Zombie Fallout (Book 13): The Perfect Betrayal

by Tufo, Mark

  “Where would they be going?” I asked the major.

  “That would be classified information,” she replied. I suddenly had regrets about sharing anything with her, the payout on my end had been much less than I figured. “Good thing I know the answer.” To say I was relieved was an understatement. “Come on inside. You smell like you could use some coffee, and I just happen to have a map of the base.”

  “And what are we going to do about it?” BT asked after we’d gone over the map. We were back in the major’s yard. Bruno was now content to ignore us, or maybe not, as he made a great show of destroying a bone larger than my leg. I think he was shooting for intimidation. He certainly had my attention.

  “Wonder where the rest of the cow is?” I asked aloud.

  “Attention span of a fucking fruit fly,” BT mumbled.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Ever see those little suckers when they find food? Can’t get them away from it.”

  “Thank you, Major,” BT said as our host set down a pitcher of iced tea at the small table we were sitting at.

  “Tabitha, please. I’m Major all day long; no one ever calls me by my name any more.”

  “No mister Dylan?” I asked.

  “How can you be devoid of every social grace?” BT asked. “Sorry, ma’am. My friend here was raised by honey badgers.”

  “No, there’s no Mr. Dylan. My partner, she worked at the hospital with me. She was…down in the emergency room when the initial wave hit. I was on the third floor consulting with the parents of a three-year-old that needed surgery. I…heard the commotion.” She paused, collecting herself. “I tried to get down there to see what was going on—to help in any way that I could. Four policemen pushed us all back; they were holding the horde at bay. They…sacrificed themselves for us. Even with their selfless act, I hated them for a while. They’d prevented me from getting down those stairs, but to do what?” She looked up at us. “I know now I wouldn’t have been able to do anything, but I could have, at least, joined her.” She looked away.

  “It’s always hardest on those left behind. We have these grandiose ideas of what happens to those who pass; they’re living the dream and we’re left to struggle with the bleak and destroyed aftermath. Hardly seems fair,” I said.

  “And then when all seems lost, you say stuff like that.”

  Tabitha laughed at BT’s words. “I miss her so much, but living—that was the right thing to do. I’ve helped so many since that Etna team rescued me and some of my co-workers. I knew I could make a difference here and eagerly joined. It’s been mostly good, although, lately, I don’t know…there’s been a shift, a more militaristic vibe. I used to think the colonel had created this haven as a way to ensure the survival of civilians, a safe place for them to come to live as normal a life as possible, I mean, given the circumstances. But lately, this appears to becoming more of a military base. Lots of clandestine things happening, special teams, just like yours, coming and going.”

  I gave a glance to BT.

  “Safe to say you both see that as well,” she said, acknowledging she’d noticed.

  “I agree; we don’t agree with everything the colonel is doing. There are good reasons, though.”

  “Such as?” she prompted.

  “Talbot,” BT warned.

  “Major…Tabitha, I’ve already said much more than I should have. If you have questions, I think you should bring them up with the Old Man himself. Hell, you’re a major; I’m just walking around with this butter bar.”

  “Funny, don’t you think? I mean, yes, I’m a major and you’re a 2nd Lieutenant, yet you have much more information of the workings of this base than I do.”

  “That’s due to the nature of our jobs, I would imagine, not so much an indication of rank,” I said in hopes to appease her. “I mean, we’re out there doing what the colonel asks; how could we not know, or at least infer?”

  “Do you believe we only have three years left?” she asked.

  Must have been a pretty good look of shock on my face. I looked over to BT. “I didn’t say that, right?”

  “Don’t you think you’d remember?” he asked.

  “I mean I’d like to think I would, but sometimes…I don’t know.”

  “Yup, that’s my commanding officer.” BT was talking to Tabitha.

  “Remember when I said the patient rooms are like confessionals? I’m also fairly certain there’s a nuclear bomb on this base, but I’ve not been able to verify that. The man who told me was being sedated for surgery. I’d ask you if that’s true, but the way both of you just clammed up, I think I’ve got all the answer I need.”

  “I’m not a fan of perceptive people,” I told BT.

  “Anybody with the ability to see or hear knows what’s going on in that head of yours. You wouldn’t last fifteen minutes at a kid’s poker tournament. Now, I’m not saying they’d understand, because that’s just not within normal human parameters, but yeah, they’d know.”

  “This kids’ poker tournament; is that a thing? I’d so take all their allowances.”

  “I took some psychology classes; I had thought about getting my medical degree in the field of Psychiatry.”

  “Got your case study right here, doc.” BT was pointing at me.

  “What I’m getting at,” she said, “is I can easily spot it when someone does not wish to tell me something.”

  “Oooh, she’s good,” BT said.

  “Not ten seconds ago you said I was as easy to read as a billboard.”

  “Not my exact words, but good analogy. And I just like having someone agree with me, especially when you’re the target.”

  “What are you going to do with the information you have?” I asked.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Go ahead then,” I said.

  “And you’ll tell me?”

  “Apparently.” I was looking over to BT. “I’d be careful, though, because then you’ll be complicit.”

