by Dan DeWitt
As if synchronized.
The more he thought about it, the more sure he became.
He didn't even try to fool himself into believing that this was solely the doing of Dr. Vincent. He was working for someone, and that someone was Darrin Cross of Charon Biotics International. Did it end with him? Orpheus doubted it. Marty had Cross on the hook and was convinced that while he was directing things, he wasn't the money or the power behind it.
Orpheus was beginning to go cross-eyed from all of the reading, so he pushed away from his desk and leaned back in his chair. He laced his fingers together behind his head and closed his eyes.
Whoever you are, you motherfucker, I will find you.
O
"Okay, stop for a second," Tim said to the driver. The coordinates on the GPS readout were correct. Tim, who had recently (and for good reason) become a guy who refused to be entirely dependent upon technology, double-checked it against a map. "Yeah, we're good."
"Roger." The driver stopped the Rhino, but kept it running so they would have the full use of the van.
Tino said, "I don't know if 'good' is what I'd go with, LT." He motioned to the window while he checked his weapon.
Tim looked and saw the same thing that Tino saw.
One of the spotters yelled, "We got some coming from the side, too!" He'd barely gotten the last word out before several zombies crashed against the Rhino with resounding thumps. The Rhino itself didn't budge an inch. A few of the men were startled, but quickly composed themselves.
Tim heard the mechanical hum of the stabilizers being lowered. "Sit tight, guys. This is what we're here for. Once the stabs are down we go to work."
Ethan's voice came over the radio. "Zulu One, this is Zulu Two. We're in position. Over."
"Same here, Zulu Two. Zulu Three, status?"
"In place and locked. We have a few customers already." Rachel sounded confident. She has every reason to be, Tim thought. She's already done a lot more damage with a lot less firepower.
"Zulu Four?"
"Ready to fucking rock, over." Fish sounded like Fish.
"Copy all in position. Wait for my go."
The horde that had caught Tino's eye were pounding away at the front of the Rhino. They clawed ineffectually at the Rhino, hands leaving streaks of gore in places, because the laser-cut door seams were nearly invisible and impossible to pry open anyway.
Tim felt the Rhino lift an inch or two as the stabilizers drove into the earth. The driver confirmed that the stabilizers were locked in position. "Let's do it, fellas. Give me eight up top. No sense crowding everyone up there." There was a little jostling for position, as none of them wanted to be left inside. The fear of the zombies that some of them had initially felt on day one had been replaced by a general desire for action. Tim supposed that was a good thing, generally speaking, although he didn't know why some of them were so damn excited to kill what not too long ago were human beings.
He radioed to the other three units that they were almost a go. He handed his weapon to Tino and headed topside himself. He wouldn't be firing today if he could help it. If he got through the entire mission without killing anyone else, he'd consider that a rousing success. His sole duty was to make sure they stayed safe, that no one fired anywhere near the other Rhinos, and that the job got done efficiently. The other lieutenants would be doing the same.
For this gig, they were all just middle management.
He reached the top of the hatch and got his feet under him. He ensured that he was clipped in properly and walked the length of the Rhino. He wasn't surprised to find that they were completely surrounded by more than three dozen zombies. In another lifetime, it would have been utterly terrifying. But these were entirely different circumstances, and he was, to be frank, an entirely different man. This time, he and his friends were in complete control.
He surveyed the other soldiers and was amused that the ones who showed the most bravado at the school seemed to be the most nervous. It was kind of odd, as they all had at least one or two zombie kills under their belts. Then again, that was back at the base, they only had to deal with a handful at a time ... and Orpheus had been there.
Tim deliberately delayed the go order and made everyone sweat a little more, just to see how they'd handle the additional stress. He stepped to the edge and looked down at the zombies. Their corrupted bodies had definitely robbed them of most of their zip. They couldn't run as fast, they couldn't jump as high. Their attempts to reach him fell pathetically short, their arms making long but impotent arcs through nothing but air, and still they tried again and again. They possessed the same relentless nature, but their physical tools had taken a huge hit due to time and decay. Even without the stabilizers, the Rhino would have been in no danger of being tipped.
