by JJ Zep
No response.
“Bravo team leader, come in, goddamn it! Why in god’s name are you firing? Why aren’t you waiting for my signal?”
Now a panic-stricken voice. “We’re surrounded down here! Goddamn Z’s everywhere. I have men down, repeat, I have men down. Jesus Christ!” More gunfire, an explosion, screams.
“Bravo team leader hold your position. I repeat, stand your ground. I’m sending a rover. Hang in there, soldier.”
Bamber started directing a unit towards Bravo team’s location. Chris looked up towards where Ruby was frantically wiring a claymore. The snow was heavier, falling in sheets, cutting down on visibility. He saw them though, saw them rising from the snow like blackened wraiths, saw too that Ruby and Chico were cut off.
fourteen
“Ruby!”
Even over the frigid air that seemed to have crept into his bone marrow, Chris felt an icy dagger of fear carve its way up his spine.
“Ruby!” he screamed again, and now she turned and saw them. She was standing maybe twenty feet away, the snow reaching to her shins, the claymore in one hand, a mess of ignition wire in the other. The zombie rose from the snow where it had been lying, rose up onto one knee. Ruby dropped the mine and unsheathed her sword in what looked like a single, fluid movement. A flash of the blade and the creature’s head plopped into the snow. Another lunged for her and she dispatched it and turned towards where Chico stood, head down, focused on the task at hand, seemingly oblivious to the danger. One of the creatures had almost reached him when Ruby launched the Katana, sending it spiraling through the air, to embed itself in the Z’s face. Then Ruby was following her sword, running towards Chico.
“Fox team leader, come in.”
Chris ignored the radio, called for his team to hold fire, to come in closer. Even with limited visibility, he could see that they weren’t going to be able to hold their perimeter. Unless they got moving they were going to be surrounded and overwhelmed.
“Chris, you there?” Bamber’s voice blurted from the radio.
Chris felt a tug at his boot and looked down to see a zombie rising from the snow. He stamped hard with his free foot, caving in the thing’s hideous face, then finished it off with a 9-mil round into the top of the head. Christ, these things were everywhere.
Someone fired off a burst.
“Single shots only,” Chris shouted. “And only when they’re right on top of you. Ruby and Chico are still out there.”
“I’m here,” Ruby said from behind him. The snow was now so dense he hadn’t even seen her work her way back into the circle. He fought back the almost irresistible urge to hug his daughter.
“Chico?”
“I’m here, boss.”
“Okay,” Chris said. “Move in closer. I want everyone in touching distance. We’re going to have to work our way back to the main road and hope one of the rover units picks us up. Get in close and box, two by four, people. Strangler?”
“Boss?”
“You take front and left, Richie, back and right, and have those flamethrowers primed, gents.”
They shuffled into position, forming into a tight arrangement, four ranks of two. By the time Chris led them off, visibility was no more than a few feet. He fought the temptation to veer towards the curb. That would give them a path to follow at least, but the Z’s, emerging from the houses, would likely be at their thickest there. The middle of the road seemed a safer option.
Within a few minutes, he wasn’t even sure they were in the middle of the road anymore, wasn’t sure if they were heading towards the main road or away from it. The world had turned a uniform white, a wall of snow that sometimes excreted carnivorous creatures that flew at them with teeth and claws.
fifteen
Maybe it was the snowstorm that made him come in, maybe it was the woman, maybe it was observing their pathetic efforts at Z conversion and knowing he could do better. Maybe it was just that he was tired of his own company. Whatever the reason, Scolfield waited for a break in the deluge, then left the frigid office where he’d camped out the last two days and crossed towards the strip mall.
“Hey!” he shouted as he stepped from the office building onto the sidewalk. “Hey you!”
The sentry looked up suddenly and Scolfield instantly directed his hands towards the heavens. He wasn’t going to get himself shot in a misunderstanding over his intentions. Especially, when his intentions were purely honorable.
