by Javan Bonds
Bob bit his lip and fought a sob. He knew what had happened here. The body and the dress on the bed was his madre, and the corpse on the floor was one of his hermanos or maybe one of his sobrinos. His turned male relative had come to attack his madre and she had defended herself. Distraught at having shot one of her own offspring, she lay down and took her own life. There was no note needed. Bob knew what happened in at least this room.
Bob backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. This casa would remain the untouched memorial to his fallen familia. He walked out and down the steps, trying to think of where to go.
When Jefe’s casa was attacked, he had assumed the federales had discovered the underground bunker. They had surely raided it and it was probably bare. Now that he knew the fate of his familia, he just wanted to go somewhere safe and comfortable. Even without the supplies inside, he could survive on the supplies he retrieved from places like the Shell station.
The mechanic walked out of the neighborhood and turned onto the highway back the way he had come down. He could make it back before sunset. Bob promised himself he would never speak of what he had just seen at his former casa.
24
In His Hands
RANDY WAS ABOUT to turn the key to again lock the door. His radio sounded. “Hey honey, can you spare some time?”
He didn’t even bother trying to use proper radio etiquette as usual. An old Willie Nelson song played in the mayor’s head. He playfully answered his wife, “As long as you’ve got the money.”
She caught the reference and fake laughed. “Then come on down to the church. There’s a preacher here having a nondenominational prayer service.”
☠☠☠
Bob accompanied the smiling mayor a few blocks to the church. It seemed every single island dweller was gathered at this meeting house. They found Debbie among the crowd and sat with her. This Brother Brown was already in the middle of his story. “… And the first time I was teaching this youth group, we were discussing how it is not right to judge someone based on their past even if they were a thief or had served time in prison or something. Then we got to talking about tattoos and judging again. All the while I was taking off my shirt …”
According to this evangelist, his upper body was covered in prison tattoos. He had been in the Mexican Mafia in Texas while serving his time before finding God. The mayor found it strange that the preacher didn’t roll up his sleeves or anything to show any of his tattoos.
The preacher knew that the community had just temporarily lost its shepherd. Brother Mike Brown asked if the people of Guntersville would have him as an interim spiritual leader.
Without any further ado, a spontaneous vote was cast. The count showed a one hundred percent unanimous return of yes. The mayor, his wife, and the temporary replacement for The Tech were the only three of the assembled to not cast a vote.
The survivalist mayor and his party did not have a good feeling about this ex-con preacher. He wasn’t sure why they had not voted similarly to the rest of the island. But Randy knew it wasn’t due to any sort of inherent racism on his part. The man did not appear Hispanic. It was doubtful Bob disliked Latinos.
On that thought, he leaned over to Bob and whispered, “I thought you had to be Mexican to be in the Mexican Mafia.” Bob cocked his head as Randy finished. “Brown ain’t very brown, by the looks of it.”
Bob shrugged. “Me no know, Jefe.”
The mayor patted his mechanic friend on the shoulder. He decided he would have a talk with this Brother Brown. Real soon.
☠☠☠
Once the clinging masses backed away from the evangelist, the Collins party approached to ask him some questions. Mike Brown explained that his mother was Mexican. He spoke fluent Spanish with Bob. The preacher then introduced the mayor to his lovely young wife, Lauren.
He gestured to his wife of twenty-seven. “And she’s a nurse practitioner.” He told of her medical training and how she would be glad to do what she could for the community while The Medicine Man was away.
Randy thought that these people were perfect temporary replacements for main protagonists and could provide in their stead. Perfect, if he didn’t have such a bad feeling whenever the supposed creature opened his mouth.
“Sounds like you had an interesting life. I hope the island can learn something from you.” The men shook hands. Randy added as he walked away, “And the people will treat you well.”
The crowd began to swell once again around the snake oil salesman. He smirked. “Oh, I’m sure they will!”
25
Memoirs of Benji 4
Columbus Air Force Base
WHEN COLUMBUS AIR Force Base came into view, it nearly took my breath away. Sure, NVCA and NASCC were big, but I had never taken in the entire bases. As many times as I had landed at Ventura you’d think I’d have paid attention to my surroundings, but I only looked at the strip, the chow, or the bunk in front of me. NASCC kind of snuck up on me and I didn’t get to see it much until we were prepping to land. Columbus, though, was massive. It sprawled for what seemed like hundreds of miles and was an entire city inside a fence. There were hundreds of duplexes, a hospital, at least one church, and at least one strip mall. Not to mention the actual military part, it clearly housed well over a thousand people.
Amazingly, none of the buildings had caught fire and burned to the ground as had a lot of other urban areas we flew over. When we got closer to the base we could see sprays of black spread over the base. Damn! The main gate was open and the barricades were worthless against foot traffic. This would have been a great fortress to hold against the peevies. Even though the radio had remained silent for our approach, I was still hoping. Now, it made more sense.
Dugan’s brother had been the chaplain on base. I didn’t want to break the news to him over the walkie, so I nodded at Devin. My buddy picked up his radio and called out, “Dugan. Landers here. You copy?”
