Our platoon was placed in isolation for a week and we were tested for infection. Initially we were in a wing of the hospital, but it was not large or secure enough so we moved to a hangar in the airport. The next day, another group of soldiers joined us. They had encountered a similar group of infected fighters closer to Jackson, and the enemy had burned a farmstead to the ground, slaughtered a family.
Because I was in isolation, I learned that Arthur had flown to Anchorage with the Governor. They had returned with the promised plane but nothing else.
Hawk flew Abe in to Jackson Hole to help since he was our top expert on Tarantula. I saw him several times a day, always dressed in a white haz-mat suit. He took blood samples and performed chest x-rays.
“Clean bill of health,” he said finally. “Everyone is clear.”
I took my leave of the men and caught a ride with Abe back into town in a rusted old Jeep Cherokee.
“So what are you thinking?” I said as we bounced along.
“I'm not sure,” Abe replied. “I don't know if Gideon is just using these guys like bio-terrorists, just trying to get into our heads and scare us, or if it's something worse.”
“Worse?”
“Like is this a new strain we're seeing, is this something new he's playing with?”
“You can't tell?”
“No,” he said. “It's frustrating. We just don't have the equipment. I need an electron microscope, test subjects, and more time. But it looks like the same fungus. Autopsies showed the same symptoms— imminent respiratory failure and brains that were full of toxins.”
“But our vaccines protected us?”
“As far as I can tell, yes.”
We passed through town on our way to the “Bat Cave,” as the command bunker came to be called, and the streets were deserted, windows boarded and doors barred.
“I really wonder about bringing a child into this world,” Abe said. “I truly hoped that we'd learned a lesson after The Fall.” He shook his head. “We didn't learn anything.”
“We'll get through this,” I said.
“Will we? Maybe. And then what? In ten years another madman comes along to finish the job?”
“We've got to try,” I said.
“Of course we have to try. I'm just tired of it. And scared like I've never been scared before. I'm not about to roll over and die, I'm just raging at the world. I'm angry at people.”
“There have always been bad men,” I said. “History is full of them, especially the ones that managed to grab power. But our past is also full of triumph.”
“And bloodshed and insanity,” Abe scoffed. “Men are killers. We crawled up the food chain by killing and we can't seem to stop. Look around, William, do you see triumph? There were seven billion people on the planet and now we're in the millions. Look at the United States, great bastion of freedom and all that is good. It doesn't even exist. We're still destroying ourselves.”
“I know. Still, there are more good people than bad.”
Abraham snorted. “I'm not so sure about that. Gideon and his ilk outnumber us. What does that say?”
“That people are easily led,” I replied. “That people are foolish and selfish. It doesn't make most of them evil.”
“And you can still say that after what they did to Grace? After what they did to you?”
I felt like I had been slapped. Abe was not the kind of man to push buttons and his heart was as gentle as anyone I had ever known. I sighed.
“Fair question,” I said. “I stick to what I said. I'm angry. I want blood. I just happen to think men are better than that.”
“Look,” Abe said. “I don't mean to seem like I'm attacking you. It's just that having a child, it changes things. How you look at things. I know you know that. I don't see how you're functioning.”
“It hasn't been easy.”
“That kind of loss…” Abe said. “I couldn't go on. I really couldn't. I guess then I would roll over and die.”
“For now let’s focus on the living,” I said. However, his words resonated, and in a way I felt I had been arguing with myself. I wanted to believe what I said.
*
I joined Chilli, Colonel Dan, Hawk, and Abe in the main briefing area. Hawk informed us there had been another attack on the edges of town by armed infected men. This time, one of them was captured alive.
“They're bringing them in on helos,” Hawk said. “Just letting them loose and telling them to try to get into town and kill as many people as they can.”
“How are they infected?” Abe asked.
“Gideon is doing it to them on purpose,” Hawk said. “Some religious mumbo jumbo about getting into heaven and being a martyr. These guys volunteered.”
“Word has gotten out,” Hawk continued. “People are scared. It's hurting morale and production.”
“I think we should start our attack,” Colonel Dan said. He raised his bushy eyebrows and put extra gravel in his voice when he said “Hit 'em now with air. Our armor is in position. It'll show our people we're hitting back, take their minds off the terrorists.”
