SHTF (NOLA Zombie Book 0)

by Zane, Gillian

  "Yeah, but, it's not what you think." She turned toward me to answer my question. She slid her leg over a barstool and pushed her body back. For the first time, I think she really looked at me because her attitude changed ever so slightly. Before, I was just in the background. More "help" buzzing around her to make her life go smoothly. Now we weren't being paid to follow her around or kiss her ass, not that we did before, but as part of her entourage we kissed her ass just by being there. I wasn’t background anymore.

  Her eyes trailed up and down my body and widened a bit. Just a tiny bit. That hurt my ego, I was expecting more. I was a reasonably attractive guy. I knew it, I wasn’t afraid to admit it. Call it ego, I just call it being self-aware. I worked hard on my body, it was how I stayed gainfully employed. A good soldier was a strong solider. If strength led to a six pack that helped land the chicks, so be it. And my parents had blessed me with good genetics, dark, thick hair that wasn’t even hinting at a receding hairline and strong features which my ex had called, vintage sexy–well, that just added to the charm. They didn't call me Romeo just because of my sparkling personality.

  "That took longer than usual," Martinez said into his beer and rolled his eyes when Lena's posture changed. It was subtle, but when you made your living with a gun in your hand you had to be able to read body language and posture. Noticing the way someone clenched their fist, or how they held themselves, was a lifesaver in our business. It could give you a few more seconds to react and those seconds could save the life you guarded and the men around you.

  I particularly noticed how she arched her back slightly. How she pressed her breasts out more and cocked her hips to the side. She was accentuating her assets for me. It was probably all done without conscious thought, but it was obvious to me and Martinez what she was doing–showing me that she had noticed me and had judged me worthy. Lena Devay, was flirting back...subtly, but still flirting. Notch. Belt.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" She frowned at Martinez's comment.

  "Well, usually it doesn't take long for the girls to notice Romeo, here," Martinez laughed and patted me on the shoulder.

  "Romeo, is that a nickname?" she asked. “It kind of suits you better than Tim.”

  "Yup, he earned it our first leave, right out of MARSOC, the bastard had them flocking to him like termites to a street light."

  "MARSOC?" she asked.

  "Marine's Spec Op Training, it's like training for badasses," Martinez grinned.

  "Sure," she laughed. "You guys are total badasses."

  "No really, you should have seen that shit. Romeo smiled and panties dropped," Martinez joked and I just glared at him. Talk like this was supposed to bring me down a few notches, but usually it just added to the appeal. Girls like bad boys.

  "It's hard being this pretty," I smirked. "Martinez, I know you can't even imagine." Martinez wasn’t that bad looking either, even though I gave him a lot of shit. He was a bit shorter than me, barely cresting the six foot mark, but he had me on the width department. The guy was like a tank, all shoulders and guns. He kept his dark hair cropped short to the head, but grew a goatee so he wouldn't look like a baby. That bronze Latin skin kept him looking perpetually eighteen. I thought it was hilarious how he constantly got carded, even though it aggravated him to no end.

  "Fuck you, cabrón," Martinez laughed and signaled to the bartender for another round. Both of our glasses were already drained, Lena was still working on hers, taking dainty little sips.

  "So, you two were in the Marines together and now you’re bodyguards? That has to be boring, compared to before?”

  "Yeah," I said lightly.

  "No," Martinez said at the same time.

  Lena smiled at the two of us and shook her head.

  “Romeo is bored unless he has a gun in his hand, is neck deep in the shit and taking fire, or in some hot chick’s bed.” Martinez slapped me on the back again.

  "Sounds dangerous." Lena didn't look impressed, though.

  "Stupid," Martinez chuckled.

  "That ain't true," I defended myself. I wasn't that much of an adrenaline junkie. "I like tactical details more than guard duty because I like keeping busy. Guarding people, I feel like I'm just standing around, waiting for something to happen. Boring."