A quick response came. “Roger. What’s up? Over.”
Devin sighed before responding. “Come up to the cockpit.”
“Roger.” He had no fucking idea.
☠☠☠
“No. No. No! Jimmy has to be alive. He’s too smart for these monsters. We’ve got to send a search team!” He was panicking and I really couldn’t blame him. I would have the same immediate response if I was confronted with my family dead or undead.
As I directed the plane to a clearer spot on the tarmac, I could see him coming to a realization. He was accepting what we all knew. His face fell and his chin began to quiver. Devin turned to wrap him in a manly hug. “I know bro. It’s okay, I been there, too.” Dugan mumbled something before the embrace was broken within the customary three seconds.
Dugan swallowed his emotions and straightened. “Okay. What now?” He relented, knowing sending anyone to look for his brother would get him nothing and might actually get some more of his comrades killed.
I began, “Well, I guess we can head to Ala–”
Devin cut me off. “Wait a second! What’s that?” He pointed over to the cargo plane where a deuce and a half was parked on the tarmac behind it ready to load.
I found no reason to be interested. “It’s a C-130.” There was nothing special-looking about the cargo plane.
“Stop. Stop the plane. We need to investigate.” My friend was adamant.
I threw my hands up in frustration. “Fine! What the fuck ever.” I didn’t want to be on this base any longer and I certainly didn’t want to go out of the plane.
There was no way in hell of knowing if there was anything in that hold. For all he knew, they could’ve been unloading fucking uniforms! Devin had to be channeling something or someone with a sight beyond ours. No human would take the risk of everyone in the crew to simply investigate unless they were expecting to find something worthwhile.
I taxied to the plane so our bay door faced the rear of the open cargo ship. We geared up and dropped the hatch, moving slowly and cautiously to the other
open bay door. It was the middle of the day, and the sun was shining. It was strange not to hear any birds. We still exited Azrael 2 like we were in the middle of a hot LZ. The unit moved as one, silently and with weapons on rock ‘n roll, prepared for a cannibal nudist to charge us in the daytime.
You can guess we were not met with gnashing teeth, dirty fingernails to rip us to shreds, or salvos of explosive diarrhea. It was just another day in the neighborhood. We had pumped ourselves up for a peaceful stroll on a silent tarmac. It was bothersome that I found myself wishing for action. I was hoping to fight for my life and those of my brothers. I wanted to send lead careening into blue flesh, to hear shrieks of terror as supersonic rounds destroyed organs and chipped bones. I wanted to barely escape as we emptied magazine after magazine into the ghoulish horde at close range. I had to shake myself from my blood thirst. I should have been happy with my quiet walk.
We came to the open doors, a gaping maw of black inviting us to enter. I was uncharacteristically leading the group, right beside my best friend. He cracked a glow stick and threw it up into the hold. There was movement all over the plane, and then chattering figures rushed from the shadows. I noticed they were moving back further behind U.S. Army crates with various calibers of ammunition stamped on the boxes.
My jaw dropped and I turned to a smiling Devin. “No way. You knew.” He didn’t answer, but his devilish grin was answer enough.
Carmack and Fredericks crouch-walked up the ramp with Dugan and Schwartz walking upright behind. They reached the hinge of the bottom door and Carmack tossed another flare further into the Hercules. Inhuman shrieks of pain could be heard as the quartet opened up on either charging or retreating enemies. Carmack and Dugan above him emptied magazines simultaneously and quickly began reloading.
Fredericks was busy firing on an enemy at his one o’clock when a peevie charged the two men popping in fresh mags. Schwartz unloaded on the animal as it leapt at the men to his side. He was not able to halt its forward momentum even if he did mortally wound the creature. The blue, naked demon collided with the two Marines, blood already pouring from the side opposite Schwartz.
Dugan tried to pull the pistol from his chest holster as he tumbled backwards down the ramp but only succeeded in freeing it from the holster. It fell away uselessly while he, Carmack, and the blunatic that tackled them came crashing to the ground. About three-quarters of the way down a crunch could be heard when Dugan landed for what seemed like the hundredth time on his head and neck. Dugan’s body went completely slack as he continued tumbling.
The monster constantly wailed and yipped, sunlight causing more pain than its hard fall. It tried to shake its head as it continually banged down the dropped ramp. As the three came to a stop, we couldn’t put it down for fear of hitting the others. Shattered bones were jumbled internally, jagged edges poked from beneath blue skin, and organs must have ruptured since the spray of feces slowed to a trickle.
Carmack fared worse than Dugan. He survived. When they all came to a stop, Dugan lay dead or paralyzed on the tarmac, the screaming zombie would soon get a bullet in its brain, and Carmack lay moaning and apparently conscious. He was bleeding from multiple lacerations caused either from broken bones or the tumble. It wasn’t hard to see the jagged stumps protruding from his skin. He was bleeding from his mouth and mouthing something as those with medical training went to assist. While they attempted to save the dying Marine, Devin walked over to the screaming abomination a few feet away from our fallen comrade and sent one round into its skull.
