by Mark Tufo
“Take care of it, Baggelli.” Overland was keeping watch over his gunny.
“Think we got a bite.”
Overland stood and noticed that Baggelli had backed up and that the Marine was covering something. “We need to take a look at that, son,” Overland said.
“I said I’ll be fine.” Tommy was standing now, a menacing look upon his face.
BT was listening to what was happening in the back. He covered his pick up. “Grimm, get us out of the killing zone fast, Tommy is in trouble.”
“It’s a cement truck, Gunny, not really built for speed.”
“Then find a steep hill to coast down!” BT yelled at him.
Grimm was concerned the gunny would find a way for him to do push-ups while he was driving if he didn’t pedal faster. He got another mile away before BT ordered a halt; the big man had jumped down before they’d come to a complete stop. When he climbed up to the back of the truck, he found three very wary SEALs watching Tommy.
“Sergeant, you should ride up front.” BT was talking to Tommy.
“Gunny, your man here may have been bitten. He needs to be checked immediately,” Overland said.
“We’ll do it up front.”
“I can’t allow that,” Overland stated. “He poses a risk to everyone on this mission.”
“Major, this is Lieutenant Talbot. We had a deal. I was in charge of my mine and you yours.”
“All due respect, Lieutenant, that was before we had a bite. I don’t think you and your men are thinking clearly. And with you not here…”
“My gunnery sergeant is up to the task of knowing what’s best for my squad, and if you want to talk about risk, bringing a busted up vehicle into the midst of a zombie horde I think goes above and beyond anything we signed up for.”
“Zombies are following.” Rose had come to back up her squad.
“I can see blood dripping from his arm. If he’s infected, he could turn within the hour,” Walde said, trying to interject reason.
“Gunny, get this rig moving.” Overland could see a troop of zombies running towards them up the road.
“Of course, sir, as soon as my sergeant is resting comfortably up front,” BT said. “Running out of time.” He didn’t need to turn to hear the slapping feet of many pursuing zombies. Tommy shouldered past Baggelli; Reed stepped out of the way.
“You know what to do…” Overland started.
BT walked away with the other two before he could finish. “Get us out of here.” Grimm was fixated on the blood on Tommy’s arm.
“You bit?” he asked.
“Sliced,” Tommy responded, but he kept his hand over the wound.
“We should get a dressing on that.” Rose was fumbling in her bag.
“Demo and first aid in the same kit?” BT asked.
“Have you ever seen a woman’s purse?” she smiled. “And this is three times that size. I could fit a bed in here. Can I see your arm?”
Tommy did not move.
“Sergeant, Overland might have given you a pass, but Major Eastman is not going to let you on the plane if we can’t confirm you weren’t bitten.”
“BT, we may need to initiate another plan,” Mike said. BT knew this was code to change frequencies. Eastman might still be able to pick it up, but the likelihood that Overland could scan to it before they were done was minimal. “Tommy.”
“It’s pretty bad, Mr. T.”
Mike wiped his brow of the sweat that had formed there. “Bitten?”
“No.”
“That’s good, right?” There was relief in Mike’s voice.
“A bone shard ripped me open.”
Rose and Grimm’s eyes both got big, BT sighed in distress.
“It’s not a bite, though,” Grimm said. “Right? So that means he’ll be okay.”
“What are they up to?” Overland said, tapping his earpiece. “They switched frequencies. I don’t trust them.”
“Sir, I watched the sergeant save the gunny; he’s a tough bastard,” Reed said.
“No one can fight off a zombie infection,” Walde said as she got the gunny to drink some water. He stirred slightly as he gulped the liquid down. “Slow, Gunny, or you’re going to throw it back up,” she warned.
“Start scanning; see if you can pick them up,” Overland said to Baggelli and Reed.
Reed wanted the Marines to sort their mess out, not have him and his team dragged into it. He saw the fierce loyalty they had for one another; if the SEALs inserted themselves into the mix, it could make for muddy waters. He wasn’t going to defy his major, but he also wasn’t sure if he was going to let him know if he happened across their conversation.
“How’s he doing?” Overland asked.
“Better,” Forsyth spoke with a dry rasp. “Couldn’t get a better ride?” He was looking up at a concrete-coated blade.
“Limos were all booked up. Good to have you back,” Overland told him.
“Whatever you did, you shouldn’t have risked it.”
“I couldn’t leave you there.”
“And yet you should have.” Forsyth raised his arm and pulled back his sleeve to show a perfect bite mark. The edges were red, ragged and oozing.
“Did that just happen?” Baggelli couldn’t believe that after all this time and successfully getting him away from the zombies that they would lose him in the eleventh hour.
“That looks old…?” Walde was putting antiseptic on the wound and inspecting it closer.
“Insurance policy,” Forsyth said. “Got it the first day. They said they knew you’d be back, you’d be able to see I was alive. And, on the slight chance you were successful, I still wouldn’t get away.”
“What is going on? That was over two weeks ago—you’d be a zombie. Could he be immune?” Reed said.
“I’m not.” Forsyth’s head sagged.
“Max, tell me what’s going on,” Overland asked his friend.
