Transformation: Zombie Crusade VI (35 page)

“I just sent a little over two squads—twenty-six troops, all of them veterans who fought the Battle of Vicksburg, to add to the oversized platoon of infantry that went with the first round of mechanics and support personnel.”

Jack suddenly squared his shoulders, and everyone knew he’d made an important decision. “I have to play general again; I need you to turn over all combat forces currently at the depot to my command right now. We can take fifty DPVs and maybe a dozen backups loaded with fuel. Every vehicle we take needs to have the optional fuel bladder hooked up and filled.”

Carter didn’t need to be told where they were headed. “Hot damn,” he exclaimed, “we’re goin to Utah!”

The Utah military command maintained a series of five observation posts along the interstate south of St. George. The far western installation sat near the intersection of Highway 169 and I-15, about forty miles from Las Vegas. A small garrison of twelve soldiers occupied the former site of a Nevada Highway Patrol sub-station. The best thing about the location was the stout fence surrounding the buildings; the worst thing was that the perimeter was far too large for such a small unit to safely defend. The reality was that they didn’t even try. Most days, they even left the gate to the facility open. All of the soldiers were very surprised one chilly morning when a semi-truck pulled right into the station and proceeded to back up toward the closed bay-doors, but if any of them were frightened by the unexpected arrival they kept their fears to themselves. The rig had approached from the west, which should have made alarm bells ring throughout the observation post. The men
were
concerned, but they were also curious. After the radio-man on duty tried, and failed, to transmit a message reporting the unknown truck’s presence, he joined the rest of his squad outside. The troops were mystified at the driver’s behavior, as the man sat blowing the extremely loud horn while ignoring their requests to step out of the cab. Finally, the driver smiled and waved as he removed his hand from the horn and reached forward to pull a lever just below the steering wheel. The doors of the large trailer opened.

The soldier closest to the rear of the rig stepped back a few paces in order to gain a better angle with which to view what might be inside the trailer. The standard military sword he carried was safely sheathed at his belt, but his shotgun was drawn and ready, though everything happened so fast that he didn’t have time to pull the trigger. The man didn’t even scream until he was on the ground, trampled under the feet of the first of thirty starving hunters that came howling from the dark cargo-hold in search of fresh meat. Only two other soldiers carried shotguns, and one of them managed to empty five shells full of buckshot into the furious flesh-eaters before he also went down. The slaughter was over in less than thirty seconds. The corpses of twelve men and three hunters lay broken on the cold desert ground, before the monsters turned their attention from killing to eating. The driver had already closed the trailer doors and pulled away from the scene—he comforted himself with the ancient excuse: he was only following orders. As he headed back toward the west he watched a truck just like his pass by in the eastbound lane. He counted three more semis before he reached Las Vegas . . . 

Luke rode shotgun in the scout Hummer across the bleak terrain just east of Hurricane, where 59 split into Highway 9, which led directly to I-15. As they reached the outskirts of town, the difference between Hurricane and Hildale was immediately obvious: Hurricane had been cleaned up. The scars of the collapse were everywhere in town, especially obvious in the mounds of rubble and the burnt areas, but the main roads were open and some homes were clearly inhabited. What gave the town an eerie feel was the complete absence of humans. This part of Utah was definitely a frontier region, but a lot of post-collapse work had obviously been put into the town, yet nobody was here. Luke’s driver had slowed the Hummer to a crawl in spite of the open roads. He finally whispered, “Sir, I don’t like this place.”

“Just keep your eyes open and be ready for anything.”

The last words had scarcely left Luke’s mouth as they rounded a corner and saw a blue Jeep parked less than two hundred meters ahead, smack-dab in the middle of the intersection with Highway 9. Three soldiers wearing the familiar uniforms of the Utah infantry were fiddling with a large antenna, apparently trying to attach it to the roof of their vehicle.

One of the soldiers reached into the open passenger door, pulled out what was obviously some sort of assault rifle, and aimed it at the approaching Hummer.

“Just stop right here,” Luke calmly commanded. “Everyone stay put while I tell these folks who we are.” He slowly climbed out of the vehicle and put his hands in the air.

A fourth soldier, probably the driver, exited the Jeep with a gun in hand, but he didn’t actually point it in Luke’s direction. The Utah troops appeared nervous as Luke called out to the strangers, “I’m Luke Seifert, officer with the Allied Resistance.”

When the men in the distance didn’t reply, he continued. “General Carlson is my good friend, and my father is General Jack Smith from Fort Wayne—he and Hiram Anderson sent a lot of grain this way last fall.”

