by Tristan Vick
As the couple followed after their four legged companion, Longstaff paused and checked over his shoulder to see if any threats lingered in the distance. Satisfied that they were safe, he took one last drag on his cigarette and flicked it away. It spiraled through the air and then hit the ground. Cigarette ash scattered on the asphalt and quickly scattered and dissipated in a small gust of desert wind.
41
The Devil’s Secret
Mt. Gongen: Eastern Yokohama Region, Japan
Entering the building from a drainage access hatch after having snapped the neck of the unsuspecting guard and hiding the body, Kevin climbed up the main drain until he was directly under the floor of the inner chambers of the bathhouse. Putting his ear up to the grate that led into the men’s changing room so he could better make out the conversation taking place inside, he heard the woman with platinum blond hair.
“I won’t ask you again, Admiral. What are the access codes to the Gen IV facility?”
Glancing up through the grate, Kevin saw her standing in the center of the room. Coincidentally enough, he could see up her skirt; she wore elegant, black lace panties that complimented the army green of her outfit.
“Baka-da-ro!” she yelled, and slapped the Admiral across the face. It was a term he’d heard Saeko use a thousand times before whenever she wasn’t very pleased with him. It meant: you idiot.
Straining his ears, Kevin tried to make out the rest of her interrogation of the prisoner.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” the Admiral’s gruff voice answered. “The Gen IV facility was taken offline over a decade ago.”
“Not according to my intel. The facility, as I’m sure you well know, Admiral, has been active since before the outbreak of the Resurrection Virus.”
“Your source is wrong.”
Kevin reached into his satchel, the one which never left his side, and pulled out one of Saeko’s old make-up kit mirrors. If it was one of the few things of hers he hadn’t packed away. Things like mirrors were hard to come by these days, and he thought it might be worth something if he ever had to barter, now that money was worthless.
Careful not to arouse anyone’s suspicions, Kevin pushed the small mirror up through the floor grate to get a better look at what was going on.
Repositioning the mirror, he adjusted it to get a better look at the woman. Something about her captivated him, but he couldn’t quite articulate what it was. Apart from her blond hair and dark tan skin, she looked like every other Japanese woman he’d seen. Short, slender, great skin, and generally rather pretty, he thought.
The blond slipped off her jacket and tossed it onto the back of a nearby fold-out chair. She wasn’t wearing much underneath, merely some kind of glossy-looking, bright red leather bondage outfit. She looked the perfect mix between a superhero and a dominatrix. Her silvery hair fell across her shoulders and she turned with a sexy swivel of perfectly shaped, feminine hips.
A tattoo of a blue oriental dragon ran up her left arm. On her back was the tattoo of a woman being raped by a red Japanese demon. If she was leading the Black Dragons she was either extremely high up in the Yakuza or else she was royalty. The amount of ink she sported was atypical for anyone outside of the Syndicate, since most Japanese people avoided tattoos like a plague.
“You’re trying my patience, Admiral Sakaguchi. Ijin Gen has assured me personally that the information checks out. I wouldn’t have risked abducting you otherwise.”
“Ha!” the Admiral laughed, smugly. “The Yakuza crime lord’s son? He’s nothing but a wannabe punk. Why on earth would you work for someone as self-important as Ijin Gen? The same Ijin Gen that, as rumor has it, likes to ravish little zombie girls.”
The blonde raised her hand and with a vicious backhand she struck the Admiral across his jaw, drawing blood. “Never interrupt me when I’m speaking!”
Unexpectedly, she sat down on the Admiral’s lap and was slowly grinding her pelvis into him as if she was were giving him a free lap dance.
Kevin raised an eyebrow. Her methods were quite unorthodox. It was like he was watching one person do both parts of an entire good cop bad cop routine by themselves.
Running her fingers through his salt and pepper hair, she asked, “Do you know who I am, Admiral?”
“I’ve heard rumors about Ijin Gen’s retainers, the Nishimori sisters. The twins, Mia and Maya. And since I’ve also heard that Maya never leaves Gen’s side, you must be Mia.”
