by Ts Alan
Ryan had been a kind and gentle soul before Stone’s group found him and two co-survivors scavenging for food for their small band. But the humiliation, the degradation, the anguish, and the trauma that he had suffered by their hands had caused him to harden. He was no longer going to be a victim. He stood in the archway with a pistol in his hand, and though he was a pacifist at heart and the majority of his experience with a firearm had been with a BB rifle when he was younger, it didn’t mean he was unwilling to use the weapon or incapable of shooting someone at close range if it was in defense of his own life.
He was plain in his words as he explained the situation, attempting not to give away any vital information that could be used as intel if Paul Wiese was really a spy as J.D. suspected.
“You’ve heard my request,” he told Paul. “Will you help me or do you prefer to stay locked up until the colonel returns?”
“You mean if he returns”
“I give you my word, if you help me I’ll listen to your story, and if I believe you are true and sincere I’ll help you in whatever way I can, as I know the doctor will.”
“Let’s just cut the crap and pretense. You’re not military. And this colonel of yours, he’s not military either. And you’re only asking me for help because you have no other option. Whatever the reason, everyone has chosen to leave, which makes them smarter than you and whoever else was stupid enough to stay behind, because the group that forced me to join them is definitely the same group that attacked this place. I know this because I heard talk when I was with them. And they want this place.
As for the one you call Renquist, he’s not the boss—that’s Stone. And he’s one sick fucker with no moral compass who will not hesitate to fuck you in the ass and slit your throat at the same time just for his own amusement and gratification. There’s nothing more I’d like to see than that depraved son-of-a-bitch emasculated and eviscerated for the things he’s done and continues to do. And if this colonel of yours is some kind of badass who can end him, then hell yeah, I’m in.”
9
Guardian of the Fallen
Corpses of half-mutes greeted the two as they pulled their vehicle onto the creaking wooden slats of the pier and in front of the apparently abandoned Stryker. The waterfront felt ominous. Ryan had been here several times. He remembered the large crowds that gathered during the summer tourist season, filling the restaurants, visiting the many ships, watching the street performers, and patronizing the shops. The atmosphere then was festive, almost carnival-like, but for Ryan it felt like a time that was so long ago, a fading memory of the time before the plague that silenced his beloved city.
It was fall now, the season waning and the winter months looming, which only added to the silent and eerie feel on the aging, unattended pier. A light cool breeze blew through the promenade, and seemed to cry for those days of man, the days of joyous noise and revelry. Though Paul had never been to the Seaport, he felt it too, a chilly tingle running through him as he and Ryan cautiously made their way from their ICV to the back of the other. The truck was still running, but the rear deployment gate was secured. They knocked hard on the rear gate, but there was no answer. Ryan thought it was possible that J.D. could be inside, injured, unable to respond, so he told Paul to climb up and see if a gun port hatch was unlocked. Ryan stood guard as Paul made his way up over the slat armor to the gunner’s turret. A loud cry came from Paul as he quickly jumped down from the vehicle.
“Holy shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit!” he repeated frantically. “There’s—there’s one of those… creature things in there, and it’s got your colonel. I should have taken my chances and stayed at the armory. He’s done for.”
Ryan needed to know for himself. He couldn’t just leave the man who was instrumental in his rescue behind unless he was positive he was dead. Ryan peered cautiously through the hatch, with weapon at the ready, and was shocked at what he was witnessing. He had expected, by Paul’s reaction, to see the transmute feeding on J.D.’s corpse. What he discovered, what he couldn’t believe he was witnessing, was a female creature cradling J.D. in her arms, like she was comforting him, protecting him.
He was astonished at the tenderness and attention it was giving J.D. The creature looked up at him, but made no threatening motion, gave no warning to stay back. It was like she knew that Ryan had come to help.
Ryan withdrew his weapon, smiled and said, “Hello.” He was about to introduce himself when Paul called up, nearly demanding to know why he hadn’t killed the thing. Ryan stood up and told him to shut up, that it appeared the creature wasn’t hostile and that J.D. may still be alive. Paul just muttered. Ryan turned his attention back to the girl creature.
