Justice

by Gillian Zane

I cracked my eye when a large pothole jolted the vehicle and threw me into the door.

  “Fuck! Watch it, Romeo,” I growled.

  “It was unavoidable,” he responded.

  “It wasn’t his fault,” Lani defended him. “The thing was huge. Come summer the streets are going to be a mess.”

  New Orleans was a swamp. Our streets and houses were built on unstable ground. During the summer the cement heated up and expanded. Fissures in the road often appeared and huge potholes formed overnight. Before Z, the city didn’t fix many of the potholes that formed, unless they became a hazard, leading a lot of New Orleans residents to bitch and get little signs to put in their yard that said, “Fix our streets.” Now there was no one to fill them in, even if there was an inclination. We’d be reduced to expanses of crumbling cement in only a few short years.

  “I remember there was this big pothole, probably more of a sinkhole than a pothole. It formed right outside of our school, and it was so funny. Someone put a flamingo in there and then during Christmas they decorated the flamingo. What part of the city did you live in before Z, Ro–Romeo?” She faltered on his name, which had alarm bells going off in my head.

  I was trying to shut them out and go back to sleep, but something about the way Lani was carrying on had me feigning sleep. I felt kind of protective of her. She was a sweet girl and worked her ass off, something I respected. She was also really young and naive. I didn't want her to get grumpy and jaded like me.

  Men tended to bring out the jadedness in most women. Whether it’s Daddy, or that first awful love, most of the time it’s a guy that fucks us up royally. Romeo was every girl’s fantasy. He had even starred in a few of mine, before I got to know him. Hopefully Lani would realize he was bad news and find someone more in her sphere. She didn’t need to go there.

  “Mid-City,” he answered tersely.

  “We used to live in the city, but my dad moved us to Metairie after the crime got out of hand. My mom was robbed in our driveway.” She looked over at Romeo with that star struck look you only see in young girls and old people with dementia.

  This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  Romeo had been something else before Z. A perfect male specimen. When I got the job at MJ Security, he was the first one I heard about. He and Lucas Martinez had been with Blake and Zach from the start. They were all Marines and part of the same regiment. Romeo was an MJ Security icon when I got there. Known as an adrenaline junkie, he took the hardest, most dangerous jobs Zach and Blake had for him. Before I met him, I had already heard a hundred stories. The other grunts told tales of his exploits like he was a superhero.

  It didn’t help that he was unbelievably gorgeous. One of the prettiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on. By the time I met him in person, I was ready to kick off my panties and take him for a test drive. Not part of my usual routine, so it had even me scratching my head. Luckily though, Romeo opened his mouth and ruined it for me.

  He was such an egotistical bastard. It was almost refreshing. And it pushed him firmly in my no-touch zone. A girl couldn’t carry-on with a guy prettier than her. I was also sure he felt the same way about me. Not the prettier part. The no-touch part. He half-heartedly flirted at first, but it was nothing like what I saw him try with other women. It was almost like an art form. The other guys would take notes.

  Then Z hit. And something happened to Romeo. He was still gorgeous. He was still an adrenaline junkie. He was still the first one to run into the shit, but there was no more play in him. There was no more ego. Or flirting. He was this stoic, mysterious, gorgeous hero. With the brooding bit, he’s even more of a turn-on than he was before.

  We had been a fun group, before Z. You would have thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t, me being the only female in a group of Alpha men. We had been a great team. A group that worked, but most of all, everyone knew how to have a good time. Now all my guys had lost that fun, that spark. It had started when Z hit, but the final nail was when Martinez died.

  All stop. Didn’t want to think about that.

  There was a point to my meandering thoughts and it all came back to the fact that Lani should stay far away from Romeo. For one, she was way too young, and two, she didn’t need a broken man. And there was no question, Romeo was broken.

  “How did you get your nickname?” Lani was desperately trying to make conversation, even though Romeo was down to only grunts.

  “Long story,” Romeo responded. She should be grateful she got two words out of him.

  “Seems we have time,” she said and motioned to the convoy in front of us which was creeping along at a snail’s pace. Ahead of us, Lex was leaning out the window trying to stick a shuffling zombie with a spear. If she fell out of the vehicle, I was going to kill her.

  “It’s not that long of a story,” I yawned. “Romeo was quite a ladies’ man. He could charm the panties off any female and probably a few men. All he had to do was flash that pretty smile. Problem with Romeo, he never could find his Juliet- he sure did try, though. Over and over again,” I laughed. “And over again.”

  He shook his head but didn’t deny it.

  Lani turned around in her seat and gave me an ugly look, I shrugged. It was the truth.

  “I didn’t expect that,” she laughed nervously, trying to cover up her obvious disappointment. “Is that true?” she asked Romeo.

