Valley of Death & Zombies

by William Bebb

  “Listen captain, I appreciate you gentlemen being here today. Honestly, I really do. However, we've done hundreds of raids like this before and I promise you we don't require your assistance down there. If you were to go in, just the sight of your police cruiser would have them running for the hills before we could even get out of the bus.” Agent Sazera said, with his hands on his hips.

  “We did a roundup just last Friday, and picked up over a hundred illegals without a shot fired or any police presence. It's just not usually needed, unless they have gang connections or serious criminal elements. Our intelligence report on this raid, says to expect fewer than sixty illegals down there and according to the files none of them have much of a criminal record.”

  Sazera consulted the paperwork on his clipboard and continued, “A few fights, a couple drunk and disorderlies. In short, there's nothing to justify your going down there with us. You know this is just a political roundup anyway all because some jerk lost his workers due to some kind of labor disagreement. These people down there are just trying to get by, they're not really even considered criminals in some parts of the country. When I worked out of the San Francisco office that fact was made very clear. They are just people, not some kind of monsters, and they will not be treated like dangerous rabid dogs. You and your deputy should stay up here on top of the valley and catch any they may try to escape the raid. That’s about the extent of our needing you here today.”

  Captain Wyatt had patiently listened, while leaning against the trunk of the cruiser, for the last several minutes. Deputy Holmes looked uncomfortable as he stood off a few feet and stared at Agent Sazera. He was a very big muscular man with a black mop of curly hair with dashes of gray in it. He was wearing a black uniform with knee pads, arm pads, and a bullet proof vest that covered both his chest and back with large white letters ICE prominently printed on both sides. The other members of the ICE unit had stayed on the bus. It was Holmes’ first assignment working with the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, and he had no idea what to make of Sazera's speech.

  Wyatt had nodded, and seemed to be receptive throughout the address, but he had actually only been waiting for Sazera to shut up. He'd heard a variation of this speech from other federal agents before and it never ceased to make him madder than a boiled cat. He always listened politely, before explaining how things worked when he was on the job.

  “Agent Sazera, it sounds like you've been giving that sermon for a long time. I understand you guys have your own way of doing things, and I respect that, but let me assure you my deputy and I are going down into the trailer park with your people this morning for three reasons.” Wyatt said, taking a step toward the much younger and physically intimidating agent. Although Sazera stood almost a foot taller than Captain Wyatt he backed up a step as he continued.

  “One, we've been ordered to go down there not to interfere, but to provide assistance if needed. I got my orders from the Sheriff personally. If you have a problem with those orders feel free to give him a call after we get done here today.

  Two, Communications have always been difficult in the valleys and canyons hereabouts. About an hour ago I tried calling Mrs. Phyllis Remlap, the owner of the park, from the station house and got a message saying the call could not be completed as dialed. It probably doesn't mean anything. However, I do not take unnecessary chances. If something was going on down there, while my deputy and I stayed up here picking our noses, and the shit hit the fan we'd be unemployed before nightfall. And I don't know if you've been keeping up with the job market lately, but it sucks hairy syphilitic donkey balls in my humble opinion.”

  Sazera tried to interrupt, and Wyatt held up his meaty right hand in a stop gesture while he walked forward another step. Now within kissing distance, and even though he was forced to look up at the much taller agent he shoved three fingers in front of Sazera's face.

  “And the third reason we are going down there is-” he paused and pushed the agent back a step with his other hand. Sazera caught his balance and stood uncertainly as Captain Wyatt continued. “Because, frankly, you pissed me off. I am a captain in this sheriff's department, damn it! I've busted my butt for nearly twenty years dealing with the scum of the earth. I've been shot at, more times than you can imagine, and managed to live to tell the tale, so don't you fucking dare to come down here and tell me to sit on the sideline. This is my home. I live and breathe the oath to protect and serve. Maybe, the cops in San Francisco are different. Maybe they don't mind cheering you on from the sidelines. Maybe you think your shit don't stink and the sun shines out of your ass, but I will not play by your rules. Whether you want us to stay up here, or not, does not matter in the slightest to me because we're heading down there this morning. Feel free to join us.”

  Thomas looked away grinning, as he heard Sazera start to speak but before he could start Wyatt turned and opened the squad car door and said “Come on Deputy, let’s get it done.”After climbing behind the wheel he started the engine and revved it.

  When Thomas got in he burst out laughing when he saw Wyatt smiling, from ear to ear, as he put the car in gear and pulled in front of the bus.

  “You should be a politician Wyatt. You have a great way of communicating with assholes.” Thomas said, chuckling, as he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his seat.

  “If that smart ass gorilla had taken a swing at me, back there, you would have backed me up, right? Damn bastard must be six and a half foot tall.” Wyatt said, wiping at his forehead with handkerchief. “For a second I thought I might have pushed him too far.” he said, smiling.

  “Fear not, I had my stun gun ready if he started to kick your ass. Would you mind if I write down those exact words you used? I live and breathe the oath to protect and serve.” Thomas asked, finishing off the last of his cold coffee.

