“Dan, I have a new present for you.” He removed a smaller gun from a box he was working in. It was smaller than the M4 I had been carrying. “This here is an H&K MP5. It is built to fire 9mm ammo and has a screw-on silencer and a red dot low light scope.” He handed it to me, and as I took it, I handed over my bag to Brian. The first thing I noticed was that it was so much lighter than the M4. “The ammo is much lighter also, so you can carry more magazines in your new vest and shit loads more in your Zomgo bag. 9mm is great ammo for taking out zombies. Once it penetrates, it deforms and bounces around inside the brain turning it to mush. But if you shoot a man wearing a vest, the ammo will not penetrate. For that you have your .45 ACP 1911 sidearm in your leg holster. Or the shotgun you will continue to carry on your back. I also have a lot more ammo for that and in different variants. I’ll walk you through all that later. Just wanted to introduce you to your new friend.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and handed him back the MP5. “Hold onto that for me, I’m about to take some pain killers and pass out. But seriously man thank you so much for the new gun. I appreciate it.” He took it back, giving me a knowing smile.
I nodded at Vic and Kuppers as I passed them on my way to my cot. Once in our room, Brian helped me out of my armor and outer shirt. I took 2 of the little white pills and washed them down with a bottle of water Brian handed me. I think I said thank you or something similar as I laid down on my cot and promptly passed out.
I had no dreams and slept peacefully. I awoke with Brian shaking my uninjured arm. “Have I ever told you it sucks waking up looking at your ugly mug?” I got out, while pushing myself to a sitting position.
“Keep that up and you can put your own shirt and armor on,” he joked.
“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure I said thank you, your highness. The man I wish I could be more like,” I backtracked quickly.
“That’s more like it. Now raise your left arm and straighten it out, or it will become stiff and hurt more,” he explained.
I did as he ordered. He helped me stretch it, then slid my outer shirt on and, lastly, my armor. I only winced twice during the process. I think the medicine was still floating around inside my bloodstream. I looked around and noticed our footlockers had been emptied and our room was bare except for us.
Brian saw my look and answered my unasked question. “Everyone is already packed up and the Beast has been loaded. We have a quick briefing with Colonel Phillips and General Richards before we leave. We decided to let you sleep a little extra. Now come on let’s get moving. Everyone is waiting on you.”
We left our tent and marched over to the Command Tent where the rest of the team was waiting for us. We entered the tent and made our way over to the briefing room. A table set at the back of the room had a spread of food, coffee and juices out. Brian and I both grabbed orange juice and a Danish. We sat with the rest of the team, and talked about our plans to take Highway 1 into Stinson. While there we would find some supplies for Angel. She had on the same clothes and shoes since day one, plus other things she may need.
General Richards and Colonel Phillips walked onto the stage and took their seats. A young Lieutenant took the podium and waited for us to give him our attention. He seemed somewhat nervous to be briefing civilians and not so sure how to commence. “Go ahead, son, kick this briefing off. These fine people need to get moving on.”
The Lieutenant coughed and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, at twenty hundred hours last night, Colonel Phillips came back with a plan for running our drones without using the satellites, which we have not been able to access. Early this morning around 0300 hours, a C-5 Galaxy lifted off from Travis Air Force Base loaded with some powerful antennae and drone communications equipment. We accomplished this by using three Reaper and one Northrop Grumman X-47B, which we were able to borrow from some Northrop technicians who happen to be on base with it. The C-5 crew was able to control all three up to a radial of two hundred and twenty-mile circumference. The Drones were able to pick up more radio traffic and found some police and military units that had been cut off by giant hordes of infected.” He turned and talked to his staff just off stage. “Can we have slide one projected, please?”
