Verge of Extinction (Apex Predator Book 3) (13 page)

“Yes, she is dying,” he replied. “And everyone in this room knows what’s going to happen when she does.”

It was Jen’s turn to interject.  “Yeah, she’ll be dead, the same thing that has happened to people for 4000 years.”

“She was bitten and she needs to be dealt with.”  He turned to the others who had been standing at the door.  “You people should know better than to bring someone back here after they’ve been infected.”

“Bitten?” SSgt Brown asked.  “She wasn’t bitten.  She was shot!”

“Shot,” the Bishop responded.  “What do you mean she was shot?  Who shot her?”

“Let’s talk in your office,” the soldier advised the Bishop.  After a moment, the Bishop stalked out of the make-shift operating room, gesturing his men to follow.

As if to bid the interlopers farewell, the gauze slipped off of the artery sending a fountain of blood squirting high in the air.  Jen couldn’t help but notice that the blood was not squirting as high as it had before.  Indira had to try to corral the artery again.  By the time she did, the artery had quit pulsating.  Ms. Hebert’s heart had stopped pumping.

Jen knew that this was the part in the movies where some gung-ho doctor would jump up on the patient’s bed and start performing bad CPR.  That’s not how it happened in real life, and it’s not what happened here.  Indira slowly withdrew her hands from the woman’s abdomen and took off her bloody gloves.  Donaldson let out an explicative starting with the letter F.  Joe simply turned and walked out.  It was Jen who stood over the body.

She gazed into the face of a woman she had known for a little over two weeks, but whom she’d never really gotten to know.  This woman had been the hammer that tried to bring some unknown punishment down on SSgt Brown and Sgt Procell.  She had been the loudest voice calling for Theresa to leave the fire station where they had met.  She had shot Sgt Procell in a farm house in eastern Louisiana.

But, she had also saved Theresa’s life several times that day on the Mississippi River.  She couldn’t think of much else she could say about her.  She placed her still gloved hand on the woman’s eyes and closed them.  It had been a long time since she’d stared into the eyes of the recently deceased on one of her gurneys.  Her mind began to drift into despair at the thought of losing another person in her life, even one she never really called a friend.

The sound of soft slow footsteps brought her back to the here-and-now.  Kerry was standing next to her.  The girl put her arms around Jen.  The older woman began weeping for the second time that day.  Kerry just held her.

After a few minutes, the two women began cleaning the body.  Jen threw a few quick stitches in the abdominal incision, while Kerry did her best to clean the blood.  They then undressed her and wrapped her in the cleanest white sheet they could find.

Kerry did a quick search of the pockets, looking for anything useful.  What she found was a picture in one of the back pockets.  It was a picture of Ms. Hebert and beautiful blonde woman.  The two were standing in front of a lake with big puffy clouds in the background.

Kerry was struck by how happy they looked.  Ms. Hebert had been angry and contrary to everyone since they had met her.  Whoever this person was, wherever the picture was taken; she was happy.  There was a smear of blood in one of the corners.  Kerry wiped it on the side of her pants.  She immediately knew where this picture would end up.

“Why the hell didn’t someone tell me that one of my teams was attacked by live people?” The question wasn’t directed towards anyone in particular.  No one answered.  “Who were they?” he asked.

SSgt Brown shrugged.  “I don’t know.”  He pointed to one of the Bishop’s maps.  “There’s a church right about here.”

“Who are they?” the Bishop repeated.  “Why did you get into a shootout with them?  How many are there?  And, most importantly, do they know about us?”

SSgt Brown hadn’t even thought about that.  Do these people pose a threat, not just to people outside the wire; but to the Island itself?

“I don’t know who, or how many there are.  There were maybe a dozen or so motorcycles in the parking lot.  I don’t know if they know we’re here.  I don’t see any reason to believe they do.”

