Even Zombie Killers Get The Blues (Zombie Killer Blues) (11 page)

Chapter 28

Jonesy kicked me in the shoulder.

“Hey Nick, where the hell is the dog?”

“What dog?” I made a swirling “he’s crazy” motion
next to my head and Brit smirked.

“The dog, man. Rocket. We had a dog when we started
out on the last mission.”

“Jonesy, for the last time, there was no dog. Doc,
can you please give him some more meds? He’s starting with the dog thing again.”

“Nick, quit fucking with me. WE HAD A DOG.”

“I am not messing with you, Jonesy. I don’t know why
you think we had a dog.”

“Yo, we had a dog, and his name was Rocket, and he
was with us when we left the house.”

“Any of you remember a dog?”

A chorus of no, nope, I would have eaten it,
negative.

“You all are crazy. We had a dog.”

Jonesy went back to scanning for targets up in the
turret. Every now and then I could hear him mutter I KNOW WE HAD A DOG.

Stress. It gets to people.

PART
II

Chapter 29

We pulled into Firebase Benedict an hour later. The
base itself sat on the remains of the Port of Albany, which had burned down to
the ground in a firestorm early in the Apocalypse. The ground was crisped black
where it hadn’t been dragged up by the bulldozers berming up the base. The oil
had soaked into the ground, making it a nasty mess.

Something they missed again in the Zombie movies.
When civilization breaks down,
it breaks down
. Like I said before,
things burn. When industrial facilities were left unattended, whether through
negligence or arson, they lit up like a torch. I remember watching from the
hills as the columns of smoke rose above the cities. The fuel oil and other
flammables burned for days on end. Around us, as we pulled in, the pipes and
tanks lay at crazy angles, melted and sagging. All the ports on the East Coast,
the Gulf area, the refineries had burned for days and days on end. In the Gulf,
oil platforms still burned. Wellheads had been pouring oil into the water until
the Navy had detonated nukes right over the wellheads, fusing the seabed. I’m
pretty sure the fish from the gulf area would be glowing in the dark for a
while, but better than billions of gallons of oil gushing into the water.   

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.

Chapter 30

FROM: [email protected]

TO: LOSTBOYS6@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL
CC: S3@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL; [email protected]; [email protected]

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.
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.

“We expect that there are others in the mountainous
areas in the Catskills, and up in the Taconic Hills. Down by the river, though,
not much expected. Everyone was pretty much starved out. That’s all I’ve got.”

“What about West Point, Camp Smith, all the areas
we’re going to be humping a ruck?”

“What about them?”

“Do you have any Intel?”

“Isn’t that why you’re going there?”

“I guess so. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Apparently my sarcasm went right over
his head.

The Operations Officer stepped over, and took up the
briefing.

“In support of ongoing recon operations, we’re
moving a two-gun, 105mm Howitzer section by barge down to Bannerman Island to
establish a blocking position and Combat Outpost, COP Castle. Attached will be
an Infantry platoon and Engineering Squad, plus a commo detachment for signal
relay.”

“Your team will be inserted by gunboat at this point--”
and he tapped the map on the west bank of the River, “--just above the lower
landing at the West Point grounds. Your objective is to recon the grounds of
the US Military Academy, check and see if the place can be used.”

“Can I ask you a question? Why West Point? There are
a lot of better places to fortify, and it’s not really much of a strategic
place anymore. I don’t think the Zombies will be sailing up the river anytime
soon.”

Ahmed answered me. “It’s like this, Nick. Of course
in today’s day, there is no need for fortifications as such. However, it is a
very powerful symbol to the American people. A sign that things are getting
back to normal as such.”

The Ops officer nodded. “Pretty much. You’re going
to put your asses on the line to make a statement. Nothing new.”

“Better than being fed a line of bullshit. Thanks.”

“No problem. Your other objective is Camp Smith. NY
Army National Guard base. We’re interested in the barracks, arms rooms, backup
generators, etc. The base is a lot smaller, more easily defended than West
Point. Let us know how habitable it is.”

“Isn’t that a little close to Indian Point?”

“Over flight sensors say that it’s safe.”

Brit snickered and he shot her a dirty look.

“It’s a simple in and out. No more than three days
on the ground.”    

“So was the last mission. Brit got shot, and we lost
three team members.”

“Well then, this should be a vacation for you. See
you in a week. The boat leaves at 0700.”

We broke up the meeting, and each of us went our
separate ways. Scrounge ammo, eat a good meal, take care of equipment, catch up
on Power Point Ranger’s cartoons, update Facebook status, call home from the
Verizon Phone Tent, let the world know we’re still alive.