These Dead Lands: Immolation (74 page)

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Hastings said. He took a second to give her a squeeze before releasing her. It didn’t feel half bad, hanging onto a woman for a moment. “We’ll see each other again. Take care of yourself. I’ve got to roll.”

“You too,” Diana said.

Hastings exchanged a nod with Kay then struck off toward the rear of the car. Ballantine and Guerra watched him approach, the latter with a small smirk on his face. Hastings stared at Guerra, daring him to say anything. Guerra wiped the smirk away in an instant.

“All right, Ballantine, you’re on your own with these people,” Hastings told the tall NCO. “Get them to Colorado. They’re your responsibility now, and I expect you and Staff Sergeant Guerra to do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

“Yes, sir. Completely understood,” Ballantine said.

“I mean
all
of them, Ballantine. Not just your dependents.”

“Hooah, Captain. We got it,” Guerra said. He paused. “But do we have to take care of Stilley, too?”

“Hey! Yeah, man, take care of me,” Stilley said from the vestibule separating the coaches. “I’d like some coffee and a newspaper and a nice white terrycloth bathrobe from the Beverly Hills Hotel, just like my man Axel Foley in
Beverly Hills Cop
.”

“You’ll be lucky to get one of Kenny’s used diapers shoved down your throat, retard,” Guerra snarled.

Stilley chuckled and started humming “More Than a Woman.”

Guerra made a frustrated noise and turned back to Hastings. “Seriously, sir, we’re good to go on this,” he said, glancing quickly at Ballantine. “We’re not going to let anything happen to our people. Unless this train flies off the rails somewhere down the line, everyone’s going to make it to Colorado.”

Ballantine nodded. “That’s how it’ll be, sir.”

Hastings released his breath in a rushing sigh. “All right. I’m with Victor. You guys take care of yourselves.”

He pushed past them and stepped into the vestibule, where he told Stilley and Hartman to keep their heads above water. He shouted the same to Tharinger, who stood on the ground outside the right boarding door. He exited to the left, said his farewells to Reader, then jogged back to the flatbed car where Victor and the others were waiting.

The lead diesel’s horn sounded, and the throbbing engines began to rev up. The train was moving out.

*

The Naval facility
was mostly devoid of zombies when the train arrived, but enough were there to mandate that the soldiers offload the military vehicles as rapidly as possible. Using the ramps, they rolled HEMTs, five-ton trucks, Humvee gun trucks, and MRAPS off the flat-bed cars and onto the ground. The process was tedious process and not at all speedy. It took several minutes to unchain a vehicle, guide it to the ramps, and then drive it off the rail car.

Hastings was dismounted with a good amount of regular Army troops, while Guard provided security. He saw his own guys around the passenger coaches, but he didn’t go over and talk with them. They’d already said their good-byes.

He did find that Diana was on his mind, and by extension, Kenny. He didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t know if there
was
something to be made of it. He was still reeling from the loss of his family, so a romantic entanglement with a crazy stripper who was currently the caregiver of an autistic boy who wasn’t even hers was a bit much for him to take on right now.
Hell, even if I was single and in a good frame of mind, that would be a big-ticket item.

Everyone was on edge. The zombie hordes weren’t very close, and it would take a few hours for them to arrive at the Naval Support Activity installation, but nearby Mechanicsburg had more than a few reekers of its own. Though the herds had apparently moved on after the operation to recover the trains had ended, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t be coming back. The trains, cranes, and vehicles were making more than enough noise to draw the dead, not to mention the occasional gunshot that rang out when one or two ghouls got too close.

Hastings kept his rifle handy while he took the opportunity to replenish his spent magazines and fill up his CamelBak. When it appeared the train wasn’t about to get immediately overrun, he even broke down his M4 for a quick cleaning. The weapon was filthy, and he was surprised it hadn’t malfunctioned. The FireClean oil Tharinger had given him really did work wonders. He’d run thousands of rounds through it that day, and it was a wonder the barrel wasn’t worn smooth.

“Hey, Captain, your shit running right?”

Hastings looked up and found Slater standing next to him. “Hey, Sergeant Slater, what brings you here?”

“I’ve been ordered to stick close to Victor. I guess he wants a Green Beret for a valet or something.”

Hastings snorted. “Well, you have all those special snake-eater skills, Slater. Of course he’d want you where he could find you.”

“Yeah, well, in my experience, sitting in the ring seats where the decisions are being made is a combination of boring and enraging. Hopefully, I’ll be able to contain myself.” Slater brightened. “Hey, you catch that shit between Everson and Walker?”

“Well, yeah. I was in the same truck you were.”

“Old man still has some piss and vinegar in him, huh? I was just gonna shoot the guy with the fifty and call it a day, but the world’s most ancient Marine apparently has a flare for the dramatic. Glad he’s on our side.”

Hastings nodded and went back to servicing his rifle. He didn’t think Everson had done something commendable, any more than he thought the former Marine had done something horrible. The world had changed, and people like Walker were going to fuck it up for everyone with their “Looking Out for Number One” style. Hastings was neither happy nor sad the guy was dead, nor did he feel strongly about the manner of his death. Walker wasn’t someone very useful to have around, and Everson had just taken care of it for them.

“Well, I guess I’d better go check in with the colonel,” Slater said. “I’m sure he’s going to be keeping you close, too, Captain. He seems to lean on you pretty heavily. Thank God you actually know what you’re doing.”

“Why, Slater, was that a compliment?”

Slater shrugged. “I don’t know. Let me think about it. Later, sir.”

