by JJ Zep
“Joe,” I said, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. Wasn’t for you, I’d be dead right now, probably Ruby too. But I’m heading south. I’m heading to the park and I’m getting some medical attention for my daughter. You want to head north, that‘s your choice, but we ain’t going with you.”
I expected some protest from him but he said nothing, appeared not to even be listening to me. He had his head half turned and was shining his light back into the tunnel.
“You hear that?” Joe whispered. I stood there in the darkness hearing nothing but the trickle of water and the sound of my own breathing heavy in my ears.
And then, like a plaintive note becoming recognizable as a melody I began to discern something else, far away but closing, the click-click-click of claws on concrete.
“Rats,” Joe said, “ heading this way, a lot of them by the sound of it.” The sound was getting louder now, the chittering of a million claws punctuated by high- pitched squeals. I turned to run.
“Wait!” Joe shouted, “We’ll never outrun them. There was a ladder a ways back.”
I started to protest but he was already moving, and after a moment’s hesitation I followed. We ran towards the approaching mass of rodents, the sound of squeals and scrabbling claws becoming a single wall of noise.
In the darkness, Joe overshot the ladder and by the time he looped back I had already climbed up a few rungs. Joe followed and gave me a signal to keep climbing. When I didn’t move he repeated the signal, more urgently this time.
Over the cacophony below us I shouted, “They can’t get to us here, let’s just wait it out.”
“It’s not the rats I’m worried about,” Joe shouted back, “It’s what they’re running from.”
Just then we heard another sound among the fleeing rodents, a primal roar that echoed and bounced along the concrete corridors amplifying it ten-fold.
Despite myself I shone the flashlight into the darkness as the first of the things appeared. He looked up with sunken eyes and grimaced, revealing a mouthful of jagged, gore-stained teeth.
The creature flew up the ladder, grabbed Joe by the ankle and instantly sunk his teeth in. I heard the crunch of tooth on bone but to Joe’s credit, he didn’t scream nor even make a sound.
I could feel the handgun, heavy in my waistband where I’d stashed it, but clinging to the ladder by one hand, flashlight in the other, it was useless. Instead I climbed down a few rungs to where Joe was, lifted my foot and brought it down hard on the top of the creature’s skull. There was a sickening crack as my boot made contact, and the creature lost its grip and crashed to the concrete below.
“Climb!” Joe screamed, sliding the R5 from his shoulder and he did. Below me I heard the sharp report of the rifle as Joe got to work.
I had almost reached the surface when the manhole cover above me started to shift. Daylight flooded into the tunnel and a face appeared. Momentarily blinded by the brightness I was unable to make out any of its features.
Then the man lifted a finger to his lips and motioned me to keep climbing, and I realized he was wearing a military helmet. I climbed the last few rungs and poked my head through the hole. There were six or seven soldiers encircling the manhole, crouched in shooting positions, rifles aimed at my head.
In the next moment I was lifted bodily from the hole, disarmed and frog-marched some twenty feet across the pavement. A young soldier holding a sidearm indicated for me to lie on my stomach. Lying there flat on my belly, with Ruby still strapped to my back I heard him cock his weapon and thought for a moment he was going to execute us, right there in the street. I braced myself for a shot that never came.
Joe had stopped firing and I now heard the clunk-clunk of the metal rungs as he ascended the ladder. The next thing I heard was the clutter of rifles and one of the soldiers shouting, “Don’t move. We got you covered.” Then I heard Joe laughing as though he’d just been told the world’s funniest joke.
After a while, Joe’s voice, still with a serious case of the giggles, “This what they teach you chuckleheads in the US Army these days. You got me covered? Fucking priceless, you’re in a nice neat circle, you dumb-asses. You open fire now, you’ll end up cutting each other to pieces. Stupid fuckers.”
One of the soldiers sounding very unsure of himself said, “Lieutenant?” and the guy holding the gun on me spoke.
