Dead Team Alpha: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Jake Bible

  “It’ll be here tomorrow morning,” Collin agrees.

  “Be right back,” Marsh says.

  “Your daughter made DTA, Uncle Collin,” Stanford says. “I’m the new TL for DTB Two.”

  “Good for you, son,” Collin says, his attention still taken up by his daughter that refuses to remove herself from his face. “And you too, Val. Proud of you both.”

  Val snorts and shakes her head.

  “What?” Collin asks, his breath rank and reminiscent of week old corn and vomit. “A father can’t be proud?”

  “A father has to be a father first,” Val says.

  “Yeah, well... Oh, thanks, Ward.”

  “Don’t thank me, Baptiste,” Marsh says as he tosses a faded orange jumpsuit at Collin. “Thank Juney Belle for not pressing charges. You got lucky, got it? Lifelong friends or not, dipshit, next time, I’ll have to put you before the tribunal. That happens and you won’t be walking out of here again for a long time.”

  “No need for threats, Ward,” Collin says. “It was all a misunderstanding.”

  “A ninety-two stitch misunderstanding,” Marsh says. “No more, Collin Baptiste. No more.”

  “I’ll make sure of that,” Val says. “Come on, Dad, time to look for work.”

  Sheriff Marsh steps aside and lets the three pass by, watching them as they walk down the hall and out of the holding cell area. He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

  “Fucking Baptiste’ll be the death of me.”

  “I heard that, you old fart!” Collin calls out.

  ***

  “Wait, I need to clean up first,” Collin says as his daughter drags him to the house next to theirs. “Just let me grab a whore’s bath, Val.”

  “You’ll apologize and tell Juney Belle that you are going to replace the ration tickets they are losing because of what you did,” Val says, knocking on the front door as Stanford takes a seat on the curb out front. “Stand up straight and look like a man.”

  “No need to talk like that,” Collin grumbles. “I’m your father and I-”

  “Don’t start,” Val says as the door opens. “Hey, Juney Belle.”

  “Val,” Juney Belle nods. The weak smile on her face fades quickly as she sees Collin. “Oh…you.”

  “My dad has something to say,” Val says. “Don’t you, Dad?”

  “Val’s making me get a job and give you all my ration tickets,” Collin says. “And I have to stop drinking the hooch or Ward is going to put me in front of the tribunal.”

  “And?” Val prompts.

  “And what?” Collin asks. The two women stare at him. “Right, yeah, sorry for what I did to Harmon.”

  “Can I see him?” Val asks.

  “He’s sleeping,” Juney Belle says, her eyes sending waves of hate towards Collin. “Maybe later.”

  “I’m probably going to have to work the shitter tanks,” Collin says. “Hope you’re happy.”

  “Hit him,” Val says. “I’ll back you up.”

  “Funny,” Collin says.

  “Not kidding,” Val says, looking at Juney Belle. “Need me to hold him? You can have one free shot to the face or a couple to the gut. I’d suggest face, since hitting him in the gut could produce results neither of us want to witness.”

  “Hey, now,” Collin protests. “This isn’t cool. Not at-.”

  His head rocks back as Juney Belle slams her fist into his nose. They both give a cry as Juney Belle pulls her hand back, shaking it, while Collin clamps a hand to his bleeding nose.

  “You okay?” Val asks Juney Belle.

  “I’m fine,” Juney Belle says. “Thanks, Val. I do feel better. But keep your asshole of a father away from us, okay? Next time, I go for the gut. With a knife.”

  “Understood,” Val nods. “Give my best to Harmon and tell him how sorry I am.” She grabs her father’s arm and pulls him from the doorway. “Come on, you have a job interview to get to.”

  Stanford stands and looks at his uncle’s face.

  “That’s bullshit, Val,” Stanford says. “Next time you are letting people hit your dad, you sure as shit better make sure I get to witness it.”

  “It was spontaneous,” Val says. “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. He needed a lesson.”

  “Stop talking about me like I’m a child,” Collin says.

  The two cousins look at each other and shake their heads.

  “Too easy,” Stanford says.

