Nasty Little F___ers-Kindle

by McAfee, David

  She stopped pacing and squared her shoulders, her face a mask of rage and grief. Before he could say anything else, she had the .45 in her hand and pointed it at his head. “This is your fault you mother fucker! You got us into this, now you are going to help him, damn it! Now!”

  Colby raised his hands above his head, thinking as fast as he could. Janice was obviously unstable, and he had no doubt she’d make good on her threat if he provoked her. But the fact was, there was nothing he could do for Edison. His eyes flicked to his rifle, which he’d dropped after he shot the mountain lion. It lay among the leaves and twigs some fifteen feet away. He’d never make it. Janice was only about ten feet away and unless she was a very bad shot, she could squeeze a round or two into him before he got five feet. Besides, what if he did manage to get to the rifle without getting shot? Then what? You going to shoot her, soldier? Not a fucking chance. He’d let her empty the entire clip into his chest before he’d hurt her.

  He sighed. Trying to buy some time. “OK,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She nodded, choking back a sob.

  Colby turned back to Edison, but the scientist was already dead. His one good eye was already beginning to cloud over, and a small fly lighted on it and took an appraising step. Probably looking for a place to lay its eggs. Fuck. First Jared, then Harper, Bock, Steinman, probably Moretz and Allen, and now Edison, too. At least five dead, with two missing. Another failure on Colby’s part. Some protection he’d turned out to be. He hung his head, trying and failing to keep the memories of Kuwait from resurfacing. He’d failed. Again. What good was he?

  Colby reached up, shooed the fly away, and closed Edison’s remaining eye. “Sorry, Edison,” he whispered, shaking his head.

  “No, you don’t!” Janice shrieked. “Oh, no you fucking don’t!”

  Colby whirled to face her and found himself staring straight down the barrel of his own pistol. Janice had taken a few steps closer and now stood a mere five feet away, her trembling hands locked around the gun so tight her knuckles shone white against the black metal grip. “Oh, no you fucking don’t,” she said again, the whites of her eyes clearly visible around the deep blue irises. “Help him, you bastard.”

  “He’s dead, Janice,” Colby whispered. “There’s nothing I can do for him.”

  “Fuck you! Fuck you, he’s dead! This is your fault.” She thumbed back the hammer.

  Colby dove to the side just as the shot rang out. A jet of dirt and earth exploded from the spot he’d been squatting in only a heartbeat before. One second too slow and he’d be laying in the dirt next to Edison.

  He rolled to his feet and squared off against Janice, not wanting to give her a second chance. But she had apparently misjudged the amount of kick that comes with a .45, and now sat in the dirt and loam of the forest floor looking a bit dazed. A reddish mark on her forehead told him what happened. The gun had kicked back and hit her square in the face, knocking her to the ground and dazing her. He’d seen it before at the firing range when people fired such a big gun without properly bracing their arms first. That had to hurt.

  But it wouldn’t last long. He dove for her and knocked her to the ground. The pistol flew from her hand, but he couldn’t watch it as it sailed into the trees. He landed on top of her and held her shoulders down while she screamed, kicked and bit at him. She thrashed underneath him with such violent force that once or twice he lost his balance and had to readjust in order to keep her pinned. He let her hit him and kick him, knowing she needed this. She needed to get rid of this pain and fury, and right now he was her only means of doing so. It hurt like hell, but it was the only thing he could do for her. Even amidst the blows, the idea came to him that the bruises she left would be with him longer than she would.

  Soon her fits turned into sobs, and she stopped struggling. Colby waited a minute or so to make sure it was genuine, and then he climbed off her and sat next to her in the dirt. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, whispering any empty platitudes that came to mind. It didn’t matter what he said, anyway. What really mattered was his tone. Janice was terrified, and she needed to let some of it out. She leaned against him and sobbed into his shirt for five minutes or so, and he stroked her hair and continued to whisper to her.

