Z14 (Zombie Rules) (36 page)

             
“That’s not an option.” I said calmly, but deliberately.

             
“I’m afraid it is.” He replied in the same tone.

             
“Then we’ll leave.” Howard said. He was getting a little miffed as well. Howard motioned to me and we turned to leave.

             
“Hold up just a moment.” He said. We turned back toward him. “It’s just a precaution.” He continued. “We don’t want anyone playing around and having an accidental discharge.”

             
“I see. Why are you and your fellow soldiers armed? How do I know one of you won’t have an accidental discharge, hmm?”

             
He looked at me incredulously, and then sighed. “Will you do me a favor and wait here while I get my sergeant?” I looked at Howard. I was done with these guys, but I knew Howard was going to have to answer to Lashonda when we got back.

             
“Okay, please make it quick.” I said. He smirked at me, as if to say, okay smart ass, and jogged off to another group who were standing by a couple of rectangular tables. There were soldiers sitting there and four people in civilian clothes on the other side. They were all looking at us curiously.

             
I watched as the corporal spoke to a short Hispanic soldier, who I assumed was the sergeant, before pointing at us. The two of them walked back toward us. He was a compact man. His torso made a V shape down to a narrow waist, indicating athleticism. His uniform was clean and even appeared to be starched. He walked up to us, stopped, and assumed a parade rest position.

             
“I’m First Sergeant Santiago. I’m Puerto Rican, so don’t you dare call me Mexican unless you’re ready to fight.” He said with a distinctive accent.

             
“I’m Howard Allen and this is my friend, Zach Gunderson.” Howard said. We shook hands formally. He looked at both of us for emphasis. “This is Corporal Alexander.” The corporal nodded at us with a pleasant smile. “He advises me the two of you are refusing to relinquish your weapons.”

             
“He is correct.” I said.

             
“May I ask why?” He said.

             
“Certainly. The last group of soldiers I encountered tried to kill me.” I pulled some of my hair aside, pointed to the scar on the side of my head, and looked at the corporal. “I certainly don’t believe it was an accidental discharge.” I said. Sergeant Santiago eyed us both closely and reached a decision.

             
“You’ve been in another recent altercation, it would appear.” He said. I didn’t respond. “Very well, but keep those side arms holstered at all times. If you will follow me I would like to introduce you two to the commanding officer.” He came to attention, did a smart about face, and marched off without bothering to see if we were following.

             
He led us into a hangar, told us to wait a moment, and then walked over to a man sitting at a table reading something. The man looked up in mild irritation, listened to the First Sergeant, and said something. First Sergeant Santiago waved us over.

             
“I guess the Captain feels you are worthy enough to have an audience with him.” The corporal said under his breath. We walked over together and stopped in front of the table, whereupon we were pointedly ignored for several seconds. He was in his forties, balding with a little stubble sticking out on the sides. He used store bought glasses to read with. He looked more like a book editor or a college professor than a soldier. He finally looked up, glanced at us, and then glared at the First Sergeant.

             
“First Sergeant, I thought I made myself clear. When rounding up these people, they are to be disarmed for purposes of safety.” Maybe it was because I was not feeling the best, but I was instantly irked. First Sergeant Santiago started to speak, but I interrupted him.

             
“First Sergeant, tell the arrogant Captain we will not disarm for anyone.” I heard the corporal snort behind me while his captain looked over and glared at me. He spoke while still staring at me.

             
“First Sergeant, inform this young man that I am to be addressed as sir, Captain, or Captain Steen. Anything else is unacceptable and may lead to charges.” The first sergeant eyed me.

             
“First Sergeant! Please inform the arrogant, bald headed prick that I am not in the military and therefore don’t give a shit what his rank is!” To my surprise, the first sergeant snapped to attention, clicking the heels of his boots loudly.

             
“Sir! The young man says you’re a bald headed prick and he does not care what rank you are!” Howard erupted with one of his belly laughs. The Captain’s face turned red and he stood so quick his chair flew backwards.

             
“Escort these two off of the premises.” He said curtly, turned and walked off, disappearing into an office within the hangar. The corporal was now chuckling out loud as he escorted us outside.

             
“Holy shit, I haven’t seen him that pissed off in a while.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “I like you kid.” He said. The goodhearted slap sent a shockwave of pain through me, but I didn’t show it.

             
“Come on.” The First Sergeant said. “We need to get you two out of sight before he does something stupid, like order us to arrest you two. Follow me.” We followed the first sergeant out of a side door.

             
“Corporal, let’s escort our guests back to their vehicle.” The First Sergeant said. I looked around, scanning the area as we walked.

             
“What happened to you kid? You get in a fight or something?” Corporal Alexander asked.

             
“A douchebag who liked to call himself the Captain tried to kill me.” I said.

             
“Ah, that’s why you took an instant disliking to Captain Steen.” He said.

I shrugged. “I guess so. He sure is an arrogant prick though.”

              Corporal Alexander shrugged as we walked. “Yeah, he is, but otherwise he’s not so bad. When it comes to running the unit and the civilians, he’s pretty competent.

             
When we reached the jeep, we introduced the soldiers to Rowdy.

             
“Howdy boys.” He said while shaking their hands. “Do you fellows like country music?”