Finally, a tall soldier who held no weapon began walking toward the Hummer while his comrades kept him covered. “I’m Sergeant Olsen of the 1
st
Battalion of the 1
st
Utah Division; last time I saw you was when I turned to run from the Pickwick Dam. You were still on top of that semi-trailer holdin’ the flesh-eaters off us.”

Luke grinned and asked, “Can I lower my hands?”

The sergeant smiled. “I recognize you; and yeah, you can lower your hands.” He turned to the men behind him. “It’s cool—I know this guy.”

Luke offered his hand to the burly sergeant. “The 1
st
Utah became legendary at Pickwick; it was my honor to fight with you guys.”

The soldier warmly shook Luke’s hand. “Things sure went to hell in a handcart there at the end. I’d just rotated to the rear of the phalanx when the retreat was called; most of the boys up front didn’t make it.”

“I’m glad you did, Sergeant Olsen. Can you tell me why this place is deserted? Where are the people from this town?”

Olsen frowned, and there was an edge to his voice when he answered, “General Carlson ordered a statewide evacuation three hours ago; all of our observation posts to the southwest went silent this morning.”

Luke looked confused. “Evacuation?”

“Yeah, we herd everyone into the valleys beyond the Wasatch and block the passes. That’s the plan, anyway. Things seemed to be moving just fine as we drove down here to try to find out what’s going on.”

“So, what have you found out?”

“Only that our stinking radio isn’t working.”

Luke took another look at the big antenna. “Is it not working, or are you just not getting through.”

“Hard to say. We can’t transmit or pick up anything. Our best guess is that we’re being jammed.”

Luke took off his sunglasses and the sergeant jumped back. Luke ignored his reaction. “That’s probably why you guys lost contact with your outposts. Is everything else normal?”

“Well, an evacuation sure isn’t normal--the whole state’s a big ball of confusion. I don’t know if anybody really knows what’s going on. Frankly, there could be alien-elephants dropping on Salt Lake right now, and I wouldn’t know anything about it with the damn radio out.”

“Even if your transmission problem clears up, I don’t think you should use your radios.” Luke only needed a few seconds to formulate a plan. “I’ve got an armored battalion not too far from here, and with your permission, I’d like to bring them in to provide some back-up for you guys, maybe help support the evacuation in some way.”

“Back-up from Luke Seifert and an armored battalion?” Sergeant Olsen sounded excited and grateful. “We’d be honored, sir.”

CHAPTER 29

Luke took Gracie aside to give her a personal run-down of their latest assignments. “Gracie, Sergeant Olsen and his soldiers have confirmed what Zach suspected from studying his maps: the Quail Creek Reservoir does help create a chokepoint on I-15. I want you to lead the battalion to the reservoir, survey the area, and establish a defensive line across the highway. I’ll continue to the southwest with Sergeant Olsen and most of his crew; I’ll need to keep your Hummer and scouts too. One of the First Utah soldiers will stay here, and I want you to hook him up with a Hummer and one of our guys so they can drive north and let General Carlson know what we’re doing.”

Gracie didn’t like the idea of being separated from Luke at this point. “Slow down for a second. Where are you going, why are you going there, and when will you rejoin the battalion?”

“I have a bad feeling about the radios not working and the complete silence to the west—that’s where I’m going, to see why the observation posts along I-15 have gone quiet. I don’t know when I’ll return for sure; I guess as soon as we find out what’s going on between here and Las Vegas.”

“But what about commanding the Black Battalion? Isn’t that why we’re all here—isn’t that why we built this army?”

“Look, if there’s a battle to be fought it isn’t going to matter if I’m there or not; it will be a slugfest. You, Zach, and Maddy, plus Wyatt and Logan, are perfectly capable of managing things until I get back.” Luke wanted Gracie’s support, and he knew he was doing a poor job of explaining his motivations. “Babe, we’ve travelled half the continent because I ‘felt’ like I was supposed to be out here. This is it, this is the moment; I have to get out there, now.”

Gracie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead before replying. Luke had a habit of running off on his own, but this time was different. “Okay, we do know what to do, and we’ll do it. Don’t worry about us back here, but please, be careful. I’ve got a bad feeling of my own about all this.”

Luke’s first objective was to investigate the observation post at the Utah Port of Entry just north of the Arizona state line. The two-vehicle convoy for this mission consisted of Luke with the scouts in the Hummer and Olsen’s crew close behind in their Jeep. They passed through an abandoned St. George, once one of the largest towns in Utah. They continued on Highway 9 to the Junction with I-15, encountering little more than the ominous signs of a hasty evacuation.  The port wasn’t far from St. George, in fact, they arrived at the location less than thirty minutes after splitting from the Black Battalion.

