Ami tapped a finger to her lips as she watched the page load. “You're going to get indigestion, Trips.”
A video titled ‘Defeat Zombies Recruiting Ad with Red Rocket’ opened. The video began with a tight shot of drumsticks on toms, then pulled back to a wide shot of Chum on a sound stage.
“Hey, that's our video,” Trips said, as they watched a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spin around the studio fade into a battle scene. Trips ripped through zombies, and then a fly-over shot zoomed over him running the gauntlet in between splices of the music video. It ended with a slow-motion training sequence and a close-up of his battle-worn face dripping sweat. “You wanted to know what I did? That's what I did.”
“Wow, that ad was a skilled combination of your band’s video inter-spliced with footage of your army training, and it was done overnight. The Colonel ordered that? You're hot. I'd join the army to be like you. Maybe they'll just use you as a poster boy.” Ami clicked play again. “’Specially like the sweat dripping from your brow in slow mo.”
Trips stood up and snarled. “Oi! Call Lewis! Get legal on it.” He listened for a moment and then sat down. “Well, I don't think I authorized it. The papers are in my locker. Yeah, okay.” He hung up, rubbing his chest. “I'm a stupid git,'eh? First Tim and DM, now this. Guess it explains the new moniker, Red Rocket. It’s kind of obscene, don't you think?”
“You should never have done this. You should have told the Colonel to go fuck himself. I told you this was bad, and now you’re going to go get yourself killed and they’re going to use you and...”
“Gee, thanks, Ami. Ya' think? I didn't really have a choice!” Ami started to clear the breakfast dishes and Trips snatched her wrist in midair. “I'm not done, yet!”
“I am,” she said, cocking an eyebrow. She let the plate drop back on the table and stared at him, waiting.
Trips swallowed. “You want to know what happened, baby? I made a deal; that’s what happened.” He let go of her wrist. “They won’t prosecute. You're okay. Alexx and Ichiro, too.”
Ami gasped. “Trips, what did you do?”
“It was the only way.” He stood up. “There won't be a record. The Colonel promised.”
“Trips...” Ami sputtered, raking her fingers through her hair. “Sending you to your death...that isn't a deal! It’s preposterous!”
He tried to pull her toward him. “Ami, we're clear, all of us. I made sure of it.”
Ami backed away from him. “Find a way, Trips. Don't be expendable. Don't go in the field.” She balled her hands into fists. “Can you do that for me? Can you just stay in the background for once in your goddamn life, can you just, please?”
He reached out to her. “It'll be okay. There’s a megaton of backup.” He held her close. “We're just scouts. I lead a team through the zombie zone, but we’ll be okay.”
Ami struggled away from him into the bedroom. “You don't know that! Stop saying that!”
“What am I supposed to say? Huh?” Trips followed her and stood in the doorway as Ami curled into a tight ball on the bed. “What would you have me say? Please tell me.” Ami picked up an MP3 player and jammed an earbud into her ear. “Don’t do that. Talk to me, Ami.”
She glanced at him, tears in her eyes, her mouth a tight line and held up the other earbud. Trips crossed to the bed and put the earbud in his ear. Ami blinked back tears as they listened to a love song. “You're going to die. They're going to kill you, and then what am I supposed to do.”
Trips pulled her to his chest and held her. “It won't be as scary if you see what's up. Come with me to HQ. You'll see.”
She took his large, dry, cracked, weathered hand into her small tear-slicked hand, and kissed him. They made love tenderly and afterward, without saying a word, Ami got into her green Kevlar suit, then Trips kissed and stroked her back before zipping her into it, and dressed in his armor and damp clothes.
As they got ready to leave, Trips stood in the apartment complex’s hallway, chomping cinnamon gum and strapping on gear. He unlocked his bike, as Ami locked her front door. She pulled on an old pair of safety goggles and turned to Trips. “Do these look stupid?”
“She Blinded Me with Science!” Trips laughed. Ami tore off the glasses. “They're fine. Put them back. C’mon.” Trips shrugged. “I mean, you could wear sunglasses, like an average person, but this way you're ready to rock ‘n’ roll like Thomas Dolby.”
