Specialist Mya stood there, shocked. Brit was laughing hysterically. “Hahaha, I know where you got the idea for that one!” I told her to suck it and shut up if she wasn’t going to help. I pulled Mya aside while Doc helped Redshirt out from under the dummy. Ahmed and Jonesy continued to clear the rest of the shoot house for practice.
“OK, calm down, and let’s go over what just happened.”
“I—I… fucked up.” In the harsh light of the boat lights, she looked down at the deck. Redshirt came over, looking equally crestfallen.
“No, actually, you didn’t. You did exactly the right thing. Your boy here was dead. It’s pretty damn rare that you can get jumped by a Z like that and he hasn’t chomped on your neck in a second or two.” She turned to look at Redshirt, who had a freaked-out look on his face.
“You killed the Z and saved your partner from turning into one by killing him, too. At least turning into one fast. Tell me, what happens to someone who is bitten in the neck by a Z?”
She recited from the Army Field Manual, FM 3-84: “Subjects bitten on the extremity will become infected and turn within one to two minutes. Bites to the torso, less than one minute, depending on proximity to the heart and the main arteries. Bites to the neck in the vicinity of major arteries result in infection within ten to fifteen seconds.”
I nodded at her. “So you did do the right thing. If you had hesitated, you would have been facing two Zs coming right at you. Just remember, when shooting an infected person who hasn’t turned yet, you have got to stop the blood flow, either with a head shot or a heart shot, right away, or the infection will spread. Go for a head shot if you have the time, with a burst. These little hot .22 rounds don’t have the tissue disruption that a bigger, faster bullet has.”
She looked like she was calming down, but she still shook her head. “It just happened so fraking fast. I panicked. I wasn’t trying to kill him.”
Self-doubt, one of the biggest killers on the battlefield, and I knew she had to snap out of it, quickly. “Listen, Specialist Mya, you did the right thing by instinct. Trust yourself and you’ll live. Doubt yourself and you’re dead. You can do this, and you’ll save lives as a medic, too.”
I turned to Redshirt, who still looked sheepish himself, as well he should. He was trained for this.
“Now, Private Redshirt, you might be a great Injun tracker, but you need to know that threats can come from a three hundred sixty degree angle, anytime, anywhere. Buried under a pile of brush. Jumping down through a window. Out of a closet in an already cleared room. Both of you need to understand that. I don’t know how things are where you came from; out here in Z land EVERYTHING will be trying to kill you.”
“I understand, Sarge. I come from the reservation in New Mexico. We didn’t have much of a problem with Zs, mostly you can see them coming from a mile away.”
“Well, different place here, Red. The pre-plague population density means there are millions of them out there, and I don’t know about you, but I only carry a couple hundred rounds of ammo.”
“OK, let’s do it again, this time, Redshirt is point, then Mya, then me, then Brit.”{2}
Later that night they were to learn an even harsher lesson.
I hadn’t been able to sleep so I was walking the deck. Dawn being only two hours away, I took a mug of coffee from the tug captain and headed back to where I knew Mya and Redshirt were pulling guard over our packs.
As I got closer, I could hear music coming from somewhere. In the moonlight, I could see Mya’s head nodding to the beat of some headphones stuck in her ears. Next to her, Redshirt snored.
I came up behind them, and grabbed Mya by the neck, throwing her onto the deck and ripping the headphones off her, followed by her iPod. She lay there, stunned, and I kicked Redshirt awake. His eyes opened and crossed as he looked at the barrel of my pistol two inches from his nose.
“WHAT. THE. FUCK!”
I was pissed. Regardless of WHERE we were, guard duty was sacrosanct. Sleeping on guard duty was an offense punishable by immediate death, carried out by the senior officer or NCO present. By the Universal Code of Military Justice, rewritten last year, I could have, and should have, shot Redshirt right there.
I holstered my pistol and sat back. I placed SPC Mya’s iPod on the deck and smashed it under my boot.
“Hey!” she shouted. “You can’t get those anymore!”
“I suggest you shut the hell up and listen, Specialist. Do you understand I have the right to kill PFC Redshirt right now? And have you whipped? Or vice versa, depending on whose fault it was? In fact, I think this is your fault more than his. You let him fall asleep.”
He didn’t say anything, merely hung his head. She stared at me. I think reality had just bitten them both in the ass, very hard.
“You never, ever sleep on guard duty. I don’t care if we are in the middle of Seattle, in the safe zone. NEVER, EVER. Do you understand me?”
They both mumbled something and I blew out a long breath.
“I’m not going to shoot you. Or have you whipped. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I shouldn’t have put both of you noobs on the same shift together. Just understand, from here on out, there are no second chances. If it happens again, you’re done. Mya, go to bed.”
She got up and walked away without looking back.
“I thought they taught you better in Infantry school, PFC.”
“Uh, they did, Sarge. One kid fell asleep in basic training, on fire watch at night. They had him whipped in front of the whole company and drummed him out. Put him outside the gate. I guess I was just worn out from the training today. It won’t happen again.”
“If it does happen again, I will shoot you. Do you understand? If you let your partner fall asleep, you will get whipped under UCMJ. You’re lucky this isn’t on dry land, because it would have been far worse. I would have had you both whipped for a first time offense.”
“Would you have really shot me, Sarge?”
“I’ve done it before, Red. Once. I’ll do it again, if I have to. So would Doc. Brit wouldn’t even think twice about it. You’re lucky it’s not her who found you. I will not let my team be killed by someone’s stupidity. We all make enough mistakes, myself included, to die easily out here, and none of us are going to let the rest of the team down if we can help it.”
Chapter 34
Our boats hummed through the night, over the still river water. I kept my head down and a cloth over my face. Ever since the plague, more and more areas had been turning back into wetlands, without the constant maintenance on causeways and dikes, and that meant more and more mosquitoes and bugs. Most people didn’t know it, but malaria had been a big problem in the States, even as far north as Canada, right up until the mid-20th century, and it was going to come back and be a pain again soon enough. They were all over and I didn’t want to catch more than my share in my teeth and up my nose as we scooted across the water.
As we raced along, I thought back to the scene at Firebase Castle a few hours before. Night had just fallen, and the chopper that had been flying up and down river the past few nights flared in for a landing on a cleared LZ. Two guys in civilian clothes had hopped out, one of whom I recognized from my time in Afghanistan.