Deadrise 2: Deadwar (14 page)

“Y-yes.”

“Good, because I really don’t want to kill you. Every time humans kill humans, it’s a bad thing. Do you have a family Roy?”

“Yes. A wife and son.”

“How old is your son?”

“Five.”

“What did you do before the deadrise, Roy?”

“I worked for my father.”

“What did your father do?”

“He was a construction contractor.”

“What did you do for him?” Jenkins interest was piqued.

“Vice President of Operations. Basically an over glorified foreman. I went around from job site to job site, making sure things were on track and the various sub-contractors had what they needed.”

“So you know all aspects of construction well?” Jenkins couldn’t hide his pleasure.

Sensing an advantage, Roy Adkins poured it on. “Carpentry, electrician, plumbing, sheet metal framing, dry walling, brick laying, stone work… If it has to do with construction, commercial or residential, I probably know something about it.”

“I’m going to make you an offer Roy, so I want you to listen real close.” Jenkins paused to take another long drag of his cigarette, stretching out the moment for maximum suspense. “I want you to swear an oath of loyalty to me, on the life of your wife and child Roy. To me and nobody else. And in return, I will relocate you and your family to Rainbow Lake, where it is safe, and your son can run and play outdoors, and you and your wife can walk along a sandy beach. We are an expanding community, and have
great
need of a man with your knowledge and skills. What do you say Roy?”

“Yes! Yes!” he couldn’t blurt it out fast enough. “I’ll swear any oath you want General, just protect my family.” Jenkins bent down and un-cuffed Adkins, instructing him to stay on the ground.

“Pledge me your loyalty, on the lives of your wife and son. Should you ever betray me, their lives are forfeit.” Jenkins demanded.

“I swear my loyalty to you General Jenkins; to you and you alone. You have saved my live, and the life of my family. I am yours to command, and should I ever betray you…may the lives of my wife and son be taken in payment.” He looked up at Jenkins submissively.

“Ok, get up. Go to your family. Be prepared to relocate in the morning…”

CHAPTER 16

Thursday August 9, 2001

Jamestown, WY

5:45 PM

Lieutenant Stan Hansen leaned back in the easy chair and gave a tired sign of relief. It was the first time he had truly relaxed in the past twenty-four hours.

Since yesterday afternoon, Lt. Hansen’s Alpha Two platoon as well as Bravo One and Two and the entire Mountain View security force had been engaged in a hard assault against the Green River horde. Smitty Tucker and the surviving members of his crew had even come along, aching for some payback. And boy did they get some. There must have been five thousand zombies advancing towards them on I-80 and it was a one-sided slaughter. Not a single man was lost while every zombie in the horde was cut down. If there were superzombies present, they didn’t make their presence known.

Wednesday morning they had rolled into Jamestown, which had a pre-plague population of just a few thousand, now mostly zombies. It was there that the superzombies attacked, shooting and killing Pvt. Tristan Horner of Bravo Two and wounding Pvt. Mario Olmos of Bravo One. But the full force of the Militia had been too much for the superzombies to bear; two of them had been destroyed while a third escaped in a vehicle. Smitty Tucker claimed it was his former gang member. The rest of the zombies in Jamestown had been vanquished and come morning the General called a halt to the advance, ordering them to set up camp at the edge of Jamestown. That had been easy enough; the militia simply barricaded one residential cul-de-sac and let the men occupy several of the houses.

Hansen’s platoon settled into theirs, and then the men had ventured out to do some looting in the neighborhood; siphoning gas tanks, searching for bullets, weapons, jewelry and clothes for their wives, candy for their children, drugs and alcohol and tobacco for themselves and for trade. They were supposed to turn over all they salvaged for redistribution throughout the community, but everyone always skimmed a little. General Jenkins encouraged it, saying it kept the morale high. That was good enough for Lt. Hansen. Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t partial to a bottle of whiskey, a puff of weed or a good cigar, not to mention his wife Tina enjoyed reading paperback novels, and his son Stan Jr. liked model cars and comic books. He should have been out there with his men, but he was tired, and wanted to relax awhile.