“In the flesh. Out of curiosity, Admiral. What kind of rumors have you heard?”
“Demented things, mostly.”
Mia laughed. “Do tell!”
“Things I don’t ever care to repeat.”
“Ha!” Mia laughed. “Then they must be true.”
“I heard that you two would do anything for the old man and you’d do anything for his son.”
“It’s true. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do,” Mia said twirling a strand of blond hair in between her fingers. With a hard thrust of her pelvis, she made sure she massaged the Admiral to full mast.
The Admiral merely stared at Mia with a look of contempt.
Suddenly, Mia tossed back her blonde hair, leaned forward, cupped her hands around the Admiral’s face, and kissed him firmly on the lips. After having had her fill, Mia got up and started to walk away when she stopped suddenly, spun around, and punched the Admiral with a vicious right hook.
“Woomph!” the Admiral grunted, his lip splitting open ever so slightly.
Mia laughed at the pain that shot up her arm and shook her hand. Then she balled up her fist tightly and hit him again, cracking open his nose. And then again, splitting his lip further open than it already was. This time his lip bled profusely, staining the front of his jacket.
Once again, Mia grabbed the Admiral around the face, and again her lips were pressed against his bloody mouth like a succubus. The Admiral could only grunt and moan in equal parts of displeasure and disgust.
Pulling away, Mia took her fingers and rubbed the smattering of the Admiral’s blood that was on her lips. She smeared it like lipstick, making her mouth glisten red.
The Admiral pulled his head away, turned, and spat on the floor in revulsion.
“If you know who I am, then you also know that I always get what I want. You’ll give me what I want, Admiral, or I’ll have a whole lot of fun ripping it out of you…piece by piece.”
The Admiral did not reply.
“So, let’s try this again,” she said, with a twisted grin plastered on her face. “What are the codes to the Gen 4 facility?”
Admiral Sakaguchi glared at the woman with the eyes of a well-disciplined soldier. “If you think you can break me then you’re more delusional than I thought.”
“Delusional?” Mia scoffed, licking her blood-glazed lips. “Nobody has ever called me delusional before. Psychotic, sure. A slut, most definitely. A murderous man-eating cunt, more than once. But delusional? I’m, how shall I put this? Somewhat disappointed.”
“Good,” the Admiral said with a sneer. “Get used to it.”
Matching his hardened gaze, Mia replied, “I’ll give you one last chance, Admiral. The codes. What are they?”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with here,” the Admiral said. “There’s a reason we shut down the Gen 4 facility. There’s a reason only the top security advisors know anything about the program. It was the devil’s workshop of all genetic research, a veritable Pandora’s Box, and now it is sealed up tighter than the gates of Hades. You’d have better luck sending me a post card from Hell, where you’ll be destined if you don’t drop this dangerous obsession with the Gen 4 program.”
“Is that so?”
“Believe me or not, I don’t care. But just so we’re clear, if Gen thinks he can intimidate me into spilling classified military secrets, he has another thing coming.”
“Maybe. I’ll relay your message to him.”
“Please, do. It’d save me the trouble,” the Admiral growl
ed. “Maybe you could give him another message from me, too.”
“What would that be exactly?” Mia asked with a smile.
“Tell Gen that I said he can take his overinflated ego and shove it right up his little pansy ass.”
There was an eerie silence that followed. Admiral Sakaguchi merely sat and waited for her reaction, although he wasn’t quite sure what that would be.
“I’m so happy we had this little chat,” Mia said, smiling at him disdainfully from behind her glossy red lips. With that she turned and quickly exited the room.
Once the voices in the hallway had faded to inaudible murmurs, Kevin push open the access grate and climbed up through the floor and into the room.
42
Death Valley
The California and Nevada Border, Off Highway 190
Looking out across the fading orange horizon, Gordon Longstaff took in a depth breath and admired the beauty of the last rays of sun. He adjusted his leather cowboy hat on his head, fitting it snugly, took a long drag on the cigarette which was slowly burning betwixt his fingers, then turned his attention back to the task at hand.