“We got your friend back here,” he said, “so don’t give us any trouble, you hear.” He spoke with a Southern drawl and his voice sounded as though it had just broken.
“Great,” I heard Joe say, “So now the US Army is taking civilian hostages. What the fuck’s this country coming to?”
“Marines, sir,” one of the soldiers corrected him, “we’re US Marines.”
“Woop-de-fucking-doo,” Joe said.
I heard him hustled across the tarmac and made to lie next to me. The young lieutenant was on the radio, obviously reporting back about our capture.
“Joe,” I whispered, “You okay? You were bitten.”
“ Nah”, he said, “Stupid son-of-a-bitch chomped down on my ankle holster. Probably broke his teeth on my .38. “
On the radio the young lieutenant was still getting his orders. “Hold ‘em here sir, no problem sir, yes sir, thank you sir.”
“Peckerwood,” Joe muttered.
The lieutenant finished his conversation and I heard his boots crunching on the tarmac. “Er, gentlemen,” he said, speaking to the back of our heads. “I got instructions to keep you here for now till Major Ba…till the major get’s here.
“We can fix you up some chow, make you comfortable, but we need to keep you handcuffed. So I’d be obliged if you’d place your hands behind your backs.”
“My daughter needs to be fed.” I said.
“Yes, sir, we’ll get to that after a while” the lieutenant said, then to someone else, “O’Neal, handcuffs.
“Now I’m just gonna take the little lady so as we can apply the handcuffs.”
I felt Ruby being lifted from my back and felt a profound emptiness suddenly engulf me. Then the cuffs were clipped in place and I was lifted to my feet.
The lieutenant stood holding Ruby, still wrapped in the maroon coverlet. “My orders are to send the little lady down to base camp,” he said. “They got a hospital there and she’ll be fed and cared for.” He handed Ruby off to another soldier.
“I need to be with my daughter,” I said and made a move towards her. Two soldiers blocked my way.
“I understand sir, but my orders…”
“Fuck your orders!” I screamed. “Ruby!”
“Sir, you need to…”
I wrestled my way past the marines and made a run for it. The soldier holding Ruby was getting into a Humvee.
Behind me I heard a shot and turned to see Joe Thursday down, clutching his leg. The lieutenant, Dangerfield was the name on his nametag, was standing over him, a pistol in his hand. “Next shot spills his brains on the street,” he said.
I looked back to see Ruby being driven away and then for the second time in a week, I was knocked out cold.
I came to in what looked like a hotel kitchen. I was cuffed to a chair and as my vision came into focus I saw too armed guards and another man in military service uniform. Next to him stood Lieutenant Dangerfield.
“Mr. Collins,” the guy in the service uniform said, “Welcome back.” He pulled out a pack of Camels, offered me one, shrugged when I ignored him. He was a burly man, with a steel-grey crew cut, and a nose that looked to have been broken a few times. There was no nametag on his tunic.
A marine entered and whispered something in Dangerfield’s ear. Dangerfield relayed the message to the big guy and he whispered a reply back to Dangerfield. The answer went back to the young marine, who instantly snapped to attention saluted stiffly and bellowed out, “Yes sir, Major Basher, sir!”
The marine quick-marched out of the room and Basher turned instantly to Dangerfield, “I thought I said, no names,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Dangerfield said, coming to attention, “I’ll see he’s disciplined.”
“Disciplined my ass,” Basher said, “Man like that’s a danger to himself and his fellow marines. Transfer him to roving patrols, sector 3.”
“Yes, sir!” Dangerfield said and swallowed hard.
“Now!” Basher screamed.
“Sir, yes sir!” Dangerfield replied, already heading for the door.
Basher turned to me and smiled, “Well, now that the introductions have formally been made, let me just say that I’m a big fan.”
He stood looking at me, enjoying himself, like someone will enjoy practicing a skill they know they’re good at. When he measured that he’d achieved his desired effect he continued.