The power was off in Jamestown, and he sat there quietly in the summer heat. He didn’t remember dozing, but he snapped awake as the front door popped open and in came his squadron. Pvt. Law was first in the door, with an open bottle of whiskey in one hand and a large joint in the other. He was in the middle of boisterous laughter, no doubt having just finished one of his jokes. Behind him came Pvt. Wilcox, a smile spread across his chubby, be-speckled face. He carried a small suitcase in one hand, no doubt full of presents for his wife and daughters, and a battery operated lantern in the other; its strong light cast the shadows to the corner of the room. Bringing up the rear was the new man to the squad, Private Stuart Corbett. A short, trim man in his mid thirties, his short black hair complimented his perfect smile and movie star good looks.

“Hey Lt. Want a shot?” Pvt. Law asked extending the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Thanks.” Lt. Larsen took the bottle and tipped back a long pull, the fiery liquid calming his nerves. He handed the bottle back to Lt. Law. “How went the treasure hunt?”

“I found a ring and some jewelry for my girl.” Cpl. Law said with a smile. He had taken up with one of the Mountain View women, and after less than a week he was already going to propose to her.

“Some clothes for my wife and coloring books for my daughters.” Pvt. Wilcox said quietly and patted the suitcase.

“A little of this, a little of that.” Pvt. Corbett said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick cigar, still wrapped in cellophane. “For you, boss.” He handed the cigar to Larsen, who took it with a smile.

He had just gotten the cigar smoking well and taken a couple more pulls off Law’s bottle when his radio crackled, and his presence was requested at the HQ, a house half a block up the street. Aside from General Jenkins, Councilman Casey would also be there.

“Duty calls.” Larsen said and rose to his feet with a groan. “You have any more of these?” he asked Pvt. Corbett, wiggling his cigar.

“Sure.” The Private nodded.

“Give me a few more for the General and Councilman and Captain Turner.” Corbett nodded and pulled three more cigars from his vest pocket.

“You ass kisser.” Cpl. Law smirked.

“Your damn right I am. There's only one Major, two Captains and one Colonel and in this Militia who outrank me. Sooner or later, we are going to need more Captains, Majors and Colonels. Think about it.” He gave a wink and headed for the door, but stopped just before exiting. “Don’t get too smashed Law. Tomorrow we push into Green River. I want you sharp.” Law was his squad vehicle driver.

“Roger, boss…“ Law raised the whiskey bottle to him. Larsen just smiled and exited the house…

CHAPTER 17

Sunday August 12, 2001

Mountain View, WY

11:09 AM

The battle of Green River was over, and Matt had missed the entire thing, even Jamestown. He’d wanted to go but Doc Reilly had thrown him that stern, fatherly glance of his, and without saying it had told him
Just you try and go on that assault, and I’ll have your wife on the radio so fast your head will spin!
The Doc even frowned on him going up in the chopper with Jenkins. He had been forced to stay behind.

But now that the battle was over, and the city relatively secure, the Doc had given his nod for Matt to advance to Green River. Racing out to the parking lot, the first vehicle he came across was Bravo Two's large black van. Surprisingly, the surviving members of the squad were huddled about, remembering their lost comrade, Pvt. Tristan Horner. Seeing the Councilman, they snapped to attention. That always made Matt uncomfortable, and he quickly put them at ease.

“What are your orders?” Matt asked the squad leader, Cpl. Miller.

“We are on reserve call, sir.”

“I need transportation to Green River.”

“Whatever you wish, sir.” Cpl. Miller said with a smile. Both he and Pvt. Summerhays were bored stiff, and were craving action. Matt climbed into the passenger seat, while Cpl. Miller took the wheel.

