Zombie Fallout (Book 13): The Perfect Betrayal

by Tufo, Mark

“Sir?” Sergeant Winters asked as I cut through his yard. He was staring at me through his window, a cup of something steaming in his hand. Bennington had given my entire squad base-housing as opposed to living in the apartment complex, and on top of that, they were all close together. Right now I was happy about that, partly because I could travel through friendly territory to get to where I was going and, secondly, I was beginning to realize just how cool out it was, especially since the mist was starting to soak through the limited amount of clothing I had donned. I was glad I didn’t have to cross the compound. I gave Winters a quick raise of my hand as I hurried past.

  I knocked on BT’s door. Well, more like pounded on, but that’s semantics, I think—not entirely sure if the word applies to actions. My sister answered. I was taken aback; she wasn’t dressed much better than me as she pulled a robe over her shoulders and belted it shut.

  “Mike? Everything alright?” She had to ask that, otherwise why the fuck was I out in boxers and a Widespread Panic t-shirt that had seen better days nearly a decade ago. The sneakers without socks wrapped up the entire package.

  “BT here?” I asked, looking past her.

  “Good to see you too. Come on in.”

  A huge part of me genuinely wished I had used the inter-base communication system and called first. BT was at the stove, cooking breakfast. I was staring straight at his completely exposed backside—well, I mean, except for the string of the apron that was straining to hold on. He turned, spatula in hand. I could not avert my gaze quickly enough. His barrel chest stood out proudly, as did the protrusion at the bottom of the apron. The material was far too small for a man of his massive stature.

  “Fuck me.” I was shielding my eyes with my hand. “Can you go put some clothes on for fuck’s sake?”

  “I could say the same for you. And no, it’s early, and I’m off for the day. There’s something extremely liberating about making pancakes in the nude. Lucky for you I’m making bacon or I wouldn’t have even bothered with this,” he said as he pulled on the corner of his smock.

  I still hadn’t looked up. “Trip’s alive.” I wanted to get out what I had to say as quickly as possible and retreat to a safer area, namely, my home. My sister tossed me a towel, which I was grateful for as I wiped myself down.

  BT stopped everything he was doing. “You had the haunted house dream too?” He paled quickly.

  “Haunted house dream? What are you two talking about?” Lyndsey asked.

  “I did,” I answered.

  “Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything.” But he didn’t turn his pancakes, which were beginning to smoke.

  “Want me to do that?” Lyndsey had gone up to him.

  “What? No,” he told her as she took the cooking utensil away from him. “Now what?” he asked as he walked to the juncture between the kitchen and the living room, which I was standing in. Not ten seconds later, my sister started cussing. “She’s messing up my breakfast, Mike.”

  “I know, man.”

  “All she had to do was flip the pancake.”

  “I know,” I sympathized.

  “So, say for the sake of argument that strange-ass dream you dragged me into has some validity. How do we go about finding the man?”

  “Trip seemed to think we’d run into him at some point.”

  BT eyed me warily. “Come on,” he relented. “We finally got some downtime and you want to request to go back out? Why? He knows we’re at Etna. Let him come.”

  “You know it’s not that easy. Otherwise, he’d have just shown up. We’d be walking along one day at the park and he’d be sitting under a tree smoking a joint saying how we looked familiar or something.”

  “Probably have a ring of snack bags around him.” BT had a smile.

  “SHIT!” shot out from the kitchen.

  “Everything all right, honey?” BT asked from the couch.

  “Dropped a pancake. It’s fine. Shit!” she said again.

  “How do you drop a pancake?” he whispered.

  “Dammit,” she swore.

  “I’ve got to go help her, or there will be nothing left. You do whatever you think you need to do to get us out there. You know I have your back.”

  “Thanks, man, and normally I would have yours. Just…not right now,” I said to his retreating, unclothed backside.

  “You know you like what you see.” He smacked his ass hard as he headed into the kitchen.