  “That about covers it.” He cocked his head and made some adjustments as the brake lights of the lead vehicle flashed. The conversation didn’t phase him. Since Z I hadn’t seen him break a sweat about anything. “Lead, come back,” he said into the radio.

  “Just got a small herd ahead of us, nothing to worry about,” Zach said through the radio.

  I dug through my bag and pulled out a newly acquired Maxim 9 that I had talked Zach into letting me use. It was from his personal stash, the first line of guns made of its kind with the suppressor built into the barrel. It looked all sci-fi with a large square shaped muzzle, but it fired regular 9mm rounds and had a decent sized clip. I was dying to use it and now was my chance.

  I unlatched the access point in the roof and slid the door back. Bright sunlight filtered in, the sun now completely up. I stood in my seat, bracing myself with the built in handhelds made for this action. I had a 360 view of my surroundings. I only had to stay aware of Romeo’s driving so I wouldn’t fall forward. The vehicle was meant to have a large .50 caliber mounted to the roof where the operator could hang on to the gun. It wasn’t meant to balance and shoot a handgun, but I was a girl that liked to live on the edge.

  I saw Alexis push out the top of the vehicle in front of us. She turned around and screamed, “Fuck yeah!” And gave me a thumbs up sign.

  Then the lead vehicle revved its engine and pushed forward through the large group of the dead. Some fell under the tires, others began to swarm around the vehicles.

  I took aim and fired.

  Headshot. Down it went.

  Aim. Fire. Headshot. Fuck yeah is right.

  Aim. Fire. Miss. Shit. Three more taps and it finally went down.

  The suppressor on the gun muffled the shot so it sounded like a loud pop, instead of a deafening boom. It was still enough noise to attract the attention of more zombies, but Lex shot that all to hell when she chose her semi-automatic M4 and was taking them down in three round bursts.

  “Stop playing around with the fucking nine,” Romeo called to me from below.

  I felt something hit my kneecap, Romeo jabbed me with the rifle to get my attention. I ducked down and grabbed the rifle from his hand and shrugged an apology. I engaged the safety on the Maxim and dropped it into the backseat and pulled up the M4. I could operate this weapon in my sleep. It was like shooting fish in a barrel after that and when only a few remained and the lead vehicle sped up, leaving a trail of dead Zs in our wake, I sat down and secured my weapon.

  “Next time you’re driving,” Romeo declared as he caught my eye in the rearview mirror. I was smiling from ear to ear. I nee
ded that.

  “Don’t worry, hotness, they’ll be plenty of action for you later.” I sat low in my seat, catching a glimpse of Lani’s scowl in my peripheral. She needed to get over that shit, fast.

  TEN | No Better

  “Why do you want me to cut my hair?” Felicity whined as Nick and Pete stared on looking anxious.

  “I’m going to play it straight with you.” I kneeled in front of the young girl whose beautiful brunette hair was probably the only thing she had left to be proud of in this world. It was long and she brushed it every day, leaving it loose and down her back. It wasn’t quite as shiny as it could be, and the ends were frayed, but it was still beautiful. It had to go.

  “You don’t want boys to look at you and admire your looks in this place, Felicity. It’s not a good thing. Not like it used to be. Before the biters you could be pretty, you could be a little girl, pretending to be a woman and it was okay. People still respected that you were young and waited for you to grow up. You only had to worry about a few perverts, men you saw on the news. Now, in here, there are no rules, no jails for men to fear and the men that run this camp are like those men on the news. In this place, pretty means a possession, it means something to be possessed. Pretty means you belong to a man. Pretty means a man can do things to you that you don’t want him to do. If you say no, it won’t mean anything to these men. They don’t care about you or your feelings. They only care about how you look and how you make them feel. I don’t want you to cut your hair to punish you. I think cutting your hair will give you more time. More time to be young. And maybe when you’re old enough things will be different. You’ll be able to have your hair long and not worry about it attracting the wrong attention. Do you understand?”

  “I think so. Is that why they keep my mom away from me? Do they keep her like property?”

  I didn’t know which one was her mother, and I hadn’t seen anyone come in and greet her like a parent.

  “Yes, and they don’t treat their property well, you know this, right? Look how they treat you guys. But once you become an adult in their eyes, all bets are off. They can do anything they want,” I said quietly. A single tear leaked from her eye and trailed down her face. She wiped at it absently and chewed her bottom lip, looking from Nick to Pete. They both encouraged her with a nod.

  “I don’t even want to think about that,” she said under her breath.

  “We have to, that man that was in here earlier, Eagle. He’ll come back and if he sees a pretty girl, he’ll want to move you out of the kids’ area and in with the women. You have to cover yourself up. Wear oversized shirts, chop your hair off.” She pulled the scissors out of my hand and looked to the boys.