The lights dropped slightly and a projector started up and showed a map of central California. The Lieutenant used a laser pointer to highlight areas on the map. “These areas here are mainly where we have been able to contact survivors, whether Military, Police, or regular civilians. This was just a small slice of California. We are hoping to push south to L.A. and San Diego over the next couple of days. After we have covered those areas, we will push on to northern California. We were also able to contact two other airfields, one in southern Nevada, and one in Colorado. We shared with them this technique, and hopefully we can get an idea of how and where to help. Colonel Phillips, would you like to take over the podium and add anything?”
The Colonel yawned, stood, and made his way over to the podium. He made a sign to someone in the back of the room. The slide changed to show an overview of San Francisco. It was almost unrecognizable; the Golden Gate Bridge was the only structure looking undamaged. The only building still recognizable was the damn Trans America Tower. The rest of the city was in ashes and looked like what you’d expect during an apocalypse. “This was San Francisco, about three hours ago. As you can see, most of the city is still on fire and shows heavy damage to numerous neighborhoods. Not many radio signals or much of anything is coming out of the North Bay. I know we had to evacuate Moffett Field. My old squadron, the 129
th
Rescue Wing, was able to take all working aircraft and left over personnel and supplies out to Travis Air Force Base. The next slide is of Oakland and the Bay. By using the X-47B advanced cameras, we have been able to see homemade signs on school buildings and several public buildings asking for help. We are working on bringing helicopters and rescue personnel out to the area to attempt to help them. The only reason I am showing you this is so you are apprised of the ongoing situation. You have some of our communications gear and codes so you can contact us if you run into any survivors or come into contact with the Ridder Group. General, sir, would you like to say something?”
The General slowly got to his feet and made his way off the stage and stood near us. He waved the staff and guards out of the area and motioned the Colonel to come and join him. “I just got off the radio with the Secretary of Defense. She is ordering us to stand down our rescue operations and consolidate our supplies.” After shocking us with this information, he took a seat near me and Kuppers, crossed his legs, and looked back and forth to us.
“General, if you don’t mind me saying, that is fucking ridiculous! She expects you to stop helping people? Seems to me like that is exactly something a member of the Culling Initiative would order. Did she also tell you to work with the Ridder Group? You can’t be telling me you are going to obey those orders?” I barked out.
The General looked right into me for a second and removed a cigar from inside his jacket. He bit the end off and lit it slowly with a wooden match from his jacket pocket. “Well, son, without proper codes the Secretary of Defense cannot countermand a Presidential order. I was ordered to protect as many civilians as I could and to cooperate with other military commands. I found it interesting that someone so high would say what she said. I think we can put her right into the Culling member’s column. I am trusting you with this information since you are the ones who discovered these little treasonous asses. I just want you to know, as long as I have command of these operations, I will do my best to continue rescue operations and consolidate as many military and police forces I can find. But I believe I may be making myself a pretty big target. I will continue to fight to bring other officers into my graces and hopefully they will continue the good work if I am no longer able to.”
“Thank you for your information and bringing us into your trust, sir. If there is anything we can do to help while we are on our mission, sir, just ask and we will do what we can. I think we should be able to share information as we discover it,” Vic spoke up for the first time.
“I was hoping you would say that. I want to use you guys as a forward observation post and possible delivery boys. I have a whole bunch of letters I want you to deliver to every military group you come across out there. Since we will not be heading north for awhile with the drone program, I will be relying on you and your reports.” He motioned to the Colonel to go collect the documents. “There are also official documents in there identifying you all as military personnel with full ranks and privileges. They also have your orders in there to be left alone and given all respect of my office. You now all work for me and are on a classified mission. I left it vague so you could say anything you want. That should help get through a lot of red tape, if you need it.” He stood and offered his hand. “It is a privilege to know all of you.”
“I have to say, General, you are nothing like I thought you would be. It is a pleasure to know you, and now to work for you,” I said while shaking his hand.
Everyone took a turn shaking his hand and having private moments with him. Little Angel even got in on the handshakes, although she climbed up on a chair and hugged him tightly. The General blushed, gave out a loud belly laugh, and hugged her back. “You, little miss, have an important job. Bring them all back, sweetie.” She stepped back and gave him a crisp salute like she had seen other soldiers do. We all burst into laughter, then broke up the meeting.
