by Byrd, Daniel
"How close do we need to get him?" Jackson asked. Hamilton was surprised that the man didn't argue, but the tone conveyed more than someone determined to play their role. There was malice hidden beneath it all right.
"Within a mile of the site. We're keeping forces outside of the city for the transfer. You two will be the only ones in the area, and that's already technically breaking the conditions of the agreement. While the doctor has insisted on going alone,” Houseman said, frowning at Hamilton, “I believe he should be supervised until he is safely delivered to the site. Once he's been dropped off, you simply return to base."
Max was skeptical of the orders. “Is that all?"
Houseman looked at the three of them as a malicious grin snuck across his face. “It would be if that was all we were doing."
"Uh-oh," Jackson sighed out, resting his chin in his right hand. “We're not playing by their rules, are we, sir?”
"Of course not. We need to get an I.D. on everyone we can. That includes the people Dr. Hamilton will meet. He'll feed us everything he can once he's in. If we can just get a location, we'll be set."
"What makes you think they won't just kill him?" Jackson inquired. Hamilton had to wonder if he heard an ounce of hope in the soldier’s voice.
"They won't," Houseman assured him. “He has something they want."
"What exactly does he have?" Max asked. Jackson was surprised he of the two of them was being assertive. It almost made him proud.
"He has knowledge that can bring their plans to fruition. Knowledge of a strain of the virus that wiped out Austin, and posed a threat to Seattle."
Max raised a finger. “And…how does he have that kind of knowledge?"
Hamilton avoided their eyes as Housman and Hampton appeared to be swept with unease. Houseman cleared his throat. “We couldn't reveal it during the briefing, but you two should know since you'll be getting to know the doctor anyway."
"Reveal what?" Jackson questioned, carefully watching the two military officials. Both were exhibiting nervous body gestures, even if they didn't know themselves. The Major took the lead.
"Dr. Hamilton's field of research has opened the doors to a lot of things," Hampton started. “His expertise-"
"Hold on there kiss-ass," Jackson said, raising a hand to silence him. “If you're going to tell us that he's to blame for this fucking zombie apocalypse, I'm out."
Hampton didn't open his mouth to speak again. Houseman removed his cap and rubbed his eyes with his left hand. Jackson angrily stared from them to Hamilton as the doctor shrugged his shoulders. That was it. Jackson stood up, flipping his chair over, and before Max could get ahold of him, he was across the table with the collar of Hamilton's coat in his hands. He lifted the man up and barked, “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY?!" He threw Hamilton onto the table, raising a fist to cave in the doctor's nose when he heard the slide of a pistol. He froze, with Hamilton staring blankly at him as he cocked his head to the left to see what the noise was.
"Let him go," Hampton's voice said calmly, finger on the trigger of his M9, and Jackson’s center of mass in the iron sights.
Jackson released his grip on the doctor and stood back to allow him to get to his feet as Hampton lowered the gun and sat back down. Hamilton adjusted his coat and returned to his chair as Jackson walked around the table and retrieved his from the floor.
Houseman leaned forward and grunted. “Now you understand why we didn't announce this before. Dr. Hamilton here was part of a team of five that researched reanimation for psychological warfare. The project was deemed too dangerous, and the tactic labeled illegal for use in warfare. Three of the others took the data and created the virus that allows the creatures you've seen to walk the Earth. Dr. Hamilton may have been a part of the initial project, but he's made the move to stop it. Whatever personal experiences you've had with the undead, you shouldn't allow it to affect the operation. He's taking a risk most people would shrink away from at an instance by agreeing to infiltrate the terrorist group."
"I wouldn't say ‘agreed’ is the right word,” Hamilton interjected, “but I suppose extortion sounds too cruel?”
"Sure," Houseman replied sternly, "now shut it."
Hamilton held his hands up in surrender and leaned back in his chair. Jackson wasn't convinced of the doctor's reputation.
"You said this guy went out on his own and stopped the others. Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."