  "You just can't be content," Martinez said with a little more bite than I expected. Martinez was one of my closest friends, we weren’t as close as we had been when we were in the Marines and deployed together, but we always fell back in step whenever we got together. He had a wicked sense of humor and was good for a laugh. He also always had my back. Now, he just seemed like he was fucking with me.

  The door of the bar opened and a gust of wet, hot wind rushed through the bar. We all turned to take in the new patron, gawking at them for something to do instead of staring at the television screens. It was a young guy, he looked barely old enough to gain entrance, but he showed his ID to the bouncer at the door and the man waved him through.

  "That's my friend, Charles," Lena said, sliding off the stool she had been sitting on and touching us both lightly on the back as if in thanks. "Thanks for the company, gentleman." She walked over to the boy and pulled him into a hug that was a little too long for a casual greeting. They walked over to a set of tables in the corner and sat down and immediately began to talk animatedly.

  "Lost to a kid, tough break." Martinez shook his head and smiled as the bartender lined up four shots of tequila in front of us.

  "She'll be back," I said, even though I knew I wouldn't give her any reason. I drew the line at clients, no matter how much their smile dazzled and how nice their tits looked through the thin material of their tee. "And what the fuck is your issue with me? Making me out to be some dick with my head on backward, looking for a fight or a fuck?”

  I grabbed a shot off of the bar and threw it back. It was the good shit, Martinez didn't play.

  "You don't need to have her mooning all over you, she's a client," he said after he took his own shot.

  "I know that shit, I wasn't trying to hit that." I grabbed the next one.

  "Yeah, that's the point, you wind 'em up and then walk away, doesn't go over well with Miller, you know that shit. After Tanya Killian you gotta watch that shit." He was referring to a client Miller and James had up at the compound, our training area that doubled as a client retreat. Miller had asked me to show her around, run her through some drills because she wanted to include them in her workout routine. She had ended up inviting me in for the night and then getting all pissed when I refused. She had even tried to get me fired. I had only flirted a little, it was second-nature.

  "I couldn't help that shit," I set the shot glass down.

  "Yeah, you could, tone the flirt down." He signaled for another round. We were going through the drinks a little too fast. I would have to slow it down. I liked to drink, but I didn't like to get drunk. I didn't like to be impaired, in any way.

  "I could say the same for you." I shook my head and pulled out my phone when a text came through, the phone vibrating in my pocket.

  When I checked the screen it wasn't a text, but a news alert. A message was broadcasting on the television also. The whole bar went quiet when the jarring sound of an emergency broadcast sounded over all of the screens.

  "This is not a test, this is an emergency alert. The federal government has issued the following warning- all airplane travel has been suspended to the following cities due to the iKPV virus, New York, Miami, and Atlanta. All travel in and out of those cities has been suspended until further notice. The federal government has restricted airplane travel to the following cities..."

  "Holy fuck," Martinez mumbled into his beer.

  "It's worse than they’re making it out to be." I couldn't imagine how bad the infection rate must be if they suspended travel. Not to mention, why would they suspend airfare, but have the cities still open? If it was really that bad they would probably have to close down the entire city, nothing in or out, driving, flying, train, you n
ame it. Full quarantine. But that would have the whole country in a panic and the government didn't like panic. Panic led to looting, lawlessness, and general chaos. General chaos never did well for the politicians.

  "It has to be, if they had it contained they wouldn't lock the cities down." He pulled out his phone and began to search the web. "There isn't much on any of the blogs, though, just saying airlines are better incubators for the virus so as a precaution they are restricting travel."

  "That doesn't ring true." I shook my head. They wouldn't suspend air travel just as a precaution. That would cost the airlines millions of dollars. You don’t take a loss like that as a precaution, you do it as a last resort.

  "No, it doesn't, but no one is screaming foul, not even the conservative blogs," he said as he typed something in. "I'm getting 503 errors for a few of them, that's strange." He kept searching on his phone, shaking his head as his searches didn’t return anything substantial.

