Part One
Section Two
The doorknob slipped from her slender fingers as she stood with her back to him controlling the rising urge to tell him to go to Hell. Cambell watched, as she became ramrod stiff in stance before she faced him
“I’m sorry I thought the meeting was finished.” Dorian spoke curtly.
“Jacob and I will conclude our meeting later. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Interesting,” her eyes narrowed, “I thought you were done with me when you left in the middle of the night.”
“I can’t discuss this with you. I was given orders and had to leave that hour.”
“And waking me up to say, ‘I’ve been called away, don’t know when I’ll be back.’ That would’ve been to difficult.”
“It would have led to questions. Ones I didn’t have the time or answers for.”
Dorian sniffed at his response. “I knew you were in the military and I knew the deal. I just thought I might get a forewarning of the blow. That’s all.”
“Does it help to know that I was disciplined for trying to sneak out a letter to you to explain everything. The only reason why they didn’t court marshal me was because of my expertise.” He leaned back against the desk crossing his muscular arms across his broad chest.
Dorian tried to push down the memory of Cambell shirtless wearing only a pair of jeans doing her dishes in her little flat. The man had an abdomen rippled and ripped of solid of muscle. Her fingers clenched remembering the feel of his skin underneath her touch. She took a long hard deep breath and exhaled expelling the thoughts leading wayward.
“It’s a start.” She cocked her head to one side. “I think it would depend on how harsh the punishment was.”
“Harsh enough to make me wonder if you were worth it.” Cambell shot back.
“I would think I was worth a second try.” Her pert nose went up into the air.
“You were, and third, fourth and a fifth.” He heard a sharp intake of breath. “This is the sixth attempt at contact.” His hands fell to his hips and his gaze to the floor with a shake of his head. “I volunteered our squad for this assignment.”
Dorian remained quiet for a few moments as she absorbed what he was saying. Her anger boiled up.
“So you volunteered for this mission, so you could what?” She asked between clenched teeth, “Tell me that you can’t tell me why you left the way you did? Try to make me feel slightly guilty about some punishment you went through after ripping my guts out and spread them out for the crows to eat? Pulleeze, my compassion for your situation isn’t quite there.”
“Once my squad has secured the safety of their families and I have reviewed my orders, I will report back to you.”
“Have your squad ready for inspection at o’ one hundred.” Cambell stood up and moved behind the desk. He flipped open a file on his desk.
“That won’t give us enough time to secure the families.” She argued.
“I presume you have a plan in place for evacuations.” It was statement more than a question.
“Of course we do.” She retorted hotly, “But some have elderly relatives and more than one house hold to secure.”
“You’ve been given your orders Captain. I will only take moments of their time.”
“Yes Sir.” Hissed from her mouth before storming out of the office.
Omar stood waiting anxiously outside as Dorian came out. He approached her with his hands wringing.
“What is happening?” His brows were knit with worry.
She stopped and tried to give a reassuring smile but some how she didn’t feel it.
“Well, the Government just issued a Stage One Alert.”
“What is that? I have never heard of this.” His shoulders shrugged as waved his palms.
“It means that the bacteria has reached our borders. At this point you have the choice to evacuate the city or remain and bunker up your house with food and water. Stage Two Alert if it comes to that, is that the bacterium has reached our counties and we are to bug in. No movement or travel. Stage Three means it is mandatory evacuation to safe zones set up by the military. The inner city squads will be the ones to execute the evac if it comes to that.”
“And what here?” Omar was almost afraid to ask.
“I’m in Command, which means any shift changes, any transports or recievements must have my approval.” She put a hand on the scared man’s shoulder. “Go home Omar, get some sleep and we will discuss everything in the morning. We should have a clearer picture of the situation by then.” She dropped her hand back to her side.
“You will probably see my set up in the parking lot though.” Dorian referred to her truck and fifth wheel mobile home.
“I would feel much better knowing that you were parked out. Just no camp fires.”
“Right up until the Zombies come.” A grin spread across her face. “Then its pyromania, all the way.” She waved her arms and the contents of the folder she held fell to the floor.
Omar helped picked up the papers and an slightly worn brown envelope. “I think this belongs there too.” He held it out.
She recognised the scrawl of her former address even upside down. It was his handwriting. She took the envelope and crammed it into the folder trying to deny its existence whilst keeping her rousing curiosity at bay.
“Thanks. I’ll catch you in the morning.”
He gave her a nod and turned around heading to the door. He stopped just short of the exit and turned back looking out at the sales floor sadly as if he had lost his entire life in just a heartbeat. Dorian felt for the man. This couldn’t be easy for him she decided as she made her way to the nearest phone.
“Paging all night shift staff to the training room please. I repeat all night shift staff to the training room please.” The soft page cut through the air.
