Chapter Twenty Four

I waited for Sergeant James and Oscar to turn on their heels and leave, then turned to Grady and asked, "What time is it now?"

He shot me a knowing grin. "It's 1800 hours, meaning six in the afternoon. 0400 hours is four in the morning, which is the earliest the night shift can safely drive the hoverbikes back from the city."

"What are we supposed to do between now and then?" I asked.

"We'll kill an hour cleaning our weapons, then it's up to you. The higher ups don't care if we can't sleep. They want us to take downtime whether we think we need it or not. They're afraid we'll lose our shit if we spend too much time killing zombies. If you want, you can stop in at the Armory and help out or check out the maintenance bay to get some hoverbike driving tips. Just don't leave the perimeter without talking to White first."

I followed Carver and the others as they headed for the Armory. White collected a few weapons-cleaning kits from the grizzled old soldier on duty and we set up a tarp on the ground outside so we could get the dull task out of the way.

Grady showed me how to disassemble my sidearm, clean it, dry it, and oil the moving parts. I'd learned how to clean a rifle at boot camp, but it was my first time dealing with a handgun. They gave me tips to keep it from jamming once I put it back together and White had me take it apart and clean it again when I finished too fast.

While we worked, they provided a few more suggestions on how I could fill the rest of my day. Doc would be heading off to bed soon, but he offered to show me around to the supply stockpiles in the morning. Knowing what we had available would make it easier to scavenge with a purpose in the future. Carver offered to teach me a few hand-to-hand moves, although he complained about how we wouldn't be allowed to spar. There was too much risk associated if one of us accidentally drew blood. Grady offered to teach me to the ins-and-outs of the X-50 utility rifle. He didn't think it would take much training for me to feel comfortable with it, considering how well I'd done using a plain assault rifle.

Finally, White let me know I could pick up a computer tablet from Intelligence and suggested I download a bunch of books while public servers were still accessible. She also let me know the tablet would give me a direct link to the Zed servers so I could see reports spanning the entire Battalion. The reading was dry as hell, she warned, but there was an occasional gem, such as the report she read about a Zed team up North. They'd been working to reclaim cargo trains and encountered an immune movie director so deep in denial, he was found brandishing a script and lecturing a zombie horde about the dangers of prolonged method-acting.

"I don't know about you guys, but it's been a long day for me," Doc said as he buckled his damp gun belt around his waist and holstered his newly assembled sidearm. "I'm going to check out the latest medical reports, then I'm getting some shut-eye. Wake me at 0200 for some grub."

White went with him, leaving me with Grady and sleepy-eyed Carver to fold up the tarp and return it to the Armory. They invited me to join them in checking out the latest news from perimeter security, but I waved them off since I didn't want to become known as a tag-along. I also wanted to meet up with Hanson and let him know the Unit wasn't full of shit. I had no problem sticking around after seeing them in action.

Hanson wasn't in the billet bus. I walked around until I found him eating a bowl of chicken-and-rice soup on a supply crate outside the Mess trailer. I sat down across from him and he gave me a welcoming smile.

"This is good," he mumbled between bites. "You want some?"

"We ate lunch in the city," I replied. "What do you want to know first?"

"Tell me everything," he ordered. So I did. It took me nearly an hour to go over the details of our encounters and relay my opinion of the way the platoon handled themselves. I didn't sugarcoat how we'd mowed down the horde of zombies who'd gathered around the radioactive truck, nor did I gloss over the way they'd handled the survivors, shipping them off to a medical ship without giving anyone options.

As soon as I finished, we took a break long enough for Hanson to return his empty bowl to the Mess and relocate to a shade tree on the perimeter of the camp so we could watch the movement of the soldiers while we talked. The ground was hard and the roots lumpy, but all the available chairs seemed to have been commandeered by the other squads who'd reported in at the same time as us.

Once we were relatively comfortable with the tree trunk at our back, it was Hanson's turn to talk. "I wasn't asleep the whole time you were gone. I only napped a few hours, then I wandered around to get the lay of the land here. I'm pretty convinced these guys are legit. The Intelligence trailer looks like the inside of a submarine. They have a lot of tech crammed into a small space. I also met the guy who stopped us at the river and he apologized for scaring the shit out of us. We talked for a good half-hour and he said he's been with the group since they were initially organized. Guess where that was."

"Where?" I asked on cue.

