Pandemic

EIGHTEEN.

The Hellfires had beautiful effect on target. The drone footage showed an aerial view of helicopters hovering in front of a large hospital, which exploded outward in a titanic blast.

Lt. Colonel Prince shook his pill bottle and heard the rattle of his last Advil. He slapped the capsule into his palm and knocked it back. He needed something stronger to dull the throbbing pain in his head. Much stronger.

The first wave of missiles ripped away the shell. The next brought it down. It was like watching a building get pounded into rubble by a giant’s fists. After that, the Apaches fired incendiary rockets to burn up anything still alive in the wreckage.

“Major Walker,” Prince said.

His XO was talking to one of the radio operators in hushed tones.

“Major!” Prince roared. “Un-ass that radio and get over here.”

The ability of the Army to function depended on following orders, explicit orders carefully designed by the chain of command. Sometimes, the orders sucked.

The alternative—to disobey—was far worse, particularly in a crisis like this. In the end, without discipline, they wouldn’t be an army. They’d turn into a rabble on a slippery slope to helping destroy what they sought to protect.

Walker stiffened and approached, looking pale and frazzled. The man was terrified of something.

Prince hesitated; he’d never seen fear wipe the smug look off his XO’s face. “Major, our aviation unit is engaging the targets designated in Operation Mercy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The OPORD specifically required boots on the ground.”

“Using the Tomcats accomplished the objective with less risk.”

“So you showed independent initiative.”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Outstanding, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Outstanding, Major, as in you are an outstanding fucking idiot.”

Walker flinched.

Prince continued. “Do you realize you just destroyed four civilian buildings? Deploying air assets I wanted to use against an arty unit that was doing the exact same thing? Air assets we need to bring in the Governor?”

“Sir, it was the best—”

“Are you also aware we are at the screaming edge with General Brock, who might not take kindly to wholesale destruction of city property? Do you know what the optics are on something like this? It looks like we declared war on the American people!”

“That doesn’t—”

“Did you at least evacuate any medical staff still on site, or did you just kill uninfected civilians? Doctors, for Christ’s sake—”

“We contacted each hospital and instructed them—”

“The whole world’s going to see this when CNN gets a hold of it!”

“There’s not going to be a CNN tomorrow!” Walker exploded.

All work in the command post came to a halt. The staff stared at them in wonder.

Prince blinked in surprise. For all his faults, the major thrived on order. He was loyal. He never lost his cool. He was too damned logical. He certainly never questioned Prince in front of the enlisted men under his command.

Prince tilted his head toward a corner of the room, where they could speak in relative privacy. Walker followed him there.

Prince said, “You’d better explain yourself, Major, because I’m about to land on you with both boots.”

“That city out there isn’t Boston anymore. It’s not even Afghanistan. It’s worse than Afghanistan. We need to change our thinking, or we’re done.”

Prince smoldered while the staff officers and sergeants continued to stare. He hated backtalk. He took it from Captain Lee, but he respected Lee. “Major Walker, I understand your concerns. We are overextended. But it’s not up to you. It’s not up to me. We have our orders. Having independent initiative to implement orders doesn’t mean you get to ignore them.”

“We’ve lost control of almost every single major city in the country, Colonel. We need to start thinking about taking care of ourselves.”

“What are you saying? We should mutiny?”

“I’m saying the optics don’t matter anymore. The infected artillery unit doesn’t matter. The Governor doesn’t matter. Going after them is just going to dig our hole deeper. The situation is changing by the hour now. We need to think about accomplishing our primary mission at the least amount of risk. We need to start thinking about the probability of collapse.”

Prince frowned. “Collapse.” He winced, as if the word tasted like crap. “Collapse.”

“Across the board. I’ve been in contact with other units around the—”

“Are you saying we should pull out of Boston and give it to the infected wrapped in a bow?”

Walker held his ground. “Affirmative.”

Prince growled, “We’re done here.”

“Sir, if we don’t—”

“Not another word, or I’ll relieve you. I swear to Christ, I’ll shoot you myself for cowardice. I’ll shoot you in the fucking head.”

A soldier burst into the trailer, laughing and crying. The staff sergeants leaped out of their chairs and backed away.

“I resign!” the man screamed. “I’m going Elvis!”

Prince pulled his 9mm from its holster and flicked the safety lever. Several men stood in his way. “Make a hole!”

Another enlisted man ran into the trailer, grabbed the first man, and pulled him out.

Prince, burning with rage, started to follow.

Walker blocked his path. “The man was just drunk, sir.”

For every physical casualty, there were two psychiatric ones. But it was no excuse.

“Get out of my way, Major.”

“I’ll get him squared away, sir.”

“You’re relieved. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

“Sir, there’s one more thing you need to know.”

“Be thankful I don’t throw you off the base and let the crazies have you.”

“Sir, listen to me. We’ve lost contact with Big Brother.”

The red mist dissipated. Prince’s headache returned full force. “What?”

“We’ve lost contact with Colonel Armstrong’s command.”