“It’s in me. I can feel it, like a spider lying in wait for its prey, ready to pounce. They told me there was no escape for me. Jim, don’t let me…I don’t want to become one of them,” he implored his friend.
“No one’s turning into a zombie,” Overland told him, though there was not much conviction behind his words. He stood; none of this made sense to him…zombies talking, leaving ticking time bombs in people. The possibility he could lose his best friend. None of it. He was seething by the time they pulled up to the airfield. He jumped down off the back of the truck and went a few yards away so he could compose himself.
Sergeant Winters was heading their way with a saline IV, to get more fluids into Forsyth. He climbed into the truck; the gunnery sergeant weakly pushed him away.
“Can you do a test?”
“A test for what?” Winters was confused.
“I’ve been bitten.” There was no need to clarify.
“It’s an easy enough test, but not something done out in the field. How long ago?”
“Over two weeks.”
Overland piped in. “That means he’s not going to be one of them, right? We know the incubation period is twenty-four hours or less, right?”
“I mean, as far as I know, that’s the truth. There could be exceptions, though this does seem extreme.”
“What about him being immune?” Overland was reaching.
“That’s something we’ve not seen yet. It’s a lot like rabies; once you’re exposed, it overwhelms the body’s defenses.”
“Don’t listen to him. As much as the major wants to believe otherwise, I’m infected, and I fear the clock is ticking now.” Forsyth was attempting to make peace with the inevitable.
6
Mike Journal Entry 5
“Help me up,” I asked Stenzel.
“Are you serious? You almost died a couple of hours ago,” she replied.
“Right, it’s in the past.” I groaned and moaned as she lightly pulled me into a sitting position. “That sucked. Now help me stand.”
“Sir, if you need help standing, doesn’
t it make more sense to stay lying down?”
“Stenzel, when have I ever made more sense? Don’t make me order you,” I told her when she hadn’t moved.
“Let me at least find something you can balance with.” She was rooting around the supplies on board; she came back a few minutes later with a large crowbar used to open crates. “Even has a handle.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want him to fall and hurt himself more,” Deneaux said.
“I told you she cared,” I told Stenzel. “And as far as my cane goes, I don’t think it’s ergonomic but it’ll do, thank you.” If I thought sitting hurt, standing was a whole new level of tormenting fun. “Stay close,” I told her as I wobbled. I needn’t have worried; she was standing there with her arms outstretched, like a Little League catcher waiting for the throw to the plate. “We need to go outside.”
“Sir, seriously.”
“I’ll flop my way there if you don’t help.”
“He can’t help himself, dearie; don’t you know that the world revolves around Michael Talbot?”
“I wish she would talk less,” Stenzel said.
“You and me both.”
“Sir, not sure what’s going on out there, but I think you might want to take a look.” Kirby had come back on the plane.
“Kirby, get your ass over here and help me,” Stenzel said.
I had the majority of my weight distributed between the two of them and I almost said fuck it. I squinted as the sun hit my eyes; Forsyth was sitting in a lawn chair acquired from who knows where. Winters and Overland were hovering over him. I noticed Tommy, BT, Grimm and Rose all together; it looked like a circled wagon type of thing, and off to the side, keeping a wary watch on everything was Overland’s entire team.
“Give me the low down,” I told Kirby.
“Looks like their gunny has been bitten and maybe Sergeant Vangoth, as well, but he’s not showing anyone.”
This I already knew, I was concerned about both men. I thought Tommy could fight off the infection, especially since it wasn’t a bite, but as far as that went, I couldn’t be sure.
I could hear Overland talking to Eastman about getting the bird ready to fly. Winters got an IV going into Forsyth and then went over to look at Tommy. Overland waved to Sergeant Walde to help get Forsyth aboard. The major looked rough; his face was pale and his red-rimmed eyes showed every bit of the stress he was feeling.
“Lieutenant, good to see you up,” he said as he moved past.
“Up?” Kirby murmured, “I’m carrying him.”
I was thankful when BT came to me instead of having to be dragged there. “What’s with the Royal Guard?” I asked about Overland’s men.
“They’re making sure Tommy doesn’t turn.”
“Get him on board. We’re leaving soon,” I said.
I noticed Baggelli and Reed on an intercept course as my squad was coming. “Just hold up right there. This is none of your business,” I told them.
“We don’t take orders from you.” Baggelli was all business.
“So, whose orders are you following right now? Your own?” I asked. “Because if the major is worried about allowing potentially infected people on the plane, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Baggelli looked to Reed; he didn’t have an answer for that. “I’ll tell you what, Corporal, we’ll keep an eye on our man, you do the same for yours.”
“If it’s all the same, we’ll watch both,” he replied.
“It’s not all the same, Corporal. I’m telling you to stand the fuck down or I’ll put you down.” Big words from a man barely standing, but he must have seen something in my eyes or the eyes of my squad because instead of letting the situation escalate, he walked past and got onto the plane.
“How you doing, kid?” I asked as Tommy came over.
Winters had wrapped the wound; the dressing was already taking on a crimson hue.
“Concerned,” was all he said.
“Anything I can help with?”
