Apocalypse Atlanta (Book 4): Apocalypse Asylum (4 page)

“That’s neither here nor there, and I won’t hash over what could’ve and should’ve been with everything going on.” Sawyer said after a moment.  “But Gunny, you can’t just walk out on us.”

“I’m not walking out.  It’s been nearly two months, things are stable, and you’re effectively in maintenance mode.”

“We still need another week before we can be certain we’ve got enough calories on hand to make it through to spring.”

“The food’s out there, and gas and trucks to get it back too.  The scavenge teams know what they’re doing, same as the perimeter guards, the camp staff . . . I’m a fifth wheel at this point.”

“You’re a leader.”

“Maybe.” Peter shrugged again.  “Probably.  Okay, yes.  But there’s not a lot of leading that needs doing at this point; not from me anyway.  Everything’s going well.  I’m not kidding that things might get tough when winter settles in and people start getting cranky from the cold, but you’ll pull everyone through.”

“We’ll pull everyone through.”

Peter looked at her with his most serious expression.  “I think, right now, the best and most useful thing I can do to help the camp is to help Ellsworth speed their relief operations up.”

“If they’re organized enough to have that much of what’s left of the government up there, then I’m not sure how much speeding up one Marine can offer them.” she objected.  “Even a Master Gunnery Sergeant.”

“You know how hard the military got hit when the outbreak started.  Hell, your own camp census is proof enough; there are the better part of five thousand people here and excepting the people I arrived with, only a few dozen others who were active service — or recently active — turned up.  I might be an E-9, but odds are someone with an ‘O’ number should have materialized by now, even at least a fucking butterbar O-1.”

“I’ll take you over just about any officer I’ve ever dealt with.”

“That’s flattering Shellie, but my point is trained manpower is thin on the ground after all the turning and eating the zombies did in the first few days of this thing.”

“All the more reason I need you here.”

“I’ve passed my knowledge along and things are organized smoothly here.” Peter said.  “You can do without me now, so I’m leaving.”

Sawyer studied him for a few moments.  “What if I forbid you to?”

“You can’t.”

“No?”

“No.” Peter said calmly.  “I’m your subordinate when it comes to the camp, but my oath was sworn to what’s pulling itself together in South Dakota.  That’s where I need to be.”

“Damnit Gunny, I need you.”

“No you don’t.”

She gave him an imploring look.  “You’re my sheriff and field commander.  I might be in charge, but if things drop in the pot a lot of people are going to look to you.  What happens if you split; where does that leave me?”

“In charge, same as you are now.” Peter told her.  “Relax.  You’re doing fine, going to be fine.  People respond well to you, they respect your position.  You don’t need me.”

“I need someone.”

“Mendez has a good rapport with the camp guards, and Whitley has a surprisingly clever knack for keeping her eye on the big picture.  Either one would make a fine military advisor.”

“I assumed you were going to pull everyone out with you.”

Peter shook his head.  “I’m going; they can make their own decision.  I’ll let them know what I’ve decided, but ever since Atlanta we’ve all been volunteers with a shared purpose.”

“What if they all do want to leave with you?”

“I’ll do what I can to dissuade them, at least, some of them; but I don’t expect that to be the case.  Frankly, if more than half want to tag along I’d be shocked.”

“Why’s that?”

Peter checked the hallway reflexively, then lowered his voice slightly.  “They’re all good people, especially considering what they’ve gotten through to make it this far, but ultimately they’re just reservists.  They had their chances to go career and didn’t, for whatever reason.  This here is way more than I figure any of them ever expected to find after the outbreaks, and is also closer to any sort of stability than they’re going to see if they come with me to South Dakota.”

“What’s that mean?”

He chuckled.  “I’m surprised, I would have figured you’d have a better grasp on this.”

“Just because I was a Marine brat doesn’t mean I know everything that goes on in uniform.”

“Well, think about it.  The camp is easy duty.  I’m not kidding about how sticky things might get if a couple thousand zombies turn up, and how much camping through the winter is going to suck, but honestly the odds of something really bad happening are probably really low.  A couple handfuls of stragglers a day is no sweat, and the scavenge runs aren’t much more dangerous as long as everyone remembers to take things nice and careful.

