Blood Soaked and Contagious

by James Crawford

  “You’ve got a dossier on the man?” Charlie looked a little surprised.

  “Oh yes. I have one on every single one of you and access to the files on your families as well. Are your mother’s pickles really made with cucumbers from Danielle Chalker’s garden, three houses over? It must have bothered you when her daughter, Missy, stole your boyfriend and was crowned Homecoming Queen three days after that.”

  Charlie turned white. Shawn didn’t hear it, or if he did, he was buried head first in the Humvee and didn’t show it.

  “Mister Buttons, I am fairly sure I dislike you.” Charlie’s tone of voice was surprisingly even, considering the ferocity in her eyes. “I just noticed something about you as well.”

  He looked up at her, cooler than Mrs. Chalker’s cucumbers, “And what would that be?”

  “Your nose has healed.” She was right.

  “So good of you to notice.” His voice was oily and expressionless, but the smug little smile told a more complete story.

  “We need to nail the convoy when they’ve got it complete,” Nate broke the tension by pulling us back to the original topic by the scruffs of our necks. If I had taken an anonymous poll, I think 100 percent of the respondents would have said the next thing that would be broken wouldn’t be the topic, but Buttons’ nose for a second time.

  “I agree. The railgun is not the best choice for this and is not in range again until tomorrow.” Buttons shifted his attention from Charlie to the laptop without even blinking. I cataloged it as another bit of odd behavior from an odd man. “We do have the laser weapon available, and we could target individual vehicles with excellent accuracy.”

  I brought up my encounter near the Methodist Church, which elicited a few groans of annoyance. Buttons made his fingers dance on the keyboard and made little thinking noises under his breath.

  “We could take that position in one shot from orbit at high power,” he announced. “That would give us several low power shots for the convoy. With any luck, destroying three or four vehicles would be a deterrent. I do not believe in luck.”

  Flower asked, “What sort of resistance is there at the church? Could a small team get in there, break it up, and get across the bridge on foot?”

  “I count forty combatants, six people who appear to be in a corral or a pen, and one Humvee-sized vehicle. Nothing appears in these shots that indicate any kind of heavy-weapon emplacements. There is a small heat signature in the bell tower and, in all likelihood, that’s a sniper.

  Flower smiled in a very disturbing fashion for a former man of the cloth. “Partners in arms, I think I have a reasonable plan. Anyone interested in hearing it?”

  There were universal nods and grunts of approval from the assembled lot of us. Flower stretched his arms, laced his fingers, and cracked his knuckles. “We are relying on one major environmental qualifier. We need to do this as a night raid.”

  “Step one, we take the church area as our staging area. Step two begins with Buttons and his fancy light show.” Matt continued explaining how we would wait until after nightfall to proceed beyond taking the church back. Buttons would use laser strikes to create confusion and vehicle damage in and around the convoy, and our team would then infiltrate the area during the post-laser freak out.

  “The vast majority of that plan is sound; however, there is something you need to consider. If we strike the convoy in position, that liberates a large number of personnel to defend the area.” Buttons pulled up a local map on the laptop screen, and we all craned around to see. “We need to allow the convoy to leave and disable or destroy it at least midway to their destination. That gives you a window of time to execute the rescue with fewer opponents and at least begin a return to our side before the convoy stragglers can return on foot.”

  If there had been a fly on the wall, watching us, it probably would have written a description much like this one. “Late afternoon, garage wall: gang of two-legged giant mammals making noise and nodding in unison like trained meerkats. Smaller mammal kneeling before a black box with bright colors. Perhaps this one is the Shaman and this is a religious ritual of some kind?”

  There was one potential issue: communication across the distances involved. If the built-in communications system that our happy critters gave us had a distinct range, we would need to rely on flaky cellular phone service or some kind of series of human relay stations between the team and home.

  Channing brought up the issue before I could, and Buttons suggested that he take a run to the edge of our neighborhood, which we generally felt was about nine blocks away. One of Nate’s chums headed out with him for extra security and they both promised to call in to test the range.

  While they were gone, we attempted to polish the plan and pick out a reasonable team to take back the church, and decide which of that larger team would continue on for the rescue and hopeful massive disruption of Hightower’s group. In the end, we decided to stick with the original team for the rescue: Flower, Charlie, Omura, Franklin, and myself. We added Ramos and Fitzgerald to the mix for the church and to hold that position until we returned.

  “Townhall, this is Ramos. Do you receive?” We all looked up at the same time, hearing his voice in our heads.

  “We read you, Chico,” Nate replied, “pull it in. We have matters to discuss.”

  “I hate it when you call me Chico. You know that, right?”

  “Yes. Your point would be what?”

  There might have been a whiff of vulgarity as Ramos closed the connection, but it was garbled. Nate stood there, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. It didn’t take long until he was back in deep consultation with Flower and Buttons over the satellite images of the church parking lot. Omura seemed to take it all in without comment.

  Never having been a formal soldier, some of the terms went right over my head, flapping into the afternoon on little olive drab wings. The gist of the church operation boiled down to three approaching from the houses directly to the nearest side of the parking lot and the other four flanking to the right around the near side of the main building.

