“Because I intended on keeping him that way. I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, kid, but there’s been some crazy shit going on around here.” Bishop pointed a finger toward the parking lot. “How many of these things have you seen walking around out there with that same exact injury?” Bishop motioned toward the dead man on the floor. “Or worse, for that matter. Somehow this shit is bringing them back,” Bishop said, pausing to allow that implication to sink in.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Cap, what the hell are you talking about?” Jones said, stepping into the conversation. “What are you not telling us?” He approached Bishop.
Bishop stood there in stoic silence as if considering his reply.
Vindetti stepped over to the group of men. “Uh, guys . . . In case you’ve forgotten, our prisoner just took off.” Vindetti jerked a thumb toward the door.
Bishop shot a look toward the parking lot.
“Fuck!” Bishop shouted. “Come on, he couldn’t have gone far,” Bishop commanded, holstered his pistol, and retrieved his MP5 from off the littered floor. Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, he headed for the door. He paused and half turned toward his remaining men. “That’s an order gentleman,” and with that, he stepped out of the front door and into the blazing parking lot.
Chapter 21
Marvin scrambled through the shattered door frame and into the parking lot, using the distraction the explosion had provided to his advantage. Marvin risked a glance over his shoulder to see if his escape had been noticed. Luckily, for him, the men that he had left inside of the gas station seemed to be occupied with the snarling form of a one armed assailant. Marvin observed the scene for a brief moment taking notice that the one attacking them happened to be the young injured man that had been lying on the floor when they had brought him in. Damn, Marvin thought, realizing the poor bastard must have turned after they removed his appendage. The man writhed and lunged at his captors with vicious ferocity. Marvin smiled to himself briefly. “Serves you assholes right,” he muttered to himself. As he moved forward waves of intense heat hit him as the tanker truck on the opposite side of the parking lot set ablaze.
The roar of flames was deafening in his ears as he made his way away from the building. Marvin froze as the sound of a gunshot resounded behind him. Putting his hands up, he slowly turned back toward the gas station. The doorway was still empty, the men inside obscured by heat distortion and smoke.
Marvin shook his head, feeling foolish. The gunshot had not been meant for him. At least not this time, but that could change at any second. Marv turned back around and looked for an avenue of escape. To his right was a wall of flame. After his years of working with explosives and pyrotechnic devices, it was blatantly obvious to Marvin that the explosion had been deliberate, but caused by whom? To his left, well, that had been the original pathway he’d come from, and he didn’t much like the idea of backtracking. Not much choice, however, he mused.
Marvin began to limp in that direction when movement to his right caught his attention. A lone figure materialized seemingly out of nowhere and stepped out from within the recesses of the flames. A charred, smoldering form shambled toward Marvin. Its clothing was completely seared away, save for shreds of a plastic-like material that bubbled along its feet. Strips of brightly colored rivulets stretched out, clinging to the asphalt beneath as it moved closer.
Marvin shuddered as the smell of cooked flesh assaulted his nostrils. The scent of burnt hair and fat wafted up and struck him full in the face like a hammer. The figure’s exposed teeth gaped open as it tried to moan. Nothing escaped but a small hiss of air as the flesh surrounding his neck and trachea had all but been burned away. The figure stumbled toward Marvin, on charred legs, with outstretched hands. Marvin saw the cracks in the skin that ran along his fingertips and exposed bone and muscle beneath. Instinctively, Marvin reached for his sidearm. Realizing the moment he laid his hand on the empty holster that it was gone, his weapon having been stripped from him during his initial liberation from the cell tower.
Another figure shambled around from behind the burning vehicle. This one still wore clothing that was set ablaze. Flames danced off its shoulders and fanned upward as it moved.
“Ah, shit,” Marvin cursed, backing up, nearly tripping over a discarded piece of scrap metal that must have blown away from the tanker truck when it had exploded. He glanced over his shoulder and, to his surprise, saw a familiar face staring back at him just within the tree line.