***
Cambell listened to Dorian’s voice over the intercom. Her voice was a little too calm for his liking. He gathered his papers and left the office for the safety of his own make shift one the military provided for field ops. He left the store and walked across the parking lot with thoughts of his first encounter with Dorian. Her anger he hoped was a good sign.
Gloomy clouds overhead threatened to hide the light of the moon leaving the parking lot in total darkness. The sound of his footsteps bounced off the pavement and into the thick night air. He had forgotten how hot the breeze coming off the prairies could be as he tugged at his shirt collar. Cambell surveyed the circumference of the parking lot and decided a chain link wall would be needed for security reasons.
Dorian, he surmised, was going to fight him every step of the way. A heavy sigh was absorbed into the night air. Did he really expect any less? She was hurt and angry and no less so than he would have been had the roles reversed.
“No blood.” His partner greeted him with a big smug grin on his face. “How’d it go?” The tall dark man observed and chuckled as he went back to the screen. “Now that I don’t need to call the medics.”
“Hostile.” Cambell answered tossing his files on the empty desktop ignoring the last taunt. He dropped back on to the makeshift sofa slash bed crammed against the walls of the shack. He was careful not to hit his head on the boards in case one fell out.
“Hostility is always a good sign in a woman. Right up there with disdain.” Alex smiled. “Why if you’re lucky she might fall head over heels in luke-warm like with you.” He leaned back in his chair folding his massive arms across his chest. “Tell me again why you volunteered us for this mission. Baby-sitting a small town isn’t up our sniper’s barrel.”
“It was this or Red Flag Labrador. I didn’t think the boys would appreciate the sub-zero summer temperatures even if they are above normal. I didn’t think I’d be face to face with Dorian.” Cambell raised up into a sitting position resting his forearms on his thighs. “I thought I could somehow explain it to her. You know, mend the bridge when I did"
A snort filled the room, “Buddy, you done blowed up that bridge.”
“From her reaction, it seems so.” He stood up and reached for a rancid cup of coffee.
After smelling the pot, he headed to the door and opened it. After checking for any possible victims, he dumped the coffee and watched it sizzle and bubble under the parking lot lights.
“I only made that an hour ago.” Alex commented.
“The water here sucks.” Cambell commented making a fresh cup of coffee. “Do we have an ETA of the equipment and supplies?”
“The supplies should be here tomorrow and the…” The door opened interrupting the answer, “equipment in three.”
“Wrong.” A hawk-nose, shifty-eyed wiry man corrected as he shut the door. “Try three weeks for the equip and four days before our supplies even hit the border.”
“Explain?” Alex looked at him expectantly.
“Somebody wasn’t doing their job again.” George reached past the larger man for the freshly brewed taking the first cup. “I mean, is it so hard to ensure that a request order gets issued sometime, you know, before the mission starts.”
“When did you find this out?” Cambell took a mug and filled it.
“Tonight at the Interior Mess, I ran into Rodney from the North East quadrant. He was the messenger.”
George pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to the Leftenant Major who took it. Read it and then crumpled it up then tossed it in the general direction of the waste paper basket.
“So where does that leave us?” Alex asked looking at the wrinkled ball on the floor.
“Blind.” George snorted. “And all Billy has leftover from the last mission, is headcheese and sardines, a ton of bread and a bucket of Mayo. And if we get thirsty, we have a shit load of blue H2 sports water.”
“Oh God,” Alex groaned clutching his stomach.
“Any surplus with the other quads?” Cambell asked.
The wiry man shook his head. “They are in the same boat we are. We at least have food.”
“If you want to call it that.” The darker man sat down his chair and faced his computer. “What about your team Alleycat in there.” He gestured towards the store.
“Doubtful.” Cambell answered. “All their wires are from us.”
“What’s a bunch of two-bit wannabe zombie squad night stockers going to have that the military doesn’t. For Christ Sake, they burnt down their own security shack.” George snarked reaching for the coffeepot. “This is good stuff.”
***
Dorian entered the training room to everybody waiting for her. The four backroom workers sat to her left, the four stockers with two maintenance workers on her right and her core squad leaning against the wall in the middle. She wondered how many would be left standing with her at the end of the meeting. They stared at her expectantly. Dorian wasn’t sure where to start.
“So what’s up?” Brindle asked after a long minute of silence.
The folder Dorian held went down on the table with the stockers and she took a deep breath. “We are in Stage One Alert. Only issued an hour ago. All civilian squads are now under the command of the military and that includes us.” Everyone groaned in reaction. “We knew this day might arrive when we signed up. At least we have back up because by the looks of them, we will be the ones leading the charge.” Dorian looked around the room before continuing.
“This is the point, before we get rolling, that any of you who do not wish to stay, now is the time to bug out. I have not submitted the list of our squad to our leaders. I know some of you have young families and some of you have family members who need aid.”
Nobody moved. Her sapphire eyes widened when a couple of the men just leaned back into their chairs.