“My guys and girls are good people, like I said, but they’re not careerists.  They stuck with me because we were all headed in the same direction; and I’m pretty sure this was the sort of thing they were all aiming for.  As it turned out, I just happened to be coming here.  They came along for the ride, but this is their stop.”

Sawyer shook her head.  “You’re seriously going to go to South Dakota?”

“Ninety-nine percent, yeah.”

“What might make you stay?”

“If they’re not taking volunteers, or if it sounds like they’re not holding on very well, but if they’re running national radio broadcasts I bet they’re doing fine.  And you heard them say they
do
want recruits to join up.”

“You realize how far it is to South Dakota.”

“I’d have to check the map, but it’s far.  More than a thousand miles.”

“This is the heart of the southeast, and you’re talking about cruising all the way up to the northern edge of the Midwest.  In the middle of a zombie apocalypse.”

“Yeah.”

Sawyer shook her head.  “I’ll never truly understand Marines.”

Peter grinned.  “Yeah, we’re dedicated.”

“Insane was what I was going for.”

“Gunny—”

“Gunny this is—”

“You can’t be serious—”

Peter shut the door firmly behind himself and raised a hand to forestall the jumble of simultaneous voices.  It took a few seconds, but the assembled soldiers of ‘the unit’ trailed off and he could get a word in without having to shout.  “Grab some wood and listen.”

They all returned to their chairs in what had become the ersatz ‘security planning office’; formerly Mrs. Hertz’s world history classroom.  After tugging on the doorknob again to make sure it had shut, Peter crossed to the teacher’s desk and stood behind it with folded arms.  “Okay, in the interests of full disclosure, since I know several of you have been busy running security on scavenge trips, here’s everything I know about what’s going on.”

He studied the faces watching him, keeping his expression and voice calm.  “The group in South Dakota seems to be on the level.  They’re claiming to be the Emergency Federal Government, and absent a direct visit up there to confirm, I think they’re for real.  I think they’re for real enough to take seriously, which is good enough for
me
.”  He stressed the qualifier very slightly.

“They say they’ve taken over Ellsworth AFB and have turned it into a safe zone.  They also say they’re totally focused on maintaining and expanding that safe zone so they can work on relief efforts.”

“What relief efforts?” Mendez asked, finally losing his battle against just listening quietly.  “They say they’ve got hundreds of civilian support staff to protect and are scrambling to find trained teams to do that and push patrols with.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” Peter disagreed.

“No it’s not.” Mendez insisted stubbornly.  “I’ve heard all the transmissions; they’ve got a couple handfuls of recently active service, about fifty or sixty reservists, and a little more than twice that who’re retired service.”

“And all those civilians.”

“What good are civvies going to be?”

Peter gestured in the direction of the athletic fields beyond the room and building walls.  “With a little bit of direction, quite a bit.”

“As you damn well know.” Whitley said, which Peter thought was a fair statement; Mendez had taken the lead in screening and training those who’d volunteered from the camp’s survivor population into a workable armed guard force.  Mendez gave her a second of glare, but switched his eyes back to Peter before the gaze could be more than annoyed.

“And, just like us here, they’ve got a lot of useful skills and willing hands in their civvies.” Peter said, taking the conversation’s thread back in hand.  “And they’ve got deeper pool to find things in than we do.  For example; they’re working on a proper power plant so they can stop fooling around with small generators, and they say they’re looking at piecing together a treatment plant to ease their water situation.”

“So?” Oliver asked.  “We’ve got power here, and we’re treating our water.”

“Yeah, and that little treatment rig Sawyer’s people helped come up with can supply up to six thousand people a day as long as the bleach holds out.” Dorne added.

“You ready to drive halfway across the country just for a hot shower Gunny?” Crawford asked.

Peter held up a hand to still the comments, then dropped it back into the folded position across his chest.  “Ellsworth’s sole mission right now is to expand the safe perimeter by clearing zombies.  Their current goal is to get the nearest cities and towns west and south of them secured.  And they’re going to keep going, city by city, state by state, until they’ve got everything between the coasts stabilized.”

“No way.” Barker said more than a little sourly.

