Agent Mauser’s face darkened at his reference to the other agents.
“I guess not,” Joseph mumbled to himself, searching for words that would excuse him from the uncomfortable conversation.
“Yeah, they didn’t make it,” Agent Mauser said, pointing a finger at him. “No thanks to you and your black-suited cronies who left us out there to die.” Joseph felt a pang of guilt in his gut.
“You know if I’d had a choice I would have taken you with me,” he said. “I would have taken all the survivors. I was as much a hostage as anything else.”
Mauser spit at his feet and stalked off.
Agent Thorfinson seemed a little more sympathetic, a thin smile pushing up through his bushy blond beard. “We’re working on the camp’s security detail. They needed people with law enforcement experience, so they asked us to head up a team that keeps order among the civilians. It’s not bad. I’d rather be out fighting.”
The doctor nodded, happy that both men didn’t despise him. “Well, I’m glad you and Agent Mauser are safe. Sorry to hear about the loss of your teammates. They seemed like good men.”
Agent Thorfinson’s stony face reclaimed its normal hardened look. “Death comes for us all. Some sooner than others. It’s how you embrace his final hug that defines you,” he trailed off, thinking about his friends. “I’d better get back to rounds with Mauser.”
“Yes, of course. Be careful,” Joseph replied.
A gunshot rang out from one of the towers, reminding him of the desperate nature of their situation. Rat-a-tat-tat, a machine gun rippled. It was getting worse. The last time he had been on the Topside he had heard only one gunshot in his short foray. Now they went off every few minutes. And it would get worse every day.
He made his way back to the secure underground facility. He immediately walked back to the medical research lab and began his next test. Time was a luxury he couldn’t afford to waste in this battle.
STEELE
Fairfax, VA
Steele rose before dawn. He already had the reconnaissance mission to the Jeep planned out in his mind. He rolled out of bed, threw on his tactical pants and ritually checked his gear.
Gwen stirred as he draped his tactical vest over his thick shoulders, a bit leaner than normal. “Why so early?” she asked.
“We have to use the light to our advantage,” he said. He knew she didn’t really expect a response. She was just slowing him down because she didn’t want him to go.
Stepping softly, he went into the next room and gave Ahmed a slight kick with his boot. “Get up, it’s time to check the Jeep.”
Ahmed’s eyes opened a crack, dark orbs peering forth.
Steele gave him another slightly harder tap with his foot. “Get up. We have to go while it’s still dark.”
“I’ll be down in a minute,” Ahmed said, yawning.
Steele tiptoed down the stairs and waited. He checked his magazines and slapped a mag on the palm of his hand to ensure that the rounds were seated properly. Ten minutes passed and no Ahmed. Then, another five. The sun breached the horizon, spilling light across the chaos of Northern Virginia.
“Ahmed, we have to do this now,” Steele called up the stairs in a hushed tone.
A minute later Ahmed, Gwen and Lindsay came down the steps. Jesus, Ahmed.
“Ahmed, it’s supposed to be you and me,” Steele said, looking at the two women, who were dressed for war. He didn’t trust Ahmed as far as he could throw him, but it was better than bringing Gwen into certain danger, or Lindsay for that matter. If he brought Lindsay, he would probably end up having to carry her the entire time. Steele wasn’t ready to risk getting everyone out of the relative safety of the house only to find out that the Jeep was gone or disabled or surrounded by a horde of infected. Ahmed could show him where the Jeep had been abandoned, and that way he wouldn’t have to take Gwen.
Gwen crossed her arms in obvious distaste at the idea of not being included in the expedition outside the house. Defiance settled across her features. “I’m going.”
Ahmed casually held his bat across his shoulder blades as he stood with his sable eyes fixed on Steele, a smirk settling on his face. Steele could practically read his thoughts. Can’t even keep your woman under control.
“I’m going if she’s going,” Lindsay said, arms folded across her chest in imitation of Gwen, her ponytail bobbing up and down. Holy shit, these people.
“No. Only Ahmed and I,” Steele said. He wasn’t going to budge on this. He had lost Gwen once, and he wasn’t about to risk losing her again. She would just have to deal with it. Besides, he wanted to see Ahmed in action.
