Jonathan sighed. "I know, dad."
Most of the apartment residents either stood outside or in the halls as they conversed in fear about the recent events. Michael tapped the haggard hippie on the shoulder—the neighbor who had spent years living in the loft across the hall. "Hey, I'm gonna be gone for a few days, can you check up on my son until his grandparents come over, I don't think it'll take long."
"You leaving your kid here when a fucking apoco---apocalypse is happenin'?"
"Never mind." Michael shook his head noting the slurred speech and headed down to the garage. He worried about leaving Jonathan home alone, even if it was for a short time, he couldn't stop the ominous ringing in the back of his head, but duty called.
The traffic was more terrible than usual but he made it to the military checkpoint at LAX. He showed his ID before entering. The building was almost empty. Anyone caught inside during the bombing were held for detention, given a background check and either allowed to go home or to the nearest hotel or held under further investigation dependant on their nationality.
Michael trekked through the somber airport until he saw Shane seated near the terminal, to his surprise several men and women sat nearby.
"Hey." Shane said looking up from his tablet.
"What's this?" Michael asked referring to the people he knew were not a part of their group. "I thought all flights but ours were cancelled."
"Diplomats. I think some conference is being held in Canada."
"I see." Michael sat down. "You okay?" Michael asked noticing the beads of sweat forming on his former lover's brow.
"I was there, when the bomb went off." Shane sighed nursing his stiff neck. "People were dying everywhere and I tried to help... I guess it took a lot out of me."
"Sir?" A young fresh-faced man of only nineteen approached, his glasses crooked on his face. He dumped the stuffed bag on the chair and held out his hand for Michael and Shane to shake, which they did.
"I don't recall...?" Michael replied unsure of who this man was, yet he seemed to know them.
"I'm sorry." The young man sat down. "I'm Tomas. I'm new to the team." he pulled out his ID to provide proof.
"Hello comrades." Ricki, a Latino man with dark wavy hair and strong handsome features dumped his suitcase on the floor nearby. He and Michael bumped fists as Shane disappears to the bathroom.
Shane splashes water on his face, the low throbbing of his head getting to him.
"Shane?" Ricki chuckled closing the door behind him. They were the only two inside, and that was just the way Ricki liked it.
"Don't want to talk to you." Shane turned off the water and grabbed a paper towel to wipe his face.
"Ignoring me won't change the past and I'm sure Michael will become suspicious if you keep leaving every room I enter."
"Michael already knows."
"What?!"
"He doesn't know it's you, but I told him what I did."
Ricki's brow raised, taken by surprise. "What did he say?"
"He's angry, for now."
"He left you." Rick stated matter of fact.
Shane turned away unable to stand seeing how assured he was of the outcome.
"Michael is my best friend, I love the guy, but he doesn't deserve you, he can be an asshole."
"Luc is his best friend, not you." Shane spat.
"You don't get to determine that." Ricki leaned in and that was Shane's cue to back away.
Shane felt a dry sting in the back of his throat, enough to trigger a coughing fit.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Shane said reaching for a fresh paper towel. "Smoke still in my lungs."
"Smoke?" Ricki asked confused until he realized. "You were there?"
"Yeah."
Shane recoiled when he felt the other's hand stroking his back.
"Shane?" Michael peeked inside causing Ricki to move away from Shane.
"Yeah." Shane called him in thankful for the interruption.
"I'll see what the rookie is up to." Ricki headed out the door.
"What were you two talking about?"
"Nothing." Shane shook his head.
"It's time to board."
"Thanks."
The two exit the bathroom and head toward the row of seats.
"Contact your parents?" Michael asked hoping they reached his apartment by now.
Shane forced himself to look at the other. "Not yet, but I'll do it now."
They boarded the near empty plane and sat in first class. The pilot made a small announcement before taking off. Shane watched Michael and Ricki conversing in the seats ahead of him and he nervously anticipated a fight. He hoped Ricki would keep his mouth shut.
