The Gordian Event: Book 1 (The Blue World Wars)

by Lee Deadkeys

  “Do you think Ox is okay?” She asked, almost reluctantly. “Feel free to lie your ass off.”

  With everything that had happened to them in such a short amount of time, Mason was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t given the big man’s well-being much thought. He considered it now, careful with his wording. “You know, I think he is. He’s a tough nut, I’m sure he’s fine.” He thought she would challenge this but instead she only nodded silently against his chest.

  There was a faint knock at the door. Frank entered without being invited. He looked older, haggard, as if years had passed instead of a few days.

  “Mason, I need to talk to you… in private.” He nodded toward Jess.

  She took a deep head-clearing breath and brought his ear to her lips. “Let me be the one to tell them, ok? Please,” she whispered and then drew back so she could look at him. He sighed and nodded once.

  She gave him a small smile, stood and touched his face before turning away. Frank placed a hand on her arm as she passed. She paused but didn’t look up, patted his hand with her own and left them alone.

  Mason reached under the bed for his boots as Frank moved to the window and peeked through the blinds. He forced his foot into one square-toed boot, then the other. He had never felt comfortable talking to another man in his bare feet. Maybe it was the same for all men because only after he’d pulled the legs of his jeans over the tops of his boots did Frank turn around. “We got a problem.”

  “Just one?” Mason said as he stepped into the bathroom a few feet away.

  “You sound like Jess, same smartass remarks.”

  Mason zipped up and ran water over his hands before splashing some on his face. “What is it, Frank?” He asked as he roughed a towel across his face.

  Frank turned back to the window, grasped the cord for the blinds and pulled slowly. Frank pointed out the window but didn’t say anything.

  From this angle, he didn’t have a clear view outside and judging from the look on Frank’s face, he didn’t know if that was a bad thing.

  Frank waited patiently, arm still outstretched, finger shaking slightly. A knot formed in Mason’s gut, twisting and tightening into an ache. He was tempted to tell Frank to get the hell out of his bedroom. Instead, he moved over toward the window and looked out. He instantly regretted it.

  “Oh, shit!” was all he could say.

  Mason’s backyard butted against a dirt alley which connected the residential roads. Through a six-foot chain link fence, he watched a group of three people, none that he recognized from the night before, shuffle up the alley, their faces torn and mutilated to varying degrees.

  A very large woman in a banana-yellow muumuu struggled after the others. Mason thought her weight alone would have caused difficulty moving in the early morning heat, regardless of the huge chunk of flesh missing from her calf. The woman stopped abruptly and went to her knees. Without turning the three people in the group stopped as well.

  “What are they doing? What’s wrong with her?”

  Mason jumped and turned to see Sam Story standing between him and Frank. He’d been so focused on the people outside that he hadn’t heard the man come up behind them.

  “I don’t know,” Mason said. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to get creeped the fuck out.”

  “Look. I think it’s her heart,” Frank said. Mason turned back to the window in time to see the woman fall face first in the dirt of the alley. “Timber,” Frank said quietly.

  Dust, kicked up from the woman’s impact, began to settle lazily back around her. Her three companions stood with their backs to her like ragged guardians.

  “Well, what are they waiting fo—” Sam started and then stopped. The woman’s body began to quiver, a tremor moving just under the skin.

  The other three walked backward, stopping less than a foot from the dead woman. A moment later, a greenish-black goo seeped from beneath the yellow fabric of the muumuu. It spread over her body in a ghoulish sludge and then slowly began creeping along the ground toward the others. It pooled around their feet before lazily crawling up their bodies and disappearing into any opening available, whether there by design or injury.

  “Jesus Christ!” Sam swore. “Is it just me, or is that fucking stuff alive?”

  Mason let the question soak in and mingle with questions of his own. “Alive.” He said more to himself, seeing how it held up on its own.

  Frank eyed him closely. “You’re starting to think it could be too?”

  Mason shook his head, not knowing what to think. “I don’t know, Frank. Does it really matter if it is?”

