Z-Minus (Book 4)

by Perrin Briar

  Mark raised a hand. They stopped. Lucy’s head swiveled even more, eyes wide and afraid. Mark got onto his stomach and crawled forward, lifting a large leaf to peer closer at the road.

  He made out black tires and the green side panel of a jeep. There are still patrols? Mark thought. Hope leapt in his chest. That meant the training exercise was still taking place. Had all this really been part of an elaborate trap?

  His hope shriveled at what he saw next: a puddle of red beside the jeep’s front wheel. Something dripped into it every few seconds. Mark got to his feet slowly, the others following his lead like a choreographed dance troop. He edged toward the road, as close to it as he dared. He peered closer at the jeep’s hood.

  A figure lay across it like a model at a fashion shoot. He was on his back, tilted in a yoga-like position that could not have been comfortable. The figure was smothered with blood, his own, that trailed the figure’s arm hanging over the side.

  “It’s Eddie,” Daoud said, joining Mark.

  Mark turned his head to one side and peered at the figure’s face. Daoud was right.

  Mark peered up and down the road. They were located on a blind corner, the road disappearing down either side of it. They would be exposed, but right then, Mark didn’t much care. Daoud approached one blind bend, John the other.

  “Nothing on this side,” John said.

  “This side neither,” Daoud said.

  Lucy joined them, but her attention was on the forest on either side. Birds sung and chased one another. The breeze was cool and refreshing. An otherwise beautiful day.

  Mark approached Eddie’s unmoving prostrate figure.

  “Be careful,” Lucy said. “They can move faster than you’d believe.”

  Mark appraised Eddie’s final repose. He had fought hard, by all accounts, covered head to foot in blood. The monsters had seen fit to leave his face untouched and concentrated on tearing at his arms, legs and stomach. His clothes covered the worst of his wounds. He hadn’t been a good man, but he had dedicated his life to his country. He deserved better than to have died like this.

  In his hand, clasped tight to his chest, was his rifle. Packed with paintballs, it wouldn’t have been much of a defense against the monsters Lucy spoke of, who came and came, no matter how many bullets were put into them. Paintballs were worse than useless. They would have given hope where there was none to be had.

  Mark checked Eddie’s pockets. Empty.

  He turned away. He heard a grunt, like a chuckle in a thick throat. When he turned back, Eddie’s eyes were open, a malevolent grin bending his features. He pulled the trigger on his rifle and a paintball flew out and struck Mark on the chest. Red paint ruptured over his shirt. It stung. A second paintball followed. Eddie turned the gun around and shot John in the ass, causing him to howl.

  Eddie swung his legs around, sat up, and unloaded another paintball at Daoud, taking him in the arm and shoulder. He didn’t fire at Lucy. Perhaps he mistook the red splatters on her shirt for paint.

  “I can play dead too,” Eddie said. “The bullets are imaginary, the blood just in my mind, but by God, those were the most satisfying kills I ever made.”

  “What are you doing?” Mark said.

  “Winning the game,” Eddie said. “Wait till the others hear I took down your whole team all on my lonesome – armed only with a little fake blood and a haunted expression. Did you like the pose across the hood of the jeep? I thought it might have been a bit overdramatic, but you bought it hook, line and sinker!”

  Eddie pointed his rifle at Lucy.

  “Who’s this?” he said. “I’m impressed. Not only on a training mission, but you manage to get something tasty on the side for yourself too.”

  “She’s a makeup artist,” Mark said.

  “I’m sure she is,” Eddie said with a smirk. “She can do me over any time.”

  Lucy groaned, clenched her eyes shut tight and turned away.

  “Cheer up,” Eddie said. “It wasn’t that bad a chat-up line.”

  Lucy’s body shook. She was pale as fresh snow and looked barely capable of staying conscious.

  “Lucy,” Daoud said. “Are you-?”

  “I’m fine,” Lucy said. “I’m just weak, that’s all.”

  She needed to get to the rendezvous as soon as possible.

  “Is your radio working?” Mark said to Eddie.

