Blood Soaked and Invaded - 02

by James Crawford

  He’d be able to retire in Bali by the time he got me back together.

  Lucky fucker.

  “Ah, well! Look at you lad,” some one said from off to my right, “can’t stay out of trouble. Can yeh?”

  I turned slowly, because it sounded familiar, if muffled. The tall, black-suited and blood damp soldier to my left had his hands on his hips and appeared to be studying me from behind the face shield and goggles. I have to say in retrospect, the accessories did a fantastic job of making him look more like a faceless robot goon than a human being. Without x-ray vision, or clobbering him to the ground and tearing the stuff off his head, there’s no way I could… then again, I could have simply asked him to take it off, rather than resort to violence to solve the problem.

  Scary how easy violence becomes when you’re hard to kill.

  Before I could adjust and say something, he started taking off the lower part of the mask. That’s when I saw it. It was a huge, salt and pepper colored, handlebar mustache. I’d only ever seen such a mammoth Lip Wombat once before.

  “Jeff?” It couldn’t be. My eyes were bugging out of the sockets.

  “You’re a sight! Is it tha’ hard to believe?” The rest of the headgear came off, and I was staring at my old friend Jeffry Andrews, the cop I knew back in Edinburgh.

  My jaw would have hit the ground if it weren’t attached so completely to my face. He looked at me and enjoyed a huge belly laugh as he walked over and clapped me vigorously on both shoulders.

  “Duh,” I said.

  “No, really,” he said.

  “Nurt?” I asked, stunned into gibberish mode.

  “I signed up about a year ago. Looks like you and yours are the lab experiments that they’ve been whispering about at HQ. Over all, I’d say it suits you.”

  “Shiiiit,” I said.

  “I’ll say this, though, you’re less eloquent when you’re surprised, lad.”

  Omura shouted over from across the road where he was standing with the Sharmas, “Jeff, you mean to tell me you know this loser?”

  “Aye! Don’ yeh remember me tellin’ you about that lad what knifed the lesbian zombie back home?”

  “Yeah, of course I remember that!”

  Jeff pointed a gloved finger at my nose. “This is the youngster in question!”

  Shoei shook his head, laughing quietly to himself, or so it appeared from where I was standing. “That explains a lot. It really does.”

  I couldn’t tell if I was being maligned or lampooned, so I didn’t bother to sort it all out. Jeff barked orders at our reinforcements, took me by the elbow and walked me back to my people. Jayashri had climbed down from Baj’s shoulders sometime during the latest fray, and had taken up a position several feet away from the body on the ground. It didn’t even look like Omura had moved a single step.

  The body of Sumira, I am happy to report, had not moved at all.

  “So,” Jeff said, “what’s all this then?”

  I put my hand on his shoulder and pointed to the body on the ground in front of Bajali’s feet. He sucked air between his teeth, turned around, ordered his people to form a secure perimeter and then turned back to us.

  “Francis, God as my witness, I think that shit follows you around like the family dog.”

  “Don’t even get me started.” I said it and meant it. “How about you guys help us load up this crap so we can get out of here before more icky things happen?”

  “Hmm. Makes a bit of sense.”

  With the help of six of Jeff’s people, we got the wreckage and samples sorted and loaded in to the big rig in just under five hours. The four of us that started this lunacy together were hungry, tired and completely worn out. I was amazed that Baj and Jaya were managing to keep their emotional shit together for such an extended period of time, because I remembered how difficult it was to adjust to cannibalistic behavior. It was no comfort to know that the “donor” was already dead, or that the resources were being used to keep you alive.

  It was a horrible experience however you looked at it. I don’t know what it says about me that I’d begun to adjust. Then again, I don’t know what it says about me that I was harboring a metric ton of resentment about being turned into a science project with shady moral leanings. Enough anger lurked in the basement level of my psyche that I caught stray thoughts like, “Well, now you get to know what it’s like to be me. Hope you enjoy being a cannibalistic, transhuman, post-apocalyptic warrior! Cheers, babe!”

