Petrovic started off with improving some of the defenses that were set up at the camp. He took full advantage of the two M9 ACE military bulldozers he had available, and very quickly cleared some area around the outer perimeter. According to the report, the two M9s were running from 6 A.M. to 9 P.M., only stopping to fuel up.
He must have gotten a lot of dirt pushed.
Petrovic had a skeleton crew providing security inside the camp while most of the soldiers got to work fixing the fencing. The major realized that the load on the fencing would strictly be human bodies pushing, so he had the brilliant idea of adding extra mass to the inside of the outer fence. Also, Petrovic was smart enough to know he had potential resources available, so he enlisted healthy civilians to help out.
They found time to train select civilians on the use of machine guns, radio equipment, military vehicles, and “various other skill transfer,” as the good Major termed it.
Theodore was impressed. The guy knew that he was toast, along with his remaining soldiers, and tried to pass down as much useful information to the survivors as he could. He was giving them a chance. That was medal-of-honor type behaviour, in Theodore’s opinion.
Wright deserved credit too. He’d sure made the right call by taking those two M9s.
Some time during the reading, Winston had come back and placed a cup of coffee on his desk. Theodore was so focused on the report that he barely registered it.
Petrovic described that night as “a hell of a night.” Everybody knew that once you got the Syndrome there was no coming back. He was proud of the soldiers, who turned themselves in and accepted their deaths. He also praised the spirit of the civilians, who seemed to accept that they were all in the same boat on this.
Petrovic scribbled one last entry that night.
The men shame me with their bravery. They accepted their responsibilities without complaint. They turn themselves in when the syndrome gets too bad, willingly taking a bullet so they don’t endanger their comrades or their charges.
All I can think of is Susan, and my little princess Cindy. Some of the men have left — no doubt off to find their Susans and Cindys. I do not blame them and have instructed the guards to let them go. Deep down I want to go too. Just writing this could be cause for court martial. But it seems more likely that this report will never be read by human eyes, for surely there is nobody left in charge. If there is, well, good luck court martialing the dead.
Theodore frowned at the passage, then slowly started to smile. This Petrovic would have been his kind of soldier.
The report was submitted the next morning. Theodore flipped back to the front of the report to catch the date: November 1.
A couple of days ago...
Theodore took a deep breath. He supressed the urgent need to find out what the current status of O-13 was. He pushed any thoughts about civilians still alive inside the fences and zombies pressing in from the other side out of his mind.
He took off his hat and ran a hand over his bald head.
It will be another couple of months before any hair grows back... And I’m still getting those damn headaches. Ah hell, Theodore; stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself. At least you’re not feeling exhausted all the time anymore.
With a small grunt, he got on with it. He placed the hat back on his head and picked up the next report.
It was a communique from another safe zone. Vega O-Four was located right between Richmond and Petersburg.
The communications team had done their best to produce a written transcript from the original radio message. Theodore scanned the header info.
Interviewee: Philip Morozov, Unknown rank
Interviewer: Hector Lazanni, Signalman
Next came the date and location. This communication had happened last night.
About as real-time as I’m going to get.
List of Acronyms: PM=Philip Morozov, IN=Interviewer
How the armed forces loved their acronyms. Theodore had been a slave to them himself for most of his career.
[Begin Transcript 19:28:10]
PM: (garbled) repeat. Our safe zone has been overrun. Requesting assistance or exfil.
IN: Unknown, please identify yourself and your safe zone.
PM: Holy shit! Sorry, just happy that somebody is still at HQ. I’m Philip Morozov. Safe zone V-04, that’s Vega-oh-four, in Austin, Texas. Our fences collapsed earlier today and a bunch of us locked ourselves into the administration building. Are there any military assets nearby? We urgently need assistance!
IN: I’m checking into that right now, Philip. Approximately how many people do you have over there? Our last count was just over a thousand people at your location.
PM: I’m not sure. We have *pause* about a hundred people in this building. There is a storage building next door, and there are people in there as well. At least twenty. We have also seen people on roofs of their units, and there are several people shooting weapons out of our line of sight.
IN: I am still looking into support for you folks. What can you tell me about the enemy—
PM: (overlapping) Zombies. They’re the fucking living dead.
IN: Yes. I apologize. Zombies. What intel do you have on them?
PM: they were stacked up on the fences at least five deep. There were only six of us [soldiers] left and we had even enlisted the help of a handful of civilians, but it (garbled) enough (...)
IN: Philip, I am initiating contact with two units in your area. I understand that you did not have enough firepower to keep the zombies from breaking down the fence?
PM: Yeah. (...) There’s only me and Carter left. I think Alvarez might be next door.
IN: Tell me how many zombies are out there, Philip.
PM: (garbled) of them. Thousands. (...) I don’t know if we have enough bullets.
IN: Are you in immediate danger or have you managed to secure your building?
PM: I think we’re safe for