  Finally, when her body stopped wracking with sobs and the tears slowed, she pushed off him and wiped the side of her face with her sleeve. She regarded him with red, puffy eyes and a nose that would have made Rudolph the Reindeer proud. He reached over to move a strand of her matted brown hair away from her face and she slapped his hand away.

  “You’re an asshole,” she said.

  Colby nodded. “I get that a lot.”

  Janice stood and left the group of trees, leaving Colby sitting in the dirt, alone with a dead scientist and a headless mountain lion. He shook his head, wondering just how the hell he’d let so many members of his team die. Now there was only him and Janice, and she was so mad she probably wouldn’t speak to him to tell him he was on fire. His own eyes began to water, and he frowned and wiped them dry with his sleeve, using a little more force than necessary.

  Colby looked at the body of Edison one last time. Just one left. One last person to protect. He saw a small measure of redemption hanging there, some small piece of this mess he could still salvage. By God, he’d keep at least one member of this fucking expedition safe, even if he had to die doing it.

  He stood and walked over to his rifle. Once he had it slung over his shoulder, he started checking the brush around the small group of trees for his missing Desert Eagle. The pistol had become especially important since he only had three rounds left in the AR 15. He pawed through the long grass and the brush hoping to catch a glint of steel, but after several minutes spent searching, the gun remained hidden.

  Colby stood up, brushed the dirt and leaves from his pants, and checked the path Janice had taken. He couldn’t see her anymore. Would she stop and wait for him to find the pistol? Or would she ignore his absence and keep walking? Most likely she’d keep walking. In her current state of mind, she’d be distracted and inattentive to her surroundings, an easy target for any other predators in the area. He couldn’t waste any more time, he had to go after her.

  He left the area, walking after Janice, never imagining how soon he would come to regret that decision.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Moretz and Allen examined the bodies, while Bock rotted quietly away on the edge of the cluster of trees. Edison’s face and torso were shredded, but that wouldn’t matter much to the grubs. Edison’s corpse was still warm and it had plenty of flesh on it, and that’s all the grubs need to take over. What Moretz wanted to know was if they could use the cat, too. Granted, the cat’s teeth were gone, along with most of its head, but the lethal claws could still do plenty of damage.

  “They need the complex neural pathways that exist only in humans and higher primates,” Allen said, seeming to read his thoughts. “They might be able to reanimate a gorilla, orangutan, or even a chimp, but not a cat. Just not enough intelligence.”

  Moretz nodded. It made sense, or else the grubs could take over anything and everything, and wouldn’t need people for hosts.

  While the three of them watched (although to be honest Bock was not watching much of anything as both his eyes were now gone) a cloud of huge flies descended, one by one, into the small group of trees where the two bodies lay.

  Each fly was about three inches long, and hundreds of them buzzed down to the corpses. Moretz had never seen anything like it. The noise was deafening. The flies alighted on Edison’s dead, cooling flesh, and used tiny hooks on their forelegs to dig into the skin. Once they excavated a big enough hole, they turned around and squatted their abdomens over it. Each fly pushed out a clutch of ivory-colored eggs, which were about half the size of a grain of rice. After laying its deposit into the skin, the flies buzzed wildly for a few seconds and then fell to the ground, quite dead.

  Moretz waited, breathless. Though
he knew what was coming, he had yet to witness it. Allen had raised Bock and Steinman before Moretz got his grub, and so he missed watching the dead men rise. But this time he would actually get to see it. His breath caught in his throat as he waited.

  Edison lay still for several minutes, but then his skin started to move, bubbling and writhing as though something moved just beneath the surface. Then a tiny head popped from the crook of his left arm, the flesh made a light tearing sound as it gave way to the little grub’s jaws. A few seconds later a second grub broke through Edison’s skin, then a third. Soon there were more, and before long Edison’s body crawled with the tiny things, each still about the size of a grain of rice.

  As Moretz watched, the fingers on Edison’s right hand began to twitch, and his remaining eye opened. He sat up, shaking his head and staring at the three men standing around him. A tiny grub poked out from the skin of his cheek and was soon joined by several of its brethren. Together they started to devour the left side of Edison’s face.