  Frank scratched at his stubbly chin for a moment. “I think it wouldn’t hurt to find out as much as we can about it. Might help us fight it or, hell, just survive it.”

  Mason bit back a retort of misdirected anger. After all, it wasn’t Frank he was mad at, but rather their situation. Frank was just as lost and confused as the rest of them. They were all feeling it, the bitterness and helplessness.

  “I say we work on how long we can hold out in here before we go worrying about killing that shit out there,” Sam said over his shoulder as he left the room.

  “Dear God! What on Earth does anyone need with that many guns?” Sam asked as he walked into the living room and saw Jess unloading weapon after weapon from a black bag on the floor.

  Jess snapped her head toward him, “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Sam frowned, irritated. The woman kneeling on the floor had a caustic tongue and he was quickly becoming sick of it. She stood up and Sam readied himself for a confrontation.

  “Seriously, you are joking, right?” Jess said. “Why do people always ask those stupid questions? Have you been that conditioned to think protecting yourself is optional, or are people really that stupid?”

  “Look, you want to watch your tone. I’m all for the right to keep and bear arms, but this seems a little extreme. Those rifles look like military issue, are they even legal? I mean, you’re a civilian.”

  Mason shook his head, “Mister, you should’ve just kept your mouth shut. ‘Laws for thee, not for me’, doesn’t set well here. You won’t win this one, not in my house.”

  Sam opened his mouth to argue when Jess sighed and said, “Let’s just drop it. I don’t have the energy to deal with you and those things outside.”

  “Fine, whatever,” Sam huffed and fell into a chair.

  “Ok, so we have the gun and ammo situation under control. What about food and water?” Frank asked, grateful that an argument had been averted. He looked over the small cache of food on the table along with the empty soda and juice bottles they had filled with water.

  “I think we need to make a run on the grocery store and get some more supplies. We have enough here for a couple days if we ration, but it won’t last forever. We can try to find out what happened and how bad it is out there while we’re at it.”

  Mason nodded, “Sounds like a good plan.”

  It was agreed, despite ample protest from Jessica, that the men would make up the scouting party. The front door proved difficult after the frenzied battering it had taken the night before, but after some effort and the use of a wedge they were finally able to pry it open.

  Frank looked out cautiously, Springfield 1911 held at the ready. Seeing that the streets looked clear, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “As soon as we cross the street and give the thumbs-up, shut the door,” Frank said to his frowning daughter.

  “Yeah, but not too tight,” Sam said. “We may need to get back in a hurry and I don’t want to be out here, torn to itty-bitty pieces while you’re fumbling with a stuck door.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “You honestly think I’m going to shut my father and boyfriend out? Keep yourself between the two them and I’ll let you back in. You try to leave one or both behind and I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Sam shot a look at Frank while thrusting a hand toward Jess. “Is she kidding me?! You thin
k I’m setting one foot out of this house with your psycho daughter on door duty, you got to be out of your skull!”

  Frank waved them both off. “Jess, just stop. And Sam, quit taking the bait every time she dangles it in front of you. Grow up, both of you. This is serious.”

  “He’s right. You two at each other is not helping. We need solidarity here,” Mason said as he brushed past the two.

  Neither said anything for a moment.

  “Sorry,” Jess mumbled. “Just take care of each other out there.”

  Sam lowered his head. “Yeah, me too. Solidarity, sister,” he said and offered a hand to Jess. She smiled, shyly. “Solidarity, brother,” She said and shook his hand.

  “The house is laid out exactly like mine,” Mason whispered to the two men as they stood on Mr. Broaden’s lawn. Frank nodded, turned and gave Jess a thumbs-up. She hesitated a moment before returning her own and then shutting the door. She appeared a second later at the window.

  “His keys should be near the door leading to the carport. That was probably the door he came out of last night, so it should be unlocked.”

  “That is if he didn’t have them on him when he… well, you know,” Sam said.

