Part One
Section Three
Cambell stared at the gleaming black truck and trailer parked twenty yards away from the doors of the store. Everything was black including the windows and light cover of the outdoor fixture. It was a good five feet off the ground and at least eighteen feet high. The radar dish, satellite dish and radio attenna added another eight feet not to mention the added height of the propeller wind generator that stood still at the moment. The pullouts gave it ample girth to its already wide body. What intrigued him though was the three pipes poking up from the roof. Two a quarter of the way from the back and another from the far side of the top. He only hoped it had the technical capabilities they needed for this mission.
“Looks like quite the rig.” George commented lighting a cigarette as he approached his commander. “The black looks nice and shiny but can it do what we need it to do?”
“Knowing Dorian, it will kick the ass from underneath what the we’ve got.” Cambell said dryly, “Take a look at the dishes?”
“What about them?” George lit a cigarette glancing upwards.
“Predator Spyware.”
“How the hell did she get a hold of that? The military can’t even afford it.”
“What can I say, she probably knew a friend of a friend.” Cambell shrugged.
“I guess you’re going to have to be extra nice to the little lady.” The wiry man grinned at his superior. “Seeing as we have another delay in the shipment. Something about the truck hitting a speedbump and losing an axle.” He shrugged. “The usual military crap.”
Cambell ignored the barb and wondered just how the hell Dorian acquired her set up. It was going to be one of the first questions he asked her. Until the moment occurred, he would have to concentrate on the encampment locations for those who remain behind.
George threw his cigarette to the ground. “That was some meeting last night. I’ve never seen so much attitude in one room before.” He shook his head, “I thought your boss said this was the elite? Ya know, the top guns, best of the best?”
A dark head nodded wondering what George was leading up to. The wicked glint in the man’s eyes put Cambell on edge.
“Yeah…well… ya know they burned down their security shack?” A chuckle followed.
“Ya gotta love women eh?”
“Actually it was the men that lit the shack on fire. It was the women who put it out according to the report.” Cambell let George in on the information.
“The men…Ha ha ha” The chuckle turned into a laugh, “that’s even better.” He walked away snickering to himself.
Cambell thought to the previous night’s meeting with her team of misfits. They leaned against the wall in a line slouched, yawning, arms crossed, looking bored and glaring at him for the interruption. And that was just the women, the men at least gave him a nod before standing off in the corner and obviously sized him up. One strolled in late. They didn’t look or act like the elite team that was described to him.
The men six in all at least focused on what Cambell had to say. The nine women, Dorian included were the attitude problem. They were all going to resist any order he gave. He realized at the meeting anything said was going to have come from their Captain and that was Dorian. He knew that she was going to be trouble enough without the back up of eight other women.
Each of the nine women had their own responsibilities within the squad. Cambell shook his head at some of the titles, Data Analyst and Uniform Coordinator was one soft-spoken member of the team. He recalled her name as Anna. Another was the Weapons Analyst and Inventory Specialist; a larger robust woman called Marly who worked with another who wore her hair in a long braid who was the Armament Captain.
A long sigh was pushed from his lungs. Dorian managed to cover all her basis. The men were the In-store defense team with some young guy named Taylor or Tyler as the Lead. It was the men who also ensured the squad was fed while training. It would be they who kept the Squad going during the initial engagement.
Dorian was in the middle of explaining whom everyone was a young woman with raven silk hair and bewitching indigo eyes wandered in and took her place against the wall.
“This is Patients. She is in charge of the North blind side Defense. She, Marion” An older dark hair woman was pointed out, “who is Garden Centre South side Defense and I work together. ” She looked over to her. “Did your Grandpa let us have the bunker?”
“Yep and he is here to help us. He is the one who built it, I just drive it.” She gave a wide grin. “And it’s detachable from the pick up so we have medical transport if you need it.” She looked over to an older woman with long auburn hair wearing stilettos.
“How about from the field to the on-site medical centre? A sturdy tall lady asked.
“This is Dawn. She is the Field medic and Jenny is the Medical Captain. They work as a team with Taylor.” Dorian explained. “They have their first aid tickets. Jenny has studied for years on holistic and natural healing. With our limited supplies this will be an asset.”
“Who is your Front line Defense?” Cambell asked.
“That would be Brindle.” Dorian gestured. “She is also the team trainer.”
“She will need to meet with my Captain, Alex. They will be working together coordinating our fronts.”
Dorian glanced up to Brindle who was frowning.
“We have training tomorrow at eleven PM sharp.” Dark eyes glared at Cambell. “That includes your guys too. Welcome to Vamp hours.”
