Apocalypse Atlanta (53 page)

“So what happens next?” Jenkins asked, shifting against the cushions he was leaning against.

“I dunno, that’s where I quit playing.  Which is my point.  That was a stupid as hell plan that guy had, so I said no fucking way.” Smith said.

There was another moment, then several people started trying to talk at once.  Peter made out “dumbass” and “you stupid fucker” among the comments being directed at Smith, though there were other things being said to him in a mishmash of simultaneous accusation.  Smith waved his hands in the air, as if he were trying to fend off the verbal barrage with gestures.

“Hold up, hold up.”

“Thanks for story time with Specialist Smith.” Candles said, sounding pretty annoyed.  “Now let’s get back to reality.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Smith protested.  “The game said the only way to proceed was to go into Hell, and I decided that if I were that guy there’s no way I’d fucking do that.  So I quit playing.  I always imagined loading up on coffee and camping in the corner of the lab for a couple of weeks with my gun pointed at the door until the reinforcements from Earth arrived.”

“Dude, seriously?” Hernandez started to say, but Peter stood up and clapped his hands twice.

“Knock it the fuck off.” Peter said, loud enough to cut through all the by play.  He didn’t play video games, but Smith’s seemingly irrelevant story reminded him of a movie from the early 80s.  It had been a while since he’d seen Wargames, but he remembered the computer at the end of the movie, which was trying to learn how to play games, decided some games weren’t worth playing.  That it was a waste of time and effort to bother playing.

“I think what Smith is trying to say is we spent all last night trying to get out of the city, and all we accomplished was get most of us killed or eaten.” Peter said slowly.

“Killed and eaten, you mean.” Crawford muttered.

Peter gave her a sharp look, and she shrugged.  She didn’t say anything further as Peter continued.  “Sure we’re rested and fed now, and we’ve had some time to wrap our heads around what we’re facing, but I don’t think we should just charge back out there so fast.  I want to look around in the apartments or condos or whatever they are here and see if we can find a way to contact someone.”

“Who?”

“Anyone.” Peter said, suppressing a sigh.  “Preferably Clay or someone in either the Georgia Guard or regular military chain of command; but honestly I’d settle for some kid in Smyrna or whatever.  Anyone who can tell us what’s going on beyond the shit we’re stuck in right here.  Anyone who maybe can help break us out of here, fill us in on what we need to know to have a chance to cut ourselves clear.”

“There’s no power.  There ain’t no phones.” Candles protested.  “What are we going to hunt around for, a magic wand?”

“Look!” Peter shouted, his grip on his temper finally starting to slip.  “Calm down and listen for a minute.”  He resisted the urge to put his hand on the grip of the pistol holstered on his right side.  That might escalate things in the apartment in a way that would be dangerous, and completely unnecessary.

There was really only one thing, technically two, Peter might be willing to shoot anyone else in the room over.  Destroying or opening the fence, or if they tried to hurt someone else.  Apart from keeping either of those things from happening, Peter didn’t care about much else at the moment.

Candles had subsided, though he looked angry.  “Here’s how I see things.” Peter said more calmly.  “Unless and until I get in touch with some higher authority, I’m assuming the shit has well and truly filled the pot, and we’re deep in it.  And not in a ‘things are bad so we need to hold on for rescue’ way either.  I’m saying there might not be anyone left who’s able to rescue us.”

Silence filled the room as Peter paused to let the weight of his words sink in a bit.  He glanced around at the faces watching him, then sighed.  “What I’m saying is I don’t think it matters all that much to anyone except us whether or not we get out of here.”

Candles opened his mouth, but Hernandez leaned in and spoke before the other could.  “So what, we should just sit in here and wait to die?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.  I intend on living, and I want to get out of here.  But if there’s a disagreement on how we go about that, then I’m not going to ride roughshod on anyone’s ass.  If you think you have a better plan, then fine.  Head on out, go do whatever.”

“So what, it’s every man for himself?” Candles asked.

