by Jones, K. J.
But Emily intruded. She leaned down to talk to Phebe. “Ange is looking for you.”
“Is she? Why?”
Peter watched Henderson’s gaze move from Emily’s face to a dangling gold pendant on her necklace. The Star of David.
Phebe stood and followed Emily inside.
“Bye, dear.”
“Buh-bye, dear,” Phebe responded from the doorway.
Peter grinned at Henderson, knowing he saw the pendant. “We got a Jew, too. We’re hoping to find a one-legged Puerto Rican lesbian soon.”
Henderson fought to repress his outrage. His lips disappeared. Eyes grew into slits.
Peter found it amusing. If he had someone to bet with, he’d place a dollar on the man was going to explode within two minutes. Since money was worthless except as toilet paper, the dollar was symbolic of being right.
He contemplated who he could get over here to provoke Henderson. Emily would be too much of a pain in the ass when she got going. Ben was into what this guy could do for them, and anything short of biting off the heads of puppies would make him continue to use the guy … until he could kill him. Mazy was too diplomatic and analytical of human behavior. Angela was the domestic goddess and would probably hit Henderson with the wooden spoon Peter kept hearing about. Or a wrought iron pan. She didn’t have time for such nonsense.
Henderson said, “I think you’re making a mistake, helping these people survive.”
Peter shook his head, wishing Phebe was still here. He really needed Chris. He’d say the stupidest things right out in the open where everyone could hear, and then the hordes could attack Henderson for agreeing. All the while, Chris would laugh at the violence, since he didn’t have football to watch.
But Peter could find no humorous retort to Henderson’s statement. He had no straight man to bounce snarky remarks off.
“How deep does this run for you?” Peter asked, in all seriousness.
“I am proud of the white race.”
Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You didn’t get the memo that the Us versus Them is now the healthy versus the zoms?” He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his head on two upright fingers, playing out the conversation nonchalantly.
“It makes a perfect opportunity.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“You’re already doing your part, besides all of them. Breeding for the white race.”
“Who? What?”
“I hear your wife’s pregnant.”
“Yeah. No. That was an oopsy. Not a strategic maneuver. I’d like to think I apply strategic maneuvers with her, but not the way you’d mean.”
“Do you ever take anything serious?”
“Um. Let me think. No. I couldn’t find a pack of wolves to lead, so I’m stuck with all these two-leggeds.”
Henderson’s eyes showed no amusement whatsoever.
Peter internally cursed his near-death, drug withdrawal brain. It wasn’t working as fast as it used to. He sensed smart-ass things to say, but they were just out of reach to grab. He desperately needed a straight man to fire up the furnace.
Ben walked past.
So, Peter figured he’d make trouble. “Hey, Raven. Henderson says I’m breeding for the white race.”
Ben stopped. A slight shutter. He pivoted around to face them. “Really?”
“Yeah. Is Pheebs a good breeder?”
“I thought you two were breeding superhumans.”
“Our baby will come out roundhouse kicking, I hear.”
“Phebe may have an objection to that kind of birth.”
Peter smiled. “Wouldn’t she?”
“I’m predicting she’ll hurt you during labor.”
“She hurts me all the time.”
“Yeah, right.” Ben’s gaze shifted to Henderson and the twinkle of amusement departed his dark brown eyes. “Sir, what have you discovered through the HAM radio?”
Peter’s brows shot up. Good question. He wished he thought of it.
Ben was trying to quicken the intel gathering process so he could kill Henderson sooner, Peter figured.
“Not much.” Henderson avoided Ben’s gaze. “I gotta go.” He stood.
Jayce was quick to open the door for him. No eye contact with the kid either.
Ben sat in the vacated chair. “Impressions?”
“Oh,” said Peter. “He’s totally lying about radio contact.”
“That’s what I got. Ideas of how to get that intel outta him?”
“Loads. But most are amusing and not practical.”
Ben smiled. “I have those, too. How high can alligators jump from the water?”
“I really wanted him to piss off the Pheebs. Her fight technique is a thing of beauty lately. I can’t even do a split. I tried. It hurt.”
“Gotta go easy on yourself, brother. I could never do a split.”
“We need to get to a hundred percent. With Chris taking a sleeping vacay and me in this state …” He shook his head.
“I do not trust Henderson. I believe we have a fox in the henhouse.”
“Don’t tell Nia.” Peter smiled.
“The neighbors say they barely knew him before the outbreak. He kept to himself.”
“You mean he didn’t have cocktails at the gay house?”
“He really loves them.”
“Oh yeah. That’s obvious.” Peter fell quiet as he thought. “White race, huh.”
“That’s always a comforting thing to hear. We love it.”
“But what does it mean to him? He said it’s an opportunity.”
“He did?”
“Would I make that shit up? Of all the shit I make up, do I usually go there?”
“Fair enough. How do you take it?”
“Could be little man playing big man.”
“Or he really means something by it?”
“Oh God,” Peter wailed. “Not more crazy fucktards with a theme. We haven’t recovered from the last one.”
“Kill him now and play out our chances?”
“That is definitely high up on the options list.”
