Fallout

by Derek Shupert

  Tony digs into his pack, rummaging through its contents. A noise catches my attention off to the left. I grab my gun and bring it to bear, trying to find the cause through the dying of the light.

  “I think what you need is a good night sleep,” Tony suggests with his back turned to me.

  After a few seconds of skimming the dense foliage, I lower the rifle. “I haven’t been able to really sleep sound since all this crap started. I’m tired, but my mind won’t slow up.”

  “Here, maybe this will help you relax.” Tony tosses me a silver container and nods. “That should do it.”

  “What’s inside?” I unscrew the cap, and take a whiff. The pungent odor is stout and sharp, biting at my nose. “Man, that smells like death.”

  “It’s something that will help calm your nerves. After a few sips, you’ll get past the smell and taste.” Tony shifts his weight to get comfortable.

  I slowly bring the silver flask to my lips. The potent aroma invades my nostrils, causing me to cough. I tilt the container slightly, allowing Tony’s concoction to stream into my mouth.

  It tastes as bad as it smells. My face cringes with disgust. I look over at Tony who’s just sitting there watching me and puffing on his last little bit of tobacco.

  All right, come on, James. Don’t be a girl. Just take another swig and get it over with.

  I bring it back to my lips and down another small mouthful. I feel as though I’m going to gag. I cough and place my hand over my mouth as I gulp it down. It burns, scorching the inside of my throat. My stomach rumbles as the liquid invades it.

  I hand the flask back to Tony who holds up his hand and stops me.

  “Get one more.”

  Really? One more? I’m not even sure if Tony has tasted this crap before. Not sure any human should consume something as vile as this. But being the impressionable teen that I am, I go against my better judgment, and take another swig.

  The second is not as bad as the first, but it still tastes horrible. I hold it in better this time, coughing some as I gulp it down. I hand the flask back to Tony and shake my head.

  “Smooth,” I say in a disgusted tone. My eyes water and the after taste is just as bad as the liquor itself.

  Tony takes a big gulp and doesn’t flinch. I imagine he’s gotten used to the strong bite of the drink.

  After a while of sitting there, and sharing a few more drinks with Tony, I start to feel a bit more relaxed. I’m still thinking about Mom and Cindy, and what happened to my dad, but it’s not as crushing as it was before.

  “Feeling better now?” Tony pokes at the fire, moving around some of the wood to keep the flames going strong. Duke groans and fidgets on the ground. He passed out next to Dawson who’s still sleeping sound.

  “Yep. Feeling pretty damn good,” I respond with a slight slur. “So, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Tony cuts his eyes over to me.

  I cross my legs and fold my arms over my chest. My head tilts to the side as I dive into the matter. “So, what’s the deal?”

  “Deal?” Tony retorts.

  “Yeah, deal,” I respond again.

  “Not sure what you’re getting at.” Tony stares at me with a befuddled expression as he continues to probe and poke at the wood.

  “Since we came across those cars and the bridge, you’ve been acting different. I can’t quite pinpoint it, but it just seems as though you know more about this than you’re letting on. I mean, you’re in the military and all, and I would assume that they are involved in this in some sort of way. Just seems like something they’d have their hands in.”

  Tony sits there, speechless, and stares at me with a stern look. I can’t tell if he’s pissed, surprised that I’m busting his chops, or what. After a few moments of the awkward silence, Tony grabs his gun and removes it from its holster.

  My eyes go wide and I gulp.

  Tony looks at me with a blank stare as he sits the gun down on his gear and adjusts his body. He flicks the now extinguished bud into the fire as the chirping sounds of the birds and insects cease.

  The wind nips at my exposed flesh, becoming colder. I shiver, and pull my arms tighter over me. Saying that there’s tension now around our little campsite would be an understatement.

  “Did your dad ever tell you what it was like to take another person’s life?” Tony stares at me with a vacant look, his once inviting demeanor more rigid now.