Another coughed and wheezed across from him, a man dressed in a business suit. "Looks like I'm not the only one feeling like shit today." The man noticed Shane's pique appearance.
"Maybe something is going around?" Shane whispered.
"I don't know, but I gotta get to the toilet." He stood to head to the bathroom.
Shane sat back to relax until Michael stood to address their small group. "When we touch down in Detroit, we won't have time to settle in. We're heading straight to HQ to prepare to move out. I got word the military is setting up safety zones."
"Safety zones in Detroit?" Ricki laughed.
"All jokes aside, the city as the hardest hit so let's just do what we're going there to do and stay out of everybody's way." Michael sits near Shane. Shane resisted the urge to lean in close, making no assumptions about why Michael was talking to him. He knew he was about to separate his professional life from the personal. In other words, he knew Michael had to speak to him and remain cordial. "How long is that guy gonna be in the bathroom?" Shane chuckled. He was burning up and wanted to place a cold towel on his head.
Michael wanted to check his temperature but thought the better of it. He hated himself for still caring. he got up and headed to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Anyone inside?"
No answer. He knocked again before pressing his ear against the door.
Ricki sat down beside Shane. "You know, him treating you all nice like right now doesn't mean he always will."
"Shut the fuck up!" Shane whispered, his tone harsh.
Michael heard a small moaning coming from inside. 'Either this asshole got the runs, or he's jerking off.' he thought tapping the shoulder of a nearby attendant. "There's someone inside who isn't responsive."
The attendant tapped on the door but received no response. After a few minutes Michael help up his badge and demanded that they open the door. The attendant pulled him aside, concern etched on his face. "I heard on the news that all the folks who survived the explosions are getting sick and attacking people. I think we might be better off letting him stay inside."
"Attacking people?" Michael asked more rhetorical than literal he then focused on the male attendant. "Ask the pilot how long it will take to reach Detroit."
"Yes, sir." He said heading to the front.
Michael took the moment to address Shane, Ricki, and Tomas about the situation. he ordered them to prepare themselves for the possibility of dealing with a hostile situation. Michael drew his handgun and approached the door while Shane and Ricki post themselves on each side. Tomas escorted the diplomats and their families to second class.
"This is an outrage!" A rather large man shouted before Tomas closed the curtains.
The attendant remained in the space between the cockpit and first class. "We have an hour before landing."
"Good." Michael replied. "How do you unlock this door?"
The attendant gave a small demonstration then stepped aside. A small thump against the door cause the group to jump but Michael ripped the band aid and swung the door open. The foul stench hit them like a ton of bricks and the culprit sat slumped over on the toilet, his pants around his ankles. Before Michael reached out to touch him—
"Agh!" The man sputtered incoherent gibberish and lunged at Michael.
"Fuck!" T
he man wrestled with him until Shane grabbed him tossing him off.
"Help me!" The man screamed and flailed wildly.
Ricki crawled over the seats to get at him but the man lunged at Michael who kicked him back and Shane punched him hard knocking him onto the plush seats. The hit didn't faze him as he was up, latching onto Ricki's arm and biting down hard.
"Motherfucker!" Ricki screamed pulling out his gun and firing on him hitting the man in the shoulder.
"Don't kill him!" Michael yelled. He then used the butt of his gun and knocked him upside the head causing it to bounce back but not knock him out. "Shit!"
Shane grabbed the man and slammed him to the floor and placed his body weight on top. "Get the cuffs!"
"Right!" Ricki pulled out his set and he and Michael struggled to get his wrist locked in place.
They dragged him into the nearest seat careful not to step in the trail of piss and shit left smeared on the floor and seats he touched.
The man growled and muttered nonsense, a string of small words.
"Motherfucker speaking in tongues or something." Ricki laughed sitting in a clean seat.
