These Dead Lands: Immolation (45 page)

It was nightfall
before Hastings, Ballantine, and Guerra headed back to the barracks. They were tired, dirty, and basically plain worn out, but Hastings was happy to see things were still pretty much normal around the Gap. During their after-action report session, he had received word that the trains had been recovered and secured at the Gap’s water reclamation plant, and a team of soldiers and Guardsmen were already off-loading the containers. In the far distance, Hastings heard the sounds of machinery operating.

“Cranes,” Ballantine said, apparently noticing Hastings’s expression. “They’re transferring the first batch of containers to the lowboys.”

“That’s a lot of noise,” Hastings said. “They have enough security?”

Ballantine nodded. “Yeah, one of Victor’s boys from the One-Oh-One has an entire company up there. Plus, there are the mulchers,” Ballantine added, referring the large excavator machines that were so effective at dealing with the dead.

“Are Chan and his MPs in charge up there?”

“Another captain, sir. Guy named Vogler,” he said. “He was heading up OP Two before. Not sure if the two of you managed to touch base or not.”

“I hadn’t.”

“Seems pretty with it, given that he’s just a lowly air assault kinda guy,” Ballantine said. “I figure if he was with Victor in Philly, then they’ve probably seen some shit and know what’s headed our way.”

The plan was for the CONEXes to be off-loaded from the railcars and deposited on lowboys for their transportation to various choke points around Indiantown Gap. Over the coming days, there would be multiple ongoing operations centered on placing the containers then fortifying them so they could not only withstand mass attacks from the dead but also act as firebases from which counter-operations could be launched. On their way in, the lightfighters had seen plenty of evidence that some folks were still alive out there hiding inside heavily fortified farmhouses, and Guerra’s report about being engaged by Jehovah’s Witnesses, of all things, told them that people who would eventually need the Army’s help. And on top of that, there were still legions of the dead that had to be killed.
Or re-killed, as the case might be
.

Hastings grunted. “Well, it can’t be that tough to off-load the containers. Hope you guys can get some decent rest. The next week or so is going to be full of a lot of work.”

“Born for it, sir,” Guerra said.

Ballantine snorted. “Since when did
you
become a kiss-ass, Guerra?”

“Since the world ended.”

Hastings shook his head. “Just keep leaning forward in the foxhole.”

They arrived at the door to the barracks, and as Ballantine reached for the knob, Hastings heard a ruckus brewing inside. Ballantine glanced back at him and Guerra then yanked the door open. Kenny’s shrieking assaulted their ears as they surged inside.

There were several new people in the barracks, all civilians. One huge man with a bald head and dark mutton chop beard was being faced down by Diana. The guy was simply
gigantic
, maybe six foot six, bigger than even Ballantine. He wore a bemused expression as he looked down at Diana, his thick arms crossed over his barrel chest. Diana appeared as tight as a coiled spring, ready to unload on the big man.

The rest of the civilians were keeping a fair distance away, watching the proceedings with interest. Reader, Tharinger, Hartman, and Stilley surrounded the pair, obviously trying to defuse the situation. Kay Ballantine stood behind Diana, and she looked worked up, as well. Josh and Curtis were perched on one of the top bunks, eyes wide. Hastings looked over at Kenny was still squealing and was surprised to see Master Sergeant Slater restraining the boy. Slater had wrapped the kid up in a blanket and seemed to be talking to him, but his voice couldn’t be heard over the racket.

“What the hell is going on here?” Hastings shouted as he pushed past Ballantine. He pointed at Diana and the big man. “You two, knock that shit off right now!”

The big man with the mutton chops stepped back, raising his hands. “Hey, I’m good.”

“This guy’s a fucking
prick
!” Diana yelled, jabbing at the man.

“Hey, let’s watch the language,” Hartman said, glancing up at Josh and Curtis.

The big man said, “How the fuck was I supposed to know the retard would flip out, you crazy fucking bitch?”

Hastings didn’t like the guy’s attitude or that he had ignored the command. He also didn’t like the fact that his soldiers were just standing around and wringing their hands while a situation was blowing up right in their faces. He charged toward the big man and slammed his hands into his chest, knocking the guy back against one of the bunks.