“Where was I?” he addressed her. “Yes. My name… My name is Ryan. Ry-an. I’m a friend. Friend. Do you understand? J.D. is friend.”
Luci made a light noise in response to ‘J.D.’
“J.D. Yes, J.D.”
Luci made more noise.
“Yes, J.D. is friend. Like me… I need to see my friend. I need to see J.D. Okay? I need to come in, look at him,” Ryan told her as he gestured to the inside of the truck.
Ryan knew he was about to take a big risk. These creatures were known for unprovoked attacks, but this one seemed different, almost human. Nevertheless, he was also acutely aware that they were smart and it could just be a ploy. However, he could see no way of getting her out of the vehicle, and to try and shoot her could potentially cause J.D.’s death in the process, provided he was still living. So, Ryan had no choice but to go through the hatch to J.D.’s aid and hoped he wouldn’t be seized the moment he dropped his legs through the opening.
Paul warned him not to go, that he would end up like his commander, but Ryan refused to heed his words, and he slipped down into the vehicle as Paul was still talking away. There was a small platform about four feet into the vehicle. Ryan placed his feet on the metal stand and ducked down into the ICV. Luci had now backed away from J.D. and was hunched in the rear corner near the back exit, making light clacking sounds. Ryan spoke softly and gently to her, explaining what he was going to do. Ryan checked his pulse; it was weak but noticeable. J.D.’s shirt was soaked in blood and there was a large amount of blood spatter on his face, but it didn’t appear to be his. Ryan looked at the bandage, and though it was blood soaked, the blood flow appeared to have ceased. To the best of Ryan’s limited ability he surmised that he was just unconscious. After trying for several minutes to explain to the female creature what had to be done, he still had no idea if she understood the urgency for him to take J.D. back to armory. Instead Ryan crawled into the driver’s seat, radioed Paul it was time to go, and then proceeded to drive away.
It was noon when they finally arrived back at the armory. Ryan tried to coax Luci from the truck while Paul went to get the doctor and a stretcher, but Luci refused to leave his side. Paul warned the doctor of what they brought back, but the doctor refused to believe Paul’s fantastic tale. After all, he was more familiar with the transmutes than they were, and he knew that these creatures were incapable of such human emotions. Nevertheless when he set eyes upon her he knew that J.D. had been right, when J.D. had told him that he and Luci would be reunited at some future time.
“Oh, my God!” France exclaimed. “Luci.”
Luci’s reaction was less than cordial, it was menacing. She clacked and screeched, warning the doctor not to come near.
“You know her?” Ryan asked the doctor.
“Yes,” he responded hesitantly. “She was a… patient of mine, long ago.”
“Well you seemed to have made a great impression, doc. For all our sakes you better get back to the hospital. Paul and I will bring him up.”
Luci followed them into the armory, trailing slowly and cautiously behind, keeping a close eye on her injured mate. Paul was concerned and a bit frightened at the prospect of having this creature ‘stalking’ them into the armory. Ryan assu
red him that if this Luci wanted to have done them harm, she already had plenty of opportunities to do so. Ryan’s optimism did little to relieve Paul’s anxiety.
It was evident that Doctor France was not going to be allowed to examine J.D. and he gave them a stern order that it was in the best interest of everyone the creature be put down. Doctor France put up such an argument in necessitating the act that Ryan questioned him on his motive, and when the doctor refused to explain himself, Ryan told him in no uncertain terms that Luci was not going to be harmed in any manner. It was apparent to him that she and J.D. had some sort of mutual bond, and when asked about this, the doctor again refused to elaborate with the exception to stating that they had a history.
It was Ryan who gave J.D. the exam after the doctor explained what needed to be done and what needed to be recorded, and it was Ryan who eventually cleaned J.D.’s wound and changed his bandaging while the doctor was forced to stay on the other side of the room because Luci refused to leave J.D.’s side. As Ryan carefully wiped away the dried, crusted blood from his leg, Luci began to tap soundly on his back and make light noises. When he turned around Luci was gesturing up and down her body with a closed hand.