  As I mentioned, we got the loading and transportation issues sorted out, and we sorted life out so that we could head back to our little Maximum Security suburban homestead. Omura, Jeff, a selection of his nameless commandos and I would be in the first chopper. Based on my impressive eavesdropping skills, we would make it back first, and the two other helicopters would escort the truck back.

  Jayashri and Bajali had cloistered themselves in the cab of the truck and were being very, very quiet. Jeff tasked one of his “lads” to drive the truck and not interact with the Sharmas unless they initiated it.

  “Appears to me that they need a wee bit of quiet time,” is what he told the driver, who gave him a crisp nod and salute. “Come to think of it, Riley, take the headgear off. It might make it easier on them if yeh had a human face instead of all the rubbish.”

  Riley complied, and the order made instant sense to me. Underneath the intimidating gear was a red-haired lass with smoky green eyes and an unbelievably sensual lower lip. I don’t know if I would have found her presence comforting in my time of existential angst, but I can certainly say that she could have distracted me for a little while.

  My crotch mariachi ripped out the first notes of “La Cucaracha.”

  Shut up, you evil little shits!

  I watched her climb into the cab of the truck, silently wishing she were dressed in a little black dress instead of body armor and tactical mufti. My musings didn’t last very long, because the invisible Moth Man of Guilt began to gnaw on the backs of my eyeballs. I had enough to worry about, so I packed away my Riley fantasies and the munching in my head stopped.

  Charlie was carrying my baby.

  Charlie was carrying our baby. Loin fruit!

  Mutant children were piloting flying saucers with Death Ray as standard equipment.

  Gah!

  Jeff gave me a blank look when I turned back to him, but I did see that one eyebrow was raised in a mute query. He’d seen my emotion-fired tactical facial expressions before, you see. I shook my head at him, not wanting to approach that issue with anyone other than the people that I knew, for sure, were aware of things.

  “Did your Mum ever tell you that your face might freeze that way?”

  “She suggested it on a number of occasions,” I replied.

  “Hasn’t happened yet then, eh?”

  “No. It snaps back wash after wash.”

  “Probably better for the rest of us, I suppose.” Jeff smiled and all I could see was his lower lip appearing out from under the brushy curtain of doom that lived under his nose. “Let’s get you chaps the fuck home.” I didn’t complain, and he loaded me into the Blackhawk.

  I actually fell asleep on the brief flight back to our little city-state in Arlington. I suppose that it made sense, having enjoyed a more active afternoon than I would have chosen otherwise. Unsurprisingly, I dreamed.

  Charlie was in labor, in some kind of Safety Orange plastic sling, dangling over all our heads. Jayashri stood underneath her with a set of salad tongs that were the size of garden shovels.

  “Push! You have to push! Otherwise your baby will just stay in there until he goes to high school! Push!” Jaya was trying her best to get Charlie to cooperate, but all she got in response was a bizarre sing-song of, “Fuck that! Fuck that! Fuck that! Om mani padme amidala fuck that. Fuck that!”

  Chunhua was lounging on the grass, sipping tea with Shawn. For some reason, Chunhua was dressed in a really sexy lizard costume, if such a thing could be described as “sexy” in the fi
rst place. For personal preference, I think I would have preferred to see her in something more traditionally Chinese, rather than a rubber suit off the back lot at Toho Films.

  Shawn was beside her, also sipping tea, but he had a Buddha-like quality about him, and appeared to be sitting, Indian style, on Bajali’s ass. Baj was upside down with his head in the dirt, like people always imagine ostriches stuffing their heads in the sand. I could hear him murmuring things to himself about the technological singularity, karma, and how it is all the same as falafel sandwiches.

  The whole community was there, and it looked like most of them were having a cook-out. It looked like fun, and I was really happy to see everyone having a good time together. Then Charlie screamed, destroying the happy scene.

