Alan Dale - Death Nation's Army 01 (2 page)

Roxanne screamed again, the man, her man stood back a bit further, shaking his head. The woman was officially lost.

Below the two sat an elderly man, quiet, thoughtful, despite his obvious worn and hungry visage. He bowed his head as the younger man, her man, finally accepted defeat and moved toward the elder already sitting, seemingly accepting Roxanne was mentally gone.

Roxanne screamed again.

“
Darryl,” the older man began, as the young man, maybe 30-years-old at most, sat down on the black top ceiling. A woman from within the gated community could be heard yelling an expletive at Roxanne. The two men heard it. Roxanne didn’t.

Roxanne screamed again.

“
Darryl, it’s not going to help,” the other man said. “This is where we are heading. We started with what? 40 survivors? 50? Now we have maybe half that?”

Darryl reached into his breast pocket on his well-worn, soiled, shirt and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from it. He took one of the last few out, offered one, was rejected, and put the box away. Lighting up, he exhaled the smoke and eyed the other man.

“
Abe…they aren’t coming,” Darryl said.

“
They are. They are. You have to keep confident they are.”

Another drag. A longer exhale.

“
It’s been over a week. Three days late. We are starving and sick.”

Abe heard something from the horde of mangled, decomposing bodies below, took a brief look and just stared, mouth open.

His eyes locked on one particular…thing…Michael Jordan t-shirt, torn blue jeans, half his face rotten off, a piece of rotted flesh stuck between his middle, upper teeth, and that look. The look that sees nothing but only a meal.

Filet Mig Abe.

“
We are starving. We are sick, Darryl. Yes,” Abe said with the back of his head to the other man, not losing focus on Meaty Teeth. “But they are fighting. They are the ones going to dozens of communities. They have to go through those things every day I bet,” Abe finally turned back around to face the younger man. “We are what we are, but so are they. If it weren’t for the DNA so far, we wouldn’t even still be a we.”

Darryl needed one, two, three, drags, and said nothing, only looking solemnly at Abe. Considering. Realizing.
Yes, it sucked in here.

Another drag.

But, I bet it sucks worse out there.

“
She’s going to lose it,” Darryl said looking up at Roxanne. She stopped screaming but stood there appearing as if watching a good television show. Head tilted upright, mouth agape, eyes wide, swaying a bit. Recharging her batteries for another fit of long-gone lunacy?

“
Going to?” Abe asked with no attempt to veil his sarcasm. “You sure you haven’t missed a few of the signs.”

Darryl took another drag and chuckled. Laughter was hard. In this world it was harder than ever. “Not her mind.” Darryl leaned backwards, straightening his spine, showing off his Obama Is Atheist shirt in full splendor. He rubbed his belly. “Our baby. Three months to go. This stress will kill our baby.”

Abe nodded. He knew Darryl may have meant the infant’s life was close to forfeit already or even if it were to survive to birth. Its life as a happy, growing, child, had already ran out its warranty.

Well honestly, whose warranty wasn’t already expired by now?

Whose?

Abe watched as Darryl continued to smoke and bowed his head. He met these two only a few months earlier. Alone. Now widowed. Presumably childless. Abe found a way to twist and dodge across the smaller towns of Illinois farmland until he finally edged into the further exterior suburbs of Chicago, still miles out. He had no idea where he was. Most of them still alive, didn’t. Many simply ended up here. Only Connie and Bill were residents.

Were.

Past tense.

He ended up pulling the trigger on her and then himself. The suicide note?

We are not a part of the buffet line.

Abe’s fabulous and well preserved Duster had finally run out of gas with nary a refill in sight. Or at least one which had not been drained off all fuel. It was time to get out on foot. After over 15 miles of walking, crawling, breathing hard, and shitting in bushes, Abe found The Heavenly Gates, and got a reprieve from facing Hell. At least for a little while longer.

Roxanne
befriended the “new guy” and treated him like the father she desperately needed. Darryl was well-intentioned, but clutch under pressure was not in his resume.

Darryl and Abe locked eyes again. Cigarette pack in hand once more, Darryl offered, and Abe, considering smirk growing larger, began to reach out for one.

Roxanne hadn’t screamed in a while.

A whisper.

“
What’s that?”

Both men looked up, Abe’s hand freezing in mid grab. They gazed at Roxanne still in that same pose, mouth open, but eyes wider.

A blink.

“
What’s that?” Her left hand rose. Higher. Higher. Pointing, eventually, at the sky.

The two men followed her direction. It took Abe a while, his eyesight failing, and probably most available optometrists were probably looking for eyes to eat rather than fix.

A dot. A moving dot.

“
It’s a bird.” Darryl beside him, whispering too.

Abe looked quickly over toward the other man ready to ask what the big deal would be about a pigeon, when he finally caught himself in mid-ignorance. A helicopter?

“
But when did the DNA start going through the air?” Abe asked stiffly, cautiously.

