by Mark Tufo
“You are the oldest looking Crips I’ve ever seen.” Maybe not the wisest thing I’d ever said, considering the circumstances.
“I told you Marines are basically talking chimps.” The one who spoke reached a burly hand down and helped me up. “I’m Lieutenant General Dan of the United States Army Corps of Engineers, retired.”
“Lieutenant Dan?” I honestly couldn’t help myself. “The prosthetics look lifelike,” I said, looking at his legs.
“The major said you were a little slow. You realize there’s a firefight happening outside, right, son?” He looked a bit like a buff Wilford Brimley would: silver hair, thick silver beard—the piercing blue eyes had a much harder edge, and, truth be told, he looked like he ate nails for breakfast. “Come on, we’ll save the proper introductions for later. Let me get you to the rest of your squad. Hobbes, get Calvin and Garfield. And keep an eye on this door. If it looks like it’s going to be breached, you have my authorization for the plastique.”
Yeah, I heard the part about the explosives, but I was stuck on the comics characters' names. “Please tell me there’s an Archie—wait—screw that. Tell me there’s a Veronica.”
I was not expecting the smack to the side of my head. “Veronica is my wife,” the lieutenant general said gruffly.
“Sorry.” I rubbed my head as we double-timed up the stairs. “Is there a Ziggy?” I had to ask.
“You mean my attaché?”
“You have got to be kidding me!”
He shook his head and snorted. “You’re special, aren’t you, son. What the hell do you think? This ain't some hippy commune. Now shut up and do what Uncle Sam trained you to do.”
It wasn’t like I was an hour and a half behind the rest; what could the major have said about me? We climbed five flights and then exited onto the floor. “What did he say?” I had to know.
“He said you were thicker than shit but could shoot well. Something along those lines.”
I should have been insulted by that, but it was true, so I puffed my bottom lip out and shrugged. A few of the doors were open and I could hear the occasional shots being fired. It sounded more like incoming directed toward us rather than anything being fired back. Dan led me to where BT was. “There are two ammo cans. If you need more, I’ll be next door.”
I wanted to ask him why they were helping, but I didn’t think asking why a complete stranger was risking his life for ours right in the middle of it made any sense. Wouldn’t want to give him any reason to rethink things.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked as I made my way quickly over to where BT was.
He was busily loading a couple of magazines. “We come up on the doors and three men with rifles waved us in. Wasn’t much of a choice. Eastman gives him the quick and dirty about what’s going on and with zero hesitation, the lieutenant general is having Jackson looked at and now we have enough ammunition and guns to end this.”
“Who does that?”
“You think we’re the only good guys left in the war? With all the shit we’ve been through, Talbot, isn’t it about time the pendulum swung in our favor?”
“Unexpected is all. Thanks,” I said as I grabbed the full magazine from his hands. I locked and loaded and poked my head up to see what was happening.
“You’re welcome, dick. And the general wants us to wait until more of Knox’s men are out in the open before we fire.”
I’d lined up a shot but kept my finger off the trigger. “Why trust us, though?”
“You’re still hung up on the help?”
“I get concerned. They don’t know us; we could be the bad guys and Knox is chasing us down to make us pay for our crimes, or, hell, maybe we’re just bait, now that we’re in.”
“That’s not what’s going on.”
“You and I know that, but how does this Dan guy know? Did Eastman and him do some secret handshake or some shit?”
“I don’t know and I’m not questioning it. The uniforms, maybe,” he added. Now I had him thinking.
“Knox’s men have on uniforms.”
“Mike.”
“Trust me, BT, I don’t want to be paranoid, it’s just there.”
“All things considered, I’m pretty happy with our current predicament. Don’t take that away from me.”
“What if they work with Knox? These bullets could be dummies, or rigged to pop. They’ve separated us, and the orders to hold off shooting could be just a way for them to get here without raising suspicion.”
“Jesus! Do you ever shut that distressed brain of yours off? When you came in, did you have a bunch of guns pointing at you?”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly.
“Could they have easily shot or cuffed you?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“Did they?”
“No…but…”
“Shut up, Talbot. There are still good people in the world that can recognize other good people and are willing to help. It’s as simple as that.”
That sounded like a fantasy novel to me, but I’d roll with it until the page was turned and we found ourselves in an espionage story. I watched as three of Knox’s men made a slow approach; every so often, another three would scale the wall. By the time the initial trio were within spitting distance, there were twenty or so soldiers below us.
“One opportunity to surrender, gentlemen!” was shouted by the general.
“Pretty sexist of him to assume they’re all men,” I said.
BT didn’t say anything. It was highly unlikely any below us would give up, and whether they were a man or a woman, they were about to die. Again, my cavalier attitude had rendered him silent.
