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Chapter 26 Interstate 95 South, 8 miles south of Springfield. Ben kept a weather eye out, scanning the route ahead of them with the binoculars as the small caravan of 3 4x4s navigated through the maze of stalled cars on the interstate. It appeared when the infection was at its worse, people attempted to flee the major population areas and head for the rural sprawls of open land. This was the part of the plan Ben and Frank knew would be most tedious, as well as the most dangerous. Scouting the route down to the docks leading to Tangier Island, ensuring the convoy of refugees could make it safely to the evacuation point. It had become apparent very early in their scouting mission that using the southbound lanes of Highway would be impossible to travel on. All 4 lanes were bumper to bumper and even the side pull-off lanes were congested with fleeing vehicles. The North-bound lanes on the other hand were sparsely populated, which oddly made sense. Who in their right mind would want to go INTO a large infected metropolitan area? The fact that they had seen several abandoned military checkpoints reinforced the crazy paranoia that Louis had been raving on about for weeks now. That the Military had tried to keep people contained in cities, which only increased the rate of infection. At each military checkpoint they would stop briefly and see if there was anything worth salvaging. They’d managed to collect two rifles; one or two ammo cans full of bullets, and the jackpot of 2 boxes of the Military MREs. One of the guys in the caravan said those things tasted like death himself, but would last for more than ten years. It was funny to take such pleasure in finding two boxes of food. It meant they didn’t need to ration like they had initially planned. They might be able to have 3 meals a day now for the 4 days they planned to be away from the shelter. Ben shook his head slightly, forcing his mind and attention to go back to the highway in front of them, not planning out meals. It was still early in the day, just past 10AM and as the summer sun rose higher, the temperatures threatened to provide yet another blistering day. Thus far they had only seen a small handful of undead creatures. Far fewer then they had anticipated. The cars behind them relayed via the 2-way radios that some of the cars on the southbound lanes out of the city still had creatures inside, but they appeared to be seat-belted in place and not smart enough to release the buckles. Ben started to weigh the merits of which was worse. Waiting to die in a shelter with no idea when you might be overrun, or being left to die in a car, and then spending your entire afterlife baking in a car. He stopped himself mid thought and brought his attention back to the road. They were traveling at a safe 45 miles per hour. Slow enough to maneuver around the occasional obstacles they came upon, such as cars that were stalled and abandoned ahead or the tell-tale signs of where a panicked public tried to overrun a military checkpoint. Only twice thus far had they had to stop completely and push a large obstacle out of their path. A large greyhound bus had been knocked on its side after colliding with the Jersey wall that separated the two lane of traffic. The bus must have been moving swiftly, as there were marks in the pavement showing it had slid about 60 feet before coming to an abrupt halt. The combined strength of their men and the pushing strength of the vehicles were able to create a path wide enough to continue, but they would need to deal with this later on to allow more passage room space if the larger vehicles ferrying people from the shelter would be able to navigate the narrow passage. At the rate they were going, they would still be on Interstate 95 south for another two hours until they hit the town of Spotsylvania. From there they would need to take route 17 the rest of the way to a tiny town called Reedville, where there was a ferry that could take them the rest of the way to Tangier. It was possible that they might be able to make it to the ferries in one day. If the lack of road obstacles stayed like it was now, it would be a sure bet. However, once they took the smaller route 17. . .it was anybody’s guess. The area was rural enough that there shouldn’t be as much traffic as you might suspect in the larger sprawl of the DC metro area. The map showed only a half dozen towns of notable size along this route, so it was theorized at the shelter that once the group took the off ramp, that the remainder of their route should be smooth. Of course, nothing had gone as smoothly as people had hoped for a while now. It was decided that should the routes be deemed impassible, if too many obstacles were in the way or the volume of cars were too great that the group would try to find a new series of roads while they were out. If that proved too dangerous or impossible, they would scrap this route, and look at ferries in another area. Reedville was the closest ferry dock to Tangier Island, and the one in the most rural areas they knew of. Ben scanned the road ahead. At least to the next hill they had to crest, they were absolutely clear. There were two cars ahead of them on the road, but both were off to the side, and their doors looked to be closed and abandoned. He placed the field glasses on his lap and looked over to the driver, a young man he had only first met a few days ago, named Kyle Walsh. Kyle had spent a few years in Iraq recently, and was stuck here on leave when everything started to go to hell. Behind him in the rear seats were Ian James, one of the previous residents of Clifton who had made it to the shelter at the very beginning of the crisis, and an older gentleman named Carl. . .something. Both had some experience around firearms and were eager to help out in whatever capacity they could. The other two cars had Matthew who had become an unofficial sidekick to Ben, Durgen who everybody agreed while he might be a bit “off”, was too invaluable to be left behind. Whereas the others had all eagerly volunteered, Durgen had given Frank a rather apathetic “sure, why not” answer when approached. Nevertheless, Ben was glad to have him along. The others Ben only had a passing familiarity with. One of the men in Durgen’s car had a good deal of boating experience, more than Ben himself had and was going to be necessary once they got to the docks to make sure he could operate the Ferry and give the boat a brief inspection to make sure they could make the passage to the island. “So, you given any thought to what you might pick up when we get to the island?” Ben asked his traveling companion. Ben noticed a rather confused look on the driver’s face and decided he should rephrase the question. “What you’ll do on the island, take up fishing, carpentry, security. . .what career path you’ll want? “ The question seemed to take the man back a bit, as if it were something he hadn’t given any real thought towards. 'What will you do' was now the favorite subject of conversation in the shelter since the initial announcement had been made. People were already planning out their future paths and trying to figure out what they would do once the constant threat of attack wasn’t always foremost on their minds. “Don’t know. Guess being in the army, I should try to be part of the island security.” Ben just rolled his eyes. From the back seat, Ian piped up. “Aw, c’mon man. Being an army of one was what you used to do. This is going to be a whole new world. It’s not about what you should be.” Ian emphasized the word “should”. "It’s all about what you want to be." The other two men in the pickup truck nodded their heads in agreement. “Me” Ian went on. “I want to get my hands in that rich island soil. Start to grow some vegetables, maybe some carrots, celery, potatoes. . you know, just relax and farm all day. My grandparents were farmers and I always wanted to retire out to the old family homestead and take it over.” Oddly, whereas a month ago Ben would have found that rather dull, these days having a boring day was something people only dreamed of. “Well, that’s the input from Mister Greenjeans back there.” A small chuckle came from the back seat as Ben cracked the joke. “How about you Carl?” The chuckling died down as the other back seat occupant thought for a moment, rubbing his chin as he looked out the window. “Honestly. . .I’d like to get out on the bay and spend my days just fishing. I used to attend competitions and loved the quiet and calm that fishing provided. . .but” Carl was quickly cut off by Ian. “But nothing. . .Fishing sounds like a perfect job to me!” Ben nodded his head, remembering his recent fishing and sailing expedition, what he had been doing before the world had gone to hell. “Actually, I think my previous job is going to be needed.” Ben squinted his eyes a bit, pondering what Carl had just said. He turned in his seat to look back at Carl, asking the obvious follow-up question. “What was your previous job?” “I used to work for a company that sold solar panels and tried to get people to convert from regular city power to solar paneling.” There was a sudden hush throughout the truck as the small group seemed to be mulling over what Carl had just said. “I ran a small installation crew who would hook them up after the sales guys made their pitch and signed people up. “ The gears in Ben’s brain kicked into overdrive. “Did your company keep a warehouse, a stock of materials, or would they simply order whatever people needed when they made a sale?” Carl seemed to know where the line of questioning was heading. He gave a slight nod, indicating he understood. “We have a small warehouse, nothing like a superstore warehouse, but it is modest enough. After the meeting last week when you and Frank told everybody the plan to move to the island, I spoke with Frank about what I used to do. He said we’d look into clearing out the warehouse and using the panels.” Ben had to think for a moment to make sense of what he heard. It was obvious to him, that Frank hadn’t mentioned anything as he didn’t want to build up hopes in the event they couldn’t get the materials. Relocating