Zombie Fallout (Book 13): The Perfect Betrayal

by Tufo, Mark

  “That line didn’t work at Nuremberg.”

  He got the reference.

  “He’s unbalanced, sergeant. I think it might be the stress.”

  Sorrens said nothing, opting for silence.

  “He used a nuclear weapon.”

  Sorrens looked like he’d sat on a thick tack, the way he straightened.

  “Yeah, think on that. A man losing it with the ability to get and use nukes.”

  “If you could keep quiet now, sir, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Taking it you didn’t know about the nuke. What else do you think I could tell you about what is going on here?”

  “I don’t have, nor do I want, the clearance to know.”

  “How far is ignorance going to get you? Have you heard about the super smart zombies running around outside? How about the one the Old Man brought inside? You know, the ones that can form tactics and communicate? I bet you’ve heard some crazy rumors. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sergeant, most of them are true. Oh, and the kicker? The head of the civilian council that now has the colonel’s ear? She’s a lying, murdering, asshole intent on world domination. Soon you’ll be able to take that nuclear trigger out of the colonel’s hand and put it right into hers. Let that stew around in your head for a while.”

  He held his tongue, but his handling of me as he pulled me free from the Hummer was a lot less gentle than when I had gone in. He pulled and pushed me until I was inside the cell.

  “How about the cuffs?” I asked, turning and waving my fingers.

  “Fuck you,” was his response as he left the immediate area.

  “What the fuck did you do now?”

  How I’d missed the big man hidden in the shadows on the far side of the room was a mystery. “How long have you been here?” I asked.

  “Over an hour.”

  “The question is, what did you do? Because I just left the colonel’s office.”

  “I was eating breakfast; all things considered, it should have been your sister arrested.”

  “He had this whole thing planned; he knew exactly what was going to happen.”

  “Maybe start talking like I’m not one of those voices in your head.”

  “The colonel. He wouldn’t let Justin in to see Avalyn today. He knew I’d come in and confront him about it, then he’d have me tossed in jail.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him,” BT said.

  It sucks when the lightbulb pops on over your head but it’s more like the flat strike of a hard rubber mallet to the side of your skull. “You’re right. It doesn’t sound like him. Sounds a lot like Deneaux, though. The bitch was in his office when I got there.”

  “It’s always Deneaux. If she hadn’t saved our asses so many times, I would have just shot her. What’s her endgame?”

  “The same as it’s always been.”

  “Empress Deneaux,” he answered.

  “Wonder how many times a night she practices her regal wave in the mirror,” I said. “Fuck, I hate cuffs.” I tried to sit down, couldn’t get comfortable. Within twenty minutes, most of my squad had been pushed inside.

  Rose, my PT freak, was in shorts and a t-shirt and soaking wet. “Please tell me you made them chase you,” I said referring, to her condition.

  “I wish,” she responded. “I had just finished my run and was checking my pulse when they snagged me.”

  Kirby looked like he was ready to chew through nails. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said before I could ask.

  “What the hell is this all about?” Gary had on his Spider-Man pajamas; it was going to be difficult to take anything he said seriously until he got a change of clothes.

  Tommy, Winters, Stenzel, and Grimm were brought in next, in that order.

  “Sorry, Mr. T, I didn’t want to give them any trouble,” Tommy said.

  “That’s fine. We’ll figure out something here. No Harmon; that’s good.” I was happy she wasn’t here; it meant I still had some allies outside.

  “She’s not part of the squad. Why would she be?” Stenzel asked.

  I was wondering why I had never seen the request, though. “I should have had to sign off on that,” I said aloud.

  “Maybe Bennington’s plan went further back, then he wouldn’t have felt the need to tell you,” BT said.

  “When, Stenzel?”

  “When what?” she asked.

  “When exactly did Private Harmon request the transfer?”

  “A couple of weeks ago, I guess. Does that matter?”