  “Like picking low hanging fruit,” Val says. “Let’s get inside and get junior here cleaned up and dressed. I want this day to be done with so I can get in some chill time before tomorrow.”

  “And make yourself smell all pretty for Doctor Love,” Stanford says. “I know you’re gonna try to sneak off for a pre-mission fuck.”

  “I am not,” Val snaps. “I’m not going to blow my shot at DTA.”

  “You still screwing that dork?” Collin asks as they step inside the Baptiste home. “Little nerdy twerp. Never liked him.”

  “Which makes him perfect,” Val says. “You liking someone is an instant red flag.”

  ***

  “Fuck,” Stanford sighs, his feet up on the patio table as he and Val sit out back, waiting for Collin to be done getting ready. “My face really fucking hurts.”

  “Being a punching bag for Cole Wright will do that,” Val says.

  “He didn’t have to give me such a fucking beat down,” Stanford complains. “I think I was done after hit number five.”

  “Quit griping,” Val smiles. “You’re the new TL for DTB Two. That’s not something you expected when you got up this morning.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Stanford says. “You and your fucking bright side.”

  Val looks down at her feet and the two large duffel bags filled to bursting with her gear. She glances around her at the house she’s lived in her entire life. There have been stretches at the Team barracks, but being on a Beta Team meant she didn’t have to live there full time, but DTA is different. Always on call, always ready to hit the shithole of Denver at a moment’s notice.

  “Worried about leaving him on his own?” Stanford asks. “And don’t lie. You’re a shit liar.”

  “Wouldn’t you be worried?” Val replies. “You should be. This whole town should be. Collin Baptiste left to his own devices is scarier than an alley full of Zs.”

  “But at least I smell better,” Collin says from behind the screen door. He pushes it open and walks onto the porch, tucking in his mostly clean shirt. “Now.”

  “Let’s go,” Val says. “I have to be at the barracks by 1700. It’s already 1300. Daylight is burning.”

  “And there are those promised beers,” Stanford says.

  “Beers?” Collin asks.

  “Not for you,” Val says.

  “I’m not taking a shitter crew job,” Collin states.

  Val picks up her duffel bags and hands one to Stanford as he gets up from his chair. He starts to protest, but stops when he sees the look in her eyes.

  “We all do our part, Uncle Collin,” Stanford says. “Every person counts.”

  “Don’t give me that propaganda bullshit,” Collin snaps. “I served my time supporting the Teams, just like every able bodied person in this place. Did my two years as a Runner and got the fuck out. Why? Because not every person counts. We’re fucking numbers, kid. That’s all. Just numbers to bolster the Us versus Them war that won’t ever end.”

  “It’ll end,” Val says. “One day, we’ll wipe out the Zs. Then we won’t need the Teams.”

  “Great,” Collin laughs. “You two will be unemployed and can join me on the shitter crew.” He shakes his head. “It’ll never end, Valencia, so get that through your head, okay? Maybe Denver gets cleared, but it’ll fill back up as more Zs migrate west. The East Coast still has millions and millions of undead all ready to go on a road trip.” Val starts to speak, but her father cuts her off. “And you think all the fucking crazies out there are going to just go sane all of a su
dden? It’ll never end. So don’t get your hopes up.”

  Stanford can see the struggle on Val’s face and he nudges her with his elbow as he walks to the porch steps. “Daylight’s burning, right? Let’s get Mr. Sunshine signed up and get you settled into the barracks. I’m sure your new Team has all kinds of fun and games planned for you.”

  “And you have a Team to command,” Val responds. “Anna Lee Franks is gonna love that.”

  “Shit,” Stanford says as they walk out to the street. “What am I going to do about her? She has been eyeing the TL job since before Cole took it.”

  “You’ll have to turn on that Lee charm,” Val laughs. “Which means you’re fucked, since she’s a Lee too and immune. Maybe you can appeal to her with cousinly love.”

  “Nah, she’s always hated me. She never has gotten me like you do, Val,” Stanford frowns then looks around. “Where’d your dad go?”

  Val looks about and spies the man taking a piss in the bushes.

  “Don’t wait for me!” he shouts. “Just a shake and I’m done!”

  “Barracks are looking pretty good now, huh?” Stanford says. “I think you’ve earned a little space from Uncle Trainwreck.”

