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Based on the Israeli “Masada” model,
there was already so much out there to worry about, every month, it seemed, a new nail-biter. How can you keep track of all of it? How do you know which one is really real?
D-17 combat dirigibles that make up the core of America’s Civil Air Patrol.
I saw a few people panic, try to shoot through their windshields, destroying the only protection they had. Stupid. They might have bought themselves a few hours in there, maybe even a chance to escape. Maybe there was no escape, just a quicker end.
I’m just highlighting the most extreme negative examples, you understand. For every one profiteer, or repulsive psychopath, there were ten good and decent people whose karma was still untainted.
THE HOLY RUSSIAN EMPIRE
about the same time as that American newswoman broke the story, our camp was placed on indefinite communication blackout.
A matter of “state security” they called it. Who were “they”? Everyone: our officers, the Military Police, even a plain-clothed civilian
Russia, my Russia, was nothing but an apolitical mess. We lived in chaos and corruption, we were just trying to get through the day. Even the army was no bastion of patriotism; it was a place to learn a trade, get food and a bed, and maybe even a little money to send home when the government decided it was convenient to pay its soldiers.
now you’re going to get your chance to practice it.” His exact words, stamped behind my eyelids for the rest of my life. What did he mean? We would be the ones to decide who would be punished.
Brilliance. Sheer fucking brilliance. Conventional executions might have reinforced discipline, might have restored order from the top down, but by making us all accomplices, they held us together not just by fear, but by guilt as well. We could have said no, could have refused and been shot ourselves, but we didn’t. We went right along with it. We all made a conscious choice and because that choice carried such a high price, I don’t think anyone ever wanted to make another one again. We relinquished our freedom that day, and we were more than happy to see it go.
the “Wild West Indies,” or, more specifically, each island’s “Special Economic Zone.”
there’s nothing more marketable than knowing how to kill some people while keeping others from being killed.
His plan was to provide safety for those who could raise his image during and after the war, playing Moses to the scared and famous. And you know what, they fell for it.
what he was most proud of was the fact that every room in the house was wired for a simultaneous webcast that went out all over the world 24/7. This was the real reason for having all his “closest” and “best” friends over. He didn’t just want to ride out the storm in comfort and luxury, he wanted everyone to know he’d done it. That was the celebrity angle, his way of ensuring high-profile exposure.
We’d been paid to protect rich people from zombies, not against other not-so-rich people who just wanted a safe place to hide.
ICE CITY, GREENLAND
The problem was refugees,
Better to pass the problem along to another nation than have to deal with it themselves.
We had no hotline, no diplomatic channels. We didn’t know how to contact the Pakistani leadership. We didn’t even know if there was any leadership left. It was such a mess, confusion turning to anger, anger turning on our neighbors. Every hour the conflict escalated. Border clashes, air strikes. It happened so fast, just three days of conventional warfare, neither side having any clear objective, just panicked rage.
No one would have expected it, but then again, no one would have expected the dead to rise, now would they? Only one could have foreseen this, and I don’t believe in him anymore.
guns, shooting everything that moved. They probably killed more people, the Rambos and the runaway fires, and the traffic accidents and just the…the whole shit storm that we now call “the Great Panic”; I think that killed more people at first than Zack.
“Q,” the homegrown, American variety cigarette so named for its one-quarter tobacco content.]
whoever was in charge must have been one of the last of the Fulda Fucktards, you know, those generals who spent their nard-drop years training to defend West Germany from Ivan. Tight-assed, narrow-minded…probably pissed off from so many years of brushfire war. He must have been an FF because everything we did freakin’ stunk of Cold War Static Defense. You know they even tried to dig fighting holes for the tanks?
So much we didn’t need! So much shit that only blocked traffic and looked pretty, and that’s what I think they were really there for, just to look pretty.
So much of it was for show, not just the vehicles but us as well. They
what genius thought to put us in body armor anyway? Because the press reamed ’em for not having enough in the last war?
Okay, that was another thing they did right. Picking a choke point and clearing the civilians, great job. Everything else…
balloon effect
Sudden Nerve Trauma,
No one thought about it, no one! Don’t pull my pud with stories about budget cuts and supply problems! The only thing in short supply was common fucking sense! Not one of those West Point, War College, medals-up-the-ass, four-star fart bags said, “Hey, we got plenty of fancy weapons, we got enough shit for them to shoot!?!”
canister shots…basically
flechettes? That’s the weapon we always hear about these days, flechettes, these little steel spikes that turn any weapon into an instant scattergun.
We were the last line of defense, the afterthought when it came to firepower. We were supposed to pick off the random lucky G who happened to slip through the giant bitchslap of our heavier stuff. Maybe one in three of us was expected to fire his weapon, one in every ten was expected to score a kill.
We still managed to do our job and make Zack pay for every fuckin’ inch! Maybe if we’d had more men, more ammo, maybe if we’d just been allowed to focus on our job…
Every time some jerkoff couldn’t control his mouth, Land Warrior made sure the rest of us heard it.
Panic’s even more infectious than the Z Germ and the wonders of Land Warrior allowed that germ to become airborne.
Suddenly the image went dark, cut off from an external source, and the voice, the older voice, was back again…“Stay off the net!” he ordered, trying real hard to control his voice and then the link went dead.
suddenly a fist clocked me in the jaw. It didn’t knock me out, but I was suddenly relaxed. These were my buddies. Zack don’t punch.
Sure, we were unprepared, our tools, our training, everything I just talked about, all one class-A, gold-standard clusterfuck, but the weapon that really failed wasn’t something that rolled off an assembly line. It’s as old as…I don’t know, I guess as old as war. It’s fear, dude, just fear and you don’t have to be Sun freakin Tzu to know that real fighting isn’t about killing or even hurting the other guy, it’s about scaring him enough to call it a day. Break their spirit, that’s what every successful army goes for, from tribal face paint to the “blitzkrieg” to…what did we call the first round
...more
The fact that we couldn’t shock and awe Zack boomeranged right back in our faces and actually allowed Zack to shock and awe us! They’re not afraid! No matter what we do, no matter how many we kill, they will never, ever be afraid!
thermobaric weapon?
UNITED STATES OF SOUTHERN AFRICA
the turning point against the living dead,
It had been an intellectual exercise; he never believed anyone would be left to read it. It had no name, as explained later “because names only exist to distinguish one from others,” and, until that moment, there had been no other plan like his.
there was no way to save everyone.
Our forces had to be consolidated, withdrawn to a special “safe zone,”
eradicate the infestation within its borders,
defend it against further onslaughts
These people would be saved not only to provide a labor pool for the eventual wartime economic restoration, but also to preserve the legitimacy and stability of the government,