Ryan thought he understood her hand gesture. “Yes, Luci. I’m cleaning. I’m cleaning his wound.”
Ryan turned back around to attend to J.D.’s leg, but Luci still wanted his attention. She tapped on Ryan again, and when he turned around once again she again made the same motions. Ryan did not know what she wanted.
“I don’t understand. I don’t know what you mean.”
Luci raised her arms in the air and held out her long fingers. She fluttered them in the air as she lowered and raised her arms several times. She then stopped and looked at Ryan.
“I’m sorry, Luci. I… I don’t know.”
Luci abruptly ripped off her shirt and stood in front of Ryan naked, revealing not only her breasts but also her pregnancy. Ryan looked down at her stomach, but Luci wanted his attention. She tapped him again, and then picked up the small bowl of bloodied water Ryan had been using to wipe away J.D.’s dried blood, and then poured it over her head. She then again made the arm motions. He now understood. Luci wanted to be clean, too. She wanted a shower.
“Shower? You want a shower?”
Luci lightly pawed at Ryan’s shirt. It was a yes, she wanted a shower.
“Then take that infernal beast to the showers, Mr. Duncan,” France demanded. “It will give me opportunity to thoroughly and properly assess Mr. Nichol’s wound.
Ryan gestured for Luci to follow and she did.
10
The Lieutenant of Inwood
October 18, Day 193.
J.D.’s leg had nearly healed when he heard Paul’s voice over the intercom announcing someone had driven up to the 26th Street gate, and was calling out to be let in. J.D. was perplexed to the circumstances on how “Piss Pants” had gained his freedom and why he was in the comm room. However, it would have to wait. The timbre in Paul’s voice told him that the man was genuinely concerned over the arrival at the gate. J.D. quickly dressed and armed himself, and was too much in a hurry to greet Luci properly as he bolted from the door into the hallway where she sat on the floor patiently waiting for him. J.D. paused long enough to tell Luci to go inside his room and stay, and then hurried away down the stairs and out of sight. It would be many hours before J.D.’s return.
The man was dressed in an Army uniform and was holding a pistol.
J.D. and Ryan greeted the man with raised weapons and an order to lay down his firearm and kick it away. The commander then ordered the man to put his hands on top of his head, and place his back against the fencing and to tell anyone else in the vehicle to step out. Although the man assured him he was alone.
“State your business,” J.D. ordered.
“I’ve come to see Colonel Travis.”
“What for?” Ryan asked.
“I’m Lieutenant James Alexander of the 69th Infantry Regiment. He’s my commanding officer.”
“First Lieutenant James Alexander, Alpha Company?” J.D. inquired.
“Yes,” he confirmed, and then asked, “May I stand and present myself?”
“Granted,” J.D. confirmed, “but slowly. And keep your hands on top of your head.” When the soldier had turned around, J.D. asked, “Where the hell have you been soldier? Colonel Travis listed you as FTR, presumed dead.”
“I can explain,” he began, and then realized that the two men before him were not soldiers. J.D.’s mismatched uniform and age, and Ryan’s incorrect shoulder sleeve insignia alarmed James. “Wait, you’re not a Colonel. And he’s not of the 69th! What the hell is going on? Where’s Colonel Travis?”
“The Colonel is dead, along with everyone else. If you had been here you’d know that.”
“That still doesn’t explain who you are?”
“We can discuss that in my office, Lieutenant.”
Not having much of a choice with two guns aimed at him, James surrendered.
“You are to go with my lieutenant to see Doctor France for a physical, after which you will report directly to my office for a debriefing. And you better have a damn good reason why you just suddenly showed up. Is that understood, Lieutenant?”
“Affirmative,” James halfheartedly confirmed.
“Lieutenant Duncan, unlock the gate please,” J.D. instructed.
“Yes, sir,” Ryan replied quickly and respectfully, as if he were a real warfighter.
After picking up the man’s pistol, J.D. re-secured the gate; all along keeping a watchful eye on the Humvee. His keen vision saw no movement in the vehicle or in his visual plane of the surrounding area, not even a half-mute. He radioed to Paul it was clear and that they were returning.