  Mason gave him a cool look but nodded. “Yeah, unless that.”

  They moved quietly and quickly toward the carport, staying low and trying to use the hedges for concealment. There was a gap between the door and the frame and Mason used his shoulder to open it wide enough to enter the house.

  Keeping the Glock 21 in front of him, he scanned the small kitchen and spotted Mr. Broaden’s keys on the counter. “Bingo,” he said and scooped them up, jingling them in his hand to show the others.

  They turned to leave, stopping suddenly as a low grunt and scraping noise froze them in place. Mason turned slowly toward the sound, horrified to see the big black gun trembling in his grip.

  “Run!” Frank urgently whispered in his ear. “We’ll shut it in here.”

  Mason willed his feet to move and took a step backward. He could hear the thing breathing on the other side of the counter as it crawled toward the door. One of the others lightly tugged at his shirt and he flinched, almost firing the weapon into the cheap linoleum.

  The thing snorted and Mason took another step back. His hand reached out and grasped the door, ready to slam it in the thing’s face. “Mr. Broaden?” He called out hesitantly. He had to know.

  At the sound of his voice, the thing moved quickly from behind the counter. His mind struggled to comprehend how a human body could become so distorted, so completely wrong, and then he realized he was looking at an old yellow dog. The second his relieved mind made the connection, the top of the animal’s head exploded.

  The shock of the deafening noise caused Mason to pull the trigger on his gun and another bloody hole opened near the dog’s stomach.

  “No! What the hell are you doing!” Mason yelled, lowering his weapon, the recoil still tingling in his hand.

  Sam grimaced. “I didn’t know it was a dog, damn it!”

  “What did you think it was?! My God, my ears are ringing,” Mason said, his weapon holstered again and a finger plugged in his ear.

  Frank shoved them into the kitchen and closed the door behind them. “For God’s sake, Sam, put that away before you kill something.”

  Mason barked a cruel laugh, “I think it’s too late for that, Frank.” He knelt beside the dog and rested a hand on its side. “Oh, no, poor old Duke.”

  Sam fumbled with the gun and wrestled it into his waistband. His face skewered into a thin twist of regret. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was a dog. Besides, you shot it too.”

  Mason dropped his head, “I know. Damn it, I know.” He stood and stared down at Duke, close to tears. “Damn, damn.”

  “Come on, Mason,” Frank said. “It’s unfortunate, but at least he didn’t suffer and starve to death.”

  “You make a good point, Frank. We probably did that poor dog a favor,” Sam said.

  Mason turned his head slowly, his fist clenched tight. “Shut up, Sam.”

  Sam nodded at the floor, “Yeah, good idea.”

  Frank gave Mason’s shoulder a squeeze. “We need to see if the coast is clear or if the sound of the gunshots brought any of those things. And if Jess heard the shots, I need to let her know we’re okay before she storms over here and shoots us herself.”

  Sam turned and parted the plaid curtains looking out on the carport. “Looks clear from here.”

  Frank moved cautiously into the darkened living room and parted identical plaid curtains. He saw Jess’s head twitching every which way, trying to get a glimpse of them. He raised a hand and she instantly stopped, cupped her hands around her eyes, making contact with the glass.

  Frank gave her a thumbs-up and she dropped her hands, her head slowing shaking back and forth. “We are going to catch hell for this.”

  “Do you see her, Frank?” Mason asked from the kitchen. He pulled a plaid cloth from the table and placed it over Duke’s body. He patted the old dog once more, mostly satisfied with the shroud.

  “Oh, I saw her all right,” Frank said coming back into the small kitchen that stank of black powder and blood.

  “Uh oh,” Mason said with a nervous chuckle.

  Frank raised his eyebrows and whistled, “Yeah, uh oh is right.”

  “Hey guys, I think we need to get going, creepy things a-coming,” Sam said as he checked out the door leading to the carport. Frank and Mason looked at Sam’s back, looked at each other and then rushed over.

