by Downs Jana
“I’ll go with you. I won’t run,” Derek promised.
“Liar,” the Necro King said. “I know better than that. You
promised you wouldn’t run the first time.”
“Getting eaten isn’t on my top ten things to do before I die list.
Forgive me for that!” Derek snapped, clearly as close to losing it as
Andrew was. Matthew was curiously numb, resigned somehow to his fate. It was a bit like being in shock. He felt like he’d been so scared
that now all the feeling had been drained out of him completely. “And I told you before, I won’t eat you. I need you. You’re the
key,” Markus said, unruffled by the obvious fear.
“Master,” a Necro said from the crowd. “Hungry.”
“Shut it,” Markus rumbled. “You can eat the dead when we’re
finished.” A happy sigh circulated through the crowd, and Matthew
nearly vomited. He would rather be dead than one of those things. Derek trembled. “Let them go and you can tie me up and take me
with you wherever. There is an airlift coming. Let them get on it.” The Necro King tilted his head to the side like a cat considering a
mouse. “And this would please you?”
“Yes. Show a little mercy.”
“But I feel none,” Markus said. “Odd to show mercy and not feel
it, don’t you think, my beautiful little latent?”
Latent what? Matthew swallowed. He didn’t know what the hell
was going on, but he knew he wanted the fuck out of here. Andrew
fell to his knees and vomited. Matthew cursed and dropped down
beside him, gathering him up in his arms and rocking him back and
forth in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Marcel did the same,
tucking Andrew’s face into his neck to hide him from the crowd. “Shh, Andy,” Marcel whispered. “It’ll be all right. We’re together,
and nothing is going to hurt us.” It was a lie, and they both knew it. “Don’t let them crush me,” Andrew pleaded, his voice a thread
above hysteria. “Let me run. Please, let me run.” He dissolved into
sobs that tore at Matthew’s heart like zombies through a fresh kill. He
winced at the expression. Now was very much not the time to be
thinking of that.
“Stop toying with me!” Derek shouted. “If you’re going to kill us,
just fucking do it!”
The Necro King made a sound a shade too dark to be laughter.
“Why would I kill the key to my sanity?”
“Why do you keep saying that? It’s not true! I can’t do anything!” The Necro King made a sound of annoyance. “It’s not what you
can do. It’s what you are.” He sighed. “If it would please you that
much, I’ll allow the humans to leave, unharmed. You have my word.
Consider it a gift of good will.”
Yeah, right. The word of a talking corpse wasn’t worth much. A
quick glance around them said that even if the Necro King wouldn’t
hurt them, the rest of the infected would, given the slightest chance.
Their hungry stares were a little unnerving.
Matthew forgot to breathe as the sound of an air transport reached
his ears. They weren’t far off. If they could possibly break through the
crowd and reach the ladder— He banished the thought. They’d never
make it. He raised his eyes, searching the sky for their salvation. The
whir of engines above them grew louder, and he strained to
distinguish the tones. It sounded like more than one air transport. But
that was impossible. The UMF would’ve only cleared one permit in
the time they’d had to get one.
Four air transporters appeared in the sky, and his heart soared. It
wasn’t possible. “Andrew, look, they’ve come for us,” Marcel
murmured, pointing skyward. “They’re going to take us home.” As Matthew watched, three of the transporters opened, and UMF
and SCAB guys dressed in camo and black dropped out. They’re
really trying to fucking rescue us. “Derek, get down!” The military
men hit the ground and opened fire.
Derek dropped to his belly as the mass of infected writhed. The
Necro King followed suit but not before letting out a shriek that
sounded far from human. The Necros turned and ran for the outskirts
of the clearing, and the lower-level infected ambled as best they could
in the same direction. Matthew blinked. They weren’t attacking the
gunners. Why? They always attack us. Nothing made sense anymore. The Necro King gave another of his lyrical whistles, and the
infected scattered, all but melting into the trees as the field agents
fired at them as they retreated. In their absence, the carnage was
revealed. Dozens of infected littered the ground like so much trash. “Clear!” one team leader shouted from the north edge of the
clearing.
“Clear!” another barked from the east. The word repeated a few
more times as they checked the area. Matthew tore his gaze away
from the agents and looked back toward their group. The Necro King
crouched beside Derek, holding a wicked-looking knife to his throat. “Scream and die, boy. I am in no mood to be shot at,” the Necro
King rumbled. He’s being held hostage by a zombie. Now I’ve seen
everything. It would’ve been comical had he been able to feel
anything at all. The only things that seemed real were the two men in
his arms.
“Mattie?” a familiar voice called.
“Dad?” he asked, shock infusing him. Hope blossomed. “Holy
shit! Dad!” He stood without thinking only to have to duck back
down as someone fired a shot off at him.
“Hold your fire, you fucking idiot! That’s my son!” Jack Gibson
bellowed as he crossed from the far side of the clearing to where they
all knelt. Matthew’s chest tightened. He’d never been so glad to see
his old man’s face in his life. He looked the same as he had a few
days ago, but it seemed like it had been forever. His eyes, the same
color as Matthew’s own, looked down on them. “Any infected?” He
waved his hand toward the Necro King. “Apart from the spare, of
course.”