  “Complicit to what?” BT asked with alarm.

  I was thinking. “Can’t really be treason because she doesn’t work for the other side.” Reasoning out my words. “You’re not a spy for the zombies, are you?” I asked her, making sure to cover all my bases.

  “You’re kidding right now,” she said as a statement, though she had a questioning gaze as she watched BT and I exchange a glance. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Different story. I’ll dig up one of my old journals for you.”

  “You’re a doctor; you should be able to read his chicken scratch,” BT said.

  I stared longer.

  “You’re serious? You want me to answer that question?” Major Dylan asked.

  “I’m not and I am. Now that our guest down there can communicate with people, how long do you think it’s going to be before deals are struck to ensure one’s safety or the safety of their family?”

  “Never even thought of that,” BT said. “Another nightmare lurking there, just waiting to reveal itself in the light of day.”

  I tapped the side of my head. “That’s why I’m the leader.”

  “Bullshit. Being overly paranoid about every possible shitty outcome doesn’t qualify you to lead people. Nope, scratch that. It makes you the perfect one.”

  We fist bumped. I waited, as the major had not yet said anything.

  “I’ll confess; I can’t believe that question necessitates an answer.”

  “Thank you for the use of your lawn,” I told her as I stood from the table.

  “Mike, you know she’s not a spy. Why are you being an ass?” BT asked discreetly as we headed for the door.

  “I’m trying to keep her out of this. I’m hoping my insinuations insult her well enough that she feels it would be undignified to explain herself.”

  “Don’t go getting smart on me. Thank you for your time.” BT waved to what I would imagine was a very stunned major.

  “Bruno, fetch,” she said.

  “Oh, oh.” I made for
the door but was effectively cut off.

  Bruno made a great show of yawning; we got a firsthand look at a frightening display of teeth.

  “I’m listening,” I said, yet I did not turn my back on the dog.

  “I am not, nor have I ever been, an agent of the enemy.”

  “Duly noted,” I told her.

  “This isn’t elementary school, Lieutenant. I’m not going to run to the principal if you tell me something I don’t like.”

  “And the principal in this instance would be?”

  “Gunnery Sergeant, please tell me he isn’t always so daft.”

  “Daft?” I mouthed to him.

  “You know I’m going to run with that, right?” he whispered before turning.

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less.” I sighed.

  “Daft, senseless, stupid, foolish…if we want to delve into the thesaurus, I think we could even strike out with crazy or insane. Each of those words has its own nuisance built into it, and I can assure you that my man here, he would check off every box for them.”

  “You’re the best,” I told him.

  “So yes, Major, I would say Talbot is daft. He’s also one of the wiliest, most courageous, and most loyal of any man I have ever met, and I am proud to serve alongside him.”

  “Underneath,” I clarified.

  “I’m finally throwing you a bone and you’re going to bury it?”

  “What’s any of this got to do with what is going on?” Tabitha asked.

  “Major, you’ve been nothing but accommodating. This has nothing to do with whether Talbot thinks you’re an enemy or that you might go to the colonel with tales of espionage. Which we’re not talking about, right?” He turned to me.

  “Right,” I said as non-committally sounding as I could.

  “Protection? Is that what this is? You’re trying to shelter me?”

  “What you don’t know can’t hurt you,” I said, turning long enough to tell her that. Should have known Bruno would take that as a challenge, as he moved closer. The large dog was inches from my crotch; I was not comfortable with that fact. “Can you maybe get your dog to heel or something?” I asked.

  “Bruno, stranger danger,” she said.

  The dog, which had seemed blasé about the whole thing, was suddenly all ears, teeth, and drooling muzzle. A ridge of bristled hair stood up along his back.

  “Can’t you do some dog whisperer shit now?” BT had his hands up in the air.

  “He doesn’t have a gun,” I said.

  “I’d rather get shot.”

  I had to agree, considering the dog was locked and loaded and was in a perfect position to change the pitch of my speech permanently.

  “What do you want, Major?”

  “I want you to come back, sit down, and tell me what is going on.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Bruno has always been a fan of pork and beans.” I could sense the mirth in her words. Bruno, unfortunately, wasn’t picking up on it.

  “Half a dozen lawns we could have picked on this road to see what we wanted, and leave it to you to pick the one with Cujo’s cousin and Rose Madder’s sister.”

  I gave him a funny look before I turned. “I’m sitting down now.” I wanted to raise my hands over my head, but BT looked so damn foolish, I didn’t want to join him.

  “That’s probably for the best,” Tabitha said.

  “We can’t stay long. My wife will send out a search party if I’m gone for too long.”

  “As if. She’s most likely doing pirouettes with you not in the house.” BT sat in the chair next to mine.

  “You two don’t have the typical officer/enlisted relationship I’m used to seeing,” Tabitha said.

  “We’ve been around the block a few times. Pretty sure he’s pissed I’m married; that’s why he’s dating my sister. So he can stay close.”

  “Yeah, nailed it. I’m just waiting for you to finally screw up so bad Tracy won’t take you back, then I’m swooping in.”

  “It’s good of you to finally voice it. Holding something like that in can be detrimental.”