their people and all of their materials to the island with no losses was a long shot at best. Giving people the promise of hot showers, running refrigerators and air conditioning and then having that all fall apart should they not be able to deliver was just cruel. “I see your point Carl.” Ben said turning back in his seat to continue scanning the road ahead. “Having power back would be extremely important.” Ben mulled over everything he just heard. “All the same though, let’s keep this under our hats for now. We don’t need to build up the promise of electricity to people and then not be able to deliver. “ “Yeah.” Carl responded. “That’s almost exactly what Frank said after I told him.” The men went back to their assigned tasks. Kyle kept his attention to the road and avoided what few obstacles there were ahead. Ben was the lookout and would feed what he saw ahead of them to the driver, giving him enough time to avoid whatever might get in their way. Ian was in communication with the vehicles behind them using a small set of FRS radios the school had, providing them with any updates which were worth reporting. Carl was assigned to keep an eye on the road atlas and supply them with information on any towns up ahead, and to plot out alternative routes should the road be blocked or otherwise impassable. Once they reached the route 17 turn off, the position of the vehicles would change. The SUV in the far read would take over as the lead vehicle and the occupants would assume the responsibility Ben and his team currently had. It was just after noon when the convoy reached the outskirts of Fredericksburg Virginia. Ben had told Ian to inform the rest of the teams they would be stopping at the top of the hill, just as the town was coming into view. As Kyle stopped the truck, the other vehicles stopped behind them and people started to step out to stretch the legs and take the opportunity to use the restroom. Ben walked ahead a brief distance and held the binoculars up to his eyes, looking the town over. It appeared that the north end had caught fire at some point during the crisis. A good number of buildings were showing obvious signs of being badly burnt. Smaller buildings in the area were reduced to their foundations and were blackened. Cars were also not spared. Whatever had been the cause, it looked as if it had spread quickly and had overrun everything to the highway bridge, which thankfully was raised high enough above the town to be spared. The west side wasn’t visible due to a large hill which blocked his view. Ben didn’t think it would have suffered too greatly from the fires with the hill acting as a natural barrier. With the exception of a few cars which looked as if they had caught fire, the east side looked largely undamaged. He could however make out several large groups of slowly moving masses of people. “How does it look?” Matt asked from behind him, stretching his arms as he took up a position alongside Ben, who had shifted his view onto the bridge overpass, catching sight of two military checkpoints side by side. One north bound and the other directly ahead of them going south. While the military humvees were still present, there was nothing to indicate the soldiers assigned to man them were still alive. Jersey walls were erected on the shoulders and on 2 of the four lanes to prevent anybody from rolling around the checkpoint. The humvees were parked in between the Jersey walls and could be moved in the event approved cars or military vehicles needed to get by. “About the same as every other city.” Ben responded. Handing the binoculars over to Matt. Ben looked back behind him to see four of the men in the convey standing guard alongside the vehicles. Two on either side, exactly as he had instructed them back at the shelter. The others were back behind the vehicles, taking care of nature’s business. Ben didn’t want to stay at this location for too long. They knew the route behind them was safe enough for the time being, but the new laws of survival stated the closer you are to any point of major population, the more likely a random encounter with an undead group. Matt handed the field glasses back to Ben, looking around their position to make sure they were still alone. He looked back at the road ahead and then over to Ben. “We should stop and scavenge those humvees for anything useful.” Ben nodded in agreement and then went back to talk with the others. A plan was put together for down on the bridge and to bypass the check point. The convoy would roll up to the checkpoint and stop 50 yards away. The second SUV would come up just behind the first and assist the first four men. The third and last SUV would sit at the edge of the bridge and keep watch, ensuring that a mass of undead didn’t swarm while the others were working on the checkpoint. The last thing anybody wanted would be to have the humvees unable to be moved, and the undead to approach from behind them. It would effectively trap them on the overpass and result in their death. The 2 groups of men at the checkpoint would first ensure no undead were inside or nearby, and then would move the humvees. If the military transports were still able to be driven, two men from the second car would each take one and take up rear positions in the convoy. They had brought an extra FRS radio with them in the event that one of theirs was damaged or went on the fritz. The Humvee in the rear would have to rely on hand signals from the man with the extra radio to get updates. Once the humvees were moved and the path ahead was clear, the lead vehicle would pull ahead to the other end of the bridge and keep watch just as the rear vehicle was to do on the back end of the overpass. This would leave the middle group to scavenge all contents from the humvees in the event they were no longer drivable. Priority was to get any jerry cans of gas or water, weapons or extra rounds. Anything else was to be left unless they had time to dedicate towards scavenging. Ben ran his plan past everybody once again to make sure each man knew their roll. He knew he was being a bit anal, and that each man was more than capable of following the directions. After the last outing from the shelter in which he had lost 2 men, he didn’t want any possibility of another incident occurring. Each man indicated he understood his assignment and the group returned to their vehicles. Ben took one last look from afar to check the situation. A few of the undead were walking through the mass of stalled cars on the North bound lanes. Slowly swaying but not yet aware of the presence of the caravan. 2 or 3 undead could be dealt with, however once their wailing started and gunshots were heard, it wouldn’t be long before it attracted the undead from the town below. Ben had Ian signaled the cars behind them and the vehicles lurched forward. As they drove onto the overpass, Ben looked in the rearview mirror to see the rear SUV stopping and the occupants getting out, again taking up position on either side and keeping watch. So far so good, he thought to himself as they quickly came upon the military check point. The truck slowed and then stopped as the men piled out and slowly approached, looking for any movement. The undead on the other side of the divider wall began moaning as they saw the mobile meal. “Watch them” Ben said to Ian, who was already raising his deer rifle to sight in the targets. “As soon as they make it over the wall, shoot them.” Ben and the others continued their approach on the shoulders and towards the Humvees. Ben and Kyle took the left while Durgen and Matthew were on the right. The other men took various positions behind them. As they neared the checkpoint, more wailing could be heard from the other side of the blockade. Ben looked inside the Humvee closest to him, it’s doors still open and was confident there wasn’t anybody inside. He looked to Durgen who was peeking in the widows of the humvee on his side, and signed it was clear. The men looked over the hoods to the other side of the bridge and saw the 3 of the former checkpoint keepers. Two were moving slowly back to their former posts, their camouflage BDUs stained with blood. The third was dragging himself on the ground by the arms, his legs having been torn off and missing. Durgen and Kyle took aim and dispatched each one of the three in rapid succession. As if a light switch had been flipped, from beneath the bridge came the deafening roar of thousands of undead moaning at once, and in response to the gunfire. The sudden noise made each of the men look at one another wide-eyed as they had just awakened hell beneath them. Ben was the first to shake off the shock, motioning to the men around them to check out the humvees. The two men assigned got into each of their assigned vehicles and tried the ignition. The Humvee on Durgen’s side roared to life, a brief puff of black exhaust indicating the success. The man near Ben climbed back out, mouthing words but unable to be heard over the commotion below. Ben shook his head and the man began to shake his head in return, making the motion for turning the key and then shrugging. Ben nodded that he understood and motioned for the other man in the Humvee to back out of the way. The remaining men all gathered at the 2nd Humvee and began to slowly push it ahead of them and along the shoulder. It was slow work, but as soon as they found momentum the vehicle moved easily and rolled to a stop along the side. Ben pointed at the three remaining men from the second car and pointed at the stalled humvee, indicated they should begin their scavenging. He looked back to the men at the entrance to the bridge who were pointing down the hill. They were being approached upon by undead from below the bridge. Ben nodded and gathered his group to take up position on the far end of the span. They drove down to the end of the bridge and once again scrambled outside as they reached their mark, assessing the situation. The undead had begun their advance on this end of the bridge as well, although here the slope up was more pronounced, and the creatures seemed to be having problems gaining a foothold. The closest undead to them would advance about ten