  I gulp. “He told me some stories of what he went through while overseas. Nothing about killing or anything like that, though. I know he did whether he said it or not.”

  “Well, killing a person, regardless if they’re a scumbag terrorist hell-bent on blowing up a school or driving a car full of explosives into a convoy carrying food and medicine, is still something that you never get used to. That shit stays with you for the rest of your life,” Tony flatly says.

  I nod in agreement. The people I have killed, regardless if they weren’t in their right mind or not, were still people. It’s definitely something that I’m trying to cope with.

  “How many people have you killed?” I probe further. Considering the current state of things, I imagine I’ll be doing it a lot more since the infected seem to be sprouting up everywhere.

  Tony pauses for a brief moment, his gaze sliding up to the sky as he downs another swig. He hands me the flask, which I refuse with a simple gesture.

  Tony shrugs. He sucks down the remainder, appearing to savor the last little drop of the God-awful liquid as he licks his lips. “Let’s just say, James, that I’ve killed more people than I would’ve liked to. Most deserved it, but some just got caught in the cross fire. They call that collateral damage.”

  Perhaps it’s the alcohol swinging through my system, and making me so brazen, but I press further. “Did you have anything to do with those people being killed at the bridge?”

  “No, I did not,” Tony replies with a solemn tone. The light from the fire brings to life his glassy gaze. Tears fill his eyes to the point of rushing down his cheeks.

  “So, why the sad response to my question, then?” I stare at him in my intoxicated stupor, waiting for him to confess more of what is eating away at his conscience.

  “I was part of a top-secret platoon deployed onto U.S. soil to help contain and control the biohazard. By any means necessary.” Tony brushes the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away the guilt and remorse. He clears his throat.

  “The mission was straightforward. Contain any infected areas and control the population. If containment was not possible, then extreme measures were to be exercised.”

  “As in blowing up bridges and shooting innocent people?” I say.

  Tony just nods.

  “That’s crazy. I can’t believe the government would do something like that,” I protest. “How are they able to cover that up without people finding out?”

  “Believe it, kid. The government can be extremely persuasive when they want to be. The media is in their back pockets. They’re perfectly at peace with bending the truth and giving the public a bogus story. Anyone goes astray and decides to grow a conscience, they get dealt with. After about our third deployment, that’s when I had enough of the sludge and decided to split,” Tony said.

  “So, they just let you leave like that?” I inquire.

  “Not exactly. The military never lets one of its own just walk away, especially when something like this is going down. It’s called being AWOL. Plus, they really don’t want the deep, dark, nitty gritty stuff we were ordered to do getting out. They’ll be coming for me soon enough.”

  Tony stokes the fire a little more. He shuffles around the wood and adds some more tinder to the base. The warmth from the flames is comforting, and makes me that much drowsier.

  “You need to get some rest. We’re going to have an early start tomorrow morning.” Tony gets to his feet.

  “Yeah, ok,” I reply through a yawn. I lean to the left and rest my spinning head against my pack. I briefly hear Tony
rummaging about as his footsteps trail off into the brush behind me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  James get up. GET UP NOW!

  “Dad!” I call out.

  Startled from the intense sensation that he’s so close, I sit up, looking franticly around for him. My breathing is labored. My heart pounds so hard that it almost hurts. He’s here, I know he is.

  After a few moments of searching for him, I finally realize it was nothing more than a tormenting dream. Deflated, I lay back down.

  My head feels like it weighs a ton. It hurts to almost process a single thought. My body feels much the same from sleeping on this rough ground.

  “Duke!” I call out. The night has surrendered to the strident sun rising. I squint, then close my eyes. It makes my head hurt even more. “Duke?”

  Where is he? He’s always near me in the morning, regardless if we’re out camping or in the house.

  “Dawson, have you seen-”

  I look over at Dawson’s pack and he’s gone. Tony’s vanished as well. The fire we had going has been smothered, but looks like it happened recently. I can feel a small bit of heat still emitting from the charred wood, a thin line of smoke trailing up into the air.

