in
their way and were rampaging through central Asia, conquering all the gold mines
and oil fields in Eastern Siberia. Their cyber attack on the US military command
and control on the second week of the plague had wrecked our nuclear response
forces, disabled every launcher we had. They sat back and took on anyone who
argued with them. They had landed forces in Central America after the US Navy
had pulled out of Hawai’i to reinforce the Pacific Northwest and had actually
started building a wall across Panama to keep Zs out of the Canal. Then the
plague broke out in Europe after a refugee ship from Mexico crashed ashore in
France, Europe went to hell and China started slaughtering anyone who
came near their borders. Then, a few weeks after that, all of the sudden China
fell off the air.
“So check it out. This guy, he’s a C-130 pilot now, but before, he flew B-2
bombers. No shit, they loaded up a whole crate of zombies on, like, a dozen
B-2, stealthed their way through Chinese radar and just air-dropped them over
the biggest cities. He said he almost got shot down `cause he had to go low and
slow, bay doors open while the Zs went dropping out of the bomb racks. They dropped
‘em right in the rivers with water-soluble ropes around them. One, two days
later, a couple of Zs drag themselves out of the river and start biting the
shit out of the little yellow fuckers. Instant chaos! Recon flights say the
whole place is a massive battleground now.”
“Damn, man, that some dirty shit,” said Jonesy, then laughed so hard his gold
teeth showed. Frigging gangbanger would laugh at something like that.
“That just doesn’t seem right. I mean, that’s a crime against humanity.” The
Engineer contractor spoke up through his heavy breathing, sweat pouring down
his face.
“Man, that ain’t no different shit than them chinks
dropping nukes on all them cities just because America was down and out, and
not watchin’ over everyone else no mo’. Just like back in the `hood, you get a
chance to kick your enemy, you go do it.”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem, right.”
“ Sheeeyit , Socrates, it’s just the way of the
world. People been fightin’ forever, and unlike your lily-white, suburb livin’
ass, I seen it my whole life.”
Conversations like this took up most of the march. We were soldiers, and it’s
what soldiers do, telling stories and talking smack to each other. We broke for
lunch at noon, out in the middle of a field with good observation. Three on
watch, three eating. The Engineer didn’t count. He was there for a job only,
and he knew it. The six of us were a team and he wasn’t on it. The smoke from
MRE heaters soon rose above the circle, and I sat back on a rock to enjoy the
spring sunshine, to casually assess everyone in the group.
Brit, eyeing the Engineer like he was a piece of fresh meat, wondering if he
was worth anything in the sack. She stood guard but would glance back at him
every now and then. Ahmed, cleaning his weapons like he did every stop. Legacy
of living in that dust-ridden shithole they called the Middle East. Jonesy,
picking his nose and flinging it at Ahmed, trying, and failing, to piss him off.
Doc Hamilton, that big bald ex-biker who was our medic,stood with his back to me, watching towards the river. Syzmanski, the
newest guy, who had shown up at the river fort one day a month ago on the run
from the FEMA camp outside Albany. We didn’t ask what he did to get him on the
run and he never told us.
After twenty minutes the guards switched out and I stood to take my turn. After
a few minutes of watching the road, I heard a blood-curdling shriek erupt from inside the perimeter. As I turned back toward the sound, the Engineer dude came
tearing past me, pants hanging low, half of a zombie kid holding on for dear
life trying to chew a chunk out of his ass. I stood open-mouthed as he ran
past. He was trying to knock the thing off him with an unfolded E-tool,
probably the