  “You caught that huh? I know it sounded corny but I was on a roll. I couldn't help myself.” Wyatt said, blushing a little.

  “It's nothing to be embarrassed about. To be honest, I thought it was kind of inspiring. I was thinking about having it printed up on a shirt. Just wish I had a chance to zap that guy with my stun gun.”

  “Yes sir, Deputy Holmes you are my hero. If the rest of this morning is half as much fun as that, it's going to be a great day.”

  Sazera turned and walked back to the bus. The door squeaked opened, he climbed the steps and patted Lieutenant Shoemaker who was in the driver’s seat on the shoulder. He faced the six member squad and announced “I have chosen to allow the local police to assist us here today. Let's get the assignments out of the way. My squad will consist of Dudley,” he nodded at the youngest and newest member of the team.

  Dudley smiled and nodded back. He seemed to be looking at his commander, while in reality he was looking over Sazera's shoulder into the big mirror over the windshield. In the mirror he stared at Amy Crawford sitting on the other side of the bus. She was simply adorable and he couldn't stop staring at her fox like face. Possessing the cutest nose and prettiest smile, when she sometimes let it shine through, he could rarely spend an evening making love to his wife without fantasizing it was actually Crawford under him instead of his grumpy wife. The only problem was sometimes, while in bed with his wife, he had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting Amy's name. He smiled at her in the mirror hoping his wife never found out about his crush on her. Wives just never understand some things Dudley thought, as Sazera continued babbling.

  “Gilmer, you'll be on the lookout for anything hinky this morning.” Sazera said, nodding at the second oldest member of the squad.

  In his late fifties, yet still tougher than some of the younger squad members, he was a retired Army Ranger that had proven himself reliable on those rare occasions when someone decided to try shooting their way out of deportation. When things got boring he would sometimes share stories, usually quite long ones, about his days of jumping out of airplanes and dealing with everything from covert ops in South America to his early days serving in Vietnam.
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  Gilmer nodded back, when his name was called, but was busy thinking about his dog Barnie who had seemed a bit listless lately and decided he'd take him running this afternoon when the roundup was over.

  “Crawford you get to wear the helmet camera today.” Sazera said, and winked at her. She nodded back, watching Dudley from the corner of her eye. He looked like he was panting at her through the mirror. She sighed softly, and looked out the window, wondering how she had ended up out here in the middle of nowhere. Secretly, she was glad the police were coming along. Hardly able to sleep last night, she repressed a yawn as she tried not to remember the nightmares that had plagued her sleep.

  They were repetitive short dreams of her being chased by a gang of men. The worst part was how realistically vivid they were, almost like watching a movie. Waking up each time the dream ended, she found herself out of breath and unaccountably terrified until she managed to fall back asleep. Putting her hand on her pistol, strapped on her hip, she felt reassured as she ignored the leering stare Dudley was giving her in the mirror.

  Shoemaker looked, over his shoulder, and saw he got stuck with The Three Stooges again. Hadden was playing with his new fancy smart phone sending a text message to his wife, reminding her that the twins had an appointment at the pediatrician today at noon. Shoemaker had learned never to ask how his family was, after learning all about the fascinating world of twin kids and the differences in their poop based on what they had eaten the day before. If he wasn't blathering about his kid's bowel movements there was always the internet pod casts he loved to do for anyone stupid or bored enough to listen. Overall, he wasn't a bad agent but he was constantly rambling about his two little kids or the internet and frankly he was sick of it.

  Glancing at Puckett, he felt mildly ill. He had his finger deep in his left nostril, either scratching at his brain or digging for buried treasure. While not the stupidest bastard he'd ever worked with he had to be in the top three. Puckett had his earphones in and was bobbing his head to whatever crap he called music. Shoemaker had tried to explain to him, a few times, that popular music made him almost as queasy as hearing about Hadden's kids and yet inevitably the next day he'd be talking about some crappy new song he found on the internet again. His only redeeming characteristic was that he was generally in a pretty good mood.

  Looking at the last of his trio he just shook his head. Minarges was an idiot who always wanted to talk about his deep appreciation for role playing games he was involved with. Plus he had a weird habit of laughing, extremely loudly, if anyone ever said anything even slightly funny even if he was the one who said it. It was a tossup really who was more disappointing to have been stuck with him or Puckett, but ultimately he trusted the latter a lot more when things sometimes got dangerous.

  Matt Minarges even told him, just a few days ago, how he almost got arrested going to his apartment after work. There had been a police checkpoint at the entrance to his apartment complex, checking driver’s identification or something, and he said the dumbest thing Shoemaker had ever heard of. Looking up from his car he told the officer “You don't have to check my trunk. I don't have any drugs hidden in there.”

  Of course, they called for backup with a drug sniffing dog and spent two hours going over every square inch of his car. Even after he showed his federal credentials they kept checking because who would be dumb enough to say something like that, really?