Ami growled and put the goggles in her bag. “How are we going to do this?”
“Same as before.” Trips inhaled deeply for the run down the stairs with Dewey's single speed Raleigh over his shoulder. “Actually, wait here,” he said, setting the bike against the balustrade. He drew his sword and tiptoed down the stairs.
“Sheesh, what are you doing?” Ami whispered over the banister watching him disappear into the dark. He was back before she knew it.
“It's cool. You ready? We can call Alexx if you'd rather. I'll wait with you. Can meet you there.” Trips held both heels dipping over the edge of the stairs. “Stretch the ‘ol Achilles.”
“You'll be late.”
“Whatever.” He shrugged and took out his phone.
“How can you be so cavalier about this?”
“Should I call those guys, or what?”
“I'll stick with you.”
“Excellent. It's not far.” He stowed the phone and hoisted the bike over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Outside, Ami perched on the top tube as Trips slipped his toes into the pedal clips and hopped the sidewalk. They passed the little burned out bodega and pizza parlor heading into Central Square, and Ami kept her eyes peeled for zombies and tried not to panic. Jesus, this is not like traveling in a car. It seems like the streets have been cleared of the “rampant zombie infestation,” but what the heck is going on up there in the square? Holy shit! Are those people vampires? They’re roaming in droves.
A group was gathered in front of one of the “blood” bars, Alexx had talked about. As Trips maneuvered the bike into the center lane, he breathed, “Don't make eye contact.”
“Oh, my God, Trips, it's him!” Ami scanned the group on the sidewalk, hair whipping her face. “I just saw him.”
“I know, baby, I saw him too, Amos,” Trips hissed, as he fell in beside an army transport.
“Did he see us?” Ami asked, craning her neck to see. He was gone. They were too far away. She turned forward and gasped. Amos was standing on the corner ahead of them. “How’d he do that?”
Trips slung his body weight into the curve. “Don’t look, Ami.”
But she couldn’t look away. She stared at Amos; her pulse thudded in her ears until it changed to silence. She shivered as she became part of him. She could feel the uncomfortable chill of his buttery leather jacket, and the harsh burn of his frosty breath as he inhaled. She saw that his hands were her hands, and so pale they looked metallic against the gray backdrop of asphalt and concrete, then his burgundy eyes scorched her mind until he became all she saw, the only movement, his long black hair in the breeze.
Trips pumped the bike pedals harder and rode alongside a jeep, using it as a shield. “Ami, can you hear me?”
Amos cackled, tracking them with his silver and ebony cane thrust out. When they rounded the corner, Ami felt dizzy and nauseous. Her hands sweat as she clutched the bike’s handlebars tighter, shaking. She panted through the dizziness sinking onto Trips’ shoulder. Trips repeated his question, but all she could hear was Amos whispering in her head, “You’re mine!”
Chapter 16: Government Deterrent
Colonel Daniel Campbell checked his watch in the overheated conference room full of brass involved in the project. The next jet out of Bolling Air Force Base in Washington DC was due to leave for Boston in the next half hour, he wanted to make that plane, but he needed approval.
General Trent James mopped his forehead as he finished his summation. “This is a dirty little war, people. Dr. Hammersley says it won't work going in guns-a-blazing,
and I'm inclined to believe her. These are citizens of the United States until they’re declared deceased, we have no other option but detention. Our job is to handle a cleanup of this magnitude, but there's simply no defensive position and negotiating is not an option.”
CDC Field Director Bethany Hammersley, still crisp in her sky-blue linen blouse magnified the map on the screen. “Thousands of citizens are still trapped or refusing to leave, in the greater Boston area. We have medical teams on standby, but in the tighter neighborhoods, evacuation isn’t going smoothly. On top of that, we’ll need quarantine for all of those citizens. To handle the situation, we specifically need agile teams in Cambridge, and East and North Boston. They’ll need a special dispensation for handling the medical, tactical, and severe cases. Projections were originally based on the contaminate fouling the Cambridge water reserves alone; now that the contagion has moved out of the zone, the spread is exponential. Projected mutation, burn out, and infection rates are in your packets.”