  Snap!

  I sit up, trying to find the source of the disturbance. It could be an animal moving through or something else. I wouldn’t put it past Dawson to try and freak me out, though. We’ve always tried to one up each other.

  My head throbs so hard that I close my eyes and place my hands on my temples. I squeeze to relieve the pressure, hoping that the lightheadedness will wane. The next time I’m offered a drink, I think I’ll pass.

  Snap! Snap!

  “All right guys, this isn’t funny anymore. Stop messing around and get out here!” I hiss.

  Feeling less than ok, I sluggishly grab the Remington and take the safety off. When I find those two, I’m gonna kick their asses for sure if I don’t shoot them first.

  I move toward the bushes and trees. My pace is slow and sluggish. I hold my right hand in the air to block the sun from hitting my face. The rustling suddenly stops. I pause only for a moment before moving around to the back of the thicket.

  “Gotcha!” I yell, but there’s no one there. I guess it was an animal scurrying off. Where are they?

  Anxious, I quickly back up, and scramble to grab my gear. The barrel of a gun presses against my temple.

  “Don’t move, boy,” a gruff voice demands.

  The Remington is ripped free from my hands. A creepy cackle plays behind me. I look around for Tony, Dawson, and Duke, but don’t see any of them.

  “He looks scared, Roy.” A man chuckles off to my right.

  “Yeah, boss. I wonder if he’s going to piss his pants,” another voice chimes in to my left.

  “Will you two idiots shut up?” Keeping the gun mere inches from my head, the man steps right in front of me with the gun now dead center at my skull. “You must be James.”

  I say nothing. The fear of having a gun pointed at my head steals my response. I stare at the burly bearded man. He’s big, not muscular, but more fat and plump. His face is covered in dirt, and the foul stench of not bathing coming from his body is overwhelming. He smiles, revealing his yellow-stained teeth through his crusty and cracked lips.

  “I think this is the kid, boss. Looks just the way his friend said he would,” the man to my right says as he points at me.

  Excited, I ask, “You’ve got my friends?”

  “We sure do. Picked them off a while ago down by the stream,” the man to my left snickers.

  “Aw, he can speak. And here I was thinking he was a mute or something,” Roy says with a smile. “Now, James, you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

  “No, sir,” I remark while keeping still.

  “Sir? Wow boys, did you hear that?” Roy glances to his left, then his right at the other two as he chuckles.

  “He’s just sucking up ’cause you got that canon pointed at his face,” Benny says.

  “Regardless, perhaps you two could learn a lesson here from our friend, James.” Roy lowers his gun. He holsters the weapon while keeping his eyes locked on me. He digs into his pocket and removes a half-smoked cigar. He runs it underneath his hairy nostrils and inhales. He exhales deeply through his mouth as he slips it between his lips. He ignites the charred end and stares at me. “Benny, tie him up,” he orders with a wave of his hand.

  Benny comes toward me with a thick piece of rope. He grabs my arms tightly, smiling the entire time with a goofy grin. He’s randomly missing a few teeth. His lip is busted, and he has a black eye to round out his unsavory facial features.

  He smells just as dreadful as Roy. His clothing is torn and ripped, and it looks as though it hasn’t been washed in ages. He stares at me while bounding my hands together. A vacant gaze lingers within his eyes. I can’t tell if he’s all there or not.

  “Pete, go check their campsite. See if there’s anything useful we can take with us,” Roy demands.

  “Sure thing, Roy,” Pete replies. He glances at me briefly with a big smile as he heads over to our campsite.

  Benny finishes binding my hands together and gives the end of the rope to Roy. On the inside, being at the mercy of these seemingly backwoods hillbillies has me scared to death, but I try to keep my fear in check. I’m doing a lousy job from the way Roy keeps looking at me and smiling.

  “Go help Pete and make it fast,” Roy says.

  Benny leaves to go help Pete, leaving us alone.

