Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation (34 page)

“Would
they require permanent housing?” inquired Major Briggs. “And, would they bring
supplies? If so, how much and what? Also, what time of year are you
anticipating?”

I
nodded. “There is a world of difference between summer and winter where we
live. It’s worse in Yellowstone. Travel in the winter there is mostly limited
to snowmobiles, horses, or on foot. The roads completely vanish.”

“It
would not be until next spring,” he clarified, “and the ten thousand is a maximum
figure, our military plus volunteers. The real number will more likely be half
that.”

“You’re
still putting them in Yellowstone?” asked Mary.

“Correct.
They will be stationed there.”

“Keeping
to that timetable, we can have basic housing and facilities prepared,” replied
the major, “meaning large log cabins, barracks style. Jacob is going to secure
the Air Force base in Rapid City as well, but that won’t happen until just
prior to arrival.”

“Easy
enough to do, but too much trouble to hold it indefinitely,” I explained,
noting the president’s perplexed expression. “We go there regularly and keep an
eye on the place, but I can’t spare the people who would be needed to guard it
round the clock, not for more than a few days. You do want the base?”

“We are
working on several scenarios,” admitted the president, “but almost all of these
include using Ellsworth Air Force Base as a transport hub. Much of the earliest
work will be out of Yellowstone or the nearby airstrips, but that will
eventually shift.”

That
jived with what Major Briggs had been telling me. Personally, I would probably
set up in Ellsworth right off the bat. Wall it off, maybe with a combination of
chain link, cinderblocks, razor wire, and well placed trenches, and it would be
safe from the shamblers. This should give the military a solid headquarters
with easy access to the interstates and highways. Of course, there might be
some political issues of which I was unaware that had everyone leaning toward
the Yellowstone first plan. Or maybe they just wanted to be around real people.

“Which
way are you going to go?” I asked. “Once you start moving out to kill the
zombies, I mean.”

“That
remains to be seen. We will clear the immediate region first.”

“That’s
easy,” interjected Mary. “We kill any that come close ourselves or get them
going the opposite direction. You won’t find too many near us.”

Lawson
disregarded her interruption. “Next would be ensuring the primary highways are
passable and selecting specific high density areas, such as Denver, for
attack.”

“While
going where huge groups of zombies are gathered will let you cut the numbers
down fast,” I began, “you really, really should consider taking small towns
first. There are still plenty of canned goods and other useful supplies to be
found, helping with the supply situation. It’s also the most likely place you
will find survivors.”

“Less
likely to get eaten too,” said Mary. “It’ll give you practice. Practice is
important. Without practice I wouldn’t be able to make happy faces at fifty
feet.”

The
president looked at her appraisingly.

“Mary is
capable of doing this,” confirmed Major Briggs, “and Mary, you’re forgetting
that units have been landing on both coasts. The Army and Marine Corps are
developing new tactics and practicing the rapid formation of firing lines. They
will be more than ready.”

“I’ll
bet you two chickens and a gallon of Steph’s moonshine, I mean emergency
medication, that our militia can out zombie kill anyone else. Same goes for you
Mr. P, if you want in on the action.”

Ooh,
that title was bound to stick, or at least become part of the gossip circuit. The
senators might not have joined in the conversation, but several were only a few
feet away, pretending not to listen.

“That is
a bold statement, young lady,” he replied, not losing any of his good humor,
“and one that I think is inherently unfair.”

“Hey,
I’m always fair.” Mary giggled. “Even when I’m cheating.”

Briana
was way off on the opposite side of the room. Hurray for that.

“I’ve
met with the instructors previously stationed in both the Black Hills and
Yellowstone,” continued President Lawson. “They were quick to point out that
your militias are not up to military standards.”

Major
Briggs stiffened, and Mary looked more than a little pissed. I did not react,
waiting to hear the rest of it.

“I was
told that your leaders, especially in the case of Jacob, require them to ignore
traditional military discipline, close order drills, protocol, and many of the
more specialized training. Instead, the focus was on marksmanship,
marksmanship, and marksmanship with every man capable of doubling as a sniper.”

“We do
like to kill people at a distance,” agreed Mary, softening somewhat,
“especially if they aren’t looking.”

I found
myself nodding.

“In
conjunction with being the best shots possible, these men described the system
of utilizing small, closely knit squads – I believe it is ten in the Black
Hills and twenty in Yellowstone – with such units forming the core of your
militia. Am I correct in saying that you desire to create what is essentially
an entire army composed of special forces?”

“We
don’t have the population for a standard infantry regiment,” I remarked, “much
less one including mechanized units, aside from our helicopters and small
planes. Those are all piloted by civilians, in case you didn’t know. None have
ever served.”

“Didn’t
stop them from blowing up the raiders,” laughed Mary. “You should see what a
Cobra can do to a person’s body with their guns. It is a little gory with
inside parts leaking out and spilling on the ground – don’t be watching if you
have a wimpy stomach – but we are talking about a whole lot of fun. You need to
give us more of them.”

Mary was
definitely going to be a focus of local conversation for quite some time.
Should I try to calm her down? Hell, no. This was entertaining.

“I’ve
seen images that the major here sent our way,” confirmed the president. “They
were quite dreadful.”

Mary
snorted and tossed her hair back with one hand. “Were not. Those monsters
deserved it.” She paused. “That doesn’t count the ones in the cave. We did not
know they had their children right behind the machine guns that were shooting
at us. We wouldn’t have fired the missiles at them if we did.”