Throwing the last tire onto the heap of old tires he had built, he pulled out a tin full of lighter fluid and doused them. His cigarette pressed firmly between his sunbaked lips, Longstaff took a couple of quick drags, rapidly puffing out smoke between every drag to get the ember of his cigarette glowing orange hot, and then tossed it onto the mound of tires, setting them aflame.
Grabbing his Colt LE901, which was based on an A-R15 platform, off the hood of the car, he swung it over his shoulder and then shuffled down the side of the sandy embankment. Dodging a cactus patch as he went, he skidded the last few feet to the foot of the hill, his boot heels cutting lines in the dirt. Longstaff met up with Alyssa and Frank who were waiting for him at the bottom.
Frank looked up at him and let out an excited bark. Gordon Longstaff bent down and patted Frank on her head and then looked up at Alyssa and said, “That’ll draw em’ here like moths to a flame.”
Alyssa smiled back. She couldn’t help but love how his face creased into countless wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled at her; he wore his age well.
Gordon Longstaff had taught Alyssa many things about hunting and survival. He was a cowboy through and through. Originally from Great Falls, Montana, he was part of a long line of traditional cattle ranchers. But she preferred to affectionately call him her Cowboy. That’s what he was to her when she had met him three years ago, and the nickname just sort of stuck.
Of the things he’d taught her, one of the most useful was to always use the dark to their advantage. If there were Walkers anywhere within a five mile radius, once the sun settled into the cradle of the evening, the flicker and glow of this bonfire would draw them in from all around. This would make camping several miles downwind of the fire much safer than it would be to just set up camp near the blaze, or without a fire at all.
The desert was also good for using the rifle, since you could hit the Walkers, or Decrepits, as the Cowboy called them, square in the head with a three-aught-eight Winchester shot from a few hundred yards off. Even further if he was using the scope.
After walking several hours through the blistering desert, Alyssa picked out a patch of smooth sand and threw down her pack. “Let’s set up camp here.”
Stopping and scanning the horizon, Longstaff nodded in agreement. Here would be fine. No threats as far as the eye could see. If they got the tent up and threw the camo over it they’d have at least a solid couple hours, maybe even three or four, of decent sleep before something would inevitably startled Frank and woke them.
“Yup, I reckon here will do,” Longstaff said, and he slipped off his gear and began helping Alyssa set up camp.
As she began putting up the tent, Alyssa said, “In the morning we’ll hit the airport and find a plane. Something that will get us all the way to San Francisco. If everything works out, my contact will meet us by the bay where we’ll travel the rest of the way by boat to Hunter’s Point. That’s where the ship will be waiting.”
“And if things don’t work according to plan?” Longstaff asked, looking at Alyssa with a wry smile. He knew she had planned for every possible contingency. Heck, she’d spent the better part of two weeks working out the logistics of this plan.
“We improvise,” she said.
“Well, we’re getting mighty good at that,” laughed Gordon.
“That we are,” Alyssa said, getting the tent up. Walking a couple paces over, Alyssa picked up a rock and returned to the tent to pound in the stakes. As she pounded in the stakes, she looked over at Gordon and watched him fish out a can of Hormel’s chili from his bag, and open it. Using his buck knife divided half of it for them and half for Frank.
Eating the chili right off the blade of his knife, Gordon offered a bite to Alyssa. She merely narrowed her eyes and squinched up her nose at him, giving him her best sour face, and then turned toward the tent as if to say “No, thanks.” Chili wasn’t her thing.
“The last time I had that,” Alyssa said, “I made music the whole night long and most of the following day. I think I’ll pass on the magical beans and maybe have the can of tuna tonight instead.”