             
Corporal Alexander peered closely at him and then his eyes widened in recognition. “I know you!” He said. “You’re Rowdy Yates! I’m from Alabama too! I got your CD man, it’s awesome.” He pumped Rowdy’s hand again. “My name’s Terry, Terry Alexander. Man oh man, I never thought in a million years I’d be meeting you!”

Rowdy grinned
and the two of them started talking about music. I saw First Sergeant Santiago watching. He shook his head in mock disgust. I caught his attention and pointed to the group of soldiers and a couple of civilians. They looked familiar.

             
“What are they doing over there?” I asked.

             
“That is the in-processing station. All incoming personnel fill out a questionnaire. Most of it is standard data, name, gender, age, ethnic origin, what trade skills you have, the usual. Then, the questions go into more detail, as in surviving family members, who and how many in your family were infected, and then there are questions about your health.” First Sergeant Santiago said as he looked at the process with satisfaction.

             
“Then, all incoming personnel are given a briefing on the transition to Fort Campbell. They are advised what items they may bring and the weight limit.”

             
“Let me guess, weapons are not allowed.” I said. The First Sergeant jutted his chin out.

             
“There is no need for personal weapons. I have a company of highly trained soldiers who are more than capable of providing protection of all of the citizens. In the event we need additional armed personnel, we have more than enough firearms secured in our armories. We can arm the citizenry as needed.”

             
“Kind of sounds like Stalinist Russia.” I commented dryly.

             
“Alright gentlemen, why are you really here?” First Sergeant Santiago asked pleasantly. I looked at the two civilians who were meandering around the soldiers. I recognized them now. They were the ones who tried to ambush me. I turned to the First Sergeant.

             
“We got one of your messages from the Chinook and thought we’d come check you out.” I said.

             
“I’m getting the impression you two have no desire to be relocated.” He said. I scoffed.

             
“I don’t, but Howard here has a wife and two kids. He might be more receptive, but we’ve not even heard what you guys have to offer yet.”

             
First Sergeant Santiago resumed his parade rest posture. “We have cleared Fort Campbell of all infected individuals. Displaced families will be relocated to the on base housing. Single civilians are housed in the barracks” He paused a moment as Captain Steen made a reappearance. He saw us, and then walked over to the table of other soldiers. They stood immediately and saluted.

             
The First Sergeant continued. “I’m very pleased to say we have housing, health care, potable water, food, and our school is scheduled to be reopened any day now. In addition to the company sized unit of military, we currently have ninety civilians whom we have rounded up from as far away as Louisville, Kentucky.”

             
“And then what?” Howard asked. “Tell me what you guys are doing up there? What do you have the survivors doing?”

             
“We have work crews. Everyone works, everyone has a purpose. We are constantly striving to improve our living conditions and way of life. Do you have any kind of specialty?” Santiago asked.

             
“I do. I’m a mechanic. I can fix any kind of automobile you got, and my wife is one hell of a cook.” Howard said proudly.

             
First Sergeant Santiago nodded thoughtfully. “We have a sizeable motor pool and a severe shortage of skilled mechanics, and we can always use another chef. You’d fit in very nicely Mr. Allen.” He then turned his attention to me.

             
“What about you, Mr. Gunderson? Do you have any special skills?”

             
“None at all.” I replied with a slight shake of my head. “What would you do with a person who has no skills?” I asked sarcastically.

             
“There is no shortage of work involving manual labor.” He said without hesitation.

             
“Don’t let him fool you, First Sergeant.” Howard said while chuckling. “If it wasn’t for Zach, my family and I probably wouldn’t have survived.” Howard gently squeezed my shoulder. “He’s meant a great deal to us.”

             
First Sergeant Santiago looked me over closely in renewed interest. I watched over his shoulder as Captain Steen along with two soldiers, started walking toward us. I gestured with my head. First Sergeant Santiago turned around.

             
“I wonder what the hell he’s up to.” He asked himself. He waited until Captain Steen was close, came to attention, and saluted, as did Corporal Alexander. Captain Steen responded with a crisp salute.

             
“Carry on, First Sergeant.” He said.

             
“Sir, I was filling in the three gentlemen on our operation and relocation process.” Captain Steen nodded at the First Sergeant and peered over our shoulder.

             
“Who is the armed gentleman over there talking to the corporal?” He asked.

             
“He is our back up, along with another one of my friends about three hundred yards from here surreptitiously hidden.” His eyes widened slightly.

             
“Mister Gunderson, do you have a sniper deployed?” First Sergeant Santiago asked. I nodded. “That is totally unnecessary sir.” He replied tersely.

             
“I believe it is.” I said. “Let me tell you about the last encounter I had with you military types.” Rowdy stopped talking as I told the story of the group of National Guard soldiers, culminating in the fatal encounter with Corporal Hart and his crew. All of the soldiers listened with intent interest.

             
“This is a constant reminder, gentlemen.” I said as I pointed again to the scar on the side of my head.

             
Captain Steen pointed at my face. “It would appear you have recently been involved in another violent encounter.” He said.

             
“I have.” I briefly told them about the Captain. “I’m not a very trusting person these days, so you can see why I will never allow myself to be willingly disarmed. And, I certainly don’t like anyone with the title of captain.”