by Allen Gamboa
CHAPTER 50: YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT
Nitrex Plant
Hale let out a deep sigh as the black blood slowly dripped down his scarred face. The air in the corpse littered hallway had become stale and rank. The smell of death and corruption thick and suffocating. The big sergeant wiped his face with a blood and flesh splattered sleeve. He glanced down at his feet to see an almost knee high pile of bodies beneath him. Pieces of skin and black blood splashed the walls and floors of the red lit corridor. The hallway looked like the worst vision of hell one could imagine. Unfortunately, this brought him back to the day he waded into a throng of deaders and buried one of his tomahawks into the forehead of his undead wife. Hale had lost control during this attack and found himself reliving the memory of the FEMA camp in Oregon. Hale had slashed through the ranks of the dead, trying in vain to save his family. Arms burning, the blood and flesh covered tomahawks grew heavy in his hands, Hale could feel the adrenaline start to quickly leave his body. He slid the dirty weapons back into their sheaths and turned back to Cross.
“You look like shit!” He gave the redhead a tired grin. Cross was covered from head to toe in black blood and flesh. Pieces of skin were also stuck in her hair. The junior sergeant wiped his dirty chin with the back of her gloved hand and waved her flesh encrusted machete at him.
“You sure know how to make a girl feel special Sarge.” She dropped her arm with the machete to her side. Cross’s shoulders and arms ached horribly. “I could use a hot shot of ibuprofen right now.”
“No shit.” Hale nodded. “You okay?”
“Uh huh.” She grimaced as she pulled a fetid eyeball out of her hair and tossed it to the floor. “I won’t have nightmares about this at all.”
“Nightmares are overrated.” Hale wiped some flesh off the front of his jumpsuit and the top of his slung rifle. Up ahead were two closed double doors, the sergeant could only imagine the fresh horrors behind them. “Think there’s more meat sacks behind those doors?”
“If there is, I feel sorry for the bastards.” Cross smirked. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Well then let’s go play ‘Let’s Make a Deal’ and see what’s behind door number two.” As Hale took a step towards the doors, a hand slithered up out of the pile of bodies and wrapped itself around the sergeant’s ankle. Caught off guard, the sergeant’s foot was jerked backward causing him to slip and fall face first into the unmoving corpse of a headless Deader. Before he could push himself up or turn around, one of the flesh eaters was crawling over his back trying to get to his neck. Hale attempted to throw the Deader off him but found himself too tired to overpower his attacker. Suddenly there was a loud thunk and the hungry corpse went still. Hale rolled the body off his back and glanced up at Cross who stood over him, black blood dripping off her machete.
“You losing your touch old man.” Cross sheathed her machete and offered him a hand up.
“I’m tired as fuck!” The sergeant told Cross as she helped him to his feet. Hale slipped a little on the blood-soaked floor.
“Maybe you should do some cardio once in a while instead of spending all that time lifting buses and shit.”
“Thanks for saving my ass Sergeant Cross. I think you might be right about the cardio.” He nodded towards the doors. “You ready?”
“I am.” She drew her machete. “Are you?”
Ignoring Cross, Hale cautiously stepped over the piles of bodies and made his way over to the closed doors. Cross slipped on the blood slick floor behind him and quickly righted herself.
“You good?” Hale asked. Cross just gave him a thumbs up as she tried to keep from slipping again.
The sergeant put his ear to the warm steel of the door, nothing. He glanced over at Cross, who was now behind him watching their backs. “I can’t hear anything.”
“That’s a good sign, right?” Cross said as she stepped over to Hale. Slipping on the bloody floor, she grabbed the wall to balance herself.
“Oh, yeah. The music has stopped too.”
“I hadn't noticed.” She frowned. “Nice.”
“Here we go.” Hale pulled a tomahawk out with his left hand and grabbed a door handle with his right. The sergeant slowly pulled the door open and carefully looked to his left and then to his right. Seeing the area was clear, he motioned Cross forward.
“What the hell is this place?” Cross whispered.