The attendant entered, holding his nose, tasked with the unfortunate role of spraying and wiping down the area to the best of his ability. He paused once he noticed the inky black strings covering the man face like a web before Michael tossed his jacket over the passenger. He then took the phone from the attendant and smashed it on the floor. "Tell no one what you saw, understand?"
"Yeah." The attendant nodded.
Michael turned his focus on Shane and the others. "We're gonna need to call a transport to get this guy to HQ."
Chapter Six
Shane slipped on his brown cameo tactical vest away from the prying eyes of his unit, his movements were lethargic, he imagined himself falling into a deep pile of soft pillows and plush cotton sheets, but even if his imagination he couldn't rid himself of the chill he felt at his core. In his mind, he wrapped the thickest blanket around himself to no avail. He looked at himself in the mirror and what stared back at him was a near picture perfect soldier dressed in a greenish brown ensemble fit more for a desert plain then the city streets. Well, they were told to put on anything as long as they 'Had their asses back at HQ.' According to their Boss.
It's not like their uniforms bared any acknowledgment of their affiliation with the U. S government. No, they were 'off the grid' a squad that does things the government would disavow if it ever came to light. He splashed water on his face to wash the sweat away and he leaned against the sink calming his nerves, filling his lungs with stuffy air then letting it out slow and easy. He soon felt comfortable enough to enter the locker room.
The rowdy men laughed while hooking up their gear, the butt of their joke was the young ugly enough to be cute rookie Tomas who took it all in stride. Ricki slapped him on the back "Ready to get out there?"
"Yeah, but I mainly stay behind a desk." Tomas said, wishing he was behind one now.
"And I thought I'd be fuckin' Japanese bitches in Okinawa. I guess we all don't get what we want." Jesse, a stocky fellow with short dirty blond hair chuckled.
"Look alive fellas." Isaac, a muscular black male warned as he was the first to see Michael enter the room.
Shane felt discomfort in his lower stomach, his knees buckled and he clutched his chest. He turned, closed his eyes to steady himself. His lungs felt as though they would never get in enough air. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Silence, that was all he needed for now. To be away from the chattering men and collect his jumbled thoughts."Shane! We're moving out." Michael called to him, propping the door open for him.
"All right!" Shane answered before following him out.
The seven combat ready men entered the briefing room passing the hustle and bustle of personnel.
Michael stood at the head of the table before the large projection screen and waited for his team to assemble inside and close the door. The last to enter was Tomas, who rushed in spilling the files from his folder.
"I'm sorry, sir." Tomas said standing with a salute.
"At ease." Michael said getting used to the other's clumsiness. Now it was time to get down to business. "You know why you're here." He spoke with confidence, his masculine voice booming. "You're here because you are the best team in this organization and right now that's what I need. Yesterday, the city of Detroit along with Los Angeles were targets of a terror attack. Apparently, there have been several reports of people falling ill. The sick are identified by the growths of black fungus which appears inside and around the eyes causing a loss in vision and sharp jagged teeth. They’re extremely violent and cannot be reasoned with."
"What about infection transmission?" Isaac asked while looking around the room. "C'mon, we're all thinking it. This is a mother-fucking zombie outbreak or some shit."
The other nodded along.
"That hasn't been ruled out." Michael replied in agreement. "But, we can't operate on the basis of a movie. So far, the docs have cross contaminated subject Plane with some test mice and none of them have become infected. So, it's safe to assume that a scratch or contact with blood isn't enough to cause an infection. We won't have a full report until later and Dr. Williams has been ordered to contact me the moment she discovers anything new. But we can't wait until then to head out into the field."
"So, what the hell are we doing?" Klaus asked impatient and ready for action. "Government bull shit?"
"A private contractor hired us this time. Paid good and upfront." Michael clicked a picture of a blond-haired woman who appeared on the screen. "I don't have their name but I do have the name of our target, a search and rescue of Dr. Iona Stevens, acting director of the CDC. She's currently at Henry Ford investigating the infection. Her team lost contact with her. All we have is the final transmission time stamped over twelve hours ago." Michael tapped the screen of the iPad. The chaotic ruckus and gunshots fill the room.