The carnage at the post was obvious as they pulled into the parking lot. Luke jumped out of the Hummer, silently warning the others to remain in the vehicles while he checked out the scene. Three dead hunters lay on the pavement with apparent bullet wounds in their skulls. They were the only corpses easily identified as such. Just beyond the bodies of the flesh-eaters, the surface of the lot looked like a bomb had exploded in the midst of a crowd of humans. Numerous, fresh blood-stains were visible amid the scattered bones and shredded clothing. Luke didn’t sense any large packs in the area; the monsters that committed this atrocity were long-gone.

Luke waved Sergeant Olsen forward to join him. The young, but experienced soldier was stunned and sickened by what he saw. “I didn’t think there was a pack big enough to do something like this east of the Vegas suburbs. I mean, there had to be dozens of ‘em.” Olsen turned his face away from the grisly scene.

“There were dozens of them,” Luke agreed, “but I’m sure if your troops had known that they would have fought from within the building. I assume that all of your observation posts are well fortified?”

“Sure are,” Olsen explained. “All of our sites were constructed when there were still big packs around. Our scouts are trained to hunker down and call for help, not come outside and fight it out against overwhelming numbers.”

“We need to figure out exactly what we’re looking at here, and we should check the building for possible survivors. Do your men know how to clear a building, Sergeant?”

“Yes. sir, everyone has experience clearing buildings in Utah.”

“Good to know.” Luke was quiet for a minute while his eyes scanned the horizon. “Here’s what we’re going to do—my scouts will be under your command for clearance operations. I’ll guard the entryway so you’ll know your back is covered.”

Olsen almost objected to the plan before remembering who Luke was. In this situation, one man
could
guard the door without a partner.

Twenty minutes later the troops exited the building knowing only that nobody was inside, living or dead. Luke tried to fit together the clues he was seeing. “Even if everyone here was gathered outside, say, as part of some sort of ceremony or something, they still would have seen this many hunters coming from hundreds of meters away.”

“Unless one of their guys died, and they wanted to bury him out here instead of sending his body north, I can’t think of any reason why they’d all be out here at the same time,” Olsen reasoned. “And they wouldn’t bury him in a parking lot with no tools to break up the pavement.”

“You’re right, of course,” Luke agreed. “I think I know what happened here: the creatures that killed these men were smart. They somehow lured the garrison outside before revealing the size of their force.”

“You’re suggesting that the flesh-eaters set up some sort of ambush?” Olsen asked incredulously.

“Any hunters surprise you at Pickwick or Vicksburg? Did one of them grab your weapon or dodge a blow that should have hit?”

“Well, yeah,” Olsen confessed. “I mean, everyone was talking about how much the critters were evolving back then.”

“Like you said, that was back then; they continue to grow smarter and stronger every month, at least some of them do.  I know for a fact that some hunters worked together and set a trap for humans back in Texas. I also know that some of the infected are evolving beyond what we call hunters.”

“What do you mean, sir? I’m not sure I get it.” Sergeant Olsen had turned white as a sheet.

Luke put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Just don’t take hunter behavior for granted, Sergeant.” After Olsen nodded his understanding, Luke took a deep breath and surveyed the landscape again. “Well, where’s the next observation post?”

“Near the Virgin River Campground,” Olsen replied, “fifteen or twenty miles west of here.”

Luke started toward the Hummer and called out to the group, “Let’s load up and get out there.”

As the security guard escorted Andi and Thelma to the first floor, Andi whispered to the older woman, “Do you think there’s been some sort of threat?”

“I doubt it,” Thelma replied, keeping her voice low. “The president is very proactive, and he likes to keep his people on their toes. Plus the security detail here is top-notch; they’re extremely cautious—this is probably some kind of drill.”

The lobby was crowded with dozens of uniformed soldiers. “Can’t we just go get dinner?” Andi wasn’t sure if she should be addressing Thelma or the soldier.

“That’s an excellent idea, dear. I feel like we’d just be in the way here.” Thelma took Andi’s arm and gently steered her towards the dining room.

“Ma’am, I have orders to escort any guests to the lobby—” the guard began to protest.

“And you have—thank you for your chivalry. I’ll be sure to let President Barnes know how helpful and professional you’ve been. What’s your name again, dear?”

“Corporal McKee, ma’am, but—”

“Now no ‘buts’ about it, young man. I’ve worked for the president for longer than I can remember, and I know how much he values competent, trustworthy people. He’s always looking for young men with leadership potential.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but there are some officers in the dining room right now who asked not to be disturbed.”

“Well, we certainly won’t disturb them, will we dear?”