"I understand," Houseman said with a grin. “He doesn't appear to be one to put up a fight. He had his own motives for doing it."
"Like?" Max directed towards the doctor.
Hamilton groaned as he replied, “I just wanted to right my wrongs. Is that so hard to believe?"
"Look," Houseman said in a scathing voice, "we can discuss the mad scientist bit all day, but between him and you two, I put him higher in the pecking order."
Jackson placed his hand on his chest and feigned his disappointment. “And after the nice things you said, I'm hurt, General." Houseman threw his hat at him. Jackson was about to laugh, when he caught the look in Houseman's eyes. He wasn't joking. Their lives probably didn't matter at all to the man in the grand scheme of things.
"Mr. Jackson, the only reason you're alive right now is because I have use for you. If I didn't, you'd be court-martialed and put to death for compromising the safety of our nation."
"I think 'zombie doc' here is more responsible for shit than I am," Jackson argued as he thumbed towards Hamilton.
"He's the only shot we have at ending this. I'd gladly throw you to the masses to tear apart for your crimes before him.”
"I'm flattered," Hamilton spoke. Jackson flipped him off.
"Enough!" Houseman commanded. “I've had enough of this childish bullshit! You three are going to work together, and you're all going to get along, or I will have you ejected from this plane at high altitude into the damn ocean! If that doesn't do it, I'll turn this plane around and have all three of you tied up on posts next to each other on the outskirts of the Philidelphia Haven to serve as bait for the deadmen as my soldiers pick them off!”
Jackson and Hamilton didn't speak again. Max stared at the table, not daring to do anything to anger Houseman any further. Unfortunately, doing nothing didn't help.
"Dawson!"
"Sir!" Max responded, struggling to lock eyes with the commanding officer.
"Did I make myself clear?!"
"Y-yes sir!"
"Good," Houseman replied, nodding his head behind him towards the door. “You and Jackson are dismissed. I need to talk with the doctor in private.”
Jackson and Max didn't wait for a second more. They were up and out as quickly as they could manage, and when Houseman heard the door shut behind him, he had Hampton lock it.
"Now, we can discuss…doctor?"
Hamilton was observing the stub on his right hand where his finger should be as he responded in a melancholy manner, “Yes?"
"Missing it?"
"The days when I could do as I wanted without too much fear of repercussions? Yes.”
"Hamilton, I need you to listen to me carefully," Houseman began, his voice carrying the weight of his distress. “When we've delivered you to the enemy, you are to obey their every command. If they ask you to aid in their research, you do it. If they ask you to perform experiments, you do it. If lives are cost, then so be it, but you will give them no indication that you still have ties to anyone on this side. Can you do this?"
Hamilton stopped attending to his hand and glanced up at Houseman, feigning a grin. "Pardon me, General, but are you asking me to be an evil mad scientist?"
Houseman nodded, his face contorted into a disgusted frown. “Essentially, as much as it past me to ask the one man who I feel would fit right into the shoes Tuefel left empty. Again, can you do this?"
Hamilton winced at the name, but laughed anyway. "It's been my dream since I was a child, sir.”
"Good to hear," Houseman responded, stil
l amazed that Hamilton could even simulate sarcasm. The man never ceased to amaze him. Maybe the psyche evaluation needed to be updated after all?
Hamilton raised a finger. "I guess my only question would be how to get the coordinates to you once I've determined the location of their hideout? What actions should I take once I've accomplished that goal?"
"Odds are that they'll have every piece of technology in their possession under surveillance. They'll expect tricks from us; everything we’ve received came from proxy servers and other anonymous means. That's why we'll have to rely on something simple.”
"Something like a letter?” Hamilton suggested. Houseman smirked and looked to Hampton, who was currently heaving and covering his mouth with his hands as he belched. The Major wasn't a fan of not being on the ground. Hampton took a deep breath and prepared to talk, "Right. Doctor, you are aware of the RFID device that was inserted into your body?"
