the rumors were true, burned. The zombies were coming, and the army did not have time to deal with deserters or six week long training programs. Team building was also secondary. Bill and John ended up in the same squad because they wanted to be in the same squad, along with them were eight other men from their town, including old Ruben Olson, who had been on the town council. The old man could not keep up with the younger men when it came to physical activity, but he could still fire a gun, which was all they needed. Plus the old coot had been in the army before and had seen some time in combat. Ruben, of all of them, knew how to game the system. When the squad was too tired to do things, Ruben had a breakdown and everyone had to stop. Ruben got them extra rations by 'forgetting' where he had put his, he pulled a couple other older men into the squad against at least two other men's protests and these men too, helped the squad out as a whole. The trio of old guys wheezed and moaned just enough that the officers had pulled the younger men aside one by one to tell them to look out for the old men. Once the entire squad knew what was going on, a process that took all of two days, everyone pitched in to make things look good for the brass, just good enough to get them out of kitchen patrol, the worst of the night watches and refurbishing rifles taken out of storage.

Training was to last ten days, with the possibility of it being cut short by three if the situation warranted it. The army was not pulling them in as regular troops, but as Iowa National Guard Militia. The 'militia' part was new, passed by legislation to indicate a streamlined training period that emphasized getting troops to the fronts as soon as possible. Of course the impossible job of the trainers was to make the groups of unruly men and boys follow orders without questioning them. This was key to functioning as an army and not as an armed mob. So far the complaining and 'mob' mentality was ruling the day.

The third evening the sergeants got together and had a meeting, leaving the corporals in charge of the squads. Bill didn't know what was going on, but as a corporal he suddenly found himself in command of the squad, he kindly suggest they use his reign to get some extra sack time and the squad heartily agreed, they had been woken up at three am for simulated 'night attacks' the previous morning and could use the rest. An hour into the squad wide nap the door to the nineteen fifties tent swung open and a group of twelve sergeants came in and woke them up. Their sergeant Mike Wilkes, stood at the back of the group, by the door, looking outside periodically. Another sergeant from a different platoon entirely stepped up with a laptop computer. He looked around at the half asleep men, all of whom had jumped up and stood at the foot of their beds when the door swung shut and said, “Alright soldiers. I expect to have less trouble with you than with some of the other squads. corporal, gather your men around so they can watch this.”

“Come on men, you heard the sergeant, let's take a look!” the men all moved forward to stand in front of the computer screen. The sergeant sat it on a stool and gestured for the men to sit down.

“We have some preliminary feedback from army units that have taken some 'volunteers' in with them at the front. This is out east. These men had three days training and were thrown at the front lines. Look what happens when they don't obey orders.”

What happened was a group of men, probably two platoons from what Bill could see, ran into a bunch of zombies. At first everything was going well for the humans, the zombies were being mowed down like wheat. Then the camera panned to the right flank where a non commissioned officer was telling the men to keep firing, but one man's rifle had jammed and he got scared and turned to flee. The sergeant ordered him to stop and return to his weapon, to hold the line. The man fled, his squad mates, still well back from the advancing zombies and still with plenty of firepower, started getting nervous. The sergeant sent the corporal after the lone man and ordered the others to pick up the pace.