by Anthony Puyo
“That was some shit. Some crazy shit . . . I know you’ve seen your fair share on the field.”
“Can’t deny that.”
“In your expert opinion, what do you think happened back there?”
Charlie takes a puff, “Looked like someone couldn’t let go.”
“You think?”
“Looked that way to me. The woman went crazy for certain, husband, boyfriend, didn’t know what to do. Probably knocked her out. Who knows, maybe made a few calls for help, but couldn’t get through. Noticed things were crazy all over. Boarded the place. Chained her up in the meantime; hoping for a cure or something. The whole desperate love story scenario—with a shitty ending of course.”
“What he got was one of those things,” Bodo interjects.
“That’s right. He became lunch.”
“Shit, that’s some sad stuff, man. It looked like he was taking care of her like a dog or something.”
“That is sad. Makes you wonder how many others couldn’t let go.”
Charlie’s last comment makes Bodo see a brief image of his ex and child again. It leads to a memory.
Almost two years ago they were on the beach near the tide in Santa Monica. The sun was setting, the warm wind caressed over them. Red, orange and yellow colors were soft in the sky; melting into each other over the shiny sea. Bodo remembers her smile, and the way her hair blew over her face. Sarah lovely—smiling—giggling, in her white spring dress holding their two-year-old son at the time. Barefooted, she swung him up above her chest, then down between her legs. The laughter and excitement that came from Bobby: a toddler at the time.
Their smiles were big; the laughs were real. Bodo was videotaping the lovely moment in time. It wasn’t always bad, but it never really is early in a relationship.
If you only knew, Charlie. I let go . . . Was I wrong?
Bodo stares in the direction of the two soldiers, seeing their silhouettes. He can see by their body language, it’s a serious discussion taking place. “What do you think those clowns are up to?”
Charlie spits. His eyes wary of them. He takes a last hit of the cigarette before tossing it. “Could be anything, their leaders a lunatic. I just hope it’s not some fucking goose chase he wants us to take part in. If that’s the case, I’m not having it.”
Bodo elaborates in three simple words. “I hear that.”
Brimm relays his plan in confidence. “It’s easy, private. We need them now, but when we’re close enough to the hospital, we won’t. That’s when we’ll put them down. The beret first. He’s got training and will be on to us eventually.”
Kelly isn’t pleased with idea. “But Bodo saved your life, sir.”
Brimm smirks. “If he wasn’t there, you would have come through. Don’t doubt yourself, private. Bottom line, they’re not fit for the regime. Cap doesn’t want crusaders. Got it?”
The young private nods in agreement. He’s not caring for the assignment; it down right bothers him. A part of him wants to push the issue further. But Kelly understands his place. His job is to take orders, even the hard ones. He has to have faith the matter will sort itself out in a positive way. Regardless of what he hoped for, now is not the time to sound disobedient.
Just go along with it for now, buddy. He thinks to himself. By now, everyone knew how the Captain felt about traitors. A grave after a good beating, that’s for sure.
Still, Kelly liked Charlie and Bodo. They’re good soldiers. But It is what it is, he concedes. Maybe the Sergeant will have a change of heart. Let them go.
The men continue down the alley, getting closer to Fresno Street which is a war zone by the looks and sound of it.
The adrenaline starts pumping. Huge fires, and outbursts light up the streets. All the different screams and yells: nothing could be distinguished. The only definite, is it is going to be a bloody sight.
Out of the alley, in squatting positions, they gaze north towards the hospital that is approximately two blocks away. Gun fire is being exchanged by soldiers and infected on the roads in front of them. Some of the scattered cars are being used as bombs, systematically being exploded with gas rags that hang outside the fuel tanks. Night vision snipers shoot the cloths from a distance to ignite them.
A loud whistle is heard ringing in the dark sky. It came for Gary and the men.
“Duck for cover!” Charlie yells.
The guys dive in all directions. A tank shell smashes into a medical office forty feet away from them, collapsing a wall and half the roof of the building.
Bodo crawls out on the debris littered road, knife in hand. He turns to see Charlie a few feet away doing the same with a handgun.