“Not a damn pharmacy plant, that’s for sure.” Hale said as he quietly shut the door behind them. The two contractors had entered a barracks sized room that was filled with dozens of man sized cages. Six tables sat in the middle of the red lit room. Three of them were covered with drug processing equipment while the other three had leather restraints attached to their blood-stained tops. The room had the rank smell of the dead.
“Cages?” Cross cautiously walked over to a row of empty holding cells. Looking inside the closes one she saw it was filthy, stains of black blood were splattered on its floor. “What the fuck Sarge? The company had to know something about this, right?
“Maybe.” Hale had split off to where the operating tables were situated. “They were definitely up to some shady shit here.” He drew his other tomahawk. “I think we better get the others and get the fuck out of here.”
“I’m all for that Sarge.” Cross said turning her back on the rows of cages. “You…” A thick, rubber gloved hand covered the red head’s mouth and jerked here back into a dark space between the cages. Cross tried to struggle away from her attacker but stopped when she felt the cool barrel of a pistol at her right temple.
“Cross?” Hale twisted around to where he’d heard the junior sergeant last standing. To his surprise, she was no longer there, the darkened holding cages were the only thing he could see. Readying his tomahawks to attack, he carefully walked over to the first row of cages.
“Cross?”
“She’ll be okay if you do what I say.” A man slowly stepped out of the shadows between the cages, using the red headed sergeant as a shield. Holding a blue rubber gloved hand over Cross’s mouth and a .38 pistol shoved into the side of her head the wild haired man in a dirty lab coat moved closer to Hale.
“Don’t try anything!” The man shouted at Hale.
“Okay.” The sergeant stopped moving. He could see Cross struggling to get free from the man's grip. “Just don’t hurt her.”
“That’s up to you.” The man pressed the gun harder into Cross’s temple, the sergeant cursed into his gloved hand and stopped fighting him. “Good.” He told her. “We all want to live, right?” Cross rolled her eyes at that.
“What do you want?” Hale asked.
“You have any transport?”
“Yes.”
“Good, drop all your weapons, take a knee and me and the lady here will take a walk to your transport. If it’s all good, I’ll let her go.” The man smiled as Cross continued to curse under the glove. “What a mouth you got on you!” He chuckled. “All I want is a ride out of this place, your ride.”
“Well, you have about as much of a chance of that,” Hale gripped the tomahawks tightly in his hands. “as going to a strip club and not hearing ‘Pour Some Sugar On me’. Just ain't gonna happen.”
“Then we have us a problem.” The man in the filthy lab coat said as he jammed the barrel deeper into Cross’s temple, drawing blood. The redhead tried to bite his gloved hand and only succeeded in getting a mouthful of rubber glove. The greasy haired man pulled his hand out of her mouth and jerked her right arm behind her back.
“Asshole!” Cross screamed in pain. “Hale, kill this fuck!”
“Cross, remember that guy you met at the Airman’s club, you said he that had the blue pill problem?” Hale nodded at the redhead. “Remember, he was always going….”
“Limp.” She said under her breath.
“No!” The man started to pull the trigger on the .38 when Cross went limp in the man's arms giving the sergeant a big target. Throwing his right tomahawk, he struck the man hard in the s
houlder sending him flying backwards to the floor. As he hit the ground, Cross ripped the .38 from his hand and jammed it into his neck. Screaming in pain, the man grabbed for the tomahawk that was wedged into his shoulder. Hale stepped on the bladed weapon driving it further into the man's upper body causing him to scream even louder.
“Who the fuck are you? “Cross shouted as she pointed the pistol at his face.
“Doc…Doctor Peter Mallini! I'm a chemist for Nitrex!” He howled. “Please…please..”
“Alright Pete.” Hale stepped off the tomahawk. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We’re a pharmaceutical company.” He groaned. “We were attacked by mercenaries looking to steal drugs.”
“What’s with the cages?” Cross asked.
“Look, all we do here is make medicine.”
“Cut the shit?” Hale frowned.
