by Mark Tufo
“I suppose you’re going to live.” Deneaux was fishing around in her pocket for her cigarettes; this made more difficult by the cuffs she wore.
“For the time being.” I felt better, but it was going to be a good long while before I went out and did a jig; better yet, for anyone that might have to witness that travesty, I would never do one again.
“Where does this leave us?”
“Seriously?” I was looking at the ceiling of the plane.
“I saved you.”
“See, that’s what’s fucked up, is yeah, you did, but I don’t even feel compelled to say thank you. Because we both know the only reason you did it is so you can be in a better position the next time to kill me.”
She said nothing.
“No silver-tongued lie forthcoming?”
“It’s just you and I, Michael. No sense in fabricating something you won’t believe.”
“Don’t do the honesty route with me; tends to throw me off my game.”
“You know Etna is heading down a dangerous path.”
“Go on, tell me how you’d make it better.”
“Your Dewey.”
I turned slightly.
“Oh yes, I’m well aware of him. I also know he’s gathering his forces.”
“Of course you do. You set up that trap in Colorado…oh, I know things. Collier sang like a bird.”
“An unfortunate loose end; seems I tied the wrong one off.”
“The way you play with human lives…so cavalier. It really doesn’t affect you?” I was watching her now, looking for some semblance of humanity in her reptilian eyes.
She deftly switched tracks like a train engineer.
“Soon, Etna will be a complete police state. Bennington will find a reason to dismantle the Civilian Board, and those that do not contribute to the war-machine will find themselves on the outs.”
“You will be the reason he breaks your little party up. He might be under a lot of pressure, but don’t think he can’t see or feel that dagger you’re pressing into the small of his back.”
“I don’t think I like this dramatic version of you.”
“Dramatic? Tell me which part I’m wrong about; the bombs you’ve planted, maybe?”
“The evolving zombies will be the end of us all. Your precious colonel will make sure we all go down in a giant nuclear fireball. He has two more, in case you didn’t know. I can see by your blank stare you had no idea. One of which, by the way, is located dead center of the base; it’s his doomsday scenario, should we become overrun.”
She could have been lying, but if she was, what was the point? Nothing she just said would in any way make me want to take her back with me. Scratch that; maybe I could park her right on top of the thing.
“You and I, we could depose the colonel, run the base together. I mean, if you had a desire somewhere in that mind of yours to be a leader, and I’m not talking about a lowly lieutenant fetching things for others like a glorified gopher.”
“You could be the Queen and I your court jester.”
“Fine, you do as you please, but you know your colonel is losing his grip, and now he has his finger on a nuclear button. Let that one sink in when you think upon your family.”
There was a point there. Now I was left wondering whether it would be safer to stay in Etna or leave, and who would come with me? Would I be better than Bennington if I decided to run the show? The answer was a definitive no. I knew my many failings: quick to judge, quick to act, quick to anger, and none of those were conducive to being a good leader of people. Get rid of Bennington, have Eastman run the show? That was a possibility. I hated that I was even thinking in the same vein as the Lemon Queen.
“It should keep you up at night.” She knew she’d struck a chord.
“Speaking of which, I would imagine you’re going to have a lot of sleepless nights in the near future, you know, running for your life and all. If I were you, I’d get some sleep while you can.”
“Complacency is not a good look on you,” she replied.
“Want me to shut her up for you, sir?” Kirby asked, coming to check on us both. “I’ve got duct tape.”
“It’s alright. I think she’s going to take a nap now and work on a new angle. Is it all clear?”
“Nothing for days—boring, even. The squad is out there having a grand old time and I’m stuck here.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll get your fill of action sooner rather than later.”
“You zip it, lady, or I’m going to make sure I wrap the tape around your head. Try getting all of that off without some serious pain.”
“It’s fine, Kirby, get back outside.”
Kirby made two fists and brought them close to his mouth, as he looked over at Deneaux, I guess showing her what he would do with tape.
“Protégé?” she asked.
“Top of my class.” I again dozed off. I was awakened by intense burning and itching in my midsection. I was still under surveillance from Deneaux. Winters had come over.
“Going to check your dressings. He looked around to make sure no one was watching. He sucked in a breath when he looked at my gut, which was now not much more than a puckered wound. He grabbed the mushroomed bullet that was down by my side. “Somewhere in that blood of yours is a cure to what ails us all.”
I begged to differ, but I said nothing.
“You’re going to want to at least fake this wound for a while longer; people see you up and about too soon, going to raise a lot of questions. Anyone that saw you shot is going to wonder why you’re not dead.”
“Must be a testament to your doctoring skills.”
“I gave you morphine.”
“Like I was saying. Speaking of which, this hurts like a bastard.”
“If you’re fishing for more, I’m not doing it.”
“Any news from the rescue group?”
“They’re just getting into position.”
“Can you get me a radio? I’d like to listen real-time.”
Winters hurriedly applied new dressings to my wounds as Stenzel was coming in.
“You look much better, sir.”
“It’s the drugs.”
“Corporal, the lieutenant would like to be able to hear the rescue groups.”
“On it, Sarge.” She walked away.
