Dawn of the Apocalypse: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel (5 page)

            I kept the pistol holstered on my belt full time, so only had to pick up the 30-30 and the fanny pack I was carrying the ammo in now.  Once I ensured all doors were locked, and the keys were in my pocket, we headed for the meeting.

            "Wow, you are meticulous about checking everything," Sean said as we walked down the middle of the asphalt road.

            "You mean OCD?"  I laughed.  "It's called being a mother."

            That was my excuse, and I wasn't going to surrender it.

            The developer's model home was a gorgeous four bedroom, three bath, four thousand square foot log mini-mansion near the entrance to the subdivision.  It had deep decks and a spectacular mountain view.  A few of the other so called cabins up there were just as big and beautiful.  We'd chosen the very smallest and cheapest cabin available.

            Bill Connor called the meeting to order when we arrived on the main deck.  Apparently I was the last family to show up.  Kind of embarrassing when it became obvious that they'd sent Sean up to get us.

            There were nineteen "families" in our little community.  There were more homes, but only nineteen made it up there so far.  Of those nineteen, five were single person households: three men and two women.  All divorced, and Sean was the oldest of them at forty.  I was a little surprised by the overall youth of the group.  Only three elderly couples made it to their cabins.  Most of the adults were in their thirties, making me at twenty-eight the youngest.

            The group's youth also meant lots of children.  Mostly young children.  I counted fifteen kids playing inside.  Seeing them filled me with hope, and then dread.

            "Our first order of business is organizing a defense," Bill said.  "Personally, I think the group is small enough for a pure democracy, so we can vote on all community decisions."

            "Not all of us have guns," a single woman said.  "How can I contribute to the defense?  I can't even shoot a gun."

            So Bill called for a show of hands of everyone with some sort of weapon, counting bows and crossbows.  Most families had at least a pistol, hunting rifle, or shotgun.  Then there was Sean with a mini-arsenal.  Once everyone figured out he was the only one there with military combat experience, he was put in charge of the guard force.

            Sean proved our decision correct by producing a topographical map of the area.  He'd already figured out the best places to post armed guards.  Soon we had a roster with everyone's shift.  The group was so small that everyone had to pull one two hour shift a day.  There were three single parents, including myself, so we each received a permanent four hour, two shift block in the mornings.  That way we could gather all of our children together in one location and watch each other's children.

            I was starting to feel much better about our prospect.

            "Zombies!"

            Our position gave us a perfect view down side of the mountain, overlooking the access road winding up to us.  And there were zombies shuffling up the middle of that road.  My heart sank.  All of my optimism died right there.

Chapter 7

            "Sergeant Gilley, I have to speak to the First Sergeant," SFC Beatty said.  "Make sure everyone gets their basic issue."

            We were in company formation outside of the supply room.  Really, it was a GP Medium.  First Platoon was slowly filing in to receive their basic issue.  Since we were Fourth Platoon, it would be a while.

            "All right, men.  You know the drill.  Hurry up and wait," I said.  "Gotta love the Army, right?"

            That got a laugh, and I noticed the men relax a little.  I wished I could relax.  They'd dragged my ass back into the Army.  All I could think about was Jenny and the boys.  At least they made it to the cabin.  Now I had to come up with a way to get to the cabin.

            Second Platoon broke up in laugher.  I glanced at them.  We were supposedly an infantry company, but were extremely under-staffed.  Second platoon was the largest with four squads, while the other platoons only had three.

            There were four E7s in our group: two Army, one Air Force, and one Marine.  Master Sergeant Samuels was active duty Air Force, but on leave when he was rounded up.  He was a combat control soldier, so practically an infantryman in my book and was put in command of First Platoon.   Gunnery Sergeant Phillips managed to get all of the Marines and sailors assigned to his Second Platoon.  Sergeant First Class Villarosa was a retired supply sergeant, but was given Third Platoon.  Sergeant First Class Beatty was given Fourth Platoon.  I got first squad under Beatty, with Mike Huston and Charlie Bailey getting the other two squads.  We were the only NCOs in our platoon.  Mike and Charlie were both buck sergeants.