A sharp whistle broke into his thoughts. George was waving at him with one hand and holding a portable receiver in the other. Campbell took his time walking over to the shack. He wasn’t in the mood for any more good news.
***
The red numbers on Dorian’s clock glowed one-o-clock in the afternoon over head of her computer where she dropped the file folders Cambell gave her. The unopened envelope slid across the smooth oak desktop. Dorian stared at the thick packet debating whether or not to open it. Exhaustion won out over her curiosity.
It had been a long night in the back room sorting the overstock and bulk foods into rations for both the public and the squad. Skids of water, salt, tinned goods and what ever else they thought that the public would need in addition to the official military list, were pulled to the floor. Blankets, Camping gear, cook stoves, and lanterns were replacing non-essentials on the shelves. Ropes and tarps filled an entire ten-foot aisle.
Anna helped ensure their systems for tracking by radar and satellite any mass movements was up and mobile. She and Taylor worked together securing the link up between the store and each of its defense points. Everybody else was scrambling for the on-slaught of people that would be coming through the doors once they were aware of the alert. And that was only the first half of the night,
The second half was spent turning the back training room and offices into a make shift medical centre with cots, pillows and blankest for the patients’ comfort. Dawn and Jenny put together medic-kits for the field and took inventory in the pharmaceutical department for stock needed.
In the produce section of the back warehouse, is where Walt decided the kitchen should be. The fresh vegetable prep room had sinks and counters. It was also conveniently located right next to the meat, dairy, and the produce coolers with ample room for rations and leftovers. The outside receiving dock was a perfect spot for the barbecues and propane cook stoves. He and his team of two, gathered cookware and supplies for the galley.
Before she could even contemplate a cup of coffee she had to meet with day staff and Omar. It was the latter of the two she dreaded.
“What happened to my store?” were his first words looking around.
“Your store is now a military zombie squad base. The public has been notified of a stage one alert, which means, within…”Dorian glanced up at the clock at the front of the store, “twenty-one hours they have to either leave the county or bug in.” She saw a confused expression cross his dark eyes, “Meaning Omar you stay put. You have until a Stage Four Alert is called to leave.’
What happens at a Stage Four?”
“Once a Stage Four Alert is called, it means you are in an engagement field and you can’t leave your home until the all clear if there is one.” She explained. “Supplies are going to be essential and there has been rations set in place as issued by the military. As you can see by the gathering crowd, when this store opens today and tomorrow until noon, we need to ensure the customers have what they need”
She handed her boss a sheet of paper. “Each of your Day staff has been given a list of rations for each customer. The Major’s men will ensure the rations are followed an will be inspecting the contents at the door.”
“What about us?” Omar asked.
“We already have everything and a couple of extra’s set aside for the staff courtesy of Head Office” She handed him the memo from the previous night. ”Our rations will have to be shared with the boys in cammo, as they won’t be getting any supplies. I’ve been contacted by General Greenwall and unfortunately this time the military is relying on us.”
“We have two trucks incoming with consumables. I have been told that all others have stopped as they are not essentials.” Omar told her.
“Those are ours.” Dorian pointed to the second paragraph of the note. “Part of it is the rations for the reserves.”
Omar nodded and looked over to his exhausted night supervisor. “Go get some sleep and remember,” He grinned at her, “No campfires.”
***
Dorian and Brindle stood off to the side as everyone lined up in the front of the store in the parking lot for training. Dorian kept looking down to her clipboard looking anxious. Anna was sitting at the command station monitoring the systems to make sure that any glitches would be found before a strike occurs. Cambell and his first, Alex stood by their shack as his men lined up in military fashion. It was beginning to look more like a battlefield than a training ground as the two sides filled up. Dorian’s team of misfits dressed in track pants and oversized hoodies soon out-numbered the boys in cammo.
Glancing down at her watch, Brindle took a step and gave a nod. The squad lined up in a stiff and rigid row as Brindle started her inspection. At the end of the line she turned and gave the boys from the military a shake of her head. Her hands went to her hips and her dark eyes rolled into the back of her head.
“Now who is going to explain to me, just how in the hell are you going to kill a zombie with a gun?” Her arms folded in front of her ample chest and her foot started to tap. “Well, come on now, whose it gonna be?”
She looked directly at George who squirmed a little under her glare. He cleared his throat.
“Our supplies are enroute and we haven’t received the proper weapons yet.” He explained.
“Unsatisfactory.” She scolded, “To kill a zombie, you need blades. Look around you, everything you have can be turned into a blade. Their flesh if you can call it that rips apart easily so it doesn't have to be razor sharp. Don’t you guys read your memos?”
