Apocalypse Aftermath (16 page)

He was prepared for that to draw a stronger reaction, and he was not disappointed.  It was obvious the thought of venturing out in the newly changed world was terrifying for more than a few of them, but he
was
surprised by the number that seemed almost stoically accepting of the concept.

“Only four?” one of the younger men asked, a fellow who looked to be in pretty good shape, and tanned from sun exposure.

“Four should be enough.” Peter nodded.  “No one has to go, but four would be a help, and is all I feel comfortable taking right now.  I’m not planning on looking to get into a big battle against a crowd of zombies, but I expect there will be some shooting no matter where we go.  Four people who can carry and load supplies will ensure my people can focus on security so we all get back quicker and safer.”

“I’ll go.” the tanned one said.

“Yeah, count me in too.”

A handful of others volunteered, and Peter eyed them swiftly before making his decisions.  The four he pointed out were the ones who looked the most steady, which seemed to confuse one who appeared to be a construction or warehouse worker
who wasn’t picked, but no one complained over the choices.

“You four make sure you’re not scheduled for watch tonight, and get some sleep.  Don’t sit up worrying or I’ll bench you come morning.  I need people who’re rested and alert.”

“So we’re going to stay here until things settle down?” a woman asked.

“Yeah, is that why we’re stocking up?  So we can just ride this thing out?”

Peter raised his arms again.  “That’s a fair question, and I wish I had a great answer, but unfortunately we’re stuck here the same as you.  Information about what we’re dealing with is sketchy at best.  I suppose now would be a good time to ask if anyone has something you think the rest of us haven’t heard about.”

“Like what?”

“Like any sort of relief effort or secure evacuation plans anywhere within a couple of days’ travel.” Peter clarified.

A beefy older man spoke up.  “How would we know more than you would?”

Peter spoke quickly as he saw and heard a bit of agreement with that statement starting.  “Listen, wait a minute.  My people and I were deployed into Atlanta Friday night, and spent the next twenty-four hours cut off and fighting for our lives.  A lot of those who deployed in with us died in that fighting.  Since we got out, we’ve seen and heard nothing but devastation.  None of the military bases we’ve visited or contacted are intact or operating.  TV and radio have been intermittent and full of rumor more than anything.

“What I’m asking about though is maybe someone here has a friend or family member who works for the government or the military, or a news service, or anything that put them in a position to have a better idea what’s been happening.  If so, they might have passed something along to you before you lost contact, something that could help.”

He looked around as expressions grew thoughtful and the civilians fell silent.  “Anything like that?  Anything you think might be worth mentioning?”

“I’ve got family in Macon, my sister and her husband and kids.” a man ventured after a few moments.  “She was a DOT worker who was called in to help monitor the roads as everything started going to hell.  Last time I talked with her, she said something about the DOT Commissioner trying to get people shifted over toward Eatonton to help with setting up some emergency shelters.  But that was Saturday, about three in the morning.  I don’t know if anything came of it.”

“Macon is as bad as Atlanta last I heard.” someone in the back of the crowd mentioned.

Peter agreed.  Mendez had gathered that much from the satellite internet connection the unit had managed to get hold of before breaking out of the zombie hellhole in Atlanta; none of the state’s major cities were intact.

“I’m a dispatcher for a trucking company.” another woman spoke up.  “My boss tried to get me to come back in.  Said he needed help coordinating deliveries for FEMA.”

“Did he say where?” Peter asked.

“Said there were a bunch of places all over, but I remember he mentioned Buford and Cumming.”

“My son works for a construction firm, a big one.” a middle aged woman offered.  “He’s been on a project out past Athens.  When he called me Saturday, he said he was headed to Washington with the rest of the crews to work on an emergency project for the State.”

“Washington DC?” someone asked.

“No, Washington
, Georgia.  He said it was way out on 78 between Athens and Augusta.”

“My dad’s an adjunct teacher at UGA.  Athens was falling fast by Friday night.  He was trapped in one of the classrooms with a few other students.  The call was cut off and I couldn’t get another to go through when I tried calling back.  But he said zombies were everywhere in town, especially all over the campus.” a pasty white man with a gut said sadly.

“My brother was a maintenance contractor at Fort Gordon near Augusta.” another man offered.  “He said just about everyone on the base was activated and deployed Friday, including a lot of local reservists that were called in.  Then when I talked to him Saturday morning he said all the soldiers who’d been left to cover the base had become zombies and that’s when he left.  He wanted me to try and meet up with him at our parents’ house in Dahlonega, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with him or them since.”

Peter listened as others related similar stories, but none of the details given seemed to indicate any sort of organized safe point closer than the list of FEMA sites he already had marked down.  He hadn’t been holding his breath, but something closer might have been nice.  But he let everyone share whatever they were willing to talk about until finally the accounts trickled off and ended.

“Okay, so things are bad all over.  We’re all dealing with a lot of scary things, a lot of grief, but unfortunately it doesn’t sound like anyone’s got a line on something closer than what I’ve already got in mind.” Peter told the crowd.

“So what’s the plan then?”

“Where are we going to go?”

“We’ve got a list of places where FEMA camps are supposed to be operating.” Peter said when he could edge in between the eager queries.  “That’s how we ended up stumbling across you folks earlier.  The closest one is in Cumming.”

“Another FEMA camp?”

“Oh please, you’re kidding, right?”

“No way man.”