“Leaving bodies lying around at the airport didn't help,” Colonel Mac Bradley scoffed, loosening his tie. He was sweating profusely. “We should have nuked ‘em in the desert.”
“I know it's hot in here, but let's keep this civil, Mac.” General James nodded.
Major Hector Sanchez stood up and took over the presentation from Dr. Hammersley. He changed the computer display to a strategic set of diagrams showing the battle offensive.
“They just got up and walked away.” Bradley raked his fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. “They’re eating each other. You haven’t seen them up close, sir. They just got up and walked away.”
General James nodded for an aide to fetch Colonel Bradley a glass of water and motioned for Sanchez to continue the briefing.
Bradley shook as he sipped his water. Sanchez continued, addressing the room, “The scope of this offensive isn't broad. There have been violent conflicts, here and here.” Sanchez clicked points on the map. “And vampire strongholds exist at Sand and Gravel, The Science Museum, and Bunker Hill. They’re using zombies as an offensive affront, and we'll take them out with armed forces alone. With our base at the Garden, through the tunnels, we can go straight in and get right out, minimizing losses.”
“Sir, I beg to differ. The tunnels are a maze of trouble.” Colonel Daniel Campbell pointed at the map. “Ascertaining the layout, even with the blueprints and radar, is problematic. Sending in the couriers is our best option for staying ahead of the chaos. I don't like using civilians any more than you do, but I know we can attain a reversal with the right detachment, sir.”
The General held up his hand, stopping the presentation and turned to Dan Campbell. “The couriers?”
Campbell nodded. “Yes, sir. They know the city, and we can keep them safe. We'll arm them with stun guns and our troops will be with them, by their side. They’ll be able to route the infected out from hiding.”
The General looked at Dr. Hammersley. “What do you say?”
“Tasers should work to disrupt the central nervous system, but I must state, for the record, I feel it's unethical to send them in without more training,” said Hammersley.
“We don't have the time, but the last thing we need are mistakes. We need innovative strategies to drive this task to completion,” said James.
“Under the gun. No time, no time,” muttered Bradley, raking his hair.
Hammersley was about to speak when Campbell interrupted. “Ma'am, if I may, General James, I understand your concerns, they'll need to stay on task, but I have every confidence in the man leading them.”
“You're sure this will work, Danny? We need them flawless and relentless,” said Bradley.
Campbell nodded. “Out of the thirty-eight candidates, five made the cut. We're dispatching them throughout the city with accompanying squads. For the run through East Cambridge and into the North End, only one got through into the 98th percentile. He's our man.”
“Who was that Colonel?” asked Hammersley.
“Ervin Kentigern.” Dan crossed to the computer and flicked the screen to an image of Trips with his family at the State House.
“Wait, isn’t that the Senator's son?” she asked.
The Colonel nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. I oversaw his training at West Point, personally. I have every confidence that we can control the situation on the ground. You have to understand. We can't rely on technology in these neighborhoods. This is a radio silence offensive. Communications are dodgy at best and the vampires have been intercepting transmissions. We need well-trained troops that know the area like the back of their hands. I promise you, Ma'am, we're not transforming this into a crusade, but we do need to strike - fast and hard. This team will do just that.”
“This is close to the bone,” General James glanced at Campbell. “If you’re going to make that flight, Campbell, hadn’t you better get a move on?”
Chapter 17: So You're Ami?
Ami searched for a route through the crowd at Herald’s Quick Courier’s toward the garage. The HQ party won’t let up ‘til dawn, but I can’t leave until I speak to Ichiro. I imagine he’s holding court in the back office. He might still be coherent. A crack of light through the low storm clouds distracted her and she watched the sky until a woman in camouflage blocked her view.
“Orders to get you home, Ma’am,” the buxom soldier said, touching her cap in salute.
“Ah, yeah, I know.” Ami hitched her thumb toward the street where an SUV had just pulled away carrying her best friends and fiancé. “You wouldn't happen to know where they're going?”
“I'm sorry, ma'am.” The officer pursed her lips into a hard line.
Not getting any info out of this one, Ami thought. “Ah, yeah, well, I'll be back in a just a minute.”