“Bright girl like that, I’d say she’s suspicious,” Deneaux muttered. “What would the rest of your team think if they knew?” Her smile looked more like a leer. “Relax. I would never think of telling them.”
“Yet, you felt the need to tell me that. Right now, Vivian, I’m planning on leaving you with enough supplies and a firearm that you might, may God have mercy on me, find another group to torment. You keep testing me, and I’ll keep taking things away. Naked and afraid is no way for one to find themselves these days.”
Whether she believed me or not, it didn’t matter; she shut up and that was all I was looking for. Stenzel had my earpiece and a link through the plane so that I could listen and throw my two cents in, if necessary.
“You sure about this, sir? I don’t want you thinking you can get up and do anything about anything,” she said as she adjusted my pillow and put the piece in my ear.
“I’ll be fine, just moral support.” She looked at me dubiously. She knew I’d try and take action if they got into trouble.
“I would like to hear what is going on as well,” Deneaux said.
I gave her the finger.
“Charming.”
I tuned her out while I listened.
5
Rescue
Major Overland was up in the cockpit with Majors Eastman and Jackson, going over where the plane was set to land and wait.
“That’ll work.” Overland folded up the map. “I’ll leave a security detail with you. I wasn’t expecting that trouble; let’s hope we’ll be more prepared next time. Gunny Tynes.” Overland had walked out of the cockpit.
“Sir,” BT said, walking away from his
now sleeping friend.
“I’d like for you to assign three of your people to security.”
“Will do. Kirby.”
“Oh, come on, Gunny, I don’t want to babysit! All the action is going to be out there.”
“This way I don’t have to hear you running your mouth.”
“What about Rose?” he asked.
“She’s demolitions. She’s going. Winters, I’d like you to stay here and monitor the lieutenant.”
“Will do, Gunny.”
“See, Kirby, that’s how it’s done, no back talk.”
“Sergeant Talbot.”
“You mean I’m painting up my face for nothing? This stuff is a pain to remove.”
“The rest of us, let’s go.” BT motioned for the door.
Sergeant Walde was making herself familiar with the controls of the Stryker.
“How’s it looking?” Overland asked.
“Luckily, sir, they made it easy enough for a Marine to understand.” She was smiling as she looked back at BT and the rest getting in.
“She’s a funny one,” Stenzel said, sitting down. She’d not enjoyed the joke.
“All aboard!” PFC Reed shouted.
Baggelli sat down next to Rose. “How you doing?” he asked in a Long Island accent.
Stenzel rolled her eyes.
“I wouldn’t,” Grimm was talking to Baggelli. “You should have seen what she did with a blasting cap. I’d, um, not known it could you know, fit there, and then, like, boom! Thing was prolapsed. Had to have been hanging down about a foot; looked like a backward anteater.” Grimm shivered. “Couldn’t eat for a week after seeing that.”
Baggelli scooted a foot over, as far as the bench seat would allow. Rose laughed and gave Grimm a thumbs up.
“I could get used to this!” Reed had his head out the top port and had ducked down to shout in.
“Reed, could you just man the gun? I’d hate to have to bust you lower than PFC.” Overland was sitting next to his driver, Sergeant Walde.
“What’s this thing got?” Grimm asked.
“The main armament is a 105 millimeter machine gun and an MK19 grenade launcher, it is seriously going to fuck up some squishies,” Baggelli said.
“Squishies? What are you, seven?” Grimm asked.
“Relax Private. You don’t need to pick up the slack with Kirby not here,” BT said. Baggelli flipped the finger to Grimm, thinking no one but the two of them had seen the exchange.
“You realize, Corporal Baggelli, that you, me and the rest of the squad will be relying on Gunny Tynes’ troops to open a pathway for our withdrawal, correct?” Overland asked.
“Yes sir,” Baggelli said. “Sir, you weren’t even looking.”
“Someday, Bags, you’ll realize that the major is all-knowing and all-seeing; how do you think I’ve got busted so many times?” Reed was again poking his head down.
“Probably because you’re not that bright,” Baggelli told him.
“That too.” Reed was smiling until his helmeted head struck the lip of the turret. “What the hell, Walde! You find your driver's license in a dumpster?” He was rubbing his forehead.
“It’s the machine—had a hiccup,” she said as she checked over her instrumentation.
“Anything to be concerned about?” Overland asked.
“Seemed to stall for a moment; timing? Or maybe the transmission slipped? Or quite possibly both. Without ripping this thing apart, there’s no way to tell for sure, sir,” Walde replied.
“That didn’t feel right, Gunny,” Grimm said.
“No shit. I just banged my head.” Reed again looked down.
“Mechanically, I mean. Something’s wrong. Who knows why this thing was parked where it was; could have been waiting for maintenance, and anything sitting for as long as this has probably needs more than just a quick glance over,” Grimm said.
“How do you know?” Baggelli raised an eyebrow.
“I’m a gear-head.”
“Bullshit. Gear-heads are always spouting off about little known engine components and the timing of a 1970 Mustang or the horsepower of a Camaro, that kind of crap.”
“I’m a self-aware gear-head. I know how little the stuff I love means to the rest of the population.”