The Colonel walked us out to the Beast and had a quiet conversation with Kuppers. I walked away so they could have a private moment. We made it to the Beast and climbed aboard. I was presented with a new helmet that had no damage to it, like my last one. I put it on my head and snugged it down. My new MP5 was strapped over my chest armor, and I pointed the barrel toward the floor to rest my injured left arm on it. The shotgun was now resting on a quick release latch near the hatch, my 1911 was secured in its leg holster, and Doc had given me back the Kabar. My Zomgo bag was resting between my legs. Brian sat across from me completely decked out in new BDUs, this time military issued to him, along with armor that actually fit his big Sasquatch ass. He smiled at me and situated his new, bigger modified M4 between his legs barrel down. Little Angel buckled in next to me and fit a helmet over her head that one of the smaller female soldiers gave her. She smiled at me and sighed happily. Apache, Doc, and Vic took their seats in the back. Cupcake took his driver’s position and fired up the big diesel engine. Looked like Kuppers decided he would sit up front now. He was reading through a packet of papers and nodding to himself.
Cupcake navigated the small road up to Highway 1 and turned north. Within fifteen minutes, we entered the town of Stinson. “Hey, Cupcake, look for a clothes store with kid’s clothes. Little Angel would like to do some shopping.” He threw a thumbs up our way and slowed down as he drove around abandoned cars and a military check point that was keeping a watch on the town. Ten minutes after entering the town, Cupcake pulled into a parking lot of a small strip mall. Vic popped the rear hatch and the team, minus Kuppers and Cupcake, disembarked.
Brian, Doc, and Vic took up positions securing the Beast and parking lot. Apache, Angel, and I made our way to a clothing store. As we came to the door, Apache stopped us. “Stay here, the store has not yet been secured. I’ll go in and make sure it’s safe for Angel.” Apache tried the door first and found it locked. She kneeled down in front of it, removed a small tool set out of one of her many pockets, and picked the lock. She was fast and efficient. I guessed that was a skill set she needed while working in SWAT.
She entered the store and closed the door. She stood there for a minute, not moving, just standing still listening. She removed her handgun from her leg holster and walked around the store. She disappeared from sight, and all was silent. A couple of minutes later, three loud bangs shattered the silence coming from the store. I grabbed Angel and moved her behind me. Instead of the 1911 in my leg holster, I actually pulled one of my steel batons and had it at full extension. We stood that way till the door opened and Apache popped her head out. “All’s good, but the place smells a little. One more thing. Make sure Angel does not go in the back stock room. Ok?”
I collapsed my baton on the concrete and holstered it. I took Angel’s hand and we made our way in. We walked over to the kid section and little Angel started going through pants and shirts to find what fit her best. Apache came back with a bunch of shopping bags. She put them on the floor and then disappeared into another section. Angel already took five pairs of pants and put them aside. She went through a section of long sleeve shirts and sweaters. I sat down and started folding everything she brought out and started packing them into the shopping bags. We had five bags full of pants, shirts, and sweaters. Apache came up and took one of the bags, filling it up with five packs of underwear for Angel. “Could you help me in the changing room Apache?” Little Angel asked, clearly embarrassed.
“Of course, kiddo.” Apache reached in and removed one of those packages of undies and joined Angel in one of the changing rooms. In the back of the store, I found a shoe rack and went through it. I found a nice pair of tennis shoes and a pair of western boots I thought would fit Angel. I also grabbed a couple of packs of kids’ socks and made my way back to my former seat and waited.
Angel and Apache came out of the back and I almost didn’t recognize Angel. She was out of her dirty dress and now wearing tan cargo pants and a button-up western shirt. Apache had combed out and braided Angel’s hair to look just like hers. I handed Angel some socks and her new pair of boots, which she promptly put on. “I’m going to go grab some underwear for me, and I guess, I should grab some for the guys too,” Apache informed me and walked away.