Sever, p.31
Sever, page 31
*****
08 November, 0921 hrs local
Texas Defense Zone
Ozona, Texas
“So that’s it, then?” Grayson asked skeptically.
“Looks like it,” Joe Cochran answered with a smile. “Those helicopters that the Army sent turned this thing around right quick.”
Grayson allowed himself to join the sheriff in a smile. After almost a week of constant skirmishing with the Herrera Cartel, the Army had finally been able to send three Apache helicopters from Fort Bliss in El Paso to support the operation against the drug lord’s men. They’d been down for maintenance issues and hadn’t been able to make the trip to the east with the rest of their battalion. Now that they were finally able to fly, they’d been sent to Ozona.
The helicopters provided close air support and hit the cartel’s forces with pinpoint accuracy that couldn’t be achieved with fighter aircraft. The jets’ show of force hadn’t done much to dissuade the Mexicans, but the bullets from the Apache’s 30-millimeter chain gun firing into their positions this morning had ended things quickly.
“Yessir, those cartel boys took off back toward the south and the helicopters cut ‘em down even as they ran. I guess that pansy president decided that he doesn’t want to have to fight them again in the future.”
Grayson thought about it for a moment. The men, even if they were retreating, were still an invading army on American soil who’d killed thirty-four citizens—that Grayson knew of. He would have done the same thing in the president’s place. “Good riddance. Have we been able to leave our defenses yet?”
“Yeah. We took over a hundred prisoners and seized a bunch of vehicles, though most of them are too busted up from the fighting to be of much good besides scrap metal.”
The commissioner glanced at the clock. “It’s awful early, but I think this calls for a celebration, Joe.”
Grayson turned to the small refrigerator in his office and produced a bottle of Texas white port wine. “Care for a glass of Texas’ finest?”
“You bet your rear end I do!” the sheriff replied leaning forward expectantly in his chair.
Grayson opened the bottle in silence and poured three fingers of the pale liquid into glasses. He handed one to Joe and raised his own glass. “Here’s to the defenders of Ozona!”
“To the defenders,” the sheriff answered and tapped his glass lightly on Grayson’s. He took a sip and leaned back in satisfaction. “I love the brandy flavor of this stuff. Makes it a lot better than regular wine.”
“It’s my favorite too,” Grayson confirmed. “So we’ve cleared the local area of the cartel, how far out into the desert have we sent our men?”
“Not far. The Apaches didn’t show up until this morning and they’ve only made a few passes around town. I want to be sure that they haven’t set some sort of trap for us before we send out the troops.”
Grayson nodded in agreement. He and Sheriff Joe had met the pilots at the football field at five-thirty to describe the cartel’s positions surrounding the town. It hadn’t taken them long to begin identifying targets, primarily because the Mexicans started shooting their rifles at the helicopters, which was a dead giveaway to where they were and never a good idea.
“I heard the gunships lighting up the attackers, but I didn’t think it would end so quickly.”
“Typical criminal thugs,” the sheriff snorted. “They thrive on terrorizing and threatening an unarmed population. Then when they face some resistance, they high-tail it out of the area.”
The phone rang unexpectedly and Grayson picked it up. “Donnelly.”
“Grayson Donnelly?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Please hold for the president.”
“Uh, okay…” He looked up at Joe, “It’s the president.”
“Well, put it on speaker, son!”
Grayson pressed the speaker button and set the phone down on his desk. After a moment, the president’s distinctive voice drifted from the speaker, “Is this Grayson?”
He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, sir. I’m here with Sheriff Joe Cochran who’s been leading the defense of the town.”
“Well good morning, gentlemen. I just got the good news.”
“I just got the word myself, sir. Seems like good news travels fast.”
“I’ve got my ways,” the president chuckled. “Congratulations on the victory.”
“Thank you, sir,” Grayson answered. “It was the sheriff and his men along with the soldiers that you were able to spare that helped keep us from getting overrun until the helicopters were able to show up.”
“Sorry about that, Grayson. I wanted to send more troops sooner, but those damned zombies have proven to be a big problem out east.”
Grayson swallowed hard. He knew the military sense that it made to face the greater danger first, but it had been his friends and townsfolk who’d suffered because of the decision. Even if he didn’t like it, he knew that it was the same decision that he would have made if he were in the president’s place. “We lost a lot of good people, sir.”
“I understand that, and I’m truly sorry. Please accept my sincere apology for the timing of everything. Make no mistake, those men and women who died are heroes. I’ve already asked my staff to begin preparing the appropriate documentation so everyone will know how much they contributed to the defense of our nation.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied.
“Listen, I’m proud of you—and of you Sheriff Cochran—you deserve to feel that pride as well. Both of you embody the American spirit.”
Grayson didn’t really know how to respond, so once again he said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Alright, I’ve got some other matters to attend to. The tide seems to be turning in the east and Crockett County will forever stand in the minds of our future generations as the place where ordinary citizens stood against an invading army and came out on top without the help of the most powerful army on the planet. Once again, great job, gentlemen. Goodbye.”