  “Sure,” Eddie said. “Don’t think you can wrangle yourself out of this one. I can’t believe I got you with the same trick you pulled on me.”

  “Where’s your radio?” Mark said.

  Eddie frowned, annoyed Mark wasn’t rising to the bait.

  “Why haven’t you reported in?” Mark said.

  “The last thing Major Edwards said was to hold positions until further word came,” Eddie said. “After that there was a bunch of hissing and screaming on the other end of the line.”

  “Screaming?” Mark said.

  “Yeah,” Eddie said. “I knew they were going all-out on this one, but even I was amazed at the quality. Do you reckon they got some Hollywood studio to work on it?”

  Mark grabbed the radio.

  “Come in, over,” he said. “Mark Edwards reporting in, over.”

  Static answered.

  “Come in, over,” Mark said. “Come in.”

  “They’re not going to respond to you,” Eddie said. “They’ll think it’s some kind of ploy.”

  Eddie took the radio.

  “This is Santos, over,” he said into the handset.

  Static answered him.

  “Santos, over,” he said.

  More static.

  “Listen, the game’s over,” Eddie said. “I’ve captured Mark and his team. Single handedly, I might add.”

  Hissing answered him again. He repeated the message.

  “They’re not going to answer you,” John said. “There’s no one there.”

  “Didn’t you hear explosions earlier?” Mark said. “The shooting?”

  “Yeah,” Eddie said, beginning to frown now. “But that was all just part of the fun. Wasn’t it?”

  The question hung over them, heavy and pregnant.

  “Get in the jeep,” Mark said. “We’re going for a ride.”

  “It’s my jeep,” Eddie said. “I’ll say what we’re going to do.”

  He eyed Mark and the others.

  “Get in,” he said. “We’re going for a ride.”

  Z-MINUS: 4 hours 32 minutes

  The jeep ate the road hungrily, the forest blending into a mirage of greens and yellows. It was beginning to turn dark, twilight.

  Every few minutes, Mark peered into the foliage and found a hungry face looking back at him, mouth falling open into a growl, eyes red and shining. Several even looked like Tabitha, something clutched to her chest, dirty and smeared with blood. Others had the appearance of Roach. Mark decided to keep his attention on the road.

  Eddie had been spooked by the team’s silence, every couple of minutes turning to them, but leaving the burning questions on his lips unanswered. His foot stayed firmly planted to the floor.

  Up ahead, a figure drifted from the foliage and into the road, reaching out with clawed hands and an angry expression. Eddie eased up off the accelerator to avoid them.

  “Don’t stop,” Mark said.

  Eddie made no smart-ass comment this time, and did as he was told. More bodies rushed past, catching snapshots of the angry hungry faces of something that was once human. Crusted blood around their eyes, noses and mouths.

  “What the hell are these things?” Eddie said.

  “Infected,” Mark said.

  “Real infected?” Eddie said.

  Mark nodded.

  “Fuck,” Eddie said.

  The jeep had no doors, only a front windscreen. Mark suddenly felt very exposed, to the elements and the creatures that edged closer and closer to the center of the road.

  The jeep was noisy. It garnered the attention of every monstrous entity in the vicin
ity. Soon there were thick bunches that clogged up their path. Eddie tugged on the wheel to avoid them, but soon that wasn’t possible. There was just too many of them.

  “Go through them,” Mark said, surprised at the calmness of his voice.

  “Are you crazy?” Eddie said. “I can’t do that! They’re people!”

  “They were people,” Mark said. “Not anymore.”

  Eddie shook his head. He would either need to plow through them or stop. He gritted his teeth and let the bodies bounce off the jeep’s bumper. Eddie’s expression broke with each collision, displaying a humanity Mark never suspected he possessed. The passengers gripped the roll cage tight.

  The jeep slowed with each impact, the engine chugging, forcing Eddie to shift down a gear. The engine roared and jerked forward, a spurt of speed that split a man’s skull, spilling his brains over the hood.