  “You’d be so lucky,” he replied.

  Sat with the major for another forty-five minutes. I told her mostly everything. There was a lot missing and/or plain-out avoided; she could sense the gaps, but never pressed. When she seemed content with the speed we had brought her up to, we said our goodbyes. Bruno, by this time, was resting comfortably on the couch. He didn’t so much as look up as we left.

  “You think she’s an ally?” BT asked as we got back in the Hummer.

  I was looking back at the house. “If the MPs are waiting at our houses, we’ll know the answer.”

  “Great. I was hoping for another reason to look over my shoulder. Justin, get us out of here.”

  “Everything all right, dad?” he asked before he pulled away. The major waved from the window, I nodded back.

  “Doubtful.” I had a decent idea that she wasn’t going to turn us in; no, the real problem was Dewey. Nothing good was going to come from his presence.

  “You were gone for a while. There’s iced coffee for you in the fridge.” Tracy was sitting at the table, my grandson in her lap.

  It seemed like such a decent, natural thing: a bubble of normalcy with a raging shit-storm swirling around. I kissed her, tussled Wesley’s hair, and was heading for the fridge. I was nearly assaulted by Chloe as she came around the corner and barreled into my legs—Holly, in hot pursuit. They both stopped their game when they got a whiff of my betrayal.

  “You cheating on them?” Tracy asked.

  “Are the bug-out bags ready?” I’d leaned down to assure the dogs that Bruno had meant nothing to me.

  “They’re always ready. Why? What did you do now?”

  “Why do you assume it’s always me?”

  “I don’t think that’s an unreasonable assumption,” she replied.

  How does one argue with sound logic? Sure, I could have blustered and made my voice louder. Obviously, the one that protests loudest is correct.

  “Bennington brought the zombie here—the one I told you about from New York.”

  “Huey?”

  “Dewey.”

  “Who can tell, with the ridiculous names you make up.”

  “I use ridiculous names to cover up the fact of just how scary those characters are. I’m not Spider-Man, but my danger senses are tingling.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m thinking about how I’m going to put a bullet in that zombie’s head.”

  Tracy walked over to the playpen and put the baby in it. “What happens when you do that? I can’t imagine Bennington will be all that thrilled, especially after using what I’m sure was a lot of resources used to capture him.”

  “He should give me a medal for saving this place, but if I’m caught, I could end up standing against a wall.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let it get to that point. Going to talk to the colonel tomorrow.”

  “That ought to go well. We’ll be ready to leave when you get back.”

  7

  Mike Journal Entry 6

  I waited impatiently outside the colonel’s office for almost eight minutes—thought I was going to fidget right out of my seat. I was making the corporal behind the desk nervous with how much I was moving around. Wouldn’t doubt if he thought I had lice.

  “The colonel’s ready to see you,” he said as he put the phone down.

  “Sir,” I said at the position of attention.

  “Sit.” He motioned to a chair. “What can I help you with? Must be important if you’re coming to see me on your downtime.”

  “You know why I’m here, sir.”

  “I thought I made it abundantly clear this is none of your business, Talbot.”

  “In some manner of words, you did. But that doesn’t change the fact that the thing you just let in here affects us all.”

  “It’s one zombie, Lieutenant.
I think we’re more than capable of dealing with it.”

  “You read my report, sir; you heard my debrief. This isn’t some regular zombie.”

  “And that’s the reason we need to study it. If we are indeed creating enhanced zombies, would it not be wise to learn all we can about them?”

  It was hard to argue with logical common sense, but that was what I did on a daily basis. Besides, what part of any of this was logical?

  “Ah, sir, you’re going to want to see this.” The corporal had come in and was carrying a tablet. I turned to look, but the screen was facing away.

  “Anything else, Lieutenant?” the colonel asked.

  I was being dismissed. “No, sir.” I stood and did my best to get a glimpse of the screen as the corporal concealed it with his body.

  “Please shut the door on your way out.”

  Tried my best to listen in, but if the colonel said anything, it was too quiet to hear, or more likely, he was too stunned to say anything. It didn’t matter. We found out soon enough what was on that screen, as two days later, we were once again airlifted out.

  “Major Eastman, good to see you again,” I said as I boarded.

  “Wish I could say the same,” he replied as he went through his pre-flight checklist.

  “Surprised they gave you another plane.” I smiled as he flashed an eagle over his shoulder.

  “Please tell me there’re no more skyscrapers.” BT was referring to our last jump and how we’d lost a Hummer and Gary had gotten a severe case of road rash.

  “Not even jumping this time,” I said as I opened and read the sealed envelope that contained our orders. I spent the next ten minutes looking everything over. BT, surprisingly, let me do so uninterrupted. Probably busy trying to digest whatever my sister had fed him this morning. Takes the body a good long while to break down kale quinoa muffins.

  “What are we doing out here? Picking up some frozen yogurt machines?” BT was joking.

  “I wish.” I handed him an eight by twelve-inch photo of what, at first glance, looked like an ink blot.

  “What the hell am I…oh,” he said once he figured it out. “Those are all zombies?”