Hamilton nodded, "Yes, yes. The microscopic transmitter that measures my vitals and gives my location constantly to whoever is playing the role of ‘Big Brother’ I assume?”
"That's right. It's a crucial part of this operation. We'll simply receive the location from the device.”
Hamilton contritely gazed at the table. "This device was crucial, you say?"
Houseman cocked an eye. “Yes, it's how we'll get the location of the bastards. Hamilton," Houseman said in an interrogative tone, "is there something you want to tell us?"
Hamilton slowly brought his head up, not meeting Houseman’s gaze. “Suppose...this device is no longer on my person?"
Houseman was befuddled. “No longer on your...Hamilton, did...did you remove your transmitter?"
Hamilton slowly brought his right hand up yet again. "Guilty."
Houseman and Hampton were astounded. Hampton was struggling to form the obvious question. “How...why did you remove it?!"
"I hate being monitored. Gives me nightmares. Well, I already have nightmares, but, you know, I don't want paranoia-induced nightmares. Then again, I already have those too..."
"Hold on," Houseman interjected. “I would have been notified had you done such a thing. That means your vitals are still being monitored. Either you're lying, or have some explaining to do."
Hamilton shrugged. "I inserted it into a pig. You know her, the one in the lab."
Houseman was speechless. Hampton dramatically slammed his head on the table, a bit over-the-top for Houseman's likings. He tried to calm himself as he addressed the doctor again, but there was no calm way to ask for motives. “Why did you put the chip in a pig?!"
"Pigs have similar resting heart rates compared to humans. A tad bit of a difference, but apparently not that prominent. As I said, I hate being monitored."
Houseman placed his head in his hand and grunted. "When we land in Ramstein, you're getting another one."
"Well, I enjoyed the sleep while it lasted,” Hamilton uttered with a sigh.
Hampton lifted his head up. “We literally thought you never left! That pig has been in that lab for two months!"
"I didn't want to use Ashley as an experiment," Hamilton said defensively. “She's been good company.”
"You named the pig?" Houseman asked.
"Yes. I've grown quite fond of her. Will someone keep an eye on her while I'm away?"
"Just shut it," Houseman said dismissively. “We can remedy this. You'll be given another chip, and you'll also be given a pair of shoes with a transmitter in the sole of one. Thank the Russians for that kind of idea. We need as many backup plans as possible, especially if you go giving your shoes to a homeless man."
"I'm not going to go handing out military property like a madman."
Hampton snickered. “Says the one who gave his RFID chip to a pig."
"Enough. We've got more details to go over. Along with the location, I'll need you to confirm one more thing for me, doctor."
Hamilton eyed him suspiciously. “What would that be?"
"The identity of the man in charge, and if he's even there. Also, see if you can find out anything about this 'necromancer' character."
Hamilton remembered the name from his unofficial debriefing of the Emmerich Facility incident. Nothing more of the man was learned from Tuefel's files. Hamilton nodded. "What happens after I've given you this information? What will I do then?"
"I'll have a force inserted to wipe the bastards out, and you'll be brought back with us to the States to continue your research on a solution, assuming you don't find one during your stay."
"And I'm supposed to believe this?"
Houseman didn't like being challenged. Dr. Hamilton was no fool; he knew that, but he couldn't know…could he?
"General," Hampton interrupted, "I think that covers the majority of it. We've already briefed him on what is to be expected of him. I think all we can do now is wait."
Houseman held up a finger. “One more thing, Hamilton."
"Which is?"
Houseman gave him the coldest stare. “I don't know what's going on in that head of yours; no one does. If you are planning on using this as a means of joining their side for your own benefit, I want you to know, you won't survive." Hamilton wasn't surprised by Houseman's threat, but he knew it wasn't without meaning. Houseman wouldn't hesitate to have him killed. "Understood?"
Hamilton nodded. "Yes, yes. Is that all, gentlemen?"
Houseman pointed to the door, and Hamilton wasted no time in making his departure from the room.