“Hey!” The huge man pinwheeled his arms as he stumbled off balance.

The rest of the civilians released a collective gasp.

Hastings ignored them as he grabbed a fistful of the man’s denim work shirt. “What part of ‘knock that shit off right now’ did you
not
understand?”

The big man glared down at Hastings from his six-inch advantage. He obviously wasn’t used to being physically challenged. The shocked expression disappeared as his face clouded with anger. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he said, straightening.

That got the rest of soldiers sufficiently energized, and the man suddenly found himself surrounded by six more lightfighters.

“He’s the guy who can order us to smoke your ass, pal,” Ballantine said, getting right in the man’s face. “You
will
stop doing everything and stand there like a store dummy, or you’re going to get one hell of a beat down.”

“Might get one anyway,” Guerra added.

The big man raised his hands. “Okay, guys. Okay.” He looked past Ballantine, and his brow furrowed. “Jesus, boss, are you getting ready to
shoot
me?”

Hastings turned and saw Reader standing just behind the group, M4 in his hands, stock tucked into his armpit. Reader’s blue eyes were hard and flinty.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Reader said.

Hastings released the big man and looked around. “All right, what happened here?”

Diana pointed an accusatory finger at the big man. “This hairy fu—” She stopped and glanced up at Curtis and Josh. “This
jerk
ate all of Kenny’s cheese. When Kenny tried to take some back, he pushed him away and called him a stupid retard. Kenny had a meltdown.”

“And where were you?” Hastings asked.

Diana put on an offended expression. “I was in the bathroom changing my tampon, General.”

Hastings heard Curtis whisper to Josh, “What’s a tampon?”

“I think it’s a gun,” Josh whispered back.

“Oh,” Hastings said, trying not to smile. He turned back to the big man. “So you called Kenny a retard and ate his food?”

“No,” the big man said. “First, I ate his food,
then
I called him a retard. And I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know the kid had problems, and I didn’t know he only ate jalapeño cheese and crackers. I thought he was just being a brat when he came at me and tried to take the stuff away from me.”

“So what you’re telling us is that you’re the kind of guy who’d take candy from a baby,” Ballantine said. He looked at Hastings. “Diana’s right. This guy
is
an asshole.”

“Damn straight!” Diana said.

“Look, I didn’t know!” the man said.

“All right, here’s the deal.” Hastings looked around the room, making eye contact with each of the dozen or so newcomers. “Kenny’s autistic. He lost his family, and he’s hooked up with us. You guys give him a wide berth, or we’re going to have a tough time getting along. Now, who’s in charge of you people?”

All eyes swung to the rear of the barracks, where Slater sat with Kenny. The boy was winding down, and Slater had wrapped him tightly in the blanket. Kenny wasn’t struggling against him any longer, but he still made plaintive, helpless sounds. Slater continued talking to him in a low voice.

“What are you doing to that kid?” Diana snapped, stepping in that direction.

Hastings grabbed her arm. “Hey, hold up for a bit. Looks like the master sergeant might have this under control.”

Diana twisted, trying to get away from him. “I don’t—”

“Diana,” Hastings said, “give it a chance.”

“It’s okay, sir,” Slater said. “Let her come over. They boy’s calming down.”

Hastings released Diana, and she walked over to where Slater sat with Kenny—but not before turning back and giving the big man with the mutton chops the stink eye. Hastings snorted at that. At just over five feet tall, she wouldn’t have much of a chance against the big guy, but she was so full of piss and vinegar that she probably didn’t even care.

Hastings turned back to the big man, who was still surrounded by the troops. “Okay, guys. Let him loose.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at Reader. “Secure that weapon, Reader.”

“Safety is on, sir,” Reader said, relaxing a bit.

The big man looked embarrassed. “Listen, I’m really sorry about this.”

“Why did you take the kid’s food?” Hastings asked.

“I didn’t
know
it was his food,” the man said. “I saw the boxes of chow, and I just dived in. I like jalapeño, so I thought I’d have some. I didn’t realize it was reserved for re—” The man caught himself and cleared his throat. “For… for
special
kids.”

Hastings walked up on him again. “You might be in severe need of an attitude adjustment. Who are you?”