Peter shrugged.  “Sort of, yeah.  I think our best chance is probably to still work together.  But like I told whats-his-name last night, if you want to split, I ain’t got the time or inclination to stop you.”

“We’re deserters then?” Mendez asked, sounding a little shocked.

“No.  We’re . . . look, it’s not deserting if there’s no one to report to.” Peter said.  “And right now we are definitely cut off and on our own.  If what’s happening here is even half as bad everywhere else, then I’m pretty sure it’ll be weeks, probably months, before what’s left of the armed forces, hell the government, get their shit together and organized again.”

“Fine, then I vote for grabbing off some of those cars and rolling out of here.” Candles said.

“I vote we sit in here until we come up with a good plan.” Smith interjected on the heels of Candle’s statement.  “Going out there on a hope and a prayer is proven suicide.”

Peter shook his head as Candles glared at Smith.  “Whitley’s right.  Using a vehicle from here means the gate has to be opened, and that screws over anyone who wants to stay.”

“So everyone should come then.”

Whitley threw her hands up.  “Aren’t you listening?  You want to go, then go.  But just because you can leave doesn’t mean you have the right to make the rest of us come with you.”

“Well I think Candles is right.” Hernandez said.  “We should get the hell out of here, and we’ll have time to work on the cars without being bothered.  It’s a good plan.”

Peter waved his hands.  “Okay, cards on the table.  I’m pretty sure we’re just a bunch people stuck in the middle of a fucked up situation, not a military unit.  Not anymore.  But having said that, as a guy who’s stuck here right now, I’m not going to take it well if anyone tries to fuck me over.”

“Say what?” Roper asked.  Peter ignored him, keeping his eyes on Candles and Hernandez, who seemed to be the most eager to split.  They were studying Peter cautiously, though Candles had more anger in his expression than Hernandez’s did.

“If you want to leave, then leave.  I’ll even help you climb over the fence.  But, at least for a while, I plan on holing up in here.  That fence is basically almost all of the reason I want to do that.  If you fuck with the integrity of the fence then that fucks me over.”

Candles’ eyes narrowed as they met Peter’s, and the Marine felt himself stilling.  As moments ticked by, staring at Candles’ face, Peter abruptly realized he was completely ready to shoot the other man.

He hadn’t drawn his pistol, but he knew, absolutely knew, he could fill his fist with the M45 and put at least one, probably two or three, bullets into Candles before the Guardsman would be able to get his M-16 off the floor and into a firing position.  A piece of him was shocked at the notion, but he knew he’d rather be alive to feel bad about it.  He was completely ready to kill whoever he had to in order to live.

He really didn’t want to have to though.

“Okay, deep breaths.” Swanson said after a moment.  “Everyone just ease down.  There’s no urgency.  We’re safe here.  We’ve got time to argue about this all day if that’s what it takes.”

“I don’t want to sit around in here bitching when we could be on the move.” Candles said, keeping his eyes on Peter.

“No one’s saying you have to.” Smith said.  “You can go or stay, however you want.  But I’m with sarge.  The fence is why staying here is gonna work.  So whatever you do, don’t fuck with the fence.”

Candles opened his mouth, but other heads were nodding around the circle.  Hernandez leaned in again and touched him on the shoulder.  Candles looked at him angrily, but Hernandez just shrugged and spoke pretty calmly.  “They’re right.”

“So you’re going to just squat in here with the rest of them?” Candles demanded.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Hernandez said.  “But the fence is what’s giving us the time to argue about this like a bunch of old women.  And maybe there’s a satellite phone or something around here.  For sure there’s probably food.  I’m willing to give it at least a day.”

Candles threw his hands up as he rose suddenly to his feet.  Stomping a little, he left the living room and went into one of the bedrooms.  Peter watched him go, thinking the man probably should have taken his weapon just as a matter of safety, but equally as glad Candles hadn’t.  He clearly needed to cool down.

“What about the rest of you?” Peter asked after the bedroom door Candles had vanished into had audibly closed.

“I’m with you sarge.” Whitley said immediately.  “Safety in numbers, and you’re experienced.”