We were horrified, only able to watch as our compatriots fell down the ramp. If Fredericks and Schwartz had not been in the danger zone, Dugan and Carmack probably would have wished us to send some mercy rounds their way. At least, that’s what I would’ve wanted. I can’t imagine the indescribable torture of being beaten to death by gravity.
Carmack couldn’t speak and only mumbled incoherently. One of the medics tried CPR when he started fading, but eventually he was pulled away after it was realized there was no way of saving the man. At the best hospital he wouldn’t have stood a chance. The trauma of having razor-sharp bone fragments dig into vital organs, force themselves through skin, and the damage to the brain from crashing against a metal ramp an uncountable amount of times was too much stress for a human body to handle. Isaiah Carmack already had his eyes closed when he stopped breathing.
Carmack and Dugan were loaded on stretchers and taken to the side as two sailors moved up the ramp into their position. Schwartz and Fredericks tore through the enemy as they awaited backup. Hundreds of rounds had been launched, leaving us to guess at the actual number of infected on the Hercules. Why would they be hiding in a baking metal cave in the open sunlight? There were plenty of houses they could have occupied. All they had to do was turn the knob.
The four men on the front line continued to move forward and the rest of the group moved in behind them. All weapons stayed at the ready, men constantly searching the dimly lit bay. The shooters apparently ran out of targets to turn into hamburger meat about halfway down the hold. The intermittent bursts slowed until eventually only footsteps could be heard.
I squinted, looking to see that they were still upright. “Hey! You guys okay?”
I think it was Fredericks that called back. “Roger. You’re gonna wanna see this.” They were all standing around a crate with their weapons lowered and I didn’t immediately notice the shakiness in his voice.
I saw every member of the group was watery-eyed, and I picked up my pace. I came up beside the group to see what had them all messed up. “What the fuck?” I looked down at a lactating female peevie, who was cradling a young infant in each arm. It had obviously been breast-feeding the young ones before bullets tore through it and the babies.
The gestation for these animals could not have possibly have shrunk to less than a month in such a short amount of time. A new mother had obviously been bitten and so had these babies. Were they the actual children of the mother from before? Regardless, it was incredibly interesting, like something on the Discovery Channel. At the same time it was depressingly petrifying to see that they – we – had just ended the lives of newborns. Who had returned and would never be anything more than ravenous zombies that sought human flesh, but they were fucking babies. We had plugged infants and their mother full of holes.
This was my fault. I felt ultimately responsible for these deaths. I was the one that agreed with Devin to investigate this Hercules. I could have told him to go to hell, but because I had been curious I allowed two men so far this day to meet their horrific ends, and I’d killed a pair of babies as much as if I had pulled the fucking trigger. I would never be able to forgive myself.
The bay seemed clear, men circling every box, checking for peevies. The four on the assault and I stood, barely holding back tears around one of the most heartbreaking scenes we had ever come across. I had never seen children I had killed. Now we stood in front of a mother holding two suckling infants that we had just murdered.
Devin walked up and clapped a hand on my shoulder. He smiled, apparently ignoring the gruesome scene before us. “There it is, just what we needed.” He waved his hand forward to the pallet of ammo cans the body of the female was propped against. The stamp read 5.56MM.
☠☠☠
26
Whatcha Gonna Do
THE FOLLOWING MORNING the mayor rose and spent about an hour working on his roof garden. His wife buzzed over the shortwave. “Somebody’s here to see you.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, seriously doubting this would be another pleasant surprise. Randy Collins was just hoping the good kept rolling his way.
The mayor made his way down and entered his office. He was greeted by a large and muscular Asian man named Hirotoro Sako, a thirty-something former Marine who was covered in tattoos. Mayor Collins could almost swear they had met before.
Hirotoro told the mayor everything he needed to know. He went in-dept
h on his military background. The former Marine Staff Sergeant told of his recent prepping and food storage. The survivalist mayor was happy to hear of his unbelievable firearms stockpile. The part of his story that most excited the mayor was his police background.
Randy could not help but smile. He knew exactly what Toro’s role would be even before he asked, “So does the city need any police officers?”
The mayor was sure that Hammer’s current trip would be a little longer than her last one of four days. He was relieved to have someone with experience as a temporary replacement. He was happy to just be The Hero. “Actually, our sheriff will be out of pocket for the foreseeable future. I think I know just where to put you.”
This man showing up at this time was clearly more than coincidence; Randy would have to give The Screenwriter a thumb’s up. Toro was perfect for the job. He was a big guy with military and police training. The Asian had an armory of guns at his man cave in Albertville. He also had enough food to sustain himself and his family for years. All he asked was that they house him and his family. The mayor felt a little threatened, as he thought that he might be the replacement Expert, but he would gladly step down from the role if an even better candidate took his place. As usual, The Screenwriter let everything fall according to plan.
Postlude
“MO. GRAY FOX here. You read?” I was sitting on the main deck with the rest of the crew when the radio sounded.