Ahmed had made it this far, so he had to be willing to fight, but Steele had yet to see firsthand exactly what he had to offer. Perhaps we may be better off without him? Steele deeply desired the foray outside to be low-key. They already risked a lot by potentially compromising their hiding place. Brief flashes of infected pushing through the barricaded door, and rushing up the steps as he frantically shot into their faces crossed his mind. We can’t afford it.
“We want to go with you guys. We don’t want to be left alone,” Gwen argued, the most front and center of his problems.
“Do you think I want to go out there alone? Do you think I want to leave you?” he said a little too loud. She shook her head, no, taken aback.
“Of course not. But it’s easier to sneak with two people as opposed to four, and I need you two to get packs and food ready in case we have to leave in a hurry. Just help me, please. Don’t second-guess it. Just help.”
Gwen punched through him with her green eyes, pulling her arm free. She could tell that he wasn’t testing her womanhood.
“I’m not testing your will to fight. I just need you to stay safe. If I spend the whole time worrying about you, I am ten times more likely to get killed myself.” She started to say something and then stopped, lips tight.
Steele took a deep breath. He didn’t want to lose it on them, but the stress drove down on him from every angle.
“Lindsay and I will stay, but I swear to God, Mark, if you’re not back in twenty minutes, I’ll come looking for you. Don’t think for a second I won’t,” she said.
Steele sighed in relief. “Okay. We’ll be back soon. Promise,” he said, eyes kissing her. “Come on Ahmed, let’s go. We’re already behind schedule.” Ahmed raised his eyebrows and followed him.
Steele and Ahmed moved into the basement, the women following them down the creaky steps. They went over the plan one last time. It was nice and simple: find the Jeep or, if there was no Jeep, find another vehicle to drive. We have to do this. Not having an exit strategy is a death sentence. At the least, they needed to acquire a vehicle outside of the wreckage that blocked the cul-du-sac. Otherwise we will be hoofing it. More like running it.
“Remember the plan,” Steele said, eying everyone. Steele press-checked his SIG Sauer P226 and slid it back into his cross draw vest holster. It would remain holstered unless he got into a real tight spot.
Ahmed hefted his baseball bat, giving it a few trial swings, as if he were getting ready to take a turn in the batter’s box. Better be good with that thing, Steele thought, pushing all distractions from his mind. He pushed out Gwen, Lindsay, and Ahmed, allowing him to bring his mind into focus. It was a focus technique he always did before entering a known hostile region.
He calmed his heartbeat with controlled tactical breathing. He breathed in for four, held it in for four and breathed out for four. I am ready. His mind was level. His mind was sharp. His mind was the tip of his spear. I will be quick and I will be deadly.
Steele challenged Ahmed with his ocean blue eyes. “Let me know if you can’t keep up,” he said, hazing his companion.
Ahmed’s dark gaze never left Steele’s. Instead, he gave the agent a wry smile and a wink. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
Steele gave Gwen a nod. I'll be back one way or another. He quietly stepped out of the basement door into the small fence-e
nclosed backyard. Despite his breathing technique his heart jumped a bit in his chest. Faint moaning drifted through the air. The infected roamed nearby, but not close.
Steele cracked the gate a little so he could see better. The hinges squeaked loudly, causing butterflies to rise in his stomach. Nothing. He pulled the door open with more force, checking his corners. Nothing lurked to the left and nothing creeped to the right.
He gave Ahmed a quick backward glance and moved on the double to the tree line that ran along the back of the townhouses. He could hear Ahmed’s footsteps softly striding behind him. For the most part, he seemed relatively adept at moving with stealth. Pretty good for a guy with no training. I wonder how far I would have made it without any combat training? Best not to consider that scenario.
Focus. Don’t look. See. Steele slowed to a halt as they neared the edge of the tree line. He crouched down, making himself a smaller target. This was an instinctive action for those in the tactical world, but he didn’t know how useful it would be against these relentless enemies, who followed none of the rules he followed.
