by Drew Brown
“Where’s the soldier?”
“He’ll only be a minute. They’re checking t’perimeter. Do you need a hand?”
Budd shook his head, refusing Andy’s offer of help to climb into the back of the truck. Despite the stiffness, his left leg didn’t feel overly bad; not considering a lump of it had been bitten away. Pulling himself inside, he immediately saw the items Andy had laid out for him. There was the chainsaw, the shotgun and the box of shells, but no sign of his rucksack. Andy followed him into the truck and sat down, leaning against the tailgate.
“Do you know what happened to my pack?”
“I think Bogey carried it from t’cabin. It’s round here somewhere. You ready?”
Budd released the latch to open the shotgun’s chamber. It was fully loaded. He snapped it closed and then emptied the box of shells into his pants pocket. “As I’ll ever be.”
Out of sight, at the front of the truck, one of the doors opened and then closed. Budd and Andy exchanged anxious looks. Almost at once, the truck pulled away and steered to the left. The movement allowed Budd a glimpse of Juliette. She was standing in the hangar’s massive doorway and waving after them.
At first I thought she was giving me a good send-off. Like the women did in the ports back in my Marine days—although, in retrospect, I think I deliberately misinterpreted some of those fond farewells.
But then I saw her pointing into the fog...
“Get grease-ball to stop,” Budd said, waving his arm over his shoulder towards the front of the truck.
Andy understood the instruction and scrambled across the truck’s canvas-covered bed to thump the bottom of his fist against the cab.
It took a few seconds of repeated banging, but the truck started to slow. Budd watched Juliette, occasionally glancing in the direction she had pointed.
The white background was devoid of any detail.
The truck stopped.
Budd hopped out onto the concrete road, his hands clasped to the shotgun, and jogged back towards Juliette and the hangar. Bogey was already at her side, his MP-5 at the ready.
“I saw someone, Monsieur Ashby,” Juliette said.
The smart money wasn’t on Santa Claus…
26
“Someone, honey? Or something?” Budd said between deep breaths.
“Someone, Monsieur Ashby,” Juliette said. “They beckoned for me to follow and then they went away.”
This didn’t sound good…
“Really, sweet-thing, I don’t like this at all.”
“Back to the hangar,” Bogey said. He touched his right hand to his collar and spoke into his microphone. “Sanders, get back here. We might have a situation.”
“Let’s do what he says,” Budd said, looking back at the truck. Andy, Sam, and Sanders had covered half of the fifty-foot gap between them.
“But, Monsieur Ashby, I—”
Budd held his finger across his lips. He stared into Juliette’s eyes as she looked at him, a silent question across her face.
“I heard something, too.” Bogey said.
“A voice?”
The soldier nodded.
Budd’s fingers coiled around the shotgun’s stock, his grip growing so tight that his knuckles hurt. He found himself counting his heartbeats like the ticking of a clock.
The air was cold on his skin.
Quiet settled around the entire group once Andy, Sam, and Sanders reached them. The six of them stood still on the concrete, their ears piqued and their eyes flickering around the swirling fog, attracted to the darker patches and unlikely shapes, which were both real and imagined.
Back in the hangar’s cavernous mouth, Father McGee, Jack, and Annabel stood in a line, waiting for something to happen. The old priest had his hands around his silver flask.
“Help us, please,” called a male voice out in the fog.
“Like, did everyone else hear that?”
“Someone’s out there.” Andy said.
“What the hell are they makin’ all that racket for?” Budd said. “It’s enough to wake the dead.”
I thought I was pretty funny. No one else laughed...
“We should check it out,” Andy said.
“I’d prefer if we didn’t, boss.”
“Back to the hangar,” Bogey said. “Right now.”
“I’m with Bogey on this, people.”
“But there are people out there,” Juliette said. “We should help them.”
“Help me,” cried the voice again. It had a slight accent that Budd thought sounded somewhat familiar.
I kept that to myself...
“Not like this,” Bogey said. “We’re too exposed. Back to the hangar.”
“Time’s up,” Sanders said, snapping his MP-5’s extended stock into his shoulder. “Movement, two o’clock.”
Budd gulped with fear as he steered his vision to where the soldier had indicated. A dark shadow staggered out of the white backdrop only thirty feet away from them.
Budd pulled Juliette’s hand, urging her to step back.
She held firm and squeezed his fingers in return. “Is that the man from the apartment, Monsieur Ashby?”
Budd squinted, trying to focus. The figure stumbled closer, waving his arms over his head. “You’re right, cupcake. That’s Danek.”
“Help me, please,” Danek cried. He swayed for several moments and then collapsed.
Andy reacted first and rushed over to the fallen man, ignoring the two soldiers’ calls to stop. Sam hesitated, glancing between Bogey and Sanders, but then he ran after Andy.
Sanders swore.
Personally, I was happy where I was.
Well, as happy as I was likely to be anywhere that didn’t have armed guards, walls, central heating, and a well-stocked mini-bar...
Juliette’s soft skin slipped through Budd’s fingers and she followed Sam, running with her usual ease and grace. Her rolled-up sleeve unraveled to cover her bandaged forearm.