“Well, we’re not taking any chances.”  Turning to Jerry, he rattled off a list of names.  “I want everyone in the command post in thirty minutes.  Sergeant Brown, get your Sergeant Procell up here for the meeting also.”  He wordlessly dismissed them.

Thirty minutes later, SSgt Brown and Sgt. Procell were leaning on a wall in a room filled to capacity with what looked like all of the key leaders on the Island.  SSgt Brown recognized a few of the faces.  Sam Reynolds was there.  The boat captain Bamma was there, as well as the rest of the boat captains.  There were others whom he did not recognize.

The Bishop cleared his throat, causing a nervous quiet to fall over the room.  “For those of you who don’t know, we’ve lost one of our own today.”  Most of them had heard about Ms. Hebert.  SSgt Brown’s eyes met Sam’s.   There was something strange.  For some reason, he thought Sam should look more upset.  Instead, the old fire captain looked indifferent to the death of someone who he had rescued.

The Bishop continued.  “What many of you may not know is that our friend was not killed by the undead.”  He paused for a moment to let that sink in.  “She was killed by a band of criminals.  These criminals didn’t even have the decency to parlay with our people before they fired upon them.”

SSgt Brown could feel that familiar tingle running up his spine.  “Oh shit,” he whispered to Sgt Procell.  The younger NCO nodded.

“These people pose a clear and present danger to the people of the Island.”  His voice became louder and more passionate.  “These are people I have sworn to my God to protect in these trying times.”  He turned to the two soldiers.

“Gentlemen, I am now tasking you with leading the Island’s defense force.  You will work with these people to acquire whatever equipment and materials you need to ensure the safety and security of the people of this island.”  He waived his arm in a great arc.

“You people are now essentially federalized.  If the Sergeants need anything from you, they get it.”  He turned to the NCO’s.  “Gentlemen, the floor is now yours.”

SSgt Brown wished the Bishop would have given him some warning.  He had no idea what to say, or even what he needed to secure this facility.  His mind raced.

He shifted from one foot to the other.  “Let me and Sergeant Procell confer with Jerry.  I’ll have a better idea of what I need from you folks after that.  We’ll meet back here at zero-eight-hundred.  That’s eight o’clock in the morning.  Go back, brief your people.  Dismissed.”

The meeting broke.  Jerry and the Bishop remained behind.  The soldiers and the civilian leaders began a long night of planning and organizing.  As usual, when it came to actually fortifying the island, Sgt Procell shined.   He drew out on paper his plans for setting up defensive positions and barriers not only on the bridge, but on the shoreline as well.  As he put it, “We don’t have the only boats on the Gulf coast.”

Within a few hours, SSgt Brown was satisfied that they had an adequate plan for the defense of the Island.  As they walked back to their sleeping quarters, Sgt Procell made an observation that sent a shiver up SSgt Brown’s spine.

“You know that man isn’t going to stop at static defenses right?  We’re eventually going to go looking for those folks.”  SSgt Brown thought that Sgt Procell’s limp became a little more pronounced as they walked along the grey pavement.

Day 39

The Island

The room was filled with the same leaders as the previous night.  This time it was SSgt Brown who stood in front of the large map pasted to the wall.  He held up a hand to quiet the commotion.  The people in the room settled.

For a long moment, he looked at the people in the room.  He hadn’t known but a few of them the night before.  At least today, he knew most of their names, and a little of their backgrounds.  He looked each in the eye, just for a brief moment.  He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he figured he’d know it when he saw it.

Finally, he spoke.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for returning this morning.  I’d like to introduce Sergeant Procell of the hundred-and-first Airborne Division.”  He’d thought long and hard about how he and Ed were going to gain the respect of these people.  “I’m Staff Sergeant Brown of the Louisiana National Guard.  Between the two of us, we have over twenty-five years of military experience and just shy of five years in combat.  Sergeant Procell is a Combat Engineer and I’ve done my time in the Cavalry.”