“It’s battle time, Champ!” Charlie relays.
“Easy for you to say.” Bodo shows his combat knife with a head shrug.
Brimm shouts, “Not much further, men, annihilate anything that wants to kill you!”
They move—dodging and ducking. It didn’t take long to see the infected and the infected to see them. They take them down where they can and take cover where they can’t. Dead bodies line up the streets. Some decomposing from earlier days while others are recent victims of the night.
The gap shortens between the oncoming offensive and the infected before colliding violently. Some of the evils wield firearms, evening the playing field.
As time goes on, the gunfire dies down with relation to ammo. Hand to hand combat is more readily seen. It is battlefield horror in its purest form. Brave men and women, most who never seen the likes of war, fight tirelessly.
Most of the recruits are the average Dick and Jane; the residents of the city: bankers, store managers, truck-drivers, teachers and every other kind of person the city is inhabited with. It is survival of the fittest. The war zone: the streets of their own hometown.
Bashing heads, stabbing, clawing for their lives—it goes back in forth. The world all over displayed this kind of trauma. When it was all over, some would say the earth bled more in one week than it had in a thousand years combined.
The signs were there all along, and Charlie especially, could see the infected were evolving. Successful killers in the beginning with no sense of remorse and a fearless drive to murder—feeling no pain added to their effectiveness. And now they’re more aware, forming groups for strength, not just trying to kill but trying to survive in the process. The death bringers had become perfect exterminators; putting civil humanity on the brink of extermination.
Charlie’s upright, behind a wall, firing his pistol at a few crazies who hid backside of a torched Prius. Fifteen feet away behind Charlie, is Brimm. The Sergeant kneels firing his rifle which is on its last clip. Bodo picked up a half loaded Beretta from a dead body. The big man leaned over the hood of Tacoma shooting in the same direction. Kelly is behind Charlie about eight feet reloading his rifle.
The bloodbath is up the street a little further. But they had to think twice about entering the kill zone. Hawks’ men are winning, but there are many infected still on the offensive.
Eruptions go off everywhere arriving closer to Brimm’s group. His head swivels. Skirmishes and small battles are heard all around, getting closer to pinning them in the middle. The ruckus brings out more crazies.
Hawks’ plan is indeed working. A bird’s view from the night sky would show the city looking like a blinking Christmas tree from all the mayhem.
Brimm is aiming his weapon, fighting, but the thought is floating around in his head. He needed to off Charlie and Bodo before they got to the hospital, and they were getting nearer. With all the hysteria, it would be as good time as any to do it now.
Gary aims at Charlie who’s occupied in a gunfight. One, two, the Sergeant pears through the cross hairs. His finger came down to the trigger, Charlie’s back in target. It may take a shot or two, but he could hit the heart if Charlie stops moving.
Finally—a clean shot for a quick kill! No is paying attention, it’s now or never . . .
BAM!
A buildin
g across the street detonates from a grenade gun. The ground shakes, and flames burst out the windows sending glass out in a spread. The flames catch the nearby infected on fire. The tremble itself makes Gary and the rest of the crew duck.
Charlie on his derriere, against the brick wall, faces Brimm and the others. “I’m out. We have to find another way there, or we’re not going to make it.”
Lucky sonofabitch, Brimm thinks, but for now, he agrees with Charlie. “Let’s head north, to the back of the hospital! It might not be as bad out that way!” And there I’ll finish this mission.
They run towards the back way. To their surprise, it’s less occupied and much darker too. It seems the front side of the hospital has garnered all the attention away.
They walk down the sidewalk for a quarter of a block. The closer they get, the quieter it becomes. Gunfire, the screaming, it all declines. The fighting is a few blocks south and east of them now. It’s also very heavy towards the west and on the other side of the hospital.
Bodo spats, “It eerie out here. So empty. Looks like the Captain cleared it out.”
He looks around at the huge desolate parking lots. All that remains is aftermath of what took place hours ago: a few dying fires, plenty of smoke, and of course—the dead.
