by Michael Todd
The only drawback was that to get paid, he’d have to put his life on the line. For science, he reminded himself acidly.
Couldn’t he do that? He’d have professional protection, after all. It was why Kennedy and others like her were there. They didn’t expect him to be hands-on with the dangerous stuff. It was merely an unfortunate side-effect of a job that he would normally consider the best chance of his life. It could still be precisely that.
Sal sighed and shook his head. “You guys still shouldn’t have kidnapped me. At least give a guy two weeks’ notice and a chance to look at all the information first.”
Hawkins coughed. “There was something of a time constraint.”
“Whatever.” Sal snatched the pen and wrote his name in messy cursive over the dotted line. There was no fine print, so that was one consolation. They couldn’t spring any more bullshit on him.
“Sweet Jesus, finally,” Kennedy said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Hawkins, thanks for handling this on such short notice. I need real sleep. Could you show Dr. Jacobs around the facility, find him some food, and settle him in his quarters?”
“Of course, Sergeant.”
Kennedy marched quickly out the door.
A moment of awkward silence followed. Sal wondered if PFC Hawkins wasn’t simply a desk jockey who had also been roped in against his will. While he felt for the man, he was in the military and probably expected to be shipped to exotic places at a moment’s notice. Besides, he doubted that desk jockeys would see much action in the Kudzu considering their job description.
“So,” Sal said, “I believe there was some mention of food? I could really eat right about now.”
Hawkins galvanized at the opportunity of something to do. “Of course.”
They exited the office once Hawkins had tidied up and turned the lights off. Sal seemed to have acclimatized to the cold—or perhaps it had warmed a little—when they found the open NTV again.
He realized that most of the base—or Staging Area, as Hawkins had called it—had been hidden behind one of the massive sand dunes. It was actually the size of a large town, and even in the dead of night, he could see more traffic than he had expected on a military base in the middle of a desert. Lights blazed, and NTVs and JLTVs traveled the streets.
While there was a military presence, it wasn’t necessarily a military base. Several people wore lab coats. Sal wasn’t the only night owl in his field, apparently, as some seemed like they had just woken up.
Hawkins stopped in front of a building. Even from the outside, Sal could smell the mouthwatering aroma of steak, and all his protests quieted as he was led into a massive mess hall. It was still open despite the hour. A buffet line provided a wide selection of food, and again, even though it was late, the place was fairly busy—more lab coats than fatigues, Sal noticed as he took his place in line.
Given that his last meal had been merely half a bowl of popcorn hours before, he could easily say the salad, baked potato, and steak was the best meal he’d ever had. His appetite had vanished on the plane, but at that moment, he thought he could manage an elephant.
Sal went back for seconds before he finally felt replete. The staff hadn’t given him any shit for getting another serving, so they were obviously used to hungry patrons. With soldiers who spent time in a dangerous place, voracious appetites were most likely commonplace.
Hawkins drove him to what looked like a residential area with small apartments laid out horizontally instead of vertically. They came to a stop at the end.
“Here’s the keycard.” The PFC handed it over. “You turn it in when you go out into the field and get it back if—when—you get back.”
“Nice save,” Sal said sarcastically. With little sleep on the flight and a full stomach, his eyelids began to droop.
Hawkins nodded. “The residence information will be sent to you tomorrow. You will go into the field, though, so you might have to read them when you get back.”
Sal shook his head in disbelief. “Is that why there was a time constraint?”
Hawkins nodded. “That’s correct. I need to head out. Make yourself comfortable, and someone will pick you up at 0500 in the morning. Rest well.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he growled. Sure, the kid tried to be accommodating. Besides that, the ‘kid’ was probably a couple of years Sal’s senior, but who was counting?
Sal opened the door and stumbled into his new place of residence, unable to stifle a massive yawn. He didn’t bother to explore and simply tumbled into the vaguely bed-shaped thing in the shadows and dropped off.
Chapter Four
The fog of sleep lifted slowly, and he registered a pounding at the door. His alarm hadn’t gone off, and he always set his alarm. It couldn’t be time to go to work yet.
The pounding gained urgency. Sal sat with a growl and scrunched his eyes shut as he stumbled in the general direction of the noise. “I already took care of the fucking clog, Mr. Addison,” he yelled. “Check your goddamn door once in a while.”
The cold floor shocked his eyes open, and he stopped in astonishment. His apartment was carpeted. And he wasn’t the kind of guy to go out, get drunk, and wake up in someone else’s home.
Gradually, the events of the previous night seeped into his consciousness. This was much worse than a bad night out. Of course, he hadn’t done anything. Technically, it had been done to him, but his past life must have been terrible if this was his karma.
The hammering at the door resumed.
“Dammit,” Sal muttered and scowled at the same clothes he’d had on the night before. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and resumed his stumble toward the door as he tried to get his bearings. Did this place have windows, or was it dark outside?
When he opened the door, he realized that yes, it was dark. The sky showed faint streaks of red, which meant the sun had risen. Since he couldn’t see it and the air still felt chilly, it was pretty darn early.
His eyes fell on the poor bastard who had been sent to wake him.
