Apocalypse Aftermath (3 page)

“Good.”
Austin added a moment later.

“What?”
Jessica looked up, but the scene was still clear.

“They’re through.” Austin said, depressing the accelerator slightly to increase speed.

“Yay.” Candice said.

“Right again girlie-girl.”

“It sounded like there was a lot of zombies back there.”

“Were.” Jessica corrected automatically.  “Were a lot of zombies.”

“Right.”

Austin shrugged.  “Not too many.  We’re fine.”

“Thank you Mr. Carter.  I’m glad you’re here keeping us safe.”

He laughed lightly.  “What did I say you’re supposed to call me?”

Jessica glanced back in time to see Candice squirming uncertainly in her seat.  Her daughter met Jessica’s gaze before lowering her eyes.  “I’m supposed to call adults Mr. and Mrs.” she muttered.

“Well—” Jessica began, before looking at Austin, who was smiling and clearly struggling to keep from laughing.  She gave him a helpless shrug, which he returned by winking, and she resisted the urge not to scowl at him.  He was having so much fun he clearly wasn’t going to intervene.  “Since Austin said it’s okay, and since he’s being such a big help to us, I guess you can call him Austin.”

Candice clapped her hands twice.  “I’m glad you’re here Austin.” she said, clearly eager to try out the new form of address.

“I’m glad I can help keep everyone safe.” Austin said gravely.  “And thank you Mom.” he added, winking at Jessica again.  “When people call me Mr. Carter it makes me want to look around for my dad.”

“Mr. Morris calls you Mr. Carter.” Candice observed.

“Yes, but he’s my boss.  I suppose he gets to call me just about whatever he wants.”

Jessica winced as her finger slipped on the bullet and caught painfully on the magazine’s lip.  She examined her finger briefly, but no blood was evident.  As she waited for the stinging to fade she caught Austin’s eye again.  He was still amused, and now she did let a bit of a scowl appear.  “Be nice, Mr. Carter.” she muttered.

“It takes some practice.” he said by way of apology before glancing back to the rearview mirror.

“So I see.”

“What’s wrong?” Candice asked.

“Nothing sweetie.” Jessica said as she picked the bullet up out of her lap and tried again to get it fed into the magazine.  “Everything’s fine.”

“So far” she added mentally as she kept reloading the magazine and Austin guided the SUV down the road.

“We might have a problem out here.”

Peter paused with his face only half shaven and set the razor down next to the sink.  Lifting the radio he hadn’t reattached to his gear webbing after his shower, he pressed the button.  “This is Gunny, what is it?”

Mendez’s voice sounded faintly amused.  “Double handful of the balance challenged just rounded the north corner past the gas station.”

“Me and Oliver can take care of it if the ground team swings back a little.” Swanson cut in.

“Right.” Crawford sneered audibly before Peter could respond.  “I’d better swap with one of them or we’ll be out of ammo.”

“Hey fuck you Crawford, we’re good.”

“Good for nothing you mean.”

Sighing, Peter clipped the radio into place and picked up his AR-15 as he opened the bathroom door.  Steam swirled out into the bedroom as Swanson and Crawford laid into each other.  He’d split the two of them up because while they seemed like they were friends, of a sort, they also weren’t able to get along without a healthy amount of friction.  He should’ve known better.

“—so hot, why don’t we all just sit on our asses while you head on down and talk to them zombie y mujer.” Swanson was saying as Peter crossed the bedroom.

“Takes a woman to do a man’s job.”

“So go get Whitley then Crawford.  Better, we could fetch out that pregnant lady in 217.”

“And you can be the on-call for when we need someone without balls.”

“Fuck you, I’ve got balls twice as big as your ego.”

“Where, in a box at your mom’s house?  They don’t work if they’re not attached you know.”

Peter opened the door, stepped out onto the motel’s second floor walkway, and slammed it closed behind him as hard as he could.  As the noise reverberated, he managed to glare in both directions down the walkway by swiveling his head quickly back and forth.  Two soldiers in mottled green and black utility outfits were in place at the ends of the walkway, one pair each covering the top of the stairs that led up from the parking lot.  The cross-talk on the frequency died, and Peter lifted his radio.

“If you’re both done fucking off.” Peter said with only a mild edge of reproach in his tone.  “Mendez, handle it but fade back to the motel while you are.  Don’t let anything get too close.  North corner, cover him from your position.”

“We’re not too worried about the noise?” Mendez asked.

“Not with the Wonder Twins yelling at each other.” Peter shook his head slightly.  “Someone let me know if a real problem comes up.  And knock off the unnecessary chatter.  We’re all tired.  You can hold off pointing out each other’s shortcomings until later.”

He fixed a steady look at the north end of the walkway, where Swanson and Oliver were stationed, and saw Oliver shove Swanson a little.  To the south, Crawford and Barker were looking away from him, but she wasn’t on her radio anymore, so he decided she’d gotten the message.

As he heard Mendez and Dorne begin firing, tapping out single shots, Peter went back in the room he’d commandeered.  The shooting ended by the time he finished his interrupted shave, and no one came back on the radio to report any problems.  He washed the
last traces of shaving cream from his face and dried off with a washcloth, then left the bathroom door open to finish airing out and went back into the bedroom.

Collapsing across the bed, Peter allowed himself a groan as the surprisingly soft mattress took his weight.  He was getting too damned old to spend days on his feet in the field, though it was a point of pride that he could still keep up. 
As long as the Tylenol held out.  At least it was all just aches and pains and not actual injury that had him grateful for the soft bed.  With any luck he’d get the chance to enjoy it at least until the afternoon, assuming his reservists could hold down the fort.  It had been a long couple of days.