“Well, not of you personally, but of fighters in general. Done a bit of boxing myself.”
“By the look of your nose you weren’t very good at it.”
He laughed then, a humorless laugh that almost masked his anger at the slight.
“Heavyweight champion five years running at Lejuene, although, not of course a professional like yourself,” he said with a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
“I heard Lejuene is where they send all the pussy marines,” I said.
Basher laughed his flat laugh again. “You’re a funny guy Chris,” he said, “I like you.”
He picked up a meat cleaver from a counter, ran his thumb along the blade, “Sharp,” he said.
From outside came the sound of machine gun fire. Basher ignored it.
“You want to know the best part of my job, Chris,” Basher said.
“The free clothes?”
This time Basher didn’t laugh.
“It’s getting results. Giving Uncle Sam good value for his dollar. You see Chris, I might not be much of a boxer, especially when compared to someone like yourself, but at what I do, at my specialty, I’m Ali and Foreman and Smokin’ Joe Frasier all rolled into one, you better believe it.”
He put down the cleaver and picked up what looked like a long-handled grapefruit spoon, slapped it against his palm three times.
”The man you were with, he have a name?”
“You know his name.”
“True, but tell me anyway, just so I know we’re on the same page.”
“He said his name’s Joe Thursday.”
Basher laughed, “Joe fucking Thursday,” he said, “that’s rich. And this Joe Thursday, he tell you what he does for a living?”
“He’s an actor,” I said.
“An actor,” he snorted. He didn’t tell you here’s a hired killer, wanted by every federal agency outside of Fish and Wildlife.”
“He didn’t see fit to share that with me, no.”
“Did he tell you that he’s in possession of valuable government assets? Assets that could help us resolve this current…crisis.”
“No.”
“Where were you headed?
“Headed?”
“Yeah, when my men found you, crawling around in the sewers, where were you headed?”
“To the park.”
Basher grunted, banged on his palm with the spoon again. Outside there was another burst of gunfire, closer this time, more intense. Basher nodded to one of the guards and the man jogged out, probably to check on the commotion.
“So you want me to believe, that a man wanted by every federal agency in the country is just going to trot into a military base and give himself up.”
“I’m not asking you to believe it, just telling you it’s true.”
Outside there was more gunfire, the sound of glass breaking and then someone shouting, “Get down! Get down!”, followed by a series of explosions.
“You like grapefruit, Chris?” Basher asked. When I didn’t answer, he said, “I do too, breakfast of fucking champions, right. Hell, I reckon I could clean out a grapefruit in ten seconds flat, using one of these things.”
He banged out a little staccato rhythm on his palm with the spoon. “So how long do you think it would take me to scoop out one of your eyes?”
There was another explosion from outside, this one big enough to rattle some plates from the shelves. They crashed to the floor just as Lieutenant Dangerfield burst into the room. He rushed over to Basher and whispered urgently in his ear. There was more gunfire from outside and someone was screaming.
“Get me a bird on the roof in five minutes,” Basher said to Dangerfield, “five minutes you hear. And lieutenant, I need you to hold this location, no matter what, you hear me, no matter what!
“Sir!” Dangerfield shouted and rushed from the room.
“Up!” Basher shouted at me, then to the guard “Soldier, I believe you’re needed outside.”
“Sir!”
The soldier headed for the exit and then started firing as the creatures poured into the kitchen.
“Move!” Basher said, as he unholstered his sidearm and started firing. He grabbed me by the chain of the handcuffs and pulled me towards the fire exit. We hit the stairs on the run and started upward, Basher in the lead dragging me along.
On the fourth floor we had to cross a foyer to reach the door leading out to the roof. After the sounds of the battle raging below it was deathly quiet up there, and dark, with the lights out.
We moved slowly, unsure of what might be out there. I could hear the whup-whup-whup sound of the helicopter landing on the roof. Then a ting as one of the lifts in the foyer slid open.