The only bright lighting comes from the hospital in the near distance, and only from the higher story rooms. The ten-story tower served as a lighthouse of sorts, as the streets themselves could be looked at as the treacherous waters of the Atlantic during a perfect storm. And each pounding wave and jagged rock a sailor wanted to avoid in those hostile waters, so does Brimm and company want to avoid any hostile obstacles on these equally, if not more so, deadly roads.
“I’ll take this fine, over what we just passed” remarks Charlie.
Brimm interjects. “Tomorrow the fences will go up, and a permanent base will be made here.” Not that you’ll be around to see it.
Seeing the two, being Charlie and Bodo talking, Gary makes his move. He slows next to Kelly, letting them lead. “We have to finish it here before we get back.”
Kelly’s heart accelerates, he has no power to stop it. He’s still at odds with the notion. It doesn’t make much sense to him. The private’s palms begin to sweat, and he desperately tries to hide his gulp. With a withered voice he whispers. “Whatever you say, Sarge.”
Charlie and Bodo hear the boot steps of their contemporaries come to an abrupt stop. They have no idea something is a mist.
Brimm’s voice cuts the silence. “The road stops here, gentlemen. For you anyways.”
The guys halt and turn. Charlie wears a smirk before he even sees the whites of Brimm’s eyes. He had seen many missions in his day. He may be an old dog, but the tricks are just as old and treachery is even older—some say as old as mankind.
“I knew you had something planned, but I can’t say I saw this coming,” Charlie fusses with his hands up, anticipating a gun in Brimm’s hands, and he’s correct.
Gary Brimm, sarcastic in tone, “Maybe you’ve grown a little too dull for the game.”
Charlie sighs. “It’s possible. But I’d like to think the game has gotten too dull for me.”
The Sergeant breaths an admired chuckle.
Bodo isn’t as suave but rather pissed. “What the fuck, man. I done saved your worthless life?” He glares at both Brimm and Kelly angrily. He begins to take a step, ready to level the Sergeant, but Charlie holds him back.
Gary aiming, gazes over to Private Kelley with a satisfying smile. “Which one you want?”
Kelly, clearly indecisive, nervous, aims his pistol with shaking hands. He doesn’t say anything but aims back and forth between Charlie and Bodo.
Brimm encourages the young man. “Don’t be scared, kid, it’s just like killing one of those infected.”
“But they’re not. They’re not trying to kill us like them either.”
“Oh they would, if they had the chance.”
Charlie gazes at Kelly. “You don’t have to do this, son. We’re on your side. I see that you're a good soldier. I know you didn’t enroll for this. Don’t be a murdering coward like this man.”
Bodo adds, “Don’t be like that scum, you ain’t like him. If he’s gonna do this to us, how long before he whacks you?”
At first, Brimm laughs at the futile attempts to sway the private. But as he recognizes his man considering what they’re are saying, he angrily jumps in.
“Private, what are you doing? Don’t listen to them. Your one of us. One of Hawks’. You’re a fool to think they can help you. There’s no future with these people. They are weak, and they are traitors.”
Kelly ponders wildly, and his expressions and body language display it. Torn in two directions, he aims his gun at everyone—even Gary.
“Private, what do you think you are doing?”
Charlie interrupts. “What are you talking about? We’re not traitors! We’ve done everything you’ve asked of us! If anything, you're the traitor. Trying to rid the ones who helped you. You’re a disgrace to that uniform!”
Brimm puts out a stiff arm. “Shut up!” He stares back at Kelly who begins to break up. “Don’t believe them, private. The Captain told me what they thought of us, and he informed me of their plan. They harbored a spy, and they planned to desert us soon as an opportunity arose. Isn’t that right, Charlie? Tell him!”
“The man’s a psychopath. He’ll lead all of you to your death,” Charlie responds.
Kelly’s confused, upset, he begins to plea. “I don’t know Sarge. Can’t we just let them go? We can exile them. I won’t say anything.”
Brimm’s face shows disappointment. “That’s not an option we were given. We got to follow orders. We cannot let men like these, divide the regime. That’s part of their plan—to weaken us. We can’t trust them, private. Now, enough with the talk. Let’s get this over with and get back to base. Get something hot to eat and something cold to drink. Would you like that, private? A soft bed to sleep in sound good?”
