by M. Lorrox
They laugh. A tall guy with a goatee shrugs. “Never thought I’d hear that sentence in my life.”
Charlie clears his throat. “Where’s Danny?”
“Who the hell are you?” The goatee guy steps forward and motions to Charlie’s odd-looking Council Guard uniform. “What are you supposed to be, a cartoon soldier or something?”
Charlie considers drawing his sword faster than the guy can blink and giving his neck a papercut, but he decides to wait. “I’m a Colonel in the United States Army, and I need to see Danny immediately. Any other questions can be fielded to General Riley of the Joint Zombie Defenses, but I think you’ve heard he has a little bit on his plate right now, so bring me to Danny. Now!”
“Alright, chill. Hold your horses, dude, he’s inside.”
“Danny, you got a visitor.” Goatee Guy walks away.
A grizzled man in a dark-blue jumpsuit pushing seventy years-young walks around the corner while also pushing a broom. “What’s this?”
Charlie closes his eyes. Come on, are you kidding me, Jules? He opens his eyes and gives the man another look. “Are you Danny?”
“Sure am, what can I do ya for?”
Charlie realizes that the others are listening in. “Can we chat in private? It’s an emergency, sir.”
Sir? “Ah sure, come on in to my office.”
The others laugh as the man waves a hand at them and leads Charlie into a broom closet. “What’s going on?”
“A woma… Do you know a person named Jules? She sent me and suggested you could help.”
He grins with warm recollection. “Ah. I’ve always hoped I would someday be asked for help. Man, oh, man, did she ever save my skin, I’ll tell you…”
“I’ll be blunt. She seems to think that you can fly me in a big helicopter to DC to save a bunch of kids from zombies. Can you help?”
Danny sighs and sets the broom against a shelf that holds cleaning supplies. “Son, all you had to do was say Jules sent you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do—nothing I could do—to repay her.”
Charlie smiles. “Alright, so... You know how to fly a helicopter? How can we get our hands on one? It needs to be big, we’ve got to carry—”
Danny waves him down and unzips the top of his jumpsuit. “I used to fly in ’Nam, and yeah, we just got a decommissioned CH-47C. Ain’t nothin’ bigger.”
“Tell me what to do.”
He ducks his arms out of the jumpsuit—they’re lean and wiry, but strong. Little tufts of white hair on his shoulders poof up outside his tank top. He ties the sleeves of the jumpsuit together at his waist. “If Jules is in on this, I doubt there’s anything official from the military... Eh, let’s just take the damned thing and get fired later.”
Charlie smiles. “You’ll be treated like a hero. They’re not gonna fire you.”
He scoffs. “They better, damn it! I’m tired of pushing that stupid broom around.”
Wow. “Alright. If anybody asks, tell them I have some questions about the helicopter. Bullshit something.”
“No worries. Colonel, right?” He points to a pin on the collar of Charlie’s uniform. “I always liked the colonel’s silver eagle.” He motions to the rest of the uniform. “I’m not sure what this all is, but I’d guess it’s a Guard uniform.”
Charlie smiles and nods, then Danny leads him out of the broom closet. Outside, the group of people stand and smile, with Goatee Guy in front. “Oh, got a little hot in there, eh Danny?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He walks past him.
“What’s the rush, huh? Oh yeah, I forgot, there’s an emergency.” He laughs. “Retirement home need to meet their numbers?”
Charlie once again considers drawing his sword and scaring the guy shitless, but Danny doesn’t give him the chance. “Shut the fuck up, Jack…ass, you sorry excuse for a man. Go back to looking at porn on your phone and playing pocket-pool. Stay the hell out of our way; we’ve got work to do.”
Goatee Guy—Jack—turns red, and Charlie is finally pleased that he has shown restraint so far. While Danny walks away, his back is turned, and Jack leans forward to shove him. Charlie reaches one hand up in a flash, and with his full vampire strength, he pushes against Jack’s shoulder.