  “Uh,” Edison said. When he opened his mouth, Moretz saw grubs wriggling and chewing on his tongue. It wouldn’t be long until the tiny things were several inches long, and would start to feed on each other as well as their host. By that time Edison’s flesh would be mostly gone, but for now there was plenty for all.

  Edison stood up and fixed his one good eye on Bock. “Och?” he said, the grubs interfering with his speech. “Och?”

  Bock nodded, and several grubs fell from his chin. Now Moretz could see the bone of Bock’s lower mandible. He didn’t have much longer until he would be finished, also. An hour, maybe. Perhaps two. If they were going to catch up with Sarge and kill him before Bock became completely useless, they would have to do it soon.

  “Come on,” he said to the group. “Let’s go get them.”

  He turned to follow the direction Sarge and Janice had taken through the woods and caught a glimpse of Allen’s face. Moretz couldn’t imagine why, but the entomologist did not look pleased. In fact, Moretz thought, he looks pissed. He tried to figure out why, but the only thing that came to mind was Janice. Allen must want her for himself.

  Fuck! Moretz couldn’t do much about it now, not when time was of the essence, especially since he needed all the extra bodies he could get. After they killed Sarge and got Janice over to their side, then he could kill Allen, but not before. Hell, with any luck, Sarge might do it for him. At least then the idiot would prove useful for something. He frowned, turned his back on Allen, and stepped through the brush.

  Several yards into the undergrowth his right foot came down on something hard and unforgiving. Much too solid to be a tree root or a branch. He lifted his foot and looked underneath. What he saw brought an even wider smile to his lips. Fuck Allen; whatever his problem is. Fuck Sarge, Bock, and Edison, too. Moretz had just been catapulted to the top of the food chain.

  He reached down and picked up the shiny black .45. He pulled out the clip. It still had seven rounds in it. Perfect. He’d only need one bullet to kill Sarge.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Colby caught up with Janice and walked a few paces behind her, not wanting to disturb her until she had calmed down. Up ahead, her shoulders bobbed and every now and then he caught the muffled sound of crying, though she did her best to hide it. Sometimes he saw her wipe at her face with her shirtsleeve.

  He wanted to say something to make her feel better, but he didn’t think he could find the words. He was a soldier, not a writer. They don’t teach you to wax poetic in the military. Even after eighteen years, he sometimes felt completely unprepared for civilian life. This was one of those times.

  To him, death was just death. He’d spent years in its presence, getting to know it, watching as it came to take his friends and subordinates. Now it didn’t affect him the same as everyone else. Rather than remind him of his own mortality, the thought of death just brought back unwanted memories of his last fateful command. If his time in the Marines taught him anything, it was that life is a capricious and fleeting thing. Death comes for everyone. One day he, too, would be gone. It really was as simple as that.

  But not for her. And not for most other people, either. To them death was something to evade, something to avoid thinking about at all costs. In Colby’s opinion, such thinking only made it that much harder to deal with it when it did come. But then, what the fuck did he know?

  The only deaths he cared about were those of the people who were, until two days ago, supposedly under his protection. That did bother him. Not that they were dead, but that he’d failed to keep them safe. His men. His charges. Gone, because he was not able to prevent it. He shook his head; it was like Desert Storm all over again. His release papers said Honorable, but he knew the truth. As a soldier, he was washed up. Useless. Every bit as effective as a wet napkin, so they let him go.

  He’d spent seven years going from one therapist to another, trying to put his grief someplace manageable. At first, the Marines paid for the shrinks, but it didn’t take long before they got tired of footing the bills and cut him loose financially, as well. For the last few years, he’d been on his own, learning to cope. He’d finally been able to function again, and even found work here and there as a guide or guardian. Then Anzer had come along with a job offer and put him in charge of leading a group to safety, and once again he’d failed miserably.