He could see that some of the people looked impressed, while others did not.  He pointed again to the map.  “For those who have forgotten, we have a potentially hostile group within ten miles of our current location.  The only access to the mainland is either a bridge that measures over a mile, or by boat.  The Island has roughly 3 miles of coastline.  Given those facts, Sergeant Procell and I have devised a defense plan.”

He glanced around the room again.  Every eye was on him.  He had them.  He just had to keep them.  He passed each person two sheets of stapled papers.  Each paper contained a detailed list of equipment and materials that would be required, as well as a personnel list.  The list contained 88 names, each chosen by the two soldiers.  Everyone in the room with the exception of the Bishop and Jerry was on the list, as well as others.  The names were organized into an organizational structure.  The top of the organization was Staff Sergeant Brown’s name

After the Bishop received his paper, he held a hand in the air and stood.  “Sergeant Brown, it appears that there is a discrepancy.  I see here that you and Sergeant Procell have divided the militia into two groups.  It appears to me that these groups are too large for a Staff Sergeant and Buck Sergeant to run.”

The NCO’s traded worried glances.  They had not run the Table of Organization and Equipment, otherwise known as a TO&E, by the Bishop.  “Well sir,” SSgt Brown began, “We really don’t have a lot of leadership experience running around here.  As you may have noticed, we are short on any form of officer.”

“A problem I plan to rectify,” the older man interrupted.  He strode to the front of the room, Jerry in tow.  “Staff Sergeant Brown, please stand at attention.  I never served, but I had a friend who helped me with this.  If I do it incorrectly, you will be kind enough to let it slide won’t you?”

SSgt Brown was stunned.  He had an idea of what was about to happen.  He could see the two shiny pieces of metal the Bishop was attempting to hide in the palm of his hand.

“Attention to orders!”  The group stood as one.  It was clear to SSgt Brown and Sgt Procell that the others in the room had been let in on the secret.

“Staff Sergeant David Brown,” he said in his most official voice, “over the past weeks you have demonstrated a dedication to duty and patriotism that far outshines your peers.”  It went without saying that the NCO had no real peers in the group.  “As such, it is my pleasure to recognize you and present you with this promotion to First Lieutenant of Cavalry in the Mississippi National Guard.  You are hereby granted all of the privileges and responsibilities that accompany your new rank.  You are also hereby appointed to the post of commander of the First Company, First Mississippi Cavalry.”

He removed the subdued Staff Sergeant insignia from the man’s uniform and pinned on a makeshift silver bar.  He stepped back and saluted the new officer.  Lt. Brown returned the salute in silence.  The Bishop then turned his sights on Sgt Procell.  To him, he presented a yellow colored metal bar and designated him a second Lieutenant in the Mississippi National Guard.

Jackson noticed the silver inch long piece of metal on Lt. Brown’s shirt immediately.  Snapping to attention he saluted the new officer.  “It’s about time somebody finally promoted you,” he said with a grin.

Lt. Brown was not grinning.  To him, it now meant more responsibility.  He was responsible for the lives of more people.  He had been anxious as hell just trying to keep a half-dozen people alive. Suddenly he was responsible for almost 90.

Jackson saw the look on his boss’s face and knew what it was about.  He’d heard his boss talking to Jen about how much he disliked being the one in charge.  He knew how much the man desperately wanted someone else to be in charge.  Hell, he thought, he didn’t blame him.  People had a bad habit of dying around here.

Lt. Brown suddenly broke into a smile.  He reached into his pocket and retrieved a piece of camouflaged cloth.  “Attention to orders!”  Jackson assumed the position of attention.  “Private Jackson, over the past weeks you have displayed an inordinate amount of courage, ingenuity, and patriotism.  Your actions bring great credit upon you, your unit, and the United States Army.  As such, it is my pleasure to promote you to the rank of Staff Sergeant in the Mississippi National Guard.  You are hereby granted all of the privileges and responsibilities that accompany your new rank.”