feet, before it lost its footing and fell back down, rolling into its comrades behind and causing them to lose traction as well. From behind them Ben saw the Humvee and second SUV approaching, with the third convoy vehicle not far behind. From the other end of the bridge, Ben could see the undead had made it to the top of the hill and were now advancing on their position, albeit it slowly. Ben had the men in his team get back into their SUVs and continue on. Ahead there were a small number of undead who had obviously heard the commotion and wanted to join the excitement on the bridge. Ben looked over to see Walsh was ready, and was maneuvering around them Ben asked Ian to check in with the other groups to make sure everybody was alright. Each of the SUVs, including their newest accusation reported that everybody was fine and accounted for. Ben heard as Matt asked over the radio what, if anything had been gathered inside of the 2 Humvees? There was a brief pause as the man who had been unable to get his own humvee started responded to the question. “We have about 4 rifles, a few army cans full of rounds, 2 more cases of those military meals and some body armor.” Ben nodded at hearing their required stop to move the blockade had netted some positive returns. Body armor was more or less useless to them as the undead didn’t really shoot back when fired upon. The meals would come in handy back at the shelter, although they wouldn’t go very far. Rifles and ammunition were always useful. Ben would ask Erin Hasser to look them over when they returned, and if they were still in good working order, would hand them out to be used. The radio clicked back on once again. “There are also about 10 large cases in the rear, but I couldn’t get into them while we’re moving, the latches are up against the back of the humvee.” “Mystery prize!” Somebody from the 3rd SUV responded. Ben thought it sounded like Durgen, but thought twice as Durgen was known more for his reserve then he was for his humor. “We’ll check it once we stop for the night.” Ben said, wanting to keep the chit chat to a minimum. Carl informed him they were about 8 miles away from their pull off point of route 17. Ben clicked the radio to talk once again. “We’re about 15 minutes from route 17. Matt, your vehicle will take point as we pull off, and we’ll fall back to the rear. Everybody keep eyes open.” Ben knew he was still being paranoid. That he was not allowing himself to take any pleasure in their haul. He thought momentarily to the two men who had died during the supermarket run. Never again, he said silently. |
good job keep it up
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Sorry about the long delay in posting the most recent chapter. Work has been kicking my ass something fierce and the little woman and I are gearing up to relocate our happy home, so the time to sit down and write has been hard to find of late. Bare with me in the coming months, I pledged NOT to just drop the story mid-way through and I'm keeping that promise, but the addition of new chapters may slow to one a month as opposed to the two every two weeks I was doing for a while. Also, just for shameless plugs. . .if you are unfamiliar with "Lights Out" by our own Halffast, then you are missing out on what is (IMHO) *THE* book for survival and preparedness enthusiast. |
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Where are chapters 1-26 ? I'd like to read this, where can I find all the chapters? Anyone have this in a PDF file? Thanks |
"If you buy a $1200 knife that you wait 5-6 months to have built then you are getting quality. I WILL NOT trust my life to a $65 knife. I'm sorry I'm just not that way. I have a $250 knife that I am only mildly comfortable with." Killswitch1982:
No problem! Chapters 1-13: http://ar15.com/forums/topic.html?b=10&f=20&t=605564 Chapters 14-19 :http://ar15.com/forums/topic.html?b=10&f=20&t=606066 (page 1) Chapters 20-25: Same as link above, but on page 2. |
| I believe he is insinuating that the Maj. picks up on the impression that the Full Bird wants the power too much. In this nightmare scenario the Military would be scrambeling to find any elected official. At least the the officers I've worked with would be.he |
fixed it for you |
'Those who would sacrifice freedom for security deserve neither' -- Benjamin Franklin
When the people fear their government, there is tyranny; when the government fears the people, there is liberty. -- Thomas Jefferson
When the people fear their government, there is tyranny; when the government fears the people, there is liberty. -- Thomas Jefferson
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Chapter 27 Marine Corps Base, Quantico Graham looked over the inventory list that had been prepared after the recent raids on 2 shelters, 3 local armories and the mission to Ft. Brag. As his eyes moved down the list he grew more and more impressed with the performance of the Marines under his command. Handguns, long arms, several crates full of ammunition and assorted ordinance, batteries and almost a full PX warehouse. It had been an impressive haul with a loss of only 8 men. The major coup had been locating 8 tanker trailers full of diesel fuel which was being stored inside of the base, along with 2 more located on the highway that were airlifted back to Quantico for use. The base had it standard supply of 6 months of fuel to allow them to operate priority equipment in the event of a crisis. They had several generators which kept important systems in the infirmary and command and control operational, along with refrigeration in the chow hall for meats and other food which could spoil. Having the fuel tankers brought back onto the base meant they could continue to operate for close to a full year if they didn’t go overboard on the use of electricity. He wasn’t worried about his Marines and their ability to go without. It was the damn civilians who had to have every creature comfort they could think of. His senior staff was gathered with him in a conference room as they presented their commanding officer with the items manifest and their projected rate of usage on various items stored at the base. Graham looked at the number of rounds assigned to each division that had been sent out, along with the groups who were acting as perimeter patrol. It had been obvious in the early days of the infection that the present cyclone fencing would only detur a moderate size group of reanimates. Any number larger than 40 or 50 and they could manage to topple a section of the fence and gain entry onto the compound. After getting the local situation under control, Graham had ordered a separate group to patrol outside the fence parameter to stop the reanimates from approaching base perimeter, and while he had some initial success, it seemed as if all of the gains had been short-lived and the reports of encounters with the creatures were increasing. The patrols had been forced to withdrawal back to the base perimeter and hold the line there. It was news that Graham didn’t want to hear, and wasn’t willing to entertain. “The bottom line is that expanding our area of control forces us to increase consumption of ammunition and supplies to the patrols outside of the base proper.” It was a 2nd Lieutenant speaking that Graham didn’t recognize. He was told that this was an officer in the Marine supply office and had been assigned to monitor the use of all consumables. “Withdrawing to the established perimeter of the base will help to minimize the outbound flow of supplies, but my recommendation is that we withdraw even further into the base and reduce the area of patrols to help offset the use of. . .” The 2nd Louie stopped as he saw the look on Grahams face turn to unquestionable anger. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Withdraw, give up land, reduce space. . .all of these were nothing more than another way of saying failure. Failure was a word that any real Marine would never dare utter, in his father’s day, officer or not this man would have been shot where he sat. Graham toyed with the idea for a moment, but his rage was building to where he had to do something, and now! Pounding his hands onto the desktop, he screamed “NO!” Officers who had been reviewing the inventory lists while listening to the lieutenant speak jumped slightly at the sudden outburst. “I AM NOT GOING TO GIVE THOSE DEAD SHITS ANY PIECE OF THIS BASE WHILE THERE IS STILL BREATH IN MY LUNGS.” It was quite obvious that he had the full attention of all the officers in the room. He directed his gaze and anger now at the supply officer who had made the ridiculous recommendation. “Now you listen to me Lieutenant, and you listen well as this will be the only time I say this. I don’t care if you have to start reloading rounds. I don’t care if you have to climb into a wood paneled county squire and have to drive to every backwoods Wal-Mart and grab ammunition off the shelves, you are going to put usable ammunition into the weapons of my Marines, and you’re going to damn well find a way to make that happen. Are we clear?” He doubted that his message hadn’t been received, but he wanted to hear it from the mouths of his own subordinate himself. “We’re clear sir.” The young man answered, any frustration he might have had well hidden. “Fan-fucking-tastic! I’ll have the forward teams pull pack to the established perimeter but that is where they will hold the line.” The colonel put down the inventory sheets and looked at the paper which had held the scheduled of talking points to discuss. Disposition of civilian refugees. Graham had given this some thought last night after the incident where several of the refugees had been shot after the attack on his men. He looked over to his left where the incident report had been complied for his review earlier this morning. After the area had been secured, the man who had fired the weapon and 7 others who had attempted to physical attack the marines with improvised melee weapons had been detained and were presently in the brig. A search of the civilian area had found no additional hidden firearms, and only minor contraband that didn’t present any measurable danger to his men. “I