Search and rescue

You're still rubbing your eyes as you walk into the HQ building.

"Military personnel only," a GI says, blocking your way.

"He's practically a fucking war hero, private. Let him through," Betty berates the man.

The soldier reluctantly steps aside, and you enter the room. Captain Pacco stands at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to get situated.

"Good morning, soldiers," he begins. "I imagine you're all wondering what this meeting is about."

He pauses for a moment, scanning each of your faces. You all nod encouragingly, awaiting the topic of this meeting.

"As some of you know, the capital has been overrun. The safety and whereabouts of our government is unknown at best. As such, we are cut off from any and all forms of support, resupply, or reinforcement. For all intents and purposes, we are operating as a lone state. First Lieutenant Heyes here, has done a better job than we could have hoped for, setting up this base. With the influx of men and materiel, I believe we are ready to expand our operation. First and foremost, the horde is coming. We can't help anyone if we can't defend ourselves. So, the greatest effort will be put towards better fortifying our position. Secondly, every living breathing human being we bring into the base is one that can be trained to fire a gun in defense of the base. So, we're going to begin sending out teams to seek out these pockets of human resilience and bring them in. Now, these two objectives of course go in tandem with bringing more supplies into the base to support them. Any questions so far?" Captain Pacco says.

"What about reestablishing contact with military command?" a soldier asks.

...And that's how the rest of the morning goes.

Betty is actually put in charge of the search and rescue branch of the operation.

...And you're designated as her direct subordinate. You're fairly sure that Captain Pacco is trying to prove a point about the need to supplement military personnel with civilians.

"I'm not saluting you or calling you ma'am," you whisper into her ear.

"Don't make me court marshal you," she jokes.

Later that day, the two of you along with half a dozen other soldiers stand gathered around a large laminated map of the region. Several towns are marked with red X's, designating them as overrun.

"We're going out in groups of two," Betty explains. "Each group needs to hit up several different locations and report back. Knowing where people aren't is just as important as knowing where they are. We'll also be scouting for supplies and enemy concentrations."

"What if we need backup?" a soldier asks.

"If you need backup, then you're doing it wrong," Betty says. "Now, are we finished?"

"Yes, ma'am," the soldier replies.

"Good, now let's go," she says.

Locations are assigned and she turns and the two of you strid off towards your vehicle.

"God, we just got here and now we're leaving again," you say.

"Yeah, but you don't want to be cooped up there, digging trenches and piling sandbags. You belong in the field, with me," Betty says.

"God, yes," you say.

"So get over it," she says.

You start to say something, but you stop yourself. You can't come up with anything, so you end up shaking your head and smiling. You reach over and take her hand in yours. She squeezes it.

"Let's go kick some zombie asses," she smiles.

The ride out is uneventful. Your first stop is a small rural community. You park the humvee a half mile out, and quietly walk in on foot. The streets are empty. You can see that the citizens either left in a hurry or were eaten. You jot down a couple of notes in your pad and move on.

You continue on, quickly covering several miles. You don't find much of value, mostly empty houses and shops. You notice that the zombies are becoming much, much more numerous.

Speed is your greatest ally as you dodge the hordes of zombies. But Betty and your driving abilities are put to the test. You stay on the roads, but the open areas have hundreds of zombies walking, shambling, or getting stuck in the mud.

Your next stop isn't any better than the first. Several buildings along the mainstreet are burned out. The smell of cooked flesh pervades the town. You walk along the now-deserted street. You see the remnants of battle here: abandoned weapons and gear, and of course the shambling dead.

"Time to go," Betty says.

You nod and the two of you move on.

You drive for several more hours, stopping only to eat and to top off the gas tank from a jerrycan in the back. You finally reach the town of Wheaton, which is much bigger than any other you've seen today.

Peering through your binoculars, you can see several streets blocked off and people walking around inside.

"Bingo," you say.

You park discretely beyond the outskirts of town and head in on foot.

A pair of militiamen rush up to greet you.

"Hold it! Who are you?" one of them calls, holding a bolt action rifle.

"I'm a friendly," you say, holding up your hands.

"You look like a hostile to me," the man says, "What are you doing out here?

"Civilian, I'll blow your head off if you don't lower your gun," Betty says.

The man lowers his gun, "Sorry, ma'am. We're just a little on edge today."

"I'm Betty and this is Drako. We're on patrol from the base the military set up at Pikeville," Betty says. "Our orders are to evacuate everyone to the base. The horde is coming and you don't want to be here when it arrives."

"God damn it! That's exactly the sort of thing he said, they'd say!" the second militiaman says, raising his rifle.