  Fire Team Flash, the three-person unit, would be armed with one of the captured rocket-propelled grenade launchers. Fire Team Thunder would have two major tasks, the first being to remove the sniper from the bell tower. The second would be to lay down cover fire for Flash until they had destroyed the enemy vehicle and entered into hand-to-hand combat with the opposition.

  “Let me get this straight.” I wanted clarification. “Once the vehicle is done, it basically boils down to free-for-all murder?”

  “That is how it is done, dude.” Nate smiled and patted me on the head. “You guys are going into a situation where you’re outnumbered 6-to-1, or more. Once the sniper is down and their transportation is out of commission, just lay waste to the fuckers.” I got a second pat on the head and a cheerful, “Just don’t get killed. That goes for everyone.”

  Charlie spoke up with the sensitive, yet unasked, question. “What do we do about the people in the pen?”

  Buttons had a simple and forthright answer. “Euthanize them.” It wasn’t a pretty answer, but it was likely the correct one. I know Charlie did not like it one bit.

  No one had the nerve to look anyone in the face after those words dropped like lead bowling balls onto the concrete floor. I will admit to wishing it were different, but any infected individual would become Undead Take Out and would show up again in a matter of days as another opponent we’d have to deal with. At least we would be able to be as merciful as a single bullet to the brain will allow, followed by the messy necessity of cracking open their heads.

  I have never been sure that straight decapitation was the most merciful way to do things. There had been occasions in the past when the eyes would actually watch me for some seconds after the body and the head parted company. I watched them lose focus and fade, almost wetting myself every time, until I bashed the skulls open and knew it was over.

  Bullets, especially well-aimed ones, se
emed faster and surer than blades. Regardless, I wasn’t about to change my weapon of choice. It had served me far too well and was more an extension of me than any firearm I had ever used.

  Ramos and Channing returned and were swiftly briefed on the plans up to that moment, and Flower assigned us to our teams. Flash consisted of Omura, Franklin, and me. Thunder was made up of Charlie, Flower, Ramos, and Fitzgerald.

  “ Flower? What’s the rationale behind the team assignments? I’m curious,” and I was.

  “Simple. You and Omura are capable of impressive mayhem on your own. Franklin knows his way around projectile weapons.” He pointed at the members of Thunder one by one. “Charlie is a good shot and is impressive in close quarters. Ramos is a superb marksman. Fitzgerald is, from what Nate has said, an almost career point man. Yours truly? I’ll nail the sniper, back you up, and then squash the resistance.”

  I nodded. It made a lot of sense, for those reasons, and for the unspoken reason. Charlie is not on your team because you’d be too busy trying to protect her and would probably make a dangerous error, resulting in getting your head blown off. Frankly, I couldn’t argue with that either.

  “Buttons?”

  “Yes, Frank.”

  “Are the laser beams in the visible spectrum or are they on one side or the other?” I’d had a thought.

  “An excellent question. This particular satellite can be adjusted from visible to high UV. Why do you ask?”

  The idea was cruel but it might make it significantly easier for us to get back alive and in one piece. “If we can get the zombies to a window, or out in the street by picking off a target, would it be possible to blind the lot of them with a second shot?” I was disturbed at the look of satisfaction on Buttons’ face almost as much as my sudden turn towards practical maiming.

  “I think we could do that with very little trouble.” He described a plan to get their attention with three low-power shots into the crater pool, which would likely dazzle anyone nearby and attract the attention of anyone that was not actively watching. Then up to four shots near larger groups that would easily leave them blind, if not burned. “That would still allow for nearly thirty firings to disable or destroy the convoy. An excellent plan! You might even be able to enter through the lobby of the building instead of using the parking garage.”

  I felt ill.

  Flower picked up the ball from that point, describing how we would proceed into the area across the overpass and duck into the condominium development between the road and our target building. Depending on the resistance, we could decide on the fly whether to use the garage entrance or the front door. If we encountered any sentries that weren’t blind, we were to dispatch them while maintaining as much stealth as possible, i.e., no bullets.

  Fitzgerald would take point, Flower directly behind him, followed by me, Charlie, and then Omura bringing up the rear. Flower explained that their job was to get us into the building as safely as possible so Charlie and I could rescue Baj, and Omura could set several packages of explosives designed to bring the building down shortly after our egress. He also added that Charlie and I should feel at liberty to take out any targets of opportunity that appeared, provided that they did not compromise the rescue mission.

  “Frank, that means no heroics.” He gave me an incredibly stern look. “Charlotte, no heroics either. If Baj is compromised or somehow unable to come with you, end him as gently as possible. I would rather, and I think he would agree with me, he go by the hand of someone who cares rather than be crushed when the building goes down.”

  Charlie opened her mouth as though she wanted to argue but closed it without commenting on what the situation might require one of us to do. I didn’t like the idea either, but it made tactical sense, even if it didn’t satisfy our hearts or remaining morality. After all, I was going into that fight with the intent of killing my own brother. My father as well, if he presented himself as a target.

