by Tufo, Mark
“Dumb it down,” I told her.
“He would be able to infiltrate the enemy, presumably. I’ve said all I’m going to say. I need to get back to my shift.”
I had an unreasonable urge to smack her on the side of the head; I smartly refrained.
“What the actual fuck is going on?” BT asked, looking to me.
“I don’t get it, BT. I mean, are they trying to make zombie-human hybrids?”
“Don’t,” BT warned.
“Zumans? Maybe humbies?”
“I knew you were going to do that. Seriously, Mike, what’s the sense of trapping someone inside of one of those monsters? All it would do is make them insane.”
“Eventually, I would think, but what if the person stuck inside the zombie could communicate somehow. Become a spy? It would be invaluable. Trust me, man, I’m not saying I agree with any of this, but I can see the angle they’re going for.”
“An unwilling spy. This place feels like it’s starting to slip. I get that we’re backed up into a corner, but still,” BT said.
“The Old Man is grasping at straws. This latest catastrophe is a nice dollop of spray shit on a carrot cake.”
“Why do you have to fuck with carrot cake so much?”
“It’s a fucking carrot, BT. Don’t see people making kale cakes, do you? Hello, good sir, would you care for a mung bean muffin? Nobody wants that garbage.”
“You’ve officially lost your mind.”
“No shit.” The only response I could give to him that made sense. “You know what we have to do, right?” I asked.
“How are you planning on getting into his room?”
“I’m not going to do anything until I’m sure he’s a zombie. I can’t even believe this shit is happening. He’s just a kid. Not a word of this to the rest of the squad. I’ll take care of it when and if it becomes necessary.”
“We should talk to Major Dylan. I’d think she’d know something,” BT said.
This was when the conspiracies started shooting around in my head like errant fireworks. “If she knew anything, she would have come straight to us.”
“Probably true,” BT said.
“And now I’m afraid to tell her because she’ll start checking in corners she shouldn’t, and I don’t want this shitty apocalypse to devolve into a murder-mystery. Not sure how big we can extend our umbrella of protection. Or she does know and we’re feeding the opposition what we know.”
“You don’t believe that.”
I shook my head. “I don’t, but this is her hospital. Something to think about.”
“This is not right. Who knows how many others they’ve tried this on? Might even have some of them out there right now.” BT pointed to the fence.
“One thing at a time, buddy. In the meantime, you want to pretend to be intimidating?”
“Pretend? You going to start sniffing around Deneaux’s trail?”
“That’s the idea.”
“We won’t get halfway to her contacts before she knows, then all this playing coy shit will have been for nothing.”
“You’re right. Can you get the names of the people who work at the armory?”
“Yeah, and what are you going to be doing?”
“I was thinking about playing with the dogs.”
“And I’m doing this leg work, why?”
“I’m going to do some late night visits.”
“You realize that some of these individuals will be in a barracks, with two, maybe three roommates.”
I shrugged. “You’re right, big man. It has to be a night visit. Deneaux threatened my family. Without anything to take to the colonel, my only other out is to kill her.”
“And? I’ll do it, if you don’t want to.”
“Trust me, I want to. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she did all of this. I just want to be a hundred.”
“You’ve never had odds this great, and now you’re going to hem and haw about another one percent?”
“Cold-blooded murder is not something I take lightly.”
“Nor should you, but she’s overdue, brother, and you know it. She won’t hesitate to make good those threats to our family.”
I grabbed his hand for a shake then leaned in for a brief hug. “Talk to you soon,” I told him.
I did go home; I’d planned on brooding. Things had looked so sweet here not so long ago. Now I was figuring out how I was going to perform a mercy killing on one of my squad and torture out a confession from one of Deneaux’s compatriots. Things were devolving here faster than the zombies were evolving. Who needed a ruthless, unremitting, enemy when we were quite capable of being our own undoing? Still, the resilience of humankind was a wonder; we were somehow hanging around despite our many flaws and our tendencies toward self-annihilation.
Bacon-loving Ben Ben, back from the vet, was the first to greet me. He was a dog after my own heart, about as psychotic as they come. He was spinning in circles and barking like he was being attacked by killer bees. Unbeknownst to me, he was trying to hide from his gaseous emissions. Nearly passed out from the tainted oxygen when I bent down to pet him.
“Oh, lordy.” I stood and placed my hand on the wall to keep steady. I should have known something was up with the way the rest of the pack was hanging back, waiting for me to come to them instead of making a mad dash. I held my breath and rubbed Ben Ben’s head for a few seconds. It wasn’t enough; it was never enough. I moved, he moved, the rest of the pack moved. It was a strange choreography.
“Do not bring that dog in here!” Tracy yelled from the kitchen.
“You should have left him at the vet a little longer.”
“Why do you think they called me to pick him up? He was making the other dogs sick.”
About twenty minutes later, after trying to avoid the stink machine, he went outside and took care of some business. I’d been home about an hour and was on the floor, my head propped up against the couch. I'd read about ten pages from a book I’d been trying to get through and had summarily fallen asleep.