want a group formed and to go through the FBI compound. Have any weapons or anything potentially use as a firearm removed and have the civilians moved into the compound. Post guards at all the entrances and restrict their movement to within that portion of the base.” The FBI headcount had been 214 at last check. The reports he read said their dormitories could house almost 400 if people were doubled in the rooms. Another 500 could be housed in various classrooms, offices, gymnasiums and chow halls if it came down to that. It was more than enough space to keep the civilians dry and they had showers and restrooms to keep them clean and disease free. The officers at the table made themselves busy writing down the orders and getting the preparations ready to carry out orders. He wasn’t going to have the refugees wondering the base where they had the potential to cause some major issues for Graham. Having them restricted to the federal compound would keep them out of his hair and out of the way until they were needed, which led Graham to his next line of thinking. “I also want to have the civilians identified and catalogued. If they’re going to be guests here I want them earning their keep and helping out in some way. Have base personnel begin interviewing them and assign them with routine base assignments. Janitorial, new building construction, grounds upkeep” Graham waved one hand in the air,. . ."that sort of thing.” He didn’t want them in any of the restricted areas, but he also didn’t want to have the valuable manpower of his Marines to be wasted on daily tasks that were typically performed by the base civilian workers. “If they want to get 3 hots and a cot, they’re going to earn it. I’m not running a soup kitchen here.” Pruitt was of course the first to chime with his objections. “Sir, a good number of the civilians have been wounded or are suffering from post traumatic shock over the recent events.” Graham wondered if he was simply getting used to the constant humanitarian outbursts that Pruitt was prone to. He didn’t feel himself getting any angrier, or his blood pressure rising over the newest issue which Pruitt wanted to champion. “I’d like to get the base doctors to clear everybody first for physical work.” The colonel had to admit that this one time, Pruitt had made a good suggestion. He didn’t want to have any of the civilian workers half-assing their job performance and wanted to make sure they couldn’t use any infirmity as an excuse. Those who couldn’t work or were injured. . .he’d just have to deal with later, thou the decision would be easy enough to make and sure serve as an example to any goldbrickers there might be. “Fine” The colonel said, nodding his head as he shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Have Doc and his people begin clearing everybody who can work and get them assigned to routine case tasks.” Graham thought for a moment, contemplating his previous ideas about having the women on base begin having children so they could sustain their numbers not just for today, but in the future as well. “I also want to have all the civilians catalogued. By name, race, age, gender and what jobs they feel they’re suited for.” Again, the officers begin writing down notes as Graham went down the agenda list to the last few topics of conversation. Each matter was discussed and all of the officers offered up their opinions on how best to address the issues. Water reserves were getting low, and while the pumping station nearby that supplied and filtered water from the Potomac river was still operational, it was decided that several groups of the civilians would be assigned to begin constructing rain catches to funnel clear rainwater into reserve tanks in the event the pumps should cease to function. With the list of official agenda items dealt with, graham decided that now would be the time to let the others in on his new plans. “I have a final issue I want to put into action.” Graham looked around the table to see all eyes were focused on him. “We have Marines securing needed items from the local armories and from fallen military installations. There are two other locations that we shortly need to focus on. Two civilian shelters that are still in operation and have an ample number of survivors. “ Graham stood up and walked over to a local area map that had been placed up on the wall at his request. Taking a red pen out of his pocket, he circles two areas on the large map. “The first is a CS just north of Luray Virginia. Initial intelligence shows they have a civilian compliment of 700 or so people with moderate firearms and are well provisioned. The mountainous terrain in the region and lack of any sizeable population nearby has given them a huge advantage and they seem to have their act together. The second location is smaller, only 200 or so people with better armaments and some military staff on hand. They’re secured in a school building in Clifton Virginia. While they’re closer to the DC area and do have population centers all around them, they’re isolated at the bottom of a large ravine and have minimal encounters with the reanimated.” Graham placed numbers by each location, denoting all the information he had just relayed. By the Luray Virginia site he placed a number one, and by the Clifton location he place a number 2. Major Pruitt was the first to speak up. “Sir, how is our intel so good on these locations?” Graham placed the red pen back into his pocket and turned to face the conference table. “Our intel is rock solid as I’ve assigned Marines to infiltrate each location in anticipation of gathering them up and bringing them and their stockpiles back to Quantico, by whatever means necessary. “ The officers seated at the table looked at one another nervously. “Sir, wouldn’t it be more to our advantage to work with these civilians, have Marine’s assist them in fortifying the locations and acting as forward observation points?” Pruitt was becoming agitated again, and Graham saw no further need to explain himself to this wet behind the ear subordinate. As if the question had never been asked of him, he continued on with his own train of thought. “I want battle plans put together in 48 hours and want teams selected for rapid advance and securing of these two locations. Luray first within four days and Clifton second, 1 week thereafter. “Sir!” Pruitt tried to get his point heard again. “Dismissed.” The officers all stood and started out of the room. Graham walked over to his chair and to collect the papers and files that he had brought with him to the meeting. As the remaining officers were almost out of the room, he looked up to see Major Pruitt. “Major, a moment.” Pruitt looked as if his being asked to stay behind w as a serious imposition. The last of the remaining officers files out as the Major stood at the edge of the meeting room table. “Major, given the growing tensions between the civilian population and the base Marines, I want to ensure that any future misunderstandings are dealt with in a manner that will set an example to any continuing discord.” Pruitt had something of a confused look on his face, that almost showed he understood the seriousness of the situation. Graham on the other hand didn’t want to risk the possibility that Pruitt could question exactly what his orders would be. “Sir?” Pruitt asked, obviously showing a lack of comprehension. Graham closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check. He decided he would simply have to address Pruitt as a child if he was going to display naiveté. “I want you to make it known to the civilian leaders, that any future insurrection on the base will result in the agitators being rounded up, along with their families and all will face summary execution.” |
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Chapter 28 Clifton Shelter Lindsey concentrated on getting her paperwork filed, and to keep her attention focused on the task at hand. She knew it may prove to be absolute folly if they had to abandon the shelter suddenly. From recent experience she knew that when the call to evacuate was given, there would be little time to gather and properly transport boxes of paper. Nevertheless she wanted to have everything in order as it helped her to maintain a sense of normalcy. Something that was so sought for these days. As she would complete entries and move onto the next patient’s name, she found her thoughts wandering to Ben and his mission to head down to the Chesapeake Bay and check out the docks. She tried to convince herself that the bulk of the concern was no different than it would have been for any other person in the shelter and due to the future of the shelter and all of the occupants. She recalled the first time she had met Ben at the supermarket almost a month ago and how he had helped them make their escape. Had it been a month already? She hadn’t realized how quickly time had been passing and just how much she had engrained herself inside of the shelter now. She thought about the last conversation that they had where he had accidently walked in on her washing and had gotten more of a view then he had bargained for. She deliberated on her reaction to being walked in on and if her reaction, or lack thereof had truly been due to exhaustion and not having the energy to scream at him for the indiscretion, or if she had subliminally left the door open in hopes that he might stop by. “Ridiculous!” she muttered under her breath as she focused once again on the patient’s charts in front of her and put her mind back on what was in front of her. She had several pages of notes to transcribe from her little pocket notebook into the files they kept on all of the refugees. As she saw her patients daily, or made the rounds to where they were staying, she would update notes and orders on her small notebook. Normally it would have been into a tape recorder and then she would have had her interns make the needed updates to the files, but she didn’t have a tape recorder any longer, or interns, or proper patient files. It was making the best of a bad situation. The doctor was able to breeze through the first four pages with little distraction. She flipped the