the men and women who had been killed under his command: seven more at the roadblock. He and every other soldier in the convoy had learned to shut most of the grief out, but it always tickled at the back of their minds. There was no family to tell, and no remains to send home, just the emptiness that each man or woman left behind, and the gnawing guilt that they now numbered among the enemy.
“Do you think we could have helped any of those people?” Specialist MacAfee‘s voice rang out across the communications relay. Someone always broke the silence when the convoy hit a quiet patch. Being alone with one’s thoughts for any length of time was too much to bear for most people.
Pam adjusted the global positioning system on her laptop. “This is wrong; the road is blocked up here. Keep straight.” She instructed Carl, before responding to Specialist MacAfee. “The only way to get to the fleet is if you’ve been cleared by a DDC doctor. It looked like about half those people were bitten, and even if we somehow found the ones who weren’t and gave them a ride…they’d be turned away at the docks anyway.”
“We coulda taken them to a DDC and then back with us.” Private Barona’s voice came back.
“Why do you think we have orders not to do that?” A hint of anger rose in Pam’s voice. “Did you hear what happened in convoy six? Picked up a family on the road with four young kids – looked unhurt, desperate, just like everyone else out here. The dad had a hidden bite. He turned JUST as they got to the DDC and attacked the driver. The hummer went right through a fence, killing the crew and punching a hole big enough for every goddamn WD in the city to walk through. Lost the whole DDC and half the convoy…those are innocent people who died because some driver felt sorry for a complete stranger. I don’t like what we have to see on this job, but we have to do it and we have to do it the way we’re supposed to do it…or bad things happen.”
Stillness reigned for a few minutes, while the convoy team observed their surroundings. The area was once a middle-class neighborhood where the blue light of dawn would normally bring the rush of school and work. Instead, lawns that should have been finely manicured were overgrown, and garbage piled high on the sidewalks. Vehicles littered the streets, and every house hinted at a tragic story. The words “dead inside” were scrawled on a garage door. A sport utility vehicle was wrapped around a tree, dried blood on the windshield. A toddler’s tricycle sat motionless in a driveway, and missing person’s signs covered telephone poles and trees. As they passed through an intersection, they saw a roadblock flanked by sandbags. The fortification was abandoned, and two machine guns sat pointing at the sky. A half-dozen corpses lay scattered about the ground, and a single walking cadaver in military uniform leered at them as they drove by.
“Did you hear what happened to Convoy Twenty-Six?” Miguel’s voice cast out over the network. Soldiers couldn’t help but pass the time by sharing stories – horrible as they might be.
“No, what?” someone’s voice asked inquisitively.
“They got to their DDC and started loading up people and supplies. They didn’t know it, but a group of armed civvies had taken over the place. So when the crews were out of their vehicles, the civvies ambushed them.” Miguel continued.
“Man…” someone interrupted. The thought that they could be walking into just such a trap, did not appeal to anyone.
“So the remains of Twenty-Six starts heading back to the dock and gets to the checkpoint. Of course, they don’t have the pass code – probably didn’t even know there was a pass code. Control turns them away, but they decide to keep on going.” Miguel stopped, letting the anticipation build.
“What happened?” Another voice shot back, unwilling to let the story end without closure.
“What do you think happened? We’ve
“Do you think we could have helped any of those people?” Specialist MacAfee‘s voice rang out across the communications relay. Someone always broke the silence when the convoy hit a quiet patch. Being alone with one’s thoughts for any length of time was too much to bear for most people.
Pam adjusted the global positioning system on her laptop. “This is wrong; the road is blocked up here. Keep straight.” She instructed Carl, before responding to Specialist MacAfee. “The only way to get to the fleet is if you’ve been cleared by a DDC doctor. It looked like about half those people were bitten, and even if we somehow found the ones who weren’t and gave them a ride…they’d be turned away at the docks anyway.”
“We coulda taken them to a DDC and then back with us.” Private Barona’s voice came back.
“Why do you think we have orders not to do that?” A hint of anger rose in Pam’s voice. “Did you hear what happened in convoy six? Picked up a family on the road with four young kids – looked unhurt, desperate, just like everyone else out here. The dad had a hidden bite. He turned JUST as they got to the DDC and attacked the driver. The hummer went right through a fence, killing the crew and punching a hole big enough for every goddamn WD in the city to walk through. Lost the whole DDC and half the convoy…those are innocent people who died because some driver felt sorry for a complete stranger. I don’t like what we have to see on this job, but we have to do it and we have to do it the way we’re supposed to do it…or bad things happen.”
Stillness reigned for a few minutes, while the convoy team observed their surroundings. The area was once a middle-class neighborhood where the blue light of dawn would normally bring the rush of school and work. Instead, lawns that should have been finely manicured were overgrown, and garbage piled high on the sidewalks. Vehicles littered the streets, and every house hinted at a tragic story. The words “dead inside” were scrawled on a garage door. A sport utility vehicle was wrapped around a tree, dried blood on the windshield. A toddler’s tricycle sat motionless in a driveway, and missing person’s signs covered telephone poles and trees. As they passed through an intersection, they saw a roadblock flanked by sandbags. The fortification was abandoned, and two machine guns sat pointing at the sky. A half-dozen corpses lay scattered about the ground, and a single walking cadaver in military uniform leered at them as they drove by.
“Did you hear what happened to Convoy Twenty-Six?” Miguel’s voice cast out over the network. Soldiers couldn’t help but pass the time by sharing stories – horrible as they might be.
“No, what?” someone’s voice asked inquisitively.
“They got to their DDC and started loading up people and supplies. They didn’t know it, but a group of armed civvies had taken over the place. So when the crews were out of their vehicles, the civvies ambushed them.” Miguel continued.
“Man…” someone interrupted. The thought that they could be walking into just such a trap, did not appeal to anyone.
“So the remains of Twenty-Six starts heading back to the dock and gets to the checkpoint. Of course, they don’t have the pass code – probably didn’t even know there was a pass code. Control turns them away, but they decide to keep on going.” Miguel stopped, letting the anticipation build.
“What happened?” Another voice shot back, unwilling to let the story end without closure.
“What do you think happened? We’ve
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