  “Jesus,” Val replies. “Yeah, me too.”

  ***

  It was harder than taking a toddler to his first day of preschool, but Val got her father signed up and dropped off at the Sewerage Maintenance office. He cursed and swore at her for her betrayal, but she just gave him a hug, and the finger, then left to get to her new position. He was going to have to take care of himself for a while. She is on DTA now and can’t be her father’s babysitter any longer.

  “What took ya, rookie?” Mate Lyle Diaz asks as Val walks into the DTA wing of the Team barracks. He’s seated at a large, round table, picking his fingernails with a knife. “Thought you’d be rip-roaring ready to hang paintings of kittens and rainbows over your new bunk.”

  “I’ve been a Mate for four years, Diaz,” Val replies. “I’m no rookie.”

  “You’ve been a Beta Mate,” Mate Duster Townsend says as he walks in rubbing a towel over his shorn scalp. The rest of his body is still wet from the shower. And completely naked. “Doesn’t count around here. That’s the cleanup crew, not the real deal.”

  Val smirks and gives him a quick look up and down then focuses on his crotch. “I’m not seeing much of a deal in here at the moment.”

  “I’m a grower, not a shower,” Duster smiles, giving his dick a quick wiggle. “Just wait a second and I’ll give you a two for one deal that you can’t pass up.”

  “Cute,” Val says as she looks about the room. “Which one is mine?”

  “Far corner,” Diaz replies, pointing to the last set of bunk beds at the end of the room. “Hawks was here before you so she stowed her crap on the bottom bunk. Looks like you’ll be smelling her farts all night long.”

  “I prefer the top,” Val replies, holding up a finger. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Wasn’t going to say a thing,” Diaz smiles.

  Val lugs her gear over to the far set of bunks and drops the bags into the corner. She unzips them and pulls out her uniforms and other clothes, carefully laying them across the bunk, getting everything organized before stashing them in the stand up locker up against the wall.

  Once she has her clothes stowed, she unzips the second bag and begins to lay out her tactical gear.

  Two pairs of heavy boots, steel toed. Three pairs of gloves reinforced with small, steel plates for added impact. Four pairs of goggles, two tinted and two clear. A med kit. Four canteens. A collapsible baton. Six flares. And a tightly rolled, one person tent.

  The last item she removes is wrapped in cloth. Carefully, almost with reverence, she unwraps the item to reveal a leather-sheathed blade almost two feet long.

  “TL won’t let you bring any of that,” a voice says from behind her. “Everything comes from the armory before deployment and goes back to the armory after. No personal field kits. She doesn’t like variables.”

  Val looks over her shoulder at a fresh faced young man. Only an inch taller than Val, he gives her a wide smile, his dimples folding over the sea of freckles that cover his pale skin.

  “I’m bringing this,” Val says, patting the blade. “It’s been in my family for generations. It was given to Granny G by the-.”

  “The Great El herself,” Mate Bobby Breitenberg finishes for her. “Yeah, Baptiste, we all know the story. Everyone in the Stronghold knows the story. The Great El handed it to a young Granny G just before she walked outside the wall and down to Denver, never to be seen or heard from again.”

  “Yeah,” Val says, her face flushing with annoyance and embarrassment. “That’s the story.”

  “They say her ghost still haunts Denver,” Diaz calls from the table, now cleaning the fingernails on his other hand. “She watches over the Teams.”

  “I hear she’s still alive,” Tiny D says as she comes into the room naked and wet, drying her arms with a towel. She pulls it away and gives Duster a quick snap on the ass just before he pulls on his boxers.

  “Hey, bitch!” Duster yells, twisting around and looking down at his ass. “Fuck, TD! You broke skin!”

  “Couldn’t help myself,” she laughs. “That tight ass just gets me worked up.”

  “No way she’s still alive,” Diaz says, ignoring the two naked Team Mates. “She’d be like way over a hundred years old.”

  “Everyone said she wasn’t normal,” Tiny D responds, slipping on a tank top and pulling on her boxers. “Same with those sisters of hers. I hear that when she gave the blade to Granny G she looked the same age as when she arrived. That’s why she left with her sisters. People were getting freaked out.”

