“I will pay you! I’ll pay you anything!”
“Please! Please take me out of here!”
“Why do you get to decide who goes?”
“We should draw straws!”
Sergeant Keal bounded atop the rear Humvee and shouted down the crowd. “Hey! Listen! Dr. Rosenthal is in charge here. Everyone quiet down!”
Dr. Rosenthal approached Carl’s driver’s side window and tapped on it.
Carl rolled the window down, and Dr. Rosenthal whispered, “Stay in your cars, we’ll load up the kids.”
“Is this gonna get ugly?” Carl asked.
“I don’t know.” Dr. Rosenthal replied, before motioning for one of the nearby soldiers to open the Humvee door and help the children into the vehicle.
Sergeant Keal took Dr. Rosenthal’s hand and hoisted her atop the Humvee with him. His brawny form stood behind her as she addressed the mob.
“Listen! Everyone! Listen to me!” Dr. Rosenthal’s voice was barely audible, but eventually the commotion quieted. “There’s good news! Good news everybody! The convoys are moving people out of the DDCs into the fleet. They can’t take everyone at once, so they’re taking children first.”
“Bullshit!” someone screamed.
“When do we go?” someone else yelled.
“What about us?” a third person asked.
The crowd began to incite again until Sergeant Keal bellowed at them, “Shuttup!”
The first vehicle was filled with as many children as it could hold. The DDC guards began filling the second.
“Another convoy is on its way to pick more of you up,” Dr. Rosenthal lied. “San Diego is a dangerous place, so we don’t know when it will arrive… but it will be here. Moving everyone out could take a few weeks, so we need to talk about cutting rations.”
The crowd responded with murmurs and shouts of anger, but seemed to accept the news. The promise of a ride to the fleet had been enough to placate them. They barely contemplated the additional more important point: the need to ration.
The second car was filling quickly, and Carl noticed a contrast between parents of the children being loaded into his convoy and the mob behind them. These parents knew: either they had guessed, or Dr. Rosenthal had told them in confidentiality. Staying in the DDC was a death sentence, and they were saying goodbye to their children forever. Mothers and fathers held back tears as they hugged one another. They tried desperately to appear strong and project a sense of hope to their children that they might one day be reunited.
“Bullshit!” someone screamed! “They aren’t coming back!”
“Hey! What did I just tell you?” Sergeant Keal shouted again, scanning the crowd for the instigator.
“It’s okay, there will be room in the next convoy for more of you.” Dr. Rosenthal tried to keep the peace, but she was drowned out by the mob.
Carl watched a soldier close the door of the second car and open the rear door to his lead car. The soldier hurriedly began picking the children up and tossing them into the vehicle. During his third toss, he made eye contact with Miguel and whispered, “Get on that gun.”
“Shit!” Pam punched the communications link on her helmet. “Gunners, mount up right now.”
“They’re leaving without us!” Someone screamed as he dove toward the open Humvee door. A nearby soldier intercepted him, smashed him with his elbow, and knocked him to the ground, but two more people followed.
“They’re not just taking kids!” Someone yelled. “They’re taking everyone!”
The mob pressed in one overwhelming rush, and Carl froze in the face of a horrible realization. Could he order his men to fire on this crowd of desperate people — these civilians who wanted nothing more than to escape the horror around them? Would they follow that order if he gave it? If not, what would happen to his crew? To the children?
In the blink of an eye, Sergeant Keal jumped down from the top of the Humvee he’d been standing on, drew his pistol, and fired into the temple of a man who had gotten close enough to step into the vehicle. The man fell to his knees before flopping over on his side. The crowd silenced, and children began sobbing.
“Oh, my God!” Someone whispered in horror. The crowd recoiled, hundreds of terrified eyes locked on Sergeant Keal.
“This is not mob rule!” Sergeant Keal shouted at the silent crowd, his booming voice echoing like thunder. “This is not every man for himself! This isn’t your ride!”
Dr. Rosenthal looked at the dead man with an emotionless expression. By now, the convoy gunners had mounted their weapons and the display of force was clear enough that the mob was quelled. “These are the youngest and most vulnerable children in this DDC. There is no more room in these vehicles. If you want to go, you will have to take the place of a child. Is that what you want?”
The crowd remained silent, dumbfounded by Sergeant Keal’s actions.
“Who is this man?” Dr. Rosenthal asked, referring to the dead civilian.
The crowd stood silent for a moment, until a female voice answered quietly. “His name was Oliver.”
Dr. Rosenthal spoke, as the last child was loaded into the convoy. “Oliver died because he wanted to take the place of a child. If any among you want to take the place of one of these kids and feels they deserve that space more than everyone else here, don’t hide in the crowd, step forward and show your face.”
No one moved.
“Come on! You were all willing to kill for a ride a second ago.” Dr. Rosenthal yelled in anger. “You think you deserve a spot in this convoy more than any one of these soldiers? You think you deserve a spot more than one of my medical staff? What is wrong with you? Where is your courage? Step forward!”
The crowd remained silent, shamed by Dr. Rosenthal’s words. The only noise was the convoy engines and the waves of undead moaning beyond the walls.
“No one? No one? Soldiers died to protect you. Soldiers died to bring this convoy here. Some of these soldiers may yet die returning to the fleet. You… are… not… entitled… to… that… sacrifice!” Dr. Rosenthal shook with fury as she bounded off the roof of the vehicle she had been shouting from, to the ground. “No one wants to be here. Not you, not these soldiers, and certainly not me, but I’ve watched as you’ve hounded, harassed, and threatened every convoy that’s come through here, hoping to bribe yourself into the fleet.”
“Why do the kids get to go?” Someone dared to ask.
“Who said that? Who said that?” Sergeant Keal bellowed as he holstered his pistol and cracked his knuckles anticipating a fistfight.
“Why do the kids get to go?” Dr. Rosenthal laughed; her face beet red with hysterical anger. “I’ll tell you why the kids get to go! They get to go because I’m in charge here! I have saved your ungrateful asses a hundred times over since you got here. I know what I’m doing, and if any one of you thinks you know better than me how to do my job, you’re welcome to it.” She glared at the crowd for a few moments before continuing. “You have a problem with how things are run, how decisions are made… there’s the god damn door.” She pointed to the bus that had driven forward to allow the convoy passage out. The second bus remained in place, ready to open when the first bus had closed.
“We are going to be here for a while, and if you are going to behave like animals, then we don’t need you. Go back to your living space, your petty cliques and suburban politics! Go back to bitching about how things are run and how rations are low. Go back to playing cards and squabbling over supplies! But leave us alone to do our job.”
Dr. Rosenthal had assumed a demeanor much larger than her stature, and the crowd began to disburse. Carl shifted his vehicle into drive, noting how the small woman summoned the fury to intimidate an angry mob into backing down. Her fire was something sorely lacking in the fleet.