  * * *

  Jess paced in front of the living room window, her mind a froth of fury and worry. “What the hell are they doing over there?” She asked the silent, still room.

  “Were those gunshots?” Angel’s voice was weak and concerned. Jess turned from the window and saw that although Angel was very pale, she was conscious and propped up on her elbow.

  “It was, but I think everything is okay now. Dad signaled from the window,” she said and glanced back across the street. The window was still empty. “You look better, how do you feel?”

  Angel tried to sit up, winced and finally lowered herself back down. “I feel like I’ve been dissected and put back together in the wrong order,” Angel said and tried to smile. It was not the smile Jess remembered.

  “Well, we’ll get you fixed up soon enough. Can I get you anything, some water or something to eat?” Jess asked.

  “I would really love an aspirin, or five,” Angel said.

  Jess steeled herself and walked over to the couch. “I don’t think you should have aspirin. The bleeding has pretty much stopped and we want to keep it that way.” She gently lifted the light blanket that lay over Angel. “Although I think you owe Mason a new couch, you really did a number on this one,” Jess said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Angel pulled the blanket from her hand, covered herself again and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were glassy and distant, staring intently at nothing. When she spoke, there was an edge of bitterness in her tone.

  “You have been preparing for something like this to happen for as long as I’ve known you, Jess.”

  Jess involuntarily stiffened. “Something like what, exactly?”

  Angel gestured weakly around. “All of this that’s happening, those things out there, me being injured and useless… all of it, Jess. All of it.” A single tear slid down her cheek and disappeared into her dark hair above her ear.

  Jess huffed. “How in the hell could anyone prepare for those things out there? Nobody even knows what they are, where they came from.” She shook her head. “As for you being injured, I didn’t even know you were pregnant or that….” Jess let the words die; there was no point to this discussion.

  Angel startled her by seizing her wrist. “That’s my point! You’ve spent years preparing for anything and everything! Space aliens drop out of the clear-blue sky? Fear not, Jessica Walker has a weapon for that! Trapped in a burning hospital? Don’t worry, J
ess will MacGyver everyone to safety. Well, not everyone.”

  Angel was practically yelling, her voice surprisingly loud, given her weakened condition. “Not that poor man we left screaming, blind and helpless to be torn apart so that we could—”

  Jess slapped her. Angel blinked, shocked silent.

  “That’s quite enough,” Jess said through gritted teeth. “No one is going to make me feel guilty for saving my life or theirs. You hear me? No one! I won’t apologize for thinking ahead. I will not apologize for trying to defend myself and the people I care about!”

  Jess stood, looming over her.

  Angel laid still, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face. She tried to turn away from Jess, winced and pulled the blanket over her face instead. Her frail form all but disappeared into the couch.

  Jess sighed, the indignation and fury leaving her in a rush. “My God, Angel, I’m so sorry.” She gently tried to pull the blanket away but Angel held it firmly.

  Jess lowered herself onto the edge of the couch and dropped her head in her hands. She wanted to cry.

  “I hated you,” Angel said, her voice muffled. “As much as you hated me, Jess, I hated you.”

  Jess nodded into her hands, exhaustion denying her voice.

  “I dream about it all the time,” Angel said. “About that night. I’m there, Jacob is there of course, but so are you.”

  Jess’s insides felt like torn paper and thorns. She was unaware of her silent weeping.

  “You wave to us, to Jacob and me. Every time I think you are waving hello and like a stupid fool, I wave back, and then Jacob says, ‘something is wrong.’ And then… he’s there, the man that killed my husband… your brother.”

  “Angel, please stop.” Jess’s voice hitched and she found it hard to breath.

  “In my dreams, steam rises from the street like a Michigan morning off the water of Lake Huron. We’re walking and laughing, oblivious to the world around us, trapped inside our happiness. Jacob is carrying that giant stuffed carnival rabbit on his hip like a huge blue toddler, the bell tied around its neck with soft ribbon jingles a death knell with his every step.”

  Jess shook her head, “Please, don’t.”