Dangerous days.

Before he could close his eyes, a brisk knock came at the door.  Peter answered without looking; didn’t even bother to sigh.  Price of being in charge.  “Come.”

“Gunny, I was going to have a look at your hands.” Whitley said as she opened the door.

“They’re fine.” he said.

“Come on, you know better.” the National Guard corporal said reprovingly.  “We need you in shape or we’re all in trouble.”

“I cleaned them before I took a shower.” Peter sighed, sitting up.  The disinfectant he’d poured over his cuts had stung like hell, but he wasn’t about to let the wounds fester.  This was sure as hell not the time to lose the use of his hands.

“Fine, then let me finish treating them for you.”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

“Uh, yes it is.  Or have you forgotten in your old age.”

“Cute.  You guys are just killing me.”

Whitley laid a medical kit on the table and popped it open.  “If you let them get infected we’re fucked, so come on, ass in the chair Marine.”

Peter heaved himself off the bed and dropped into one of the chairs after she’d repositioned them to face each other.  “Please tell me you remember your basic first aid.”

“Basic, yeah.  It’s just ointment and bandages.  If you want stitches then we’ll have to find a real medic.”

“You’re going to make someone a fine wife someday.”

“Nice of you to notice.” Whitley grinned as she opened a small tube of antibacterial cream.  Peter laid his hands out palms up on the table for her, and she started squeezing the ointment across the broken skin on his palms and fingers.

“Civvies all tucked in?”

She nodded.  “I think most of them are asleep in their rooms.”

“Good.  They’ve been through a lot.”

“So have we.”

“That’s why we’re taking a break.”

“For how long?”

Peter shrugged as she capped the tube and split open a sterile gauze pad packet.  “Depends, but at least until tomorrow if we can catch any sort of luck.”

“Have we so far?” Whitley gave him a quick look of wry, tired amusement as she started lightly smearing the ointment across his hands using the pad.

“My point exactly, we’re due.”

“Funny guy.  That what passed for humor when you were my age?”

“In my day we didn’t even have running water.”

“I know, I know.” Whitley shook her head.  “Uphill, both ways, in the snow and rain.  My dad used to make the same joke.”

“Damn straight.  You kids are all spoiled rotten with your running water and level ground.  Don’t know how good you’ve got it.”

“That’s what we need you for.  Perspective.”

Peter grinned.  “Babysitting.”

“Are we there yet?”  She laid the pad aside and picked up a roll of gauze.  She started winding it around his hand, covering the abrasions and their layer of ointment.  “You should wear gloves until these heal.”

“Sure you’re not a medic?”

“Pretty sure.  You got any?”

“Yeah, in my pack.  Should’ve been wearing them anyway.  I know better.”

“First thing to go is the mind.”

Peter laughed.  “No, it’s the knees and back.”

“Not the head?”

“Not so far.  But how would I tell?”

Whitley shook her head in amusement.  “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.”

“Fine, fine wife you’ll be.  You already know how to point out shortcomings.”

“So, we crash here until tomorrow?”

“We need the downtime.” Peter nodded.  “We’re not as wiped as we were Friday night, but it’s still been a hell of a couple of days.  Best we catch our breath while we’ve got the chance.”

“And after we’re back on our feet?”

“I haven’t figured that one out yet.” Peter admitted as she started interleaving the gauze strip through and around his fingers to cover the injuries on the bases of his fingers.  Pulling a SUV out of a twenty-seven vehicle pileup with upwards of a thousand hungry zombies bearing down didn’t leave much room for taking it easy.  His palms and some of the pads of his fingers had cuts and compression splits that, while superficial, were going to be an issue until they healed.

“Civvies?”

“That’s the trick.  Saving them is easy, but . . .”

Whitley nodded.  “Figuring out what to do with them is harder.”

“Yup.”

She finished with the first hand and cut off the extra gauze before taping it down.  “You want tape over these or . . . ?”

“Gloves.”

“Right.”  She started on his other hand.  “Go into the protection racket or stay with the white knight thing.  Not sure there’s a right answer.”

“The bus is gray.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, what little there was of the humor in the situation fading.  “It’s the medical situation that’s killing me.”

“Easier to walk away if they’re all healthy.”

“And I have no idea where we can find a doc.”

“You’ll come up with something.”

Peter frowned.  “Stop saying that.”

“You will.  I trust you.  Everyone does.”

“Great.  Weight of the world, no pressure.”

Whitley shrugged.  “Or at least one Interstate exit’s worth of it.”

“So what the word Mr. Soul?” Bobo asked as Tank and Shooter settled down on stools near the bar.

“Atlanta is gone.” the retired preacher said, his voice calm despite the serious expression on his face.

Darryl flinched at that, regardless of how unsurprising it was.  First zombies, then a bombing by what was left of the military; he hadn’t expected what was left of the city to fare very well.  But the flat report of the state capitol’s demise was still a shock.

“Wait, gone?” Big Chief asked.  “How it gone?”

Mr. Soul shrugged.  “Most of the city burning, and if anyone is left to work on fighting the fires, they aren’t getting much of anything done.  Whole lot of buildings collapsing or already collapsed in Downtown and Midtown.  And the fires are spreading.”

“Shit.” Vivian shook her head.  “The whole city?”

“Mostly in downtown, around I-20 and the Connector.  But there’s a big one at Druid Hills too.  They’re saying the trees are helping feed it, but even if it keeps going it shouldn’t jump 285.”

Darryl lit his cigarette and tipped his head back to exhale straight up
, trying to keep his horror at the news from fully coloring his attitude.  “I thought all the TV and whatever was based in Atlanta.  How they still reporting if it all burning?”