  “Just trying to get a timeline of events here. Bennington came to the house on Monday for Avalyn. Was he putting everything in place even then?”

  “Seems like it,” BT said.

  “Shut up in there!” Sorrens yelled from the other room.

  “It’s the cuffs, Sergeant. They’re too tight…making me a little loopy. Soon I’m going to start singing!” I went with the Barney theme song, as that was the most likely to drive anyone mad. “I love you, you love me!” This at the top of my lungs in my screechiest best.

  “Shut up or I’ll shoot you!” Sorrens had come into the cell area. “Turn around. Put your hands through the slot.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” I rubbed my wrists and turned back around. “I love you, Sergeant.” I gave him a much more soulful rendition.

  “Don’t.” He shook the cuffs in my face.

  I tailed off; he shook his head and went back to the office area.

  “So how do we get out of here?” BT asked as we got into a huddle.

  13

  Mike Journal Entry 11

  “Well, this is a fine mess you got yourself into,” Master Sergeant Wassau said as he slipped me a small bottle of vodka.

  “It’s seven in the morning,” I told him.

  “Your point?” he asked as he downed his.

  “Just that it would be better with a little orange juice.”

  “The base is abuzz right now. The colonel is sending out all the raiders on bullshit assignments. You can bet that your trial and predetermined sentence will be long over before they come back.”

  “And as my newest drinking buddy, what do you think that sentence is going to be?” I asked as I drank my vodka. It went down surprisingly easy, considering the time of day. There was a point in my life where I couldn’t eat a piece of bread much before noon or I’d feel like crap for the rest of the day.

  “Study history at all?” he asked.

  “I know some, but I tended to do anything but pay attention in school, almost like I was rebelling against learning.”

  “The Roman Empire forbade their conquering armies from returning to the capital, so fearful were the Senators and Emperors of a General usurping their power through a military coup.”

  “He’s going to keep the raiders out on missions indefinitely? How long until they say screw it?”

  “My thoughts are that it will be too late. For you, for them, for all of us. They’ll stay out long enough that they begin to lose equipment and personnel and get low on supplies. They’ll either attempt to come back and be met with armed resistance, or they’ll throw in the towel and go AWOL. Unfortunately, if they do plan an attack, it won’t be anything coordinated because all communications go through this base, and Bennington isn’t going to allow them to talk to each other.”

  “You’re telling me all this, which means you’ve been thinking on it, and I would imagine, slowly working your way over to the opposing bench.”

  “You’ve got two, maybe three days before the colonel does his kangaroo court. He has to make it look official for the benefit of any who are on the fence. He’ll expect some grumbling, but that will quickly die down once the echoes from your firing squad play out.”

  “Got another drink?” My throat was suddenly parched. “You’re certainly taking my death with a cavalier attitude.”

  “It’s not me being shot, so it makes it much easier to say.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “And becau
se I’m not going to let it happen. I’m working on gaining allies.”

  “How are you going to know who to trust?”

  “There are some I served with before this; if I can’t trust them, then all is lost anyway. I’ll get you out of this, Lieutenant. You need to start thinking about what you’re going to do afterward.”

  “This’ll be rich.” BT had groggily opened one eye and was watching our conversation.

  “I think I can do it.” I turned to look his way.

  “You quoting the beloved children’s book, The Little Engine, fills me with divine assurance.” He sat up.

  “Seems to me you’re going to have two options,” Wassau said. “First is you make a run for it; two, you make a stand.”

  “Isn’t that the way of everything?” I asked.

  “Touché. I’ll drink to that. I’ll get back to you.” With that, he left.

  “Great, we’ve got another drunk on our side.” BT was now next to me.

  “Better than nothing.”

  “Give me that,” he said as he took the second small bottle from my hands and drank it. “When you run this place, I want a cushy desk job.”

  I appreciated the vote of confidence, but to be honest, I was just hoping we all made it out of there alive.