lined paper over and went onto the next page. Looking at her hand writing she saw the next notation and the next patient file to update. Maxwell, Ben. Her eyes went down to see what she had written and what needed to be reviewed. “Severely bruised ribs due to fall. Bandaged and patient ordered to minimize any physical activity for 3 weeks.” This had happened last week after his first excursion out when the 3 people under him had been killed and Ben had gone into shock. She re-read the notation. “Minimize any physical activity for 3 weeks.” She just shook her head. That obviously wasn’t happening with him gallivanting down south with his team to inspect the route through the undead. Lindsey sat back in her chair and looked over the notes on Ben. What the hell was he thinking in the first place? There were 2 dozen other men who could have been recruited to do the job he was doing. Younger men and uninjured people who were more than capable of getting the job seen to. Ben was injured and his ribs wouldn’t heal any faster with him pushing cars out of the way, lifting heavy objects and running around shooting at the undead. Had she had a proper staff, and had gotten more sleep she would have recalled this prior to him leaving and would have insisted that he give himself the proper time to heal. Now he was only going to aggravate the bruising and might well end up cracking one of those ribs. Once he got back, Lindsey decided she was going to have to sit him down and give him a lecture on not overdoing it. Crisis or not, he was still human and wasn’t going to be any good to anybody if he was laid up in bed due to a cracked rib, or heaven forbid up in breaking a rib managed to puncture a lung. Then he would be in a world of hurt, and. . . . Lindsey instantly realized what she was doing. She was trying to make up excuses for keeping him safe and to keep him at the shelter, rather than allowing him to do what had to be done. It was exactly what she had done with Michael when they had been dating. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes trying to relax. She reminding herself that he was simply another patient and not to allow herself to get swept up in a torrent of emotions. She was a doctor and he was her patient. It’s simply not acceptable for a doctor to have a relationship with a patient under their care. She open her eyes again and started to transfer the notes from her notepad to Ben’s proper file. Fatigue, mild shock, fever at 101 degrees. Medical team inspected patient for any signs of broken skin due to scratches, bites or abrasions. Patient to be kept in constant observation for any sign of infection and transformation to undead. She started to recall her exam and how she had Ben brought into one of the backrooms for privacy as she had stripped him down and looked his body over for any signs of bites or other points where he may have become infected. How his deep breathing had almost been rhythmic as his bare chest rose and then fell. . . “Enough!” She said aloud. This was proving to be too distracting and she needed to get work done. Lindsey ripped out the page and put the file on the side of the desk. She would have Tandi finish the entries later as she wasn’t able to get Ben off of her mind. She briefly looked over the remaining paperwork, which wasn’t much and decided that she had earned herself a break. Standing up from the desk she closed the door to the clinic and told one of the guards at the front of the school that she would be in the cafeteria getting a bite to eat if anybody should need her. As her shoes made soft squeaks against the tiled floor, Lindsey gave herself a mental pep talk and admonished herself for not being able to concentrate. She considered her options which weren’t many given the odd situation. The simplest thing to do would be to sit Ben down when he got back, and to prove to herself that she could treat him simply as a patient and keep their relationship purely professional. She knew that seeing him soon after their return wouldn’t be an issue. It was standard operating procedure now that anybody who went out beyond the shelter was checked out as soon as they got back. That and the need to inspect his bruised ribs all but ensured that she would be able to put this insanity behind her in a few days when he returned. The doctor made her way into the cafeteria and towards the food. Ham Sandwiches were the fare for today, with a side of canned corn and what looked like either mashed carrots or pumpkin pie filling. Bottles of water were also handed out. She grabbed her food selection and placed it on a tray, walking into the eatery area which was moderately full for this time of the afternoon. From the side of the room, she saw frank stand up and wave her over. She dodged several people who were leaning back at their tables, some sleeping and others playing a game of dominos which had been found and sat down at the table with Frank. “Afternoon Doctor.” Frank said as he drank a large mug of coffee, looking over a map in front of him. Next to the map sat a bowl with what looked as if it had been some sort of stew. Had she been more focused, she could have managed to eat a good hearty stew. Sandwiches were obviously what had been prepared after the contents of the stew had been exhausted. Lindsey took off the top layer of bread to exam what prepared condiments her sandwich held. “Frank.” Lindsey picked up the sandwich and took a bite. While not previously a huge fan of lunch meat, she did have to admit that the current meal was exactly what she needed. “I was just going over the latest report from the field team and their progress.” Lindsey pretended not be interested and focused intently on her food, although closely listening to everything Frank was saying. “They made phenomenal progress their first day. Ben and I didn’t think they’d be able to make it any further then Fredericksburg before having to make camp their first night out. The group reported they were able to get almost 80% of the way down, and stopped at a small farm house outside of Reedsville near a town called. . .” Frank looked at the map and to hand scribbled notes that he had made. “. . .a town called Heathsville.” Lindsey glanced over briefly to see the map that Frank was working on. It was a road atlas that had obviously been taken from one of the cars outside in the ball fields. There was a blue “X” near the bay where she guessed the group was heading. A black “X” showed the location of the group and where they had spent the night, while behind them were various notes along the route. Lindsey didn’t look long enough to read any of them, or to know what they meant. “How are they holding up?” She finished off her sandwich and started to make a dent in the corn that sat off to the side of her tray. “All things considered not too bad.” Frank seemed generally relieved “The route down was largely clear. The routes North were kept clear of traffic after the initial outbreak had struck. Once they got past Fredericksburg, the routes weren’t as busy as the interstates so travel was fairly smooth. They located a house to bunk down in that was fairly off the beaten path and wasn’t visible from the road. The only reason they found it at all was during a bathroom break. They decided to make camp there and should be reaching the docks in the next hour or so.” Frank looked at his watch to confirm the time. One of the issues that had most concerned the group heading down was maintaining communication with the shelter while they were away. Should something happen at the shelter and it was no longer safe to return to, they would need to know where to return to. Louis, the shelter’s resident electronic and government conspiracy guru had managed to put together a custom handheld HAM radio that could give the group instant communication with the shelter. When the issue of distance was brought up, Louis had informed them that a group of online survival enthusiasts had come together to make some makeshift repeater towers in the hills and mountains along Appalachia. Louis had spoken about how it wasn’t 100% legal back before the outbreak, but how they had wanted to plan for the worst so they made custom modifications, included solar rechargers, weatherproof boxes, something called a diplexer. . .it had all been way to technical for Lindsey to follow, but it seemed to both impress and surprise Frank, so she knew it had to be good. “Glad to hear that everything is going smoothly then.” Lindsey was feigning at apathy, but inside was relieved to hear that the group. . .was relieved to hear that Ben was alright. The two chatted about what would be required to transport everything down to the ferry and how they were concerned about getting everybody and all the supplies they needed down in only one trip. It was obvious that they would only be able to take the absolute essentials, but there were items they would need to survive that weren’t readily available. This would mean making at least one more scavenging trip to the outside world to gather the items they needed. Frank told the doctor he was working on a plan with some of the others to prioritize those items that would be most important. A small group of 8 people were gather those lists and trying to locate places nearby that they could ransack to get what they needed. In the days before the crisis, all they would have needed to do was look up locations on the internet. With power down, computers dead and the internet all but a relic, they had to rely on information from the yellow pages. While they were talking, Lindsey noticed that Erin Hasser, the solider woman had come inside the cafeteria and was looking around. Her eyes locked on Lindsey and she started over. There must have been an incident with one of her guards and she had found the clinic closed. Lindsey finished up her meal quickly and was getting ready to get up as Erin stopped at her table. “Frank, I need to talk to you. “ Erin’s eyes met Lindsey’s once again and she suddenly realized that this wasn’t a medical emergency. “Actually, you both should be brought into the know about this one.” Lindsey was confused. The only people who wanted to talk with her had