Z-Minus Box Set 2

by Perrin Briar

  “We could commandeer something,” John said.

  “No,” Mark said. “It’ll leave us too open to attack. We’ll continue on foot.”

  John turned to Daoud. It was the first acceptance of Daoud’s existence.

  “I hope you’re not getting any ideas about revealing our position to your old friends,” he said.

  “Not unless you give me good reason,” Daoud said.

  John blew across his knuckles.

  “I could give you one, if you want,” he said.

  Jacob came from behind a bush. He looked from John to Daoud and sensed the tension.

  “What’d I miss?” he said.

  Z-MINUS: 7 hours 32 minutes

  They walked through the undergrowth, roots and trailing tree limbs attempting to snag their feet. A fresh breeze stirred their damp fringes. Mark and Jacob took point, Daoud and John covered their rear.

  “How old are you, John?” Daoud said.

  “You want to ask me out on a date?” John said. “You’re not really my type.”

  Jacob snickered.

  “I’d say you were in your mid-thirties,” Daoud said.

  “Don’t you know it’s rude to gossip about someone’s age?” John said.

  “You should have made sergeant by now,” Daoud said. “What happened? Couldn’t pass the intelligence exam?”

  “I’m a fighter,” John said, his words clipped. “I belong in the field.”

  “You don’t want more responsibility?” Daoud said.

  “I can’t imagine any job with more responsibility,” John said. “They give me powerful weapons and tell me to kill people.”

  “But you only follow orders,” Daoud said. “You never make them.”

  “Here’s an order,” John said. “Why don’t you shut your trap?”

  Daoud had hit a nerve, and John made the mistake of letting Daoud know it.

  “Sh,” Jacob said. “Did you hear that?”

  The team froze, listening. They aimed their military-designed paintball guns at the foliage ahead of them.

  The foliage to their left rustled.

  John swung his gun around. Then the foliage to their right shook. None of the team said a word. Their breath froze in their throats.

  A figure lurched from a bush, running at them. Jacob turned to face it. Mark made out ragged torn clothes and a snarling face.

  John and Mark, taking point, fired at the figure. The paintballs made thumping noises as they thudded into the figure.

  But the figure kept coming. Before they knew it, he was on them.

  Mark and John dived aside. Daoud and Jacob kept firing, but the figure still didn’t stop. The figure reached up and drew his fingers across Jacob’s arm and face, making red marks.

  Jacob pushed the figure back. He tumbled over into the foliage. Jacob felt at his face, his fingertips coming away red.

  “What the fuck?” he said.

  “Haha!” the man who’d rushed them said as he got to his feet. “I got you!”

  He jumped in the air, pumping his fists in victory.

  “You see those?” he said, pointing to the marks on Jacob’s skin. “That’s fifty big ones right there!”

  “I’m sorry,” Mark said. “Can we help you?”

  “You already have,” the man said. “But no one can help him now!”

  He pointed at Jacob with a dirty finger. He wore ragged torn clothes and white powder on his face.

  “I repeat: what the fuck?” Jacob said. “Did you just paint me?”

  He squared off against the man, who backed away, eyes wide in fear.

  “It’s all just part of the game, man,” he said. “Didn’t you guys get briefed about the mission?”

  “Why didn’t you fall when we shot you?” Mark said.

  “Those aren’t the rules of the game,” the man said. “I can take as many shots as you can dish out, except to the head and spine. Though I didn’t much enjoy getting shot at. They sting.”

  “Why can you take shots anywhere else?” Mark said.

  The man shrugged.

  “Those are the rules,” he said. “If I scratch you, you’re done. We get a bonus if we infect one of you guys. Hurray for me.”

  “‘Infect’?” John said. “Is anyone else confused by all this?”

  “It appears this is one of the curve balls the major warned us about,” Mark said. “These guys are infected and wander around, trying to infect the rest of us who aren’t infected. Is that about right?”