“I'll need to escort you, ma'am.” The soldier stepped in toward Ami.
“What? Why? I’ll be right back.” Ami arched an eyebrow.
“Orders, ma’am.” The buxom woman tilted her head and offered a grimace.
Ami rolled her eyes. “Fine, then let's go.” She pointed at the garage. “We’re going to the offices to see my friend, Ichiro.” It so weird describing Ichiro as a friend; he’s been a bad boyfriend, a terrible ex, but for lack of a better term, I guess, he’s still my friend. I don’t know, frenemy? Ugh, whatever.
She dismissed the verbiage and led them toward the barbecue pit. Traversing the throng, Ami was surprised to find that the drag queen, towering over the multitude, was sizing her up just as she was sizing him up. The Caucasian seven-foot tall man dressed as Marie Antoinette extended his hand and snapped his well-manicured fingers. “Girlfriend. I heard all 'bout you.”
Ami smiled darkly at him. “Yeah? Well, I’m even better than they said.”
“Ooh, would you listen to her?” The drag queen said, placing his hands on his hips. He tilted his head at someone in his circle. “Miss Thing is here.”
A little man with thinning dark hair and glasses shouldered his way over toward her. He folded his arms over his Brooklyn tee. “Know who I am?”
Ami knew exactly who he was. She arched an eyebrow. “In my way?”
Mark snorted, and cocked his head to one side, his glasses sliding off his nose. “Rude.”
For some reason the glasses reminded her of Ichiro, she softened. “Seen Ichiro? I've got to talk to him.”
He pointed at her chest poking the air. “I asked you a question.”
Ami was tired of this game and tried to sidestep around Mark. “I don't have time for this.”
Mark raised his hands in the air. “Do you know who I am? Simple question, yes or no bee—otch!” He looked up at Marie Antoinette. “Oh, my God, he could do so much better.”
Ami's armed escort took a step forward. “No need to get like that. What's your name, guy?”
Ami smiled. “He's Mark Marc. A friend from New York.” She met his unflinching stare. “Let's go.”
“Anytime you need help with them brambles you call hair, you just let us kn
ow, honey.” Called the African-American drag queen with the platinum blond wig.
Ami clenched her jaw, pushing through the crowd. I will not be baited.
As they made their way through the crowd, Ami thought about what she’d learned that morning. Trips confirmed he had a relationship with Mark, but I’m still not clear on whether it was sexual. He seems hetero. Maybe it’s just Mark wanted it to be. When I was dating Ichiro, Trips would disappear to New York almost every weekend. She thought back to the gaming circles at their apartment and remembered Mark flirting with Ichiro’s tall, handsome and apparently oblivious roommate. I guess Trips went to New York to escape Ich and me. With that animation he made, I guess he really did have a crush on me for a long time. Maybe Mark was jealous. She’d never noticed until now.
Ami’s recollection was broken when DM tapped her on the shoulder. Her gay steampunk plumbers, DM and Tim O’Dation were wrestling their way through the crowd toward the garage as well. “Hey Ami, s'up?”
Ami sighed and smiled. “Man, it’s crazy here. Do you guys know what's going on? I just want to find out where they're going.”
“Who? I can look it up,” Tim O’Dation touched his red glasses.
So, those are computerized glasses, Ami realized. “Trips and the guys. Ichiro is still here, I think. I’m betting he’s in the office, but Dewey, Snake and maybe Alexx. You know, Alexx?”
Tim O’Dation nodded. “They went to the stadium.”
Ami frowned. “The stadium. What’s at the stadium? You sure? I haven't been able to track them with Ichiro's GPS. I loaded the upgrade, and still nada.”
Tim nodded. “We can look at it for you.”
“Chill, Ami, it's okay,” DM said, putting an arm around her and whispering, “Who's the narc sticking with us?”
“She's my escort.” Ami rolled her eyes. “Long story.”
“Ichiro won't say anything with her around.” He eyed Ami's army escort. “'Sides, think he went over to his lab at MIT.”
Chapter 18: Battle Ready
Boston Under Siege (Book 1): Virus: Page 12
