Zombie Fallout | Book 14 | The Trembling Path

by Tufo, Mark

  “It would be weirder if they didn’t. We’re not infallible; when whatever happens is said or done, then you move on, you mend the bridges.”

  “Oh, spare me the forgive and forget line.”

  “Is what it is, I suppose.” I stood. “Whatever happens today, you’re not going back to Etna. I’m not letting you have a trial; you’ll not have a pulpit for your poison. Right now, I’m leaning towards exile; I’ll give you the chance I gave Collier. Who knows? Maybe you two can find each other and shack up.”

  The gears were spinning in her head, sure as I was standing there. Then there was a slight smile that played across her lips; I almost expected a forked tongue to dart out. She’d come across something that she liked, but I didn’t wait around to see what it was. Almost dying makes me hungry; I’m amazed I don’t weigh three hundred plus pounds.

  Kirby was piling in something with a grayish hue that looked like cooked asbestos and smelled like it had undertones of Lysol. I’d wanted to eat; that changed my desire.

  “Pretty decent day, all in all,” I said to BT and Winters as I sat down next to them.

  “This was a decent day?” Winters asked.

  “Not dead.” BT ripped into a package of stew.

  “That’s the benchmark?” Winters looked confused.

  “This is fucking horrible and wonderful.” BT was eating quickly. “It’s good to eat something that is still technically food,” he clarified.

  My squad was out of jail, my family seemed to be safe, yeah, there were still problems, but they didn’t seem quite so daunting when you didn’t have a missile pointed at you.

  “BT, I’m going to catch a few Zs…can you make sure Deneaux has eyes on her at all times? Better yet, just handcuff her to something.”

  “Really, man? You can sleep right now?”

  “Military trick,” I told him as I pulled my cover down to shield my eyes.

  4

  Mike Journal Entry 4

  Must have been sleeping pretty good; I woke to Overland kicking my outstretched boots.

  “Land in twenty—going to want to gear up,” he said as he passed me by and relayed the message.

  I sat up groggily.

  “Might want to wipe the drool from your mouth; that look doesn’t do you any favors,” BT said. He was standing, going through his gear.

  I wasn’t coming out of the sleep fog quite as quickly as I would have liked. As my gaze swept over all the activity going on around me, I settled on Deneaux, who was still glowering at me and most likely had been the entire time I slumbered. I shivered, thinking on that visual.

  “Hasn’t moved.” BT seemed to be cognizant of what I was thinking. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she hates you. I can almost sympathize.”

  “Har, har.” I stood; I was immediately going to do a nut scratch, refrained when I remembered my audience. “Screw it.” Scratched away and sighed with content.

  Overland was in a huddle with his group when I approached.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  “Pre-mission ritual, Lieutenant, we’ll be done in a moment,” Overland said as they all grabbed hands. The only female in his group, a Sergeant Walde, said a short but solemn prayer.

  I felt like a third wheel, wasn’t sure if I should stay or go. Ultimately, I thought it better to check on my squad.

  “They have two machine guns, LT, and some bricks of explosives, and that’s it.” Rose had gone through the equipment. “Not really seeing how we’re going to overpower that many zees.”

  “Ammo?” I asked.

  “For days,” Stenzel replied. “And before you ask, I checked it.”

  I opened my mouth.

  “We checked our weapons too,” Kirby added. “I don’t want anyone telling me to break my rifle down in an active war zone.”

  “You can’t still be stuck on that old training manual stuff, can you?” I asked.

  “If it was your ass on the line, sir, wouldn’t you be?” he asked.

  “Fine. Winters, what about medical supplies?”

  He gave me a thumbs-up as he rooted around in his backpack.

  Overland and company came over a couple of minutes later. I noticed him look over at Deneaux before speaking.

  “Don’t worry about her; I think she stroked out and is stuck that way,” I told him. “Gotta be honest, Major, I was hoping we’d have some sort of armored military vehicle.