“Good God, man, is that you?” BT was standing by my feet, his head turned and a hand over his face.
“No wonder my dreams were revolving around a dump.” I stood quickly.
“So, there’s Captain Ogilvie and Gunnery Sergeant Deeks, both who were at the range that day. Sergeant Dankins was up at the front with Stenzel, and then there was a Corporal Collier.”
“Guess I’m going for the last one. Got an address?”
“Barracks nineteen, room three-twenty-eight. He has one roommate; near as I can tell the other spends most of his time over at his girlfriend’s, two barracks away.”
“Appreciate the info.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No, this one is on me. Get some rest.”
“You might want to think about a colonoscopy because something has surely crawled up your ass and died.”
“It’s not me, man.”
“Whatever.” He walked out the door.
“What’d BT want?” Tracy asked from the top of the stairs.
“I think he was looking for food.”
“Trademark Talbot.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“Smart ass answers in lieu of the truth.”
“In lieu?”
“Ah. And then the go-to misdirection.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then the trifecta: stalling. Let’s forgo the denial part that’s surely coming, and get right to the end, where we both know we’re going to end up.”
I stared at her, she’d given me little wiggle room. “I don’t appreciate being called out like this.”
“Then stop being so predictable.”
I ran up the stairs. “I’ll show you predictable.” I picked her up and headed to the bedroom. She bounced when I tossed her on the bed.
“Spill it,” she said as she had one hand on the top button of her blouse. She undid it slowly then moved to the nex
t. “Waiting…” She undid the next and slowly pulled the material to the side; what I could see so far was most excellent. “I think I’ll take a nap.” She fake yawned.
“Dammit. You can’t use sex as a weapon.”
“Says who?”
“It’s against one of the peace accords or something. I read that somewhere.”
“Uh-huh.” She undid a third button.
“If I start talking about this, it’s going to deflate the issue,” I said, taking a glance down.
“Oh, I’m positive we’ll be able to blow it back up.”
“Are you sure you’re not some sexy Soviet spy? Sent here to steal state secrets?”
“Tell me what is going on, Michael Talbot, or I’m going to go back to what I was doing.”
I stood looking down upon her, her shirt half open, her red hair fanned around her angelic face, and yeah, I spilled it. Any of you, with your significant other, would have done the same thing. She said nothing when I finished, waiting until we finished something entirely different. She let me burn through the after-glowing fog; I even got to dress.
“So, now what?” She had stood up
“Goddamn, woman! You look better now than the day we got married.”
“Not a chance.” She smiled.
“Now I find the witness; I need to burn the hag.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
“Don’t lie to me, Mike.”
I kissed her. “I’ll be back soon.”
It was dark when I left, and still, I took the circuitous route to the barracks, as I wanted it to be late-late, like maybe Collier would be asleep, late. Plus, there would be very little foot traffic wandering around. I could hear loud music and boisterous talk coming from one of the rooms on the first floor, opposite the side I wanted to be on. I avoided the party, hoping my mark wasn’t there.
“Shit,” I muttered when I passed by a door marked three-twenty-six. I could see the glow of a television coming from the window of the next room. “Fuck it,” I said. Who was I hiding from? I’d just grab him by the neck and squeeze the truth out. It was far less than he deserved. Got a couple of surprises in the next few minutes. Went to knock on the door; it was ajar. And, yup, the standard murder-mystery trope flashed in my mind. I was going to find Corporal Collier at his desk with a bullet through his forehead. Which would mean the MPs had already been called, most likely by the murderer, and then I would be caught in a seemingly red-handed position. An investigation would be done; they’d somehow find out that our gear had been tampered with, and figure that, in a fit of rage, I’d decided to confront the culprit, exacting my own form of revenge.
“Nope, never did like those kind of movies,” I said, not even pushing the door open. I could hear footsteps running upstairs. I grabbed hold of the railing and swung down to the second floor, doing my best to land softly. I would have jumped down to the ground, but suddenly the parking lot erupted in police lights, three military vehicles screeching into the parking lot.
“Lieutenant Talbot?” Private Harmon had opened her door to the disturbance happening outside.
“Hello, Autumn—got a minute?” I asked as I crowded past her and into her room.
“What’s going on?” she asked, not stepping away from the door yet.
“I just want you to know, I had nothing to do with it.”
“With what?” She turned toward me, a look of concern on her face.
“I, uh, came here to see how you were doing.” I fumbled around my words.
She looked down. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before I asked for the transfer.”
“Of all the things in this world I don’t understand, that’s not one of them,” I answered kindly. I meant what I said, and I hoped that she could sense that too.
“I’ve been meaning to come and see you.”
“There’s no need for explanation,” I told her.
