Hurt World One and the Zombie Rats

by Stuart Parker

  *

  The Texas Air Force Base was in lockdown, the skies and tarmac cleared for the Mach 99 Ultra Speed Jet. Parked on Launch Pad One the engines were still glowing red hot. For ten minutes it had been circling the deserts of Wyoming. Marco McRaven and John Leroy Scope were on the tarmac, waiting with cigarettes in their mouths.

  ‘You know, I hadn’t smoked for two years before you showed up,’ murmured Scope.

  ‘Why not? You’ve got lifetime cover against cancer and cardio.’

  ‘You call that a perk of the job? You take away one possible cause of death and add a hundred more. Very few of them long term.’

  ‘Only a hundred? I think you are underestimating this mission. I daresay there are more than that.’

  Scope took a long draft on his cigarette and blew it into McRaven’s face.

  McRaven smiled through it. ‘My only guarantee is that I won’t be leaving you down there no matter what. So, if you die, I die too. That’s a true partnership.’

  Scope noticed the rocket pod streaking through the sky like a fast moving satellite. He shot a hard look at McRaven. ‘What you just said is stupid. If you die, I’ll make sure as many of the enemy die the same way as I can. Then I’ll return to my ranch and forget all about it. That’s my promise.’

  McRaven nodded with a hard smirk. ‘That’s why you’re going first into the Meltman’s tunnels.’

  The rocket pod’s Hydro Glide Sales deployed directly above them and the vessel entered a silent, measured descent that culminated in it touching down in the dead centre of Launch Pad One. Blast was the first to leave, running out to sniff the feet of McRaven and Scope. Kaptu and Clorvine came next, casually carrying their guns that were now recharged and reloaded.

  McRaven looked them over intently. ‘We weren’t expecting two people,’ he said.

  ‘Clorvine is an officer in the Congolese National Rangers,’ said Kaptu. ‘She will be coming along.’

  McRaven’s eyes settled on Blast. He motioned to pat it but was dissuaded by a snarling display of teeth. ‘You’ve brought your attack dog.’ He gestured to Scope. ‘And I’ve brought mine. How long since your fix on the Meltman?’

  ‘Two or three hours.’

  ‘We’ve tracked the location to one hundred metres below the surface in the Afghan District. The heart of the Meltman’s kingdom. This is your final chance to change your mind if you don’t think it’s going to work.’

  ‘People one hundred metres beneath the earth do not go for country drives. He will still be close. Still, there’s no time to waste.’

  McRaven nodded. ‘Well, you’ve chosen the right team. We’re the best extractors in the business. And this will be our Super Bowl.’ He bounded up the Mach 99s entry ramp. The other members of the party followed a step behind. Already waiting inside in seats lining the walls were ten battle-hardened soldiers decked out in the black Peace Keeper uniforms. Some were chewing on their tobacco, others were smoking it. Only their mouths were visible, with the visors drawn down from their black helmets.

  McRaven pointed Kaptu and Clorvine to two empty seats at the rear of the craft. ‘You have ten seconds to strap yourself in before the G-forces splatter you like runny omelets across the wall.’ He left for the pilot’s seat. The doors closed and the engines loudly stirred as the mercurised-nitro fuel was released.

  Kaptu helped Clorvine into her seat first before strapping himself in beside her. He wrapped his arms around Blast, who was panting wildly with excitement. The Mach 99 aircraft launched vertically with a staggering force. Blast, however, managed to again be licking Kaptu on the face with her sticky, wet tongue. Katpu grimaced helplessly.