Chapter Seventeen
TWO WANGS ARE BETTER THAN ONE
North Korean Observation, PostSparks, NV
“You believe him boss?” Foz asked as he wiped the bloody blade of his Bowie knife on his camouflage pant leg.
“Yeah.” Reese stared down at the unconscious North Korean. To Foz’s great disappointment, he’d only had to cut the man a couple of times before he quickly rattled off all the information then passed out. “Yeah, I do.” He turned toward the bearded man who stood next to him. “Dutch, fix him up best you can then wake his sorry ass up.”
“Right,” Dutch slid his pack over to where Sang lay passed out. “Hopefully Foz didn’t slice him up too bad, I just fixed that sucker's wounds.”
“He’ll be fine.” Foz slid the big knife back into its sheath. “I just sliced him a little, made sure he was telling the truth.”
“Whatever.” Dutch, mildly annoyed, said as he rolled the bleeding and unconscious man onto his back.
“If what the little Captain says is true, we may have stumbled onto a gold mine here. We’re talking about buying yourself a private island retirement.” Reese glanced over at the computer monitors. “Grace, check out their tech. See if you can find a computer we didn’t shoot the fuck out of.”
“On it.” A big black man, dressed in SWAT gear, slung his M4 to the front and hurried over to the rows of desks looking for one that still had a working computer system. After a few minutes, Grace finally succeeded in finding an undamaged monitor, with a satisfied grunt, he sat down heavily in a rolling chair. “Give me a minute.”
“Foz,” Reese hit the Russian on the shoulder. “Let’s see if we can get some corroboration on Wang's story.”
“That’s Sang” Foz corrected him. “Wang, Sang. Whatever.”
Reese stepped over to where Major KI-Moon sat against the cinderblock wall drinking thirstily from a water bottle. The man guarding him sat on a corner of the desktop, smugly crossing his arms over his rifle. As the two other men approached, he glanced up at them and chuckled. “He caved. Guess all the excitement made him thirsty.”
“Good.” Reese patted Hobbs on the shoulder then knelt down in front of the North Korean soldier. KI-Moon stopped mid drink. “Listen Comandante. We just broke your boy back there. He’s spilled the beans. We know everything you assholes are up to, so we’re going to let him live, as promised.” The mercenary leader patted him lightly on the cheek then stood up. “Which means we don’t need two of you. Especially one that’s not cooperative.” Reese snapped his fingers and the big Russian took a step forward, as he did, he slowly pulled the 18-inch knife from his belt making sure the Major could get a good, long look at the razor-sharp blade. “Take your time Foz. Make it hurt.”
“W-Wait!” KI-Moon screamed in perfect English, the water bottle falling from his hand. All his counter interrogation training swiftly vanished as he had watched the Bowie knife slowly emerge from its nylon sheath. The officer did not want to die, especially at the hands of the man wielding the big blade. “Wait! I will cooperate.”
“Well, fuck us.” Reese crossed his tattooed arms in front of his EAT A DICK shirt. “Admiral Wang does speak the language. Surprise, surprise.” The men around him darkly chuckled.
KI-Moon shuddered at their laughter. “I already have one of you, why do I need two. Convince me you invading fuck.”
“I know the codes to restart the computer system.” KI-Moon swallowed. “Grace?”
“Yeah, I can get the system working but I can’t log on to their program.” The big black man said from behind the computer screen.
“I can get you on.” The Major said wide eyed. “You let me live and I’ll get you everything you need.”
“You making demands now Chin?” Reese frowned.
“No, no.” KI-Moon shook his head. “I want to cooperate.”
“See, I like that. Cooperation.” Reese smiled as he reached down and pulled the smaller man to his feet. “You help us and I will let you live. Most definitely. I am a man of my word.” He gripped KI-Moon hard on his left shoulder, digging his thick gloved fingers into him. “You screw us over, you invading prick, and I’ll have my men each take a turn fucking you in the ass. Get it? Then Foz will skin what’s left of your sorry hide. Comprende?”
KI-Moon just stared at him blankly. The North Korean clearly didn’t know his Spanish. Reese let out an irritated sigh.
“Understand?”
