These Dead Lands: Immolation (26 page)

“But what if POTUS is still alive?” Jarmusch asked. “Or the VP or the speaker? We don’t know that they aren’t.”

“But what if they aren’t?” Victor shot back. “We’ve been broadcasting for weeks, and we haven’t established reliable contact with anyone. No major combatant commands, no individuals who were even in hunting distance of the National Command Authority. Hell, not even a member of the House of Representatives, and they’re supposed to be tougher than cockroaches.” Victor seemed to remember Cornell’s station, and he looked at the senator quickly. “Ah, no offense, sir. That was a poor choice of words on my part.”

Cornell snorted. “Well, I was elected to the Senate, not the House, so we’re good.” He looked over at Jarmusch. “Colonel? You’ve made many valid points. I’d like to hear what else you have to say.”

Jarmusch sighed wearily. He rubbed his face then put his elbows on the table as he leaned forward. “Senator, I don’t know about this. I’m uncomfortable with it, even though I think I agree with the general idea that it’s necessary for someone, someone from the civilian leadership establishment, to start pulling things together. But at the end of the day, you were elected to the senate by the people of Pennsylvania, not to the presidency through either popular or electoral college votes. I’m a bit worried about getting behind this. I’m not worried for myself. We’ve got more pressing matters that concern me more in that area. But I am concerned about the health of the nation as a whole.”

Cornell nodded. “I understand. What do you see as a viable alternative?”

Jarmusch considered that question for a long moment. “I’m afraid I don’t have one, sir.”

Victor turned to the man seated to his right, a short, swarthy lieutenant colonel named Herbert. “XO? Opinion?”

Herbert looked surprised to have been recognized. He glanced around the table. None of the other officers would meet his gaze, and Cornell could tell that the rest of them were eager to avoid attracting any attention, except for one—Command Sergeant Major Oratious Parker, a tall, broad-shouldered black man from central Texas with a completely bald head and piercing dark eyes that took in everything. Cornell didn’t know Parker well. The only thing the two men shared was their race. Cornell was the son of a modestly prominent dentist in Pittsburgh, while he believed Parker had been a farm boy somewhere south of Dallas, north of Austin, and east of Odessa. But of all the men in the room, Cornell figured Parker carried the biggest punch. While the officers ran the operations, Parker took care of the troops.

Herbert finally responded, “I think Senator Cornell is the man we’re looking for, sir.”

“Parker?” Victor asked.

“He’s a politician,” Parker stated. “Good record. No scandals I’m aware of. Prior service, even if it was with the Tenth. We could do a lot worse and probably not much better, sir.”

Cornell acknowledged Parker with a nod.

Jarmusch looked at a major seated across the table from him, a Guard officer named Glennon. “Pat? Have an opinion to share?”

Major Glennon glanced up at Jarmusch then went back to studying his big hands. Cornell thought he had working man’s hands, the kind one might find on a construction worker or auto mechanic. His short blond hair was speckled with a liberal dose of gray, and his features were big and blunt. Aside from Parker, he appeared to be the most physically intimidating man in the room, but his demeanor was of a different sort. He seemed reluctant to speak.

“Go on, Major,” Cornell said. “You have the floor. If you have doubts, now’s the time.”

“I’m just an assistant manager of a Home Depot, down in Allentown,” Glennon said. “I’m not the kind of guy who gets to pick a president, other than by casting a vote.”

“So vote,” Victor said.

Glennon shook his head. “Sorry, sirs. This one isn’t for me.”

“You have a voice here, Major,” Cornell said. “Everything about this is unusual. So even if you’re uncomfortable with what’s going on, you should still speak up. There won’t be any retribution either way. Correct, Colonel Jarmusch?”

Jarmusch seemed startled by the question. “Of course not, sir. I’m not in charge of what people think, only of this post.” He looked across the table at Glennon. “Come on, Glennon. Out with it.”

“I don’t think I want to be part of this,” Glennon said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Major,” Cornell said. “I’ll consider your reluctance to be a no, which does not offend me in any way. I have to earn everyone’s trust, and if I don’t have yours yet, then that’s how it should be.”

“Anyone else?” Victor asked.

No one in the room said anything. Victor nodded and crossed his arms, looking down at Jarmusch. “Alex?”

Jarmusch looked miserable. “I’m having a tough time getting behind this.”

Victor turned to Cornell. “Senator, the motion seems to be in your favor by plurality. How do you want to handle this?”

“Quietly for the moment, Colonel Victor.” Cornell tried to make eye contact with each man at the table. “Gentlemen, as officers of the US military, you have all heard what has transpired here today and bear witness to it. I now ask you not to let what was said leave this room. I do
not
wish to announce this until such time that we have determined that I am, in fact, the remaining senior member of the US government. Until then, you should operate as normal, following the orders of those appointed above you. I will bear full responsibility for any orders that I issue to the military while filling the office of the president of the United States, even if my authority is later found to be invalid.”

Cornell had never heard a silence that could be called deafening until that moment. He could see that no one really knew what to think, not even Victor. They were all bearing witness to a historical event, whether they liked it or not.

Surprisingly, Jarmusch spoke first. “I can at least agree to that, sir.”

“Same here, sir,” Victor added.

Cornell nodded. “Then if no one has anything to add, let’s move forward and discuss what our courses of action are. Has there been any progress with analyzing the collected blood samples?”

*

Hastings stared at
a remote video terminal displaying the feed from a Shadow unmanned aerial vehicle. The UAV was flying a reconnaissance mission along the route he had identified earlier.

“Sir, we’re coming up on the rail yard,” the UAV operator told him. The console was consisted of several widescreen computer monitors mounted behind a desk that held a keyboard and two sets of flight controls. The operator manipulated the controls, and the commands were transmitted over an encrypted link to the distant Raven aerial vehicle.

