by M. Lorrox
Passenger more in charge than the driver?
They drive in silence—with some electro-alternative music in the background that keeps repeating the line, “I’ll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air.” The song has a low, consistent bass line. Hmm. Maybe they won’t notice.
Hamid takes a deep breath in—his diaphragm pushes against the strap across his belly. He holds it, and he concentrates. You can do it, old man. You can do it. He focuses his thoughts on the people in the front of the ambulance, and he breathes out. He groans low from deep in his chest and makes a very quiet sound. It’s not loud enough for the kidnappers to hear, but it’s plenty strong enough for them to feel.
He imagines them in his mind’s eye. They’re sitting, but now they’re shifting. They’re uncomfortable. They feel hot. Their chests itch. Their stomachs hurt. Their heads hurt. They can’t breathe. They can’t think. They want to throw up. They want to die. They want to crawl on the floor. They want the sound out of their head. They want the worm out of their foot. They want the snake out of their belly. They want the bees out of their mouth. They want the nails out of their ribs. They want the sun out of their eyes...
After two minutes of Hamid’s meditation and the tone he makes, the ambulance pulls over on the side of the highway, and his abductors gasp for air. Hamid kicks his legs in opposite directions: one down against the stretcher to lift his hips, and the other up and against the strap at his ankle. -Throop! Throop!- The nylon webbing snaps.
He rolls his body to the side. -Throop! Throop!- The straps across his stomach and shoulders snap, too.
Before the kidnappers know what’s happening, Hamid is freed and is in the middle of the two front seats.
The driver looks at him through glassy brown eyes. Hamid hits him with a right hook and breaks the man’s jaw. His head slams into the driver’s side window, and he’s knocked unconscious.
Hamid turns to the man in the passenger seat and looks into his sparkling-green eyes. Excellent. Hamid grabs the vampire by the shoulders and throws him into the back of the ambulance. He flies against the far wall and shakes the entire vehicle. Hamid grabs a length of strap that only seconds ago held him down, and he is on the other vampire in a flash.
He gasps. “Please! I didn’t want—”
Hamid sticks the strap in the vampire’s mouth and wraps both ends around the back of his head. He pulls on the ends, and it cinches down on the vampire’s mouth, ripping the flesh at the corners of his lips. Hamid screams into his face, “You talk when I tell you to! Or should I tear this through?”
The vampire paramedic closes his eyes and stops resisting.
Hamid pulls the strap out of the medic’s mouth and slides it down around his neck. “If I pull this with a tenth of my strength, your head will be ripped from your body. Your brain will have enough oxygen in it to process information for a few seconds—long enough for me to hold your head up and point your eyes at your future, headless corpse. But, I don’t have to do that. Tell me everything about why I’m being kidnapped.”
The paramedic swallows. He can feel the tightness of the strap around his neck as his Adam’s apple slides underneath. “Sir, I hired the driver. He knows nothing, and I know everything. I was paid half up front for my family, in case I didn’t survive.”
“You won’t unless you tell me where I’m going and whom you’re delivering me to!”
“I know.”
Hamid searches the man’s eyes, and they do not waiver. “Fuck you.” He jolts his arms in opposite directions, and the strap closes around the vampire’s flesh with a -snap!-
The head rolls onto its side as blood spurts from the carotid arteries on both sides of his neck. Hamid grabs the head like he promised, but instead of fulfilling the rest of his threat, he just screams into the face. Then he tosses the head behind him and looks down at the bleeding corpse.
Yes, blood... Don’t mind if I do. Hamid stands, walks to the front, grabs the unconscious driver, rips him into the back, tosses him onto the stretcher, and bites into his neck. He slurps the blood spurting from the third carotid artery he’s severed in the last ten seconds.
Charlie, Eddy, and Enrique catch up with junior guardsmen Flying Eagle and Deina—both of whom Charlie has not previously met. The five of them make sure the busy hospital seems secure and that there aren’t any weirdos snooping around the BIOHAZARD—QUARANTINE wing—AKA the hall with all the vampires. When they finish making rounds and getting acquainted with the grounds, Charlie assigns Deina and Flying Eagle to maintain guard stations at either end of the quarantined wing. “Every hour we’ll rotate in a squire or myself, or another guardsman, and we’ll continue as long as required.”