“We need someone to get into his house. I do not foresee it being me. A little too red for his taste.”
“Yeah. He’s totally into the white meat. Which makes the spy-to-be Matt. Can’t get whiter than him. Except for Mullen, but he’d be useless in this capacity.”
“Mullen’s too civvie for this op. But there’s Pell, too.” Ben chuckled. “Maze and Ange call Pell and Matt organic white boys.”
“What does that mean?”
“They said –” Ben laughed. “—they said they’re farm to table. Can’t get any whiter than that.”
“That’s so true for them. I love it. Does Pheebs know that?”
“Yeah. She laughed. So did Emily. Em suggested Pell get that tattooed to him.”
“Is she his first ethnic?”
“No. Apparently, he dated a Latina once.”
“Good for him.”
Ben shrugged. “You know these Midwest white boys. They get all excited about ethnic.”
“Matt was really excited about Sye. But most guys would be. She was really high on the hotness scale. It’s gotta be Mister Matty and ole Brandy then. You tell Matt.”
“Why not you?”
“We’re having silver back issues.”
“Ah. I see. It’s still going on. Maze and I will sell it to him. Pell will be up for it. He’s keen to prove himself.”
“You two make such a cute leadership team.”
“Shut up, man.” Ben chuckled.
“So cute!” Peter mocked.
“Fuck off.”
“We should …” Peter looked around. His side-kick absent. Chris would be right with him in mocking Ben. He frowned. “Where’s my wife?”
“Inside.”
“Got that. What is she doing?”
“Dunno. Angela will force me to do domestic chores if she sees me. Idle hands and all that.”
“She’s not going w
ith our warrior caste does nothing while at home idea?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Does she really have a wooden spoon?”
“Oh yeah.”
“God. She’s gonna beat me eventually.”
“I’m foreseeing that, too.”
“We are so in the hands of the Southern black women.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “Maze backs her up. Instigates her even.”
“Too bad our only acceptable white woman is a seventeen-year-old girl.”
“Karen?”
“Whatever her name is.”
“She’s too young for the op. It’s gotta be Gleason and Pell.”
“Why are human beings so complicated?”
Ben shrugged. “Been wondering that my whole life.”
Matt stepped out onto the piazza.
“Speak of the golden boy, blue-eyed devil.”
Matt eyed Peter. “Would you quit that dumb shit?”
“It’s as if he is new to me.”
“The grass sod of the yards will have to be taken up.”
“Are you telling us this?”
Brandon stepped out.
“Oh. Him. Farmer Pell.”
Ben chuckled.
“The sod probably has the gas in it,” Brandon said. “I wish we could figure out what kind of gas it was they used back then.”
“No matter what it was, you’re right. It’ll be in the grass. But the grass has to go anyway. Would it have penetrated the water table?”
Emily’s voice from inside. “I doubt so many rats and insects would be alive if it did. And the chickens haven’t keeled over.”
“Phebe and Mullen found veg seed,” said Brandon. “There’s more where that came from.”
“We start the seeds in little pots,” said Emily. “Oh, but we don’t have a grow light. We’d have to find somewhere that gets really good sunlight. Or maybe a greenhouse. One without chickens living in it.”
“Fag boys said there’s more stores further north.”
“Fag boy,” Emily repeated. “Really, Matt?”
“Leave me alone, snowflake.”
“You are impossible. Standing orders, huh.”
Peter said to Ben, “Matt and Henderson could bond over their homophobia.”
Ben stood. “I’ll talk with Maze.”
“You go on and be functional leadership.”
Ben chuckled on his way into the house to find his other half.
Matt glared at Peter.
Peter looked away from the accusing green eyes and watched the chickens peck the grass.
2.
“He’s not in the chain of command anymore,” Matt protested. “I should have been consulted before plans are formed with him.”
“Sergeant Gleason,” Mazy stated. “This op needs to be done and you and Pell are the only ones who can effectively do it. Sorry if that hurts your feelings.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Get into his house. Collect intel.”
“But you want me to cater to his racism?”
“Or his homophobia. You got that in common with him. Do you not?”
Matt blew out air like a pissed off bull.
Ben said, “If he is like how we think, Phebe is also on his shit list.”
“Why would she be?”
“She’s not exactly a passive female, huh?”
Matt eyed him. Ben pushed the button of someone Matt cared about who could be in jeopardy. It was a low blow of manipulation, Matt recognized.
But he saw their point. He and Brandon were the only ones who get into Henderson’s house by invite.
If that plan failed, distract Henderson and break into his house. Plan B.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
3.
They assumed Matt and Brandon were in by their lack of quick return. They had brought cruise ship beer to Henderson’s house.
On the lawn, martial arts training. Peter could only verbally guide from the lounger. Phebe and Mazy were hands-on. All the civilians had to do it. Even Stanton. He was very excited by the possibility of bringing someone down by a twist of their wrist.
“I didn’t know I even had these muscles.” Stanton held a position in a partially squat. Thigh muscles burning. It was first step martial arts training to strengthen the legs.
“You’re doing well,” Angela praised, feeling the thigh burn herself.