“His name’s Walker, sir,” Slater offered, strolling over to them. Diana had taken over Kenny Control. “He’s as big as an ox, but don’t let that fool you. He’s not nearly as smart. Isn’t that right, Walker?”

Walker said nothing. He just looked down at the floor.

“Truth is, he’s a bully and probably always has been,” Slater continued. “He’s also a bit of a pussy. You stand up to him, he steps back. The only reason he was giving your Asian lady friend there a tough time is because she’s tiny. Ain’t that right, Walker?” Slater paused, but when Walker did nothing more than shrug, he went on. “No one really likes him, but he’s big and strong, and he can bust open a reeker’s head with a baseball bat with one shot. His only redeeming quality.”

“You work at the naval facility, Walker?” Hastings asked.

“He did not,” Slater answered. “He was a truck driver, making a water delivery. His truck broke down, and before he could catch a ride out of there, the facility was under attack.”

“And that’s when you found him, Sergeant?” Hastings asked.

“More or less, Captain. More or less.”

“So why did you keep him?”

“Like I said, sir. He’s pretty good with a baseball bat. But also, I needed someone I could sacrifice real quick if I needed to.”

Walker jerked his head up. “What?”

Slater nodded. “Afraid so, Mister Walker. You were the designated sacrifice. If the reekers broke in and we needed to get out, you were the one I was going to leave behind. Want to know how I was going to do it? I’d hobble you so you’d fall behind. Slash one of your Achilles’ tendons. The reekers, they love a slow-moving meal, so—”

“Are you
kidding
me?” Walker asked.

“Yeah, okay,” Hastings said. “Thanks, Sergeant. Let’s all go to our neutral corners, all right?”

Slater chucked while looking up at Walker. “I never liked bullies too much, Mister Walker. And I’d imagine no one else does, either, so you might want to look into investing in some self-improvement.”

Walker just stared at Slater, obviously unsure of what to say.

Hastings gave the bigger man a little push in the right direction. “Go sit with the rest of your people. We’ll make formal introductions after my team here syncs up with Slater.”

Walker beat feet, joining the new detachment of civilians camped out near the front of the barracks. Everything was winding down, and the drama was over, but Hastings could read the resentment on the faces of the newcomers. Some were directed at Hastings and his men, but most were oriented toward Walker. The guy really didn’t seem to have much of a fan club.

Hastings turned back to Slater. “Good to see you again, Slater.”

Slater smiled thinly. “I guess it’s good to be seen. Looks like you guys have yourself a sweet setup here, sir.” He pointed at the ceiling, where the paint was peeling around the pipes and lighting fixtures. “Kind of a fixer-upper, though.”

“Can’t be choosy about the accommodations during the zombie apocalypse. You’re in charge of these people?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the cluster of civilians behind them.

Slater nodded. “Only by default, sir. They were doing mostly okay when I arrived at the facility, but that changed pretty quickly.”

“How did you wind up with them?” Hastings asked.

“I needed a place to bed down for a while. I wasn’t abandoning my mission, which was to get back to Bragg, but I needed to rest and reconstitute a bit. I figured the Gap would’ve been overrun already, and I was aware of the facility’s existence from previous work, so I checked it out. I was surprised to see it was still intact, so I went over the fence and found my way inside.” Slater pointed at Walker. “That guy there tried to kill me, but like I said before, he’s a pussy. Wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, though I sometimes wonder why I didn’t just deep six him and call it a day.”

“It’s probably for the best to avoid killing the living, if possible,” Hastings said. “After all, there might not be so many of us left. I guess the command group put you guys here?”

Slater gave him that oddly blank expression. “Yes, sir. We didn’t just arbitrarily decide to enter this barrack unit by ourselves. We were directed here by some Nasty Girl types. I guess they want to try to keep all the new arrivals in one place for a while.”

“You go through decon, Sergeant?” Ballantine asked.

“Hell, yes. See these?” Slater tugged on the collar of his clean Army Combat Uniform. “It kills me to have to wear a set of ACUs after styling in multicam for the past few years. About the only place this uniform could provide camouflage is on a dot-matrix battlefield.”

Hastings snorted. “Thankfully, the current combatant force doesn’t really seem to care much for style cues.”