  Our son had arrived, rappelling to the ground on his own umbilical cord. He looked like a person-shaped assemblage of computer hardware, Lego, and firearms. With a single sweep of his eyes, he assessed everyone, ignored them all, except for me. Jaya attempted to take his temperature, but he patted her on the head and tossed her over his shoulder.

  A quick twist detached his umbilical cord, and he walked across the grass, held out his arms to me and said, “Hi Pops. Resistance is futile.”

  The bump of landing brought me back to the real world and I was incredibly grateful for the rude awakening. My subconscious is an interesting place at the best of times, to say nothing of how creepy it is when I’m riled up. The whole day had been a roller coaster ride of freak out after freak out, and I hadn’t had dinner... I was not about to count brains as dinner.

  The only meal that is supposed to come on two legs is a bird of some kind... I’d stretch that as far as kangaroo, but certainly no further.

  Charlie interrupted my semantic swashbuckling with a poke between my ears. “Where the Hell have y’all been? WTF? WTFBBQ? All that!”

  “Hey. Sorry I didn’t try to get in touch. Life got a little interesting at the crash site.” I filled her in quickly as I disembarked the Blackhawk with Jeffry Andrews in tow. “Baj and Jaya are coming back with the wreckage and remains. I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

  Jeff gave me a “lead on” gesture, so I guided him down the useful set of stairs I’d ignored earlier that day. His charges followed along behind us as we tromped down into the garage section of Building Two. Omura took up the rear.

  I was unsurprised to find Major Kenney and half a dozen of his cadre waiting for us.

  “Report, Mr. Stewart.”

  “What? No cake or cream puffs for the returning heroes?” I was hungry. That is my excuse for not being able to rein in my snide reply.

  “Major Kenney, I presume.” Jeff pushed ahead of me, stopped dead and threw a salute at the Major. Leave it to the Suave Laird of the Edinburgh PD to stop a social nightmare in its tracks.

  “Yes. You are?”

  “Jeffry Andrews, Commander, Assault Support Group Bravo Euro.”

  “Well.” Kenney actually returned the salute. “Good to meet you Commander. I don’t suppose you and your people are part of the first wave of upgrade volunteers, are you?”

  “Good call, Major. We are. Pleasure to be here.”

  “What? Huh?” I put my hand on Jeff’s shoulder and spun him around. “Upgrade volunteers?”

  “Aye, Frank. Me and mine have come to catch your bug.”

  Chapter 18

  Wasting no time, I spun around to find Omura. If anyone would know something about this brand new horseshit, it would be him. He was nowhere in sight. When I pulled up the map in my head, his little icon was already on the other side of the building, moving toward his house.

  Later. I will ask my questions later.

  I found myself looking at a bunch of strangers instead, and I didn’t know what to do about them. Jeff tapped me on the shoulder. If he hadn’t done that, I might have continued to stare at the new crazy people who’d apparently decided to volunteer to do the humanity strip tease.

  “I take it this means that no one told you about this part of the plans?” He asked me, looking a little concerned, when I turned around to face him.

  “No, Jeff. Not a word.”

  “Ah.” He gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I promise to give you the rundown as I know it, after I interface with the good Major. Why don’t you clean up, and I’ll track you down in about, oh, twenty minutes?”

  “Fair enough.” I’ll hoist Omura by his petard later. “If you go out the main entrance to this building, there’s a hardware store across the street. I’ll be in there somewhere.”

  “I always knew you had more than your share of nuts.” He grinned beneath the enormous mustache.

  “Screw you, Jeff.”

  “Pardon me for interrupting your social time,” Major Kenney interjected. “I’ll need to debrief Mr. Stewart as well, so don’t get too settled.” He pointed at me. “I know how to find you when I want you, so go chill the fuck out until I come for you.”

  “Sir.” It seemed like a reasonable thing to say at the time.

  “That’s it, son. Remember that, and we’ll get along just fine.” The armor-wearing schmuck actually grinned at me.