  "Since we're off tomorrow, we should probably do a bit of research. If this infection comes to New Orleans, we need to be prepared. If they're feeding misinformation to keep everyone calm, we'll have to dig deeper. I don’t want to get caught with my pants down.”

  "Yeah, you're right, we'll need Flip and his skills." He sent off a quick text to Flip. Jerome Flip was our tech expert, he could work magic with anything that plugged in or charged up. He could also hack the NSA if he had the inclination...considering they were the ones that recruited him when he was fourteen. He had always wanted to run around with a weapon, so when Blake Miller recruited him, he promised he would train him. From what I had heard he was driving Miller crazy with his dreams of becoming a hard ass.

  James and Miller had put together a really good team with MJ Security. The company was only a few years old, but it was bringing in business left and right. I had been in it since the beginning, both Martinez and I. I know I bitched about Martinez a lot, but he and I had always gotten along. He was my brother in every sense of the word. We had met in MARSOC and had been deployed under Blake Miller's command right after training, sent straight to the shit. We were wet-behind-the-ears and dying for some action. Young, dumb and with a shit-ton of bullets, as they say. It's where we met Zach James, Miller's partner in the firm and a man I would follow into Hell itself if he asked me.

  When James had contacted me, pitching me his idea about the firm, I didn't bat an eye. It also helped that we were both from New Orleans and he was dead set on putting the home-base in the area. I would be able to move home, connect with my family and make a living at what I knew best. I wasn't surprised when Martinez followed, even though he was from Texas. It wasn't hard for him to get home, especially during the holidays. I had even made a few trips with him to Austin to visit his family, he had a few really hot cousins.

  "He's not responding," Martinez said.

  "Probably out having fun on a Friday night, like we should be doing." I drained the last of my beer and set it on the bar, pushing up from the stool. "Gotta use the head, don't get infected while I'm gone."

  He chuckled, but it was a very grim chuckle.

  Three

  Drunk Tourists

  THE bathroom was actually clean in this place, which surprised me. Usually, the pisser in a dive like this was a nasty hole of a room with graffiti covered stalls and clogged urinals. I was able to wash my hands with actual soap and I came out all minty clean when I stepped into the hall, right into the path of a little unsteady brunette in a very tight red dress.

  If I couldn't have a redhead, maybe I should settle for a red dress?

  She smiled wide when she saw me and steadied herself by placing her hand on my chest, pursing her lips when she made contact with my pecs. She didn't step back and apologize, she just sort of looked me over, not ashamed of her blatant perusal.

  "See something you like?" I asked casually.

  "Yes, actually," she purred. She was probably a few years older than me, I wasn’t good at judging a girl’s age, but it was obvious she had greeted thirty a few years back. When it came to girls in bars, they were either too young for me, too old, or just about right. Luckily for this one, she was in the just about right category, so I smiled back.

  "I have to use the little girl's room, but I'm going to come find you when I get out," she promised and it was almost a threat, but I didn't mind. I liked those kinds of threats.

  "You do that," I laughed and watched as she slid past me into the women's restroom. She had legs up to her tits, which were nice and most likely enhanced with a bit of silicone or saline, whatever they were using these days. Her dress left nothing to the imagination, so there would be no surprises, but that didn't matter. It would get my mind off the bullshit for a few hours. All night if she had a kinky side.

  I sat back down next to Martinez and nodded my thanks as the bartender slid another beer in front of me.

  "Thought you fell in," Martinez grumped.

  "Fell into a brunette's lap, more like it," I laughed.

  "You went to the bathroom and lined up a chick? Figures." He turned around to check on Lena, who was still in the corner talking with her friend.

  I looked over with Martinez and we caught her eye, she looked up and waved. She said something to the guy she was with and he turned around and actually waved us over. I guess they wanted us to join them.