  “That’s where we’re in luck. We’re heading to the naval base in Saratoga Springs.”

  “Not sure what we’re going to do with a sub,” I told him.

  “Don’t mind him,” BT said. “He’s yet to figure out how to screen his thoughts before they come vomiting out his mouth.”

  “They have armored vehicles there—namely, Strykers,” Overland said. “Looks like a fortified moon lander,” he added when I had what must have been a clueless expression on my face.

  “That going to be enough?”

  “It has a fifty-caliber machine gun mounted on top, heavily armored, weighs nineteen tons, and has eight tires. I think it will be fine.”

  “Will it run?” Tommy asked, referring to how long the vehicle had been sitting in storage.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Corporal Baggelli is one of the finest mechanics I’ve ever known.”

  “Started boosting cars when I was twelve,” Baggelli said as he came up.

  “I bet your mom could get you out of all sorts of trouble,” I said.

  “Not rising to the bait,” Baggelli said, though I could see red fanning up his neck.

  Overland continued before I could get the corporal swinging. “My unit will be inside the vehicle. We’ll blast or crush our way through the enemy and pick up our man.”

  “And what’ll we be doing, looking for a decent sandwich shop?” I asked. “I can’t imagine you risked everything you did to bring us here so that we could be witness to your rescue.”

  “We’re going to need a distraction.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Think it will work?” BT asked after Overland spilled his plan and was finalizing with his group.

  “Lots of danger involved on both sides, and…I don’t know. If Dewey left his horde those standing orders to protect Forsyth at all costs, I don’t know if we’re going to be able to pull any of them away. All we can do is try.”

  “Oh, I just love these.” Rose was hugging a Claymore mine.

  “Yo, Kirby—your girlfriend is nuts,” Grimm whispered into his friend’s ear. I just happened to be close enough to catch it.

  “Say that a little louder,” I told him.

  “Not a chance, sir. Can you imagine if she put one of those under my mattress?” Grimm looked pale.

  “Be the biggest thing that happened in your bed in a while,” Kirby told him.

  “I can’t imagine your ego being alright with playing second fiddle,” Deneaux said.

  “Holy shit, BT! You hear that? Heckling from the cheap seats.” I had my hand up by my ear like I was having difficulty hearing her. “His personnel, his mission. I have no problem helping any way that I can. I realize that’s a foreign concept for you. Pretty sure you’re not going to be able to drive a wedge in now, not with the time you have allotted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important things I need to attend to, and you, Vivian, are not one of them.”

  “You’re just going to leave me out here to die?”

  “Would you rather I left you out to rot?” I asked before loading up.

  “What are you going to do with her?” Overland asked as I was placing full magazines in every pouch I could.

  “I figure we take her in the Stryker, drop her off about halfway to our goal and be done with it.”

  “You’re okay with that? Just leaving her somewhere?”

  “Major, I’m going to tell you with absolute honesty that she is arguably the deadliest person on this plane right now and has not a scrap of loyalty to anyone but herself. If I was a sharper crayon, I wou
ld shoot her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I should. I know in my heart of hearts, I should.”

  “Your call. You want to put a final nail in, I’ll understand. Your gunny filled me in on some of her exploits while you slept. You’ve already shown a restraint I don’t think I would be able to match.”

  “That’s the thing about her; she kills, she saves, whatever it takes to preserve her hide. You want to believe she’s trying to be helpful, but that’s just not the case.”

  “You think she’ll make her way back to Etna?”

  “Not because she wants to, but more like she’ll be drawn to it.”

  “You sure you don’t want to rethink your stance?”

  “I’ve been cycling through it ten times a minute.”

  “This is going to get interesting; you are all going to want to sit down and strap in.” Major Eastwood announced landing in five.

  “What’s so interesting about this?” I asked Overland once I was in my seat.

  “Landing in a county airport.”

  “And?” BT asked.