  I wished him a nasty venereal disease and gingivitis before making my way to the double door on the other side of the vast garage. Juvenile? Yes. Give me a break. I’d had an awful day that lasted into the night and a need for food that wasn’t raw.

  “Charlie,” I said, giving her a mental tap on the shoulder. “Would you meet me in the cafeteria? I need food, and I’ve only got twenty minutes or so before I get to be debriefed.”

  “Sure. See you there in a minute or two.”

  It took me a few minutes to get out of the maze that was Building One. If I’d been thinking, I would have gone out the garage doors and only had a block to walk in order to get to the place of sustenance. Instead, I ended up out front, staring across at my hardware store. What else could I do but shake my head at myself and start jogging.

  My favorite southern woman was leaning against the wall beside the doors to Building Two, partially lit by the light above the entrance. I called out to her, and trotted up, expecting a hug.

  “Frank, do me a favor in the future. If you’re going to be late, find some way to tell me about it.” She glared at me a little with her arms crossed over her chest. “I spent most of the day wondering if you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  I had to shift modes on the fly, because it was not the time for a joke or a flip answer.

  “I’m sorry. I will pay more attention to it next time and make sure we have some kind of communications equipment available.”

  “Thank you!” I got my hug then.

  A short while later I raided the walk-in refrigerator and shared some of the day’s events with her.

  I don’t know who told the Quartermaster that I have a strange fondness for rice pudding, but I made a mental note to thank that person at my earliest convenience. Sweet custard with chewy bits makes me feel better, even in the face of mutant children, flying saucers, and freaky new kinds of zombies. But I don’t think the pudding had the same effect on Charlie’s mood.

  “It was a little alien kid?”

  “That’s what we think, yes.”

  “They’re bringing all that crap back here?” She emphasized the location by stabbing the table with her index finger.

  “Yes. All the wreckage, fluid samples, the corpse, and samples of both kinds of zombie.”

  “Oh my God.” I think she actually looked a little pale. “And you said we’ve got recruits, too?”

  “Uh-huh. Jeffry Andrews, the police inspector I met in Scotland years ago, and half a dozen of his people. One of them is driving the truck with Baj and Jayashri.” I hesitated to spill the rest, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “Her name is Riley, and she’s a redhead.”

  A chill settled around my ankles, and I knew I was on thin ice again.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Jeff ordered her to take off her helmet and facemask before g
etting in the truck to drive them back. He thought it would ease their minds if the driver had a face to relate to.”

  “That was nice of him,” she said, not quite so frostily. “When do I get to meet this man from your past? Does he have a sexy Scottish accent?”

  I sensed a certain something in her questions. Perhaps a return jab for inferring the existence of an attractive redhead?

  “He said he’d find me when he was done with the debriefing. That reminds me, I need to pick Omura’s brains about our community additions.”

  “Nice change of topic.”

  “Thanks. I made it myself.” I winked at her, and she winked back. I decided to assume we’d reached parity. “It really pissed you off, not knowing where I was or what I was doing. Didn’t it?”

  “You have no idea.” She smirked, but it oozed bitterness. Her face froze for a moment and she turned around to face the door. “Somebody.”

  Jeff and Omura came through into the dining area, looking exhausted. I stood up, and introduced my lover to my old friend, who put on the charm.

  “Miss Cooper, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He actually bent down, took her hand, and brushed the Wombat over her knuckles. “I often felt as though Frank needed the calming influence of strong feminine companionship.”

  Charlie giggled at him, blushing just a little. Omura just shook his head.

  “I think we both get quite a lot out of our relationship, Inspector Andrews.”

  “Oh, now, please call me Jeffry. Ye might as weel be a sister ta me.”

  Smoothie. Whip out the brogue on command.

  “You are so kind, Jeffry! I think Frank learned a thing or two from knowing you.” She giggled a little more, and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to give her a lollipop or drag her into the kitchen for some adult dessert.