“Good thinking,” Gordon said, “Because with all that ‘music’ you were makin’, I honestly thought for a moment the Decrepits were gonna catch wind of us. If not that, then it would have only been a matter of time before they located us by following the din going on between your—”
“Oh, hush you!” Alyssa interrupted, not allowing him to finish that sentence. He winked at her and she smiled back. She liked that he had grown comfortable enough to tease her over the past few months. The first few months together they hardly had said a word to one another. Now they practically finished each other’s sentences.
Alyssa stood up and dusted off her hands, proud of her handiwork. She’d had put up the tent in record time. It may have even been a personal best. Satisfied, she crawled into the bright yellow tent and made herself comfortable. She started by kicking off her boots, then lay down on top of her sleeping bag and stared at her pack sitting in the corner, contemplating whether to open the can of tuna or save it for when she was absolutely starving.
Right this instant Alyssa wasn’t all that hungry. With everything that had happened to them, with everything they’d been through, they still had several miles to go before she could relax. She was still too preoccupied with everything she had to do – what she needed to do. Too much was riding on her, and she couldn’t fail. If she didn’t get the briefcase and its contents to Hawaii, there’d be hell to pay.
It wasn’t just the mission either. Her nerves were stretching thin enough as it was and running into those Earthlanders back in Vegas was a bad omen. People like that wouldn’t take the death of their own lightly; maybe leaving the blond alive wasn't their best move. They’d need to keep their guard up.
Outside the tent, Gordon put his fingers to his lips, whistled a short, shrill toot, and called out for Frank. Frank came lumbering up to the tent, stopped at Gordon’s feet, and looked up at her master.
“Well, what are yeh waitin’ for, Frank? Get in there.”
Frank wiggled her tale excitedly, turned in a tight circle, then hopped inside the tent.
Gordon Longstaff tipped his cowboy hat back on his head and scanned the horizon one more time, just to be on the safe side. Still no signs of trouble. No signs of anything. Not even a cricket chirping. It appeared safe enough, but there was something about the stillness that didn’t sit well with him. It reminded him too much of the calm before the storm.
43
Small World
Mt. Gongen: Eastern Yokohama Regions, Japan
“Who in the blazes are you?” Admiral Kazuma Sakaguchi demanded to know as he watched a strange young man dressed in black push aside the floor grate and climb out.
Kevin raised his finger to his lips and hushed the Admiral, pointing at the door to the hall and the
n back to his ears.
Lowering his voice, the Admiral continued, “You don’t look like Special Forces. Who are you? What outfit are you with?”
“I’m not with the military,” Kevin informed. He pulled his tactical knife out from under the back of his jacket then went over and cut the ropes that bound the Admiral’s hands and wrists.
“Thanks,” the Admiral said, rubbing his wrists where the rope had rubbed them raw.
“No problem,” Kevin replied.
Walking over to the access hatch, the Admiral looked down. “So this is the way out?”
“Yes,” Kevin replied. “But we’re not going that way.”
“What do you mean?” the Admiral asked, giving Kevin an inquisitive look.
“I hate to break it to you, Sir, but I’m not here for you. These mercenaries burned my people’s village to the ground, killed one of our children, and abducted two young girls. I’m here to get my people back and then I’m as good as gone. They will ever know what hit them.”
“I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with here, son.” The Admiral shot Kevin a strong look. “These people are the Black Dragons. These are not people you want to cross.”
Kevin thumbed over his shoulder. “Oh, you mean the broad? I wouldn’t worry. I can handle her type. My ex-girlfriend downright makes that woman look like a soft cuddly kitten by comparison.”
Finding that hard to believe, the Admiral raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t doubt your truthfulness, son. It’s just that I have a hard time picturing a nice young man like you with a woman like that.”
“You’d be surprised,” Kevin chuckled, giving the Admiral a slap on the shoulder. “Now are you going to help me or not?”
Just then the door burst open and two elite Black Dragon guards entered, quickly followed by Mia Nishimori.
“Stop them!” Mia ordered. As ordered, the two guards rushed both the Admiral and Kevin and apprehended them.