Zombie Fallout 14

by Mark Tufo

“To stop this or to see what we were doing?”

  “Little of both,” Overland replied.

  Four MP cars came rushing up, lights blaring, guns drawn, orders being given.

  “Nice of you to show,” I told Master Sergeant Wassau.

  “You know how it is, nowhere around when you need us. We were conveniently on the far side of the base, a bit too conveniently, checking on a spate of false calls.”

  “I wonder who that was.”

  “Got to admit I was surprised when I saw her back,” Wassau said.

  I immediately looked at Overland. He said nothing.

  “You actually listened to a commanding officer?” Wassau asked, slightly amazed.

  “Speaking of, we’ve got the ringleader of this circus penned up at our tent. Lieutenant Colonel Gadsen.”

  “You’ve got Iron Pants?”

  “Iron Pants?” I asked.

  “It’s a starch thing…they say his freshly ironed pants can stand on their own.”

  “Damn shame when your only nickname revolves around your clothing choices,” I replied.

  “Better than certain orifices,” BT tossed out there.

  I heard Stenzel laugh through my headset. Tommy laughed. There was humor there, and it was needed, but also some sadness within me that we were now so used to battles and dealing death that we were already looking past those we had taken down. It was a defense mechanism; killing other humans is not something that comes naturally, or, at least, it shouldn’t. Certainly, it shouldn’t be so easily dismissed. In this case, ignoring it was for the best. Even I’m wise enough to realize it is difficult to feel any sympathy or empathy for those that wished to do you harm. But the kill or be killed adage had become almost a motto for us.

  “Can I get the run down on what happened here?” Wassau asked.

  “Okay. Deneaux lured Gadsen into her mad plot, he fell completely for it, and most of the people with him were given false information to join in his crusade,” I said.

  “There’s a reason Gadsen was behind a desk; the man couldn’t lead a marching band. His only field mission ended in disaster for his platoon. Thirty of his forty-two men died, and somehow, he still ended up with a medal,” Wassau said as he walked over to Stromski.

  “How is that possible?” Tommy asked, although I felt like I already knew the answer.

  “Easier to say he saved twelve men by covering the whole mess up with an award than court-martialing him for losing the others by walking into an obvious trap because he was sure that he could overwhelm the inferior enemy. So, instead of kicking the captain out, they promoted him to Major.”

  “Bennington must have known this,” I said.

  “Oh, he did. That’s why he’s the XO and reports directly to Bennington. Better to have a tight leash, plus, if you haven’t noticed, it’s end-times and there are not many options out there these days.”

  “What a fucking mess.” Sorrens had popped his head into the van and back out again. “We cool?” he asked me.

  “You can’t already need new stock, can you?” I asked, his face turned beet red.

  “Fuck you.” He walked away.

  “Hey! It’s, fuck you, Lieutenant!”

  “I’ll remember that for next time,” he said without turning around.

  “Where’s the rest of your squad?” I asked Overland.

  “Reed was gut-shot.” He held up his hand. “Had a vest on, but he’s hurting like hell. Sergeant Walde took him to the hospital. The vest will stop a bullet, but it’s like being punched in the gut by Superman.”

  “If trouble were metal, you’d be a magnet,” Wassau said to me as he was checking pulses.

  “For like the tenth time tonight, I was eating spaghetti. I did absolutely nothing to instigate this. Could you maybe get Gadsen out of my residence? The longer he stays there the more likely I am to take matters into my own hands.”

  “If this is Deneaux’s doing, he’s either going to be out or dead by tomorrow,” Tommy said.

  “Dead would be better.” That was my honest assessment. One less co-conspirator on a base full of them.

  “You’re not going to do anything to facilitate that are you?” Wassau asked.

  “Not me, but you’ve got to figure Gadsen is probably a smoking gun to Deneaux, and she’s not going to suffer him long. You might want to make sure your building isn’t rigged.”

  “Comforting.”