  At that point I had no moral high ground to stand on, much less an emotional reason to disagree with a reasonable plan. We didn’t need our hearts. We simply needed the will to do what we had to do in order to avoid being wiped out, and in this case, it looked like we needed to take it to them before they could bring it to us.

  For once in my life, I wanted to live. There were too many threads dangling from the helter-skelter quilt of my life for me to go to my grave quietly. Charlie. I won’t lie and say she hadn’t become a major motivator for me. I wanted to live long enough to be in love with her and whatever else might arise from that.

  There were also the nano-critters and what could be done with them and about them, and discovering if we’d ever be free of them. That led me right to Baj and then to Jayashri. After them, there was this big pile of people who had become my family of choice, and by extension, their kids. We all deserved to have whatever chance we could carve out for ourselves.

  Life often comes at the price of death, whether we like it or not. I had sympathy and pity for the people who had been victimized and brought back to life against their will, but they had made the choice to align themselves with a man and an ideology that stood in opposition to the freedom of every living human being. That could not be allowed to continue.

  “All right. It is 4:32 pm right now.” Flower’s voice sounded like lead blocks of imminent doom. “We need both Fire Teams here at 7 pm sharp. The operation will begin at 7:10. Between now and then, Shawn, you need to coordinate local defense issues and personnel with Nate. You need to be ready to rock when we leave. Fire Teams, weapons of choice, body armor, significant spare ammo. 7 pm, everybody. Go.”

  We went.

  Chapter 37

  I headed for the store, as one might expect. I still needed to get some of the crap off my skin and put on something that hadn’t been diced by an excited undead Sarge. I didn’t notice Charlie was behind me because I was too busy leafing though my mental catalog of weapons, updating it with the full-auto rifle hanging over my shoulder on a sling, and trying to decide what I needed and what I didn’t.

  Full-auto, check. Scythe, check. Desert Eagle or .45 cal? No. Go with matched 9mm pistols because we’re not hunting boar. Combat knife or katana? Compromise on an o-tanto, since it has the length and mobility likely to be necessary. The scythe can take the place of a katana for large-scale several-on-one melee encounters.

  Charlie was so close behind me, and I was so lost in my own skull, that I didn’t notice she came in the door behind me while it was swinging shut. She called my name and I jumped six inches straight up in surprise.

  “You didn’t hear me,” she asked, sounding surprised and amused.

  “No, I was lost in trying to decide what equipment I wanted to have for the rescue mission, and I was planning my wardrobe.”

  “Wardrobe?”

  “Absolutely.” I explained while we walked toward the back of the store. “I’m worried that all black is too somber. I was thinking that something in a smashing red-violet with fabulous drape, fishnets, and Fuck Me Boots would be just the thing for a chaotic evening on the town.” I vamped a bit on the Spa door for extra effect.

  She was caught somewhere between wanting to laugh and being immensely disturbed.

  “You are joking, right? I mean, if you’re into crossdressing, that’s okay. I’d just like to know that my clothes will always be mine.”

  “Charlotte Marie, are you telling me that you won’t share?” I can only imagine what it must have looked like, saying such a thing with batting eyelashes and enough dried stuff on me to leave me looking like the kabuki version of Mad Max.

  “I ... I... Oh dear.” She really looked like I was beginning to cause her some distress.

  “Charlie, really, I’m just playing. The tension is starting to get to me and I really want to get some of this stuff off me while we’ve got a little time. I feel like someone poured a bucket of blood on me and left me in the sun to dry.”

  “I’ll get you for that one of these days,” she visibly relaxed, �
��when you least expect it. As for the bucket of blood, that is about what you look like, so I understand. Can I hang out with you for a while?”

  “As if you have to ask! Spending time with you is probably the best thing in my life right now.”

  She laughed and held out her hands for my weapons so I could take off my shirt. I thanked her profusely, drew a bucket of cold water for myself, and grabbed the nearest dark-colored towel.

  “Don’t you want to warm that up before you... ” the sound of me splashing water across my face cut her off, but she rallied with,”... start cleaning yourself off like a crazy man?”

  I kept scrubbing and answered, “I thought that cold water would help clear my head a little, since I don’t have an ice-cold waterfall to meditate under.”

  “Can I ask you a silly question?”

  “Sure, Oh Specimen of Womanly Lusciousness!”

  “You’re not interested in Chunhua now that she’s not a prune, are you?”

  I froze like a rabbit caught in a flashlight beam. She didn’t think I wanted to indulge the Perky Passionate? Did she? Why?

  “Charlie. Charlotte... ”

  “Oh, Hell, you’re using my real name!” I could see her eyes getting moist, and that needed to stop.

  “Charlotte, I do not want to help Chunhua with her revived libido. Not. No. Never.” She looked like part of her brain didn’t want to believe what I was saying. “I don’t care if she’s giving me a lap dance, I will never be able to see her as anyone other than Grandmother Yan.” I cleaned more dried stuff off my arms while I thought about what to say next. “Don’t get me wrong, I love her to bits, and she’s a good friend, but that’s all.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, she’s way hot! Really! Those boobs? Wow!”