“Kyle?” Marvin shook his head in disbelief. “It can’t be,” Marvin breathed.
Kyle waved frantically to him from within the trees, motioning for the old man to run.
Marv cast one last glance at the approaching creatures and then over toward the gas station door, expecting his captors to burst through the opening at any moment.
Kyle waved again this time with more urgency.
Marvin relented. Gritting his teeth, Marv took off in his own semblance of a run. It was more like a fast paced wobble than anything remotely resembling an all-out sprint.
Marvin reached the tree line and ducked inside, nearly out of breath, and huffing like he’d just run a five-K triathlon. The pain in his knees was so intense he nearly fell to the forest floor as Kyle and another man caught him. The other man, the cop from the highway, Marvin realized, stood there holding him by the elbows. Marvin looked at the two men dumbfounded, resting his eyes on Kyle.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Marvin asked, cocking and eyebrow, giving his partner a once-over.
“Sightseeing,” Kyle replied without missing a beat. A sly grin spread across Kyle’s worn face; he stepped forward and embraced the old man in a bear hug that nearly tore the wind out of him.
****
“Hey, hey, hey, now ease up. You gonna break my hip.” Marvin gave me sly wink. I released him. Marvin coughed and rubbed his aching knee. He stood erect and clapped me on the shoulder. “Seriously, I thought you were dead.” He let out a sharp sigh. “Glad to see you made it, kid.” Marvin allowed a broad smile.
“Likewise, Marv. We thought you’d been roasted like a chicken in that tin can.” I shook my head with the memory of the attack on the highway. “How did you manage to escape?” I asked casting a glance at Marvin’s leg.
Marvin shrugged. “Well”—Marvin scratched his head—“Getting hit with that frigging missile was a good indicator that it was time to slip away,” Marv said with an edge of sarcasm and thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “So I managed to sneak out before the goon squad showed.” Marvin cast a glance back at the gas station. “Lot of good that did me.” He frowned.
Richard quietly tapped me on the shoulder. I paused and looked in his direction. A look of concern was etched across his dark features, and he held a finger up to his lips, motioning for us to be silent. He then pointed out toward the parking lot. The infected that had chased my partner out of the lot were seemingly locked onto our position and headed this direction.
One figure was charred and blackened from flame, his skin flaking off in hot dark-gray cinders as he moved. Steam rose from his body and sent fine wisps of smoke streaming into the air. Its mouth stood agape, opened wide in what looked like a silent scream. The second figure walked several feet behind the first, this one seemingly in better shape, although half of his right arm and midsection were currently being consumed by flames. Dried blood coated his mouth and neck and stippled the front of his dirty T-shirt. This one snarled and quickened its pace as it spotted us in the tree line.
“Shit! I think we should get—” My suggestion was cut off as the front door of the gas station burst open. A large black man and aging white guy ran through the portal, followed by two other men shortly after. The four of them fanned out into the parking lot, taking care to steer away from the burning tanker truck. The infected that were headed our direction paused, taking interest in this new prey, and advanced on them.
The gnarled older agent was the first to react to the threat. He raised
his weapon barely taking time to aim and fired. A round punched through the head of the closest fiend, the one that still held some resemblance of a human. It fell to the asphalt sprawling, the flames that consumed his side still licking upward and spreading onto its back.
The second limped toward the four men, pausing as if to choose between them. The muscle-bound black man took the initiative and closed the distance between them in a flash. Without hesitation, he swung the butt of his rifle up at the creature’s skull. The rifle connected with its temple with a sickening crack. The charred thing’s head seemed to implode with the amount of force that was behind the blow. The scorched bones shattered and flew apart as the large man followed through with a swing that would have made Babe Ruth jealous.
I actually envisioned the man pointing out into the distance as if to say where the creature’s head was going to land. Sometimes I don’t even know what the hell is going on up there in my lofty brain.