  A troop transport truck showed up next and started bagging up the bodies; me and my team left just as they got started. Hillers was with us.

  “He was going to shoot me, wasn’t he?” she asked, though she knew the answer. “He shot Beeling, without hesitation.”

  Figured that to be the person Stromski shot. “Safe bet he would have done that to any of us,” I said. Don’t think it made her feel any better.

  “That’s who I was fighting with; alongside, even.” She seemed to be doubting everything she previously knew.

  “No way to know the inner workings of a person’s heart until they’re forced to show it,” Tommy offered.

  When we got back, I noticed that Gadsen had nearly an entire roll of tape wrapped around his head.

  “He wouldn’t shut up, sir,” Kirby offered in defense.

  Gadsen’s nostrils were flaring, his eyebrows furrowed in anger. He strained against his bonds when he saw us.

  I walked up to him. “You just sent another four people to an early grave.” He sagged, doubt it was from the guilt, but rather that the plot had not worked. He didn’t seem to be the kind that cared for his underlings, especially if they failed him.

  Wassau and Sorrens came in a couple minutes later to gather up Gadsen.

  “Where are the rest?” he asked.

  “Rest of what?”

  “Major Overland said there was another team.”

  “He’s the only one we caught.” I could feel Hillers looking at me as I spoke.

  “You realize I’m a cop, right, Lieutenant? I can smell bullshit while it’s still working its way down a bull’s ass.”

  “Must be a specialty of yours,” I told him.

  “Have it your way; I’m done trying to figure out what you do.”

  “Me? I’ve lost sleep at night thinking about your kale burgers.”

  “I don’t eat…forget it. Next time I see you, you’d better have something for me to drink. Let’s go, Colonel. Got a nice cozy cell for you.” He wrapped his arm under the other and lifted him. Gadsen was mumbling something; wouldn’t swear it, but I think I saw something like fear in his eyes.

  “Master Sergeant, I think you might want to let him speak. Corporal Hillers, could you go upstairs and check on the rest of the group?” I wanted her out of there before Gadsen could start trying to drag everyone down with him. I’d deny her involvement, of course, but Wassau was right; he had a cop’s eye for details and would be able to see through her nervousness.

  “Yes, sir.” She and the others left.

  I thrust my chin out for Kirby to follow. He didn’t say anything as he, Grimm and Rose followed. Yeah, I was a pretty happy camper as Gadsen winced at every pull of that super sticky tape. Wouldn’t have bothered me in the least if it had ripped off a fair portion of his skin to go with the hair. Maybe his lips as well. Fuck him.

  “Everything all right?” Tracy asked. She’d come down; it was easy enough to see I wasn’t quite in sorts. Difficult to have just killed a man and then come back to this seeming normalcy, have another piece of garlic bread. Strange overlay of events.

  “It will be,” I lied. BT had not stayed with us, but instead had retreated up. I understood the desire to be away from this.

  “Ready for this? Anything you want to add?” Wassau asked as he got to the last lap around with the tape.

  “Nope, I’m good,” I answered, tight-lipped.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Master Sergeant. Arrest this man and everyone in this building. We were attacked,” Gadsen fumed.

  “He’s right,” I stated
. “They were out on a leisurely stroll through the Barrows, and we decided that an active war game using live rounds sounded like the perfect way to end our evening meal.”

  “I’m not able to use sarcasm in my reports, Lieutenant, so I’d appreciate a revised statement,” Wassau said.

  “Dickhead over there…I mean him,” I pointed, “came here in two vans, armed and ready to do combat. We intercepted them before they were able to do any real damage. You’ve seen the results.”

  “That is not what happened, Master Sergeant.”

  “Come on, Colonel; we’ll get this sorted out at the station. You’ll have your say, sir,” Wassau said to him as they headed for the door.

  “I’ll see you at your court-martial, Lieutenant.”

  “Got a feeling you won’t make it,” I told him.