  Figures grabbed at the passengers’ clothes. One tore Lucy’s skirt, and then fell and went under the wheels. Lucy screamed. John grabbed her to keep her from following the unfortunate.

  “We’re not going to make it through!” Daoud said.

  “We will!” Eddie said. “She will! Come on, baby! Come on!”

  The undead bounced off the jeep, limbs snapping against the unflinching metal frame. Eddie hit the windscreen wipers. Meaty chunks spat over the side. Some flipped up. Mark felt something patter against his face. He brushed it away. His fingertips came away red. He considered the droplets and filed the situation away for later analysis.

  Mark, John and Daoud kicked at the creatures who clung to the jeep, powerful thrusts that dislodged them.

  The collisions became more sporadic. The jeep picked up speed as they pulled away from the monstrous horde. They looked back to see the undead follow the cloud of dust kicked up by the wheels. There were hundreds of them, thousands, and they were all trailing the jeep.

  The passengers’ relief was short lived as the engine coughed and spluttered. The vehicle began to veer to one side. Eddie fought the wheel, but it would not go in the direction he wanted.

  “Go straight!” he screamed at the car, beating at the wheel with the heel of his hand. “Come on!”

  “She must have been damaged,” Mark said.

  Smoke spilled from the thin gaps around the hood, hissing like an over-boiled kettle. The jeep juddered to a halt by the side of the road. She was dead, but she’d done her job.

  Z-MINUS: 4 hours 21 minutes

  The jeep looked like it had taken part in the La Tomatina festival. It was red, with black lumps clinging to the hood. Decapitated heads clogged up the wheel arches, grinding against the brake pads. It was a wonder it had managed to last as long as it had.

  Eddie wasted no time in kicking and cursing the jeep, extolling the anger he’d pent up during their drive. A soldier’s life was one of servitude to a higher purpose. Everything they undertook was an effort to reduce human casualties. Driving headlong into a crowded road wasn’t the best way to achieve it.

  “We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way,” John said.

  “Can’t you fix it?” Eddie said.

  “Not without replacing the engine,” John said.

  “I thought you knew about this shit?” Eddie said.

  “I do,” John said. “But unless you’ve got a spare engine in your pack there’s nothing I can do.”

  Lucy screeched, a terrified squeal like a pig approaching the slaughterhouse. Blood ran from her nose. She wiped at it with her hands. She looked like she was wearing fingerless gloves.

  “No,” she said, wiping the blood again with the back of her hand. “No! I can’t be infected! No!”

  But as hard as she tried to stem the flow, her nose kept running with blood. Then it trickled out the corner of each of her eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” Eddie said. “Something caught you on the ride over?”

  Lucy opened her eyes and hissed, her eyes blood red, wide and wild, like an animal cornered by a predator. Eddie backed away, tripping on a rock and landing on his backside.

  “Jesus Christ Almighty!” he said. “Did you see that?”

  Lucy blinked, taking a step back, looking at them in turn as if she’d just woken from a dream.

  “What happened?” she said.

  Daoud reached into a side pocket on his pack. Mark could tell by the way Daoud held it that it was not filled with paintballs. Lucy whimpered.

  “Daoud,” Mark said. “Put the pistol down.”

  “You have live ammo?” John said.

  “I found it back at the compound,” Daoud said. “Splattered with blood, but not jammed.”

  “It fires?” Mark said.

  “I don’t know, I didn’t dare fire it at the compound,” Daoud said. “I guess we’ll find out won’t we?”

  He levelled the gun at Lucy. Lucy cowered, her whole body shaking. Mark put himself between the pistol and Lucy.

  “Put the gun down,” Mark said.

  Daoud didn’t move a muscle.

  “I said put the gun down, Daoud,” Mark said.

  “She’ll turn,” Daoud said. “And we’ll be left with her at our backs. How long do you think we’ll last then?”

  “Let him do what he’s gonna do,” Eddie said.

  “Stay out of this,” Mark said. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “It does when my life is on the line,” Eddie said.

  “This is not your team,” Mark said.

  He turned back to Daoud.

  “Put the pistol down,” he said.