  “Yessum,” the man said.

  “How are we supposed to kill one of you?” John said.

  “A bullet in the head or decapitation usually does the trick,” the man said.

  The man looked down at his body, at his fingertips covered with red paint.

  “In fact, technically, I’m still alive…” the man said. “So…”

  John put his gun point-blank range to the back of the man’s head.

  “Don’t even think about it, bub,” John said.

  “I can’t control myself,” the man said. “I’m an unthinking, unflinching monster! I must kill. The only possible way of stopping me is to-”

  John pulled the trigger. There was a pop like pulling a stubborn cork from a bottle, followed by a solid thud as the paintball struck the back of the man’s head.

  “Now you’re dead,” John said.

  The man bent over and rubbed his head, as if the heat would help.

  “Ow!” he said. “That hurt!”

  “It was meant to,” John said.

  “What kind of virus is this supposed to be?” Mark said.

  The man scowled at John. He reached into his pocket and took out a card.

  “Here,” he said, handing it to Mark. “You’re supposed to take this after killing me.”

  Mark read the card out loud:

  “Congratulations! You have killed an infected. If you or a member of your team were scratched, you/they are out of the game. Please send the infected person(s) to the drop off point. They will be brought back to base.”

  Jacob threw up his hands.

  “We barely even got started!” he said.

  “Name of the game, I’m afraid,” the man said.

  “What’s your name?” Mark said.

  “Alf,” the man said. “Alfred.”

  “Is there any way we can change your mind, Alf?” Mark said. “Convince you that you didn’t scratch my friend here?”

  Alfred shook his head.

  “Sorry, man,” he said. “No can do. The major warned us you would try something like this. He said not to give in. If we do, and he finds out, I won’t get paid.”

  “How much are you paid?” Mark said.

  “That’s private,” Alf said, pursing his lips.

  “We’ll cover the cost, should anyone find out,” Mark said.

  “We will?” John said.

  “Yeah, we will?” Daoud said.

  “Yes,” Mark said. “We will.”

  John grumbled.

  “What do you say?” Mark said to Alf. “We’re the little guy against the world. The underdog. Can’t you cut us a little slack this one time?”

  “Look, guys,” Alf said, raising his hands. “I’ve got nothing but respect for you. Honestly. The way you defend our country. Wow. And the cool gear you guys have. Awesome. But I need this gig. It could be regular money. But hey, if you ever need a performer at your kid’s birthday party, just give me a call. I’ll make it up to you. I do the best Elvis impression you’ve ever heard. Your kids will go nuts.”

  He opened his mouth in the shape of the famous crooner’s lip and drew a deep breath.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mark said. “Jacob, you’re out.”

  “I’m out of the game already?” Jacob said.

  “Afraid so,” Mark said.

  “Can’t I come with you anyway?” Jacob said. “No one will know. And he barely even touched me.”

  “You heard the rules,” Mark said.

  �
�Oh, man,” Jacob said. “They’re gonna rip the piss out of me when I get back. Must be some kind of record, out of the game within half an hour!”

  “It’ll prepare us for next time,” Mark said. “To be more vigilant.”

  “Glad I could be of use,” Jacob said petulantly. “Fine. Good luck, guys. You take care of yourselves.”

  He turned and headed back the way they had come, slapping Alf on the back and leading him away.

  “And then there were three,” Daoud said.

  John glared at Daoud and weighed the rifle in his hands as if he was seriously considering reducing their number to two.

  Z-MINUS: 6 hours 57 minutes

  Three men. One he couldn’t trust. Versus Major Edwards and God knew how many Special Forces teams, plus these ‘infected’ characters. There was being an underdog and there was being a dead dog. It would take a miracle to win. But Mark wouldn’t quit. It wasn’t in his nature. Frankly, he was grateful to have something distract him from Tabitha and Roach.