Deina nods. “I’ll take the end toward the busier side of the hospital. I feel like I might not scare away as many innocent people as you, Eagle.”
He scoffs, then sighs. “I suppose my face has seen pavement a few too many times.”
She chuckles, then remembers that Colonel Costanza is there, the man who is her superior’s boss. “Sir, permission to set up watch?”
Charlie nods, and she walks off.
Enrique slouches a bit, and Charlie notices. He’s still favoring that leg. “Has anyone treated that burn yet? Or checked that arm?”
“No sir, we’ve been busy.”
Charlie shakes his head. “Time to get it fixed up. Eddy, go with him back to the room, and get one of our doctors to…you know, check him or whatever.”
“Yes, sir.” Eddy and Enrique walk off, back toward the room.
Flying Eagle takes a step to the side. “Your reputation precedes you, sir.” He starts walking.
Charlie walks along with him. “Great. Care to share what you’ve heard?”
Flying Eagle laughs and shakes his head. “Well, for one thing they say you can be a real ass!”
Charlie laughs. “Only if you piss me off... Are we going somewhere?”
“I also heard you ride. I’ve got my bike here, she’s a real beaut.”
Charlie stops. “I saw on my way in. We have to set up your guard station, now. Maybe you can show her off later.”
Eagle turns around and shrugs. He starts walking back to where he’ll set up watch. “Sorry. I just get excited. I love that bike. I’m not sure if you noticed, but she’s not quite 100% stock.”
“I saw the seat, but that seems like a sensible change. Anything else?”
His eyes gleam. “Yeah, the engine. After I blew the seventy-four-cubic-incher she came with, I dropped in an eighty.”
Charlie purses his lips. “Ooohh, I bet that baby roars.”
Eagle raises a hand and waves it side to side, wiping the area around them of any non-awesomeness that may be present. “You’ll have to take her for a spin…when this is over.” He stops and stands along the wall at the end of the wing.
Charlie smiles and nods. “I’d like that.” He takes a deep breath. “But, first we have to survive this mess. I’ll check in with you later.”
As Charlie turns to walk away, Flying Eagle steps away from the wall. “Sir?”
“Yeeaah?”
“Why are you wearing a formal uniform?”
Charlie glances down. “My Army Combat Uniform was shredded, and this was as close to a military uniform—or to tactical clothes—that I could find in less than ten seconds, so now it’s on me.”
“Oh okay, I was just curious… And uh, one other thing…”
“Yeeaah?”
“Thanks for looking out for my squire down in the Pentagon. I appreciate it.”
Charlie nods. “You’re welcome. He’s a tough kid.”
“He sure as hell is, a hundred times tougher than his old man.” Eagle smiles.
When Eddy returns to the room with Enrique, he spots his mom. “Dad, uh... Mr. Costanza wants me to help Enrique get medical attention.”
Sadie’s eyes dart up from the papers she holds, but she doesn’t move her head. “Okay. Thanks for the report.”
He nods. �
�And after I was hoping to see June.”
She lowers the papers. “Would you mind if I came along with you? I haven’t seen her…here yet.”
He swallows. “I was hoping you could be there with me.”
She nods, and Eddy leaves to find a doctor.
Sadie watches as Enrique climbs into the bed closest to the windows. “You know, Enrique, Eddy and I wouldn’t have gotten halfway to June if it wasn’t for your help.”
He forces a half smile. “Seems like we were late though.”
She sighs. “Indeed.”
-knock, knock-
Sadie turns to the door. “Come on in.” She expects Eddy and a doctor, but instead, it’s High Councilor Robert Flaxman. Oh boy.
“Elder Costanza, I heard of your heroism at the Pentagon, and I’m so pleased that you were able to help the guardsmen rescue the others.”
“I know it’s what you would have done, if you were there.”