  “Never going to unsee that.” I was heading for the front door. I could hear BT comforting Lyndsey.

  “It’s okay, babe; pancakes are difficult, even for chefs.”

  As I headed home, Winters was still looking out his window, his hand on the screen as if waiting for me to come back by.

  “We heading back out?” he asked astutely.

  “I have intel that Trip and some of those with him might still be alive and in need of our help.”

  “Normal channels of intel or Trip channels?” Winters asked. I didn’t bother with an answer. He’d figure it out soon enough.

  “Just let me know; I’ll be ready when you need me to be.”

  Got home, dried off again and put on some more traditional garb for the elements and then went to Tracy’s school to let her know. If I got my way with Bennington, I was going to be out the gate long before lunch.

  “Aren’t you on leave?” Colonel Bennington asked. He looked tired and sighed when he saw me.

  “I am,” I told him.

  “You normally wear your BDUs?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Can we get to why you’re here then? I have a meeting with the Civilian Board; they’re driving me crazy. That Deneaux…she merits a close watching. Pretty sure she wants my job.”

  “Nothing pretty about it, sir.”

  “That’s right; you would know about her. I have you to thank for that.”

  “My small gift to you, sir.”

  “Spill it, Lieutenant. I can about see the itch you want to scratch.”

  “Some of this I’ll need you to take with a grain of salt.”

  “Would it be too much for me to ask you for a cup of coffee before you begin?”

  He had downed nearly the entire beverage by the time I wrapped up my semi-mystical recounting of how I knew one of my people was still out there and needed help.

  “So, you want me to risk the limited supplies and personnel we have here on an ill-conceived rescue mission based on a dream?” His tone did not invade the incredulousness of his words. I think on some level he wanted to believe me; it was my job to convince him.

  “Sir, I know it’s not the preferred method of intel gathering, but Trip, well, he’s unique in his abilities.”

  “You’re saying he’s a dream walker?”

  “Will that give me the permission I need to go look for him?”

  “Are you sure this isn’t just your subconscious overlapping what you want to be true? We’ve all lost people out there, Talbot, and we’ve all dreamed about them during better times…and worse, unfortunately,” he added as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “If this doesn’t make matters even more confusing, sir, my gunny, BT, had the same dream.”

  Bennington peered at me, maybe trying to decipher whether this was some elaborate ruse.

  “As for Trip, honestly, sir, I don’t know what he is.” I thought carefully on my next words, and in the end I figured it would be better to be truthful than not. Bennington could sniff out lies before you uttered them. “He uses more drugs than clinical studies, he seems clueless at every turn, but I’ve never met a person with more uncanny ability to sidestep danger, and what’s even more strange is he seems completely oblivious to what’s about to happen but still manages to come through completely unscathed. I’ve known him since nearly the beginning; he saved my ass a couple of times. I feel like I owe him.”

  He sighed again. “According to you, Lieutenant, you don’t even know where to begin searching. He told you he was coming west, but it would be hard to e
ven call that a minimal direction.”

  “Non-existent would be better, sir.”

  “And still you want to try?”

  “I know Trip. Once we get out there, it will happen.”

  “Are you going to be the one to tell your squad they’re being activated early, or do you want me to play the role of villain?”

  “I’m going to ask for volunteers for this mission,” I told him.

  “So, basically, your entire squad is going.”

  “I would think so, sir.”

  “Private Halsey? Are you going to fill his position?”

  “I don’t think they’re ready for that just yet.”

  “And what about your Private Harmon? My understanding is she’s still a little shell-shocked. I’d offer her a desk job in my office, but your people are so fiercely loyal to you I think she’d tell me to stuff it.”