“That’s not it.” My mouth was open, as I planned to speak. She placed her hand up. “I know I’m not cut out for the field missions, but I still wanted to help out…help you and the squad out.” She was looking at me for a reaction. I was momentarily distracted by yelling from outside, figured MPs were running around, looking for a murderer. What the hell was I going to say when they came knocking on this door? It would look mighty suspicious, me in here. I was wondering how mad Tracy was going to be if I feigned an illicit affair. Autumn went to the door.
“What are you worried about?” She opened the door before I could respond. She walked out and to the railing. She was holding on, bent over and craning her head to watch something. “I was wondering when they were going to break that up.” She turned and came back in.
“The MPs, they were here for the party?”
“What else would they have been here for?” she asked, now curious.
“Uh, yeah. That was what I was wondering.”
“Your wife must love the fact that you can’t lie worth a shit.”
“That’s shit, sir, to you.”
“Sir,” she smiled.
“I have a lead I’m following up on is all.” She didn’t need to know more than that. She’d be much safer not knowing, and honestly, she was no longer my problem as she had requested a transfer out of my squad. I often amaze myself with how many times I can be wrong. You think you’ve come to a cap on such things, only to realize the ceiling was glass and you were wielding a hammer.
“Does this have to do with your latest mission?”
“Who told you?”
“My boyfriend.”
“Kirby?”
“What? No!”
“What’s wrong with Kirby?”
“Besides being loud and obnoxious?”
I shrugged. “Worked for me; I got the girl.”
“You’d think for a lieutenant you’d be more aware of your surroundings and your personnel.”
“What does that mean?”
“Kirby and Rose.”
“What? No fucking way. Sorry.”
She laughed. “A few months now.”
“Son of a bitch. He better treat her right or she’s bound to blow his bed up with him in it. A nice chunk of C-4 under your mattress, that’d ruin your whole day.”
“Sir.”
“Sorry, what else don’t I know?”
“I would imagine a lot,” she replied.
“Ouch.”
“I was going to get a message to you tomorrow, but this will do. My boyfriend, he’s a civilian. He’s in the equivalent of the post office here; he delivers messages for the entire base, but primarily the Civilian Board.”
If ears perked, mine would have been standing straight up and proud like Spock’s.
“He was behind on his route; I may or may not take responsibility for that.” She looked at me.
“Not judging,” I told her.
“So he gets to the Civilian Board meeting house over on Langmore.”
“I’m aware of the place.” I did my utmost to avoid the bureau of bureaucracy. Can’t even begin to discuss the dismay I felt when I realized red tape had made it through the apocalypse with flying colors.
“So, he grabs the stack of correspondence sitting on the receptionist’s desk. He was about to leave when he heard this big commotion coming from the end of the hallway. He thought, what with the groans and yelling, that someone must be in trouble.”
“No receptionist?”
“She’d gone home. As I said, he was a little later than normal.”
“Still not judging.”
“Vivian Deneaux was there with a couple other members from the board.”
“Yeah?” I was leaning in; no way she was telling me this if they were standing around drinking snifters and smoking Cuban cigars, talking about how big their bank accounts were, discussing where they hid their gold in the Maldives…things I figured all rich people did.
“He said they were watching a big television. He thought maybe it was an old sportscast, the way they were all
yelling and pointing, but when he got a better look, he only saw mostly white.”
“Then some red heat signatures.” I knew where this was going.
“You knew?”
“I knew we’d been set up. Does your boyfriend know the names of the other board members that were there?”
“Yeah, he knows them all.”
“This is important, Harmon. Did anyone see him? His life would very much be in danger.”
“He didn’t stay long, and he made sure to leave the messages back on the desk to make it look like he’d never been there.”
“Smart man.”
“Well, he is dating me.” She smiled.
“Did he hear what they were saying?”
“It involved a lot of swearing, and your name came up repeatedly.”
“Ah, just like home.”
“Sir, it isn’t funny. They were rooting for you, for all of you, to die.”
“Trust me, I agree, Harmon, nothing funny about it. They’d planned pretty well for this. We’re extremely lucky to have come back, and as it is, I have her to thank for a casualty.”
“Springer? But he’s alive.”
“Not really, but I’m not going to get into that. Did your boyfriend say if the Old Man was there?”
“The colonel? You think the colonel had something to do with this? But why? Why any of it?”
“Vivian and I have a history, something I mistakenly assumed was over. The colonel, I don’t know…this is already bigger than I thought. I can’t even begin to imagine what Deneaux spouted to the board to have them turn. How many of them were in on it?”
“Four were with her.”
“So, more than half. Not good.” I turned from her to do what I did worst…think. “Would cutting off the head of the snake be enough?”
“Sir?”
“I said that out loud?”
“It would seem so,” she replied. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
“Jerry.”
“Please tell Jerry thank you for me, and if he heard or hears anything else, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do, sir—and I’m sorry I didn’t come to you with the transfer request.”
“Hell, Harmon, if I thought I could get a transfer I’d do it my damn self. Take care of yourself, kiddo, and thank you.”