Sanders and Bogey set off at a fast pace, sweeping the area with their MP-5s, their boots falling in measured steps upon the crisp grass.
Budd sighed and then followed after them, his pace hampered by the tenderness at the top of his left thigh. He threw out his leg in an exaggerated limp, one that hadn’t been so obvious when he’d run from the truck.
Putting it on?
Me…
27
Danek was back on his feet before Andy reached him.
Even from twenty feet behind, it was clear to Budd that the Pole had been through a tough time. His track-suit bottoms were caked in wet mud and his red T-shirt was torn. One of the sleeves was missing, the threads draped like pencil lines along his well-defined biceps.
There was a long, jagged cut below his left eye, and others across his forearms and hands. Droplets of blood fell from his fingertips. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.
Well, by that point, none of us looked our best. Except for Jack—he still looked good, what with his gravity-defying spiky hair.
Oh, and me. Obviously. But you knew that, right?
Why are you laughing?
No, Danek’s injuries and ruined clothes were pretty much unremarkable. However, the fact that Minka—his Siamese-twin-come-girlfriend—was nowhere to be seen, was a much better indicator that he hadn’t stopped for a picnic in the woods…
As Andy neared Danek, the man waved his arm in the direction he’d come from. “Please help her,” he said. “I can’t carry her more.”
Andy ran on, heading deeper into the fog.
Sam and Juliette reached Danek almost at once. The Californian placed his hand on the injured man’s shoulder, offering support. “Dude, like, what happened?”
Danek exhaled heavily, the throaty breath changing into a spurt of relieved laughter that ended with him coughing several times. “We must go back. The others waiting.”
Bogey reached Danek and kept going, his eyes locked on Andy’s back as the maintenance man ventured further away. From Budd’s pos
ition at the rear of the group, the two men were soon lost in the fog.
Sanders drew alongside Sam and stopped. He was shorter than the Californian, but his tanned complexion and chiseled features made him much more imposing. “Where have you come from?” he said, addressing Danek.
“We must help others. Minka is hurt. There is a pub. They are trapped,” Danek said, his words tumbling from his mouth in an almost constant stream.
“Are you bitten?” Sanders asked.
Danek shook his head. “You must help.”
“I’m sorry,” Sanders said. “There isn’t time.”
“My Minka is there,” Danek shouted. “She is hurt. They are close. I must go back with help.”
Sanders stood impassively.
Anger flashed across Danek’s face. He lunged at the soldier, swinging a clenched fist.
It wasn’t a great plan...
Sanders’ retaliation was swift.
The soldier sidestepped, dodging the Pole’s clumsy aggression, and then struck the exposed back of Danek’s neck with his left forearm.
Danek dropped to his knees and buried his face into the palms of his hands. He started to sob.
“Like, what do you mean, we don’t have the time?” Sam asked, turning to Sanders. “He said there’re people out there, dude. We have to help.”
“I agree, Monsieur Ashby.” Juliette said.
Sanders turned away and activated the microphone on his collar. “Bogey, you handle this. I’m resuming the mission to the mansion. Send the maintenance guy back. He might be useful. Over.”
Budd stood a few feet away from the group, the shadowy outline of the hangar looming behind him. He looked around the fog, uncomfortable with being out in the open.
Juliette knelt at Danek’s side and stroked her hand down his arm. “Please, who is trapped? Are they close?”
I could see where this was goin’.
And I didn’t like it…
“Dude, like, don’t worry. We’re totally gonna help you.”
“Mister Ashby,” Sanders said. “Back to the truck. We’re short on time.”
“I know,” Budd said.
“No, Monsieur Ashby. You cannot go.”
Budd held up his hands. “Honey, if there was time...”
“You as well,” Sanders said, motioning with his MP-5 for Sam to return to the truck.
The Californian shook his head.
Movement in the fog caught Budd’s attention, and he watched as Bogey and Andy materialized from the white background. The maintenance man had a third person clutched to his chest.
The injured person’s head lolled with Andy’s footsteps.
As the three grew closer, Budd recognised Andy’s burden as the tattooed woman, who he’d last seen waving from the boat as they’d left the river.
Old Father beard-face had said she was dead—so I guessed that he’d been wrong. But not that wrong…
Andy had one arm hooked beneath the tattooed woman’s shoulders and his other scooped beneath her knees. The flesh had been torn from the left-hand side of her face.
Her ear was nothing more than a stump.
I don’t think I ever knew her name.
Maybe someone did say it one time; perhaps I just wasn’t paying attention. I guess the apocalypse can make a guy’s mind wander. Although, over the years, I’ve spent more significant time with plenty of women whose names I never learned, so the whole apocalypse thing might just be a bad excuse on my part.
I’m not coming off very well here, am I?
Anyway, seeing the injuries that the extremely pro-feminist, tattooed, arm-wrestling champion had suffered, there didn’t seem a whole lot of point trying to build bridges then...
“Quickly, I need somewhere to lay t’girl,” Andy said as he hurried by the group around Danek. He headed towards the hangar, his pace a trade between speed and keeping the tattooed woman steady.
