by Tufo, Mark
“What if I told you I was going to detain Lieutenant Colonel Gadsen for acts of treason? Do you still want to take orders from him? At that point, you become complicit, and you’ll also hang.”
“You’re full of shit,” the same person said.
“Okay, Private. Where do you normally work?”
“Supply,” he said proudly.
“You?” I pointed to the woman next to him.
“Logistics.”
I did the same to the remaining three. Two were from the mess hall and another from supply.
“If what Gadsen is doing is so legit, why is he here? Why does he have non-fighting personnel from three different areas?”
“He said none of you could be trusted. That the raiders were trying to take over the base.” The private seemed the most resistant and the most talkative; the others seemed to be questioning what was happening.
“Want to know what nefarious plans I was doing before I had to deal with this?”
The private’s eyebrows creased.
“Sorry, I’m a Marine myself; it’s one of the few multi-syllable words I know. I guess I can thank Deneaux for that.”
“Sir?” the private asked.
“Nefarious means evil, sinful, despicable, really bad, one of those. Anyway, my squad, myself, my family, all those I truly love, we were eating spaghetti and meatballs and not one of us was talking about taking over the base. In fact, we weren’t even talking about surviving the coming storm. We were laughing and generally having a good time. I guess your Stormtrooper colonel was going to storm the building and do what? Shoot us for eating garlic bread? You can see why I’d be a little pissed off about the whole thing, can’t you?”
“He said you were going to kill Bennington so you could take control and then open the gates to the zombies.”
“What’s your name, private?”
“Remy.”
“Like the second baseman?”
“Who?”
“Forget it. Listen, Remy, I don’t know why I keep having to explain this shit. I do not, nor will I ever, want to run this place. Way too much responsibility. I mean, at that point, Gadsen might as well have added that I was going to breed dogs just for the express purpose of kicking puppies.”
“Sir?” the private asked.
“Anyone want to help me out here?”
“Sir, I’m Corporal Hillers.” She’d put her weapon down and had her hands raised.
“You can put them down,” I motioned.
“Gadsen lied to us,” she told Remy and the others. “It’s like when you’re arrested and the cops charge you with a half dozen things to see which ones stick in court.”
“Kindred spirit, you and I, Hillers,” I said.
“Why would he do that?” Remy asked.
“Could someone maybe take his weapon away while he figures this out?” I asked.
Hiller gently wrested control of the weapon.
“Much appreciated,” I told her. Remy looked as if he were having a “blue screen of death,” fatal error, or maybe caught in a computing loop. Couldn’t possibly believe that an officer would lie to him. And right now, that was the case, no matter which of us he ended up believing.
“Now what, sir?” Hillers asked.
“Couple of options. You all leave and head back to wherever you call home and we call it a day, or you go home, grab your stuff and make camp with us. We’re setting up some defenses to deal with the zombies, if and when they get in. Just so we’re clear, Remy, we’re not going to let them in.” He nodded, though he said nothing. “Everyone here and anyone else that might want to come are welcome.”
“And the lieutenant colonel?” Hillers asked.
“I’d be lying if I said a bullet wouldn’t be the best way to deal with him, but I’m going to cuff him up and let Bennington deal with his XO. Maybe he’ll finally realize how dangerous Deneaux is and how wide-reaching her poisonous touch is.”
“Just like that? You’re going to let us go?” Remy was stuck.
“What would you have me do? You want me to call the MP’s and have you arrested?”
“Bad guys wouldn’t call the MPs.” He wasn’t talking to me; seemed to be sorting through the events as best he could.
“Sir, we have a situation,” Stenzel came through on my headset. I looked around, trying to figure out what she was talking about.
“It’s a go,” Gadsen said.
“What are you doing?” I asked in alarm.
He didn’t answer; it was then I heard shots fired. I looked at Hillers. She still had a weapon, as did the others, except for Remy.
“It’s not us,” I told her. I’m sure she had to be concerned for the safety of herself and those with her. My assurances did little to cut the tension.
“He’s firing on our other location. Take him out!” Gadsen ordered.
Remy was reaching for Hillers and his weapon; he was clearly still confused, as was I, to what was going on.
“That’s an order!” Gadsen had moved closer.
“You shut up,” I told him. “We are not firing. Stenzel, need some information. Colonel, on the ground!”
She told me that men had come out of the building and were approaching the other van, the van started firing on them, people were exiting the vehicle and getting into tactical positions. Here I was, pants down, dick in the breeze, smack dead-center in a brewing storm of shit. Gadsen had yet to comply with my orders and his people had yet to comply with his, so at least there was consistency. The more shots fired, the more Hillers and the rest looked around in confusion, and, confusion, in this instance, was going to lead to bloodshed. I could only hope it wasn’t mine.
“Hillers, I’m telling you this isn’t us.” She’d handed Remy back his weapon.
“The bomb?” she asked.
“A ruse. I came out here just trying to see what was going on. For fuck's sake, I was eating garlic bread and meatballs, not making bombs. If you get close enough, I probably have parmesan cheese in my beard.”