He grits his teeth behind a curling smile, but his cheekbones flare and give him away. “I’m also grateful that you weren’t harmed in the ordeal. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like it was quite a challenging mission.”
She glances at Enrique, then back to Robert. “We run a pretty tight ship when we work together. I was just commending Enrique, Guardsman Flying Eagle’s squire, for his service.”
Robert puts on a face of excitement when he looks at the squire. “I heard about your efforts too, my son. You will make a fine knight someday.”
I ain’t your son, but you’re right, I will make a fine knight. “Thanks.”
Robert turns back to Sadie. “I’m told that you’ve volunteered to try and replace Ms. Wollstone on the High Council. It seems awfully strange that you’ve suddenly decided to take a more active role—that you’re showing such fervor to join the High Council during this trying time. I’m not sure that you exhibit the restraint required for such an important position.”
You’re seeing restraint right now.
Eddy walks in with a doctor for Enrique and steps to sneak past Robert.
Robert shoots his arm out and stops Eddy in his tracks. “Excuse me, but we’re in the middle of something here.”
Eddy swallows his anger and glances at his mom.
She lets a grin flash onto her lips as she gives him a fast, curt nod.
Eddy snaps his hand up and grabs Robert’s wrist, squeezing it and pulling it away from his chest. “Actually sir, we’re in the middle of something, and if you want, you can find your own room.”
Eddy releases the high councilor’s arm, and the doctor huffs at Robert as he passes. Enrique smiles and sits up in his bed.
Robert squirms and clears his throat, getting ready to speak.
Sadie sidesteps in front of Robert and holds up some sheets of paper. “He’s right; we should discuss this in a High Council meeting. All five of the councilors admitted here at the hospital have voted in favor of my interim position, so I’m in.” She playfully taps the papers against his chest. “Your vote for me will make it unanimous, and that would send a great message of strength and unity to the Order… Don’t you think?”
She steps away. “Besides, my son and I need to visit a friend who was caught in the Pentagon tragedy, and everything else is going to wait until we do.”
Eddy skirts past Robert, who shakes with anger.
Charlie opens the door. “Hey—” He stops when he sees his wife’s face. She walks past him. Eddy follows her with his eyebrows up at the ceiling.
Robert turns to the door.
Ha! Robert’s having a meltdown. Charlie clears his throat. “I’ve been reporting to Villablino. Let him know if you need anything from me.” He turns to walk out of the room.
Robert snaps at him. “I need something!”
Charlie points across the hall to Villablino’s room. “He’s in there.” Then, Charlie lets go of the door and follows his family down the hall.
At the L’Enfant Plaza Metro station, the zombies coming through the tunnel from the Pentagon have options. The station is large, and normally trains–not zombies—come and go from northern Virginia on the Yellow Line. The Green Line tunnel extends southeast to southern Maryland, and in the other direction, the Yellow and Green Lines travel north toward Chinatown. The Orange, Blue, and Silver Lines that run east and west through DC toward Virginia and Maryland also run through the station.
Three quarters of the zombies continue on these different paths, while the others stream out of the station to ground level.
At the surface above the station, the embattled soldiers are outnumbered and are mostly out of ammunition. They fight the zombies hand-to-hand, with bayonets or by using their bulletless M4 assault rifles as clubs. At their feet lie the corpses of zombies and their fallen brothers in arms.
By the time the first of Master Sergeant Vega’s strike forces gets into position nearby, most of the soldiers on the ground are wounded and are close to despair. The soldiers on the ground find reassurance when zombies rushing toward them start collecting bullets from above and drop in their tracks. Reinforcements… Hope we can hold…
The glass enclosure above the escalators to the metro has another two minutes of existence while the other strike force gets into position with the 50-cal. M2 Browning Machine Gun. The weapon was invented almost a hundred years ago to punch through the armor on tanks of that day, and its effectiveness as an “anti-material” weapon continues to this day. When you fire it at something, that something gets destroyed—vehicles, planes, armor-plating, concrete, boulders, buildings, etc. It’s not intended to be used against soft flesh, but after a round rips straight through a few bodies, it acts like a normal bullet and either fragments into flesh-shredding metal, or it becomes lodged in the final recipient.