            SFC Beatty was actually Army Reserve, though active.  There would've been a time when regular soldiers would've looked down on him with derision.  Not anymore.  The reserves and National Guard units deployed to the war zones just like the rest of us.  He was a combat veteran with more deployments than me, Charlie, and Mike combined.

            Problem was SFC Beatty was a tanker.  He had no infantry experience.  I didn't understand why he was put in charge of us, since the brigade had armored units.

            He was also a hard core asshole.  I think he thought he was a Drill Sergeant or something.  We were assigned four squad tents, which we had to put up.  He didn't like them, so made us tear them down and put back up three times before he was satisfied.  Personally, I think he only did it to prove his authority.

            Then he marched us over to be issued uniforms.  Once we were all nice and pretty in brand new Woodland camo BDUs, then we joined the full company to get our basic issue.

            The supply room must have been run by a logistical genius.  They marched the platoons through in record time.  Everything was laid out like at an all you can eat buffet.  We picked up a duffle bag and sent down the line and picking up one of each.  Supplies personnel watched us like hawks to ensure no one took more than allotted.

            As we exited the supply tent on the other side, there was a SP4 with a black permanent marker writing everyone's name on their duffle bag.  SFC Beatty was waiting for us.  We formed up, dumped our duffle bags, and did an inventory.  Strangely enough, we found three men with things missing.  How?

            After stowing our new gear in the tents, SFC Beatty marched us over to the armory.  We arrived before any of the other platoons.  The armory was an old barn.  Racks upon racks of weapons filled it.  It looked like they emptied the local National Guard and Army Reserve armories for a hundred mile radius.  There were a lot of weapons.

            "Is every company using the same armory?" I asked.

            "For now," the armorer said.  Staff Sergeant Edwards was a rail thin woman with a look in her eyes that said she'd spent well more than one too many tours in combat zones.  "We'll split them up once I can get some others trained properly."

            SFC Beatty, Mike, Charlie, and I discussed and assigned weapons.  Normally, combat troops weren't issued a sidearm, but they had a lot.  We made sure everyone in our platoon received the same Beretta 9mm.  Most of us were issued M-4 Carbines.  The platoon was only allowed two M-203 grenade launchers attached to M-4s, and Mike snagged one for himself.  Each squad was also assigned one M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon.

            "Are grenades even effective against zombies?" I asked.  "Only head and heart shots kill them."

            "It'll mess them up," Mike said.  "Good enough for me."

            Being the hardcore ass that he was, Beatty made us all clean our weapons first thing.  We grumbled, but did as told.  Since they were already immaculate, it didn't take long.  And then we had to turn the weapons back in.

            It was midday and time for lunch before we returned to our tents.  There was no mess hall, but there were kitchen trailers set up in four locations.  Each unit was assigned a chow trailer with cooks.  We were marched over to eat when it was our turn.

            "At least they're feeding us," Mike said.

            "Yeah.  We're lucky it isn't MREs," I added.

            "After today, it'll be MREs for breakfast and lunch, and a hot dinner," Beatty said.  "At least until we run out of food.  That might happen."

            I nodded.  Didn't matter to me.  I was out of there at the first opportunity.  Love of country, duty, service, and all that shit was second to my family.  I did my time.  I didn't want to be Uncle Sam's bitch anymore.

            We heard some booms midafternoon.  With a little digging, I found out the Air Force was bombing towns and farms close to the new border the government set up.  To the east were the contaminated lands.  Everyone, zombie or not, was considered infected, so no longer allowed to cross over the Rockies.  That was just crazy, since just about everyone of us, a ton of government officials, and the President of the United States of America just crossed over from the "contaminated lands."

            Funny how that worked.

            "Why do you keep looking at that phone, Sarge?" Mike asked me while we ate dinner.