“It’s just a matter of applying resources.” Smith pointed out.

“Yeah, it’s not impossible.” Roper put in.

“The hell it isn’t.” Barker said stubbornly.

“Someone’s got to do it.” Whitley said, while Crawford leaned forward with a rude and aggressive smile on her features.

“Don’t worry yourself over it Barker.” Crawford said in a voice dripping with false sweetness.  “Just sit on your ass out here in the sticks and wait for the cavalry.”

“Hey fuck you Crawford.” the man bristled.  “I’m pulling my weight and then some.”

“Yeah, you’re a real big help.” she snorted, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms in an emulation of Peter’s.  “Walking the fence and working on disaster response plans.  You haven’t left the school grounds in over two weeks.”

“Knock it off.” Peter said sharply.  “Lips shut, eyes up here.”  Heads swiveled back to him, and he made his voice sterner.  “I know it seems like an impossible task, but that’s just because it’s an important one.  Everything worth doing is always hard.”

“Gunny, the last estimates put the conversion rate at least a third, and the secondary conversion and casualty figures push the total to somewhere between fifty-five and seventy percent depending on how optimistic you want to be.” Mendez said in a voice that was obviously under heavy control to keep level.

“Even if you assume most victims died rather than turning, we’re talking well north of a hundred million zombies just in America.  And that doesn’t even count Canada or Mexico, or whatever the fuck is going on down in South America.”

“It’s a big problem.” Peter agreed.  “But that doesn’t mean whoever’s left just gives up and waits to die.”

“I’m not waiting to die, but a group of people that might not even be into five figures can’t take out zombies numbering into the nine digit range.”

“Not head on, no.  But they know that and are taking things nice and slow.  Clear, secure, physically barricade, move on.  As they expand, they’ll add survivors who can pitch in and increase the working manpower.”

“But—”

Peter finally let a bit of his temper show.  “Okay, the next interruption before I say I’m ready to entertain comments and concerns and I’m going to be seriously fucking pissed.”  He glared around the room for several seconds, his face daring anyone to try him.  Mendez subsided, and others shifted in their chairs, as the silence drew out.  Peter finally nodded once and gathered his thoughts back together.

“It’s a big task, but it has to be done and someone has to start it.  I’m not diminishing the numbers, but as we all know not every zombie who’s turned is still walking around.  Some of them have gotten themselves killed, and others have been taken out by survivors.  Even allowing for that though, there are a lot of them out there.  Unless they just go away after a few months or whatever, they’re going to be here until someone deals with them.

“I’m not counting on the problem just resolving itself, and neither is Ellsworth.  The assumption is, to deal with the problem, every zombie is going to have to be found and neutralized.  Until that happens, we’re
all
reduced to bunker and scavenge survival.  I don’t accept that as a new way of life.  As a stopgap, as an emergency measure, yes.  As the ongoing path a year from now, five years from now, ten years from now . . . no.”

Peter unfolded his arms and gestured broadly around at the walls of the room.  “I hope, I expect, there’s a lot of this kind of thing going on all over the country.  Based on what we’ve seen in our immediate region, there are probably a couple hundred thousand holdfasts scattered around everywhere a group of survivors managed to get themselves into a securable location.

“Even allowing for how hard winter is going to hit some of the less prepared groups, that’s a lot of people waiting around to be saved.  Some of them are probably doing some saving of their own, but as Crawford and the rest of you love to point out; I’m old.  I’ve seen a lot of shit in my time, and my read is with this kind of crap happening most survivors are going to find their bit of safety and go into sit tight mode.

“Ellsworth is what I’ve been looking for since everything went to hell.  Since bad went beyond worse in Atlanta, and since Atlanta.  I’ll walk if I have to, but I’m going to South Dakota to sign up for the duration or until there’s nothing useful left for me to do.  I’m not interested in waiting to be rescued, and God knows there’s plenty of rescuing to be done.  Ellsworth is where I want to be, not sitting on my ass here in Cumming.”

He glanced around at the faces and sighed internally.  “Now, I’ve talked with Ms. Sawyer, and she knows my feelings.  I’ve already told her I’m not stripping her security cadre out to come with me, and I meant it.  You’ve all been with me since Atlanta, and we’ve been through a lot.  I called this meeting to let you know I’m going, not to organize us to all go.