The prick goes flying ten feet off to the side, and the others gasp.
Charlie turns to face the bystanders. “You heard the man. Danny and I have work to do. Stay out of our way.”
“What the fuck!” The policeman in pursuit of Jules is having a hard time. He’s given up using his windshield wipers; it’s clear they weren’t designed to clear the glass free of sod.
Jules drives the pickup truck not like she stole it—because she bought it with cash—but like it’s a disposable item…which to her, it is. Whenever possible, she rams into objects and launches debris at the police car behind her. She just tore through a freshly sodded lawn, which now requires a good deal more work.
She checks her mirror. Not giving up yet, huh? Let’s see… I really have to get on my way... Yes! That looks like fun. And right on cue with the beat-drop!
She stomps the pedal and steers toward a golf course sign on her right. In the song, the beat drops, and at the same time, she fishtails the truck, clipping the left post that holds the large sign. It collapses to the left, and she steers behind the falling sign to the right and up a steep bank. The truck’s turbo diesel engine spits so much torque that she rips two inches of dirt out from under the tires, blasting it behind her as the truck tears straight up the hill and through shrubs.
The cop steers around the sign to the left in a wide circle, then he briefly considers his options. 1) Gun it and pray the way to the top. 2) Drive around and pray to find the truck, and then try and catch back up to this maniac. 3) Give up and go home... “Fuck it.” The cop floors it. The full three hundred and sixty-five horsepower of the Interceptor’s engine rips into the tires, spinning them a moment before they catch in the grass.
The Interceptor climbs the bank and loses some speed, but the cop keeps the pedal down, and the tires get just enough to grip as they spin on the grass to push the car over the top.
For the first time in this cop’s life, all four wheels of his vehicle catch some air. “Woo-hoo! OH BOY!”
The hill is a boundary to a water feature, and the Interceptor is about to touch back down on its declined slope.
When Jules reached the top of the hill and saw the water feature, she laughed as she turned and hugged the outside edge of the water. Then she hit the brakes and stopped, and now she watches in her mirror with anticipation.
The Interceptor reconnects with earth, and the cop swerves hard to avoid the water. It’s hopeless though, thanks to the car’s momentum and lack of traction on the hill’s smooth bank. The car skids almost straight into the water, barely angling into the attempted turn at all.
“Nice.” Jules notices her disheveled hair in the mirror, and she smiles at her reflection. What did Deina call this look? Rough and tumble? Ha!
Jules speeds across the grounds of the golf course and then back onto the street. A half mile later, she makes her turn onto the road for Dulles International Airport.
In the Interceptor, which is windshield deep in water, the cop shakes his head. “They are NOT gonna believe this shit back at the station!” I’ll get Tony to edit the dash-cam footage to some kickin’ music, then I’ll show it in the breakroom!
Hamid follows the GPS to the hospital. When he arrives, he parks near the ER’s awning and pops the trunk. He leaves the keys in the ignition, steps out of the car, and lifts the trunk open—the man inside is still unconscious.
He leaves the trunk open as he walks into the ER. In the lobby, all the chairs are filled. People sit on the ground where there’s space or stand around and gripe where there’s not, and hospital staff sweat as they rush around. Hamid walks up to the check-in desk and interrupts with his deep, strong voice. “Excuse me, there’s a man in that car’s trunk.”
The girl at the desk has a phone’s h
andset pressed to her face while she writes something down. “Alright, alright! Hold on.” She looks up at Hamid. “Whattaya want?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He strolls past the desk and down the halls, pretending he knows where he’s going.
After some exploration, he passes through a door to the quarantined wing, peeks around the corner, and sees Flying Eagle standing guard.
When the guard notices the prime minister, his eyes widen.
Hamid holds a finger to his mouth, then waves Eagle to him. He leads him around the corner, through the doors, then down the hall before stopping and turning to face him. “Guardsman Flying Eagle, correct?”
“Yes, sir. Are you alright, sir? How can I help?”