“Later.” Hastings watched Slater walk away then turned back to his rifle.
That is one odd guy.

When the vehicles were offloaded, the senior officers began rounding up all the Army troops. Hastings was assigned to the front right seat of an MRAP, which suited him just fine. The MRAP was the perfect vehicle for the zombie apocalypse.

The column formed up and began rolling for the gate. Hastings had enough time to introduce himself to the rest of the soldiers in the vehicle before he checked the new radio frequency list. He wanted to dial in on the open net and monitor it for a while, just to get a sense of the unit’s rhythm. As the soldier behind the wheel took his foot off the brake and set the heavy armored vehicle into motion, Hastings heard the train engine blat out one short blast. He leaned forward in his seat so he could look back and watch the train pull away, rolling down the track to the west.

He thought of everyone he knew on that train: Kenny and Diana; Ballantine, Kay, and their boys; Tharinger and Reader, the two buddies who were on their way back home; Hartman and Guerra; and even Stilley, who had miraculously managed to survive. He hoped they all made it to Colorado and that the 4
^th
Infantry had really managed to secure more than just a tenuous foothold at the base of the Rocky Mountains.

And he thought of Terri and Scotty and wondered when God would see fit to let him join them. He thought it would be soon, but to a man who was slowly rotting away on the inside, soon could never come quickly enough. He would have to tough it out.

There was no other way. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he would get his wish when he got to Fort Bragg—unless God was merciful and struck him dead along the way.

Always something to look forward to.

http://knightlanding.wordpress.com

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Find more of his fiction at:

http://www.amazon.com/Stephen-Knight/e/B004SVKJH6/

Scott Wolf
is a 20 year Army Special Forces and Special Mission Unit veteran who loves to take long walks in post-apocalyptic landscapes. Wolf continues to serve and support the US government in other endeavors around the globe when he isn’t teaching others how to shoot, move, and communicate during the zombie apocalypse.

10
^th
Mountain Division (Light Infantry):
A division of the United States Army based at Fort Drum, New York. Originally constituted as a unique mountain warfare unit, the division was the only unit of its size in the U.S. Army to specialize in fighting in mountainous and arctic conditions, thus earning the division the “MOUNTAIN” tab. Today, the division retains its “mountain” designation for historical purposes and is organized as a light infantry division. The entire 10
^th
Mountain Division was assigned to Task Force Manhattan.

101
^st
Airborne Division:
A division of the United States Army base at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. The 101
^st
is a U.S. Army modular light infantry division trained for air assault operations. The 2
^nd
Brigade Combat Team, 101
^st
Airborne Division was assigned to Task Force Philadelphia.

82
^nd
Airborne Division:
The 82nd Airborne Division is an active duty airborne infantry division of the United States Army, specializing in parachute assault operations into denied areas. Based at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, the 82nd Airborne Division is part of the XVIII Airborne Corps. Comprised the majority of the Army’s contribution to Task Force Washington.

Big Voice:
On military bases, loudspeakers broadcast urgent messages. When incoming rocket or mortar fire is detected by radar systems, the Big Voice automatically broadcasts a siren and instructions to take cover. The Big Voice will also warn of scheduled explosions, usually to destroy captured weapons.

Bird:
Helicopter. “Chopper” is rarely used, except in movies, where it is always used. A chopper is a kind of motorcycle, not an aircraft.

Black (on ammo, fuel, water, etc.):
Almost out.

CH-47F Chinook:
Large transport helicopter developed for the US Army’s medium lift mission. Has two large, three-bladed rotors and is powered by two Honeywell T55-714A turboshaft engines. Capable of speeds of almost 200 miles per hour, and can carry up to 55 troops or slingload 28,000 pounds of cargo.

Claymore:
The M18A1 Claymore is a directional anti-personnel mine used by the U.S. military. Its inventor, Norman MacLeod, named the mine after a large Scottish medieval sword. Unlike a conventional land mine, the Claymore is command-detonated and directional, meaning it is fired by remote-control and shoots a pattern of metal balls into the kill zone like a shotgun. The Claymore fires steel balls, out to about 100 meters (110 yards) within a 60° arc in front of the device. It is used primarily in ambushes and as an anti-infiltration device against enemy infantry. It is also used against unarmored vehicles.

COP:
Combat Outpost. A small base, usually housing between 40 and 150 soldiers, often in a particularly hostile area. Life at a COP is often austere and demanding, with every soldier responsible for both guard duty and patrolling.

DFAC:
(pronounced dee-fack) Dining Facility, aka Chow Hall. Where soldiers eat. At larger bases the meals are served by contracted employees, often from Bangladesh or India. These employees are called TCNs, or Third-Country Nationals.

Dustoff:
Medical evacuation by helicopter. For example, “dustoff inbound” means that a medevac helicopter is on the way.

Fitty:
The M2 .50 caliber machine gun.

FOB:
Forward Operating Base. Bigger than a COP, smaller than a superbase. A FOB can be austere and dangerous but is more commonly provisioned with hot, varied meals, hot water for showers and laundry, as well as recreational facilities.

Fobbit:
Combination of FOB and Hobbit. Derogatory term for soldiers who do not patrol outside the FOB.

Geardo:
(rhymes with weirdo) A soldier who spends an inordinate amount of their personal money to buy fancy military gear, such as weapon lights, GPS watches, custom rucksacks, etc. Generally refers to a soldier with little tactical need for such equipment. See: Fobbit.

Groundhog Day:
From the Bill Murray movie, the phrase is used to describe deployments where every day proceeds the same way, no matter how the individual tries to change it.