Andi shook her head. She had to admit that Thelma’s friendly and well-connected grandmother act was working like a charm at the moment.

Thelma leaned in toward the security guard as if she were sharing a confidence. “I’m also one of the kitchen supervisors here—if the dining guests are of any importance, I can discretely make sure that they’re well taken care of. Complimentary wine might be in order . . .”

Corporal McKee succumbed to Thelma’s influence. “I know Major Daniels has an appreciation for good wines.”

Thelma smiled sweetly. “Ms. Carrell and I will sit at a small table on the far wall, closest to the kitchen. I’ll make sure that the Major gets a bottle from the president’s reserve stock.” She turned to Andi. “Come along dear, and let’s sneak in as quiet as mice.”

There were about a dozen officers in the dining room, enjoying a boisterous conversation. They were so involved in their banter and their meal that not one of them noticed Andi and Thelma slip in. “You stay here, dear. I’ll arrange for our meal and see what I can do about sending the officers a decent bottle of wine.” She narrowed her eyes at Andi. “You’re lucky I’m watching out for you, so no funny business.”

As soon as she left, Andi scanned the room to see if she had any possible avenues of escape. Then, what one of the officers said caught her attention.

“I’m just glad to be focusing on the West Coast—I mean, who gives a damn about Indiana?” There were snickers and mumbles of agreement.

Another voice added, “If you’d have asked me a year ago, I’d have said the same thing about Utah.”

“Come on, Daniels, you’re one of the big guns nowadays. You’re supposed to say that all objectives have always been vitally important.” It was obvious that whoever was speaking was trying to sound like Barnes.

Daniels laughed, but chided the other officer. “I wouldn’t try that impersonation again, if I were you. I’ve heard the walls have ears around here. Speaking of which, has anybody seen Pruitt?”

Somebody offered, “Who cares?” and the group broke into laughter again.

Andi wondered why all these officers were assembled here, and why they seemed to be in such good spirits. She’d hoped that the security sweep had signaled trouble for Barnes, but that no longer seemed likely. The only thing she was sure of was that something big was happening or about to happen, and that the officers working for Barnes seemed pretty damn cocky and confident about it.

Suddenly the room fell silent, and everyone around the table stood. Four security guards surrounded Barnes as he strode in and stood next to Major Daniels. He was wearing a dark blue suit with golden shoulder epaulettes, and his expression was smugly serious. “I appreciate the effort it took for all of you to be here this evening, especially given the short notice. Please take a seat. We have two very important matters to discuss.”

Andi shrunk back against the wall, and she seriously thought about climbing under the table.

“As you know, we’ve pulled the trigger on the Utah invasion, and all reports indicate that they’re dashing for their designated evacuation locations. That certainly helps us avoid unnecessary infrastructure damage, and it is nice to know where we will be able to find so many of our Mormon friends clustered together when we go looking for them. They will make timely additions to our forces, and, as Major Daniels has pointed out, it’s much easier to relocate and contain them when they’re newly infected.”

Barnes cleared his throat. “Speaking of Major Daniels, it’s no secret that he has accomplished a monumental task, and done so ahead of schedule.”

Daniels hadn’t expected such public praise, but he believed that he certainly deserved it. He tipped his head to the president in what he hoped appeared to be humble acknowledgement of the kind words.

“I would like to hold Major Daniels up as an example to all of you,” Barnes continued. “I would like to, but I cannot.” Daniels looked as if someone had slapped him. “Apparently, there are a few of you, currently serving under Major Daniels command, who don’t truly support our cause. Who think it’s their place to interfere with my plans to save our planet and remake the world. Who side with the rebellion.”

Daniels looked around the table wildly, clearly unsure whether or not to believe what he was hearing. Two men, from opposite sides of the table, suddenly jumped up and made a mad dash for the door. The security guards behind Barnes drew their silenced pistols and dropped the men before they’d taken more than a few steps.

The commotion brought Thelma out from the kitchen, and she froze as soon as she saw the men with their weapons drawn.

Barnes continued talking as if nothing had happened. “Nothing is more important to me than loyalty. I have been provided with ample documentation that Major Daniels has been aware of the conspiracy against me, yet has done nothing to thwart it. And he isn’t motivated by misguided moral outrage. He simply thirsts for power. The power of the presidency. My power.” An almost imperceptible hand signal from Barnes resulted in a bodyguard stepping forward and slicing Daniels neck from ear to ear.

Andi gasped, and Barnes turned in the direction of the back wall. “Why, ladies, I didn’t realize you were here. I hope our leadership restructuring didn’t spoil your dinner.”