“There’s no bomb?” Gadsen was pissed and made a move toward me; he stopped when I turned the rifle on him. “Kill him.”
“Sir?” Remy seemed to be asking me as much as his colonel.
“If you’re looking for my vote, I say nay,” I told him.
The tempo of shots had picked up from the street over.
“Stenzel, I need a sit-rep.”
“Harley Stenzel?” Hillers asked.
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what that had to do with anything.
“Can I borrow your headset?” Hillers asked. She’d moved forward.
I handed it to her, trying to keep my eyes on everything happening. I was thinking about the best way to extract myself from a situation that was looking more and more like it was going to become an active war zone.
“Harley? This is Sara.” I could not hear the response, but there was a visible sigh of relief from Hillers. “We went through basic together,” Hillers explained to the side. “What’s going on?” she asked. There was a bunch of head nods and “uh-huhs.”
“I ordered you to kill him!” Gadsen’s intrusive forehead vein was back, looked like a parasitic worm controlling his thoughts.
Remy was having a truly difficult time not following orders. He was like a programmed machine that needed to do as it was told.
Hillers stopped listening enough to tell the private if he pulled the trigger, she was going to throttle him. She flipped his safety on. For that, I was appreciative.
“Stenzel, says it’s not them.” Hillers handed the comm back.
“And why would you believe her or them?” the corporal that had been driving asked.
“I trust her more than any of you here, including the colonel. If she says it’s not them, it’s not them.”
By this time, BT and half my squad were making their way to us.
“Only you can get in trouble at dinner,” BT said. “I know what’s going on over on the other side; what about here?”
/> “This colonel is a dick. He’s in league with Deneaux. The rest are just caught up in it.”
“Gadsen? I always thought you were a stand-up officer. It just goes to show you can’t always trust your gut. Kirby, Grimm, get him restrained.”
“I will not stand for this!” Gadsen shouted.
“That’s cool; you can sit if you like,” Kirby told him.
“It was a figure of speech,” Grimm told him.
“Sarcasm, Grimm. You need to practice yours. Now cover me. I’m going to zip tie his hands.”
“You will do no such thing!”
“Sir, my senior NCO gave me an order. I can’t disregard it; nothing good can come from that. I’ll be doing push-ups till my arms fall off.” Kirby grabbed the colonel’s shoulder roughly and forced him to his knees before getting behind him; there was a small sense of relief as I heard the familiar plastic click-zip of the restraints going into place. A gag would have been better, as the colonel was still shouting out orders, and most still revolved around killing me.
“You sure do make friends wherever you go,” BT said.
“Hearts and minds, my friend,” I told him. “Thank you for the assist.”
“Assist?”
“Fine…thanks for taking complete control of the situation.”
“That’s better.”
“Let’s go,” I told everyone there. “We’ll go back to the building until this is settled.”
“As prisoners?” Remy asked.
“Merely for the safety of all involved. I don’t know who is fighting over there, and until I do, I’m not risking any of my people—or any of you, for that matter.”
Kirby pulled Gadsen to his feet and got him moving to our new home, a rifle to his back.
“You’ll all be in front of a firing squad come morning,” Gadsen spewed. “All of you! Fucking mutineers!”
“Is he telling the truth?” Remy asked anyone that would answer. This was unchartered waters for him.
“The only one that’s going to get a firing squad sendoff is him,” BT replied. “How does Deneaux do it? How does she turn so many people?”
We were heading back with a quickness. The raging battle sounded like it was getting closer.
Tracy met us at the door. “All of you put your weapons down! There are children here!”
“Um, this is my wife, Tracy. There is no higher authority in this building or my life,” I said.
“I’d rather not,” the driver said.
My wife, who was barely up to his chin, got the finger of death out. “So help me.” She fairly shook. I was impressed with her and the quickness with which the corporal surrendered his weapon. “Once whatever’s going on outside is sorted, you’re all welcome to a meal.”
The van occupants looked around at the many sets of eyes gazing upon them. Going to go out on a limb and say more than a few were feeling guilty for what they had been about to do.
“Do something!” Gadsen shouted.
“Good call. Someone get him a chair and some tape. Make sure you entangle as much hair as possible when wrapping it around his head,” I said.
“I have a sinus condition!” Gadsen was alarmed.
“Because I would find suffocation to be completely terrifying, I will give you one chance, Colonel. Sit down and shut up. You say anything else before your tribunal and I’ll rip my dirty sock off and shove it so far down your throat there’s a good chance it will soak up some of your belly juice.”
“Too much,” BT whispered.
“I figured it was just enough. Stenzel, I need an update.”
“Two from the van are down, the unknowns from the building have an injury; don’t think it’s serious.”
“Let’s go help our guardian angels. Stenzel, if you have a shot, take it. If you can wound, go for it. Corporal Rose, Sergeant Talbot, you two will make sure our guests stay well-behaved.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Hillers told me.
“You can trust her.” Stenzel must have heard.
“Tracy, could you please get all the non-combatants upstairs?”
It was superfluous words; she was already on the move.
“BT, Tommy, Grimm, you’re with me.”