“Yeah, over here, soldier!”
He stepped into the road. The sentry saw him and raised his rifle.
“Don’t shoot! I’m unarmed!”
“Stand where you are!” the soldier barked. “Stand or I’ll fire!”
“Okay, okay,” Scolfield said. He stopped as ordered, stood in the road as the soldier approached. He had time to ruminate on how inappropriate the corporation’s black uniforms were for snow camouflage.
“Who the fuck are you?” the soldier barked.
“I’m Scolfield. Used to work for you guys back in San Jose. I’m a friend of Captain Benson.”
“Colonel Benson,” the soldier corrected.
Colonel? Benson was upwardly mobile.
“Colonel Benson then. He was still a captain back when I knew him.”
The sentry considered that for less than a second. “Yeah, well that’s irrelevant anyway. My orders are no one gets through. Didn’t even know there were any people left in this shit hole.”
“There aren’t,” Scolfield said. He gave the soldier a feeble smile. “Well, except for me, that is.”
“Whatever,” the soldier said. “You need to move on.”
“Look, Corporal…” Scolfield read the nametag above the soldier’s pocket. “Barry… Is that your first name or your last? No matter, why don’t you just take me inside, let me speak to Bobo directly. I’m sure he’ll straighten this all out.”
“I’m not taking you inside. And I’m not telling you again either. Move on, keep walking, don’t come back.”
Scolfield stood his ground. He was looking over the corporal’s shoulder, towards the fertility clinic. There was movement back there.
“Looks like you won’t have to take me inside after all,” Scolfield grinned. “Here’s the man now.”
The corporal half-turned, seemed to realize that Scolfield might be playing him, and swung his attention back. Scolfield was sure that Corporal Barry had seen Benson striding towards them though, a black colossus against a white background, his face carrying an expression of deep displeasure.
“Hey Bobo,” Scolfield cried out when Benson was still fifty feet away. “Fancy meeting you here. What brings you to New Jersey?”
“Scolfield,” Benson said as he approached. “Heard you were dead. Knew it was too good to be true.”
“Now is that any way to treat an old friend?”
“You ain’t no friend of mine.”
“You still sore about what happened in San Jose? Because if you are, your anger is misplaced, my friend. Blame the politicians who pulled the plug, not me.”
“Save it for someone who gives a shit,” Benson said. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Scolfield said. “Why, I’m here to help you with your Z problem, of course.”
sixteen
They found the coffee shop purely by accident. They’d been walking for what seemed like hours when Chris bumped up against a wall and trailed his hand along until he touched the smooth glass surface of the shop front. He followed that towards the corner of the building where he found brick again, and a door. A few shoulder charges between him and Strangler and the door gave, spilling them into the store.
In the pallid light, Chris could make out a small space with a counter, a few tables and chairs and a row of booths lining the window. The menu, offering expressos and cappuccinos and sandwiches, was fixed to the wall behind the counter. On another wall was hung a collection of photographs featuring Al Pacino in his many movie roles - Tony Montana in Scarfa
ce, Colonel Frank Slade in Scent of a Woman, Mumbles in Dick Tracey. Chris realized with amazement that this was Pacino’s, the coffee shop on the street they’d cleared yesterday. They’d covered some distance.
“Man, that smells good,” Paulie Di Santo said. “You smell that?”
Chris sniffed the air and did, the faint taffy scent of coffee beans, still detectable after all these years, as though it had been absorbed into the walls and fixtures of the store.
“No coffee, I’m afraid,” Chris said. “But at least we’ve got a place to hole up until this storm blows itself out. Then we can make our way back to the base. It’s not that far. This is the street we were on yesterday.”
“This is where we were yesterday?” Julie said. “Is that possible? That we’ve covered that much ground?”
“Looks that way,” Chris said, but that wasn’t the biggest miracle. To him the biggest miracle was that they’d made it this far without losing anyone.