“Ooo, look at Manny being all butch.”
“Focus, Stanton,” Peter reprimanded from the piazza.
Phebe stepped into Stanton’s personal space. “You think you’re ready since you’re talking so much?”
“Ange, protect me from the scary woman.”
But Angela laughed.
Eric emerged through the open window. Hair stuck up in a bad bedhead. Blanket wrapped around him.
“You’ve been released again?” Peter asked.
“My door wasn’t locked.” Eric took the second lounger. “My sisters have been talking to me all night.”
Peter’s dark brows raised. “Have they, huh.” He blew out breath.
“How’s Chris?”
Good. A sane question.
“Still in and out as far as I’ve been informed. The doc and his daughter are with him.”
“Where’s Matt?”
“On a secret mission.”
“Okay.”
“Raven’s upstairs in his sniper habitat.”
“Okay. Um, what’s all this?”
“Something you should be involved in.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“You missed the group jog that almost killed people. Mazy and Pheebs led. They’re merciless.”
“Sounds fun.” Eric’s face reflected the opposite of his words.
Peter found Eric’s presence a touch awkward. He didn’t know what to say to the young man. Eric would probably blame him, too, for his losses. Any more guilt and Peter would have to throw himself to Big Moe.
“Eric,” Mazy hollered. “Get outta your jammies and participate.”
“Not happening.”
She studied him. “You and I need to have a talk later.”
“Prefer not that either.”
“Tough shit.”
Peter was glad to not be part of that talk.
Despite being the shortest person, Tyler flipped the adults. Sticks as knives, he disarmed them in a blink of an eye.
Stanton and Manuel stepped further and further away from the child.
“Teach me that, Ty,” Nia said.
“Okay. Stand here like this.”
Peter smirked with pride. Back at the marina in North Carolina, he was just introduced to these moves. Now, he was so good, he could teach another.
“Target practice before we go into ZCQC,” Mazy announced. “And when we begin that, we’ll start with the less-lethal female zoms first. Even he had trouble with the males.” She pointed at Peter.
“Let me try on you,” Nia said to her brother as she took his arm.
He whipped it away. “Hell no.”
“I gotta practice on someone bigger than me.”
“There’s a lot of people here, Nie.”
“You’re an idiot, Jayce Jackson.”
“Maybe. But a smart idiot.”
“Contradiction.”
“Pay attention.”
“Try on me,” Robert said. “I know how to fall.”
“Here he goes again,” Stanton said to Manuel. “Playing soldier.”
Eric asked Peter, “Did he really say that?”
“He’s bitchy.” Peter shrugged. “Especially about his cousin.”
“Scuttlebutt is Henderson’s a white supremacist.”
“Scuttlebutt? Look at you, Eric the Red Wong. Getting into the lingo.” Peter swigged water. “We are going to find out when Matty and Brandy-poo return.”
“Oh. So that’s the secret mission.”
“Yup.”
“I don’t like white s
upremacists.”
“Would be really weird if you did like them.”
“Yeah.” Eric scowled. “I guess so.”
Peter chuckled.
“Aren’t Asians left out of that, since we’re smarter than white people?”
Peter’s chuckle turned into a belly laugh.
“Am I wrong?”
“I’ll give you that stereotype. And raise you one. We’re better at violence.”
“No. Not seeing that. I call you. Imperial Japanese, World War Two.”
“Damn. You won that hand.”
“Do they really have a World War Two Browning machine gun?”
“The gay house, yeah, that’s what they tell me, too. It was used in the Korean War, maybe Vietnam, too. A definite antique.”
“That’s so random.”
“This place is like a rain forest of antiques. What’s amazing is Robert there makes re-use bullets. He has the machinery to make bullets.”
“Ben must be excited.”
“He wants at it. He said something about we may have to do split loads soon.”
“What’s that?”
“Halve the amount of gunpowder in a bullet to make two bullets.”
“Don’t we need the casings and shit?”
“They’re all over the ground here, wifey tells me. And bullets inside of a lot of rotting zoms. I elect her to dig them out. The neighbors say there’s more to the north. But there may be violent survivors up there too. A Mad Max situation.”
“We’re not ready for that.”
“No, sadly, we aren’t.”
“I’ll have to tell my family.”
Peter groaned, “Oh, God.” Eric was doing so well there for a moment.
4.
“Asshole has a generator.” Matt stood as the others sat at the dining room table.
Brandon attacked the food. He reeked of whiskey and beer.
“Good to know,” responded Mazy. “Fuel for it?”
“He’s got a fuel stash,” Matt responded. “On the question of if he’s a white supremacist, big time.”
“He has a Nazi room,” announced Brandon. He then spooned more beans and rice into his mouth.
“Excuse me,” said Mazy. “A what?”
“A room dedicated to Nazi stuff.”
Emily asked, “He’s a neo-Nazi?”
“Yeah. Or some kind of weird-ass collector of Nazi shit.”
Her boyfriend continued to shovel food into his face as she frowned. A neo-Nazi was not something she wanted to hear. Her hand fingered the Star of David pendant.