A large space separated the blocks of townhouses, and two of the infected milled near the corner of the townhouse. In the other direction, a larger gathering of the shambling infected roamed the cul-de-sac. It was as though they knew that somewhere in the neighborhood victims awaited their sentencing.
Steele would have preferred to use hand signals with Ahmed, but settled for whispering instead. “There are two over there at our two o’clock, and it looks like there’s a small pack in the street at our nine o’clock. Let’s take the two out. Then we’ll work our way back around to the street. From there on out, it’s your lead.”
Ahmed gripped the handle of his bat tightly. “You lead the way, hero,” he sniped at Steele.
Steele snorted at that. “Just don’t get yourself killed,” he said, loosening his tactical tomahawk hanging from his belt.
He emerged from the tree line, crouching at a trot, his tomahawk in the low ready striking position. He covered the distance at a run, but something gave him away as he ran. My footsteps? Shit. The infected turned around awkwardly when Steele closed within five yards, a dirty ugly man missing part of his jaw. The unwarranted announcement of his arrival forced him to speed up.
The tomahawk whistled as he swung a wide, arcing strike with the cleaving end. Whatever life inhabited its body, disappeared from its milky white eyes, as the hawk sunk deep into the brain cavity.
The second infected, a jogger wearing her expensive running shoes, short shorts and ragged marathon T-shirt, spun around, reaching for Steele. He shoved her backward to give himself space to pull his hawk free. She toppled into the side of the house and fell onto the grass, giving him valuable extra seconds.
He kicked his foot into the man’s chest to gain leverage. The man’s skull reluctantly relinquished his hawk with a spray of brain fluid.
The infected woman pulled herself upright, shoulder sagging downward, blood oozing from the corners of her mouth like she had eaten a handful of berries. Her unkept brown hair stuck out every which way. She growled while lunging for him, and unable to load his swing he used a backhanded strike with the spike end of the tomahawk. The hawk bored deep into her temple with a sickening smack and he sent the former jogger to her maker, or wherever it was they went the second time.
Steele heaved on the hawk with all his might. Stuck in deep, her head twisted at a funny angle, but it wouldn’t budge free. Her vertebrae ground together as he pulled with all his might. Damn thing. I am going to rip her head off if I continue on like this.
“Ooooow,” reverberated in his eardrum. Danger close. Tucking in his chin, he looked over his shoulder to see a heavy blur bearing down on him. All he could do was turn into it as he braced for impact. The force of the impact took him in reverse and a morbidly obese woman with pieces of skin hanging from her face like drapes drove him into the wall of a townhouse. Her flowered muumuu tangled with his harness as she latched onto him, bringing him in close for a wicked wide-mouthed bite.
Steele reeled rearward. The veins in her face were black and varicose and her neck swollen beyond recognition. The stench of her breath caused him to stumble, and he tripped over the jogger’s body.
Her bloated body came crashing down on top of him, forcing the air from his chest. “Jesus Christ, you weigh a…ton,” he grunted, avoiding her snapping teeth. Everything happened so fast. I must get my hands free. Shifting his head side to side to avoid her bite.
Steele did what came naturally as most people do in a fight. He threw his arms up into her body like an offensive lineman. His hands were met with soft, squishy flesh that enveloped them. He was strong, but the woman was huge and he could only push her so far as she struggled against him. Her head craned, drawing closer and closer to his. Black spittle oozed out of her mouth, the flesh hanging from her face overlaying onto his like a dead fish. She clawed at him as she scrambled to reach him.
“Fuck. Ahmed. Help,” he called out, half-yelling, half-whispering as he struggled to keep the distance between himself and the obese infected. Attracting her allies, was a certain death sentence. He threw his hand back, grasping for his tomahawk. If he didn’t change his position fast, he would be on the losing end of this exchange.
He threw his knees up between her body and his to create space. She wrapped fat, stubby fingers around his leg and bit down on his knee. He never felt it. Throwing her weight to the side, he rolled his body on top. Grabbing her throat, he barely kept her head controlled.
She snarled, going berserk in his grasp, Steele struggled to stay balanced on top of her disgusting rodeo. With his free hand he ripped his dagger from its tactical harness and slammed it up through the soft under part of her jaw into her brain. The one-time competitive eater finally lay still.