"I've pinpointed the point of infection and its effects. These creatures are..." *Static* "... I know how..." *Static* "... I can...." *Static* "... Please help us!" The recording skipped. "I can't—Help us now! We need immediate extraction! They're--" she cried, the recording broke off in horrific screams and struggling.
"That's all we got. Haven't heard from her since. She's the only one who seems to have answers to his mess."
"With all due respect. It doesn't sound good. She may already be dead." Shane replied.
"We know it's a shot in the dark. If we can't extract her, then she may have some notes or something. Her living is not a priority."
The meeting adjourned and Michael pulled Shane aside.
"I'm fine." Shane said on the defense.
"I was going to ask if you've contacted your parents."
"Oh." Shane chuckled. "Yeah, I did. They're with Jonathan right now."
"Good." Michael looked at his former partner for a long moment, he loved the way his long eye lashes tangible into each other. "Speaking of that... of your flu. All of us are expected to report to medical before being deployed. Did you see anyone? Cause I didn't see you there."
Shane shuffled.
"Yeah, I saw him." Ricki approached giving Michael a reassuring pat to the back. "Everything is cool."
"See." Shane replied along.
"Okay, then let's move out." Michael headed out the door.
"You owe me." Ricki smirked.
"Why did you cover for me? I probably should get the exam, it's just that I caught a cold..."
"You heard the boss." He spoke the word boss with contempt. "They mutate, go blind, and look like shit. You most certainly don't look like shit." He closed the gap getting too close for Shane's comfort and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
"We should go." Shane moved away to join the crew.
The men sat on the helicopter with their weapons in hand and in full gear. Apprehension and excitement filled the air as much as the whirling winds.
"So, what do you think?" Issac asked, not a
t all sure about the whole thing. His mother always told him to follow his instincts and today, those instincts were telling him he would not make it. He's been through two tours and never felt what he did now, and he hated it and anticipated it at the same time.
"It looks bad down there." Michael replied. "On our way to the target AO we're cleaning up to make it easier for support teams to set up barricades in infected areas. The goal is to funnel the sick to the outskirts and control the more densely populated areas. We'll do this on our way to Ford where our target is located."
"HQ to Alpha Team. No change to your mission. Suppress bio terror outbreak and proceed to point Hanged Man." The small bust of static ceased.
"Roger that." Shane pressed the button on his radio to reply. "Preparing to drop on the Three of Clubs. We'll clean up and make our way to the Hanged Man."
A soldier on the roof waved the helicopter, guiding the vehicle to the checkpoint. The men slid down the lowered ropes. A Jewelry and Loans sign beckoned anyone with money troubles inside. The gravel crackled underfoot as Michael lead the well-trained soldiers toward a ramp which guided them to the ground.
Radio chatter: "Shadow to HQ! Hostiles at Stars Four. Engaging."
"HQ copy."
The well-trained men positioned themselves by the sides of the building of the dank, dark, and filthy alley near downtown and awaited their captain. Michael readied himself and gave the signal for them to push forward. The sea of flashing lights and microphones assaulted them, pushing at the men as they charge through. Several reporters pointed their microphones hoping to capture any inside news.
"It looks like the Military has arrived on the scene! Please give us a report on the situation." A reporter shouted over her competitors.
Michael stepped past, pushing the camera from his face.
"Excuse me!" The reporter shouted back offended.
"Sir, many people believe the military is responsible for these attacks, any word on this?" Another ambitious reporter shouted.
"Get the hell out of his face!" Shane fumed.
Michael signaled his men to run forward. Fire, chaos and looting ran the streets. The sirens of a forgotten police car echoed in the distance, soldiers ran through the flames and filth and debris, and a stream of flames ran to the gas tank and setting off an explosion of scrap metal sending the deadly pieces whizzing past.
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