  “That a threat? Did you hear him, Master Sergeant? He just threatened my life!”

  “Listen, dipshit, if I wanted you dead, you would have never made it in here. Just remember that when the devil you made the deal with twists a knife in your gut. She is a lot less forgiving than I am, and for some reason, on this one, I think she’s right. A dead enemy can never come back on you—something I continually fail to grasp.”

  Wassau gave me a nod of the head as they left.

  Tommy lightly clapped my back and rubbed my shoulder for a moment before following the others up. I sat down at a table and let my head sag in what I thought was an empty room. Somehow in my hazed misery, I’d lost track of my wife.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I was jolted. “No,” I said softly. She didn’t press it any further, just sat down next to me quietly. After a while, she reached her hand out, which I gratefully took. A lone tear slowly made its way down my cheek. I wiped it away with my free hand.

  “No matter what happens or has happened, Talbot, you are a good man.”

  I was having a difficult time believing her. If I was so damned good, why was everyone trying to kill me?

  8

  Mike Journal Entry 7

  Can’t say the next morning I was chipper, or even anything that could be compared to that mood, but there’s something about the fresh light of day that can chase the shadows in your soul away, or at least make them retreat into the corners. I’d gone downstairs and outside, and was doing an obligatory walk around the block.

  “I know you’re there.”

  “Only because I wanted you to know,” Tommy said, coming out from the building where Overland had staged his mission.

  “You tailing me?”

  “Just keeping an eye out.”

  “Something I should know?”

  “Probably, Mr. T, but if I told you, would you listen to my advice?”

  “I mean, maybe.”

  He kept staring at me.

  “Fine, no. Was thinking of heading to the hospital today.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Visit Major Dylan. Again with the staring? Fine. And to size up the defenses around Dewy and Springer. Why are you still staring?” He kept it up for another few seconds.

  “I figured if I kept doing it, you’d admit to something else.”

  “You been talking to Tracy?”

  He laughed then we walked in silence as the base around us was bustling with a nervous urgency. The stink of the damned was already settling upon us. We’d be at war again soon. It seemed that, in our desire to save our species, we had instead hastened our demise. Amazing how many times Man had tinkered with nature and then fallen back in stunned silence as our hubris, intermingled with our ignorance, had blown up in our faces. I mean seriously; we’re the same species that created a website devoted to the most unusual and stupid ways people have died. Says a lot; never really seen a tiger bite the dust by welding his testicles to a train car.

  “The major’s office is that way,” Tommy told me as we entered the hospital.

  “Don’t want anyone to see us together,” I told him as we went in the opposite direction.

  “Oh, I bet that was her call.”

  “You realize if I wanted to catch shit all day, I would have asked BT to come along.”

  “Just picking up the slack, Mr. T. Where to?”

  “Top floor. That way, Dewey can broadcast his signal better,” I said sourly.

  Upstairs was nearly devoid of all people, making our visit even more questionable. We’d just rounded a corner when four armed guards came towards us. Couldn’t run without raising suspicion.

  “Lieutenant Talbot. Can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you, but we were warned you’d make an appearance.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t do autographs,” I told him as they walked up and encircled us.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “What’s with all the ninja outfits lately?” I asked no one in particular. He, like the other three, were in all-black uniforms with no names or insignia. “This is like Imperial Japan.”

  “Don’t.” Tommy shook his head.

  “I’m just distracting them while…” I drove my left elbow square into the jaw of the man who’d been talking. There was a part of me that felt bad when I heard the crack and I’m being honest when I hoped it was just a tooth and not his jaw. Tommy was on the move before my elbow had even made contact. He did something that looked like a Vulcan death grip, the guard to his immediate right just folded in on himself like a sheet of wet cardboard that had been standing up on edge. The guard behind me was pulling on his sidearm when I punched him flush in the nose; blood sprayed out like a ketchup packet under a tire. His hands went up to defend the injured area; I hit him with a roundhouse punch to the temple that hurt both of us, though I didn’t fall to the ground. Tommy was gently easing his second victim down.

