by Mark Tufo
“The guilt card? What you did for me, while greatly appreciated, in no way grants you permission to endanger those I care for. You’re the one that put me in this situation. Did you for one moment think I was going to clap you on the back, allow them in and thank you for it?”
“These are my prisoners and, as such, are entitled to…”
“Entitled? Oh, fuck no. They lost that the moment they did whatever unspeakable acts that they have. As Bennington once told me, this isn’t the United States of America anymore. I don’t have to uphold any habeas corpus. There is no due process here, Wassau.”
“I know about you, Talbot. I know you were a screw-up before, during, and after you joined my beloved corps. And I know that you didn’t earn that commission. You’re no more a captain than Deneaux is Mother Teresa. You have no authority here or on this base.”
“You trying to strong-arm me into capitulation?”
“I can talk to the Colonel, have him order you to take the prisoners in.”
“Yeah, because running to mom should work.”
“Talbot,” he started.
“It’s Captain, Master Sergeant. You would do well not to forget that again. I don’t give a goddamned fuck what you think of me or how I came about my rank.”
“Captain.” Somehow, he made the innocuous word sound like a swear.
“Much better. Let’s try it with less venom.” I was pushing his buttons in the hope he would turn his tiny caravan around on his own and I wouldn’t be forced to use force.
Sorrens stepped out; he had his hand on his holstered weapon.
“Have you lost your mind?” I asked him. “Stenzel, you seeing this?”
“On it, sir.”
“Is he painted?”
“He is indeed, sir.”
“Sorrens, I like you; you’re a little weird, but who isn’t? I’m telling you right now, you so much as pull up on that little leather strip holding your firearm in place you will be on the ground with a sucking chest wound.”
“You’re threatening my sergeant?” Wassau was on the verge of losing it.
“Who here has their hand on their weapon? Not me.”
Wassau gave a quick shake of his hand to Sorrens to stand down.
Another truck pulled up. I was wondering if Bennington knew what was going on and had sent back up; for who, though, I didn't know. I was concerned we were about to get into a firefight. Didn’t know what to expect when Major Overland stepped out and walked over; he seemed confused about the tense stand-off.
“Captain, Master Sergeant.”
“Sir,” we both said without taking our eyes off each other.
“Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”
“He’ll tell you; I don’t want your opinion influenced by my color commentary.”
“The good captain here promised sanctuary to Sergeant Sorrens and myself and has now reneged on the agreement.”
I waited somewhat patiently for him to finish. “What the fuck, Wassau. What are you, seven? He can’t make an informed decision with half the facts. Tell him the rest.”
I don’t know if maybe something clicked in his head and he now realized just how insane his request was, but he remained silent.
“Kidding me, right? Okay, that truck right there is full of prisoners; he wants to bring them along as his plus ten.”
The rest of Overland’s squad was milling about, then Baggelli came over.
“Sir, Lincoln is in the back of that truck,” he said. Now I had to worry if they knew this Lincoln and what that would entail.
I’d never seen Overland became so angry so quickly as he turned to Wassau. “You brought that piece of shit here?”
“He’s my prisoner, sir, under my supervision. It’s my duty to protect him,” Wassau replied indignantly.
“Your duty? Your duty should have been to shoot him! Bags get that man out here.”
“Now see here, Major!”
There was some grunting and the heavy smack of a punch or two as PFC Reed and Corporal Baggelli deposited a skinny kid in his early twenties, by the look of him, down on the ground by the major’s feet. He was crying, and there was an angry welt blossoming on the side of his face.
“Please.” He had his cuffed hands covering his head.
“Is that what that little boy said? Did you listen to him?”
Oh shit. My heart sank. Not for the degenerate on the ground but for the thought of what he’d done and the road we were all heading down. Overland had pulled his gun out and had it pointed at the man’s head. The crotch of the prisoner’s orange jumpsuit darkened as his bladder released its contents in fear.
“Don’t!” I had my hand up to Wassau, who was going for his weapon. “Sir, are you sure about this?” I asked of Overland, who had not wavered. Baggelli was watching intently, his mouth hanging open.
He never looked over to me as he spoke. “We were on a mission. Came across this piece of shit…” His words faltered. “The things we found…” Now that he looked over to me, I wished he hadn’t, the haunted look was all I needed to know. “That I didn’t kill him then is a decision I regret.”
“Pl…please, I have a problem! I didn’t…”
Smoke rose from the end of Overland’s barrel. Lincoln had been drilled into the ground, a pool of blood expanding around his head like a crimson halo. Not a person there wasn’t in some state of shock, except for the major who had found a measure of peace in his actions. He’d killed a demon, both literally and figuratively.
“Fuck me,” came through my headset from Stenzel.
“Grimm, Kirby, get over here.” I wanted to withdraw from the situation. I had no idea if it was on the verge of escalation or had been diffused. Didn’t want a part of it either way.