            It was late afternoon.  We'd spent the afternoon giving classes to the platoon to get everyone back up to speed.  About half our men weren't even combat arms prior to their impressments back into service.  We had to teach every one of them how to fight as a unit as quickly as possible.

            "My wife is waiting for me to save her," I whispered.  "I promised her I was on my way, before I was swept up in this mess."

            "Where is she?" Charlie asked.

            "Georgia.  Up in the mountains around Blue Ridge," I said.  "We have a cabin.  I told her to take our two sons to the cabin, and that I was on my way to meet them there.  I can't even speak to her after the EMP."

            "That is truly messed up, man," Mike said.  "I don't have any family.  I'm an only child, and my parents died in a car accident two years ago.  I'm only twenty-two, so haven't married."

            "My family's over in Oregon," Charlie said.  "I'm just twenty-two as well.  I'm still having too much fun to settle down."

            I arched a brow.  "Oh, you find this fun?"

            "Actually, I kind of liked being in the Army," he said.  Charlie glanced around nervously, then caught and held my eyes.  "When you go AWOL, I want to go with you."

            That shocked me.  The idea of going AWOL was scary.  Good soldiers didn't do that.  Yet, he was right.  I couldn't stay.  I had greater obligations to uphold.  So it wasn't a matter of if I'd go AWOL, but when.

            "Man, that's crazy talk.  Don't let anyone hear you saying that, either.  There's already over a dozen men in the brig for just talking about leaving," I said.  "Colonel Humphries' not playing games.  This is serious shit."

            "That's not a no," Charlie said.  He leaned closer, voice dropping.  "Have you considered what kind of vehicle to commandeer, and how do we get our hands on some decent weaponry?"

            I glanced at Mike, who was leaning in, too.  He noticed my gaze.

            "Don't cut me out of the action.  I did my time," he said.  "Being a zombie border guard for no telling how long doesn't sound like anything I'd sign up for.  I live for action.  I want to go, too."

            I looked back and forth between them.  Was I that obvious?  Or was it my story that convinced them I was going over the fence at the first opportunity?  Also, there was no way to know if they were serious, or if one of them would be a mole and turn everyone involved in for some benefit.

            Thinking about how long and arduous the journey could be, I knew I'd have a better chance if I wasn't alone.  A small, highly trained team of soldiers might be able to cross the zombie dead-zone.

            "We'll need access to the armory, which we know will be guarded," I said.  "This place is filled with vehicles designed to cross hostile terrain.  One of the Humvees would be perfect.  It would hold a lot of food and ammo."

            We went for a walk around the camp.  The motor pools were guarded so we couldn't enter, but they were not individually fenced off.  Indeed, the entire camp was surrounded by concertina wire, with armed guards patrolling along the inside of it.  Then I spotted the headquarter tents.  Five Humvees idled outside them.  All were covered with desert camo paint, except for one M1113 still a solid tan.  It was completely open, and looked like one of the brand new vehicles.

            Drivers sat in all of them waiting for whatever senior officer they serviced.

            "We have transportation," I said.  "Provided they keep those Humvees ready to go at all times."

            "We can get a lot of guys in five Humvees," Mike said.

            Four of them had crew serviced weapons mounted on the roofs.  Yeah, it brought back memories of Iraq and Afghanistan.  Not all of them good.

            Even better, HQ wasn't too far from the armory.  Ideas flowed.  Most of them scary dangerous.  There was a damned good chance we'd all die in the attempt.  Still, it was better than staying and betraying my family.

            "All we have to do is figure out a way to get our hands on the armory keys," Charlie said.  "No small feat."

            "Agreed," I said.  "In the meantime, let's see if we can get hold of some road maps across the Dakotas."

            None of us were from that area.  My understanding was there weren't many roads.  It was mostly wilderness.  The Wild, Wild West, with zombies.

            When we returned to our tent, Sergeant Major Russell was talking to SFC Beatty.  We hung back until they finished and the Sergeant Major strode off.

            "Gilley," Beatty said, looking impatient as we approached.  "You're Sergeant of the Guard tonight."