“Anyone who’s happy staying on here at the camp is more than welcome to keep right on doing that.  Ms. Sawyer’s got plenty for you all to do, to teach and oversee and guard, and there’s nothing wrong with any of that.  It’s good, important work.  You’re helping people, and sticking around to keep doing that is a good thing.”

Peter drew a deep breath and stuck his hands in his pockets.  “Other than what I’ve already said, the main thing I need to do is a sort of change of command ceremony.  Show of hands, who’s staying on?”

A couple of hands went up immediately; Mendez and Barker.  Peter nodded encouragingly at them, and though he offered the gesture to show he wasn’t ready to jump down anyone’s throats, he meant it.  He was fully prepared to go alone, and he didn’t begrudge anyone who wanted to stick with the camp.

Nailor’s hand rose, followed in swift sequence by Oliver, Dorne and Jenkins.  Peter looked around.  “That it?”

Roper shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.  “Uh . . .”  Peter gestured for him to speak, and the Guardsman shrugged.  “I’d be willing to throw in with the big picture relief effort if it was closer, but with them halfway to hell and back, I’d just as soon sit tight here and keep things running smoothly.”

“That’s fine.” Peter nodded.  “Ms. Sawyer definitely has a big role for you in particular.  In fact, she’s mentioned pulling you out of all security functions entirely to focus solely on storage and organization efforts as resources come in.  You should talk with her about that today or tomorrow.”

Roper nodded, and Peter transferred his attention to the remaining three members of the group.  “You guys don’t have your hands up.”

“Observant.” Crawford said, tipping her chair back a little and folding her arms across her chest in an imitation of his previous posture.  Her eyes met his directly, and her expression seemed to be an odd mixture of boredom and determination.

“Can we put our hands down now?” Jenkins asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Peter said.  He studied the faces of the three who hadn’t raised theirs at all.  Whitley looked about like she usually did; ready and attentive; while Smith’s face bore something that was vaguely in the neighborhood of eagerness.  “Okay, what’s the deal with the rest of you?”

Crawford grinned when he looked back at her.  “Like you said Gunny, you’re old.”

“And?” Peter responded, raising an eyebrow at her and refusing to rise to the bait she was so obviously dangling.

“Well, it just doesn’t seem fair to let you drive from here to South Dakota with your blinker on the entire way.” she shrugged.

“Jesus Crawford.” Whitley said, turning to look at the other woman.

“What?”

“You ever get tired of being a smart ass?” Smith asked her.

Crawford shrugged again.  “Girl’s gotta amuse herself somehow.”

“So you’re saying you want to go to South Dakota then?” Peter pressed, ignoring — as usual — the rude aspects of her statements.

“Fuck yeah.  Should be fun.”

“Same.” Smith said, turning back to Peter.  “There’s a lot that needs doing, and the sooner it gets done the safer everyone’s going to be.”

Peter nodded and looked at Whitley.  “What about you?”

“Try and keep me here.” the sergeant said with a silent chuckle curving her lips.

Peter evaluated the three of them again, searching for any signs of . . . unwillingness, or perhaps even just simple reluctance; but they seemed committed.  He nodded after a few seconds and addressed the others.  “Okay, that’s good.  The rest of you, my recommendation to Ms. Sawyer is going to be for Sergeant Mendez to take my slot, but it’s her decision.”

Heads nodded, which Peter was relieved to see.  He didn’t want to hear, either over the radio or after he managed to fight back into Georgia with a large security force, about the Cumming camp descending back into the sort of armed dictatorship that had been forming under the auspices of State Senator Carlson.

“That’s basically what I wanted to cover.  With any luck, we’ll be seeing each other again soon.  But I think we’ve all learned to just take shit as it comes by now, so stay focused on the day to day and keep everyone safe.  Don’t let your edge start slipping because things look stable.  Remember Atlanta.”

“No shit.” Crawford nodded, letting her chair come back down on all four legs with a solid thump.

“The rest of you head back to whatever you’re scheduled for.  Us four, let’s get ready to roll.  I’d like to be on the road first thing in the morning.”