Those on the field of battle were hesitant; they were out in the wide-open with little cover, staring at what was basically a fortress. Someone still with the benefit of having a foot thick wall of concrete between them and us forced the issue and shot our way. When we began to shoot, some dropped their rifles and raised their hands, others ran back the way they came, and those that continued to fight I put down like rabid rats. The normal phrase would have ended with dog, but I would have been sobbing if that was what I was doing, think Where the Red Fern Grows or Old Yeller. Wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before a ceasefire was called. Eight were dead and five stood with their hands above their heads. I was curious as to what would happen next. Taking prisoners was a pain—a drain on resources, food and the man-power needed to watch them. I hated to say it, but getting rid of them was the easiest way to deal with the problem.
“Leave your weapons and go!” the general said. There were some cautionary looks around before they did just that, well, four of them anyway. One of them couldn’t stand the thought of parting with his rifle. Three shots peppered the ground near him before he weighed the value of his life to that of the gun. Sure, it was a Ghalil, a weapon called the “Israeli Hammer,” still not worth your life. Now if he’d had a Benelli semi-automatic shotgun, then maybe that would have been worth running faster.
“The general asked me to come and get you…thought you two might be hungry.” An older woman with dark brunette hair was in the doorway. It was tough to tell through the fatigues, but she appeared to have curves in all the right places. “And some new clothes for you.” She looked me up and down. “And perhaps a shower.” Her nose crinkled. I’d long ago lost the scent of myself, but the way people avoided me I’m sure I was pretty ripe.
“Veronica?” I asked.
“Betty.” She smiled.
I could only shake my head. We followed her up another flight of stairs; three of the apartments had walls torn down to create one large mess hall. There had to be fifty or more people in there, some eating, some in line waiting to get something. “Betty, are there still people watching the field?”
“Relax, Captain. We’ve been doing this a long time. We rotate meal times; this is only about a quarter of our forces. Now hurry up and get something to eat! Reggie makes the best spaghetti and meatballs. The sauce is straight
out of our garden.”
“Reggie? Are all these code names?”
Her eyebrows furrowed in a questioning look. "My name might be Carla, and Reggie sure does look like a Jim. The face on you! You really are an easy mark.”
“Are you screwing with me?” I asked.
“This one is quick,” she said to BT.
“Don’t listen to him. Thank you, ma’am.” BT steered me to the line. We got a few looks from those around us but nothing combative, more curious, if anything. It looked like helping strangers might be a fairly common practice for them, but how many brought along a hostile army trailing them? Eastman had just got his portion and was heading to a seat. I waved.
“Major Jackson?” BT asked.
“Sleeping.”
Five minutes later we were all at the same table. I alternated between eating and scoping out the room, waiting for someone to make a move to incarcerate us. It didn’t happen. The first group ate, left, and another group filed in.
“What the fuck is this place?”
“Don’t worry about him,” BT told Eastman. “He can’t handle it when shit isn’t going sideways.”
“None of this is weird to you two?”
“You mean this stroke of good fortune?” Eastman asked.
“Yeah, that,” I replied. “Anything too good to be true and all, and here we sit with a free lunch.”
“I offered them space on the carrier. Relax, Captain. I can see it on your face. I don’t personally know the general, but I knew of him. True patriot—has more medals than most could comfortably carry, and from everything I ever heard about him, he is a man of his word.”
“Here it comes.” I gripped the rifle in my lap. The general and four armed people were heading our way.
“I got in touch with the carrier, Major. They were happy to hear you and those with you are all right.” The general sat down. “They let it slip that they were keeping tabs on you, but wouldn’t clarify how. They were getting ready to launch a rescue team. I told them it wouldn’t be necessary. I will be sending a force along with you to get you back to them.”
“And my offer?”
“I hate the water, Major. We have a garden; I cultivate all sorts of fruits and vegetables and some recently legalized substances.”
I looked at him with shock and smiled.
“Oh, now you’re on the same team,” BT whispered. “Bet you fell in love the first time you saw a titty.”
“Didn’t you?”
He pahed. “That’s beside the point.”
“We’ll stay in touch, and if you’re in the neighborhood and something changes, I would like to have that option available.”
“Always, General.” The major shook his hand.
“We’ll head out first thing in the morning. Today, eat and get some sleep. You all look like you could use it. Gentlemen.” He gave a small nod before leaving.
“Still looking for the angle, aren’t you?” BT asked as I watched them leave.
“I’m more convinced they’re good guys than not, but until we’re on that ship, I am not letting my guard down,” I told him.
“You do that.” BT was wolfing down meatballs.
I was pushing mine around. “This look like beef to you?” I was holding it up and inspecting.
“Not that shit again,” BT grumbled.
36
Mike Journal Entry 20
After a shower and a change of clothes, I laid down in the room assigned to me. I swore I wasn’t going to sleep; that lasted about seven minutes. It was pitch dark when I awoke. Something was up, I could hear movement in my room. I grabbed my rifle, which was next to me, closer than any lover I’d ever been with. What’s that say about me?
“Relax, Captain. I wanted to get you awake before it started.”
“Started?” I asked the general.
“Knox seems to think the cover of darkness is going to allow him easy access.”
“You have NVGs?”