Hastings studied the imagery being broadcast from the Raven. To him, it looked like some hopped-up flight simulator. “Okay. Set the UAV in an orbit around it when it gets there, I need to be able to determine if there’s a train engine there or not. Sergeant Ballantine, can you ask the locomotive engineer to come over and look at the feed? Uh, what was his name again?”

“Lieutenant Munn, sir. I’ll go and get him. You want me to bring back any chow for you?” Ballantine asked as he got to his feet.

“No, I’m good. But if you can scrounge up a can of Copenhagen, that would be great,” Hastings said, smiling. He knew Ballantine hated the stuff with a passion.

Ballantine rolled his eyes and laughed as he walked off. Hastings turned back to the video feed as the UAV passed Reading Municipal Airport. The propeller-driven aircraft was getting close to its fifty-kilometer range, but the UAV operator had assured Hastings that they wouldn’t lose the feed and that the Shadow’s sensors would have no problem visualizing the rail yard three and a half kilometers farther downrange.

Hastings spotted a few small groups of reekers wandering around the streets below the Shadow. “Can you switch to FLIR?”

“Yes, sir. You do know that it will only show objects radiating heat, right?”

“I know. I’m just curious to see how the reekers look through infrared. We also might be able to see if there are any survivors in the area.”

The color image switched over to a display of grays and blacks. Most of the reekers showed up as cold objects, dark man-shaped shadows that tottered across the screen. Hastings had expected as much. But to his surprise, every once in a while he spotted a shambler that still sported a bit of a white glow. The brighter hue indicated radiant heat.

“Why do some of those reekers have a heat signature to them?” Hastings asked.

The operator shrugged. “My guess is that they’re newly turned and aren’t completely cold yet, sir.”

“Get some stills of the airfield in both camera modes before you start on the rail yard.”

Behind him, Ballantine said, “Sir, this is Lieutenant Munn.”

Hastings turned around. He had expected Ballantine to be accompanied by a young man, as lieutenants were junior officers in the Army. Instead, he was momentarily surprised to see a man at least a decade older than he was. He had to remind himself that the National Guard had older people in their ranks. “Lieutenant, I’m told you know how to drive a train,” Hastings said.

“Yes, sir. I’m a locomotive engineer, been doing it for about twelve years now. What can I do for you?”

“I need you to look at this UAV video feed. The system is currently over Reading and showing the rail yard. I need you to see if you can locate a locomotive we can use to bring shipping containers and supplies back to Indiantown Gap. If we can find an engine, I need you to drive it and work out any other logistical issues needed to move a train. Any problems with that from your side?”

“No, sir. None at all. All my certificates are current.” Munn stepped forward and looked down at the display.

“We’re also going to task the UAV to look at the rail yard south of here, down in Rutherford,” Hastings said. “Oh, I was told that there are others here with railroad experience. Later on, I’ll need you to round them up and come up with a plan on how to make all of this happen. My intent is to find shipping containers and bring them back to Indiantown to fortify the base perimeter, as well as to block avenues of approach from the bigger cities. We’ve already identified locations and choke points. We just need a way to move the containers around and emplace them.”

Munn nodded. “There are a few more people here that work the railroad, sir. Shouldn’t be a problem do what you’re asking.”

“Good to hear. Take a look at the video feed, and let me know if you see what you need. I think there are a couple of engines in the yard, but I don’t know their status. That’s where you come in.” Hastings got up and offered his chair to Munn. The older lieutenant nodded his thanks and took a seat.

“Ballantine, any progress on finding people capable of driving semis yet?” Hastings asked.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve identified several who are actually qualified and licensed, and a few more who know how to drive but aren’t licensed. That was pretty easy to do. I just went over and spoke to the Motor Pool sergeant. He wrote up a list of troops who can drive, including those we can use in a bind.”

“Well, this qualifies as a bind in my book,” Hastings said. “Make sure those personnel are kept in the loop and ready to go when this kicks off. I don’t expect there to be keys in the visors of any rigs we find, so make sure we have someone capable of overcoming that issue, as well as any locked doors.”

“Will do, sir. We also have trucks in the motor pool that can haul containers and trailers if push comes to shove.”

Lieutenant Munn looked up from the screen. “Sir, you were right. I see four engines in the yard.”

Hastings focused back on the RVT.

“Here and here,” Munn said, pointing out the locations. “Those are the engines we’ll need. We’re in luck. It looks like they were unloading recently, too. There’s a container crane on site. You can see the boom right there, along with quite a few flatbed cars.” He moved his finger a few centimeters. “These are all coal cars along this track over here. This is a hump yard, so not much gets loaded or unloaded here. Hump yards are just where cars are dropped off or picked up to go to their final destination. It looks like these four engines were either dropping off or picking up but never left.”

“So can we use the engines there and move along the tracks to pick up the containers?” Hastings asked.

“Yes, sir, I believe we can. I can take a few of the other rail guys with me to help disconnect the engines from those cars, then we can hook up the flatbed cars. We’ll put two engines on each end of the consist. That way, we can run both directions without having to turn an engine around.”

Hastings held up a hand. “Sorry. Consist?”

Munn smiled. “That’s what an element of railcars is called, sir. A consist.”

“Oh. All right. Go on.”

“I figure we could pull around two hundred to two hundred fifty container cars, especially if they’re empty. There is some grade to take into consideration, but I’m thinking we could easily move four hundred shipping containers on one train. Providing we can find that many, that is.”

“We’ll use the UAV to find them,” Hastings said. “Sounds like you’re an expert on this stuff, Lieutenant. What else?”