Basher was slightly in front of me, and the creature flew straight into him and bit him in the neck. He was knocked sideways and released his grip on me.
The zombie was at least Basher’s size and had him pinned down, its teeth shredding the air, inches from his nose. For a moment I was tempted to just make a run for it, but I couldn’t do it.
Instead, I kicked the creature in the ribs as hard as I could. He grunted and turned his attention towards me, giving Basher a shot. He fired into the thing’s brain, and it collapsed on the carpet.
Basher got awkwardly to his feet and put his hand to his neck. It came away sticky with blood. He said simply, “I been bit,” and then he emptied his magazine into the body of creature on the floor. He continued even when the gun stopped firing.
“Major!” I shouted, “We gotta go!”
“I been bit,” he said reloading his weapon. Then he placed the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
Behind me I heard another ‘ting’ as the next lift arrived. I wasn’t about to stick around to see what this one excreted. I ran for the door and pushed my way through. On the rooftop the helicopter hovered a few inches off the ground, its cargo door open. I dived in.
“Go!” I screamed.
One of the pilots looked back at me, “Where’s the major!” he shouted over the rotors.
“He’s dead!” I shouted back, “now let’s get the hell outa here!”
The pilots looked at each other and nodded. On the roof I could see the first of the things stumble through the door. As the chopper started to rise, one of them made a charge towards it. He dived for the landing skids missing by inches and tumbling into the darkness as we cleared the building and turned towards the park.
Chapter Six: Saturday In The Park
I woke to the sound of birds singing. I was in a soft bed with clean white linen. A white mosquito net was drawn around the bed allowing soft, warm sunlight to filter through.
For the first time since this thing started I felt at ease, like my mind didn’t have to deal with some immediate and deadly crisis. That illusion only lasted for a brief moment and then I realized that I was handcuffed to the bed and the events of the previous evening came tumbling back into my mind.
I remembered being interrogated in the hotel kitchen, the major, the helicopter ride, arriving at the base, questions, being stripped, examined, more questions, an injection to the neck, then blackness.
I yanked on the chain, heard it rattle against the bed frame, “Hey,” I shouted, “Hey, I need help
here!” It was then that I noticed the familiar shape of the man in the bed next to me.
“Joe?” I said. “Joe Thursday? That you?”
It was hard to make him out through the two mosquito nets that covered our respective beds, but I could have sworn it was Joe. If it was though, he remained both silent and immobile.
“Joe,” I hissed. “That you?”
“Keep it down, champ,” he mumbled. “You want to blow my cover?”
“Shit on a stick, Joe, it is you!” I said. “What the hell happened? How’d you get here? I though you were dead.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he slurred.
“Who did this to you? Basher?”
“Aptly named,” he said and tried to laugh setting off a coughing spasm. “Fuck, that hurts,” he said, after it stopped.
“Want me to call someone?”
“No, don’t do that, they’ll only pump me full of morphine and I need to talk to you.”
“It can wait, man. If you’re…”
“No it can’t wait,” he hissed, “this is important.” He tried to rise and that started him coughing again.
“Take it easy, big guy,” I said. “Don’t try to get up.”
He took in three slow, deep breaths and I almost thought he’d dozed off. Then he said. “I’m not going to make it, Chris.”
“Bullshit, all you need is to rest up, some recovery time…”
“Take it easy, Collins, I’m not about to keel over and die just yet. But they’re not going to let me walk on this one. I’ve seen this before, compadre.” The sound of his breathing came again, harsh and ragged.
After a while Joe spoke again, “Can I trust you, Chris?”
“You need to ask me that?”
“Guess not, just thought it would sound dramatic. Can’t help the actor in me.” He tried to laugh and started coughing instead.
Joe stopped to catch his breath before talking again. “There’s something I need to tell you Chris. Something someone needs to know. But understand that when I pass this information its like the passing of the flame. The people that want me gone are going to want you, and…“