typically had medical concerns, were hurt or needed to know about a previous medical condition. This seemed to be none of the above. Frank looked over to the doctor who shared his confused look. “Alright corporal, have a seat.” Frank motioned to a chair next to him and pushed it out with his foot under the table. “Better to do this in your office. Louis is waiting for us there, and this isn’t something you want floating around.” Hasser looked concerned, which was a looked Lindsey had never seen the woman have in the month she had known her. Frank simply nodded his head and motioned for the doctor to join them. The three headed out of the cafeteria and went down to Frank’s office, directly across from the clinic. Inside they could see Louis pacing anxiously across the reception area. As they walked in, Louis made a beeline into the principals’ office, now Frank’s office and once everybody was inside, closed the door. “Ok, what’s happened?” Frank asked as he sat on the edge of the desk, facing the stalwart solider and nervous tinkerer who both made an unlikely pair. “We have a spy.” Louis blurted out, a bit louder than he had intended. He continued to wear out a path on the carpet as he paced back and forth. Lindsey looked over to Frank who still had the look of confusion on his face. Normally this could be chalked up to Louis’ paranoid ramblings, of which there seemed to be no end. Most people just accepted that Louis was still clinging onto old-world paranoia and conspiracy theories as his way of coping with the infection and humanity being overrun by the undead, but the fact that he had managed to convince Hasser of this was no small feat. Frank simply nodded his head and took a deep breath, placing his hands on the desk behind him, as if he were getting ready to listen to a long narrative. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Without stopping his pacing, or even acknowledging that others were in the room with him, he let loose with a tirade of explanation. After four or five seconds, Frank stopped him. “Louis. . .slow down, and help us understand. Start slowly.” Louis kept his pace constant, but did manage to slow his speaking down. “Over the last 3 weeks, I been monitoring radio frequencies from around the world, trying to make contacts wherever I can and keep us updated on how many groups are still in operation, how many people survived and are still out there . . .I mean, my numbers and information are only as accurate as to those people with radio equipment able to transmit and won’t include groups with no communications, or groups not transmitting while I might be sleeping. . .” He was already off on a tangent and showed no signs of stopping his monologue stream of consciousness. Frank placed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and rubbed them slightly. “LOUIS!” He said loudly, although not quite shouting. The noise made the collective room jump. “Erin, why don’t you start first.” Frank didn’t stop rubbing his nose as Hasser took over for the panicked and nervous man. “My group was on routine patrol about 2 miles north of the shelter, looking for any undead who might be wondering around or were closing in on our position. Standard sneak and sweep, nothing fancy.” Lindsey was thankful for a simple start to an explanation. She thought the military jargon was still a bit much, but at least she wasn’t having any problems following. “We were about half a mile from the main road when we spotted a group of 15 or so undead swaying. We didn’t want to engage as they weren’t heading towards us so we started back to our fence line. That’s when we came across an SUV that had been hidden in the forest with camo netting and shrubs.” Frank looked up instantly to meet the gaze of the military woman. Lindsey looked to see honest concern on the face of their leader. It was the first time Lindsey had recalled that look on Frank since Ben had been brought in suffering shock. “Show me on the map.” Frank said, pointing to the map of the area which had been pinned up to the wall. Hasser walked over and pointed to a set of hills about three quarters of a mile to the north. Frank looked over the location and then over to Hasser. “Tell me about the SUV.” The doctor noted that now Frank shared the same look of concern Hasser had when she first encountered them in the cafeteria. She wasn’t sure what the big deal was as there were thousands of abandoned vehicles all around them now. Yes it was a bit odd that this one was hidden, but that could have easily have been due to a paranoid homeowner prior to the infection breaking loose. “Late model civilian vehicle, four wheel drive. Registered to Lacy Chadwick of Triangle, Virginia. There were packages of freeze-dried meals inside, 3 plastic cans of gas, maps and what looked like a store purchased medical kit. The kit was opened and had been used recently. There were bloody rags all over the floor. It had also been hotwired.” Frank listened intently as the corporal went over all the information, considering each fact as it was presented to him. “I’m not sure I understand the dilemma.” Lindsey as she looked at Erin Hasser, wanting them to vocalize their line of thought. Frank began rubbing his chin as he got up and wandered over to his chair. Not acknowledging the doctor’s statement, he looked over to Louis, who continued his frenzied pacing. “Louis, how did you get in on this?” Louis looked over briefly to frank and then to Hasser. “I mentioned keeping in contact with local shelters. Over the last 2 weeks they’ve been steadily declining. In fact, there is only one other within 100 miles that I know of. A small group near the Luray caves. What is odd is the encrypted chatter.” Frank looked over to the corporal who was nodding. Louis, not seeing the glance exchanged, continued. “There had been increased communications that while I can see the signal being transmitted, I can hear it. . .I don’t have the equipment to unscramble it, only know that a encrypted conversation is going on. That means either Military, or somebody got their hands on mil-spec communications gear, and if they have mil-spec comms. . .they might have mil-spec weapons and other items.” Corporal Hasser chimed in “With the military caught off guard and the civilian population all in a panic, a well organized group could have easily ransacked a nearby base or armory and it would have been easy pickings.” Lindsey watch the three trading ideas back and forth, but was still in the dark as to the immediate threat, whatever that was. “Guys. . .we always knew there were hostile groups out there, they have weapons just like we do. There was a car found nearby that was covered up. . .hell, the branches could have just fallen on it from the weather.” The three stopped their conversation and looked over. Frank took a deep breath and finally let her on what they knew. “It’s a bit more serious then that Doctor. An SUV that wasn’t crashed, still had food and fuel inside would be a gold mine these days. The fact that it was hotwired tells us that it wasn’t the original owner that left it there. If it was somebody who was an honest refugee or somebody seeking shelter, why not just drive it up to the front gate? It makes no sense to get THAT far and then walk the last two miles.” Lindsey started to see the reason now why the group was beginning to worry. With the way Frank laid everything out for her, it did sound fairly sinister. “Not to mention that one of the last encrypted transmissions came from inside the shelter.” Louis said rather matter of factly. Both Frank and Erin looked over as if they hadn’t heard this last piece of information yet. Almost in unison, both responded to Louis. “What?” “Ummm. .. .hmmm. . .encrypted signal, lasting eighteen seconds and transmitted from within one hundred yards from my equipment. . .plus or minus twenty yards.” Frank looked as if somebody had just punched him in the gut. The look of shock and anger very visible on his face. “When?” he asked, struggling to contain his anger. “Two days ago.” Louis said, turning on his heal to continue his pacing back towards the window. “I didn’t have the exact distance until about an hour ago after finishing the triangulation math. Those repeaters really are proving their worth now!” Frank just shook his head, considering everything that had been mentioned. “Louis, I need to know the moment another transmission is made, and from where it’s coming. Corporal, I want you to leave the SUV alone for now, and if anybody outside of this room knows about it, tell them to keep their mouths shut. Last thing any of us needs is to have people pointing fingers at innocent people.” “After I found the Truck I ordered everybody back to their normal lookout posts. I’m the only person who knows.” “Good.” Frank said, still rubbing his chin. “We need to keep this contained for now, until we have more to go on.” Lindsey watched as Frank gave out orders with ease, as if he had been trained to act in this capacity all of his life. She wasn’t sure what Frank had done before the infection had spread out of control, but he had never ceased to prove himself as a natural leader. “How bad do you think this could be?” Lindsey asked the obvious question that nobody in the room wanted to ask. Frank nodded his head a bit and then answered. “It’s either the military or a raiding party with military experience that want the supplies we have here. Based on everything we’ve talked about, its sounds like they’re sizing us up first, before they decided what to do.” It was an odd feeling to now be worrying about warm blooded attackers rather than the ever-persistent undead that had been responsible for the end of the world. It honestly surprised Lindsey that she should be finding herself worried about anything other than an attack by the undead. “For the time being, don’t let yourselves act any different” Frank said, addressing the room. “But at the same time. . .keep your eyes open.” |
| Very nice! Love how the story is going so far! |
Our Country won't go on forever, if we stay soft as we are now. There won't
be any America because some foreign soldiery will invade us and take our
women and breed a hardier race!"