  That was a sticky widget for me. I tended to make rounds to my entire squad each day, see how they were doing. Most were fine, but every day when I would knock on her bedroom door, Harmon’s unkempt appearance led me to believe she seldom left the room she shared in the large house with a few of the others. The dark circles and redness to her eyes let me know that more times than not she had been crying. She was working through it; I made sure that she continually had someone to talk to, but she was in no shape to go back out into the field, now, or possibly ever. The risks were too great for her and the rest of the squad, but there could be no way I’d leave her behind without her knowing. Still, that vote of no-confidence would follow her around, if only in her mind, for a good long while.

  “Maybe order her, sir. I don’t think she’s ready to head back out.”

  “Don’t like it, Talbot. A reduced squad going to who knows where, getting into who knows what. That is a lot of unknowns.”

  “Still better than some of the military intelligence I’ve got in the field.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. “If only that weren’t true. Three days, Lieutenant. That’s it. That’s all I’m authorizing. And I don’t want your ass calling in and saying you need more time. Seventy-two hours—say it.”

  “Seventy-two. Yes, sir.”

  “Starting now.” He glanced at his desk clock. “You be back on this base with or without him in that time frame or so help me, I will think of new and unusual punishments, not just for you, but your entire squad. Am I clear?”

  “Relatively, sir.”

  “Get your ass out of here. Go and get your friend and those he’s with. I will want a full report upon your return, and bring the hippie in with you.”

  “You remember that order when I do, sir.” I smiled as I turned and left his office.

  2

  Mike Journal Entry 2

  “The gang’s all here!” PFC Kirby said, looking around as we loaded up our gear into the three Hummers the colonel had been kind enough to let me use. “Wait, where’s Harmon?”

  “She’s sitting this one out,” I told him.

  “Oh, that’s no good,” he said solemnly. “Without her here, I’m the lowest ranking.”

  Grimm and Springer were both PFCs as well, but had achieved the rank a week before him, which, by default, did make Kirby the low man on the totem pole.

  “You tell me that it’s time to clean our weapons and I’ll know something’s up,” he said in all seriousness. He was referring to an outdated training manual having to deal with assessing the threat of a biological or chemical danger. If in doubt, you were to get the lowest ranking personnel to begin the process of breaking down their weapons for cleaning and while they were doing that, the commanding officer was supposed to pick the lowest ranking individual among them to remove their protective gear. If they died a horrible death, it was safe to assume that it was not alright for the rest of the group to remove their equipment. The Marine Corps had never bothered with political correctness.

  “Better yet, just leave your rifle with me.” BT reached out with his hand.

  “Har har Gunny,” Kirby said as he was about to climb into the Hummer. “Wait, he’s not serious, is he?” he asked, looking over to me.

  “Not yet,” I told him before going to get in the lead Hummer.

  I had Gary, aka Sergeant Gambo, driving the middle Hummer and Winters driving the last one. Tommy I wanted with me. BT took up nearly the entire backseat.

  “Now what?” Tommy asked. We were a couple of miles outside the gate at our first true junction. We could continue south or east.

  “East, until we get word differently,” I said as I scribbled in my journal.

  “Yeah, Mr. T, but do you want 90 East or 84 East?” he asked.

  I pondered on the route but did my best not to overthink it; I went with what popped into my head first. “Eighty-four.” I went back to what I was doing.

  “Exactly what kind of word are you expecting to get?” BT was leaning forward and simultaneously looking over my shoulder. I did my best to cover up. “Did I just see my name?” Now he was like a dog with a bone; he was not going to let it go. He was reaching for it, and I was doing my best to keep it away from him. It was not going so well, considering BT could rip my seat right from its moorings, if he desired.

  He read it for a couple of minutes before finally handing it back. “Those were nice words you wrote about me.” Then he sat back. “Good thing, too. Thought I might have to hurt you.” I noted the big man was staring through his window in an effort to keep me from seeing the water that had welled up in his eyes.

  I got a lot of writing done as BT had fallen asleep, and there wasn’t much else to do or watch out for. After two hours on the road, I was questioning the necessity and the dismal success probability of this venture. “Ten more minutes driving, Tommy, then I want you to find a decent place to pull over. We’ll discuss what we’re going to do from there.”

