Bovine Bloodbath
Page 1
Copyright 2017
Grand Ozarks Media
Orlando FL
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Battlefield Z
Children's Brigade
Sweet Home Zombie
Zombie Blues Highway
Mardi Gras Zombie
Bluegrass Zombie
Outcast Zombie
Renegade Zombie
Flyover Zombie - the Battlefield Z series
Headshots - the Battlefield Z series
Overland Zombie
Lunar Hustle- Prequel to The Dipole Shield
The Dipole Shield - The Dipole Series
Planet 9 - The Dipole Series
Moon Men
Epoch - The Future Templar
Eon- The Future Templar
Era - The Future Templar
Super Secret Space Mission
The Herd Shot Round the World
Conscripted - the Shadowboxer files
Mission One - the Shadowboxer files
Shadowboxer - the Shadowboxer files
Decreed - the Shadowboxer files
Suspect - the Shadowboxer files
Nazi Nukes - a Shadowboxer story
Phalanx - Invasion Earth
Pyrrhic - Invasion Earth
Beachhead - Invasion Earth
Bridgehead - Invasion Earth
Lodgement – Invasion Earth
Urban Fantasy Series
Witchmas - a Marshal of Magic story
Witchmas Eve - a Marshal of Magic story
Witchmas Day – a Marshal of Magic story
The Holy War
Evasion - Destruction Earth
CHAPTER ONE
General Houston paced the fringe of the conference room and huffed. He traversed the length of the room, hands clasped behind his back and growled as he about faced and returned again.
Each grumble and huff was directed at two men who sat on the other side of the table.
“You numb sack worthless pieces of dehydrated monkey dung,” he sputtered as he walked.
“I want to kill you. Dead. But I can’t.”
“You can’t? Why not?
“Don’t encourage him,” Dawes snapped.
“I ain’t encouraging him. I’m satisfying a curiosity.”
“Gentleman,” Houston grunted. “We have a problem.”
“Besides us?”
“Worse than you.”
He slammed two meaty fists into the smooth surface of the tabletop and tried to burn holes through their skulls with his eyes.
Carver leaned further back in his seat and shot a weary grin to Dawes.
“You know man, that makes me feel a little better.”
“Second to last is not the worst,” Dawes drawled.
He was long and lean, whipped muscles corded his arms and neck, and carried the lankiness often associated with cowboys and men who had spent time on the range.
Carver was just under his height and slightly heavier than his weight, but lean too, a lifelong athlete whose mouth was faster than his feet.
They were still dress in tattered flight suits, ripped and dirty from a crash the General had whisked them away from just hours before.
“Hey man, can I get a drink of water or something around here?”
“Or a beer.”
“Yeah, a beer sounds nice.”
“We did just stop an alien invasion.”
“That’s right,” Carver held up his fist for a fist bump.
“I don’t do that.”
“What? This? Come on man, everybody does this. Just put your hand up.”
“I’ll high five, but I don’t blow it up.”
“It’s the same thing,” Carver sighed, fist still in the air as he waited.
“Gentlemen,” Houston interrupted.
“Hang on a second,” said Carver. “You’re telling me you’ll slap my hand if I open it up, but you won’t bump knuckles.”
Dawes shrugged.
“I just think it’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid,” Carver mumbled.
He opened up his long fingers and showed Dawes his palm.
The cowboy leaned up and slapped it with a loud clap that reverberated in the small room.
“Better?”
Carver shook his hand and hid a wince.
“Yeah, better.”
“Are you done?” Houston snapped.
“We waiting on you,” Carver tried a grin to see if it would work on the General.
It didn’t.
"You going to talk to us?" the young black man continued.
“You said problem,” Dawes reminded him, trying to be helpful.
“And where is Rachel?” Carver glanced around the room.
“She’s following orders,” Houston snapped. “Which is what I’m doing.”
“Or what?”
“Or what what?” Dawes asked Carver.
“Man, I heard that kind of tone from my momma a lot. There was always an or else or an or what after it. Like someone was making her do something she didn’t want to do, and if I didn’t go along, she would whip my bottom.”