“We make meds and some of the other chemist experimented with the dead.” Mallini could see the disapproving look on Hale's face, he raised his hands in protest. “I didn’t! I just made the drugs! The others did sick shit with the corpses! Not me!”
“How much more disgusting can you get?” Cross nudged him in the side with her booted foot. Mallini groaned. “How much more? You ever hear of a shower? You smell like year old crotch!”
“Hold still, this is going to hurt really bad.”
“Wait!” Hale reached down and jerked the tomahawk free from the man's shoulder. The chemist screamed then passed out.
“I warned him.” Hale said shoving his weapons back into their sheaths.
“Yes you did.” Cross tucked the .38 into her blood-stained vest. “This is some fucked up shit Hale.”
“Beyond fucked up.” Hale removed a battle dressing from his leg pocket and began wrapping the unconscious man’s wound. “Let’s find Doc and the others. We need to get back to Camp FedEx. Cross, we don't belong here. Somethings off.”
“I agree.” She slapped the unconscious man’s hard on the face. Mallini moaned softly then started to regain consciousness. “Guess we take this dirt bag with us.”
“As much as I'd like to leave him here he might have some answers.”
CHAPTER 51: 220LB PAPERWEIGHT
Camp FedEx
“What are you reading there Colonel?”
Morgan asked the Strategic Securities commander who sat behind his desk, feet up reading a magazine. The head contractor, annoyed at Morgan’s intrusion, dropped his copy of ‘Yacht Owner Monthly’ onto the cluttered desk and stared daggers at the Major. “Plan on buying a yacht? I've been on a yacht, was not impressed.”
“What the fuck do you want…. Major?” The linebacker sized Colonel Cruz, leaned back in his chair clearly upset at Morgan’s unannounced entrance into his domain. “I didn't call for you.”
“No, you did not.” Morgan crossed his forearms and moved closer to the Colonel's desk.
“I’m getting reports from staff that the meat sacks outside the barriers are herding.”
“So?” Cruz swung his feet off the desk and sat up. “Undead flesh eaters tend to do that shit! We have enough firepower to keep them out. We beat them before. Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Morgan nodded visibly annoyed at the Colonel's disregard of his observations.
“What the hell is really going on with Lieutenant Uribe’s mission?“
“Easy Major, remember who you are talking to.” The Colonel sat up, now giving Morgan his full attention.
“Listen Colonel, something doesn't feel right with this mission.”
“Major, the whole world is dealing with a living dead apocalypse, does that feel, right? Uribe is just inexperienced.” He jabbed a meaty finger in the Majors direction. “That is why I sent YOUR man along with him. I expected Sergeant Hale to be able to keep the lieutenant on track so we wouldn't have a fuck up.”
“Think something happened to your drugs?”
“You mean the medicine for the Safe Zone?” Cruz frowned.
“No, the real reason you sent my men in there.”
“What the hell Morgan? You spying on me now?” The bigger man growled.
“I’m trying to figure out what kinda hinky shit you and the Captain are pulling. I want to know what kind of fuckery you have sent my people into.”
“You are out of line Major!” Cruz slammed his fist on the desk. “You come in here accusing me of some fucking impropriety. Another insubordinate word from you and you'll be out on your ass. I'll fire you so damn fast you won't know what the fuck happened. Good luck getting your ass to a safe zone.”
“Cruz, you threatening me?”
“No, I'm telling you what will happen if you don't keep your mouth zipped and go back to your hut. What is going on is not your business.” Cruz smirked. “Hell, you play nice and maybe I'll even cut you in on the action.”
“What action?” Morgan frowned. The major thought he knew exactly what was going on but he didn’t think it was this bad. Morgan decided to play along. “Colonel, I don’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it comes to my people.”
Cruz leaned back in his big leather chair. “Sometimes the dark is a good place to be Major. You've always done an excellent job for the company Morgan. This time I need you to just look the other way. This is not a bad thing. It's just not a company thing.” Cruz folded his hands across his stomach. “I’m sure your team will be fine. I wouldn't risk assets that I didn’t have too.”
“What is going on Colonel?”
