Left With the Dead by Stephen Knight

twenty minutes is a long wait under our circumstances, and if something goes wrong and the chopper has to abort, we’ll be trapped on the roof and royally fucked. So I really need to know if there are any troops in the area, how many, and if they’re headed our way. And I need to know that real, real quick. Over.”
    “Roger that, Terminator. Stand by.”
    Gartrell checked all of his weapons. All were operational. He strapped the MP5 to his right thigh and pulled the carry rig’s Velcro straps tight. He ensured elbow and kneepads were in place, and slipped on his gloves. He then dropped the baby sledge and two big chisels into his knapsack; he couldn’t imagine them coming in handy in the short term, but he wouldn’t want to wind up needing them and regret not having them. Everything in order, he left the bedroom and walked to the living room, where Jolie frantically stuffed one of the backpacks with virtually everything on the table. Gartrell grabbed her arm, and she swatted him away.
    “I’ve got this!” she said, and the angry tone in her voice set off Jaden. He started wailing and jumping around the room, flapping his hands. Gartrell could smell his full diaper, and he reached out and grabbed Jaden with one hand, pulling him toward Jolie.
    “I’ll take care of it,” Gartrell said calmly. “Jaden needs you right now. Let’s get him changed, give him some water, and then move to the next apartment. We have a little bit of time, but the zeds are on their way up. They’re in the stairwell. Do you understand what I’m saying? We’re about to get very danger close.”
    Jolie looked at him with wide eyes. “They’re…coming? Is my husband…?”
    Gartrell nodded, and Jolie put a hand to her mouth and looked away. Gartrell grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.
    “I don’t want Jaden to see that thing,” he said, “and neither do you. So let’s get a move on. We’re running out of time.”
    Jolie nodded and grabbed Jaden. She cooed in his ear, trying to get him to calm down. Gartrell dumped out the contents of the backpack and started over. Water. Some food. Some juice. Diapers for Jaden. Wet wipes. A small blanket. He then hurried into Jaden’s room while Jolie changed the boy’s diaper. She looked at him but didn’t ask what he was doing. Inside the bright, cheerily painted room, Gartrell opened the closet and went through the clothes there. He pulled out several pairs of jeans, three long-sleeved shirts, a few undershirts, and several pairs of socks. He found a pair of toddler shoes with an aggressive tread on them, and carried everything outside. He put the garments inside a plastic bag and put the bag inside the backpack. The shoes went in an outside pocket that he zipped up tight. In another pocket he put in the LED lights and a flashlight and spare batteries.
    “Terminator, Falcon. Come in, Terminator.”
    “Falcon, Terminator. Give me the good news, over.”
    “Terminator, we have one light infantry platoon that’s a company advance element about ten blocks north of your position, in the T-line tunnels. We haven’t been able to contact them yet, but they are due to report in soon. There’s another unit in the Q line, and we just notified them of your situation—they’ll try and raise the platoon in the Second Avenue tunnel. They might have better luck than we will in the short term. Chinook is still refueling, and I’ve been told the aviators are going to head your way, over.”
    “Roger that, Falcon. Is that all you’ve got?” The news left Gartrell feeling spectacularly underwhelmed, but there wasn’t much sense in berating the man on the other end of the radio link. Even though a full division was supposedly camped out across the river from Manhattan, getting it into the city was a major operation itself, and it would take several more hours to secure the zone.
    “Terminator, we’re working to chop some Apaches your direction for close air, but that’s all I’ve got