It took a couple of minutes to get the dissention and questions calmed down enough for Peter to have a chance to speak.  Most of the civilians, all of whom had survived the eruption of the Cartersville FEMA camp outbreak, were less than reassured that he proposed heading for
another
FEMA site to try again.  As the initial wave of outbursts finally slowed and lost steam, he managed to draw everyone’s attention back to him again.

“I’m not saying it isn’t a risk, but at this point
anything
is a risk.  Including staying here.”

“What’s wrong with staying here?”

“Why couldn’t we just look for a town somewhere that isn’t overrun?”

“Anything is a risk.” Peter repeated loudly.  “Staying here could see a couple thousand zombies, or more, show up at any time.  The same goes for any town or other location we might go to
, no matter how big or small.  There could be hordes overrunning it right now that we’d just be headed into.  The roads here or there or anywhere could be blocked off and swarming with zombies.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”

Peter looked at the speaker of the last question, a short woman with an angry expression.  “There’s no easy way to say this, but here goes.  Even if every one of you turns out to be handy with a gun and willing to enlist with my squad, there’s no way we can do something like save the world.  Or even the state.  The fact is we’re all refugees.  The
only option we have, regardless of if we work together or split up into smaller groups, is to just try to survive this thing.”

“So you’re giving up?” the woman demanded.

“My plan is to
survive
.” Peter said, stressing the word carefully.  “Beyond that goal, I’m hoping to eventually find somewhere that’s not only safe, but is still under proper control by state or federal leadership.  Any sort of resolution to the zombie problem is going to need that level of leadership or nothing’s going to get any better.  For anyone.”

“Fuck that.”

“Yeah, the government hasn’t done a whole lot so far.”

“Hell, the military just made things worse when all the soldiers turned into zombies.”

“Not all of them” someone objected.

“Enough to fuck the rest of us.” came a retort.  Others voiced agreement with that sentiment, which Peter honestly couldn’t fault.  Over half the losses
in Atlanta on Friday night had come from spontaneous ‘conversions’ of Guardsmen and women into zombies.  A lot of those had taken a non-zombie soldier with them before they were dealt with, and usually the newly hungry zombie or zombies had appeared just in time to complicate things for the still human soldiers.

Peter looked around, keeping his expression impassive only with effort and his decades of experience.  He honestly couldn’t blame the reactions being expressed, even if he also felt none of them were helping.  He was feeling the same things a little himself.  He’d never, not ever, been so cutoff.

There was always a chain-of-command, a level of structure and control that he and every one of his fellow Marines could turn to and lean on.  Even in the worst spots in the world, like third world scrub country or following some major natural disaster, he and his fellow Marines had
always
had contact with the rest of the military, at least.  Having all traces of anything remotely resembling contact, beyond those people with him, removed left him feeling more than a little unsure, despite his determination to put a brave foot forward.

But he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Look, I asked, and I’ll ask again, if anyone knows something that might help.” Peter said when the accusations quieted once more.  “We’re all stuck here, and I promise you there’s nothing I’m holding back.”

“You’ve got radios.” someone half-shouted.  “What about that?”

“They’re tactical radios.” Peter shook his head.  “The range is only a few miles without a repeater.  And even when our units still had the repeaters in the vehicles, we weren’t getting anything.  None of the military bases around Atlanta responded to us when we tried to reach them.  And we physically checked the National Guard base in Marietta; it was overrun, like I said.”

The two Humvees they’d liberated from Clay in Marietta did not have installed radios, and he was beginning to regret more and more not having looked around to try and find some.  He knew how to connect them, and their absence was starting to complicate his
plans.  Nor had he thought to grab off any backpack units, which – while heavy – were designed specifically to keep detached units in contact over larger distances.

“So we’re fucked.”

Peter shrugged, slowly, almost unwillingly.  “That’s not exactly how I’d put it, but sure, if you like, yeah.”

“We can’t just sit here and wait to die.”

“If we go out on the roads that’s just as bad.”

“Well what’s your idea then?”

“Look asshole—” the man said hotly, glaring through the crowd at the man he was arguing with.

Several gunshots rang out from the back of the crowd, on the edge of the north side of the walkway.  Peter whipped his head around to see Whitley with the pistol she’d added to her belt earlier in her hand and smoking.  She lowered it from the upward angle that pointed out across the parking lot when she seemed sure she had everyone’s attention.

“Arguing and bickering doesn’t help anyone.” the woman said loudly.  “The gunny already told you the situation is fucked up, and you’ve had several chances to offer something that’ll help make it better.  I’d think you people, out of probably a lot who might still be alive anywhere near here, would know how fucked things are.  I mean, we found you trapped and surrounded by zombies for Christ’s sake.”

“Corporal Whitley is right.”
Bennett Burns spoke up for the first time in the meeting.  “Gunny Gibson and his people risked their lives to save all of us.  And they’re proposing to risk them again tomorrow to go and bring back food and other supplies that we need even more than they do.”

“Yeah but—” someone started to say.

“But nothing.” Burns broke in, raising his voice.  “Arguing about what to do is a waste of time.  The only rule here if you stay is to work with the soldiers who are protecting us.  No one has to stay, and if the gunny decides to move out and is willing to take us with him, no one has to join up; but if you do stay or stick with them, then all you have to do is stay calm and not make things worse.  Is that really such a hard thing to ask?”

“We’re all scared.” Peter said, stepping in quickly before anyone else could.  “And trust me, I know how hard it is to make decisions when you’re scared.  I’m not singling anyone out.  I’m scared, my people are scared, you’re scared; we’re
all
scared.  The things that are happening . . . anyone who tells you they’re not scared is fucking lying to you.  Or is a damn fool, because this shit is fucked up.