The phone went dead and Grayson lifted the receiver and placed it back on the base to turn off the speaker. “Well, that was unexpected,” he said with a quick sip from his glass.
“Unexpected, but classy,” the sheriff replied.
“Sheriff Joe, are you coming around to our president’s side of things?”
“Not a chance,” the older man replied. “He’s an idiot. Maybe he’s a classy idiot, but he’s still an idiot.”
Grayson smiled. He was glad to see that the past few weeks hadn’t changed the sheriff’s attitude or outlook on the world. The commissioner knew that the people of Ozona and Crockett County would eventually recover from their experiences and be stronger because of them. They’d stood up to an invading army and saved the nation from a blindsided attack to its underbelly. They were the true heroes.
*****
10 November, 1329 hrs local
Cleveland Public Auditorium
Cleveland, Ohio
Shawn weaved the old station wagon through the congested downtown traffic toward the auditorium where the refugee reception center on the outside of the city told him that Annie was housed. His hands were sweaty on the steering wheel as he thought about facing his daughter and answering her inevitable questions about Shana and he readjusted the rearview mirror to ensure that the backpack with the Ford Family photos was safe in the back seat for what must have been the hundredth time.
The trip from Pennsylvania had been a much longer journey than he or Maria had ever expected. They’d tried to make their way far enough north to get above where the zombies drove everything in front of them like he’d told Kevin and Lisa, but the roads became hopelessly blocked by residents who’d created barriers to protect themselves and their communities. They lost precious hours of travel bumbling along from blocked road to blocked road and had finally been forced to go back to Interstate 81 near Harrisburg. As they neared the city once again, they could feel the ground rattling from the massive fight that took place on the eastern side of the city. After wasting an entire day, they were able to get on Interstate 76 and then onto the 70 for the journey westward through the mountains.
The trip took almost six days of waiting just to make it through the Appalachian Defensive Line because of the crush of bodies trying to flee the zombie menace and all the soldiers everywhere, constantly checking and re-checking to make sure that nobody who made it through the security areas was bitten or trying to smuggle any zombie war trophies. He’d been scared to death as he stared down the impossibly large gun barrels that the tanks would get spooked about something in the crowd and fire into everyone.
Thankfully, that hadn’t happened while they were there. Once they made it through the gates into the holding area, things went faster for them, but all the inspections took forever and it took another two days to unfuck themselves on the western side of the defensive line so they could drive the rest of the way.
Shawn had maxed out his credit card paying for gas along the way, but the needle hovered just above empty and the low fuel light had been on for the last twenty minutes. Now that he was here in Cleveland, though, nothing would stop him from getting to his daughter today.
“There it is,” Maria said as she pointed to the auditorium.
He nodded and followed the signs to park the car, which died as he turned into the parking lot. “Outta gas.”
“It’s okay, babe. We’ll figure it out once you get Annie,” Maria assured him.
He nodded and leaned across, kissing her excitedly. Their relationship had blossomed during the long hours of boredom during the journey and he was eager to introduce Maria to Annie.
He put the car in neutral and they both pushed from their side of the vehicle. It was a maneuver that they’d become quite adept at during the days in the queue through the defensive line. It made more sense to just push the damn thing than waste the gas starting it. They let it drift the last few feet into a parking spot and Shawn put it back into gear and took the keys out of the ignition.
They jogged across the street holding hands and went through security to the ticket sales window where the children’s records were held. He stepped up to the counter and told the woman that he was here to pick up his daughter.
“What’s her name?”
“Annie Ford, from New Jersey.”
She scanned a printout and then made a checkmark next to Annie’s name. “Okay, fill these out,” the worker said as she handed him a stack of papers on a clipboard.
“Are you serious? I’ve come all this way to get my child. I’m not filling out paperwork before I see her.”
“Look, Mr. Ford, do you see my two heavily-armed guards over there,” she pointed to the soldiers that had patted him and Maria down when they entered. “You aren’t going to get your daughter out of this facility until I determine that you are who you say you are. Part of that process is matching up the forms that you filled out when you entrusted the care of your child to the United States Government.”
Her face softened and she said, “Look, I understand that you want to see your child. I assure you that she’s okay. Let’s just do this to cover both of our asses.”
“It’s okay, Shawn. We’ve waited weeks and been through… a lot,” Maria tried to calm him. “Let’s just fill out this paperwork. The sooner we complete it, the sooner we’ll see Annie.”
He nodded in frustration at the government’s efficiency and accepted the clipboard. Ten minutes later, the worker led the two of them through a set of locked doors into the auditorium. Cots and blankets littered the floor while children of all ages lounged in the seats surrounding the main floor.