Grimm stopped for a moment, a look of dismay upon his face.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“I spilled spaghetti sauce all down the front of my shirt; I’d like to change it.”
I thought maybe he saw it as a bit of foreshadowing; I could understand that. I was close but not precise.
“Does this make me a red shirt?”
“Didn’t figure you for a Trekkie. You’ll be fine.”
He wasn’t thrilled about it, but we headed out the door.
“Got them pinned, sir. If you come from behind the building and up Western Street, you’ll be right behind them,” Stenzel said.
“And our guardians?” I grunted as we were running.
“They’re spreading out. I got a wave from one of them; they know I’m helping.”
“Is coming up on them a good idea? Friendly fire hurts as much as enemy fire,” BT said. We had our backs against a wall. I quickly poked my head around.
“Twenty-five yards. Two down, another bleeding but active. They’re not going anywhere,” I said. “Anyone know if a 5.56 can go through a mailbox?” I was looking at the only cover in the general vicinity. It was across the street.
“Suppose it would matter if they’re using ball ammunition or not,” Grimm said.
“Fuck. I’m going for it. Once I get in position, I’m going to let them know we’re here.”
“I’ll do it,” BT said.
“It’s a mailbox, not a school bus. I’ve got this,” I told him. “Tommy, the doorway,” I pointed. There was a recessed doorway on the far side, nearly horizontal to my position. Once there, we would have them in a classic pincer. My hope was they’d give up when they realized there weren’t any other options.
“Just got word, sir. MPs are scrambling,” my eye in the sky reported.
“Great, maybe if we wait long enough, the Royal Mounted Police will show.” Tommy and I moved with a quickness. I dove behind the large blue post box, a breath of relief that Tommy nor I had been fired upon. Their attention was elsewhere and with good reason. Between Stenzel, Winters, and our quote-unquote, friends, they were screwed.
“Surrender!” I shouted, standing just enough to look over the box. My answer came in the form of a high-speed projectile. Tommy fired, blew out the window next to the man that had taken the shot. I don’t advocate unnecessarily killing people, but, in this instance, I would have yielded my stance. The man went full-auto, spraying my area. I could see the bullets denting the metal I had my hand on. A dozen or more shots were just that close to coming out the other side and making me their final resting spot.
“Stenzel…need some help over here!” I shouted over the swarm of angry lead bees buzzing by me. The mailbox sounded like an ill-constructed bell being rung for Mass. BT was on one knee, Grimm above him. They dropped my potential killer, a plume of blood ruptured from his neck. He made a vain attempt to staunch the flow before falling over.
“Surrender!” I yelled again, though this time I didn’t make myself visible. No shots—that in itself was a good sign. “You’re surrounded! The MPs are coming and your colonel is our prisoner! His team now knows this was a coup gone bad! They’ve willingly given themselves up!”
“Bullshit!” echoed out.
“It’s true!” Hiller must have followed us. She was now standing in the street, hands up.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed at her, doubtful she heard.
“They’re making you say that!” came from the shooter.
“Stromski, listen to me. Gadsen was planning on bumping off Bennington; this was the first step, taking out officers loyal to him,” she called.
I shrugged my shoulders; the only people I was loyal to were the ones in that building, but I kept that to myself.
/>
“Get over here, Hillers! We could use the help!” Stromski shouted. I felt confident enough that no shots would be forthcoming while one of their own was out there.
“Ski, there’s nothing to be gained here. Just put your weapon down,” Hillers begged.
With the talking, I figured I was safe enough to take a look at what was going on. Stromski had his weapon trained on Hillers.
“Shit,” I muttered as I got my rifle around. “Stromski, you’ve got at least five weapons aimed at you; don’t waste your life on what Gadsen was trying to do.”
“I believe in what he was doing,” he replied.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” the man next to him said. He placed his weapon down, stood up with his hands over his head.
I know I’d invited Hillers’ group to stay with us; I wasn’t sure I was going to extend the same to this group. When it would have just been a killing in the night, with little risk, they appeared to be all in; now that the tables had been turned, some wanted out. So many people were willing to do evil when no consequences were present. I’m not generally a fan of big government or organized religion, but they did serve a purpose. Without them, a lot of people devolved, became utterly selfish and opportunistic; parasitic scavengers. It was the ones that did good when there was no incentive, when no one was watching, that were the true heroes.
“Don’t you leave me!” Stromski turned his weapon to the man surrendering.
“Hey man, if you want to die here, go for it.” The man started to walk forward. “I’m giving up!” He didn’t get far before Stromski took him down. If the man was willing to do that to one of his own, there was no hope for him, and we were just so much fodder. I hit him just to the left of his eye. His head smacked back against the van, he slumped over, his hanging head forever looking down.
“Clear!” came from the other side of the van.
“Bags?” I asked.
“Glad to see you’re all right, sir,” he said, coming around.
I tentatively stood. “What the hell is going on?”
Overland was next to show himself, his left arm was covered in blood; he had a field dressing covering the wound.
“Any chance you could tell me what’s going on?” I stood.
“Bennington caught wind something might be up; he wanted us out here to keep an eye on you.”