The hour long drive from Mountain View to Green River was uneventful, although the fifty mile stretch of I-80 in between was littered with the bodies of thousands of smashed, broken and pulverized zombies. Zack was reminded of the road outside the University of Utah, when they had first fled the city, two months ago.

Two months?

It seemed like two years, at least. So much had happened to him, Susan, David, and Zack
…
that it was hard to conceive that it had only been eight short weeks since he and Zack had sat huddled in the front room of their house, watching the US soldiers shoot the Clancy family across the street in cold blood…

Beside him, Cpl. Miller was saying a quiet prayer, for the souls of the damned splattered onto the highway, or they’re own, Matt could not tell.

“Its funny how they don’t even phase you after awhile.” Matt said aloud. “When the zombies first appeared, I nearly froze up just looking at them…” He trailed off, reminiscing on all of the atrocities he had witnessed the past two months.

Once they reached Green River, Cpl. Miller drove to the center of the city, where the Militia had established a HQ in the City Hall. Several military vehicles were parked in the intersection out front, and members of Bravo Three stood guard outside. The helicopter was sitting in a large open green of the community park just across the street. Cpl. Miller parked the van in front of the HQ and Matt thanked him and exited the vehicle. As he made his way inside he spotted a large moving van driving slowly up the street, laden with treasure from the city.

The sack of Green River had begun…

The main lobby of the Town Hall had been converted into the War Room. The power was out in Green River, but they had provided their own via gasoline-powered generators. Private Jordan had set up a tactical communications center, tying a portable computer and video communication system into the buildings satellite feed, which could both transmit and receive, and then manually aligning the rooftop satellite dish to uplink with one of the US Military satellites they had access to. That connected him to the Home network and all of its assets. Pvt. Jordan sat at his station, tapping at the keys with a frantic pace. General Jenkins stood nearby, speaking with Captain Turner.

“Good news Matt,” Jenkins piped without taking his eyes off the paper. “We found refugees, approximately one hundred and fifty of them.”

“Where?” Matt asked.

“You are going to love this…the high school.” Matt recalled the half a week he had spent in the bomb shelter of Granite High School down in Salt Lake City, and they both got a good chuckle.

“How goes everything else?” Matt asked.

“Not too bad. We didn’t suffer any casualties taking down the Green River Horde, but the Tincan needs some serious maintenance…it may not make it back to the Lake without a tow.”

“Shit.” Matt muttered. The tank was one of their frontlines of offense and defense. “Where the hell are we going to get spare tank parts?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I think our best bet is to make contact with Hill Air Force Base.”

“Can we trust them?”

“I wonder the same thing.” Captain Turner piped in.

“We all do.” Jenkins replied. “But the fact of the matter is we need spare parts for the Tincan. The only other option I can think of is a raid down to Fort Douglas in Salt Lake. There might be some replacement parts in the garages, if the Sentinels haven’t already used them for their own tanks.”

That put a grimace on Matt’s face. They had barely escaped that place with their lives, neither one of them was in any hurry to return.

“I guess it wouldn’t be worth the effort to discuss this in Council before making contact?” Matt asked dejectedly.

“Sure it would. I’m going to be tied up here a few more days. I think we can get by without the Tincan for a week. I’ll have it sent back to Rainbow Lake right away. Jordan?” Jenkins called over his shoulder.

“I’m already on it, sir.” The Pvt. said without taking his eyes off his monitor.

“Once we get back home remind me to promote him.” Jenkins said with a smile.

“What if the Council is against contacting Hill AFB?” Matt asked.

“It’s up to you and your wife and your brother-in-law to convince them.” Jenkins said while clapping Matt on the shoulder. Matt didn’t like Jenkins cocky, superior attitude. He might strut around as General Jenkins to the Militia, but to Matt, he was just Jenkins, his partner…one of several. “Is that a problem?” Jenkins asked.

“No.” Matt snapped back, swallowing his anger.