"Area 51," he said with a laugh. "Because the location has been fortified so much over the years to keep out conspiracy theorists, it's one of several locations being used as Zed's rallying base. They also have operations set up at Cheyenne Mountain, an encampment in Bakersfield, and they have launch platforms on a dozen Naval ships in case the mainland gets completely overrun. These guys aren't playing around. I think we were lucky to run into them before their operation went public."

"I agree, but there's no telling if things will stay like this. D-Nav mentioned they were going to start drafting soon. We could be up to our eyeballs in idiots within a week or two."

"I don't know. This is a specialized Unit, so I doubt they'll send us a bunch of randoms from the Quarantine zone. They'll probably send everyone they can to guard the divide between the East and West Coast."

I considered it. "Sergeant James mentioned they were forming clean-up crews to start incinerating bodies. It's possible they're drafting for that."

"That makes sense, although I hope they get started sooner rather than later. Right now, most of the undead in the US are concentrated on this side of the country. The longer they wait, the more they'll spread out and the harder it'll be to push back against them. Even if it's only a hundred a day they manage to incinerate, that'll be a hundred less we have to worry about in the future."

I snorted, realizing the pointlessness of our conversation—as if we had any say in what happened. "Listen to us talk like we're real commandos."

"We might as well, considering we have bonafide military records now. Cory in supply said we should get our tags and military IDs in tomorrow's supply drop. Our official uniforms, too."

I was surprised. "That's fast."

"The military is a machine. Even though Zed is a new branch the public don't even know about yet, their infrastructure is being built by the combined forces of every other military branch. The zombie infestation is too big of a threat for anyone to drop the ball, so they started by bringing veterans out of retirement to get things running with minimal fuss, but the next step is for all the other branches to reallocate their best assets. I think they're waiting to see if they can get a working vaccine before they risk anyone with talent on the front lines."

"I wonder what they'll do with us when that happens."

"I doubt anything will change. I talked to a guy in Intelligence and he said zombies in the US outnumber humans by a lot. Lich and immunes make up an even smaller portion of the population, so we're important assets for the upcoming battle."

"From the sound of it, you're okay with sticking around to fight?"

"This isn't really what I was thinking when I said we should find others like ourselves, but it's not bad, either. Zed has weapons, support, and I get the feeling the guys in charge are the type to have backup plans for their backup plans. And I don't think we have any other options right now. It's safer in a group. If we tried to take off on our own, we could accidentally put ourselves in the firing line of another Zed team."

Playing devil's advocate, I said, "And what happens if the people in charge think I'd be more useful on a medical ship than out here working as a soldier?"

"You don't have to worry about that," he replied. "That's something I forgot to tell you. While I was wandering around, I managed to get a couple lich from platoon six alone. They didn't want to talk to me until I said I wanted to know what I could do to fight it if they tried to ship you off somewhere else without me. They said that can't happen because Zed doesn't officially exist. Even when the Zed branch gets official backing, any Unit already in the field is going to continue working under black ops protocols. That's because they don't know how the public will react to the idea of forming Zed and they don't want us to stop making progress because of bureaucratic bullshit. So, you see, we might get military IDs and support, but we don't actually exist within the normal chain of command. It means there will be minimal repercussions if we decide to rip up any orders we receive and ignore them."

"That won't help much if they herd me onto a helicopter at gunpoint," I replied.

"I don't think that'll happen, either. The feeling I got from the camp was everyone had each other's backs. They know if they let one person get shipped off like that, any of them could be next. Now that we're one of them, they won't let anyone take us without a fight."

"So we stay," I stated with a nod. Hanson nodded with me, then reached out to grab my hand and hold it.

"No matter what, we're in this together," he said. "If your instincts ever says we should bail, then let me know and we'll make a run for it."

He was looking at me to lead, I realized. I didn't know why. Maybe I was bigger and stronger, but I wasn't smarter than him. I was also half-dead, which should have made it clear I could fuck up like anyone else.

Even so, I silently shouldered the responsibility he gave me and leaned over to kiss him. I think part of me expected him to reject me, so I was surprised when he leaned into it and kissed me back.

I pulled away before the kiss could deepen, remembering what Sergeant James had said about not getting frisky out in the open—it wasn't safe to let our guard down. Thankfully, Hanson didn't seem bothered by it, giving me a sweet smile full of promise.

I hoped we both lived long enough for him to make good on it.