“Morning, Hawkins,” he said and rubbed his eyes again. “I thought they would send someone to pick me up.”
To his credit, Hawkins looked fairly bright and chipper despite the hour. Heaven forbid he was one of those terrible morning people. Sal had thought they were only myths.
“They did. They sent me,” Hawkins said. Dammit, he sounded cheerful too. “Did you sleep well?”
Sal gave him a mean look. “I hope that’s a rhetorical question,” he retorted acidly as the two headed toward a JLTV.
“Not a morning person, I take it?” Hawkins asked and chuckled. Sal didn’t answer and merely gave him another mean look as they moved across the street.
It was odd how during the drive, the air temperature seemed to change and how apparent the shift was. The sun rose fast, and the cool air quickly gave way to what he assumed would be a blistering day.
He stepped out of the JLTV; a man stood there to greet him. He was taller than Sal by a full head with broad shoulders and a heavy build. Sal wondered if he’d ever played contact sport that involved him steamrolling lesser men for the entertainment of the crowds.
“Dr. Jacobs?” the man asked and extended his hand.
Dammit. “That’s me,” he said, tired of the effort to correct people. If they wanted to call him Doctor, why not let them? It was easier, and it was a nice stroke to the ego, too.
“I’m Sergeant Matt Davis, the team leader for this expedition.” He grabbed Sal’s hand and shook it heartily, leaving him feeling like he needed a cast. “It’s nice to have you aboard.”
For some reason, his need to complain had mysteriously vanished. Davis didn’t seem like he would be overly sympathetic to his case. “Nice to…be here?” Hawkins gave him a sharp look and Sal shrugged.
He held out his key. “I don’t suppose you could hand this in at the desk for me, could you?”
The PFC nodded. “Of course.”
“Good,” Davis said. If he noticed their little ex
change, he made no comment. “Our previous expert was wounded in the last stint in the Zoo, so we needed someone to take his place for this run. I wasn’t sure that they would find someone in time, but goddamn if the geek squad pushing the papers didn’t come through.”
Sal nodded. “So your last man in the field…how did he get injured?”
“Oh, we ran into a bounty hunter group,” Davis said nonchalantly. “They were well armed, and Kareem took a round to the stomach. He’s alive and he’ll make a full recovery, but our contracts specified one more trip into the Zoo this month to fill our quota, so we needed another expert. They brought you.”
Sal narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, ‘the Zoo?’”
“Oh, that’s what we call it around here,” Davis told him with a nod. “Because apparently, two syllables are one too many for these meatheads.”
Sal stared at the man. He called other people meatheads? Then he remembered that the guys selected for Special Forces were usually perfect physical specimens as well as stone-cold geniuses, so maybe he was one of those. He certainly qualified as the former.
“Okay, everyone, listen up!” Davis called.
A group had gathered to one side. Most were decked out in battle suits, ready for action, while others were in the process of suiting up. They all paused when they heard the sergeant’s booming voice.
“This is Doctor Salinger Jacobs.” He pointed at Sal. “He’s the expert running with Team Two this round.”
One of the members of the team came over to Sal and directed him to his suit. They’d apparently known his size beforehand, so it fit comfortably. It was more a hazmat suit than body armor, he realized. His hands were free to manipulate plants and animals or whatever it was that they would track, but it fell well short in terms of protection.
He pulled the helmet on, and the heads-up display activated. He’d never had a HUD before. It tracked his eyes like a computer tracked a mouse, and a welcome appeared on the display. It came with a fully functional operating system, and when he focused on the menu, it opened a browser connected to the Staging Area’s server.
“It must be crazy to watch porn on this thing,” Sal said. It would definitely take some getting used to but had to be better than lugging an actual computer around.
“No can do, I’m afraid,” one of the men beside him said in what sounded like an Irish accent. “The HUDs can only connect to the SA’s server, and all content on it is tightly regulated.”
Sal nodded. “I…really wish I hadn’t said that aloud.”
The man grinned. “No worries, mate. Almost every single man on this base has had the same first thought. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Sal chuckled and offered his hand now encased in a red glove. “Salinger Jacobs.”
“Corwin Lynch.” He shook with his gloved right hand. In his left was a mechanical grasp for a weapon which most likely had significant stopping power.
“Okay, people, listen up,” Davis said, drawing everyone’s attention. “This is how it’ll go. We all have GPS trackers in our suits, so getting lost shouldn’t be an issue. Don’t stray from your team and don’t go anywhere alone. This is not a fucking Amazon vacation, so keep your wits about you at all times. If you stray and get caught in a bounty hunter trap, be assured that your squad leader will rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.”
The team chuckled, and Sal joined in nervously.
“The teams are as follows. I will lead Squad One. Banner, Richards, and Rodriguez will be my gunners, and Dr. Monroe will be our specialist. Sergeant Madigan Kennedy will lead Squad Two. Lynch, Cortez, and Addams will be her gunners, and Dr. Jacobs will be their specialist. Any questions?”
There weren’t any. Sal looked around and identified Dr. Monroe easily since her suit was the same as his. She was short, though he couldn’t tell much else. He responded when she caught him looking at her, smiled, and waved.