  14

  TALBOTSODE 1

  The sky was a hammered steel color; some grays as dark as to be considered black. A thick fog could be seen pouring in along the valley floor. It wouldn’t be long until it completely covered the area where the four young men had decided to camp. It was approaching the end of the season, and Rocky Mountain National Park was nearly empty.

  “A hotel would have been better,” Dennis said, standing next to his best friend, Mike. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders. They both watched the cloak of chill and dampness move closer.

  “Can’t build a fire inside a hotel room,” Mike replied with a smile.

  “Don’t need one either,” Dennis grumbled.

  “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer,” Mike said as he smacked the other’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, a nice cold drink ought to help.”

  Paul and Charlie were placing logs bought at a convenience store upon the burgeoning fire.

  “You two want to be alone?” Paul joked.

  “Figured you and Charlie did; that’s why we went over to see the view,” Mike said as he reached into the cooler. “Fog is coming in.” He stood and there was a whoosh sound as he popped the lid free.

  “I’m glad we did this,” Paul said. “Can’t remember the last time we were all together.”

  “That’s mostly on you,” Dennis said.

  Paul smiled sheepishly.

  “Yeah man, getting a commitment out of you is like trying to get Mike to eat ham,” Dennis said.

  “Hey, this is about him, not me,” Mike replied.

  The four sat around the fire, eating pre-made sandwiches, drinking beer, smoking some weed, and reminiscing about their high school days and the exploits done. The gathering had been Mike’s idea. He’d not seen Dennis and Paul together since before he’d joined the Marine Corps, and Charlie, well, he and Charlie had been through the Suck together, and that was something you could never put to the side. It was an unconscious effort, one he didn’t even realize. But Mike was doing his best to reconcile some of the most difficult times of his life by overlaying them with some of his best. When the fog finally enveloped them in its chilly embrace, he’d come around to Dennis’s desire for a hotel room and the warmth afforded.

  “That’ll put some hair on your chest,” Paul replied as the chilly moisture caressed his neck.

  “First, you have to get some on your balls,” Charlie said, this elicited laughs from the men, even from the one it was directed at. He was the outsider in this group as they spoke of misdeeds done, but they’d accepted him wholeheartedly, even going so far as to explain to him the inside jokes among them.

  The beer and the cheer went deep into the night, even with the fog doing its best to dampen their spirits.

  “I gotta piss.” Charlie got up unsteadily. “Damn, how long has it been?”

  Mike was mildly concerned when his friend walked five feet from the fire and was immediately swallowed up by the darkness and the heavy haze. He was distracted as Paul began to talk about one of the football games they had rallied back from a twenty-eight point deficit to win.

  “Yeah, I won that one,” Mike boasted.

  “I was the one that threw you the ball. I won it,” Paul boasted.

  “Bullshit to you both. Without my blocking, Paul gets sacked and that ball never gets thrown. Plus, if you remember, I got downfield to help you get in,” Dennis said.

  “Yeah, I don’t remember any of that. Only the part where I hooked up with Sarah after the game. I sure as hell wasn’t sharing any of the glory with you then, and not now, either,” Mike said.

  “What a dick,” Paul said, tossing an empty Mike’s way.

  “Damn, that’s what Sarah said!” Mike exclaimed. Dennis fist-bumped him.

  Charlie smiled as he heard his friends joking. He’d not thought much about how their voices sounded distorted; he attributed it to his condition and the conditions. “This will work,” he said as his outstretched hand happened upon the trunk of a pine tree. He fumbled for his zipper and pulled himself free. He was in the midst of a steady, steaming stream when his throat and his bladder dried up simultaneously.

  “Charlie…” An eerie voice drifted toward his ears. He knew it wasn’t Mike or any of his friends. Mike knew enough to not cause any more nightmares in the dark than they’d already been exposed to, and the other two didn’t know him well enough. He didn’t figure they were above pranks, but he could still hear them guffawing over some burn one had given the other.