As they walked down the side aisle, Shawn scanned the faces to find that of his daughter, but didn’t see her. Finally, they’d made their way across the sleeping area to a small side room. The worker opened the door into a modified classroom where a teacher was going over elementary math.
“Excuse me, Miss Henderschott. I’ve got a parent here to pick up one of the children.”
The teacher stopped and looked up. Before she could ask which parent was there, Annie jumped up and ran to her father. “Daddy!” she screamed and ran to him.
Shawn knelt and hugged his daughter like he was never going to let her go again.
*****
23 November, 1001 hrs local
Carroll Park
West Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The banging on the front door resumed again. The creatures had stopped trying to get in weeks ago and the old man hadn’t heard them in a long time. Now it seemed like they were back.
“What is it, dear?” his wife asked.
“I don’t know, Alice. I thought we were past the zombies trying to get in the house. We haven’t made any noise or anything, I don’t know why they’re back.”
The banging began to be more rhythmic than anything that the creatures had ever done and a metallic voice said, “If anyone is still alive in Carroll Park, this is the United States Army. We’re here to rescue you!”
“What did he say?” Marcus Miranda asked his wife.
“He said it was the Army!” Alice said. “Do you think it’s Mike?”
“Oh, don’t be a fool, woman. Our son is dead. It’s a miracle that we made it this long.” Marcus got down on both knees next to his bed and began to pray in thanks to God for their salvation. He’d reestablished his long-ignored relationship with the Lord during their captivity in the Philadelphia row home. Only Alice’s obsession with canned food and their slow metabolism had kept them from starving to death over the long weeks, but they were almost out of food and Marcus had been contemplating how to get more food without exposing himself to the creatures outside.
“Okay,” he said when he was done with his prayer. “Let’s go downstairs.”
It took them a little while to make it down the stairs, malnutrition was starting to settle in and take its toll on their old bodies. The knocking had stopped by the time they made it to the front door and Marcus could see a shadow retreating down the sidewalk.
He opened the door and shouted, “Wait! We’re here!”
The soldier turned around and Marcus was shocked to see a much younger version of himself staring back. “Dad! Mom!” Mike Miranda shouted as he ran toward them.
“Oh my God, son. You’re alive!” Marcus exclaimed and hugged his child.
“The same could be said about you, old man!” Mike said with a smile as he pounded his father on the back. “I saw the broken window and I feared the worst. I just couldn’t bring myself to go inside.”
“We’re safe now, son,” Alice answered and threw her arms around Mike’s waist.
It was a miracle that all three of them survived and Marcus offered another silent prayer of thanks.
*****
28 November, 1104 hrs local
KYXR Television Studio
Denver, Colorado
The lighting in the studio was dimmed slightly to allow for the proper setting befitting the President of the United States of America. The black velvet curtains that they’d hung behind both chairs had been meticulously cleaned and then arranged to maximize the different layers of light and shadow. A potted plant was strategically placed where it would be in the shot just over the president’s left shoulder to help break up the lines and add a dash of color. Everything about the interview setting was perfect.
Abigail Munroe had waited over a year for this exclusive interview with the president. They’d scheduled the interview more than six months ago and she was glad that he was able to keep to his calendar, even with the war out east. Abigail had been a staunch supporter of his during the election and had the honor of hosting the debate between then-Senator Wilson and President Holmes. Since then, her opinion of President Wilson had steadily declined as he made poor economic decisions followed by possibly starting a second zombie war when he invaded Washington to steal some old American relics.
She’d taken her initial set of questions and thrown the second half of them out the window. She wanted to take advantage of being the first reporter to conduct a one-on-one interview with the president after the end of major military actions in the east. The questions that she’d decided to ask would likely piss the man off, but it was her place as a journalist to ask the tough questions and not fawn all over the man like some type of sycophantic fool. If her interview went well, she could easily see her small Denver political correspondent position shifting to one of the major networks.
A Secret Service agent came through the doorway and stood just inside as the president walked in behind him. Mark Namath, the White House Chief of Staff, walked in after the president, followed by the president’s personal secretary Sarah Pendergraff and several more musclebound guys wearing suits and earpieces. The damn agents had been all over the studio for a week asking questions and scanning everything with little handheld wands. Abigail had even caught one of them going through her office trash one day. She was ready for them to just leave everyone alone and get out of her life.
“Good morning, Mr. President,” she said with a forced smile and an outstretched hand.
“Morning, Miss Munroe. I’m all ready to go and skimmed through your read-ahead questions. Did you have any last-minute adds that you want to let me know about so I can give myself a few minutes to prepare?”
“Oh, we’ll stick mostly to the script, but I do have a few unscripted questions that may come to me if we have time,” she replied. It wasn’t a total lie; they would have a few unscripted questions.
“That’s fine then,” the president answered. “Sarah, how long do we have?”
His assistant checked her watch and replied, “We have to leave here in thirty-five minutes in order to make it to the American Cancer Society luncheon, Mr. President.”