I refocused back on the situation at hand and gasped. A white-haired man, tall, slender, a sense of command about him, stared directly at me. He cocked a half almost-wicked smile and motioned to his men. His men polarized on our position and slowly began to head in our direction.
“Fuck!” I said in a harsh whisper. I gazed from Marvin to Richard. “What the hell are we going to do?” I rasped, feeling acid burn at the back of my throat. I felt the fringes of panic begin to build within me. What the fuck were these guys after? I thought.
Richard looked over at me and drew his sidearm.
I frowned, thinking that this was it. I was going to die here, in the woods, possibly in a ditch (Mom always said I would end up in a ditch someday). All I wanted to do was go home. Kiss my wife, run my fingers through her silky hair, and then collect our children and run for the hills. I didn’t want to be here. None of this was right; none of this could possibly be happening. A voice bellowed out over the distance and snapped me back to reality.
“To you fellas hiding out back there in the woods, you can come out now. We’re not gonna hurt ya. We just want to talk. We believe you have something that belongs to us,” the white-haired man said, lowering his weapon to face the ground. I noticed his compatriots didn’t follow suit.
“What could we possibly have that these ass-hats want?” I asked in a low voice, speaking to my friends. Marvin cast somewhat of a guilty glance over at me. “What?” I asked, catching his demeanor.
“There’s a file,” Marvin stated, “in that case that we were carrying to Brantley and Reese this morning. You know, the one with all the fancy doodads on it.” Marvin made a blinking motion with his hands.
“Yeah, I remember it, I had a hunch it may have had something to do with that. What kind of file?” I asked, wondering what kind of information could cause this much of a ruckus. It was bad enough to be facing some potential plague that turned people into flesh-eating freaks, but to add being hunted by the government’s golden boys was a bit much. Especially since, at least I would think, this disease would more or less take precedence over anything we would be transporting. You know, zombie-like creatures attacking people and making more zombie-like creatures trumps confidential documents sort of precedence. I paused considering the implications. “What was in the file?” I asked with a bad feeling creeping up inside me.
“Medical research, I think. I couldn’t really make heads or tails of it but . . .” Marvin sighed and shrugged. “Part of me thinks we should just hand it over, but then again, the part of me that has been through war and seen this type of situation before thinks there is no way in hell they’re going to take it and let us walk out of here.” Marv gave me a dead-serious stare.
I didn’t know what to think. What kind of medical research could make these guys want to kill us for seeing it? I mean, I know this stuff going on was bad, completely fucked actually, but why would they want to take us out for it? I scratched my head considering, unless, unless they already knew about it . . . and this was their attempt at a cover-up. I blew out a long breath and stood. I carefully walked over to the tree line, placing myself behind a rather sturdy-looking oak tree, figuring if these bastards started shooting, at least it would provide me with some type of cover. Marvin cast me a wild glance.
“Kyle, what on Earth do you think you’re doing? Get down!” the old man hissed.
I waved him off. I peered around the base of the oak tree, hugging up against its rough-textured surface. A line of ants busied themselves up the side of the large trunk; and I did my best to avoid crushing the little creatures. I peered out from behind the tree and observed the four expectant men, considering what I was going to say. I couldn’t think of squat at the moment. Ah, well, fuck it, I thought.
“What exactly is it we’re supposed to have, sir?” I said loud enough so that my voice would carry the two hundred or so feet away, just to be certain that the gathering of agents could hear me. The white-haired fellow looked dubiously over to his subordinates.
“Sir, we know for a fact that your man has what we’re looking for,” he said, giving me a hard stare.
I glanced back at Marv, and he waved a middle finger in the air. I rolled my eyes and turned to face the agents. “And what exactly is it you’re looking for, sir? Swear to God, if you say free samples, I’m going to start shooting?” I said, casting Marv and Richard a sly grin. Marvin rolled his eyes knowingly; Richard slapped his forehead. In my line of work, people tended to ask that very same question about five hundred times a day. Everyone thought they were just the most clever and original sons-of-bitches on the planet. My automatic reply to said question was “Nope, but I think I just saw the ghost of Ed McMahon run over that hill with a giant check,” referring to the old Publishers Clearing House commercials. Of course in this case, I could always say the infected corpse of Ed McMahon. A skinny grizzled-looking gentleman stepped forward impatiently and shouldered his rifle.