J.D. was suspicious, especially at a soldier who had been listed as presumed dead showing up six months after the fact. Even if this man was truly Lieutenant Alexander, it didn’t mean he was not cooperating with others to gain access to the armory for their own reason.
***
J.D. knew much about the fall of the armory and how the brave men of Companies A and C had perished in their fight for survival. After all he found Colonel Walter A. Travis’ journal and operational reports. So, he knew that Lieutenant James Alexander along with six other soldiers never reported to the armory. However, J.D. also knew the lieutenant had been nearby. So why hadn’t he reported, why after all this time did he finally decided to make an appearance, and where had he been for all those months? That is what J.D. intended to find out.
***
“First Lieutenant James Alexander, 1st Battalion, 69th Infantry Regiment, A Company, DoD Identification Number 193726886,” he repeated for the third time to the suspicious “officer” who sat behind Commander Travis’ desk.
J.D. replied, “You want to repeat that a fourth time or would you rather sit down and discuss your miraculous appearance after six months?”
“No disrespect, Colonel, but I don’t believe you’re military. And I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”
“You doubt I am the commander of this base?”
“You may be commander but you’re sure the hell no colonel.”
“And I say this MPK-5 I have pointing at your crotch from under the desk out ranks you. So, at ease soldier and take that seat in front of you.”
Begrudgingly he complied.
J.D. tossed a small diary in front of the seated man, and then said, “You, Lieutenant, according to Commander Travis’ daily operational report dated 8 April, were reported in route to base at 1300 hours. However, you failed to report for duty, and now six months later here you are. That journal in front of you belonged to your late commander. It’s his personal account of what happened here. Open it. Open it to the first tab and read the passage to me.”
“What?” James responded, pretending not to understand J.D.’s
instructions.
“I want you to read the first marked passage to me aloud. Now pick up the book and read!”
James opened the book to the first tabbed section and read the passage aloud as instructed.
“April 8, 2014 - This morning at 1000 hours, Companies A and E were were called to active duty in regard to a potential biohazard threat. The threat turned out to be an infectious disease of unknown origin. Once again, the men under my command have been called upon to manage re-supply for food, drinking water, and health and comfort items to our troops on the eastside of the city, along with the armory being purposed as a secondary MEDCOM—designated FOB MEDCOM Bravo—because of our hospital facilities. Seven of my men, including my friend First Lieutenant James Alexander—who I spoke with at 1300 hours and had stated was on 23rd Street and 10th Avenue—have not reported for duty. I have been unable to contact any of them as of late this afternoon.”
The lieutenant didn’t seem to be fazed by the mention of his failure to report.
“Now read the next part where it’s marked,” J.D. ordered.
Again, James read aloud.
“I have been to war and have heard the screams and cries of the injured and dying. But what I have experienced today, of my men, my colleagues, my friends, being ripped apart in such a savage manner was horrifying, and frightens me more than any battlefield I ever fought on…
…There is now a continual flow of what my soldiers are calling zombies. Their corpses are now stacking up along the fence line. I do not know if these “zombies” are truly the living dead or not, but if they continue to grow in number, I fear bullets will not be able to stop them from breaching the fence.
A side note: James and the other six men who did not report to duty are unreachable. God protect them.”
Lieutenant James Alexander was clearly shaken by the second passage he was forced to read.
“Now you want to talk about obligation?” J.D. asked. “You had an obligation to report to duty, an obligation to fight alongside your fellow soldiers, an obligation to your friend Colonel Travis, but you let your team down, your commander down and now they’re all dead. Your desertion offends me—no it sickens me. You’re right; I’m not a colonel. But I am the leader of this base and I have an obligation to protect those within these walls. It is my responsibility to determine if you are friend or foe, and my decision alone on whether you get to live, join us, or walk out of here with food in your belly and a weapon in your hand. So, you either tell me what I need to know now or I’ll find some dark hole to lock you in until you’re ready to cooperate.”