She abruptly turned around and pulled a whistle from her pocket. The squad immediately tuned on their heels and began a walking a circle. They all rocked in a slow pace from the heel of their feet to their toes using their arms to keep the flow and balance. The circle was timed as Brindle walked along side in the same manner checking the band on her wrist for the timing.
Alex gave Cambell a nudge when a young lithe woman rushed up to Dorian. She looked like she was frantically explaining something to her lead. A few words were exchanged and the young woman joined the rest still circling.
“Good morning Sabrina, glad your here.” Brindle glanced over to her, “Two more round to limber her up.” The ring of women groaned in response.
Dorian turned and began to approach the two men watching the show. Cambell noticed and met her half way, as the circle became a line of jumping jacks almost in unison. He stopped to watch as the newest edition lagged behind on every jump. His head was shaking when he met her piercing blue eyes.
“Who is that one?” Cambell asked about Sabrina.
“That would be our little secret.” Dorian grinned glancing to his men still standing gawking and snickering. “They are supposed to be training.”
Cambell sniffed. “Training? Right now I see aerobics.”
“It’s called the warm up.” Dorian’s eyes became ice chips. “You and your men are on our time, in our turf and will bide by our training. You are no longer in the military, Major Blair; you are now in a zombie squad, which does not adhere to the strict regulations of the military. Get your men in there or else.”
“Or else what?” Cambell challenged back; “The military does not fall under the control of a civilian zombie squad.”
“It does when the squad is providing the military with the maps, data, food, provisions and weapons. No doubt your boys will want a shower and a blanket too.” She handed him a sealed envelope. “Sorry, this came for you via our satellite. It’s from General Greenwall with approval from General Thompson,” Dorian almost sounded apologetic. “Anna decoded it twice to ensure she had it right.”
Cambell hesitated for a moment before taking the envelope. He had a foreboding feeling that he was going to be lynched by his troop for volunteering for them this mission. He took the envelope, ripped it open, read it then swore a blue streak.
“This is a bloody hostile take over!” He crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground.
“Whether you like it or not Major, your following our instructions and right now your men need to be training for field battle of zombies.”
“My men,” hissed Cambell through his teeth, “are hard seasoned warriors. The walking dead are not going to be a problem.”
Dorian cocked her head at him, “Really?” She gave a little smile, “Let’s give it a test, shall we.” She turned abruptly on her heel.
“Hold up!” She yelled out. Everyone turned to Dorian. “Anna!” She hollered at the top of her voice.
A dark head popped out, “Yes?”
“Simulation Four dash eight nine please. Basic on the first round and tanked up on the second run.” Dorian instructed.
“Are you sure?” Anna asked. “Do you want visual and audio?”
“Yes, plus doomsday effect and add squad analysis on both simulations.” She turned to the boys in cammo who out of curiosity had edged closer. “Let’s play a game. The loser takes the first shift security watch.”
“What’s the game?” George asked.
“Very simple. Kill the zombies. A loud bell will ting and the zombie you are fighting will disappear if you win, a buzzer will sound and the zombie you are fighting will cloak you like a blanket thus indicating you are now a zombie. Virtually of course.” Dorian added. “Bullets don’t work and improvisation is the key.”
“Piece of cake. The boys will kick ass.” George boasted.
“This is a team game, all play.” Brindle approached with what looked like arm guards and leg shields.
Dorian traded her the clipboard for the gear. “When it come to an attack, this isn’t war boys, this is survival.”
Cambell as he neared called his troop over. They stood huddled like a football team strategizing their play. They broke apart after a minute or two and he gave Dorian the nod. She could see he wasn’t sure what to expect. Some how having Leftenant Major Blair on edge gave Dorian some satisfaction.
She glanced to Brindle who put a whistle to her mouth and blew hard on it. The squad of women moved back against the wall of the store to watch the boys in cammo. All except for Marly who stood waiting for Dorian.
“Why are you making us do this?” she questioned. “It’s not fair.”
“We need to see what they can do before we start training. This is a good way to test them.”
“Yeah but I’m worried about their fragile egos, when we beat the crap out of them.” Marly said earnestly staring at the men placing themselves in a flank. “Especially that George.”
“I think their egos will be fine once they have learned they are no longer in familiar surroundings with Zombie Combat.” They joined the other women.
The parking lot lights went out and the storefront lights went black. The simulation started with the moans and groans of the zombies heard when they approach in masses. Lightening cracked over head spotlighting briefly the enemy.
“What the hell is this?” George asked loudly.
“Poor little man, he is the first go.” Marly shook her head in disappointment.
“He is feisty.” Dorian reminded her.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t under estimate him.”