“Maybe we should radio in,” Paulie said.
“We could,” Chris said. “If we had a radio. It’s sitting under three feet of snow back where we came from.”
“Sorry boss,” Chico said. The radio had been his responsibility. Chris didn’t blame the kid. Things had gotten out of hand very quickly back there.
“Let’s just sit tight,” Chris said. “Someone want to get those drapes? That whiteness is killing my eyes.”
***
“You saved my life back there,” Chico said.
“It was nothing,” Ruby said. Even in the chilly room, she felt heat rising to her face.
“Nothing?” Chico said. “Girl, if it wasn’t for you I’d be wandering around in the snow right now, looking for someone to chew on.” He stretched his hands out in front of him, cocked his head at an angle and squinted his eyes. “Ruuuubbbbyy,” he said in a voice that reminded her of Frankenstein’s monster in an old black and white movie she’d once seen. Despite herself, Ruby giggled.
“You have a cute laugh,” Chico said and Ruby felt herself blushing again.
A silence fell between them that was filled by muted conversation from the others, by the banshee wail of the wind from outside.
“You saved my life. You know what that means don’t you?” Chico said.
“What does it mean?”
“It means I now belong to you.”
“Oh,” was all Ruby could think of to say.
Then Chico slipped his hand into hers and she realized that she wouldn’t mind him belonging to her at all.
seventeen
Dr. Alex Payne looked up from the papers she was studying by the dim light of a reading lamp. “Who’s this?” she said dismissively, glancing briefly at Scolfield before returning to her work.
“This is Scolfield,” Colonel Benson said. “One time Resurrection Man working out of San Jose.” He said it like it was an insult.
“Uh huh,” Dr. Payne said. She ran her finger along a column of figures, then stopped and peered into the light. Scolfield was disappointed to see the pockmarks that peppered her cheeks and spoilt what might otherwise have been a pretty face. The doctor paused in her work, looked up from her papers.
“Marin Scolfield?” she said. She was paying attention now, all of her former boredom exorcised. “The Marin Scolfield?”
“You know me?” Scolfield said. He had been angling his head to see if he could get a peek at Dr. Payne’s feet. Now he came to rapt attention.
“I know your work.”
“Really? You’ve read some of my stuff?”
“All of it,” Dr. Payne said. “Several times. It’s very interesting, very brave, inspired even.”
“You really think so?” Scolfield was beaming now. At last, someone who understood what he was trying to do, a fellow believer, and a pretty one at that.
“I absolutely think so,” Dr. Payne said. “I’ve been trying for months to get Marcus to allow me to try some of your hybrid BH-17 formulae.”
“And?”
“He says it’s too dangerous.”
“Small minded,” Scolfield said. “I had the same thing with Knox Pendragon. Small minds that fail to see the big picture.”
“Have you ever pushed through with your experiments, I mean, have you ever created a live one?”
“Oh yeah,” Scolfield said. “Seven.”
“Seven! And are they –?”
“What are we talking about here?” Benson cut in. “Are we talking about that freak show you put together in SJ? The one that got twenty four of my men killed?”
“I’ve come a long way since then,” Scolfield cut in. “I can control them now.”
“And you’ve got some of these…what do you call them?”
“I call them Zombstrosities,” Scolfield chuckled.
“Good name,” Benson said sourly.
Dr. Payne ignored him. “Well, have you?”
“Regretfully no,” Scolfield said. “I had an…accident at my facility.” To himself he said, for which that little brat and her daddy are still going to pay.
Dr. Payne looked disappointed. Her face lapsed back towards the bored expression she’d been wearing when Scolfield had entered the room.
“I can create more of them though,” Scolfield said, instantly recapturing her attention. “That’s why I’m here actually. To offer my services.”
“Your services are not required,” Benson said. “Matter of fact, you were just leaving.” He grabbed Scolfield by the arm, wrenched him towards the door.