  Charlie said nothing as he quietly zippered back up and listened intently for the sound of approaching footsteps and any danger that might lurk within the shadows. He’d once found himself alone and in the dark behind enemy lines in a country whose name he wished he could forget. It had been his friend Mike that had doubled back to look for him. That had been seven of the tensest hours of his life as he evaded an enemy squad who had been hunting him. In his frequent nightmares, it wasn’t Mike who found him. He shivered as he thought upon the thousand different tortures his psyche created for him.

  “Charlie,” the voice said again. Charlie turned slightly as the voice seemed to be coming from behind him now, and close.

  He instinctively reached for a knife he no longer carried. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Who the fuck are you?” Whoever it was already knew he was out there; it made no sense to hide.

  “You don’t know me.”

  “No shit,” Charlie answered.

  “I came in with the fog.”

  Charlie could not help but think how creepy that sentence was.

  “Mike!” Charlie called out.

  “He can’t hear you.”

  Charlie wanted to doubt that statement but could not. He could still hear the three talking animatedly, but none had responded to his cry.

  “Mike needs help,” the disembodied voice said.

  “He sounds fine,” Charlie answered, waiting for whatever this trap was, to spring.

  “Not now; in about twenty years.”

  Charlie could hear the rustle of a cellophane bag and then heavy crunching.

  “Are you eating chips? What the fuck is going on? This is a shitty joke.”

  “There’s going to be a cataclysmic event…” The voice paused. “How much can I tell you?”

  “Are you asking me?”

  “So many timelines; it’s impossible to know which lead where, not with any certainty. I tell you too much, there’s no telling what you do. Probably go hide in a cave in Sri Lanka.”

  “You’ve told me nothing except my friend is in some sort of dilemma in twenty years. So far, there’s not much for me to go on, and no reason to go to Sri Lanka.” Charlie wouldn’t have believed anything he was heari
ng at the moment, if it wasn’t for what had happened in the mountains of Afghanistan. Since then, he kept his eyes open to a much broader spectrum of possibilities than the normal human; it was amazing what you could see on the edges of reality if you but looked.

  Another crunching of food, a thick burp, and then the overwhelming stench of feet. This followed by a sigh. “What can I tell you?” Charlie could hear a crinkled rapping, as if the spectral visitor was lightly smacking his head with the snack bag. “ZOMBIES!” he shouted. “There. I said it. Whew. I smell marijuana cigarettes; got any on you?”

  “Sounds like you’ve had enough.”

  “Can never have enough, man. NEVER!” he shouted with enough force that Charlie backed up into the tree he’d been using to relieve himself. “Where was I?”

  “Zombies or weed—your choice,” Charlie said.

  “Are they smoking it now? That’s bad news; zombies won’t leave anything for the rest of us.”

  “I’m going back.” Charlie wanted to be as far away from whatever was going on as possible, though he did smile at the notion of zombie’s puffing away on some blunts. He wondered what they would consider munchies, and shuddered at the thought.

  “If this is the right thread of existence,” Trip interrupted his thoughts, “in twenty years, the zombies will come. In a year’s time after, you’ll need to make your way to Washington State.”

  “Just make my way to Washington State? And do what? You realize it’s a pretty big place.”

  “I’ve already said too much. I have to go before the Whistlers find this opening.”

  “What?” Charlie responded. There was a loud explosion of air, as if a giant packing bubble had been burst, and then silence. Charlie returned to the fireside. He chalked up the entire event to stress, though the most difficult part to explain away was the stench-laden belch. He’d nearly forgotten about the entire incident, until, some years later, he stumbled upon an article in an old Newsweek while sitting in the Dentist’s office. The article talked about the Great Flu Epidemic of 1912, and the suspected causes behind it. Something within him had clicked, like a hidden switch left behind, a latent purpose, waiting for just this moment. He’d called his old Marine Corps buddy that night to see how he was doing and if he’d had any plans to move to Washington. Mike had laughed at the notion.