“Rare breed,” BT said.
“You should say something to the major,” Grimm said.
“That bad?”
“It’s not good, Gunny.”
“Fuck.” BT ripped his seatbelt off. “Hey, sir…one of my kids is an amateur mechanic, and he thinks what we all just felt could be problematic,” BT told Overland.
Walde looked over at her major. “My sergeant feels the same way,” Overland replied.
“Not turning back then, I take it?” BT asked.
“We’re running out of time. I have to get my gunny and hope that this bucket holds out long enough to do just that. Thank you.”
BT knew enough to realize he was being dismissed. “We’re still a go.” He sat back down.
“We’re ten minutes from dropping you off on Broadway,” Overland announced.
“I was hoping we’d never be back to M&M world,” Rose said.
“We’re all thinking it,” BT said, referring to the loss of Brayden Springer, who had been bitten.
“Keep focus,” Lieutenant Talbot told them. “We all miss the kid.”
“Good to have you here,” BT told him. “And you’re the last one to be telling people to keep focus.”
“Probably right.”
BT and Overland spent a few minutes going over the plan as Rose, Grimm, and Tommy off-loaded the supplies and equipment.
“Good luck and see you soon.” BT saluted then shook the Major’s hand.
“Let’s get rolling,” Overland said.
“Hope this works,” Baggelli said to Reed.
“Of course it will,” he told the other. “We’re SEALs.”
They’d been traveling for ten more minutes when Reed warned them about contact. “Don’t look like they’ve moved at all.” He wondered how it could be possible for Forsyth to survive all this time under these circumstances. If they were able to save him, he wasn’t sure if the man would ever be the same.
“Sergeant, see if you can convince them to move,” Overland said to Walde as she inched the machine forward.
“Roger that.” Reed pulled back on the charging handle. The effects of the heavy caliber rounds were devastating. Zombies were torn instantly in two, skulls vaporized, limbs blown completely off. The carnage was beyond description; the bullets traveled through two, sometimes three, bodies before coming to a rest. Reed, at first, had been sweeping left to right, thinking that the zombies would begin to converge; when they did not move, he concentrated his firing to the front to clear a path.
“Forward, slow.” Overland was watching as he spoke to Walde.
“Moving, Reed,” Walde said as she inched the heavy machine forward.
“This ought to be interesting.” Baggelli had stuck his head out one of the ports in the back.
She’d no sooner struck and summarily run over the first stoic zombie when there was a noticeable shift in the monsters. They turned in a choreographed move, all looking at the truck. The ride got bumpy as it went up and over bodies, melding them into the ground. The resultant cracks of bones and explosions of corpses rivaled the bedlam of the machine gun.
“Not moving away, sir,” Walde reported, though her commander was witnessing the same thing she was.
“Steady,” he told her. He knew it was difficult to witness firsthand the carnage they were inflicting, but they had a mission to complete.
“They’re moving!” Baggelli shouted. “Reed!”
“Yeah, I see it.” The private was once again sweeping his weapon, trying to keep the horde at bay. He knew it was a lost cause, but was going to inflict as much damage as he could before he had to retreat to the relative safety of the interior. Baggelli had now joined in the fray, opening up with his lighter caliber r
ifle. The zombies were running straight into the teeth of the enemy. They were in a frenzied state, wanting to obey the last orders they’d been given to kill any and all intruders.
“In, Reed! Get in!” Baggelli was shooting at targets that had got within feet of them. It wasn’t until the first of the zombies had begun to climb up, that they both went down and closed the hatch locks. The truck engine RPMs were climbing as more bodies piled under and over.
“They look pissed.” Reed was working through the adrenaline of firing the machine gun and the fear of the attackers.
The truck lurched forward and stalled.
“Nice driving, Walde,” Baggelli goaded his sergeant.
“Wasn’t me,” she said through gritted teeth as she restarted the reluctant machine.
“This have to do with what happened earlier?” Overland asked.
“Could be, or could be something completely unrelated. Either way, it means trouble.” She pointed to her instrumentation; two of the indicators had lit up an angry red.
“We’ll make it,” Overland said. Walde appreciated his enthusiastic optimism, but she wasn’t so sure, and the acrid smell of melting plastic wasn’t helping matters.
“You smell that?” Baggelli smacked Reed’s knee.
“Smell it and I see it.” He rose and was looking at a panel in front of him. “Think we’ve got a fire.” He saw the holder for the fire extinguisher; it was empty. “Bags, look for a fire extinguisher.” Reed was looking for a way to access the panel. Wisps of black smoke were bleeding all around the edges.
“Gunny, you reading us?” Overland asked.
“Loud and clear. Mechanical trouble?”
“It would seem so.”
“I’d advise pulling back, but I don’t think you’re going to do that,” BT said.
“Same distance back as it is forward,” Overland said. “I will not leave him again.”
“Got him on thermal!” Walde was looking at a screen that was predominantly purple with a lone red and yellow hotspot in the center. “Looks like he’s lying down.”
“No way he hasn’t heard our entrance; he needs our help.”
“I’d feel better if he’d at least move his hand, sir.”