-Lt. Gen. Lewis B. "Chesty" Puller, USMC
be any America because some foreign soldiery will invade us and take our
women and breed a hardier race!"
-Lt. Gen. Lewis B. "Chesty" Puller, USMC
long haired tatoo'd hippy freak..that hates taurus
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Chapter 29 45 Miles West of Reedville, Va. “We have what?” Ben asked, the sound of both shock and surprise not able to be hidden in his question. “About forty blocks of C-4, detonator caps and I’m not sure, but I think the electronic doohickey we found is a remote detonator.” Carl responded, speaking proudly like a man who was reporting on the birth of his first born son. Ben took a deep breath and looked around to the others who were listening intently. It was just after 6AM and the men had only recently woken up. After locating the remote farmhouse and reporting back to the shelter that they were going to hold up for the night, Ben had instructed the men to not worry about taking inventory from the recovered humvee in favor of securing the house and the immediate area. Once they had made sure they were in fact alone out here, their attention had been focused on establishing a rotating watch schedule and getting something to eat. The house had been well ransacked, most likely by other survivors and the team had to resort to breaking out some of the MREs for their dinner. After they had eaten, Carl had been the one to remember they had a number of crates to look through and inventory. Nobody had been too keen to undertake the task that evening, so Carl had volunteered to perform the inventory the following morning before they got back underway. “Well damn!” Ben said at hearing the report on the explosives. “I can’t think of anything we’d really need them for now, but we might as well hold onto them.” He began to wonder why a military checkpoint would need so many explosives and why they wouldn’t have opted to go outfitted in favor of more rounds and weapons as opposed to explosives. As if answering his unspoken question, the new guy, Walsh spoke up. “Sounds to me like they were intending to blow the bridge if things got too bad.” Ben looked over and mentally slapped himself for not realizing the answer to such an obvious question. “Two of the ten cases were empty” Carl said aloud. “That might have been what was inside of them. They wired the bridge but didn’t get around to blowing it.” “Good thing too!” It was Durgen, coming in from standing guard and just catching the end of the conversation. “If they had nuked the bridge, this whole zany plot of ours would have been ended.” He walked over to a table and began to eat an MRE that looked to be eggs and bacon. Ben knew he was only partially correct, although as far as these guys knew. . .had the bridge across Fredericksburg been found to have been destroyed, or if there was some other obstacle which looked to be insurmountable, the plan was to head back to the Shelter and come up with a plan-B. In reality, Frank and Ben had decided this plan was too important to simply give up on. If an obstacle were to have been discovered, they would have to plot a new route to the ferry. The group finished their chat and began to gather what few belongings they had brought inside with them. Ben told everybody to finish their breakfast and take 10 minutes to see to “other morning routines” so they could get back underway. Carl had scribbled a quick list of the crate’s contents in the back of the humvee. Other then the explosives, they had more ammunition, a full field crate of trauma medic supplies, and various field items to keep a small size squad able to operate for at least three weeks. These were standard issue items not too different then what most backpackers and campers took out with them. Only difference being these were provided by Uncle Sam and would no doubt be more robust in construction. With the spare fuel used to top off the fuel tanks of the 4 vehicles, everybody climbed back into their assigned cars and drove back to the main road, heading towards their destination. Referencing the road atlas, Ben estimated they should be able to reach the docks holding the Ferry in a little under two hours, if there were no major concentration of undead between them. The group had only managed a few hours of sleep, but that and several thermos cups full of coffee gave the team a much needed respite. A light rain had started up and the convoy decided to slow down to 35 in order to compensate for the slick conditions. As they started up a small hill, the lead car came to a sudden halt, the other cars behind them quickly stopping as well. Ben had Walsh stop their SUV which was in the rear position and radioed ahead to Durgen in the lead car, asking what was going on. “You should come up here.” Was the only response Ben got. He threw on a cheap green rain poncho they had found in the Humvee’s gear, grabbed a rifle and jogged up to the front to stand next to the first SUV. The driver’s door was already open and Durgen and his small group were up ahead, looking down the bottom of the hill. A sign just ahead and on the right welcomed them to the Town of Reedsville, promoting itself as a “quiet little town.” On either side of the road, the bodies of the undead had been cleaned and stacked on the sides, left to rot in the warm summer sun, creating a morbid sight and stench the group was now all too familiar with. “We’re not the first group here.” Durgen said as he handed a pair of binoculars to Ben, who took them and looked down the valley into the town proper. There was a large main street which was lined with various stores and shops. At the end of the main street stood the dock for the ferry, and in what was the biggest relief for Ben, he could see the ferry boat still docked and moored to the shore posts. On either side of the shops were old Victorian style homes in various states of damage. Like most other towns they had seen on the drive down, there were cars left standing in the middle of the road, some burnt out and others completely abandoned. Ben handed the binoculars back to Durgen who placed them around his neck. “Alright, this changes nothing. . .” Ben said trying to reassure himself just as much as he wanted to ensure those standing with him. “In fact, this may make the job that much easier.” Ben turned to see the others in the caravan had left their vehicles and were coming up to join the others at the top of the hill. After they had been allowed to have a quick look themselves at what laid before them, he addressed the entire collected group. “The Ferry is at the very end of the main street and we need to look her over to make sure she is seaworthy. Once we get there, I want Matt’s team to cover our rears and make sure we aren’t swarmed on from behind. My team will get me safely to the bridge so I can check the instruments, and then to the engine room to do a quick inspection. Durgen and the Humvee will take the measuring tapes and get the dimensions from the ferry to make sure we know how many vehicles we can get on the barge at once.” Everybody nodded at the orders as they were given, agreeing on the task as they had been assigned and the work expected of them. Ben returned to his SUV and watched as the others all got back into their assigned vehicles. The lead car started down the hill and towards the town. As the vehicles entered the town and started down Main Street, they slowed their speed down even more to swerve through the various cars and obstacles left on the road. The town had not been spared despite its small size and distance from any large city sprawl. As they drove past, Ben saw a large U-haul van with its rear door open and supplies thrown into the back. The truck was parked outside of a gun store and from the number of bodies all around, it was obvious that some other group had tried to raid the area, but were unsuccessful. A severed pair of legs and torso near the loading ramp were all that was left of the scavengers. Ben considered having his group close up the back door and take this moving truck back with them to the shelter. The extra weapons and whatever else that might be inside may move useful to their continued existence. He would have to mention it after they had completed their inspection of the ferry. Driving down the main thoroughfare, other shops had not been spared. Glass fronts were broken and the items in the display widow were scattered across the sidewalk. Pools of dried blood in varying shapes and amounts stained the road and showed where people had fallen to the swarms of undead. As they proceed towards the docks the first signs for the ferry became visible in the distance. The group drove ahead and stopped just short of the parking lot, making sure they had multiple paths for escape if they had to make a hasty retreat. Ben and his group piled out of their SUV as the other groups started their assigned tasks. The first two groups jogged ahead of them, rifles at the ready as they found the ferry they were looking for. The tailgate had been left up, and after a quick inspection to locate the latch, was lowered to allow the team to board. One group of men went ahead of Ben and his team, heading for the bridge while the other veered right and went in search of the engine room. As the first group got to the bridge, the sound of gunshots became audible from back behind them. As they had been trained to do, the first group with Ben, made sure the bridge was empty, and then ran downstairs to act as sentries at the dock, making sure they didn’t manage to paint themselves into a corner. Trying not to allow himself to become distracted, Ben started to run the checklist through his head, trying all the various levels and gages to make sure the ship was still seaworthy. A click from his radio told him the second group had finished their sweep of the engine room and were heading back to join the others to provide security. Ben said a quick