“Some, but we don’t need them. Come on.” He turned and left. I followed quickly, not even taking the time to put on my boots because after I’d cleaned up, I’d never taken them off. Went back to the same room I’d been in before; BT was there with three others. They were all taking positions at the windows.
“See anything?” I asked, peeking through and into the absolute darkness outside. I had to shield my eyes when the sun turned on. The area looked like noon on the Equator. Fifty, maybe sixty soldiers were out on the field, and they were just as confused as I was, only scared, I’m sure, because of the sudden, unusual circumstances. The general offered them the same deal: surrender or die. The answer came in the form of gunfire. They never stood a chance. There wasn’t a window in the building that didn’t have multiple rifles pointing out, and they were all firing. It wasn’t much of a battle, more like the end of Butch Cassidy. Two of Dan’s people suffered injuries, but neither were life-threatening. More than forty of Knox’s people had been reduced to fertilizer; the rest had high-tailed it back to their staging area.
“He’s had to have had enough, right?” BT asked as we looked upon the blood-soaked ground.
“So many damn people.” I won’t lie and say I’m the most altruistic person running around. I can be self-centered and, I do, on occasion, put myself first. But right then, I was wondering if, by giving myself up, I could have avoided any more bloodshed. Would Knox’s insanity be sated by my capture? I thought about Etna. The only reason I’d agreed to avoid its obliteration was that we’d routed Deneaux away from her lair.
“At what point are they going to turn on him?” BT asked.
“How many times in war have waves and waves of soldiers been sent directly into the teeth of the enemy with little-to-no chance of surviving yet continued to blindly follow command?” I said absently. “He won’t stop until there’s no one left to send.”
“Knox, you are free to tend to any of the wounded that may still be on the field of battle. We will not fire upon them,” the general offered over the loudspeaker. I’d thought that, on first look, all were dead, but a few were crawling or groaning, some crying. It was a heart-wrenching sight. Shooting and killing zombies was so vastly different. Sure, I could feel sorrow for the loss of the person they once were, but it was in the abstract. Those people down there suffering, they were still human, something that was becoming more and more precious with every passing day. They were brothers and sisters, daughters and sons. Back when humanity was still enjoying the technology age, every second, four babies were born and two people died, making a growth rate of about eighty-two million a year. Now? I’d be amazed if, worldwide, five babies were born in a day. And as for deaths…my squad alone probably killed enough to far outweigh births in any given period. For better or worse, fucking wasn’t going to stop. It was about the only decent thing we had left. Children were still coming into this hellhole world, but it would never be enough. A woman being able to run around surviving for nine months, hindered by a pregnancy…no way. It was far too dangerous. And if there were any complications, like malnutrition, for example, or lack of clean water, it was highly unlikely she would be able to get the care she needed. Then, if she was somehow able to bring a child to term, the kid is vulnerable for years. Nope. It was a foregone conclusion: humanity didn’t have much time left, and the inhumane like Knox were only hastening that ultimate finale.
The lights stayed on another hour. No one came to the aid of the suffering. The general had tried to send a team out, but they were fired upon before they could get ten feet from the door. I stared down at those poor souls until the lights went dark and then for another hour until I could no longer hear the sobs of the damned.
“Come on, man.” BT put a hand on my shoulder and we left the room. I thought about going back to sleep; I also thought about walking straight out the back door and going who knows where. At last, I ended up in the mess hall with a cup of black sludge that was supposed to be coffee but more closely resembled tar. Every so often, I would
forget what I was drinking and take a sip of the bitter pudding then remind myself not to do that again. Nothing happened the remainder of the night. I found myself outside in the back, watching the sun come up.
“Knox left sometime during the night,” BT said.
“I hate unfinished business. It always has a way of coming back around.” I was referring to Deneaux. If not for her, we wouldn’t even be out here. Not sure why the universe felt the need to replace one villain with another, but if taken at face value, Knox was the cheap Chinese knock off; no way he had the staying power of that American built legend. “I hope the hell fires warm your heart.”
“What?” BT asked, he was sniffing his cup.
“Little prayer for an old friend.”
“Fifteen until we leave. I’m going to see if I can get something better than this.” BT went back in.
I don’t know what I was expecting when I was escorted to the motor pool, but I know I was hoping for a couple of light armored troop transports. Instead, there were five Priuses, each towing an odd shaped trailer, I ended up in the back seat with BT. Jackson and Eastman were in another. With the slope of the rear windshield, I was going to be spending the majority of the ride looking at my knees. BT looked like he'd tried to contort his body into one of those Fisher Price red and yellow plastic trucks.
“What’s the range on this thing?” I asked. I was sick of looking at the patterns on my uniform.
“The car by itself is around thirty miles,” the driver, a Corporal McCander said. Won’t lie, I was both happy and sad to leave the land of comic book and movie names. I couldn’t tell if they had been fucking with me or I had bumped my head and the entire thing was playing out in my coma-addled mind. “With the battery pack trailers, we’re rated for about a hundred miles.”