  “You can’t look like a woman, Felicity. No matter what. There can be nothing sexual about you, no curves, no pretty hair, no cute behavior. I can’t stress that enough.” I felt like the bad guy who drew back the curtain and ruined Christmas.

  “I’ll help,” Pete said and led her away.

  “If they’re like this, if they’re so bad, treat women like this, why are you with them? Why do you wear their patches all over you?” Nick asked angrily. I was a little shocked by the vehemence in his voice. It was the first time he had shown any kind of backbone.

  “I’m as much a prisoner as everyone else here,” I said in return.

  “Bullshit,” he stood up abruptly. “You came in with them. Before you were assigned here you were out there, doing what they do. You screwed up, that’s why they put you here. I heard Red talking about it. Don’t pretend you’re better than them. You wear their patches, you’re one of them.” He stomped away, following Pete and Felicity to the bathroom.

  I deserved that. I deserved every bit of it. I was a coward. The only way I stood up to these men was with a bit of back talk. Stupid words that didn’t mean anything. I might as well be a part of it. I stood back and let them do whatever they wanted to do, calling myself moral because in my head I opposed their actions. When really I was a selfish coward. I was only thinking about myself. I had been focused on my escape. Never thinking of the other people caught up in this mess.

  I was always focused on my own situation, never once thinking about how I could end this mess. The women here were slaves, treated worse than dogs. The civilian men were kept around so they could work for the Clan. Slaves. The children were held to keep everyone in check.

  I was no better than them. Just because I was a rebel in my head, morally opposing their actions, didn’t make me any less responsible for this mess. But what could I do?

  It was me versus forty armed men. They would kill me if I tried to do anything to save these people.

  Maybe it was what I deserved. Death would probably be the only escape I got. If I took out a few along the way, would that redeem me?

  Nick’s anger haunted me even as I slept that night.

  ELEVEN | The Asshole in Charge

  In under two hours we crossed from the neighborhood of Gentilly into Lake Vista without any more issues. We passed a good number of the dead, but nothing like the herd in New Orleans East.

  We drove the all-terrain vehicles over lawns, neutral grounds and even through over-grown fields to avoid stalled cars and random road blocks.

  The vehicles in the road were beginning to rust, and they were covered in so much dirt and debris they looked ancient. Houses were hidden by overgrown weeds and tall grass, the fast-growing trees and shrubs all but obscuring most houses. There were no more lawns and neat sidewalks. New Orleans resembled the apocalyptic landscape it was. I thought I had seen the worst after Katrina. I wasn’t from New Orleans, I grew up mostly around the Pensacola area in Florida. At the time of Katrina I was staying with a foster family that considered themselves religious and they had made the trek to New Orleans to help rebuild with their church group. They had brought me with them, citing it as a learning experience.

  The three months we stayed here after the storm changed my life forever.

  It was why I moved here after I left the Army, why I chose to return to this tragic city that had finally begun to return to normal. The city had finally begun stretching out, finding its place, when the world collapsed under the onslaught of the dead.

  After the floods from Hurricane Katrina, the houses had been a mess, like someone had come in and shook everything up and drenched them in mud. But there was life. There were people within the houses. There were sounds of power tools and the hum of military vehicles. Hammers and the tinny sound of music.

  I remember sitting on a discarded and taped up refrigerator eating red beans and rice out of a Styrofoam to-go plate delivered by the Red Cross. I remember sitting there, looking at the destruction around me, while the sound of a brass band filtered down the street. And I never felt more at ease. Because in the midst of that destruction, people came together. People stopped and chatted with each other. They cried in the street and held on to complete strangers. They looked at their devastated city and had hope. Hope for the future. It was inspiring.

  TWELVE | PTSD Special

  Morel decided he would be better served following Romeo into battle. It was a wise decision on his part, probably the first he had made in a long time.

  This left me teamed up with Heather Murphey and a few troopers that were on her team. This was fine by me. Murphey was actually an old friend of mine and the reason we had hooked up with this group in the first place. She came looking for me and the MJ group for reinforcements to help take out Lakeview. And I guess the rest is history.

  We loaded up the vehicle with more weapons and supplies and opened up the roof rack. It was equipped with a defensive kit, so the roof folded up and out so a shooter could use the roof plates for cover. There would be four fighters in the vehicle, and the rest of the team would be mounted on four-wheelers and bikes that they’d gathered in the last week.

  “We’re going in at two in the morning, that’s in six hours, people. Get some rest,” Poche called after we gathered in the front room of the mansion
they had taken over. All the vehicles were ready, everything was locked and loaded, we all had our orders - it was now a waiting game.