Sal turned his attention to Davis.
“We have three objectives on this run.” The man held up three fingers. “One, our specialists will collect specimens. Your HUD will notify you if we run into any new flora or fauna out in the Zoo. If you find something new, wrap it and contain it for the analysts in the labs. Specialists, your suits should be equipped with a field-testing unit. Run anything you can quickly, but don’t make your squad stay anywhere for too long. They’re there to protect you, not give their lives for you. Got it?”
Sal suddenly realized that most of this speech was for his benefit since the team members had most likely been there for a while and already knew the rules.
He nodded. “Got it.”
“Good. Second objective.” An image appeared on Sal’s HUD—and everyone else’s, he hoped. “The Pita flowers are the money bags that run this whole facility, so we have standing orders to collect any and all we find. I don’t need to remind you folks of the standing eighteen-grand bounty on a set of those bad boys. If you find them, pick up the flower as delicately as you can. These are not your mom’s pussy. You bruise the petals, the price takes a hit.”
Sal studied the flower more closely. “I have a question.”
“Go ahead, Jacobs.” Davis nodded. There was no mockery or annoyance in the man’s voice. While his questions might not have relevance in life or death situations, it was still nice to feel they were valid.
“Why don’t we collect the whole Pitas?” he asked and realized that everyone’s eyes were on him. “I mean, that’s got to be easier than having to go into the…Zoo to harvest them.”
Davis looked over to Kennedy. “You want to take this one, Sergeant?”
Kennedy nodded. “Pulling the plants out of the ground is dangerous. Not due to the plants themselves, but the action agitates the wildlife in the surrounding area to the point of aggression. It also seems to work like a beacon to wildlife in an unknown radius. All teams that tried have been swarmed. Only a couple of teams have made it back alive—none without heavy losses, and none with the plant.”
Davis looked back to Sal. “Does that answer your question, Doc?”
Sal nodded. “Understood. Just the flowers, not the plants.”
Davis pulled his helmet on. “If we have no other questions, let’s get this show on the road, folks.” The teams moved into action and loaded supplies into a pair of tracked vehicles that looked like they could climb Mount Everest if they needed to.
Sal jogged to keep up with Kennedy. “So,” he said, “Davis said we have three objectives, but he only specified two during the brief. Is there anything else I should know about before we head out into the Zoo? Great name, by the way.”
She paused and looked at him. “In every mission, there is one thing above all others that you have to do. Nothing—no pretty flowers, no cute beasties—trumps this objective.”
He tilted his head. This really sounded like it should have come from Davis and been addressed to the entire team instead of only him.
The sergeant chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “You have to stay alive, Jacobs. No flower or payday is worth getting turned into alien dog food.”
Sal snorted a short laugh, and she gave him an odd look as she donned her helmet.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“I thought you were joking,” he said. “But you weren’t, obviously.”
“The Zoo is a dangerous place, Jacobs. We act all gung-ho about it, but in the end, nobody wants to die out there. Keep yourself alive, keep your team alive, and find some alien bugs and plants to study. Those are your objectives. And you prioritize them in that order, understood?”
Jacobs nodded, but the nausea he’d felt on the plane returned to haunt him. “Understood.”
Chapter Five
Sal settled into one of the vehicles. It wasn’t built like a JLTV and looked like it had been specially adapted for the kind of traveling they would do. Davis had said that heavy vehicles wouldn’t work in the Zoo proper. He assumed it was because the forest
itself was too dense to allow vehicles to traverse it. Or maybe it had to do with why they couldn’t take whole Pita plants. If the animals inside reacted so poorly to the removal of small plants, how would they react to whole trees being bulldozed?
Which brought Sal’s mind to the defenses. This was a tracked vehicle with no glass windows, which was directed by a selection of sensors and cameras whose information was transmitted to screens. He assumed that the detection devices would be heavily shielded as well. If they weren’t and were damaged in an attack, the drivers would effectively be blind. Redundancies were no doubt in place, but he had the feeling the vehicles were designed for passenger protection more than anything else. He assumed that should everything go wrong and they lost sensors while under attack, they could simply lock down, send out a distress signal, and be perfectly safe from attackers until help arrived.
He looked at the sides, which indicated that the vehicles had apparently spent significant time in the Zoo. Sal saw that scratch marks from massive claws had barely damaged the dark green paint. The only attacks that seemed to have done any damage at all resembled chemical burns, and they had left no indentations in the steel plate.
That was worrisome, though. He really hoped it was the bounty hunters who carried vials of acid, not the animals.
He ran his fingers over the faded paint, which identified this vehicle as a Hammerhead. He could see why it was named that. The squat diamond shape which made it effective against mines resembled a hammerhead shark.
Although, if that was the name of the type of vehicle or simply this one, he really couldn’t tell.
“Let’s mount up,” he heard Davis call from the other vehicle. The group of ten each found their seats, five to each Hammerhead, with Kennedy behind the driving controls for the one Sal boarded. He was in her squad, but he did notice that members were seated by personal choice rather than in their teams.