They made more noise this time around. They still didn't groan, but each strenuous movement brought a gruesome crack, or snap, or tear. Tim had to keep himself from wincing.
Once, they were monsters. Now, he had time to recognize them for what they really were: tortured souls who needed peace. He'd been exactly one step away from joining them before he'd met Ethan and Rachel.
Speaking of whom...
Tim pulled a set of binoculars out of his cargo pocket and scanned his surroundings, the closest Rhino featured in the foreground. Tim focused and could make out a bunch of figures standing around, as his own charges were. In the center, another figure stood with arms outstretched to either side as if to say, "Are we doing this or what?"
When Tim finished laughing he said, "One rule: If you miss, that round better hit the ground." He advised Lena that they were ready to engage. He gave the order, and gunshots ruled the morning air.
As soon as the firing started, the tension seemed to go out of the group. The zombies stopped being undead people and just became targets. Sight, fire, finish, move on.
Simple.
It didn't take long to finish the first group of zombies. The bulk of their time was taken up after the smoke had cleared. The bodies had to be photographed, searched for any obvious ID, and dragged out of the way so the Rhino could proceed to the next destination. They also had to deal with the occasional stray, but the snipers stationed on the roof made sure they never got closer than a hundred yards. Tim heard grumbling from some of them about why they had to waste time with all of this, but he ignored it. Their blood was up, and they were ready for more. Also, if they couldn't already understand that these were people who deserved whatever dignity could be given them, people who had families who wanted closure, then it wouldn't be any use giving a speech, now would it? As long as they did the job, they could all go home safe.
Tino handed him a clipboard with the final tally and any information that they could glean from the dead. "We identified fourteen. I don't know if that's good or bad, but there it is."
"For the fourteen next of kin, it's both, I'd imagine."
Tino nodded. "Yeah." He actually sighed. "We're ready to move."
"The Rhino clear?"
The driver, Baylor, came through the door. "Yes, sir. Just finished my walkaround."
"Then let's hit it. No sense hanging around. Keep the ride smooth, I have to take a crap."
Tim walked to the head and shut the door behind him. He sat down on the closed lid and put his head in his hands. It may be easier to kill them now, but it's so much harder to deal with.
Before, when it was only their small, tight-knit group, they didn't really think it about it much. They just moved from place to place, worried about nothing but their own survival.
Fear, Tim thought, does have its advantages.
He flushed to help maintain the illusion, splashed some water on his face, and rejoined the group. He was all business again, and the quartet of vehicles made slow but steady progress inland. Between them they had racked up over a hundred kills, even though they had only physically travelled less than two miles as the crow flies. There was plenty of down time for smoking, texting loved ones, or just shooting the shit.
/> "Zulu One, it's Lena."
"Go."
"What's your current status?"
"Ready to roll to the next location."
"Don't bother. Roll on back to base. Orpheus is calling it a day."
Tim checked his watch. They probably had an hour of daylight left, but with clean up and travel time, it'd be close. And he knew for a fact that his boss wasn't going to make anything "close" to darkness. "En route."
He settled in to his seat and reviewed the day's stats on the ride back. As first days went, it couldn't have been any better, especially given the object of the work.
Tino clapped him on the shoulder and said, "I don't know about you LT, but I need a drink."
The Hangover
Most everyone else had been in agreement with Tino's sentiment, and all but a few showed up at the Zom Shelter. Fish handled the music again, and both Ethan and Lena helped out behind the bar, for which Malone was grateful. "Man, I have got to train someone else how to tend bar. These guys don't even have the decency to stick to beer!"
Thompson and Hedley were there, as well. They mingled through the crowd and would occasionally stick the microphone and camera in front of a soldier to get his impression of the day's events. The responses ranged from the respectfully somber to near euphoria. How much of this was fueled by the alcohol was unknown, but it made for great soundbites either way. When Thompson signaled that they had enough, they dropped their equipment and joined in the fun.