Okay, hopefully. Darryl stood up and moved toward Roxanne. Mother of his child. He reached for one of her hands but she still pulled away, gaze not moving, mouth still wide. Eyes wider. Hand still raised. A sound. A sound. Wings beating.

The bird.

The helicopter.

“
They’re coming,” she whispered again.

“
They are.” Abe watched as the couple stood close by one another, hope slowly creeping into their expression. Something wasn’t right. His head spoke volumes while everything else around him swam in single syllables. A moan. A beat. A breath. The old man could hear the voices from below -- on the good side of the gates.

Some of the others were becoming aware of the bird. The large black bird growing closer, more pronounced.

Here.

The DNA?

The DNA in a bird?

Since when did they use helicopters?

“
Hey you two…,” Abe approached, slow, cautious. He didn’t want to be the skeptical one. No. He wanted to believe as much as anyone, younger or even older.

Abe heard the growls, desperate screeches, and gurgles from the bad side of the gates. They were aware of the bird too. Abe really didn’t want to be the skeptical one. But, honestly, he knew what else awaited them out there. And he wasn’t talking about the scrats.

The bird was close.

Real close.

Black.

Very black.

No obvious markings.

Paint job seemed new.

Figures inside.

Three? Four? Armed? Supplies? He couldn’t tell.

Darryl stepped back and turned around quickly and stopped short when he realized Abe was right beside him, the two almost knocking into one another.

“
Abe! You were right,” his cigarette-stained teeth a glow, a smile beginning to creep onto his face. His breath smelled horribly but whose didn’t these days? “You believed and they came.”

He was so happy. So hopeful. Abe shook his head, Darryl tilted his in confusion.

“
You
don’t understand, Abe. They’re back. The DNA is here.”

Abe raised a hand to Darryl’s right shoulder and laid it there. Over to the left stood Roxanne. Her hand still raised, finger still pointed, eyes wider, mouth more agape.

“
I don’t know, Darryl. A bird? A helicopter?” Abe stared into the man, widening his own eyes. Making his point.

“
The DNA never used birds.”

Widening those eyes.

The talk below became louder.

Growls growing in intensity.

“
Never. No talk about it on the Underwave.” He looked around. “Where are the ground supply vehicles?!”

He realized Darryl’s hope
clouded his reason. He shook the boy.

“
Never have they said anything about helicopters! Never!”

Wait…

Roxanne’s eyes!

Abe took a quick turn to look at the pregnant woman again. Her eyes were still transfixed, wide, but not wide as in hope, shock, or even glee.

The girl is terrified!

Closer.

The bird was closer. He could feel the air thumping down on them. The roofs were quite thick and extremely wide, a small bird like this one could land on it.

Abe could hear the sound of it slowly creeping lower.

Roxanne’s eyes! Following her gaze over Darryl’s shoulder,

Abe looked up and saw a man -- no a soldier -- leaning out the nearside opened door of the bird, one foot on the landing skid.

A soldier?

The man, the solider, wearing all black military, combat gear, leaned forward.

The bird was no more than 30 or 40 yards from the roof.

Is that a gun? Or more like a rifle?

He looked back at Darryl and as he did, the young man immediately shook, even for a moment, ever so violently.

Abe could hear a faint pop, and soon his shirt felt wet....

Over Darryl’s shoulder he could see Roxanne looking over at them.

Roxanne screamed again.

Abe only had a moment, a second, a thought, to look down and see all that ketchup on his shirt.

Ketchup?

Darryl fell into Abe, eyes wide, shocked, and slowly slid down the old man until Abe had to step and give way, allowing the youngster to drop to the surface.

Roxanne screamed again.

Oh my God.

The bird! It’s not the DNA!

The chatter below in the driveways was more harried, hectic, but still obviously confused.

He needed
to tell them.

Abe moved toward the edge of the roof while Roxanne, finally moving, bumped into him, and over to Darryl as the blood began to spread thick across her man’s chest.

The bird was close.

Another pop, not so faint. Abe hit the roof’s surface hard, his leg exploding in pain. He looked up and saw the armed soldier pulling the rifle back and gaze into the face of another man sitting next to him.

Smiling. Smiling.

Abe’s whole body convulsed in pain. He first fell face down and soon realized he scabbed up his hands pretty good. Turning himself over carefully, he looked down at his left leg. Blood was everywhere, bone from his tibia jutted out through the skin like a series of splinters off of dead wood.

The New World Order.

The fucking NWO found us.

He heard the growls from below get louder, more agitated. Abe presumed the smell of fresh blood didn’t help calm them down.

The scrats!

The NWO here!

OH MY GOD!

Roxanne screamed again and Abe looked over to see her cradling a still alive, but slowly fading, Darryl. He locked eyes with the dying man. Darryl smiled, looked up at the sky.

“
Oops…”

A large thud got Abe’s attention and he turned his head right to see what really was a small, four-person helicopter land gingerly on the sturdy roof. Two soldiers climbed out of the back, fully armed, automatic rifles at the ready. Both aimed at the two prone, bleeding men.