Kelly nods his head in agreement to those things. He was tired: physically and now mentally. Eating, sleeping—it all sounded fabulous to him.
Charlie, seeing that Kelly is being convinced, interjects. “I know you're tired, hungry and thirsty. Everybody wants those things. Many good people too. Your Captain doesn’t have that in mind. He doesn’t want to save the people. I’m not sure he even wants to restore the government. I know there’s some good in you, you wouldn’t be a soldier if you weren’t a decent man. Don’t do the opposite of what you were called to do and shed innocent blood. Don’t be fooled, these men you work for, are every bit as evil as those infected are. Don’t you see that, son?”
Kelley puts his head down, fighting with himself, tears flowing.
Brimm’s losing the battle of words to Charlie, knowing what has to be done, he sighs in frustration. “Oh fuck it.”
He lets off a round in Charlie’s chest. It comes as surprise to all of them. They flinch, except the target.
Charlie buckles to his knees. His eyes filled with shock. Groaning as the shot went in him. He grabs on Bodo’s leg with a clenched hand.
Bodo instantly goes down to console him. “Fuck! Hold on, Charlie. You’re going to get through this.” He didn’t believe his own words, but he didn’t know what else to say.
Charlie touches his wound with his fingertips. Looking at his fingers, seeing the blood, his hand begins to shake, he begins to breath hard, making a whizzing sound with each inhale exhale. It takes a moment for Charlie to understand he is dying. He drops into Bodo’s shoulder whispering words that only himself could understand.
“Forgive me, Sandra.”
Bodo, with plenty of tears, consoles his dying partner. While embracing him, he peers up to Brimm and Kelly. “You sons of bitches! Evil motherfuckers!” He yells with tremendous emotion, no restraints. “Fuck you both!”
Brimm turns to the shaken Kelly. “You're up—Kill the nigger.”
Kelly aiming at Bodo, gape
s at the Sergeant. His mouth trying to utter out the words. “I can’t,” he stutters.
“What?” Brimm asks. Knowing exactly what Kelly said.
“I can’t, Sarge.” Kelley repeats with a loud whisper over his breath, accompanied by a nod. He gazes at the dead soldier in the crying man’s arms. Charlie never did nothing to him. And that’s all Eli Kelly can think of.
“Yes you can! Do it, soldier. Do it now!” Gary yells.
Sad, angry, disgusted, Bodo felt it all. His heart is in blistering pain. His fellow man—the world—has let him down, and he had enough. Even the strongest fall sometimes. Bodo’s sobs stop. In a defeated soft voice, he begins to say, “Do it. Just do it.”
Gary reiterates to Kelly. “Do it, soldier. Even he’s asking you to.”
Not getting a response, Bodo raises his voice and repeats himself.
Still no response.
After the third time of hearing his own voice, the man had convinced himself this is what he wanted.
The tortured soul daggered both men in the eyes. He was beyond angry. “Do it! Do it now! Kill me, motherfuckers! Kill me!”
Bodo rises to his feet. Something is going to happen either way. If they don’t shoot him, they are going to pay!
Kelly’s emotions run in different directions. He can’t take Bodo’s yelling anymore, and the Sergeant who keeps on telling him to do it. When Bodo stands, knife in hand, time runs out. Kelly’s mind overloads.
The young man yells to the top of lungs, “You want it! You want it! Fine!”
He squeezes the trigger wildly, non-stop, till only the repeated click of his empty gun could be heard. No more yelling, no more Brimm telling him to do it, no more nothing. It is the complete silence that breaks his concentrated state of mind. And there laid the realization. He did it, and now it was over. He completed the Captain’s orders, and now both Bodo and Charlie lie motionless on the sidewalk.
Kelly didn’t know what to feel, or if he had any feeling at all. He drops the empty gun on the pavement.
I’m a murderer. Charlie’s right, I didn’t sign up for this. What have I done?
He peers over to a teeth grinning Brimm. The Sergeant had his arms folded, his face showed admiration for Kelly’s work.