“I need you to deliver a message.”
Fifteen minutes later, Tatsu relieves Flying Eagle and takes his watch—Eagle has a half hour before he’s to take the other station. He grabs some snacks from a vending machine, then goes room to room, telling everyone he’s just checking in on them on his time off. He continues until he finds Sadie. Eagle checks in with her and the others in the room, and then he finds a place in the hall to stake out the door.
When Sadie emerges from the room, Eagle walks up to her. “Elder Costanza, here. I got that snack for you.”
Sadie tilts her head and squints at him. “I—”
“They didn’t have what you wanted, but I hope you’ll like this instead.” Eagle extends out a package of salty carbohydrates.
What in the world have you been smoking? Sadie takes the snack and is surprised to find a slip of paper in Eagle’s hand, underneath the crinkly plastic. Ah. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Eagle nods and walks away.
Sadie slips the paper into her pocket and opens the bag. She eats one of the cracker-like snacks—a decision made from her intention to play the part—and she immediately regrets it. Oh, my god. That is horrid. She chews it and swallows, then she ducks into a bathroom. She reads the paper:
Fifteen o-three, fifteen o-three... Eddy is fifteen and...if my Jeep lost a wheel, it’d have o-three? That’s weak, but it’ll work. She leans over a sink, washes her hands with the note still in them, and rubs the paper and her hands under the hot water until the paper dissolves into pulp and washes down the drain. She splashes some water on her face, and on her way out, she tosses the snack bag in the garbage.
Down a hall outside of the quarantined wing, Hamid sits on the floor of room 1503 and meditates. When he hears someone turning the door’s handle, he untwists as he stands and faces the door with a single finger pressed across his lips.
Sadie closes the door, walks over to him, and hugs him. “I was worried for you.”
He pats her on the back. “Thank you for coming. You didn’t tell anyone?”
Sadie steps back. “No one. What’s going on?”
He sits down on the bed and motions for her to take a seat nearby. “For some time, I have believed that there was someone plotting against me and members of the High Council. I hoped I was only being paranoid, but then Ms. Wollstone approached me with the same concern.”
Sadie is nodding. “Mary mentioned her suspicions to me, and then asked me if I would take a more active role in the House... Do you know that she’s missing? Also, what happened? Why were you not brought here? Do you know who—”
Hamid holds his palm up to her. “So many questions without answers, but I know that Mary is missing. I first asked Flying Eagle to deliver the message to Mary, and he told me. I was kidnapped, and I was to be brought somewhere, but where I do not know. I must assume that Mary was taken by the same people. Now listen, Sadie, Mary and I talked about bringing you in because we both trust you. And now, I need your help.”
She nods. “You should know that I nominated myself to join the High Council in Mary’s place, else Flaxman might have tried to assume your authority as the interim prime minister. I received the required votes, but the Council hasn’t yet convened nor confirmed me.”
He smiles, and his eyes soften. “Excellent. That was brilliant, well done. What I was saying though—and please, I’m tired and weak, so please let me finish. What I am saying is that whoever is working against the High Council from inside may in fact have other conspirators working with him. While my presence isn’t widely known, I have the advantage, and I need to find out who is working against us.”
“Whoa Hamid, you said him. You know who is against you?”
He nods. “Councilor Flaxman, I suspect. But as I said, perhaps others as well. I just don’t know.”
Sadie shakes her head. “But how do you expect to find out? Set up some sort of trap?”
“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. I’m just going to ask Robert, and I need you to make sure he finds me…alone.”
Sadie withdraws from him and frowns. “Hold on, that’ll tell him you’re alive? Then you lose your advantage. I don’t understand…”
Hamid caresses his own forehead, feeling the ancient cracks that traverse it and the hundreds of scars that have faded into his dark skin. “There’s no doubt in my mind that he was aware of what was to happen at the Pentagon. In some way or another, he is connected. He is partially responsible for the deaths of all those people and for the injuries suffered to the elders here. I intend to discover the larger plan, or at least, delete him from it.”