  “Who is getting freaked?” Mate Alastair Swanncutt asks as he walks into the room with a crate of bottles in hand. “Other than us, that is, now that I procured us some libations for the evening.”

  “I thought TL Lafferty said to lay off the drinking,” Val says. “We’re humping it down the mountain at 0500 after our briefing at 0400.”

  “Oh, shit, really?” Alastair grins. “Then I better go put this tasty beer back. I mean, if we’re humping it at 0500. In fact, we should just turn out the lights and tuck each other in.”

  “Maybe TL will read us a bedtime story,” Tiny D smirks.

  “I hope the bedbugs don’t bite,” Duster says.

  “You need some warm milk?” Alastair asks as he sets the crate down and starts throwing beer bottles at the other Mates. They all catch them with ease. “Or do you prefer to suckle straight from the teet, Baptiste?”

  “Beer!” Junior Hoal shouts as he comes in and intercepts a bottle being tossed to Duster. “Clank! Get in here! Al has beer!”

  Clank saunters into the room, moving with more grace than his bulk would seem to allow. “Where’d you get the beer, Al?”

  “I have my ways,” Alastair smiles.

  “You had to go down on that Stokely chick again, huh?” Diaz laughs. “Man, you can smell that twat a mile away.”

  Alastair shrugs. “It takes an educated nose to appreciate a bouquet like that, Diaz.”

  “I saw her,” Bobby says as he catches his beer.

  “You saw Stokely’s twat?” Alastair asks. “I thought I was the only one saddling up to that bar.”

  “No, not her,” Bobby says, popping the flip stopper off the beer. “The Great El.”

  The whole room, except for Val, groans.

  “Not this again,” Duster says. “Give it a rest, will ya?”

  “I did, guys,” Bobby says.

  “I did guys,” Tiny D mocks. “Come on guys, I did, I did.”

  “Not possible,” Diaz laughs.

  “The woman is long dead, bro,” Clank says. “Just drink your beer.”

  Val looks at Bobby, her eyebrows raised. “When?”

  “No!” Alastair shouts. “Do not get him started!”

  “Is that beer?” Hawks asks as she comes into the room. The whol
e Team goes quiet, forgetting about Bobby’s claim, and their eyes go from Hawks to Val. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Tiny D says, buttoning her uniform.

  “Nothing at all,” Duster says as he closes the door to the room.

  “Uh, what’s going on?” Val asks, her instincts telling her to bolt.

  “Nothing,” Diaz says, standing up.

  “Nothing at all,” Alastair grins.

  “Oh, shit,” Hawks says as she turns in a circle, noting the body language around her. “So this is when it happens?”

  “Come on,” Val says. “We got hazed when we joined the Teams. No need to do it again.”

  Clank pulls a couple lengths of chain out of his locker. Val glances at Bobby and sees he’s now holding two large canvas bags.

  “No way,” Val says. “I’m not going in those.”

  “Don’t like closed spaces, Mate?” Diaz asks as the Team begins closing in, forcing Val and Hawks into the center of a menacing circle.

  “Not a fan, no,” Val says. “So let’s just not and say we did.”

  “I’m with Baptiste,” Hawks says. “The TL will be checking in soon.”

  “Oh, she’ll be checking, that’s for sure,” Duster laughs.

  ***

  “You didn’t hurt them too much, did you?” TL Lafferty asks as she watches a group of children throwing dirt clods up at the two bags suspended between a couple of aspens. “They need to be ready for duty in the morning.”

  “There may have been a nose or two bloodied,” Diaz says. “One of those was Bobby’s.”

  “Hawks has a wicked left cross,” Bobby says, leaning against a large boulder, his hand pressing a rag to his face.

  “LET ME OUT!” Val screams from one of the bags. “YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!”

  “Claustrophobic,” Tiny D says. “Could be a problem.”

  “TL,” Alastair says as he hands the Team Leader a beer. “Saved you one.”

  TL Lafferty takes the beer and gives Alastair a grateful nod. She pops it and takes a long swig before shouting up at the bags. “You going to be an issue, Baptiste?”