Matthew shook his head. “We’re good.” He looked at Derek. Jack nodded. “Good.” He motioned to two men in heavy body
armor from head to toe. “Take the Necro, please.”
The Necro King hissed, his golden eyes filling with fury. “Touch
me and I’ll slit his throat.”
Shock passed over Jack’s face but not nearly as much as there
should’ve been. “Ah, they told me you could talk. It’s still weird as
fuck to hear it, though. Gentlemen?” One raised a small-caliber pistol
and fired. To his surprise, a dart erupted from the tip and hit the Necro King in the throat. Within seconds his knife fell to the ground along
with his body.
“Are you insane?” Derek snapped. “He could’ve killed me!” “He wouldn’t have,” Jack said, unperturbed. “He’s been on
Special Divisions lists for retrieval for months now. Along with you,
of course.”
Derek paled. “Me?”
“Exactly,” Jack said. The second agent in body armor fired and
another red dart hit Derek square in the chest. He dropped. Some UMF agents came over and dragged the two of them off,
depositing them in black boxes that looked a little like coffins or
animal-transportation boxes. “What the fuck is that?” Marcel asked.
; Matthew shrugged. He wasn’t sure, but he would wager that they’d
stepped into some very high-clearance ops.
Jack cleared his throat to get their attention. Matthew looked back
at his father. “Deadzone is going to drop the ladder down in a second.
You are going to climb up it, and you are never going to talk about
what you saw here, do you understand?” There was something very
careful in his tone of voice, and understanding filled Matthew. If I
wasn’t his son, we’d all three be dead. Special Ops didn’t leave
witnesses. He shivered. What had his father gotten involved with? “We understand,” Matthew said, finding his voice through the
lump in his throat.
“Good.” He helped the three of them to their feet before pulling
Matthew into a tight hug. It was only then he could feel the slight
tremor in his father’s body. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Mattie.” He swallowed. “Thanks, Dad.”
“I’ll come find you when this is all over. Don’t re-up until I do.
Okay?”
“Okay.” What else could he say? What else was there to say
really? He stepped back and took his lovers’ hands. “I might not be
home. I might be in sector ten.”
Understanding dawned on Jack’s face. “Ah, I see. Good for you.
I’ll find you there.” He turned and walked away without a backward
glance.
Marcel gave his hand a squeeze. “Let’s go home.”
* * * * Marcel had seen some strange things in his life, but what they’d just witnessed topped them all easily. His head was pounding as they shut the door to the air transport and handed them all headsets to block out some of the engine noise. Andrew trembled between them, no doubt reliving the nightmare anxiety he wrestled with, and Matthew wasn’t much better. He was staring off into space, expressionless and clearly numb. It was shock. He’d seen it before. Sometimes a body could only take so much trauma before it snapped. It looked like Matthew had reached his breaking point.
Marcel leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, concentrating on nothing but breathing through his growing migraine. If he never saw another tree, river, or zombie again, he would be a happy man. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted suddenly. The adrenaline must be wearing off.
He felt like he needed to lock himself in his house for the next year. He didn’t know much for sure, but the one thing he did know was that he didn’t want to be alone when he did it. The two men beside him were the only ones he wanted there. Maybe it was the trauma of the experience. Maybe it really was love at first sight. Whatever the reason, he needed them with him. So much had happened in the past forty-eight hours that he just wanted everything to stop. He needed a focal point. He looked over at Matthew and Andrew. They were that point.
At some point he must’ve fallen asleep, because when he next opened his eyes, the pilot announced they’d be arriving in approximately fifteen minutes on top of Deadzone tower. The landing pad on the roof was a handy feature. He hoped they wouldn’t keep them long.
Andrew leaned against his shoulder, much calmer-looking now than he had been when they’d been picked up. He felt a twinge of guilt for not helping him through it like he had last time. Matthew was still staring off into space on the other side, looking as distant as he had when Marcel had drifted off. We all just need some sleep. We’ll be right as rain afterward. He rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up.
They landed without a hiccup, and he was the first one to stand. It took some coaxing to get the other two moving, but he managed without much fuss. He left their packs on the transport. Everything they needed was here. He hopped down the steps to the concrete building top, followed by Andrew and then Matthew. He was in a bit of a daze. They’d had a hell of a day. He was covered in infected blood, dirt, and sweat. Shower then bed. It helped to have a plan. He didn’t even know what time it was. It was dark out, but past “night,” he didn’t have much of a descriptor.
The door to the building opened, and he tensed for a second, reaching for his empty weapons, before his brain registered that no one was going to tear out of there ready to kill them. He shook his head. Man, it’s been a hell of a day. He wasn’t too surprised when Jason and Brook came out of the door.
Brook’s expression was as brittle as Marcel felt, and guilt was evident all over his visage. He went over to Andrew and pulled him into a hug while Jason did the same to Matthew. While Andrew gave a weak hug in return, Matthew didn’t move. Protectiveness rose hard and fast in his chest.
