Walker led him into the Colonel’s office. Though the body had been removed, the room smelled of ammonia and the tang of a recent gunshot. The major sat at Prince’s desk and motioned for Lee to grab a chair opposite. Lee noticed a large pink circle on the wall behind Walker’s head, obviously from where Prince’s blood and brains had been hastily scrubbed.
“Where’s the body?” Lee asked.
“We’ll take care of him. There will be a service at twelve-hundred.” The major opened a drawer and produced a bottle of Jim Beam and two glasses. He poured two fingers into each.
Lee was about to say it was a little early for a drink but decided, what the hell. He was still wondering what Walker’s game was. “To the Colonel,” Lee said, raising his glass. “He was a good man.” He tossed back his drink while Walker sipped at his.
“He was a good man,” Walker said. “He just couldn’t…”
“Couldn’t what?”
“He just couldn’t handle it. All of it.”
“Did you report it up the chain of command?”
Walker lit a cigarette. “Little problem with that. The chain of command is broken. Big Brother is dead. Infected and killed by an airstrike. Fort Drum has gone dark.”
Lee stiffened. “Drum’s in the middle of nowhere.”
“But we send our wounded there. We’ve been doing it from the start.”
“The incubation takes longer than we were told in some cases?”
The major shrugged. “That’s my theory. But I don’t know for sure. We’re all learning on the job here, right?”
Lee nodded. Something clicked. “That’s why you set up Harvard Stadium as a casualty collection point. Those were your orders. The Colonel had nothing to do with it.”
Walker smiled.
Lee added, “You were putting them into quarantine.”
“That’s right.”
Another epiphany struck Lee. “Keeping the ground troops out of the hospitals and destroying them by air. That was your decision, not Prince’s.”
Walker’s smile turned into a grin. “Now I’m impressed.”
“So was the withdrawal. You’ve been pulling our forces out of the theater a little at a time. Ordering them into a defensive posture. Telling the Colonel they were being forced out.”
The major stubbed out his cigarette and blew a stream of smoke across the desk. “They were forced out. Not all of them will make it back. It may be too late.”
Lee couldn’t believe Walker’s gumption. “You cut the civilians loose. You cut Boston loose. Christ, even our own wounded. The question is why.”
“Why do you think? Force protection, Captain. Extreme measures for extreme times. Consider this: We almost sent three companies of combat infantry into the city’s hospitals. Aside from what that would have done to morale, I’m not even sure we had enough bullets.”
“What would have happened if you were wrong?”
Walker shrugged again. “I would have been locked up, I suppose.”
“Locked up, hell. Prince would have had you executed.”
“The Army taught us to make decisions based on probabilities. I was probably right. If I was wrong, I would have died anyway. We all would. Better a bullet than them.”
Lee shook his head in wonder. “So what now? What do you intend to do?”
“You tell me. You’re in charge here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean you’re going to have to take command.”
What Walker was proposing was impossible. “I don’t understand.”
The major refilled their glasses. “The men need a leader. The men need command. Normally, I’d be happy to do it, but I’m not cut out for this. You are.”
“I appreciate your confidence, Major, but there’s no way it would get approved.”
“You know the saying, ‘The center cannot hold’? The center’s gone, Captain. We’re in the midst of wholesale collapse here. If we don’t get somebody in charge the men will believe in and follow, they’re going to walk away. They’re going to go home.”
Lee thought of the two soldiers he saw climbing over the Hescos. Desertion in broad daylight. He picked up his glass and eyed its contents. “So I’m supposed to promote myself to the rank of Lt. Colonel?”
“You still don’t get it. In the past five weeks, almost every guideline that was sent down from the Brass, all those endless PowerPoint presentations for the officers, was about unlearning our training so we can adapt as a military force. The only way to survive this is unlearn everything and start over. Military protocols don’t matter anymore, Captain, just leadership and survival. Preserving something before it all comes apart.”
Walker opened the breast pocket of his blouse and produced two silver oak collar insignia pins. He set them on the desk. “We lost the battle, Harry. If you don’t take command, we’ll lose everything.”
Lee picked up one of the pins. He would be dishonorably discharged if he put it on, maybe even jailed. Hell, maybe even shot. But who was going to shoot him? Walker was right. The Army was falling apart. The battalion was on its own, and it was unraveling fast. The men needed leadership, even if that leadership was technically a charade.
For Harry Lee, the mission was everything. It superseded even himself.
Had he heard everything, and was it the truth? Did the major have a game? Did Walker intend to lead through him? If so, the man was going to be severely disappointed.
Lee downed his drink. He closed his hand around the pin.
Walker smiled. “How does it feel, Harry?”
“Like I’m robbing a corpse.”
Walker smirked. “It might feel different.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re saving the battalion.”
“I’ve got to get my head around it.”
“As long as your head is in the game.” After a slight pause, Walker added, “Sir.”
“All right. I’ll address the men at the funeral. We’re going to need a game plan.”
“I have some information that may help,” the major said. “I’ve been talking to my counterparts at other battalions across the Northeast and Midwest. They’re all worse off than we are. Everybody is actively engaged. Civilian authority has bled out. The military commanders are beginning to act independently. They don’t like the strategy, and they’re starting to break off on their own. Prince was one of the last die-hards.”
“Options, then. We could pull out of the city, regroup and take it back block by block. Announce a curfew to keep the citizens off the streets. Shoot everything in sight.” Lee might go down in history as another Attila the Hun, but it just might save the city.
“Problem, sir. Major General Brock wants to absorb the battalion into his command.”
Lee sighed. “And he’ll order us back into the city to do what we were doing before.” He thought about it. “The other option is to resist. We can’t take on the Massachusetts Guard.”
“Correct. I don’t think we have the men, materiel or energy to do what you’re thinking, in any case. Resupply has slowed to a trickle. I’ve been carefully shepherding what we’ve got.”
“That doesn’t give us a lot of options. We either work for Brock or fight him.”
“There is another way.”
“What’s that?”
“We could leave Massachusetts.”
Lee looked at him in surprise. Walker had told him they needed to start thinking outside the box, but it appeared the man was ready to throw away the box. “And go where?”
The major sipped his drink. “Florida.”
“What’s in Florida?”
“General Wallace. He’s cleared the peninsula of infection. He’s got air assets to keep anybody out he wants kept out. He’s got considerable strength and resources and the closest thing to a working civilian government outside of Mount Weather. I’ve been in contact with a few units that have had the same idea. If enough of the military can make it to Florida, maybe Wallace would have enough strength to take back the country.”