  Mark pushed the foliage apart and peered at the road. A jeep sat across it, blocking it. A pair of armed guards stood before it. One was Eddie – the team leader they’d run into at Fort Bragg. The other man was one of his lackeys. Mark thought his name was Tex.

  “Just the guy we want to run into right now,” John said, shaking his head. “How do you want to handle this?”

  Mark looked back the way they’d come.

  “We have to go through him,” Mark said. “Unless we want to take a long detour.”

  “I suppose it’s too much to suppose they’ll be by themselves,” John said.

  “It is,” Mark said. “They’re too relaxed, too calm. Trying too hard to appear nonchalant. There will be more of them waiting for us in the bushes.”

  “No doubt the major put them here on purpose,” John said. “Knowing we would have to go through them.”

  “No doubt,” Mark said.

  “We’re going to have to hit them hard,” John said. “Engage them in the open. Force the others out of the forest to attack us. Then we could take the jeep.”

  “We wouldn’t get half a mile before another patrol picked us up,” Mark said. “Or worse yet, a helicopter.”

  “When do you suggest we do?” John said.

  There was too much to take in, too many things to consider. Mark took a few deep breaths and let his mind grow calm, relaxed. He let his subconscious take over.

  Back when he was a new recruit, Mark had taken part in an experimental study. In recent years neuroscientists had begun to explore the benefits of meditation in everyday life, as well as those of higher functioning activities. They discovered that calming the mind and letting it work independently of conscious thought produced enhanced productivity and creative functions. It was a concept the military took seriously.

  Mark breathed deeply, finding his center. He fed his subconscious all the information and details of the situation before him, forming a swirling orb of ideas that bulged and shrank, concepts parting through his mind, running through potential outcomes, successes, failures, that he either threw out, or merged with other ideas.

  The conscious mind was a Commodore 64, the unconscious a supercomputer.

  “What’s he doing?” Daoud said. “Meditating?”

  “It’s just a thing he does,” John said. “He’ll stand like that until he comes up with an idea.”

  Daoud watched Mark with trepidation.

  “What if he doesn’t come up with an idea?” he said.

  “He will, but it might take some time,” John said.

  It wasn’t five minutes before Mark blinked and came awake. He unshouldered his bag and put his weapon down. He tore some red flowers out by the roots and mashed them between his hands, forming a fine paste. He ran it over his cheeks into several thin lines.

  “John, Daoud,” Mark said. “I want you to scout the forest. Find the other soldiers out here. There might be one, maybe two. Take them out quietly.”

  “What are you going to do?” John said.

  “I’m going to hand myself in,” Mark said.

  Before John could utter another word, Mark stepped out of the foliage with his hands up.

  The patrol snapped to attention, guns raised and aimed at Mark.

  “That’s close enough,” Eddie said.

  “I’m infected,” Mark said. “I’m out of the game.”

  “Already?” Eddie said, chuckling. “Man, you’re more pathetic than I thought.”

  He looked disappointed, like he wished he’d been the one to take Mark out of the game. He lowered his gun.

  “Who got you?” Eddie said.

  “One of the infected,” Mark said.

  “How come you didn’t return to the drop off?” Eddie said.

  “I tried,” Mark said. “I got lost.”

  Eddie barked a laugh.

  “I knew we’d get you, Edwards,” he said. “Without even needing us to fire a shot, either! What were you up to when they caught you? Crouched down with your pants around your ankles? Not the shining star pupil now, are you?”

  “I never said I was,” Mark said.

  “As the boss’s offspring you were always given the best missions,” Eddie said. “The easiest missions. It’s easy to excel when put in the right situations.”

  He couldn’t have really believed that. Sub-Saharan Africa was known as one of the most inhospitable places in the world. Half their tour was spent in the Middle East, and they were pleased to head out there when they did.

  But Eddie hadn’t completely lowered his guard yet. His rifle was still within easy reach.

  “What happened to your rifle, your kit?” Eddie said with a frown.