A part of me was thinking about ripping Deneaux and Gadsen out of that truck and following the major’s lead. I could plead temporary insanity; shit, I’d plead permanent insanity if it allowed me the opportunity to kill them both.
“Sir, come on, we need to go.” Baggelli was pulling on his major’s arm; the man had not moved. He looked lost in the moment—partly appalled for what he’d done, and partly appeased. It was Reed that coaxed the man to leave. I had no idea what was going to happen from this point forward.
Overland and his crew left, followed almost immediately by Wassau and Sorrens, after they picked up the cooling body of Lincoln. Kirby, Grimm and myself were staring at the congealing mass of brain and blood at our doorstep.
“Sir, what just happened?” Kirby asked.
I wanted to tell him the beginning of the end, but that was a load of horseshit because we were well into the wrap-up scenes. Wouldn’t be long before the credits started rolling up the screen. I wasn’t even sure if there would be a post-credit scene. Probably wasn’t worth hanging around for. Even if there was some kind of bonus material, I mean, seriously, what was the teaser going to be about? More zombies and the breakdown of humanity?
13
Mike Journal Entry 11
It was a couple of days after the shooting. I went to check on Wassau; just because we had an argument and a fundamental disagreement didn’t mean I didn’t still consider him a friend. He looked tense when I walked into his office. He offered me a seat and a couple of fingers of whiskey.
“I thought I made it abundantly clear I’d rather snort Spam than drink that,” I told him.
“Snort Spam? I’d pay to see that. What can I do for you, Captain?”
“Can we go back to Talbot?”
“We drinking buddies again?”
“If you have something that doesn’t smell like burnt rubbing alcohol, we can talk.”
“I’ve got mimosas.”
“I’ll take one of those.”
“Figured you would, pansy.” He’d not meant it with any malice, as he got up from his desk. He handed me a small six-ounce tin can with a pull top. It did not have a label on it.
“Not some sort of diarrhea-inducing concoction, is it?”
“Tastes like a can.” Still drank the whole thing.
“Is there a reason why you’re here or did you just come to complain about and consume my emergency stash?”
“This may come as a shock…” I paused. “Naw, probably not. Okay. I don’t have a lot of friends.”
“You don’t say?”
“I came to see how we were; to see how you were.”
“I drink nearly every waking hour; been doing that for a solid year now. That’s how I’m doing. So, about the same. As for us, I’ve had some time to reflect. I still don’t think you’re right, but I understand your stance.”
“The offer for you and the rest still stands. Tabitha is with us now.”
“Glad to hear that. Can’t believe she finally gave up her comfortable bed?”
“She didn’t. We had to retrieve it; I don’t think I’ve ever encountered something so heavy.”
“She made you take the frame?” He smiled at that.
“Seriously, Wassau, give your prisoners enough food and water for a week.”
“Like cats?”
“Sure. Look, the zombies are going to attack soon; I’d rather you were with us. In a week, if it’s still all clear, come back and give them another week of provisions.”
“They’re human beings, Mike.”
I was going to argue that no, not anymore, that they’d given up that right. But he just wasn’t of that ilk. Nothing I said, nothing I could do, would change his opinion.
“I’m going to send Sorrens and some of the others as soon as the siren blasts.”
“Wassau, just come with him. I hate to think of you stuck here alone.”
“Not enough for me to bring them, though.”
I remained silent.
“Don’t worry, Captain, I’m a resilient bastard and this place may lack the amenities you have, but it’s secure. I’ll be all right.”
“You’re a righteous prick,” I told him.
“I’ll drink to that,” he responded. “Bennington didn’t do anything to Overland,” he said after a moment.
This I already knew because Overland and his squad were staying with us now.
“Said there was too much going on and the major was too valuable to have in jail. You agree with that?” He was eyeing me for my take.
I fidgeted. Overland had done what I think a lot of people would like to do with someone so lacking in humanity, someone so steeped in depravity. Wanting to do and actually doing, though, there’s a line. Putting a bullet in someone’s head in the middle of the roadway, that is above and beyond most people’s limits, no matter how they might fantasize or big-talk over beers. There were times I would have liked to rob a bank for a cool mil, didn’t do it though. Still, couldn’t find fault in Overland’s action; people like Lincoln, it’s been proven over and over you can’t rehabilitate them, something is wrongly crossed in their minds. Given a chance, they will once again fulfill their sickest desires. No part of me was saddened Lincoln no longer walked this earth.
“Can you agree Lincoln didn’t deserve to breathe the same air we did?” I asked.
“A question with a question. I get it. That’s a classic non-answer.”
“I’m married; it’s how I’ve survived this long.”
He smiled. “I was married once. What?” he asked when I raised my eyebrows. “Gay men can’t get married?”
“Again, Wassau, I could not care less about your sexual orientation. It is how the fuck does anyone put up with a hardcore vegan?”
“Asshole. That was the sore spot in our relationship. A constant source of irritation.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“When he was mad at me, he would come home with a bag of cheeseburgers and eat them on the couch.”