Tim stayed mostly out of the way. With his friends otherwise occupied, it was solely his responsibility to make sure that nothing got out of hand. He couldn't help but make a mental note of a few faces he didn't see, but he wasn't surprised by any of them. At least one of them didn't drink at all, and the rest probably just wanted to rest after a long day.
The next morning, they organized for the daily briefing. When Orpheus walked in, Tim ordered them to attention, which they all did crisply. Orpheus put them at ease and took a clipboard from his son.
All but one.
Tim was horrified to see one soldier (Falcone by the nametape) looking like death warmed over. He was possessed of a sickly pallor, and Tim noticed that he was swaying slightly in place. Tim glanced over at Orpheus and saw that he was engaged in conversation with Ethan, who was smiling and apparently finishing up an anecdote. He took a risk and walked to Falcone's place in line, but Rachel had beaten him there. Tim caught the tail end of a one-way conversation, an unmistakable "... got to be shitting me." She was already instructing the men on either side of Falcone to brace him as best they could. Tim changed tactics and moved to where Orpheus was standing. He had just finished speaking with Ethan.
Tim had to buy Rachel a few more seconds. He honestly didn't care if Falcone got hemmed up for being stupid. But Tim knew that Orpheus would stick to his word and shut down the ZS, and that would suck for everyone. More than that, Tim had given his word that he would control it, and that had lasted for two whole days. Angry Orpheus was definitely the worst Orpheus, but Disappointed Orpheus ran a close second.
He positioned himself in an attempt to block Orpheus' sightline to Falcone, but he didn't know how successful that would be. The man was huge. "Hey, boss," Tim said
"What's up?"
"I just had a question."
An awkward silence hung for a moment.
"Is this a guessing game, Lieutenant?"
"No, I was just wondering ...”
Tim's lame attempt at distraction was interrupted by the worst sound he could possibly imagine, and he just dropped his head in defeat.
Falcone vomited.
Tim swung his head around in time to see the formation scattering to avoid the mess. In a movie, it would have been comical. But in reality, the only way it could have been worse was if someone like Iver Thompspn was filming it, which, of course, he was.
"Get the fuck back in formation! NOW!"
Angry Orpheus it was.
They reformed in a rush, and a few unfortunate soldiers were standing in hot sick, not that it seemed to matter at the moment. They stood in a nervous silence, all eyeballs unintentionally trained on Orpheus, who seemed to be deciding the best way to blow up. He glared at Falcone, who seemed unaware of it. He looked on the edge of collapse.
"You two," he pointed at the men on either side of Falcone, "get him out of here. I'll deal with you later, Falcone." They each grabbed Falcone by the upper arm and manhandled him out of the room. The closing door made the only sound in the room for a long moment.
"What did I say?" Orpheus drew out every word. "We just started the mission, and I already have to shut your bar down." He went into an extended monologue about danger and responsibility which was peppered with expletives. When he was done, he launched into the daily briefing without missing a beat. "We're going to get a late start this morning. You four. My office. Now." His lieutenants walked behind him at a reasonably safe distance. Fish was the last one in, and he shut the door as quietly as possible while Orpheus slid into his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead vigorously. The four of them stood at attention and waited.
Orpheus opened his eyes and said, "Oh, for Christ's sake, sit down." Ethan and Rachel took the couch while Fish and Tim took the supplicant's seats on the other side of the desk.
He began, "Do I even have to say anything else at this point?"
The four of them said no in one fashion or another.
"Falcone is gone. Get him out on the next available ferry."
Ethan said, "Understood."
"This will not happen again." A statement, not a question. "Now go handle your business. Be careful."
Tim stood up and moved to leave, but he turned around. "It's my fault. I was watching the crowd. Everyone else was busy."
"That doesn't make me feel any better," Orpheus said.
