Bombs Away

To Jack Derring, President From Steve Marquet, Secretary Regarding American Army Units in the New York City Region

In charge of protecting and securing New York City at the moment is the 43rd Division (National Guard). The 104th RI Field Artillery has been attached to give vital artillery support against the zombie menace, while not being a formal component of the division.

Pennsylvania and upstate New York are sending reinforcements. Only 1,500 regulars are gathered by the 11th Mountain Division, which has been severely weakened by zombie attacks in Iraq. In an effort to defend the city and prevent the zombies from escaping and winning, the 29th Pennsylvania Division moves forward from Harrisburg with a brigade of paratroopers to support the overworked guardsmen. Should the necessity arise, the 83rd Airborne is prepared.

43rd Division (8,400 soldiers, 40 pieces of artillery, and 125 tanks)

Buffalo-based 4th NY Armored, with 2,100 troops and 80 tanks, is based in the Bronx.
Patchogue-based 43rd NY Infantry, 2,000-man unit based in Queens
51st NJ Infantry, a 2,100-man unit based in Harlem from Fort Dix
"Combating" Manhattan's 70th NY Infantry was destroyed in Iraq (-)
Montpelier-based 87th VT Armored, with 1,800 troops and 45 tanks, is based in the Bronx.
Providence-based 104th RI Field Artillery, with 400 personnel and 40 artillery pieces, is based in Queens.

29th Division (6,700 soldiers, 35 tanks)

3rd PA Infantry, traveling to New York City from Washington (1,100 troops)
From Scranton, the 56th PA Armored (35 tanks, 1,200 soldiers) is traveling to New York City.
Philadelphia-based 57th PA Infantry, traveling to New York City (2,500 troops)
From Annville, the 29th PA Aviation is traveling to New York City (1,900 men).


Division 11th Light Mountain (1,500 men)

2nd Brigade, traveling to New York City from Fort Drum (1,500 troops)
Iraq annihilated the 3rd Brigade (-)
Iraq annihilated the 5th Brigade (-)
Iraq destroyed the 11th Aviation (-)
At any time, we are ready to drop nerve gas over the city. The Lower East Side, Brooklyn, and Central Park—the epicenter of the zombies' genesis and dissemination—will be the targets of airstrikes. There is every optimism that this menace can be eliminated permanently.

Defense Secretary Steve Marquet September 19, 200X

FOREVER STARS AND STRIPES

As pilots and bombardiers boarded their aircraft at Troy Airbase in upstate New York, a gentle instrumental version of “The Star-Spangled Banner” floated from the loudspeakers. Air Force troops armed their F-117s across the tarmac, locking and packing lethal ordnance for takeoff.

On September 11, the United States had stumbled here, unable to make a decision as planes crashed into the World Trade Center. Fighter jets had been postponed until it was too late due to fear. They now took advantage of the opportunity to make amends for that failing and save New York City again.

Lieutenant General Thomason, a member of the Joint Chiefs and the military commander of the Northeastern United States, gave the order to "launch the attack at nine o'clock this morning." "This is what it's come to."

An Air Force official said, "Ten minutes ago, we received executive Presidential confirmation." Nerve gas is acceptable. Everything is set, and flight leaders are briefed.

Thomason responded solemnly, "Then let it be done."

Over the intercom, a terse voice declared, "Attention, attention, get ready for launch in five minutes." The first few planes rolled onto the takeoff field as thirty aircraft engines blazed to life.

The intercom said, "Silver Squadron, Lower East Side; Blade Squadron, you're hitting Brooklyn." The Nevada Squadron captures Flatbush, the Jupiter Squadron targets Central Park, and the Kansas Squadron engulfs Midtown. Let's take out your orders, which you have.

Speaking into his headset, the commander of the Silver Squadron took a quick look at his watch. "Allow me to take off?"

"Godspeed, and congratulations."

As they sped down the runway and soared into the brilliant morning sky, headed south, the stealth planes at the front of the line blasted to full throttle, their engines booming. Over a hundred miles away, the horizon was tarnished by smoke and ash from New York City.

Even New York was a whirlwind. Thousands of trapped survivors were either killed or infected by the zombies who tore through Harlem. While uninfected residents of Greenwich Village fought valiantly against hundreds of thousands of infected attackers, the Army engaged in combat with the horde in Queens and Manhattan.

Tobey, Green, Angela, and the 124th Street Variant C militia prowled Harlem, consuming the remains of the 87th Armored. Wandering Variant Bs and As, rejected by their more lucid relatives, staggered toward the slaughter.

"Allow them to eat," Tobey ordered. "We'll make use of them later."

After joining forces with other Variant C tribes, the two hundred zombies he had organized under his leadership grew to two thousand. They had ambushed a column of hundreds of soldiers and scores of tanks uptown the night before. The tanks' cannons were useless in the turmoil of close quarters, and the men were sucked up in their narrow columns. One thousand of Vermont's 1,800 National Guardsmen died, while another thousand joined Tobey's expanding army, which was now driven by the same bloodlust.

Tobey called, "Robson," as he strode down 174th Street, which was littered with bodies. "Assure that no more tanks cross by leading your troops to the Spuyten Duyvil Bridge."

Robson, a bespectacled Variant C who was formerly a Catholic priest, answered, "Aye, sir." His collar and cassock were smeared with American blood, and his most recent kill was still visible on his framed lips.

The bombarders of Jupiter Squadron appeared nine thousand feet above.

"Before dropping the payload, check the firing angle vectors."

"Every system is configured and safe."

"Away with the bombs."

Cargo bays yawned open, and 5,000-pound bombs loaded with sarin gas and explosives whistled down amid the roar of the sonic boom. Over uptown, dozens of jets screamed and let loose their deadly volley.

As stealth jets sped past, Tobey looked up into the sky, bombs dropping toward the buildings like pinpricks. He stood helpless, frozen like a deer in headlights. Around him, hundreds of zombies stared at the approaching disaster on sidewalks, in the streets, and among the ruins of bloody tanks.

"What are we going to do?" Crouching between the treads of a Bradley, Robson posed the question.

"Come on down! Proceed prone! With a cry, Tobey threw himself to the sidewalk. As the bombs fell mercilessly toward earth, they shrieked—a high-pitched howl of doom.

Massive craters were carved into the landscape uptown when the payloads struck, causing the ground to tremble. As buildings fell, Tobey was thrown into the air, his skull being clamped like an iron vise by the pressure. Glass and rubble battered his lifeless body, and he squeezed his eyes shut as they throbbed as though they were being pulled out.

The jets continued their assault, destroying office buildings and apartment complexes with flaming destruction. Where they lay, zombie columns burned, their shapes piercing the pavement like ghostly echoes. In the aftermath, the stench of blood mixed with toxic fumes.