“I agree,” Hawk said. “What do you think?”
It was unanimous. Hawk and Colonel Dan laid out the battle plan, outlining objectives and contingencies. Jackson itself would be protected by missile crews and several hundred seasoned soldiers, and the general civilian population armed with hunting rifles and handguns. One of our three F-22 Raptors would remain on station to provide constant air cover. The train was on its way back, loaded with weapons and ammunition.
My job was to take and hold the Dugway Proving Ground until Chilli could link up with me.
“Now I'm aware that this looks good on paper,” Hawk said, “and that doesn't count for much once it starts. I always hated the Pentagon and a bunch of desk jockeys sending men to die in stupid ways that sounded good in a warm room far away from the killing.” He took a drink from his coffee mug. “Now I guess we're the Pentagon. Difference is, we're all going to be on the field.”
The meeting ended after night had fallen. Chilli offered to drive me back to the airfield. He drove the old Jeep and made small talk about the men. He seemed pensive and distracted.
“What's on your mind?” I asked. “I can tell you've got something you want to say. I'm good to go, if that's what you're worried about.”
“Yeah,” Chilli replied. He kept his eyes on the road. “Look, I think you're an outstanding soldier. A good leader too.” He chuckled. “Judging from how much you're getting your butt kicked, your men love you. I'm just worried about you.”
“All right,” I said. “Why?”
“You're wound pretty tight.”
“Aren't we all?”
“You have a certain tendency to take risks. I'm just concerned. I don't want you doing something brave and foolish. Heroes don't live long.”
“I'm going to do my job. Bring my men back alive, if I can.”
“Roger that,” Chilli said. “Don't take any dumb risks. That's all I'm saying.”
“I want to live,” I said. “I want to go home to Crystal and Ryder. I'm not planning on getting myself killed.”
“That's what I needed to hear,” Chilli said. “I won't see you in the morning, so watch your six. I'll meet you at Dugway.” We clasped hands and I walked into the barracks.
“We're wheels up at zero five hundred,” I said to the expectant men. “Everybody get your gear squared away and try to get some sleep.”
I unpacked my rucksack and laid out my weapons and ammunition. Extra magazines for the assault rifle, bio warfare mask, MRE rations, canteen, compass, maps, night vision reticule, frag grenades, Ka-Bar and sidearm. I rechecked my parachute and my reserve. I put on my flight suit and inspected it, then took it off again and laid it next to my gear.
Around me, the other Rangers were doing the same things. Some of them were painting their faces with dark cammo paint, others cleaning and loading weapons. The atmosphere was quiet and professional and tense. There was no false bravado, no puffed up machismo. These were all seasoned combat veterans; every man knew he was capable of fighting through his fear.
In other units staffed by young, green soldiers interspersed with more experienced men, fear of the unknown often manifested itself in the form of trash talk and boasting. I had seen tough, physically impressive men who had talked the loudest and been the most aggressive fall apart under enemy fire. They would feign injury or cower down and cry for their mothers while bullets zipped over their heads like angry hornets and this made me livid when I saw it. Men like that endangered not only themselves, but the entire unit they fought with and would end up getting others killed. I had little empathy then, but I understand now that not all men can cope with the stress and rigors of combat, the fact that someone is trying to kill you and you must then take that man's life. Some people simply are not cut out for it, are not wired that way, and perhaps that is a good thing in the end. No man really knows what the answer is for him until the smoke fills the air and he is staring down his rifle at death, and he either becomes death himself or is taken by it.
Each man copes with the killing differently. Some men are valiant and deadly and then are consumed by guilt later and they cannot function properly, as though something inside was broken irrevocably. Others form a wall in their minds and are able to leave the killing in the past. A few are thrilled by the power and find great exhilaration and freedom in it and these men frighten me because they have lost their humanity somewhere along the way, as if every round took a piece of their souls with it until they are empty and hollow. For me, and many others like me, it has been all of those things at different times. I was not the rock I believed myself to be, and I still have nightmares.
Jets powered up and roared from the runway, F-15s headed for the battlefield to drop bombs on the enemy tanks, and the Raptors streaked south to engage enemy aircraft. The noise made sleep difficult, but eventually it found me, and I dreamed about falling.