“Okay then on that note, the next order of night, we have until one, to start the procedures of securing our families. At that time we are to meet with our esteemed leftenant major,” the words dripped with noticeable venom, “who has the need to inspect the troops. Once all families are secure, we are to meet back here and we will formulate our plans. Any questions?”
All but one shook their heads. An older woman with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes that held a concerned expression.
“Shoot Marion.” Dorian smiled
“Does this mean you want my rig?”
“Hell yes and you too!”
Another worry flashed in her eyes. Dorian knew immediately what her concern was. Marion’s mother was in her nineties and the rest of the family was more than a day’s car ride away.
“We will talk more in a minute.” She said to Marion glancing at the clock on the wall.
Time was precious and they couldn’t afford to waste any of it. “Take care of your families, please be back by at least quarter to one.”
Three men stood behind as everyone left. Dorian looked over at them.
“Well, we don’t have family to worry about so we were thinking…” Walt the older of the three began.
Taylor picked up where the first left off. “We though it would be an idea to set up camp out back, we’ve got our gear.” He was a cop by day and a stocker by night. Taylor was considered the most wanted, by single women at Alleymart and drunken teenage girls when in uniform.
“When the store closes, we can moved it all in and, you know, bug in.” The youngest of the trio, Jay spoke up. The three nodded in agreement.
“Go for it.” Dorian said before turning to Marion. She waited until the other three left the training room. “So it’s your mom right?”
Marion nodded, “I can’t leave her with a bunch of strangers.”
“Then bring her here. You’ll have your rig and the team will look after her. She will be safe with us and you won’t worry.”
“She might get in the way.” Marion warned.
“Look, if all else fails we will put her in charge of the boys.”
The older woman smiled at Dorian. “Where do you want me to park it.”
“Garden Centre. You can monitor our blind side. I’ll be the one around the corner.”
Marion shook her dark head. “I don’t know if the gear still works. I got the damn thing in my divorce settlement in exchange for the cash. Never marry a storm chaser. All that electricity in the air fries their brains.”
Dorian chuckled heading towards the door. She saw Taylor in the corridor leading to the back room. She called at him to wait for her.
A set of keys flew from her hands over to him. “Take the door for an hour?”
He caught the keys. “Yeah, just for you. Bringing in the rig?”
Dorian nodded turning to the exit to the front through the chemical department. “And parking it right up front and centre just to annoy the boys in cammo.”
***
“What about the Bedford squad? Don’t they have any surplus?” Cambell was wearing a line clean on the floor from his rapid pacing as he thought.
George was sitting puffing on a hand rolled cigarette on the edge of his leader’s desk. “No man, I already talked to Russ on my way over. They are just as blind and deaf as we are.”
“I’ll contact head command in the morning and see what can…” A disturbance outside stopped Cambell in mid-sentence.
Suddenly a very loud blast of a horn broke through the barrier of the shack and vibrated everything inside as though a shock wave had slammed into paper-thin walls. Once he recovered from the impact and regained his hearing, he reached for the door. Cambell could discern a female and a male shouting at each other over the rumble of a very big engine.
“Lady! You can’t bring that in here!” A loud voice penetrated the thick air just before the horn blew again.
“To hell I can’t. Move you’re ass before I run you over!” Cambell heard Dorian’s voice yell back.
“You don’t have authorisation! Now back it up!” Met his ears as he rounded the shack corner.
“I don’t need your authorisation! This is my command station, you idiot! Now move it aside soldier!” A truck engine revved.
Did he hear that right? Cambell stopped for a moment. She might have radar at least. He bolted for the main entrance into the parking lot with George and Alex in tow. A large black super-cab four by four with twinned tires on the rear was parked in front one of his men aiming a rifle at the driver. Its load was a fifth wheel the height and twice the length of a double-decker bus. He stopped short of the barrel of the rifle and lowered it.
“Stand down.”
“But Major…” The barrel went back up again.
Cambell pushed it down again. “Stand down soldier” was uttered through his teeth. “Keep it lowered and that’s an order.” He moved over to Dorian’s window.
“What the hell are you doing?” He demanded to know. The vein in Cambell’s jaw was twitching.
“Parking my command centre but your boy here seems to think I do not have permission. As Squad Leader may I remind you Major that I am to use all tools at my disposal. And this is part of my tool kit.”
“What does this do other than house you?” Cambell was getting annoyed with her attitude.
“Only watch weather, communicate with satellites, and track mobile masses like zombies.” Dorian could not keep the smugness out of her voice.
Just then, another horn blasted from behind. It sounded like a duck call in the middle of a tin can rattling marbles. Cambell stepped back to see what could be pulling up. This time the noise emanated from a beaten up motor home whose hood bounced as the engine geared down. A satellite dish barely hanging on to its base drooped over the driver’s door while the attenna on the passenger’s side was bent and pointing to the rear of the rig. It was the solar panels hanging from ropes off of the roof rack that made Campbell question what kind of set up these women had.