I let out a laugh, couldn’t help it. “That’s some pretty passive-aggressive stuff right there.”
“Nothing passive about it.”
“So, did he leave you after you beat him with a fruit salad or something?”
“Fruit? That some kind of dig?”
“Dammit, Wassau, you know what I meant.”
“I know, I just like busting straight people’s balls; they get so worried they might offend someone.”
“Never really suffered from that affliction. So, I’m taking it was an eggplant, then?”
“Funny. That’s funny. Alberto was up in San Francisco visiting family when it started. I was stationed in San Diego at the time.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him, I’d heard a version of this story so many times they started to blend together. And unfortunately, they all had the same horrible ending.
“Long time ago.” He poured himself another large drink and swallowed it down. “I’m getting over it.”
“Clearly.”
“We all deal in our own ways. If we beat the zombies, how are all the broken people we have left going to make something that works?”
“I have no answer for that. I can only hope there are people more equipped than myself.”
“I think you’d do just fine.”
“That’s just the alcohol talking; I look better being viewed through booze goggles.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Wait, didn’t mean it that way. Your temperament may be a little rough around the edges, but I think you trend toward doing what is right, even if you don’t get there.”
“Thanks, I think. I’m going to head out before there are any other revelations about myself I don’t want to hear. Good talking to you, Wassau, and again consider my offer.” I stood, he shook my hand.
“However, this turns out, Talbot, even though I don’t and can’t agree with all you do, I appreciate your commitment to your people.”
“You are my people,” I told him before walking out of his office.
I was heading for the door that led out when Sergeant Sorrens called out to me. “Captain.” He was having a difficult time looking me in the eyes, had to think he was still having nightmares regarding Lincoln’s demise. “Deneaux would like to see you.”
“How did she know I was here?”
“She said something about smelling bourgeois and burgers.”
“I hate that woman.” I turned and followed him back to where the prisoners were housed.
“Come to gloat?” she asked. She was sitting on her cot, smoking a cigarette.
“You called me back here. Orange looks good on you, brings out the stains on your fingertips.”
Got a patented sneer for that.
“Are you supposed to be smoking in here?”
“Who’s going to tell me I can’t?”
“True enough. What do you want, Deneaux? I have to go and look after the people I care about.”
“Do you believe I still have my finger upon the pulse of this station?”
I looked at her intently; I knew exactly what she was referring to.
“Can we not do the intrigue thing? I’m exhausted, let’s just cut to the chase.”
She made sure to take her sweet time inhaling an entire cigarette.
“Seriously? I read once that each cigarette smoked takes four minutes off your life, if that was the case, you should have died in ‘72.”
She completely ignored me.
“I have a bomb near one of the walls.” She lit another.
I heard Sorrens’ keys drop. He was a few steps behind, probably making sure I didn’t put a hole in her. Can’t say I’d ever really seen the color drain out of someone; sure it’s an expression and people do pale when something shocking happens, but this was like watching a fast-moving drain as his natural hue slipped down his forehead cascaded below his cheeks and descended down his neck.
“Why? Why would you do that?” he asked her.
“Still think all these people deserve your care?” I asked him. He bent over and grabbed the k
eys before moving past me to get closer to her. He was fumbling with the keys.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Deneaux had a slight grin on her face and was watching intently.
“I…I need to know where.” He was shakily putting the key in the lock with one hand the other was reaching for his firearm.
“Michael, perhaps you should tell this young boy this is not how business is conducted.”
“Business? The business I conduct revolves around me handing over ten dollars and getting a double-meat burrito. This isn’t business.” I told her.
“Of course it is. I have something you want and you’re going to give me what I want in exchange.”
“What deranged lunatics are out there that would destroy a wall with a zombie horde outside? Don’t they know what will happen?” I asked the question knowing I’d not get an answer. Plus, I was stalling to see exactly what Sorrens was capable of. He had his gun out and it was wavering; one of those air inflated balloon people would have been more capable of keeping it steady.
“If he puts a bullet in me, Michael, I don’t need to tell you what will happen.”
“You’ll bleed; I know that.”
“Is this really the time to be trite?”
“Scared?” I asked.
“Hardly. He couldn’t blow out his brains with the gun against his head.”
“I…I could!” Sorrens stammered. Not sure if he caught on to exactly the point he was arguing.
“Perhaps you should show us.” Deneaux was bemused.
“Put your gun away, Sorrens.” He looked to me, to Deneaux, to his gun. He withdrew, putting his pistol up and locking the door. I pulled him out of the cell area. He was shaking.
“Sergeant, has she had any visitors?”
He shook his head.
“Sorrens, look at me.” He did so.
“She hasn’t, and I haven’t left this place since our visit to your building. No one has come to see her.
“Any visits for the other prisoners?”
“Nothing, Captain. If these people ever had anyone that cared for them, they’re long gone.”
“How in the fuck would she get word out?” I walked around the office. “Any electronic devices?”
“Nothing. Everything she had with her is in storage.”