“Let me just shoot him, Cap, so we can get this shit over with,” the man said with a gruff gnarled voice, sounding as if he’d spent the better part of the last thirty or so years smoking five packs of cigarettes a day and shouting at the top of his lungs.
The white-haired man, their commanding officer apparently, held up a hand. “Vindetti, ease up. Let me handle this,” the commander said, and the skinny man cursed under his breath and backed off a step. “Kyle, isn’t it? Kyle Walker?” the man said, looking in my direction. I cast a look of mixed confusion and betrayal at my partner.
Marvin grimaced and returned my gaze. “They got a hold of my ID card. Sorry, kid,” Marvin said with a slight sense of guilt and shame washing over his features.
I shook my head as if to say It’s no big deal. Marvin nodded in understanding. I looked back down on the men in the parking lot.
“So you know who I am, sir. May I ask then who exactly the hell you are?” It was a bold statement, but I figured if we had something they wanted, then maybe I could use that to my advantage. The white-haired man stepped forward slightly.
“I’m Alex Bishop, captain of the Homeland Security’s strategic threat assessment task force. This”—he motioned to the others in turn while he spoke—“is my second agent, Jones. These two are Officers Vindetti and Hooper.”
The three other men stared at me with blank expressions. The one he had called Vindetti looked as if he would rather twist my head off like a soda cap. I smirked slightly. From the looks of him, he could probably do just that; it gave me some type of grim satisfaction, however, knowing that I could have that effect on some people.
“Once again, sir, the file, we know you have it. We traced the case that housed it to this location. It’s imperative that we take it back to our people. You have no right to it, and we’ve already lost men in its pursuit. So, just hand it over so we can all go home.” The captain let the statement hang in the air.
I glanced over at Marvin, and he grimly shook his head. The words he spoke only moments ago hung in my mind like a wraith. They’re not going to let us walk away after seeing
this. I hadn’t even seen the documents in question, but I believed the old man. Hell, I’d trusted him with my life every day for the past ten years, so why stop now?
“Actually, friend, you should check your facts. If we do indeed have this . . . file or whatever you’re looking for, we were given sole dominion when it was signed over to us this morning,” I said, trying to gauge their reaction from my position. “Just because you give me a fancy title doesn’t mean jack in my book. You could claim to be the President of the United Freaking States, and I still wouldn’t give it to you.” I paused. “No, I think we’ll take it to its assigned destination, then if they want you to have it, you can get it from them. Other than that, you can go fuck yourselves.” I looked pensively over at my compatriots and shrugged. Hoping my words made some bit of sense. The agent in charge, Bishop I believe, looked over at his crew and nodded.
“Fine, we’ll do this the hard way,” he stated, and his men suddenly took off in all directions. They disappeared into the surrounding landscape in a flash. Shit, I thought, crouching behind the tree, and pulling my revolver. I looked over at my comrades.
Richard, who still held his Glock at the ready, sought cover on my right flank, taking up position behind another sturdy-looking tree. He crouched low and aimed his weapon into the distance.
Marvin, who was still unarmed, grabbed for a solid-looking branch that lay on the forest floor. He hefted the long piece of wood and took up position to my left, concealing himself behind some leafy branches.
Agent Bishop didn’t say another word. He turned slowly and walked away. He disappeared into the white SUV that set in the gas station parking lot. I watched as the SUV’s engine started. The captain sped off down the road, presumably to a preordained position to regroup with his men. After they had killed us, I thought. Great, all this crap going on, and we’re fighting one another. I shook my head in disbelief.
Dead Pulse Rising: A Zombie Novel Page 23