He shook his head. I had a feeling about what he needed to do, I just didn’t know how he was going to accomplish it—or if I even wanted to know.
“What do you think the odds of survival are for those around you?” Deneaux would have made me jump if I’d had the power to do so on my own.
“Like a scary old ninja! Fuck woman,” I said, “how did you get out here?”
“You should know by now it’s a better rate around him than not.” BT didn’t walk into her, but close enough that they would have traded paint if they were cars.
Major Jackson came to the doorway to let us know we should get back on.
“Mush, Kirby,” I told the private.
“What are you doing with her?” BT asked.
“Bringing her back.”
BT arched an eyebrow.
“I think she’s changed. Reformed and everything.”
“Seriously, Talbot.”
“She’s got Etna wired to blow if something untoward should happen to her.” Deneaux was smiling; BT, not so much. “We’re taking her back and I’m going to make sure she and I are attached at the hip until every device is found.”
“I hope your shots are up to date,” BT said. “Had a lingering case of diarrhea once…she reminds me of that.”
“Eloquent, as always,” Deneaux said.
“Seriously? How do you think people are going to respond when you tell them you have their homes rigged to explode? Cuff her to something sturdy.”
The rest of my squad was with me as we went back in. Overland and Forsyth were in the back murmuring, although with the props spinning, they could have been having a shouting match and we wouldn’t have heard what they were saying.
Baggelli looked like he wanted to start kicking things around; near as I could tell, none of it was directed our way, just angry in general. That was something I could get behind. So many unknowns and not even close to feeling a hundred percent made it that much more difficult to contemplate how we were going to deal with the rest of this. It was likely I was going to be put on the side of defending Deneaux once we got back. There was a distinct possibility that Bennington would want to hang her from her toenails. And there was more than a likely possibility that someone, or ones, at the base would want her dead, especially from within her own circle, as they had the most to lose if she somehow turned state’s evidence, which she would in a heartbeat if she stood to gain from it. I would end up being her shield and this would be after she blew my home up.
Deneaux haunted me like some particularly embarrassing episode that happened in my past. No one but myself gave it a thought anymore, and yet, it still made me lose countless hours of sleep as I dwelled upon the stupidity of my actions. Honestly, if you ran a ticker on your life, you’d see possibly hundreds of cringeworthy things that, even years later, you wish you could scour from your memory; they remain fresh as the day you fucked up. But think of it this way, no one but you gives two shits; everybody else is over it. If they even remember it, which they probably don’t. Given enough ink and paper, I could write down every misdeed I’ve ever performed; given the same allotment of supplies, I’m not sure I could do the same with all the boneheaded things I’ve witnessed, but that stuff doesn’t mean crap to me. What it boils down to is, we punish ourselves over things that mean so little to others and to the world in general.
Where the hell was I going with this? Oh yeah, I wanted to kill Deneaux. Maybe a leap in logic, but a truth, nonetheless. She knew the game too, though. No way she was going to reveal every card in her hand; she couldn’t. Maybe it was time to dip my toe in the deep mud hole once again.
I gingerly sat down next to her, and strapped my seat belt in just as Eastman told us we were about to get underway.
“Could you strap me in?” Deneaux asked, showing her handcuffed hands.
“I could, but I don’t care if you go flying about the cabin like a drone with a busted guidance system.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have more women clamorin
g to be with you. Or should I ask what you have over your wife’s head that she feels compelled to stay with you rather than let that be revealed.”
“Oh, enough about me. Let’s talk about you for a change.”
“My favorite subject,” she replied.
“Of course it is. What kind of wannabe world-ruling narcissist would you be if it wasn’t?”
“Get on with it then. If we can’t have a civil conversation, I would rather be left alone.”
“I’m thinking…when you were plotting your hostile takeover of the known world, you obviously made allies with people that could help you further your agenda. Correct?”
She said nothing; she wanted to see where I was going with this before she committed.
“Feel free to chime in whenever you want; I’m not wearing a wire, and I would think the engine noise would make any audio I could record inadmissible anyway.”
“Rest assured, Michael, I’ll respond if you say anything worthy of my time. And just so you’re aware, smugness does not become you.”
“Smug? This isn’t smug; this is pain. My drugs are wearing off. Might be a little indigestion as well. MRE’s aren’t known for their gentleness on digestive tracts; be a damn shame if I gassed the both of us out the entire trip back.”
“Michael, coy doesn’t work for you either. You’re practically bursting with what you want to say to me, so let’s skip over the banalities and the nonsense you imagine to be humor and get right to it.”
“How to ruin a boy’s dream…and, hey, toilet humor is one of the oldest and best forms of comedy.”
“To a seven-year-old.”
“The most innocent age of children. I think they have it right; can you imagine if we all stayed at that mentality? I think the world would have been like the Eden we’d read about.”
“If we all acted like seven-year-olds, no one would make it to eight.”
“Sort of the point, but I get where you’re coming from. Let’s move on then. So, in your quest for world domination….”
“Again with the dramatics. I wished to run Etna Station the way it should have been, that’s all.”
“Dictator, dick head…all starts with a dick. Anyway, so you threw your lot in with what I would suspect are an unsavory bunch. True?”