“Yes.” The Major nodded as cold sweat rolled down his cheeks.
“Good.” He shoved the officer over to the knife wielding Russian. “I guess two Wangs are better than one.”
“I knew a girl like that in Germany.” Hobbs grinned.
“Foz, take Wang over to Grace and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Da.” Foz grabbed the trembling KI-Moon and dragged him over to where Grace sat behind the computer.
“Sarge.” Hobbs slid off the desktop. “I really don’t want to fuck him in the ass.”
“Neither do I. You see he about shit himself when I said that. Put the fear of God in him though. Used to scare my girlfriend when I said shit like that to her.” Reese chuckled. “She never wanted anal. I’d ask her and she’d say ‘Okay. You first’.” He shook his head remembering her ever alluring smile, sad she was gone. Probably an infected now. “Besides, the only one I could probably get to do that to him is Baz. Our Comrades baby brother will fuck anything with a hole.”
“Speaking of Baz, they should be here any minute.”
“Yeah.” Reese glanced down at his watch. “Looks like we might be here a little longer than planned. But the payoff could be worth it.”
“You think this is all real?” Hobbs asked.
“Unfortunately yes. Fortunately for us we can cash in on it. If those two shit heads are telling the truth, we could be fucking Billionaire heroes.”
“Damn.” Hobbs shook his head. “I...”
“Don’t go jumping the gun.” Reese raised a gloved finger. “Not just yet. Finish policing anything in here that may be of value just in case Ho Chi Minh is full of shit.”
“You do know Ho Chi Minh was Vietnamese, right?”
“Same difference.” Reese said, annoyed as he headed back over to the others. Hobbs had served with him for several years as a private military contractor (PMC) before the world had come apart. Dutch, Hobbs, and Foz were the only ones that could talk to him like that without fear of repercussions. “Just get back to fucking work!”
“Roger that Sarge.”
Chapter Eighteen
POUND CAKE
Peach Springs, AZ
Ram lay on the thin cot staring up at the ceiling. He knew he should get some sleep while he could, he’d always been good at grabbing a nap whenever he had a chance. Sleep deprivation was never an issue. Even on his TDY deployments in the Air Force he’d always found a way to grab some extra ZZ’s. Something his insomniac wife had always envied. God, how he missed her. Ram slowly turned onto his left side bringing the thin wool blanket along with him. Seems like whoever designed the useless charcoal colored blankets had made a killing selling them to the military and prisons. Ram chuckled to himself, even during the apocalypse there was no escaping any of the small, shitty things he’d encountered in his past life.
It felt good to be clean and shaved. It had probably been weeks since he’d had a shower. Last time they had one was when they’d stumbled onto some seedy by the hour motel that still, for some strange reason, had all its utilities up and running. A crackhead couple, armed with an antique Thompson machine gun and a Street Sweeper shotgun let them stay for half the day so they could shower and rest. It only cost them a box of .223 rounds and a dozen Zagnut bars they’d found in the trashed remains of a Qwiki Mart. The little break was worth the loss of the valuable items, though Ram had no idea what the two druggies would do with the wrong caliber ammo. Probably just trade it off. It was a nice break though, and one the two badly needed. The cold shower and nap in th
e dirty, crusty, cum stained sheets and blankets of the skanky motel were like a Godsend. The two hadn’t seen much relief lately as they dodged the mobs of hungry infected or the gangs of folks looking to do you harm or steal your shit.
Now with the UN troops on the ground, something sinister was afoot. Afoot? Ram shook his head slightly, when the fuck did he ever use that word. Afoot? Louise.
His wife was a big fan of Sherlock Holmes. Any show with that opium addicted detective she had it DVR’d. Damn, how he missed her. Ram would give anything to return to being that old couch potato, binge watching Sherlock with his wife and worrying about house bills. Those were Old World problems, that’s what Jesse was calling them nowadays. Shit that used to matter. Now surviving seemed to be the only thing, that and finding Louise and his daughter Brit. He really hoped they had packed up and gone to her sister’s house. Lila and her husband Geoff had a place outside of Crescent City.