  “Short. Runway is short,” he told us.

  “I flew first class a couple of times; I miss those days,” BT said.

  Eastman lifted the nose of the plane dramatically, we could hear the whine of the engines as they fought against the drag he was applying.

  “He trying to land this thing on its tail?” Kirby asked.

  We leveled off just as the rear tires smacked onto the tarmac with bone-jarring impact. When the front wheels hit, the engine noise increased exponentially and the brakes were laid into heavily, forcing my body to the side to the point the straps were digging in and I was going to have to become worried about being entangled in them.

  “Not stopping, Mike—how much room you think we have left?” BT asked. My head was nearly in his lap.

  Just then, the plane began to ease up and my forced spinal bifida eased with it. “Fuck.” I looked up; Deneaux had still somehow not moved. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I told her.

  Eastman shut down the plane quickly, trying not to attract too much attention, but anyone within a twenty-mile radius knew we’d landed. What they were going to do about it was the question.

  “We’ve got eight clicks to get to the base,” Overland stated. I looked to Stenzel.

  “Five miles, sir.”

  “You were in the military before, right?” Overland asked.

  “You could have just said five miles,” I told him.

  “Stay away from metric, too, sir,” Stenzel said to the major. “Makes him angry.” My corporal was smiling.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. My unit is going to double-time out, get the Stryker, and come back. For now, I’d like you to keep watch over this asset.” He tapped one of the wheels on the plane.

  “Can do,” I told him. “Good luck.”

  “SEALs don’t do luck,” Baggelli said as he passed by.

  “Good. We’ll keep it for ourselves,” I told him. “Gonna give your mom a call, see how she’s doing.” He flipped me off.

  “Everything must be all right in your world. Got your second finger of the day,” BT said.

  “It does feel good; gives me a sense of normalcy. Stenzel, set up a guard rotation, and could you please make sure Romeo and Juliet here are on opposite sides of wherever you put them? I’m afraid a Yeti could walk by and they’d miss it while staring longingly into each other’s eyes…there’d be heaving bosoms and thrusting…well you know.” I was now embarrassed, considering the gathering.

  “No sir, I don’t know. Perhaps you could explain it,” Stenzel said.

  “You’ve got your orders.”

  She was smiling.

  “You just can’t even help yourself. All I can figure is you like the taste of boot.” BT was shaking his head.

  Eastman and Major Jackson were going over the plane, blocking the wheels and visibly inspecting for damage.

  “Everything good to go?” I asked as they came by.

  “Besides being in hostile territory with no support, everything’s just grand,” Eastman said. “Plus, I’ve got to figure if and when we make it back, I’ll be busted down to captain. Optimistically.”

  “Can’t fool me,” I told him. “You’re a fan of this covert crap.”

  “I’m a fan of doing what’s right.”

  “Fair enough.” I was watching Stenzel give the assignments. “She’s my best NCO by a mile; I think I’ll put her in for a promotion.”

  “Thanks,” Winters said.

  “I mean, besides you.”

  “Thanks,” Tommy said.

  “My best corporal or below, that work?”

  “I can live with that,” Gary said.

  “Going to have too many chiefs and not enough Indians pretty soon,” BT replied.

  “Native Americans,” I told him.

  “It’s an expression, and right now, I don’t think being PC is going to be a problem,” he said.

  “I’ll see if I can get a jump for everyone, if that helps. I think a golden oak leaf would look good on my shoulders.”

  “I don’t think you can go from a butter bar to a major; that’s not how it works.”

  “Field promotion.”

  “You can’t promote yourself.”

  “Who’s going to tell me otherwise?” I asked him.

  “You’ve lost your mind. Can you do something with your other ‘project?’” He pointed to Deneaux, who was about fifty yards away from the plane, smoking a cigarette, her hands still cuffed.

  “Hello, Michael,” Deneaux said as I came up behind her.

  “Vivian.”