“I’m not sure anyone can honestly say they’re trained for what we’re stuck in the middle of.” Peter said, but other heads were nodding in agreement with Whitley.  Roper, Swanson and Smith primarily.  Mendez gave a single jerky nod, almost a mirror of what Crawford did.

“I’m willing to sit things out here for the time being.” Hernandez spoke quietly, his tone even and unchallenging.  “I’m not saying for how long, but at least until tomorrow.  And even if I decide it’s time to head out, I won’t fuck with the fence.”

Peter nodded.  “I appreciate it.”  He ran his gaze over the rest of the Guardsmen, the ones who hadn’t indicated what they were thinking.

“Oh fuck.” Oliver said.  “Look . . . okay, fine.”  He swallowed visibly, then gave a shaky laugh.  “I’ll hang in here for the time being.  At least today, unless something happens that changes circumstances.”

“I’m all for getting out of here as soon as we can.” Barker said as Oliver laughed weakly again.  “But I’m not eager enough to not think it through.  There was too much running and not enough planning last night.”

“So you’re with the sarge?” Johns asked.

Barker shrugged.  “Like Hernandez said.  I’m a friendly, but our paths might split at some point.”

“Fair enough.” Peter said.  “So, here’s what I think we should do for the next couple of hours.  Let’s check some of the other units for things that we can use, food, weapons, and especially any way to communicate out.”

“So what are we looking for?” Smith asked.  “I mean about the comms.” he added hastily when eyes turned to him.  “Food, weapons, sure I get that.  I ain’t an idiot.”

“Jury’s still out on that.” Crawford muttered.  “Grab any cigarettes you find, I’m down to my last pack.” she said a little louder as Smith gave her a dirty look.

“Check any phone we find, mobile or land line.  If one’s working, we’ll use it.  I don’t know how likely we are to find one, but a satellite phone or a ham radio is probably what’s most likely to actually help us.” Peter said.

“Computers.” Mendez said abruptly.

“What?” Swanson said.

Mendez shrugged.  “Laptops will still work, at least if they’ve still got batteries.  Some of them might have an aircard or something.”

“Worth a shot.” Peter said.  “I figure we can start with the other units in this building, then maybe check some of the ones immediately adjacent if things are going well.”

“Okay, so by fireteams?” Hernandez said, rising and slinging his M-16 across his chest.

“Unless someone wants to sit out.” Peter replied.  “And I want to keep at least one team here in this apartment to hold the fort and act as a ready reserve in case someone has trouble.”

“Trouble?” Crawford asked moodily.

“Like we open an apartment up and find a bunch of zombies or something, right?” Swanson said, and Peter nodded.

“No sweat.” Mendez said.  “A few we can handle.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

* * * * *

Shouting drew Jessica’s attention from the laptop screen.  She looked up, saw her mother giving her the same expression of confusion, and quickly set the laptop on the table next to the recliner before jumping to her feet.  She couldn’t help but move quickly, hastily, as she crossed the living room and went through the entry hall to the front room.

Candice had paused her game, but was still on the floor in front of the television when Jessica appeared.  “Mom, what’s that?”

“I don’t know Candy Bear.” Jessica said, forcing a slight smile.  “Let me take a look.”

“I want to see.” Candice said, scrambling to her feet as Jessica bent next to one of the windows and lifted back the curtain.  Jessica said nothing, her eyes roaming across the cul-de-sac, searching for the source of the fuss.  She saw nothing at first, then, as she bent and leaned to her right to look up the street as best she could, saw several people out in the yard in front of a house.

“Jessica, what’s wrong?” she heard her father ask from behind her.

“I don’t know yet Dad.” Jessica said without looking away.  “A few houses down, across the street.  There are people out in their yard.”

She heard the deadbolt on the front door being thrown back, and straightened in alarm.  “Dad, what are you doing?”  She asked as she stepped back so she could see around the little bit of wall between the front room and the door.  Her father paused with his hand on the security latch, glancing at her.