  I had zoned out and wasn’t even aware that much time had passed until Tommy pulled into a scenic overlook. Unfortunately, with the fog, there wasn’t much to gander at. “Ten minutes,” he said.

  “About time, sir!” Corporal Stenzel yelled at me as she hopped out of the Hummer she was in and headed for a more secluded area.

  “Pair up before you all start heading your separate ways!” I told them. Corporal Rose jogged off with Stenzel; the men went over to the small border and began to water the rocks en masse. BT finally extracted himself; he stretched and yawned loudly.

  “Glad you could join us,” I told him, received the finger that, by now, was almost involuntary on his part, just reflexive.

  “What are we doing?”

  “I’m debating on turning the whole caravan around. Last night and this morning this seemed like exactly what I needed to do, but now that we’re out here I don’t have a clue as to how we’re going to find him.

  “Grow a marijuana plant and he’ll come.”

  I laughed because it was true. “Should have maybe brought one with me.”

  “Even better.” BT was walking away. “Gonna check on the kids.” He was referring to the squad. “Alright, tuck your stuff away! Any more than three shakes and you’re playing with it!”

  “I don’t think that applies to us,” Corporal Stenzel said as she came from behind a row of concrete road dividers used to prevent sleepy travelers from driving off the side of the parking lot and down the significant embankment.

  “Oh look—he’s blushing!” Corporal Rose smacked the shoulder of the other woman.

  BT thundered off. It was amusing to see him take out his embarrassment on the others. He had Kirby and Grimm doing push-ups.

  “What did we do?” Grimm asked.

  “You exist,” was BT’s terse reply.

  “How many?” Kirby had assumed the position.

  “You’ll do them until I’m tired!” he shouted. While the two were paying an undeserved penance, BT was walking around. He stopped for a moment and was looking in a trash barrel. “Mike, you’re going to want to come over here.” He motioned to the PFCs with his finger. “You
two turds get the hell out of here!”

  “Aye, Gunny.” Grimm and Kirby left quickly, making sure they were nowhere in the vicinity when BT just arbitrarily began to dole out punishment again.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I got closer.

  “Look.” BT was pointing, but made no move to get closer.

  The look on his face had me convinced that I in no way wanted to see what he was looking at. “Is it a head?” I was having flashbacks to the movie Seven.

  “What? No,” he said when he realized the why for my question. “Just look.”

  I moved away from BT just in case he had designs on picking me up and thrusting me headfirst into the receptacle. I didn’t truly think that he would; we had some military decorum built up between us, but I wasn’t going to take anything for granted. I peeked my head in real quick and pulled back.

  “Shit, Talbot. It’s not going to explode.”

  “Maybe you should just tell me. Then I wouldn’t have to be paranoid.”

  “For fuck’s sake.” BT quickly moved in and pulled a cellophane wrapper out.

  “Corn snacks,” I said as I gazed upon the familiar red and tan bag. “Which kind are they?” I asked as I was looking at the back.

  “With a ph.”

  We continued on.

  As the sun went down, I had Tommy drive up an off-ramp and stop on an overpass; this way we could get a great view of anything coming for miles. Got the Hummers refueled with the cans we had. I looked out upon the skyline, debating. Any clues were going to be scant, and the chances of seeing them in the dark were even more so. That, and headlights could attract all sorts of unwanted attention.

  “Kirby, Grimm, set up the ZADAR. Corporal Stenzel, get a guard rotation and put me in there.”

  “You sure, sir?”

  “We’re already two people down. I’ll do my fair share.”

  “Any preference, sir?”

  “Make sure to give the gunny the first shift; he gets super cranky if his sleep is disturbed, and I’m the one riding with him. Keep the drivers off…I want them well-rested in case we run into any trouble. Two people: one watching the ZAD, the other our perimeter.”