prayer and turned the engine on, throttling the engine which slowly roared to life. Looking over to the fuel gage, he saw the tanks were reading at 75% full. He cut the power to the engine and turned everything off. Would seventy-five percent be enough to get the job done? He thought to himself, wondering if the group had the luxury to gamble on something so important. Being an amateur sailor, he knew the more weight you had on a ship, meant the harder the engine had to work to achieve speed and maintain it. With all the people they had, and all the vehicles necessary to transport them and their supplies, it was something Ben mentally slapped himself for not taking into account earlier. The shooting outside picked up in frequency, and Ben was sure he heard a round impact on a wall behind him. Turning to confirm what he thought he heard, he saw a second round cut a hole through the metal wall, off to his left. Fearing that a group of undead had made their way onto the deck and past the guards, Ben unslung his rifle and put it in front of him, slowly opening the door and preparing to fire at the mass of stumbling corpses making their way towards him. As he peered out of the door, he saw no signs of the approaching undead, but something worse. In the morning sun he got a clear picture of his men, taking cover behind whatever solid object was nearest to them, back on the road they had just traveled sat a red SUV which was turned sideways. From the other side, peering out to fire where a small mob of rough looking individuals in Biker leathers, all with red bandana fashioned around their heads. The volley of fire being exchanged was a new sound Ben had not been accustomed to as he processed the sight. It was commonplace for a group on patrol to take various shots at any approaching undead, but to have your targets fire back was something they weren’t trained for. Ben snapped himself back into the moment as he sighted his rifle on one of the bikers and forced himself to breath normally. As soon as he had the head of the attacker in the center of his scope he squeezed the trigger. He saw the shot strike just above the head of his target, making a clean hole in the back panel of the SUV. His intended target looked up towards his direction and two of the men began firing, shots ringing out all around him. Quickly ducking about around the corner Ben crawled across the bridge to a door on the other end and slowly opened it. This time leading with his rifle at the ready, he quickly sighted in an attack on the opposite side of the SUV and opened fire, squeezing off 3 shots. One of the attackers he aimed out slumped down on the ground, but was dragged back behind the SUV by an unseen pair of hands. The exchange of gunfire slowed as the bikers seems to be having an urgent discussion behind their vehicle cover. Ben waited for return fire but nothing happened. The firing from down below from his team stopped. He thought he heard somebody yell out something, but the ringing in his ears, a combination of the rifle report and his heart thumping quickly didn’t allow him to make out the words. A few moments passed as Ben waited, trying to calm himself down and gather his wits. Those were his men down below and he’d be dammed him he lost anybody again. Being killed by the undead was bad enough, but to be killed by scavengers was pure insult. Taking a deep breath he again peered around the corner with his rifle to see the doors of the SUV closing from the far side were the Bikers had climbed in, and then heard the screeching of the tires as they seemed to be retreating. He watched through his scope as the SUV sped up the road toward the entrance of the town and then quickly swerved left, down a side access road heading south. Ben lowered the rifle and got up from his sniping point. He quickly headed down to where his men still had their cover. As he approached he saw Ian, suddenly fall to his knees and began vomiting up his breakfast. “Was he hit?” Ben yelled, pointing at Ian but also looking over all of the others as they slowly rose to join him. Ian continued to wretch as Matt looked him over and shook his head. “No, it’s the adrenalin pukes.” He said rather matter of factly. “One of the guys I graduated police academy with had them after his first on-duty shooting.” Ben, did a quick head count and was relieved to see that everybody was accounted for. “Is anybody hurt?” Ben yelled. A chorus of shaken heads reassured him that they had just been extraordinarily lucky. Looking around to ensure there were no undead shambling upon them for the moment, he asked the next logical question. “What the hell was that?” Carl, the nervous solar power salesmen was the first to speak up. “We had just finished making sure the engine room was clear were heading back to the entrance to help the sentries. We had just gotten to them when they were shooting two undead who came out of that antique store.” Carl pointed to a well damaged shop which sat on the corner of the main road and the service drive that ran along the ferry dock. “A few moments after shooting them we heard a car engine start up, and those guys came speeding towards us. The yelled something about this being their town and started to fire. That’s when I. . .” Carl seemed to perform an internal check of himself and shifted his gaze down. “. . .when I hid.” Ben took a deep breath. He knew these weren’t well trained and hardened killing machines. These were simple working stiffs like he was who were more at home behind a laptop then they were behind the trigger of a firearm. In the world in which they now lived, unless you had a sudden crash course in firearm handling, your life expectancy was low. Most everybody knew the general basics of firing and use of a rifle or a handgun. Having to dispatch a walking undead creature had become routine. At first it took some getting used to in order to be ‘fine’ with dispatching something that resembled a human. Keeping in mind that what you were putting down was already dead was the best way to come to that quick realization. Having something that would use a weapon back towards you was nothing they were prepared for. Short of Matthew and the new guy Kyle that was. Ben walked to Carl and patted him on the arm, not unlike how a half-back consoles a QB that just threw an interception. “Don’t beat yourself up Carl. We’re not soldiers. We weren’t expecting to run into any vultures and didn’t plan for something like this happening. If anything it’s my fault.” That drew a few curious looks. Ben saw the confused faces and explained. “I should have guessed that sooner or later we would be facing other pockets of survivors like our group. Most will be guarded and cautious of outsiders, like you guys were with Matt and I when we first showed up.” Matt shook his as he remembered that day. “Other groups. . .” Ben shrugged his shoulders “Others will be out for themselves and will want to take whatever they can in order to survive, even if it means from other survivors. I should have known this and insisted that we have Hasser, or Matt here, or somebody else with proper military training give us the basics on what we need to defend ourselves properly against armed attackers.” The group seemed to consider what Ben was saying. Ben just shook his head, beating himself up internally. “I should have considered that this might happened and gotten us trained. I could have gotten us all killed just now.” Everybody sat silent as the sound of the water from the docks and the trees rustling in the breeze overtook Ben’s speech. For a few moments nobody spoke, until the silence was broken by Durgen. “If the Vagina Monologues are over with, we need to be heading out of here before those guys come return with their buddies, looking for payback.” Everybody nodded their hands and started for their assigned vehicles. Ben looked over to the man who had worked on boats in his previous life and was selected to come along and inspect the Ferry. “How did the engine look?” “It’s still in good shape. All in all some of the moving parts could use some minor oiling, but I didn’t see anything that would keep us from making 1 or 2 trips out to the island before we have to perform maintenance.” Ben shook his head, adding to the report given to him. “The bridge instruments were all working and I was able to get the engine humming for a little while. We have just over three quarters of a full fuel tank.” “We’re done here.” Ben said aloud so the entire group could hear him. “Let’s start back for home, but I want rifles at the ready, in case we run into those guys again.” Everybody returned to their assigned vehicles and the truck with Durgen’s vehicle taking point. Ben didn’t like everything he had seen after arriving at Reedsville. The obvious signs of the stores being ransacked, the undead being erected in a grotesque effigy, the Ferry not being full of gas, and now the knowledge that an armed group of marauders was hold up close by. It wasn’t a complete wash, and the plan still had potential to work for them. Nonetheless, a knot had started to grow in the pit of Ben’s stomach. He needed to get back to the shelter and talk with Frank. |
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shadowbody, thanks for another great chapter. more please! also, i finally got around to ordering and reading "riegn of the dead" and "r.o.t.d. apocalpyse end", i see where your inspiration is coming from, and am starting to see i believe, how your tying your story into barharts. i dig it. funny thing is, i have had quite a few breakfasts up at skyland, and at the big meadows lodge, where barnhart's "Va. freedom fighters" are said to be based in the 2nd book. i actully live about 35-40 miles from there, towards grottoes and nestled up near the skyline drive, i think armed suspect and i may also incorporate a few mentions of them/or the r.o.t.d. universe into our story just as you have... |