The call ended. But not before they agreed to be in contact again the following evening at the same time and on the same frequency. The room was abuzz with the news, and several people were struggling with what to do. Some wanted to batten down the hatches and stay at the school, while others were ready to mount a search and rescue mission immediately. Most people were undecided. The conversation was going nowhere.
“Keep in mind, that we would have five more mouths to feed. That is if we even manage to bring these folks here. And can we really trust these people?” Joe stated, to the hearty agreement of a few others.
“Wow, Joe. You’re a real fucking hero, aren’t you?” John was shaking his head, the expression on his face one of distaste and contempt.
Joe’s eyes flared and the big man bristled. John continued before he could say anything though.
“Tell me something, Joe. Do you actually trust any of us?”
“People have to earn my trust, so no, I don’t trust everybody here. Especially white folk with superior attitudes!”
“Hold on Joe, this isn’t about skin colour.” Keith stepped into the argument. At the same time Christine and Rachel were pulling Joe back.
“Let it go, dad.” Christine said to him softly. “He ain’t worth it, Joe.” Rachel added.
“Please people!” Nancy called. “Can we just talk about this in a sensible fashion, like adults? John, that was uncalled for. I believe Joe was trying to protect our group.”
She continued even as John was opening his mouth to argue. “And Joe! How dare you pull a race card! Shame on you! You need to be bigger than that.”
That took the stinger out of the argument. Joe and John both looked uncomfortable and apologetic at the same time. Their eyes met for a quick second and John gave a small shrug.
The group continued to discuss the Willemtown situation, but consensus was never reached. People ran out of steam after a while and the arguments were becoming half-hearted.
Craig broke the impasse, if only temporary. “We can’t do anything today, even if we wanted to. It’s dark outside. Guys, maybe we should sleep on this and talk it over again in the morning.”
A few people nodded. Even the people that were up for action had to reluctantly agree that this would be the best decision for now. Within minutes, most people left the radio room. Some went off to bed, while others went in search for an evening snack in the cafeteria. Ethan stayed behind, in hopes that more radio contacts would be established.
JACK TOOK THE NEXT shift on the radio, but his hour of searching was fruitless. Emily went next, and also came up empty. There were still lots of positions on the dial to be explored, so they did not give up just yet. Emily went downstairs to fix herself a cup of tea as Joe took over again. Jack was contemplating heading off to bed himself when suddenly Joe got a hit on the radio.
“Unknown, this is Whiskey Alpha Romeo. Please identify, over”
Joe looked at the receiver with wide eyes for a moment, before bringing the mike to his mouth.
“Whiskey Alpha Romeo, this is Romeo Echo November, how do you read.”
“Romeo Echo November. What the fuck is that? ... You’re not military, are you. Over.”
Joe looked embarrassed for a moment. “Um, no. We are not military. Over.”
“Romeo Echo November.” There was a long pause. Joe was about to speak when the other person continued. “Is that Ren. The Renaissance. That school! Hey! Is that Emily’s crew? Over.”
“Go get Emily! And the others!” Joe ordered his son. Ethan was out the door in a flash.
“Yes, we are Emily’s ‘crew’. Whom am I speaking with? Over.”
The sound of a chuckle could be heard on the other end. “Why this is General Esteban Garcia, of the United States Army!” Some more chuckling could be heard. “Over.”
Joe recognized the name and voice. “Hey, you’re Garcia – you’re that soldier from the bus!” Joe had no idea what to say next. “Over.”
“No fooling you. Over.”
Joe was trying to think of what to say next when Emily came bursting into the room. Joe stood up and offered her the operator’s spot without hesitation.
“It’s that Garcia soldier.” He said to her as he handed her the microphone.
“Garcia? This is Hill. Over”
“Ah! Emily. HAH!” Emily could almost picture Garcia fist-pumping the air on the other end.
“How are you holding up?” Emily frowned as Garcia broke radio protocol.
“Um, we’re doing well, Garcia. All safe. What is going on with you. You sound... odd. Over.”
There was a slight pause. Several more people had made their way to the media room. There was a buzz of excitement as the news spread.
“I... I’m dying, Emily. The syndrome has wiped us out. And I mean every one of us!” That last was said almost as if it was a laughing matter.
Garcia continued. “When we got here there were close to two thousand troops. We were taking names and kicking ass. A couple of helo crews even managed a rescue mission. Those Marines pulled some radio jockeys out of that place.” Garcia didn’t elaborate further. It sounded to Emily like he was deliriously ranting.
“Where was I? ... Oh yeah. Anyway, most of us were already hurting from HAPS though. Oh, right. ‘The Syndrome’, that’s what we call it now. Sounds pretty nasty, don’t it?!”
“We lost a bunch of guys that night. The next day, we rolled out and probably a third of the guys had died overnight or were too sick to go.”
“Matheson! That guy had a plan though! Or maybe it was Shaw... Anyway, they had the healthiest guys posted at every tent. If a guy was looking really bad, they... took care of it.”
People looked at each other in shock at this news. Garcia was breathing heavily but continued.
“Yesterday we still managed to take out thousands of those things. Man, we had some good shooters in our outfit! Headshots.” He seemed to