Dawes nodded and turned to Houston.
“Or what?”
The General’s eyes flashed. Two bright red spots bloomed on his cheeks as he visibly shook to bring himself back under control.
“Did you see that?”
“That can’t be good for him.”
“Ain’t good for us either,” Carver whispered.
“If he strokes out, I bet they blame us or something.”
“I want your eyes up front and your mouths zipped!” Houston raged, spittle showering the tabletop.
Carver and Dawes sat up straighter in their chairs and wisely kept their mouths shut, though Dawes eyed a droplet of moisture on the table with a disgusted look on his face.
Houston made a motion with his hand and a hologram appeared on the floor in front of him.
“Cool,” said Dawes.
“Thirty seconds,” Houston muttered. “Not even thirty seconds.”
“It’s like that Princess Leia thing in Star Wars,” Carver studied it. "What is it?"
“It’s a bull.”
“I know it’s a bull, but it don’t look like a real bull. This a video game bull or something?”
“It’s an alien bull.”
“What happened to the Lizard men?”
“The Licks are still out there, we think. But as we are learning fast, we are not alone.”
“No, you’re not,” said Dawes. “You’ve got us in here.”
“I think he means in space.”
“Oh.”
“You mean in space, right General?”
“Yes,” he answered in a clipped voice.
“Kiss ass,” Dawes made a smooching sound.
“I ain’t kissing ass, I’m clarifying.”
“Smooch like a duck, I think duck.”
“I ain’t smooching, I ain’t kissing, I ain’t sucking up to nothing.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself to get to sleep at night,” Dawes said sagely.
“Whatever man. You don’t know nothing. Space Bull,” he turned back to the General who watched the exchange, color on his face shifting from red to purple to white and back again as he fought an army of emotions.
After a moment, he let out a long low breath and continued.
"That is their supreme leader," Houston shifted the hologram around as he moved.
"It's like one of those paintings," Carver said with wonder in his voice.
"The eyes follow you as you move."
"It's a hologram, not a painting,"
Dawes explained.
"I know that," Carver snapped. "It's a holograph, right."
"Yes," Houston groused. "We intercepted this transmission."
"To who?"
"To whom."
"Man, this ain't English class," Carver rounded on Dawes.
"Good thing or you'd get an F."
"I'd do better than what you could do. Redneck. Cowboy."
"Gentleman!"
The two men snapped their eyes on the General and shut up.
"How does he do that? Man, one day you're gonna have to teach me that trick."
"This is their leader," Houston ignored him.
"He looks like a weird cow," said Dawes.
"Looks are deceiving. He's nine feet tall and weighs a ton."
"No, man, he's got horns, hooves. It's a bull."
"It's an alien species," Houston seethed. "An alien warrior bent on world domination."
"It said that?" asked Carver.
"Just shooting the bull?" Dawes snickered.
"Shut up!" Houston exploded. "You two-"
He waved his finger between them, fist clinching and unclenching beneath it.
"This. Is. Important."
"So? So was the last one," said Caver. "And you ain't even said thank you for saving our ass for that. No medal. No money. Not even lunch. And I'm hungry. You hungry?"
"I could eat," said Dawes.
"See, no appreciation. No respect."
"You want respect?"
"We'd settle for some common courtesy. You haven't even said please."
"You want courtesy?"
“I think we earned it.”
"Follow me."
CHAPTER TWO
Houston led them through a whooshing door and didn't wait to see if they followed. He marched through the door and down the corridor.
The walls this low were smooth bore rock with metal struts spaced every five yards.
Carver and Dawes struggled to catch up to the General and fell in step behind him.
"We in the same place we were last time?" Carver pestered the back of the General's thick neck.
"Hey? Hey! I'm talking to you man."
The General froze in his tracks. Carver and Dawes stumbled across each other in an effort not to plow into the back of him.
They watched a crimson blush creep out of his collar and slowly spread up the skin on his neck. It reached his ears until the tips glowed like two Christmas bulbs. He turned around, iron gray mustache bristling.
"Sir," he seethed.
"You don't have to call me Sir," Carver cracked an easy smile. "And he ain't no sir either."