It was in a pretty secluded area in the Redwoods, so the infected would have a hard time accessing it. Ram was more worried about the scavengers than infected. Geoff wasn’t the type that believed in owning a gun. Luckily Ram and Louise had a couple of handguns, a shotgun, his own Mini-14 and his wife had a .22 HK 416. He was sure she’d have enough firepower to keep them safe. Hell, she was definitely a better shot than he was. Ram just hoped the two of them had been able to get out of the city without being attacked.
Ram rolled over onto his other side. Ever since Doctor Frankenstein had injected him with that purple shit back at that clinic, Ram found that he didn’t need as much sleep as he used to before he became the man’s personal lab rat. His health was definitely improved. Ram was stronger than he’d ever been, that was a plus. It still scared the holy shit out of him not knowing what viruses were introduced into his body. Ram felt like all that shit inside him gave him a fixed expiration date. Even though he felt healthier than he had in years, something inside him wasn’t right. Hopefully he could find his family and donate his blood before his time ran out.
He looked across the small room to see Jesse sound asleep in her bunk. Ram had only worked with her a few times before the fateful prison transport that had thrown them together. They were really strangers. Now the two were tight as any two battle buddies. Ram grinned, Jesse was half his age, just a few years older than his daughter. In some ways he felt the younger prison guard had become a second daughter. Jesse was a product of the broken Foster system, yet she’d survived and joined the Navy then the Department of Corrections. Ram felt a parental protectiveness about her, but in reality, she didn’t need much protecting. Jesse's life experiences had made her harder and tougher than she should be at her age. Millennials, he chuckled, she was a millennial. He remembered when he’d call his daughter Brit a Millennial, she’d get so pissed at him. Ram could only imagine what Jesse would do if he called her that. “Go to sleep Ram.” Jesse mumbled.
“What?”
“Go to sleep.” She pulled the wool blanket over her head. “I can hear you thinking over there. It’s annoying as fuck.”
“I-”
“We’ll figure shit out in the morning. Go to sleep. Don’t guys your age love naps?” Jesse shifted around under the blanket. “Go to sleep. Take advantage of this down time.”
“Jesse,” Ram threw off his covers and sat up on the bunk, bare feet on the cool floor. “Maybe…” He was suddenly cut off by her soft snoring from underneath the thin blanket. Ram shook his head and thought “it must be nice to sleep like that.” Still wearing the green BDU pants and
T-shirt, he stood up, stretched and quietly walked into the main area. Ram thought he’d rummage through the case of MRE’s for one of those pound cakes. One of the things he really missed at the ass-end of the world was a good cake.
Chapter Nineteen
NECRO DENTISTRY
Sparks, NV
“Fuck!” Webb cursed to himself as he heard gunshots coming from the direction of the Nugget Casino. The mercenary moved out from behind the rear fender of the UN Humvee and glanced over in the direction of the small arms fire. He climbed up onto the rear of the vehicle and glassed the street with his binoculars. “Ah, shit!”
“What’s going on?” Zap asked, staring at the slat covered fence line that provided a barrier between the road and the rail yard.
“Looks like Roman.” Webb said as he watched a large group of infected start to swarm their fellow mercenary. The heavily bearded ex Coastie, angrily spat a wad of chew on the ground. Webb had always liked Roman, dude was a smart ass but easy to work with and the first one to jump up and help out. He was also a greedy little fuck that would steal the gold teeth out of a dead man, woman, or child's mouth. Webb had actually seen him do that when they were travelling through Pahrump. Out of all the crazy shit he’d seen over the past few weeks, that was hands down the worst. Webb had to turn away while his partner did his necro dentistry.
Other than that, Roman was really a good guy.
“Stupid fuck is toast. Hurry up and tell Reese!” He growled down at the bewildered Zap, who was still focused on the crowd of crazies that were now rushing the lone gunman. Webb knew Roman was grossly outnumbered and too far away to be helped without drawing any unwanted attention onto themselves. “You fuck up, that’s what you get.” He mumbled Reese’s familiar words to himself, still watching Roman struggling to fight off the advancing horde.