  “Notice anything different?” Tommy asked as he pointed to my two bodies and his. Mine were coated in a lot of facial blood; his looked like they were comfortably taking an afternoon nap.

  “Luck of the draw, I suppose.”

  “Did you intend for this to happen?”

  “When opportunity knocks, it’s prudent to answer the door,” I told him as I was grabbing the keycards.

  “It didn’t knock. You went to its house, dragged it out of bed, and slammed its head into the wall to make a knocking noise.”

  “You can’t always wait for it to show.”

  “You have problems, Mr. T.”

  “Just help me drag them into an empty room.”

  We entered an unoccupied exam room. I spent a few seconds debating changing into their clothes; for whatever reason, decided not to.

  “Now what? Forget I asked,” Tommy said as we walked down the hallway, I was trying not to look like I didn’t belong, which, instead, made it look like I had a gaming console shoved down my pants and was trying to walk out of the store before anyone noticed. We took another turn; there was a sign on a stand that read that only authorized personnel were allowed past that point. The doors at the end of the corridor were painted red, and a guard, armed with a machine gun, stood there, looking alert but also bored. On top of that already menacing premise, was the nice sandbag bunker he could immediately hide behind if anyone attacked. Tommy and I were just standing there, taking it all in.

  “This isn’t Mount Rushmore, get the fuck out of here,” the guard said, implying we were sightseeing. (I suppose that was clear enough, but just for clarification.)

  “I’d rather see Mount Fuji,” I told him.

  “He has a machine gun, Mr. T.”

  “T as in Talbot? Heard you’d be coming,” the guard said, his rifle up, firmly buttressed against his shoulder.

  “This is important. Were you told to shoot on sight or just report and repel my presence?”

  “I could do both, if you think that would be prudent,” the guard answered. “What’s with the hip…” that was all he said. I’d heard him talking, a tang behind my head, then the solid thwap of a ball bearing striking a forehead.

  “Oops…didn’t mean to do
that,” Trip said. “I was just trying to get the wrapper off my marshmallow peeps.”

  He was indeed holding a package of yellow Peeps in the same hand as his slingshot.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, even as I was running down the hallway to make sure the guard wasn’t merely dazed and would stand up, spraying the entire area with bullets. I know if someone dented my head with a metal marble, I’d be shooting everything in sight as payback.

  “I got a paper cut; I was going to see if I could get a couple of Xanax for it.”

  The guard was out cold; he had a knot forming on the front of his head that was threatening to become much more substantial than his nose. I didn’t like the fact that his finger was still on the trigger; reflexes could have chopped us down.

  “Rant rone?” Trip showed me a mouthful of yellowy goo-ness as he tried to speak. In his extended hand were four marbles.

  “Gonna pass…those are bad for your teeth,” I told him as he shrugged and put them back in his pocket. I gently pulled the guard's finger from the trigger before I grabbed the gun and put it on safe. “Saved my bacon back there.” No fucking idea at all why I gave him a colloquialism; I guess I’m into torture.

  Tommy came to my rescue. “Not real bacon,” he told the man before he could hound me for where it was.

  “Trip, head back home.” I peeked my head up to look through a little window; I could see a set of double doors some five feet ahead and nothing else, as the window on that side had been covered.

  “Home is where the heart is,” he said.

  “Okay, great.” I moved over to the key reader.

  “My heart is here, ergo, this must be home.”

  “Ergo?” The light on the keypad turned green; an electronic click let me know I’d now gained permission to enter. I pulled the door open.

  “You going to shoot someone?” Tommy asked. I was still holding the gun.

  “Just Dewey.” I strode the five feet, opened the double doors. “Shit,” I said as I looked around, the place was empty except for Colonel Bennington, sitting in a chair. He had glasses on and was reading a book. I think it was The Stand, of all things. I slung the rifle over my shoulder.