  “Were going in clean as white sheets after the laundry kids, just sidearms, mace, clubs, and stun guns- leave the big guns in the storage locker. These people are going to be taken into custody with professionalism and courtesy. Make sure each of you has at least a dozen zip ties for handcuffing. Minarges you get to wear the other camera helmet today. Also, everyone keep an eye on those cops. I don't trust them. Later I'll be checking the footage, so no one do anything stupid out there this morning.” Sazera said, looking at Puckett who did not seem to have heard anything he had said, but was instead admiring something he had dug out of his nose.

  Sazera sat behind Shoemaker, his partner for the last five years, and patted him on the shoulder “Let’s get this party started.”

  The bus pulled in behind the captain's squad car and cruised past the partly fallen sign that read Albuquerque Springs Trailer Park.

  Josey and Mrs. Remlap were looking out the window when Colonel Lester stumbled into the living room and fell in his recliner. His hands were shaking rapidly as he gasped for air and coughed.

  “Billy gone.” he barely managed to say as he held a scrap of paper in one trembling hand and clutched his chest with the other. His face looked almost bleached white and his eyes were open wide in undeniable terror.

  “Colonel are you alright?” Josey asked, quickly limping to the old man’s side. “Where are your pills? Are they in your room?”

  Mrs. Remlap brought him a bottle of water, and held it up, so he could sip. The old man shook the paper at Josey, shoving it into his hand, ignoring the question and the offered water.

  “Got to go find him. He's outsid-” he mumbled then couldn't speak anymore as Mrs. Remlap made him drink some water.

  “I have nitroglycerin pills here.” she said slipping a bottle out of her colossal handbag, flipped out two little white pills and helped him take them.

  Josey shook his head as he quickly read the note.

  Deer Granpa,

  dont be mad. I went out to go use the phone to get help. I will be carful dont worry I have my BB rifle and will be back with help soon.

  xoxo billy bear

  “He's passed out, but I think he'll be okay.” Mrs. Remlap said, looking at Josey, while holding the colonel's hand in hers. “Where's Billy?” she asked, looking up.

  He looked out the window, then looked at his metal crowbar, then back out the window as the few snarling creatures in the front yard continued to wander aimlessly about. “He's either gotten to safety or-” His voice cracked, and he slammed his fist against the coffee table, unable to continue.

  Kids, Josey thought disgustedly. He looked out the back window and shook his head. Why are kids so damn stupid?, he wondered and limped over to check the front window. There were a few men fighting each other and screaming, but there was no sign of the boy. Part of him feared spotting Billy, because if he saw him the kid would probably be a short screaming homicidal monster. He shuddered, remembering his nightmare from yesterday when the little boy had become infected and attacked him- Billy's sharp little teeth, his missing arm, and guts spilling out of him. It had taken him almost half an hour to calm down after he woke up yesterday and today the kid had wandered out into a trailer park filled with monsters to make a phone call.

  Josey had made a lot of screw ups when he was a kid, yet none of them compared to going outside into a real life nightmare. He remembered once when he was about Billy's age, he tried to signal aliens and nearly burned down his parent’s house in the process. He smiled out the window as he recalled that night.

  His parents had gone out to the country club, for a New Years Eve party, and he had the house all to himself. He had just finished watching a movie about aliens that came to Earth and made friends with a young boy. In the movie, the aliens were nice and even took the boy for a ride in their spaceship. It was a bad movie filled with cheesy special effects, lame dialogue, and aliens that spoke with a Brooklyn accent, but he had loved every minute of it. The idea of hitching an intergalactic ride away from the trials and tribulations of fourth grade was nothing short of intoxicating- No more having to learn about the metric system, no more multiplication, no more long division, no more school at all! The more he thought about it the more he knew it would be perfect.

  Young Josey went outside, stared at the brilliant stars above, and tried to think of a way to signal some aliens. He knew they were out there- somewhere. Perhaps hovering nearby just waiting for some brave kid, like him, to give them a sign that he was ready for an opportunity to join them in the exploration of the universe. His parent’s yard, which he alwa
ys had to cut when the grass got too long, was certainly large enough to be a landing site for a spaceship. If only he could attract their attention somehow.

  After thinking for a long time he gave up. He felt depressed at not being able to think of a way to signal them. Walking back into the house, through the garage, he spotted the answer to his problem. Picking up the metal five gallon can of gasoline he carried it to the front yard. He took a pack of matches out of a kitchen drawer, and ran outside certain his plan would work.

  He poured a circle of gasoline around the front yard and set the can a few feet away. Not being the world's smartest kid, he struck a match and bent over to touch the flame to the gasoline. His eyebrows that were singed off eventually grew back. He didn't even feel where they'd been burned off, at the time, as the flames raced around the giant circle in his parent’s yard. As the circle of fire caused the neighbor's dogs to howl, he jumped up and down and waved his arms up at the sky hoping an alien would spot him. He had been so excited by the prospect of never having to do homework again, that he never seriously considered the possibility of less benevolent aliens being interested in him as a tasty preteen snack.

  The flames shot up into the dark sky as he danced around waving his arms hoping they'd hurry up and arrive. He wondered if the aliens would come down in a ship or if they would use something like a transporter from Star Trek to bring him aboard. It didn't really matter which as long as they hurried up, he was getting tired of jumping and waving his arms over his head.