He jabbed a thumb at Dawes.
"We ain't soldiers."
Houston slapped a meaty hand into the closest metal strut. The rock wall shimmered and dissolved in a cascade of rainbow colors that faded to reveal clear glass.
Below and beyond, the two men could see hundreds of fatigue clad bodies training in the vast subterranean cavern.
They shot lasers on a firing range. They ran laps around the perimeter.
Some practiced hand to hand combat, while others tackled an obstacle course.
There was even a mechanical bull with a short line waiting to take a turn at a ride.
"You're in the army now," Houston growled.
"Drafted," Dawes held up both hands and backpedaled.
"Look man," said Carver. "We didn't volunteer to get shot up into outer space. We didn't step up to fight those eight foot lizard men. And we didn't sign up for this."
"Too bad."
"Too bad?"
"Did I stutter? You boys have two choices. My way," he ticked off on one finger.
A couple of massive jumpsuit clad soldiers stepped around the corner behind them.
They were dressed in black fatigues, black boots, and black wraparound sunglasses with mirror lenses that lent them an alien appearance.
They also had guns.
Giant blaster rifles that looked all the more menacing in that both barrels were pointed at Dawes and Carver.
"Or the we kill you way."
Carver shot a look at Dawes, then back at the giant black barrels of the rifles. He turned on a thousand watt smile for Houston.
"Why didn't you say so, Sir? Your way sounds good. Don't it Dawes."
"Way better than the alternative," Dawes gulped. "I'm not so fond of the we kill you way."
Houston snorted and turned back to his march.
"Fall in," he ordered the two soldiers behind them. "Try to keep up."
CHAPTER THREE
"That is a lot of soldiers," Dawes whistled through his teeth. "Are those lasers?"
"Super Secret Space Soldiers," Carver stared through the window beside him.
The men below them in the hold continued to train oblivious to their new admirers.
Dawes zeroed in on one soldier in particular, a curvy feminine shape in a form fitting suit. He nudged Carver's elbow and pointed.
"What?"
"Look."
Carver strained to see what he was talking about.
"What am I looking at? Space Army? I see them. There they are man, all of them down there."
"The one training them, there," he pointed again.
"You keep pointing like that's going to make a difference or something. I'm looking but I ain't seeing what you're talking about."
"There!"
"There where! I said I see a bunch of people fighting."
"With the gun."
"They all got guns."
"Blasters," Houston corrected.
"The girl."
"I don't see no girl."
"Rachel."
Carver pressed his face closer to the glass.
"Where?"
"There."
"Man," he glared at Dawes. "I'm telling you, I see a bunch of things. You just pointing in a general direction ain't helping me."
Dawes sighed.
"Do you need glasses?"
"I don't need no glasses. I need you to tell me where you're looking. There are thousands of guys down there and I don't know which one you're talking about."
"See the wall."
"The back wall?"
"The side wall."
"See, I wasn't even looking that way."
"I was pointing at the side wall."
"I didn't know what you were pointing at."
"Rachel. I'm pointing at Rachel."
Carver's eyes finally landed on her and an easy grin broke out on his cheeks.
"Oh yeah, there she is. Why didn't you say so."
He turned to Houston.
"Alright General, you getting the band back together? We going down there to get her now."
"She's training," one of the silver eyed men said.
"Training? She don't need no training. She should be training them."
"She is."
"Oh."
"Is she going to train us?" Dawes glanced over his shoulder as she flipped a super secret space soldier over her shoulder, ripped the rifle from his hands and aimed it at his head.
"She needs to train you," the General spun on his heal and kept walking down the corridor.
Duke and Nuke herded the two men after him.
"But we don’t' have time," Houston continued. "You three are the only ones who have encountered alien life forms before. You fought them, and God knows how, you beat them."
"It was luck," Carver started to say and Dawes nudged him off balance. He almost bounced off the clear glass wall and shrieked a little as he fidgeted for balance.
"Don't push me man."
"Quiet-ay, on the luck-ay."
"What's that?"
"Pig Latin."
"Your pig Latin sucks."
"Did you understand me?"