“You want me to lead him to his death? I hate the guy, but I don’t necessarily want him dead.”
Hamid shakes his head while his gaze stays locked on Sadie. “Even if he knew that all those people in the Pentagon would die and yet did nothing? Even if you had stayed on the tour, and your arm was eaten off by a zombie? What then?”
Sadie shakes her head. “How are you so sure that he’s connected?”
Hamid sighs. “It will be hard for you to understand, but there are benefits to being very, very old. Your body starts to change in new ways. You become more observant to things… Leave it at this: I am almost certain.”
“Was he working with Dr. Melgaard?”
“I do not know, yet, but it is likely.”
Sadie stands. “I will bring Flaxman to you, but I need you to do something for me in return.”
“Go on...”
“I need to find Dr. Melgaard. If Flaxman knows anything that will help me find him, I need that information.”
Hamid stands. “Agreed. Make sure you are not seen leaving with Robert. He may not return, and after I deal with him, I may not be able to reveal my presence to the others. You must protect yourself from possible retaliation from his conspirators.”
“I understand.”
“I will be here, waiting.”
Sadie thinks of a plan while she walks back to the wing where the elders are. On the way, she stops at Tatsu’s guard station.
He bows.
She bows, but out of respect for his deep respect, she does not bow as low as he does. Then, she stands and does not proceed down the hall.
“Is there something I can do for you, Elder Costanza?”
Sadie looks around to see if anyone is nearby. There’s a doctor rushing out of a patient’s room, and she waits. When she’s ready, she turns back to Tatsu. “My husband said he knew you in Japan, long ago, and that you fought alongside him.”
“Hai.”
“Was that before or after Red Pines?”
He swallows hard, but he doesn’t break his eye contact with her. “I fought alongside him, before.”
She takes a step closer to him and whispers, “Would you stand with him against his enemies now, as you did then? Would you risk as much today, as what he lost at Red Pines?”
“Yes. Without an instant of hesitation, I would.”
“Are you sure? Why should I trust you?”
“Because: you already do.”
“There, that should do it. Whattaya think?” Enrique pinch-zooms out on his phone with his uninjured hand and shows Eddy the manipulated image of the ring.
Eddy takes the phone and pans around, then
zooms in. “Wow, this looks really good. Where’d you learn to use Photoshop?”
“Making posters and things for my Jiu Jitsu club. Here, this is the picture of the other side.” He swipes to another image.
Eddy checks that the television is plenty loud to mask their conversation. He talks quietly, just in case. “Are you sure these are the faked versions? I mean, they look perfect.” Eddy picks up the sheet of symbols that Charlie drew for them to put on the ring. They match exactly. “Yeah, this is great.”
“Thanks dude. So now what?” Enrique sets his phone down and shifts on the bed. The doctors had cut some of the burned hole out from his leg, and it’s bandaged. An IV keeps his fluid levels topped off.
“Email me the original pictures. Even though my dad took a copy of the transcribed symbols with him, I’d like to have a backup.”
“Good idea. Then we need to print the fakes out, right?”
Eddy nods. “Yeah. Email me those too, but in a different message or something so I can’t get confused. I can print the faked versions from my inbox as long as I can find a computer to use. I bet that nurse could hook me up.” He sighs. “I’ll tackle all that, and you get to take the bullet and destroy an ancient artifact.”
“Why me?”
Eddy smiles. “Because it’s hardcore, man, and because you’re not supposed to walk around on your leg while it heals, so you can’t go printer hunting.”
“Alright. Gold is soft, right? You think I can just scrape the markings off with a knife?”
“Just make sure that the two pieces of the ring fit together, and that there’s nothing left of the original inscription.”
“No problem. Okay, wait, let me send you the pics. What’s your username on IV?”
“It’s the real vampire Eddy, except all one word in CamelCase, starting-cap style.”
“Huh?”
“Every first letter is capped, and there’s no spaces.”