Sanders held out a flat palm to stop Bogey. “Bitten?” he asked.
Bogey nodded.
Budd watched as Sanders let his MP-5 swing back onto its shoulder strap. The soldier slipped a combat knife from out of a sheath on his belt and then he marched after Andy’s fading image.
Both Juliette and Sam’s attention had remained with Danek, who was now crying in a heap upon the damp grass. Neither one saw the soldier leave.
I didn’t bring attention to what I’d seen. There were no prizes for guessing what was coming...
Budd made to kneel beside Juliette, but the stiffness at the top of his leg caused him to change his mind. She looked up at him and brushed a strand of loose hair away from her eyes. “Monsieur Ashby, we must help the others. Do you know where he could mean?”
As a matter of fact...
Budd shook his head. “It don’t ring any bells.”
“I can take you there,” Danek said, wiping tears away from his red, puffy eyes. “It is not far. She is in a flat above pub.”
“Everyone back to the hangar,” Bogey said. His voice was calm but authoritative.
Juliette cast the soldier a quick look and then turned back to Budd. “I will go and look.”
“No you won’t, sugar. There ain’t time.”
“We will make time, Monsieur Ashby. We can go while you go with the soldiers.”
Sam pulled the sleeves of his T-shirt over his elbows. “Juliette, I’ll come with you,” he said.
I bet you’d like that…
“Thank you, Sam.”
“Anyway, dude, what’s the hurry? We’ve got, like, all the time in the world, haven’t we?”
Budd shrugged his shoulders. “It’s complicated.”
Which wasn’t a lie. But I wasn’t gonna explain it in any detail. I was on thin ice as it was...
“Listen, pumpkin,” Budd said. “That’s a terrible idea. What if we get back here first and are followed by a conference-center worth of those things? I don’t think they’ll get in line with their passports.”
Juliette took a deep breath. “That is my choice.”
“You’d risk a chance to escape to try and save some people who are probably dead already?”
I knew the answer...
“Yes, of course, Monsieur Ashby. You would do the same, but I think you are trying to keep me safe.”
Budd shook his head. “You got me all wrong, sister. I just want outta here.”
“I do not think so, Monsieur Ashby.”
“Well, honey, get ready to be really disappointed.”
Which is the effect I’ve had on many women over the years…
Bogey cocked his head, his interest piqued by the tiny speaker in his ear. Without saying a word, he ran back towards the hangar.
“Like, where’s he going?”
Budd adjusted his grip on his shotgun, raising the twin-barrels away from the ground as the fog swallowed Bogey’s black uniform. He felt suddenly exposed without the soldier’s firepower. There was little to distinguish one direction from the other, apart from where their back-and-forth movements had trampled the grass. “Gimme a hand with Danek,” he said to Sam.
Danek climbed to his feet without any help. “I am okay,” he said. “Please, help me. My Minka is waiting.”
“Dude, we’ll help. Maybe Sanders will let us take the truck, or maybe fix another one for us to use. I saw a whole cabinet of spare parts, like, I dunno, like someone had planned for this or something.”
“You have truck?” Danek said.
“Yes, we do,” Juliette answered. She turned to Budd. “Will you talk to the soldiers, Monsieur Ashby? I am sure that they will listen to you.”
I really hoped not…
“I’ll try,” Budd said. “But can we at least get moving?”
“Yes, Monsieur Ashby.”
28
Budd turned and strode off along the track of flattened grass. Juliette took a few quick steps to catch him, but Sam and Danek lagged behind, the Pole hampered by his injuries.
Ahead of them, Budd saw the dark shape of
the hangar bulging from the white fog. Running across it was the gray streak of concrete. Andy was standing in the middle of the road and had laid the tattooed woman out behind him.
Sanders and Bogey stood facing Andy, the first soldier a few steps ahead of his comrade. Budd saw the glimmer of steel in Sanders’ right hand.
“Move away now,” the soldier said.
“I’ll not let you harm t’girl,” Andy said.
“She’s already dead. You’ve seen what happens.”
“People can be saved,” Andy said. “You gave Budd an’ Juliette that injection an’ now they’re fine.”
I couldn’t help but think that ‘fine’ was a very strong word…
“And you know it’s all gone,” Sanders said. “You saw the empty briefcase. There’s nothing we can do.”
“We could make more.”
Sanders shook his head. “The formula died with Deacon. And there wouldn’t even be time.”
“I’ve tried so hard,” Andy said. “But we’ve lost so many. I can’t fail again.”
“All we can do is make this easy for her,” Bogey said. “That’s all we’re trying to do. Keep everyone safe and make this easy for her. She won’t know a thing about it. Please, Mister. Step away.”
Budd stopped alongside Sanders. He noticed that Father McGee, Jack, and Annabel were watching from the mouth of the hangar.
Andy looked at him. “Budd, we can’t let them hurt t’girl. It’s not right.”
“No, it ain’t,” Budd said with a shrug of his shoulders. “But I don’t see another choice, boss.”