“Webb.” Reese’s voice was low and even, not wanting to attract any of the infected that may be lurking about. The big mercenary leader strode over to the rear of the Humvee followed by Hobbs and Zap. Glancing up at Webb, who was still watching Roman’s losing battle through his binoculars, Reese rapped his knuckles on the vehicle's sheet metal. “Webb.”
“Boss.” The man dropped the field glasses to his chest and quickly slid off the Humvee. “It’s Roman. Those fuckers got him.”
“Shit.” Reese wiped a calloused hand across his face then reached out in Webb’s direction snapping a finger. The man pulled off the binoculars and handed them down to Reese. The group’s leader walked over to a space in the slatted fence line and using the binoculars, glassed the area where Roman was surrounded by the infected.
“Shit.”
“Are we going to help?” Hobbs asked tightly, grabbing the barrel of his rifle.
“Too late.” Reese said as he watched Roman finally fall beneath a wave of ravenous crazies. Now dozens of the infected were pouring out from areas all around the casino. Quickly dropping the binoculars to his chest he swiftly turned to the other three mercenaries. “Hurry up and get your asses inside. We don’t want those hungry fucks to know we’re even here. Hobbs, get Dutch to fix that front door. Quiet like.”
“Copy that.” The mercenary nodded as he and the rest of the men wasted no time in sprinting toward the temporary safety of the cinderblock building. Following right behind them, Reese just angrily shook his head, more upset by the two men’s failure than their loss. “You fuck up that’s what you get.”
Chapter Twenty
B... BE AWARE!
Outside of Peach Springs, AZ
“How much farther?” Sergeant Woo-Jin asked as he watched corporal Ha-Jun unfold the map against the fender of the black Tahoe SUV. The North Korean soldier, clad in the uniform of a UN peacekeeper, crossed his arms as he watched the corporal plot their course with a thin finger. Woo-Jin smiled, satisfied that his American counterparts would probably be fumbling about at the thought of having to use a map. The greedy Westerners always appeared to rely heavily on GPS and technology to even find their aresholes. Woo-Jin considered that a part of the Supreme Commander’s education of his people, rely on no one but yourself. At least those were the life lessons he’d learned growing up in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.
These Americans had life too easy for far too long.
“There is some kind of maintenance road here,” Ha-Jun dragged his finger down a narrow red line. “It will save us about 30 minutes and take us to the main road.”
“How long from there?” “About an hour, Sergeant.”
“Good.” Woo-Jin glanced over at his other soldiers. Privates Eon-Ji and Jae-Seong instead of providing security, both of them were squatting near the rear of the American vehicle smoking the Western cigarettes and excitedly chatting each other up while Private Dae-Jung stood scanning the surrounding area for any threats. The two soldiers had become increasingly lax in their military bearing over the past few weeks. The Sergeant nodded to himself secure in knowing at least one of his patrol still remembered why they were here. He would shortly deal with the other two soldiers. “Total time?”
“90 minutes?” Ha-Jun shrugged as he easily folded the map back up and jammed it into a pocket in his tactical vest. “It should be dark by then, Sergeant.”
“That will work.” Woo-Jin smiled. They would catch the two Americans off guard and quickly deliver them to Major KI-Moon. Easy mission. Big promotions for all would surely follow. “Go ahead and load up.”
“Sergeant.” Ha-Jun gave him a curt bow and headed over to the driver’s side of the SUV.
“You two!” Woo-Jin shouted over to the two privates that were still squatting and smoking. “Put those fucking cigarettes out and get in the vehicle!”
“Sergeant!”
“Sergeant!” Both men dropped the cigarettes and quickly stood up, grabbing their M4’s and other gear they’d had lying next to them.
“Pay attention to Private Dae-Jung!” He growled at them. “He’s ready to face the enemy. You two aren’t even ready to deal with a bunch of school girls!” He slapped Jae-Sung hard across the right cheek. The soldier tried to stifle a scream as he took a step backward. The Sergeant balled up his fist and slammed Eon-Ji in the stomach. The Private let out a loud gasp and almost fell sideways to the ground. Dae-Jung grabbed the soldier under the arm, stopping his fall.
Five Roads To Texas (Book 10): Salvation Page 6