  Roy removes the cigar that he’s been gnawing on and discards it. “So, I asked your friend Dawson where you boys are heading. He said no place in particular.”

  I’m hesitant at first to say anything, afraid that he might see through any false story that I may tell him. But my silence might say more than my words.

  “It’s true. We had to leave our homes in a hurry because of the chasers. Not sure where we’re going. Any place that isn’t overrun with them,” I respond.

  “Where are your parents at, boy?” Roy inquires as he tugs on the rope some.

  “They’re dead,” I reply quickly, my eyes becoming glassy.

  “Dead, huh. How did they die?” Roy asks in such a way that it seems overly creepy, almost like he wants to hear the details or something.

  “They got infected. I had to do what I needed to do,” I answer in a weak voice.

  Roy places two of his fingers against my forehead and says, “Did you shoot ’em in the head like this? You know that’s the only way to kill those sons of bitches.”

  “I did,” I reply softly, not giving this sick, inbred piece of crap the satisfaction of hearing any more of the painful details.

  “I had to release my old lady. We got overrun, and she got bit on her arm. It hurt me to no end, but I had to put her down before she became all feral,” Roy says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “Was it hard to do? Shooting your wife like that?” I ask.

  “Once she got infected, she was no longer my wife. So, no, it wasn’t.”

  To Roy it appeared to be matter of fact, showing little to no remorse or sadness from his loss. He acted as though it was his duty, and that he did her a favor. Perhaps he did the same as me with dad. I guess you could say it’s the human thing to do. Still, doesn’t make it any easier. At least, not for me anyway.

  “Are you boys done yet?” Roy squawks.

  Pete and Benny rush back over with armloads of our supplies. It’s pretty much everything we have, nothing left to show that we were even here.

  “They got anything good?” he demands.

  “Some clothing, food, and a little bit of ammo,” Pete replies as he displays the arms full of our gear to him.

  Roy grunts as he thumbs through our belongings. “I was hoping for more, but it’ll do. Let’s get moving.”

  “Where are you taking me? Where are my friends?” I protest.

  “Don’t worry, James, you’ll see them soon,” Roy replies, tugging
at the rope. “Keep an eye out, Pete. I don’t want any of those chaser things sneaking up on us.”

  Pete gives the goods he’s carrying to Benny and gets to the back. Roy takes point with Benny behind me as we get on the move. He tugs the rope, pulling me along at his whim.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  We’ve been walking through the woods for a while. I’m tired. My head has finally stopped hurting, but I’m thirsty and getting hungry. I’ve kept quiet, keeping to myself and trying not to interact with the crude men.

  “How you doing back there, James?” Roy calls out.

  “I’m thirsty. You got any water?” I reply.

  “There’s a stream up ahead. You can get a drink there,” Roy answers.

  I notice a canteen hanging from Roy’s side, bouncing off his hip every time he takes a step. There’s probably no water inside, just booze. I smelt the stale liquor emitting from him the moment we met.

  “You know that friend of yours, Tony, is not as good of a guy as you think,” Roy says. “He’s not this boy scout that he claims to be.”

  “He never said he was a boy scout,” I correct.

  “So, you know the things he’s done? Innocent people he has killed?”

  “Yes. He told me last night about what he was ordered to do.”

  Roy holds us up and points to the left at a stream. “Go get a drink, boy.” He keeps a hold on the rope, giving me just enough slack to get to the edge of the stream. I dip my dingy hands into the chilly water. I first splash some on my face, followed by a handful straight to my mouth.

  I take a few more drinks, savoring the cool and refreshing water as Roy chuckles behind me. Pete and Benny kneel beside me, dipping their canteens into the stream.

  “Following orders, huh? So, he told you about what he and those other military boys were doing to us Americans?” Roy follows up. “All in the name of protecting us.”

  “He didn’t give any specifics, but he clearly conveyed what they were ordered to do if things turned bad.” I run my cool hands through my hair and to the back of my neck.