“Let him go, Colonel,” Dr. Payne said.
“With all due respect, Doctor, I’m the officer commanding this mission. Mr. Scolfield’s services are neither wanted nor required. Mr. Scolfield is out of here.”
“With all due respect, Colonel. I’m the one delivering your daily shot of BH-17. Mr. Scolfield stays.”
eighteen
“Who?” Councilman Joseph Barlow said into the phone. “Here?” He listened briefly, shaking his head as he spoke. “No, absolutely not. I won’t see her. Call security, tell them –”
The door to his office swung open and a beautiful woman stepped across the threshold. Barlow recognized her immediately. She was the one who put Ray Bono and Little Tommy in the hospital. He paused with the phone still clutched to his ear, his mouth gaping open. Then he put on his politician’s face and flashed a beaming smile.
“Ms. Goodwillie,” he said, replacing the receiver. “How lovely to see you. Please, come in. Take a seat. I only have a few minutes to give you, I’m afraid. I’m running late for a meeting.”
Justine Goodwillie crossed the room with the slow, languid steps of a catwalk model. Despite the cold weather she was wearing a grey business suit, over a white pinstriped shirt, two buttons undone. Her hair was up and a pair of glasses rested on her nose. She had a coat thrown over her arm.
“So glad you could see me at such short notice, Councilman,” Justine said, tossing her coat onto one of the chairs and extending a hand towards him.
“Always happy to accommodate my constituents,” Barlow said, taking the hand. What the hell was she doing here? Where the hell was security? “Now, Ms. Goodwillie, what can I do for you?”
Justine lowered herself into a chair and crossed her legs demurely. She looked at Barlow over her glasses, through eyes the color of a wintry sky. “Actually councilman,” she said. “It’s what I can do for you?”
“Oh?” Barlow said, leaning forward in his chair. Justine had just spoken the magic words. If Barlow were a fish, he’d have just taken the bait.
The phone jangled on his desk. Barlow picked it up, spoke into it. “No, that won’t be necessary any more, Gretchen. Yes thank you, sent them on their way. False alarm I’m afraid.”
He replaced the receiver. “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”
“I was saying, councilman, that my visit is about what I can do for you.”
“Yes, I heard that part,” Barlow said. “And I confess I’m intrigued. The thing is Justine, may I call you
Justine, the thing I’m wondering is not so much what’s on offer…” He had a pretty good idea what that was. “The thing I’m wondering is, why you’d want to do anything for me at all. Our limited acquaintanceship hasn’t exactly been convivial.”
He indulged in a nervous little chuckle.
“I’d be lying too if I didn’t tell you, I’m wondering if this might not be some kind of sting operation set up by the mayor.”
“You think I’m wearing a wire, why don’t you frisk me?” Justine said giving him a dreamy smile that set his pulse to racing. Barlow felt heat rising from under his collar, felt his heart play a little triplet in his chest. He imagined himself putting hands on Justine as she’d suggested. To his dismay he realized he had a raging hard on.
He took a while to compose himself, a task not helped by the suggestive way she was looking at him. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said, his voice a breaking falsetto. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, listening isn’t a crime now, is it?”
“No, it isn’t,” Justine said.
And so she spoke and he listened, at first with dismay and then with horror and then with the anticipation of realizing his life’s dream.
nineteen
When if became clear that the snow wasn’t going to let up, Chris drew up a sentry roster and Fox team prepared to hunker down at Pacino’s for the night. They were tired and hungry, but with the blizzard blowing outside they were stuck here. At least they were out of the storm and in an area they’d already cleared of Z’s. It could have been worse.
“Man,” Paulie said. “That coffee smell is driving me crazy. We get out of here, the first thing I’m gonna do is brew myself a cuppa Joe.”
“First thing I’m doing is getting out of these boots,” Julie said. “My feet feel like they’ve been resting in the icebox for a week.”
“Why don’t you take them off ?” Richie said.