  “My team took them,” Mark said. “Thought they’d need the extra firepower.”

  “Can’t blame them for that,” Eddie said. “Where were they headed?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” Mark said.

  “Why not?” Eddie said.

  “I’m a corpse,” Mark said.

  Eddie smiled.

  “And might I say, you look lovelier than ever,” he said.

  “Coming out,” a voice from the forest said.

  “Ali,” Eddie said. “Come look at what we caught.”

  Ali came out of the foliage, hands clasped to the back of his head. John and Daoud appeared behind him in crouched positions, catching Eddie and Tex with their pants down.

  “What are you doing?” Eddie said.

  “You’re out of the game,” Mark said.

  The blood drained from Eddie’s face as realization set in.

  “You’re not infected?” he said to Mark.

  “Nope,” Mark said, wiping the red marks off his face.

  Eddie gritted his teeth.

  “That’s against the rules,” he said.

  “In war, there are no rules,” John said. “Drop your weapons.”

  Eddie grinned and reached for his gun.

  “I think I’ve got a twitchy finger,” he said. “I’m sure I can squeeze off one round, even by accident.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” John said, drawing closer, to near-point blank range, aiming between Eddie’s legs. “They might be small, but I can trim them up if you like.”

  Eddie hesitated. He raised the strap of his gun up over his head and lowered it to the ground.

  “Thank you,” John said.

  His eyes never moved from the other soldiers.

  “What do you want to do with them?” he said.

  “Let them go,” Mark said.

  “You’re sure about that?” John said. “If you ask my opinion, they don’t deserve to live.”

  “Let them go,” Mark said.

  John sighed, disappointed.

  “You heard him,” he said. “Get your useless bodies in your patrol car and get out of here.”

  They did, the back wheels of their jeep kicking up a cloud of dust in their haste. Eddie’s sneer could have curdled milk.

  “They�
��ll tell everyone where we are,” John said.

  “Uh-huh,” Mark said. “They think we broke the rules.”

  “We did break the rules,” John said.

  “They feel they can now too,” Mark said.

  He moved to the tree line and retrieved his weapon and backpack.

  “We just opened our very own can of worms,” John said. “And you’re happy with this?”

  “Daoud,” Mark said. “You served under Eddie as your team leader. What do you think he’d do after this?”

  “Honestly?” Daoud said. “He’ll be angry and want revenge. He’ll be on the radio now, telling everyone within range where we are, so they can find us and put us down fast.”

  Mark nodded, as if the news had confirmed his suspicions.

  “Then we’re going nowhere,” Mark said. “We’ll stay here.”

  “You just heard what Daoud said,” John said. “They know we’re here.”

  “And they know we know,” Mark said. “They’ll spread out, searching all around. They’ll ignore this position. If we leave now, it’ll only be luck if we slip through them. But if we wait, we’ll see where they’re patrolling and can escape.”

  John’s eyes moved side to side, sifting through the plan and its possible outcome. He smiled.

  “Remind me never to play chess against you,” he said.

  “Why not?” Mark said. “I’m terrible at chess.”

  “My ass you are,” John said.

  “So, we just sit here?” Daoud said, disbelieving his ears.

  “Affirmative,” Mark said. “We’ll get some rec. It might be a while before we get another chance.”

  Z-MINUS: 6 hours 36 minutes

  John gathered up sheets of moss, forming a soft cushion to lie on top of. Mark and Daoud followed suit.

  Daoud walked off to one side into a small clearing. He bent down and gathered up some rocks, forming a small pile. He reached into his pocket and took out a medal. He placed it on top of the pile. He got on his hands and knees and spoke under his breath, bowing his head in prayer.

  “What’s he doing?” John said.

  “It’s a cairn,” Mark said.

  “A what?” John said.

  “A grave,” Mark said.

  “Ours, probably,” John mumbled. “Now he’s praying over it. Am I the only one spooked out by this?”