Steele bounded up, putting his back against the townhouse as he scanned for more threats. His chest heaved. Adrenaline coursed through his veins; he was in fight mode. No army of infected marched down on him. He relaxed a centimeter, the void filling with anger.
God damn it, Ahmed. A little help would have been nice. He exhaled, beginning to temper his breathing. He snatched his tomahawk off the ground as Ahmed made his way over to him. Steele shot ice daggers with his eyes as he scrutinized Ahmed.
“We’ll have words when this is over. Take me to the car,” Steele said, resisting the temptation to cut him down with the hawk.
I could kill him now and the other two would be none the wiser. No, that isn’t right. There is too much at stake. I will deal with this asshole later. Pain shot up his leg. What’s wrong with my leg?
Ahmed gaped at Steele. “Did you get bit?”
Bit? Of course not. “Fuck you, man,” Steele said. He didn’t think he had been bitten. He started patting himself down. Arms, good. Chest and neck, good.
“No, your leg,” Ahmed pointed down at his tactical pants bat wavering.
Steele tilted his head down. A black, bloody hole through his pant leg met him. It must have happened when he created space. Gingerly he felt through the torn fabric. He pulled his hand away, as if stung, his heartbeat going a mile a minute. Blackish bloody wetness covered his fingers.
Slowly, he looked up at Ahmed. Ahmed stared back, hesitantly taking a step away from him. They both knew what a bite meant. Certain death. “You’ve been bit, haven’t you?” he said, brandishing his baseball bat behind his back.
“No, I haven’t,” Steele said a little unconvincingly. I couldn’t have been bitten. Not like this. His throbbing knee pounded otherwise.
“Stay back you fucker,” Steele said, eying Ahmed. There is no way I am going to let this asshole put me down like a wounded animal and then let him go back and get the girl.
Ahmed held his bat ready, dark eyes waiting for an opportunity. Steele drew his SIG Sauer in a quarter-second maneuver keeping it close to his chest. “I don’t give a shit. I’ll take you with me. Stay away from me while I figure this out.”
H
is eyes never left Ahmed, and he felt the skin of his leg through his pants. It burned like hell. She really did bite me, didn’t she?
The muscles in Ahmed's shoulders and arms tensed as if he were about to strike first. Steele continued to examine his skin with his hand while keeping an eye and his gun trained on Ahmed. I wonder how fast he can swing that thing? No way he can hit me before I get a round off, but if he swings first, I have to react to his movement putting me on the losing end of that exchange. If I can get my arm up in time, maybe he would only daze me and break my arm.
His hand combed the skin of his leg. Wetness, sticky slobber, and skin. Intact skin.
“I’m good, man. She just tore my pants. And thanks for the help asshole,” Steele said, standing up and holstering his dagger and handgun. Ahmed held his bat between them still unsure of Steele. “I see the road over there. It’s your turn to lead.”
Ahmed gave him a cautious nod.
“Don’t think this is over,” Steele said behind him.
That was a little too close. This guy is going to get me killed out here. He wondered if that was what Ahmed had planned all along. Wouldn’t it be convenient if I was bitten and Ahmed had to take care of me while they were away from Gwen. Ahmed hadn’t even lifted a finger while that crazed bitch almost mauled me to death.
Steele stalked behind him. Keeping his head scanning as close to 360 degrees as possible. When they rounded the other side of the townhouses, they saw the compacted remains of several automobiles that had tried to escape the area. Infected bodies bumbled around them.
“I don’t see it,” Steele said.
Ahmed waved him forward. They used a large tree as a barrier to shield themselves from the infected near the wreckage. Steele kept checking his six o’clock, making sure no one snuck up on them.
“There,” Ahmed said, pointing. The dark green Jeep sat intact.
“Good. Let’s get back,” Steele said.
They quietly retraced their steps to the townhouse. Steele’s knee crackled where the lady had bitten him, or tried to. He hobbled into the house after Ahmed, ensuring that the fence was secure, only to be confronted by the unhappy faces of Gwen and Lindsay. The expressions of the two women said they had been gone too long.
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