“They need to rest, fellas,” he said over the engine of the transport. They were keying it down, but it was still loud as hell. “We’re going to go shower, then we can talk.”
“Of course. Don’t worry about using the ones on the field agents’ floor. You guys can use the one in our office. The couches pull out to beds if you want to sleep,” Jason said, turning to look at him. “You did a great job, Carter.”
Marcel nodded his thanks at the compliment, but his heart really wasn’t in it. They had lived, but it really hadn’t been from anything he’d done personally. It had been a bit of luck and a whole lot of “what the fuck” moments that had gotten them back to civilization. “We need a transport back to sector ten first thing in the morning.”
Jason nodded. “Consider it done. You can all take our personal jet as soon as you get up.” He keyed in his passcode, and the door buzzed to admit them.
Marcel was relieved at the quieter interior and the familiar clean smell of the hallway. The maintenance people always used a bit of lemon in their cleaning solutions, so it always smelled slightly citrusy after hours. “What time is it?” Andrew asked, his voice a hoarse thread of sound.
“It’s almost midnight,” Brook said, worrying his bottom lip. “I’m really sorry I left you guys. Everything went to hell after we left.”
Marcel shrugged. “No big deal, Brook. If you would’ve stayed, you’d probably be dead right now.” We should all be dead right now. That bit went unsaid. The thought was too chilling to say out loud. A shudder worked down Matthew’s frame. It was the first emotion he’d betrayed since his father had seen them off. He frowned just thinking about that encounter. If it had been Marcel’s dad, there would be tears, kisses, and a barrage of hugs. They had one hug and a pat on the shoulder. Maybe it was because they were both SCABs, but it had seemed to contrast with the close relationship Matthew had told them about earlier. With effort, he dragged his attention back to the conversation. “I’m just glad you and Bryan made it out before everything went south.”
“We’re going to send the company psychologist around in the next few days to check up on you at your residences,” Jason said. “I told Jim that you guys might want longer, but he insisted. Boss man is stubborn like that.”
“We’ll all be at my place,” Andrew said. “Send him there.”
Jason looked at them with a puzzled expression on his face, but he didn’t ask questions. That was good. Marcel didn’t know if he could handle much more conversation. He was so damn tired. “Okay. I’ll send her over toward the end of the week.”
They took the elevator at the end of the hallway down to the company presidents’ offices, which resembled more of a penthouse than anything else to Marcel at the moment. He barely registered the plush carpet or expensive furniture. Nothing mattered but a shower and some sleep.
Jason showed them where all the toiletries were and all but dragged Brooklyn out of the room. Marcel rubbed his hands over his face again. What a mess. He managed to key in the water temperature for the three-headed shower and waited for the water to warm. The bathroom had clearly been designed to accommodate all three lovers. The tiled bathroom was wide enough to fit three grown men easily, and it enabled each man to have his own showerhead. It was luxurious, and it enabled them to stay together, which was just what Marcel thought they need
ed. Taking turns in a shower cubicle sounded awful. He didn’t want to be alone with his own thoughts.
They stripped off their clothes and deposited them straight in the trash shuts. By the time they got out, someone would have delivered some field agent standards to the room, or so Jason had promised on his way out.
“I’m going to have to get me one of these when I get back home,” Andrew murmured, stepping into the spray. “I’ll have to remodel the bathroom.” Marcel recalled that had been his new project only last year. It’d be a pity to waste all that work.
“We can make do with what you have,” Marcel said. He took Matthew’s hand and tugged him under the water.
“I know we can. I just want a new project.” That was Andrew’s way. He was always working on something when he was home. Lucky for him, he had the money to do it.
The swirling water emptying into the drains turned a muddy redbrown almost instantly. They were dirtier than he’d thought. He groaned as the water caressed his scalp. It felt good to get clean again. He grabbed the shampoo off the built-in shelf and poured a good amount in his hand.
“Come here, Matthew. Lemme wash your hair.” He needed to touch him, make sure he was all right. The man was being way too quiet. Matthew nodded and tilted his head back so he could reach. Andrew grabbed the bar of soap and joined him, washing away the grime on Matthew’s body.
Matthew groaned at the contact. “Feels good.”
“Good,” Marcel said. “You are worrying me a bit. How you doin’?”
“Really tired. I think the shock is wearing off. I was starting to get cold. The water helps. I don’t know what my problem is. I’m usually stronger than this.” He sounded embarrassed by the fact.
Andrew snorted. “Hush, you. Strength has nothing to do with it. Your body is protecting itself from being psychologically fucked. That’s not weakness. It’s just a cause-and-effect thing.” Marcel looked down at his lover, impressed. Andrew seemed to be recovering nicely if he could chastise Matthew like that. He was proud. He hadn’t been kidding when he had told Matthew that underneath the slight timidity and anxiety, there was a thread of steel. Andrew had been a fighter for as long as Marcel had known him.
Matthew sighed. “I know that logically. It’s harder in practice.” He smiled sheepishly at the pair. “Thanks for taking care of me. You two wash off while I soak. I’m feeling a bed calling my name.”