A Matter of Time

Dec. 13 – Iowa
He first arrived to Fort Miller with the rest of his company to help the National Guard contain the situation. It was ten miles outside of a fairly populated area, and the pandemic was hitting hard. Local law enforcement had to defer to the National Guard, and now the National Guard was appealing to the Army. There's no one else to go to, Private Daniel Hill thought as he surveyed the base. People were being pooled from all the surviving evacuation centers in the surrounding areas. The first thing Hill noticed was that there weren't many people coming in. What the hell is going on?

The company briefing company given before arriving had been short. The major points were that some sort of biological agent was infecting the population, causing hysteria, cannibalism, and a resistance to pain. There was no known cure. Anyone infected was as good as dead. Similar situations were popping up all over the country - possibly the globe. Containing the infected was no longer an option; now it was time to contain the healthy.

That was why they had arrived. Private Hill and all the other soldiers were supposed to lock down Fort Miller and protect every living thing inside. At first it sounded like a cakewalk. But as Hill took it all in, he wasn't so sure. He made his way over to one of the gates to help bring in survivors. As he got closer, he noticed a commotion. There was a police officer holding his gun on a young woman clutching a child.

“I told you, you're not coming in!” shouted the officer.

“Please, we have no where else to go,” begged the woman.

Immediately Hill noticed that all three people were in blood covered clothing. What were these people doing, he thought. The officer then pulled back the hammer on his pistol.

“Hey!” Hill called to him. He ran up and got in front of him. “What the hell are you doing? These are civilians!”

“They both have bites,” the cop told him, nodding to the pair. “They're not getting in here like that.”

“What?” Hill had no idea what the man was talking about. He looked at the woman and child, and sure enough they both had areas of skin missing that looked like an animal had torn them off. What is happening?

The woman put her hand on Hill's shoulder. “Please . . .” She was crying.

“Ma'am, you can come in. The officer is going to lower his gun,” Hill said.

“No, he's not,” a new voice called. “And she is not coming in here.” Hill saw Captain Walker, his commanding officer, approaching.

“Sir, these civilians need serious medical care,” Hill said.

The captain just looked passed him at the woman and child. “Unfortunately there is no medical care on Earth that can help them now. They'll be a danger to us in a few short hours.” He stepped forward. “Miss, you will have to walk away from here right now. If you do not, I will allow this officer to do whatever he feels fit to keep everyone else safe.”

The woman started to argue, but no words came out. She simply looked at Hill, then to the officer behind him, and turned around. Private Hill watched as she walked away. When she was out of sight, he turned to Captain Walker. “Sir, what are we doing here, exactly? What are we up against?”

The captain looked up, beyond the fences, out to something not in view. “Son, I wish I could tell you. Just buckle down. We'll have a lot of work to do in the morning.”

December 14

When that first morning came, Private Hill did not know what to expect. They were called together in their barracks and told to sit. They were informed on the situation more. Over night, the infected had shown up all around the base. They were completely surrounded. And while the hostiles on the other side did not seem to be able to break through the fence, it was a matter of time before there were enough to push it over. The job was simple enough: shoot the hostiles to clear the fences.

After being handed magazines four each, they were told to line up along the south fence. Hill crouched, weapon loaded, with other soldiers positioned ten feet to his right and left. He looked out at the crowd outside the fence. They're people, he said to himself. It's just a crowd of people. Then he saw what would soon be his first target. It had probably been a man at one point. However, now it was missing an arm and had its intestines hanging out. There is no way that thing is still alive. Hill tightened his grip on his weapon, waiting for the order.

“You boys want to put any of those things down,” a voice called from behind them, “You best aim for the head. Damn things keep coming otherwise.” There was some nervous laughter among the ranks. Is he serious?

“That gentleman is correct,” Captain Walker said. “Aim for their heads. And when you fire, take your time. Breath in, take a shot, breath out. Alright? I expect thirty kills from each of you along each fence.” He paused, as if someone might object. When no one did, he spoke again. “Ready? Fire!”

The sound of dozens of rifles going off was deafening. The sight of dozens of bodies getting hit was sickening. Several men were stunned. A few began to get sick. Private Hill just sat there, looking out at the beings beyond the fence. Why are they still standing there? He had not had the chance to see major combat before, but common sense told him this was not right. The people on the other side of the fence, the things, were just directly shot at. Many of them took bullets, if not the head, then to a part close enough. And yet aside from those hit directly, not one moved. Not one flinched. It was as if they were in a different world. This is not right.

Soldiers around him starting firing again, so Hill did the same. Breath in. He fired a round. Breath out. He looked around for another target. Soon he found a former woman with an exposed trachea. Already dead, he told himself. Nothing wrong with this. He fired. After several minutes, there were fewer shots being fired. Some men were signaling that their magazine was empty.

“When you're done, pop the magazine, put a new one in, and head to the next fence,” ordered Captain Walker.

Even though his wasn't, Hill took his magazine in out. He did not want to look like he was not following orders. He lined up with the other at the next fence. He looked for targets, but only found bloodier versions of regular people. Just fire above their heads. No one knows who is targeting who. Private Hill did this for the last three fences. He was able to justify a few more targets to himself, but some of his shots went into empty space. He could not bring himself to keep firing his weapon in their direction the whole time, even if it was over their heads. Private Hill simply fired a few times and then waited for the others to finish.

The people or things on the other side hardly seemed to notice they were up against a firing squad. They just crowded as close as they could, desperate to get in at their attackers. When it was over, he turned in his magazines and went off to clean his rifle. He hoped no one would notice his nearly full magazines.

It was noticed.

December 15

Captain Walker came in the next morning looking furious. “I was informed by the armory last night that most of the magazines came back with rounds still in them.” He looked around the room. No one wanted to meet his eyes, including Hill. “Do you boys understand what we are up against?” He stepped out of the room and then reentered with a television. “I suppose not. I have a tape I want to show you. I want you all to see what you refused to kill yesterday. We are not up against people anymore.”

The captain turned on the tape and let it play. They watched what appeared to be security footage. At first it was hard to tell of what, and then it became clear: a hospital. More specifically, the nursery ward. Each solider watched as two people tried to fend off a group of attackers. The people were eventually overtaken and then repeatedly bitten. They're eating them, Hill thought. What kind of disease makes you want to eat people? The horror, however, did not end. Once the attackers finished the two people, they went to each cradle. Most of the soldiers made sounds of disgust and tried to turn away.

That was when the captain spoke up. “You will fucking watch this!” Everyone snapped back to attention. “This is what we are fighting. Do you understand now?”

The men were then given their four magazines and led out to the fences. Hill had an easier time picking targets. He just pictured what he had seen each time to justify it. It was almost enough. At the end, his magazines could be described as mostly empty.

How long can this go on for?