  Martinez and I grabbed our beers and walked over to Lena's table, pulling up stools around the high-top.

  "Charles, this is Romeo and Lucas. Guys, this is my friend Charles." The guy stuck his hand out and I shook it. He barely gripped my fingers and then moved on to Martinez.

  "Charles's dad was married to my mom when we were kids, so technically he's my sort-of stepbrother, but their marriage didn't last long. Charles is going to Tulane, so whenever I'm filming down here we like to get together."

  "Nice to meet you Charles," I said as politely as I could.

  "It's crazy that Lena's so famous that she needs bodyguards," he said rather shell-shocked.

  "You never know how life is going to turn out," Martinez laughed.

  "I know, right? And to think that just ten years ago we were running around in wigs acting out High School Musical, Lena always wanted to be Sharpay ‘cause she desperately wanted to be blonde," Charles laughed and Lena frowned, putting her finger up to her lips to shush her friend.

  "The world has too many blondes, I like the red," I said tugging on a loose strand that had fallen out of her cap. She looked at me, her lips parted as if to say something, but the televisions erupted into sound again as the bartender turned up the news.

  "This is a special news broadcast," the camera cut to a harried looking man standing in front of the new medical complex on Canal Street, "We've just gotten word that the first confirmed outbreak of the iKPV virus has been admitted to the University Medical..." the sound cut off from the television and was replaced with the loud screeching beep of the emergency broadcast again. All the screens flashed with a red message at the bottom of the screen and the most nail-biting voice came across the speaker.

  "iKPV Virus cases have been recorded in or around the Metro New Orleans area. If you suspect you are infected, report to the hospital immediately. People with non-emergency medical issues, other than suspected iKPV are asked to go to Urgent Care clinics and avoid the emergency rooms."

  The message repeated again and then shut off. The reporter's broadcast began in the middle of his speech. "...medical officials are reporting at least three cases of the iKPV virus and are asking if anyone has contact with someone showing symptoms to report to the hospital immediately. Back to you Greg," the reporter cut off and was replaced with a man at the news desk.

  "In other news President Obama has issued another statement this evening dismissing claims that the Islamic State is behind the outbreaks of the iKPV virus, stating emphatically that it’s most likely tied to climate change and the melting polar caps. Leading forensic botanist, Doctor Leonard Bovinski claims that a virus could sit underneath
the ice for millennia and would be released into the air as the ice melts…” The newscaster was replaced with a clip of the president.

  "Frankly, anyone can tweet a claim that they are behind this. We are looking into it and our experts think that it is more likely a natural infection than a biological weapon.”

  The bartender pointed the remote at the television and lowered the volume, cranking up the music. I was grateful. I didn't want any more news. Each screen held another talking head with nothing better to talk about than the iKPV virus. They kept discussing what it meant and how the world was going to end and how it was this group’s fault or that person's issue because of their beliefs. Last month it was Ebola, this month iKPV, it was always something–but this was the first time they'd ever done an emergency broadcast and shut down the airports. That didn't bode well.

  "This stuff is serious," Charles said sipping on a red concoction that looked like watered down blood.

  "I don't know what the hell to believe, they said the same things about Ebola, it was going to kill everyone and it only killed that one guy. Have people died of this yet?" Lena asked.

  "They aren't doing victim profiles like they did for the other outbreaks, that tells me they're dying. And they're dying quickly. They haven't even announced how it's transmitted, just that it's highly infectious. I don't like that they're urging everyone to the hospitals if they suspect infection. It smells of quarantine," Martinez said and he rolled his beer between his palms, thoughtfully. "Now that it's in New Orleans, we have to take serious precautions." He looked at me and I saw Charles and Lena glance at each other, panic flying across their faces. I didn't want to get them all worked up.

  Martinez and I could discuss strategy and preparedness until we were blue in the face and not get stressed out, but when civilians were involved they tended to panic. I had to lighten the mood a little.