***
On the other side of the door, Hamilton took a deep breath and began to walk away. Houseman was an ass, but an ass with determination. Hamilton didn't even doubt the threat to drop him into the sea if he didn't behave for the rest of the flight. That would've been its own nightmare.
I'll never understand your irrational fear of the ocean. The world is mostly water. That, and the unknown is everywhere. Your future is unknown to you. Why water?
“People fear spiders and snakes for their appearances,” Hamilton chided, “and I'm unsure of what lies deep in areas we don't know about. I don't want to be above it, or in it. It's why I've never been on a boat, and why I've never been outside of the country. I don't know what's down there, and neither do the people who study the depths.”
Yet outer space is fine?
Hamilton shrugged as he walked. “We have an atmosphere to hinder foreign objects. The only thing stopping something from beneath the ocean is surface tension, and it's much weaker.”
"I'm worried about you."
Hamilton stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. He didn't dare turn around, knowing she'd be there, no matter how much he didn't want her to be. “Go away."
"I don't want to," Julia's voice sounded in his ear, "and neither do you."
"You're dead. You've been dead. I'm haunted by enough, so can I please not be haunted by you too?"
"But, Evan-"
"Stop!" Hamilton shouted as he spun around. There was nothing there.
What the hell is wrong with you?
Hamilton turned back and walked away, nervous acid burning in his stomach. "Hearing voices…so nothing new I suppose."
***
Houseman and Hampton were busy discussing Hamilton's behavior he had exhibited throughout the past several days. Houseman knew of the doctor's psychiatric profile, but feared, yet again, that it was really out of date.
"You really don't think that was just him being himself?" Hampton asked.
"I think his mind is a bit too preoccupied with something else. Maybe it's all of the stress of the past few months. I'm not sure, but I need him in top shape. I’ve dealt with stress in my troops, and smoking is one of the most common ways to cope. It doesn’t help with whatever mental issues he’s having, and we don’t need him being his usual disruptive self."
"I understand, but that's not my jurisdiction, sir. We'd need a specialist."
Houseman shook his head. "I'm afraid of what a specialist would find in that head of his. Anyhow, we need to discus
s England. It took a beating with the loss of London. What about the rest of Europe?"
“All shipping vessels to European countries are being inspected upon arrival at the ports, and that’s assuming the ports are still open. Travel is prohibited in many countries. France's armed forces are constantly patrolling their populated areas and quelling gatherings. A countrywide curfew is in effect in Italy since the city of Albenga was massacred by zombies in one night, with more people missing than turned. Their military forces sent there were met with more than they could handle. I wouldn’t be surprised if a nuclear strike is pending. The Russian military is in the process of eliminating small outbreaks that have sprung up over the past several days. Martial Law is being tossed around like a football. North Korea has its citizens under strict control, and Japan has sealed itself off."
Houseman grunted. "Everyone is beginning to tear themselves apart. They'll only get more desperate as this gets worse."
"It's already gotten to that point," Hampton corrected him. "The numerous infections across China have sparked a war between its citizens and the military. Bodies are being burned instead of buried, and that’s creating its own moral dilemma. People are being shot under suspicion of being infected. I can’t even begin to get into the atrocities in warlord-controlled areas of Africa. Collecting people and massacring them isn’t new, but boasting that those who are being slaughtered are just less people to carry the disease? Sir, Hell is already here."
Houseman didn’t doubt that. "What of the German Army?"
"The Inspector of the German Army has placed all personnel on high alert, and has informed me that the Federal Minister of Defense has agreed to lend us his full cooperation for the mission."
Houseman was glad to hear it. Many of the political leaders of the rest of the world looked down on what the U.S. did to survive, but the threat was now global, and alliances needed to stand ready.
"I don't agree with this," Hampton said in disgust. "Isn't there any other way? The odds of harming the innocent with such a weapon...it's going to make Hiroshima and Nagasaki look like firecrackers."