The glass enclosure shatters as the 50-cal. M2 joins the party. Each bullet—the part of the cartridge the gun rockets out from its barrel—is over half an inch in diameter and is over two inches long. Each one has more than five times the muzzle energy as a 30-06, the bullets Eddy shot zombies with last Sunday from the back of Craig’s Explorer. The 50-cal. M2’s bullets rip straight down the steps leading up from the station and take out half a dozen zombies at a time.
The unmistakable sound of the M2 firing rekindles the hope among the ground troops. They rally, realizing there’s now a much better chance that they’ll make it out alive.
The zombies on the escalators never reach the surface, and the zombies already at ground level fall faster. Within thirty seconds, thanks to the 50-cal. M2 and the sharpshooters, the threat to the ground forces is minimized.
On the roof of the FAA, Vega grins as he watches muzzle-flashes and hears the -booong, booong, booong…- of the distant M2. He checks his watch. Time to report in. Finally, some good fucking news.
Li Chen, Steve, and Madeline race their sport bikes across side streets and zigzag through parking lots to save time. When they reach the INOVA Fairfax Hospital, they pass the entrance and park in a residential neighborhood alongside the hospital’s grounds. They all back their bikes up to a curb, under the shade of a large oak tree.
Li Chen is off his bike first. He hangs his helmet by the chin strap from the throttle. He runs his fingers through his short black hair and grimaces. “Ugh, Fairfax sucks.”
When Steve and Madeline are off their bikes and have their helmets off, Li Chen calls them over. He leans against the tree. “Fat-man says the kid is here, along with a lot of dust too. Good chance there’s guards protecting the dust, so we need a plan.”
Madeline holds up a finger. “We could pose as relatives of someone, get in, find the kid’s room, then wait and snatch the ring.”
Li Chen pulls his chin into his neck and scoffs. “You think they’ll just let us walk around in there? And who are we visiting, fucking king-dust Zaman? C’mon, they’ll see right through that.”
She folds her arms in front of her chest. “I dunno, man.”
Steve shrugs.
Li Chen shakes his head.
“What we need is to not raise any suspicion. Maybe one of us is injured or sick or something.”
Steve nods. “Get admitted.”
“Yup, then whoever is inside can scope things out. When it’s time, they either grab the ring or sneak the rest of us in to take it by force.”
Madeline unfolds her arms. “What do you mean, by force?”
Li Chen rolls his eyes. “Exactly what it fucking sounds like. Fat-man is going to pay big for the ring; we just have to deliver it.” He bends down and pulls a long, double-sided tactical knife from a sheath stuck into his boot. The knife is black from pommel to tip, has a checkered grip, and one edge of the blade is serrated. He holds the weapon up near his face. “We’re going to get that ring, and then we’re going to get the fuck out of this country.” He licks the blade’s sharp edge and cuts his tongue. The wound spills dark blood into his mouth, and he swishes it around and squeezes it through his teeth. “Red Fangs, this is it. This is where we make our name.” He puts the knife back in his boot.
Madeline shakes her head. “Have you lost it? For fuck’s sake man, let’s just play this cool.”
Li Chen swallows his blood and sighs. If it wasn’t for your tits, you wouldn’t be here, toots.
Steve holds a fist up.
Li Chen pounds it, then he holds his fist up to Madeline. “Mad?”
She sighs and pounds it. “So, who has the injury? Or did you just volunteer with your tongue? What’s your story going to be, you went down on a blender?” She smiles. “Just fucking with ya, dude.”
Good old Mad. Li Chen smiles back. His teeth are still red. “No, I think you’re going to be admitted. Maybe with some girl cramps or some lame shit.”
She punches him. “I think I’ll go with a rolled ankle from running from zombies or something significant. And just so you know, girls are tougher than you think—lame shit my ass.”
Li Chen turns to face the hospital. “First thing when you get inside, find out the kid’s room, then get some scrubs.” He shakes his head and looks back to the others. “I swear, if you’re wearing scrubs, just look like you know what you’re doing and you can go anywhere in a hospital.”