  “Shoot her,” Eddie said. “Shoot her!”

  John slugged Eddie in the face.

  “Shut up!” he said.

  Eddie cupped his hand to his nose, blood dribbling over his fingers. He gritted his teeth, but said nothing.

  Daoud pulled the hammer back on his pistol.

  “No,” Mark said. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “You’ve seen what they become,” Daoud said. “She’ll become one of those monsters.”

  “There might be a cure at the rendezvous,” Mark said.

  “She’ll never make it to the rendezvous,” Daoud said.

  “She will,” Mark said.

  “Look at her,” Daoud said. “She can’t make it.”

  “Mark,” Eddie said softly. “Daoud is right. Better to do it now instead of having her turning at our backs.”

  “Not when the cure is still a possibility,” Mark said.

  “What cure?” Daoud said. “There’s no cure for death. I don’t know much about doctoring, but I know that much.”

  “You’re a soldier,” Mark said, his voice even and calm. “You don’t kill innocent people.”

  Daoud looked from his pistol to Lucy, then to Mark. He must have seen the determination on Mark’s face because he lowered the gun.

  “Fine,” Daoud said. “We’ll do it your way.”

  Mark’s body relaxed. He lowered his hands.

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s just get to the rendezvous point as fast as we can and get her the cure.”

  He didn’t know if there even was one, but there had to be. For Lucy’s sake.

  Daoud raised his pistol. The movement was so slow and deliberate that Mark barely registered it.

  Daoud pulled the trigger.

  The bullet slammed into Lucy and knocked her bodily backward, into the trunk of a large tree.

  Mark dashed forward, knocked the gun from Daoud’s hand and slugged him in the face. Daoud began to raise his hands in self-defense, and then thought better of it. He lowered his hands. A sliver of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

  Mark screamed in Daoud’s face and slugged him again. Daoud’s head snapped to the side. He spat out a mouthful of blood. His eyes followed a long winding trail up Mark’s boots, khakis, to his face, and eyes.

  “I ordered you not to shoot!” Mark said.

  His voice sounded weak and child-like even to his own ears, as if he’d told his friend not to touch a prized po
ssession, only to return to find it smashed and broken on the floor.

  “It was the wrong order,” Daoud said.

  Mark blinked like he’d been slapped. Orders were neither right nor wrong. They simply were. You did what you were told. Independent thought – any that mattered during a mission – was drilled out of you. You did what you were trained to do. It was faster, required less thought, and could save your life, as well as those of your team.

  “I gave you an order!” Mark said.

  It was the only argument he had, the only one he had ever needed before.

  “We cannot let morals cloud our judgement,” Daoud said. “She wasn’t going to last till we got to the rendezvous point, and you know it. You would have sacrificed our safety in exchange for hers. A bad order for good reasons is still a bad order.”

  “It’s not our job to question orders,” Mark said. “Only carry them out.”

  “I knew he hadn’t changed,” John said. “He betrayed his own team when he got half a chance, and he’ll do it again to us. I say we shoot him and remove the risk.”

  “What do you know about it?” Daoud said, his tone gruff, assertive. “You might be able to turn yourself off to the responsibilities we face, but I can’t. That’s why I took the shot in Baghdad. That’s why I chose to ignore my orders and make a call. It resulted in the death of a teammate. Don’t you think I regret having to make that decision? Every single day? I would have given anything not to have been there to do what I did. It wasn’t what I signed up for. But there I was, with a decision to make, and no one there to make it for me. There was no time.”

  “Enemies at our back,” John said. “A tosser and a traitor at our side.”

  “You were lucky not to have been court marshalled,” Mark said to Daoud.

  “Or beaten to death by your company,” John said.

  “Believe me, they wanted to,” Daoud said with a flicker of his eyes toward Eddie.

  “So would I,” John said. “In fact, why don’t we sort it out now? Give McNab some goddamn vengeance.”

  “You and whose army?” Daoud said.

  “This one,” John said with a growl.

  He tossed his rifle down and ran at Daoud.