“The man
had little concern for human life,” agreed Major Briggs. “He put his own in
danger. Then we have the thousands, probably tens of thousands, of innocent
men, women, and children, including newborn babies, his forces raped, tortured,
and killed since it all began.”

“The
world is better off without that group operating,” stated President Lawson.

No one
was going to argue with him. Along with footage of the battles, Briggs sent
recordings of the atrocities committed. Some were pictures we’d taken while
recovering the dead, but others were videos shot by the bastards themselves.
The number of humans capable of viewing these, without throwing up, is quite
small.

“There
are some elsewhere in the world behaving similarly, unfortunately.”

Those
close enough to hear stirred.

“How
so?” I asked.

“The
Caliphate has absorbed every Muslim group it has encountered, provided they
were suitably devout and Sunni. Shiites and the smaller sects have been
exterminated, the men anyway. Non-Muslims have been enslaved. We do know that
they are openly practicing slavery, and, as it stands right now, there is
nothing we can do about it.”

“How
many of them are there?”

He
looked at me. “That’s hard to say, perhaps a hundred thousand with most
scattered about between Pakistan and Turkey, but it could be far more. They are
not part of our discussions this week though. That is to focus on next year’s
planned recovery of America.” His gaze shifted to Mary. “While I’m thinking
about it, let’s return to my initial point about your militias.”

“You
were saying something about us not being up to military standards,” she
prompted.

“Yes,
with your system of training and what you focus on, your militia members are
generally better shots than our soldiers. The target range reports certainly
bear that out with rifles, and there is no doubt as to pistols.”

“Small
groups of zombies are often allowed to draw close,” explained Major Briggs.
“This is most common when fighting in cities and towns. It is often impossible
to engage at a distance. A handgun offers greater flexibility in such
instances.”

“We kill
more of them with pistols than rifles,” I clarified. “General rule is to let
them get within fifteen feet for a guaranteed hit.”

“That’s
for weenies,” declared Mary. “Ten feet for me.”

“Ten
feet?”

“That’s
right, Mr. P.” She was smiling broadly.

“Fifteen
feet when she’s behaving. Less when my daughter wants to be doing extra chores.”

“Dad is
sort of picky about silly safety stuff.” She poked me in the side with one
finger. “No sense of adventure.”

“The
point is that you are perfectly suited to putting zombies down. I realize you
requested the instructors for the purpose of dealing with the raiders, which
lent itself to the small unit special warfare system you developed. Everything
that was covered in your training and set up reflects this, extreme use of
snipers, no weapons that cannot be carried while on foot in difficult terrain.
Yet, all of this also transfers to the dead, especially your obsession with
hitting what you aim at.”

“That’s
not so much an obsession as common sense,” I pointed out, trying to be polite
while I said it.

“I
understand,” replied Lawson. “But, you have a society and militia, due in large
part to the travails you have faced, that is perfectly equipped and suited to
dealing with the zombies and any small, rogue groups you may face. How do you
think you would fare against a properly trained, properly equipped company of
grunts, either American or from a developed nation with a strong military
tradition?”

“We
would…” Mary trailed off. “We’d probably get our asses handed to us, if we
fought fair. We try not to do that.”

“No one
tries to fight fair,” commented the major. “It’s a good way to get yourself
killed.”

“Hey, I
get to be sneaky, but no one else. I like having the advantage, same way that I
like having lots of chocolate. Do you have any chocolate? We ran out ages ago.”

“I’ll
see what I can do about that,” promised the president. “It was not a priority
crop, and our local cultivation is very, very limited.”

“Well,”
she pressed, “then go and invade someone who does grow whatever it is that chocolate
comes from.”

“That
would be Mexico south and portions of Africa, a few places in southern Asia.”

“Let’s
invade Mexico then,” suggested Mary. “I bet there aren’t that many people left
down there. They probably wouldn’t even complain too much.”

President
Lawson leaned in, but did not lower his voice. “The long term plan is for the
United States to encompass the entirety of North America and the nearby
islands.”

None of
the senators and other lurking officials reacted. While this was news to me, it
had apparently been discussed previously.

“I see
no reason not to lay claim,” he continued.

Personally,
I thought there were plenty of justifications in favor, with acquisition of
natural resources being foremost on the list.

“I don’t
think anyone elsewhere will object, aside from independent minded locals, but
those appear to be few and far between. I also expect the British and Swiss to
take Europe, aside from the easternmost parts Russia has claimed. China will
end up with most of southern Asia. The Japanese and Israelis will probably
settle for less, just the territory nearest them, but you never know. No
shortage of land to go around.”

“The
Caliphate has declared dominion over the entire world,” pointed out Major
Briggs.

“Who
cares what they say?” Mary shook her head. “They’re just crazy. Want to bet on whether
or not we end up fighting them too?”

As if
zombies, the raiders, and The Brotherhood had not been enough.

*
* *

“You
said what to the president?” demanded Briana.

We were
back in the hotel room getting ready to head over to the beach again. Asher
wanted to build a sand castle.

“Don’t
worry,” began the major. “I think he truly enjoyed the conversation. Lawson is
more accessible than any other president in recent history, but people still
tend to be formal. Mary was not outright disrespectful or rude, and he realized
that. She talked like he was an ordinary person.”

“He is
an ordinary person,” she protested. “Nothing special about being president. He
gets to boss around more people than my dad, but that’s it.”