“You know this whole undead thing isn't going to last, forever right? When normalcy returns don't you want to have a big piece of the pie?”
“I hadn't thought that far ahead.”
“And that is your problem Major. This will end. I'm thinking past today. I don't want to be just another piss ant, I've done that. I want to be the big boss. Aren't you tired of working at the ass end of the company? I mean the last run we brought in candy bars and whiskey. Hale wasted resources on some underage girls and their distraught mom. What a fucking pathetic haul.” Cruz leaned forward. “Can I trust you Major Morgan? This is just business. The company has nothing to do with this.”
“Sure.” Morgan nodded. “I could use a nice little nest egg. I’ve been doing this shit work long enough. It sure would be nice to get something other than surviving in return.”
“You know something has always bothered me about the way you got into Strategic Securities.” Cruz tapped his fingers nervously on the desk top.
“Oh yeah?” Morgan sat down. “What is that?”
“Well, how you and the others, active duty military, were released, especially with all that is going on now.” Cruz waved a hand in the air.
“That’s easy and I guess I can tell you now because you won’t be telling anyone else.” The Colonel gave him a puzzled look. Morgan smiled and leaned back in the chair. “Because now we are in business together so I’m sure you can keep a secret.”
“Of course,” Cruz grinned like the cat that had swallowed a parakeet.
“We were part of a black ops team that was sent in to capture the drug lord responsible for the murder of the vice president’s daughter.”
“I remember that whole mess in Texas.” The Colonel pulled open a drawer and removed a half empty whiskey bottle along with two shot glasses. He quickly poured them full and slid one to Morgan.
“Thanks.”
“That shit happened right before all this.” The Colonel said grabbing his glass off the desk.
“Happened at the very beginning of the outbreak. The target we hit was loaded with deaders. It was a real cluster fuck.”
“You catch him?” Cruz asked as he swallowed the shot.
“Oh yeah. Bob the Butcher Camacho. Piece of work.” He took the shot then slid the empty glass back toward the Colonel. “Not bad. Anyway, we snatched him up and the fuck ended up getting bit by his Mama. Real Telenovela shit.” Morgan chuckled as Cruz refilled his glass. “Bob the Butcher, what a greedy fuck. We got his body back to
San Diego and turned him over to the powers that be.” Morgan picked up the full shot glass and just stared at it. “Lost some good men during all that bullshit.”
“Happens.” Cruz said nonchalantly.
“Despite all this shit going on, the Vice President was happier than an ISIS commander in a goat herd. POTUS gave us all honorable discharges, weapons and a Stryker vehicle so we could find and secure our family members.” He sat the glass down on the desk. “Man, I sure do miss that Stryker. You ever been through anything like that?”
“No, sorry to say I haven’t had the honor.” Cruz finished off his shot and refilled his glass. “Sounds like you are a man that needs a good payday?”
“I do.” Morgan curled his lip. “I really do.”
The Colonel studied the Major for a few seconds then sat up and grinned. He reached a beefy hand across the desk for Morgan to shake. The junior officer just stared down at his extended hand.
“Wait, before I agree to anything I want to know what it is I’m sticking my dick in.”
“Fair enough.” Cruz said slowly pulling back his hand. “How in the hell did you find out about this? Was it Blackburn?”
“Yeah,” Morgan nodded. “Seems the boy had a change of heart. He was feeling guilty about getting involved. Plus, he was pretty fucked up.”
“That little bitch. I’ll have his druggie ass for running his mouth.”
“Don’t sweat it Cruz, boy is a junkie. I’ll deal with him. Now tell me what we’re messing with.”
“Krokodil. Folks in the safe zones still like their vices. Krokodil is a big money maker and it’s cheap to produce.” The Colonel took a quick drink then set the glass back down. “That make you queasy Major?”
“No, why the fuck should I care what goes on in the safe zones?”
“I sent Uribe and three others to pick the junk up under the guise of medical supplies. Hale and his team were just escorts. We are talking big money here Morgan. What are a few dead soldiers in the scheme of things, huh?”