  “I’m about to smoke another one; could you light it? It’s difficult this way.” She raised her hands. She cupped my hands as she took a long pull, burned over an inch of the cigarette before she let go. She had to have been a deep seawater diver in another life. “When we all lived in Little Turtle I believed you to be a buffoon, when I thought of you at all.”

  “I love when we have these reminiscing conversations; you always make me feel so good inside.”

  “Well, what did you expect me to think? Walking your dog in shorts, in the winter, who does that?”

  “I run hot,” was all I could think to offer in defense.

  “Most likely from the frying of your brain.” She took a drag of her cigarette, made sure to send the secondhand smoke my way.

  “Is there a point to this?”

  “Do you believe in contingency plans?” She gazed with an unwavering stare.

  A small but unpleasant butterfly began to wiggle around in my stomach, although I was still unsure of where this was going. “I live on contingency plans.” That was as honest a reply as I could give. Wasn’t very often that my first course of action went as desired.

  “As do I.” She finally looked away and to the horizon. She finished her smoke and had me light another.

  “You going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked after a moment.

  “I have people and materials in place.” Again, she stopped short of actually telling me anything.

  “Good for you.” I tried to sound indifferent, but that butterfly had hatched some larvae and they too joined in the wriggling.

  “I don’t think you understand. I have people and munitions in place—should anything happen to me.”

  “You’ve just flown across the entire country, and that’s the best you can do?” I was genuinely hoping for a tell to her bluff.

  “I’m telling you this because there’s still time…time to prevent anything from happening, to the base, and, to those you love.”

  I moved so fast, the blink of her eye appeared to be stop-motion animation. I wrapped a gloved hand around her neck and lifted her from the ground then pulled her in close. “Better start talking,” I told her as I squeezed harder on her windpipe.

  “Lieutenant!” it was Eastman rushing toward me from the side.

  Red was forming around Deneaux’s eyes as they began to bulge.

 
; “Talbot.” BT had come close, but as of yet, had not interfered.

  “Lieutenant Talbot, what are you doing?” Eastman asked.

  “I would imagine skewing the scales in favor of Good,” I said. If I killed her, a great evil would be removed from the planet.

  She was smiling, even as I choked the life from her, she was smiling, her tobacco-stained teeth shone dully in the sun.

  “Put her down,” Eastman commanded.

  Deneaux lightly rested her hands upon my arms; I didn’t know if she was getting off on the rough treatment, or if a part of her wanted me to kill her. Her lips were beginning to turn blue; bluer. By now, most of my squad was watching what was happening.

  “Don’t,” BT told Eastman, who was reaching for his sidearm.

  I realized if I finished this job, I’d never be able to get any more information out of her, though I wasn’t averse to a séance. At least she’d be dead.

  I released my hand. She dropped to the ground roughly. Her hands went to her throat, and a deep, phlegm-filled raspy cough racked her body for the next few minutes. She was on her hands and knees by my feet, and, suddenly, for a moment, she was just a sad, frail old woman. I should have been feeling shame for my outburst, but the only thing I could muster was disappointment for not completing what I had started.

  “You cough up any lung on my boots, I’m going to make you lick it off,” I told her.

  “Lieutenant, have you lost your mind?” Eastman had bent down and was offering her water. I could clearly see the outline of my fingers on Deneaux’s neck; they were a bright red and rapidly heading to purple.

  “Me? Ask the douche canoe you’re helping about the bombs she says she’s planted around the base.”

  “What?” BT asked, moving closer. “Where?” he asked me, then looked to Deneaux.

  She let out a small bark that could be attributed to a seal, an old one, before she launched into another coughing fit.

  “Bombs?” Rose asked. “What kind of bombs?”

  “She’s full of shit!” BT hoped his force of words would be the undoing to the unfolding nightmare.

  “There are Claymore mines scattered throughout some of the common areas,” she said, sitting back on her legs.