  Of course, all of this could have been avoided with a simple fucking sat phone. Colby growled under his breath. That asshole Anzer! He’d be sorry he didn’t pony up the money, Colby would make sure of it. He might not be able to protect anyone, but he was still pretty damn good at hurting them. All he needed was a cell phone signal and they could get out of there and he could fix Anzer’s ass, but good.

  He looked around him at the forest. Cursing under his breath. They might be able to get a signal out here if all these damn trees weren’t in the way. Maples, Birches, Oaks, Pines, Poplars, even some he couldn’t recognize, all blocked his view and any strong signal he could send out. It was as if…

  He stopped, staring at the trunk of a nearby pine. He craned his head to see how high the trunk went, and calculated it to be around a hundred-fifty to a hundred-seventy five feet tall, maybe more. Plenty tall enough. His jaw fell open as he considered the possibilities, and he swore at himself for not thinking of this sooner.

  “Fuck me,” he said, and slapped himself on the forehead so hard he almost lost his balance. “Trees! God damn it! The fucking trees!”

  Janice stopped and turned to regard him, her red, swollen eyes full of questions. “What is it?” she asked.

  Colby just shook his head; unable to believe it had taken him so long to think of it. Talk about not seeing the forest through the trees! What an idiot. He pointed to the nearest trunk. “We might be able to get a signal if one of us climbs up to the topmost branches and turns on their cell phone.”

  Janice’s jaw dropped. Apparently she’d never considered it, either. “How the hell did we miss that?”

  “I don’t know,” Colby answered. Come to think of it, Edison should have thought of it, too. It just proved how rattled everyone was. Well, he thought, seeing your buddies eaten alive by freaky grubs, shot, and killed by mountain lions can do that to a person.

  They both stared at each other for a minute, Colby shaking his head. Stupid! He could have saved several lives if he’d thought of this sooner. Fuck!

  He forced himself to calm down. There really was no telling if this would work, anyway. There was a good chance it might not. And if it did work out here, he still had no way to know if it would have worked back at camp. In all probability, it might have changed nothing. But still… it could have.

  “Shit,” he said aloud.

  “So who’s going to climb the tree?” Janice asked. “I’m lighter, maybe it should be me.”

  Colby shook his head. “I’ll go. I’m responsible for all of you. It’s my job.”

  She nodded. He got the feeling she really didn’t want to go up there,
anyway. No matter. Like he said, it was his job, and he’d do it. He slipped the rifle off his shoulder and handed it to her. Then he took off his backpack, removed his belt and the knife on his hip, and let the canteen drop to the ground. He didn’t want to take anything up that could catch on a branch.

  He shoved his cell phone in his pocket after making sure it still had enough juice to make a call. Three bars. Good. They’d been traveling with the phones turned off to conserve power, checking them every now and then by turning them back on for a few seconds to look for a signal.

  He looked up and saw Janice sighting down the rifle’s barrel. There was no scope, but she squinted her right eye shut and sighted along the notch.

  “You know how to use that, right?” he asked, suddenly uneasy about leaving her alone, even with a gun.

  She nodded. “Point it and pull the trigger, right?”

  “And the safety?”

  “Right here.” Janice pointed to the tiny red lever.

  “Good enough,” he replied. There was more to it, but with the closeness of the trees he didn’t need to talk about wind interference or distance shooting. Besides, anything she’d be shooting at couldn’t be more than ten, maybe fifteen yards away, anyway. Should be a fairly easy shot, even for an amateur.

  “OK,” he said. “I’m going up.”

  Janice stood and put her back against the tree, probably feeling more secure with something solid at her back. Colby took one last look at her, fought down his feeling of apprehension, and grabbed hold of a low hanging branch and used it to haul himself up.

  From that first branch, he looked down at Janice one more time. “If you need me, call me.” He said. He pulled the two-way radio from his pocket and clicked it on. “Channel eleven.”

  Janice pulled her own radio out, turned it on, and set it to channel eleven, as well. “Eleven,” she said. “Got it. Go, already. Get us out of here.”