"No, but ... I just never saw him getting lit like that. If I did, I would have stopped it."
"Well," Fish started, but thought better of it.
"What was that?" Orpheus asked.
"Probably nothing. But are we even sure that he was at the ZS last night? I watch everyone come through that door, and I don't remember seeing him."
Orpheus tapped his finger on the desk. "What about you two?"
Neither one of them could say with any degree of certainty that he was at the bar.
"Toss his room. If he has booze stashed, he won't have to worry about getting tossed off of the island, because I'll strangle ..." He didn't trail off. The words just hit a brick wall as a look of horrible dawning realization overtook his face. "Shit. Shitshitshit!" He ripped open his top desk drawer, grabbed a small, black canvass pouch about the size of a paperback book, and bolted past them "Come on!"
By the time they'd all shared a confused look and began chasing him, Orpheus was fifty feet past them and accelerating. He was also yelling into his radio with an urgency that Ethan had rarely ever heard. "Lena! Where's Falcone's room?"
O
Lena always said that she "worked hard, so she played hard." And by "playing hard" she meant sitting in bed, drinking wine, and watching Gilmore Girls on iTunes. She was on duty, so there wasn't currently any bed and the wine was a Fresca, but God bless the internet.
Then Orpheus was screaming her name through the radio, and she nearly hit the roof
She was so startled by Orpheus' transmission that she dropped her tablet and it clattered against the tile floor. If not for the impact resistant case, she would've been looking at an expensive cutting board. She saved the Fresca, though. Small miracles.
"Say that again, Cap?"
"I need Falcone's room number right away!"
She reached over to grab her tablet. "Okay, okay, one sec." When she picked it up, she saw the maker's logo on the screen. The tablet had survived, but the fall had caused it to reboot. "That's going to take a minute. My computer's rebooting." She didn't get a response right away and could imagine all sorts of swear words coming out of his mouth. "Wait, did you say Falcone?
I think that's Torres' roommate, and they're right down the hall from me. I think. One sec." She was already trotting down the hall.
"Lena, wait! Just get me the number. Don't go anywhere near that room."
She believed that she was at the right door. She'd only been here a few times to raid Torres' DVD collection, but she was pretty sure it was this one. "Two-two-six, Orpheus."
"We'll be there in thirty seconds. Go back to your room."
She caught the eye of the only guard in sight. He gave her a quizzical look, and she shrugged. He began walking toward her to see if she needed any help. "I'd hang back, if I were you. The boss is coming." Lena was really curious about what was going on and wanted to stay. But she'd already heard about the morning briefing, and she sure wasn't going to cross Cam right now. Before she could take another step, she heard an indistinct shout.
Then screams.
And crashes.
It sounded like a war had broken out inside, and she didn't know what to do. Then someone screamed a bloodcurdling, "HELP ME!!!" and instinct took over. She tried the handle, but the door was locked. "Move aside, move aside!" The guard had a key ring ready and flipped to the proper one. He slid it in with no problem and turned the handle. He flipped the thumb break on his weapon and made to draw it.
He never had time.
A monster wearing digital print BDU and the name tag "Falcone" crashed into him and drove him against the wall. Lena was knocked to the floor, completely aware that if the door had been unlocked she'd be dead. The guard made feeble attempts to fight back, but blood was already pooling underneath him. The only thing holding him upright was Falcone, who seemed to be interested in nothing else but biting. Tearing.
Feeding.
Lena was on her ass, frozen, her eyes not quite believing what she was seeing. She was vaguely aware that screaming was still coming from Room 226. One thought suppressed all others: This can't be happening again. We were so careful. This can't be happening again.
She was in a nightmare.
She stayed as motionless as possible, but Falcone still noticed her. He whipped his head around and glared at her with eyes both dead and full of savagery. She saw pieces of the poor guard's flesh hanging from Falcone's mouth. He chewed and the tatters of skin and muscle retreated into his mouth as if he were slurping spaghetti.
