Authors: Shawn Chesser
Jedi One-One remained behind, lazily circling the ambush site, while Cade and Desantos acted out their version of good cop/bad cop.
“I have a feeling you two are just hired help... isn’t that right?” Cade asked, playing the good cop. He noted the men’s body language. The bigger man held his chin high and stared daggers at the spook and the operators. The smaller of the two squirmed a little, avoiding direct eye contact. He wore his blonde hair high and tight, military style. The multiple piercings in both ears contradicted the haircut. Full sleeve tattoos covered both arms: skulls, daggers, and flames were inked on every square inch. Apparently “
I think I’m a badass
” was the central theme but Badass wasn’t fooling anybody.
The other man was just this side of giant; he had a ruddy complexion and a hawk-like nose that had already met its share of knuckles. The man’s black ponytail was pulled back so tightly he was left with slits for eyes. The dead giveaway that he was going to be the more defiant of the two were the series of black tears tattooed underneath his right eye. They weren’t just for show; they were for telling. Ponytail had either spent time in prison--killed a man--or a combination of both.
“So you’re the snitch-bitch of the marriage. That’s my guess,” Desantos said through clenched teeth, his face inches from Ponytail’s.
The man visibly bristled but remained seated.
Without warning Desantos punched Ponytail in the face, making sure to twist his hips to put all of his body weight behind the strike. Blood sluiced from yet another broken nose. “Talk now or your teeth are next. Keep in mind... talking without them is going to be a pain in the ass... and you
will
talk... or else.” Desantos could tell by the man’s eyes that he was curious about what was going to happen if he remained silent.
“What’s the
or else
,” the man croaked,
spraying
bloody spittle on the floor of the helo.
Cade silently eyed Badass, whose lower lip had begun to quiver.
Desantos’ patience was shot. “Ari, find me some Z’s!” he shouted over the faint engine noise, mainly for Ponytail’s benefit.
Ari pointed the helicopter west following the refueling waypoint prominently displayed on his HUD display.
God I love this bird’s glass cockpit
, he thought to himself. “Keep an eye out for walkers,” Ari requested over the onboard comms.
Ponytail’s face grew whiter by the second because he knew that he was about to find out exactly what the asshole soldier meant by
or else
.
The spook spotted them first. “Port side nine o’clock,” Tice said into his mic. “Seven bodies moving south.”
“Copy that,” Ari said.
“Last chance,” Desantos intoned, glaring into Ponytail’s eyes.
Ari closed with the herd and held the bird in a steady hover fifteen feet over the hungry Z’s. The creatures were “first turns” and looked pretty beat up.
The man might stand a chance
, Ari thought as he watched the zombies reaching and staggering, fighting to stay upright in the ship’s rotor wash.
Ponytail’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. It looked like he wanted to speak but the words wouldn’t come.
Cade helped Desantos get him to his feet. Clearly he didn’t want to leave the helicopter; the doomed man fell back to his knees, nothing but dead weight.
Cade drew his Gerber and cut the zip ties from Ponytail’s wrists while Desantos propelled him into thin air. Ponytail rolled the windows up, flailing his arms all the way to the ground. He hit hard, feet first, and rolled. By the time he found his balance the Z’s were on top of him.
Tice mouthed the words, “Harsh way to go,” under his breath and tore his eyes away from the carnage. Maddox could care less one way or the other; he was spent from the constant running and gunning and promptly closed his eyes, thankful for the few hours of shuteye he was going to get during the ride home.
Lopez, not sure where he stood, just looked away, content that God would sort it out.
Hicks, the crew chief, was lost in his own thoughts reliving his part in the mercy killings at the Long Acre Retirement Villa. One thing he was certain of, the man dying down below was involved with bad people and didn’t deserve an ounce of his mercy.
Cade made sure Badass got a good look at his buddy’s death throes. “Ready to talk?” he asked.
While the zombies tore at Ponytail’s guts, Badass spilled his. The poser was a trove of information and he sang like a canary all the way to Colorado Springs.
Outbreak - Day 8
I-25 Between Castle Rock and Colorado Springs
“Holy shit!” Wilson exclaimed.
Sasha jumped in her seat, startled by sound of her brother’s voice. “What is it Wilson?” she griped.
Wilson pointed in the direction they were headed and said, “Look at those black specks... right there on the horizon... they look like freakin’ UFOs.”
In a matter of seconds the moving specks grew larger and morphed into a number of matte black bat wing and dart-shaped jet aircraft. The ominous looking machines were nearly silent until they passed directly overhead. Then a low timbered howl washed over the valley as the fast movers disappeared over the northern horizon.
“What the heck were those?” Ted asked from the back seat.
“Batman’s boomerang,” William said in a foggy out-of-it sounding voice. “And he’s bringing me my pills...”
“Why don’t you give him another? There’s still a stretch of driving and we might hit a whole mess of walkers when we get to Colorado Springs. Besides, he’d be better off sleeping the rest of the way,” Pug proffered.
After rifling through the bag full of pills Ted found one of the night-night Vicodin pills. Without a fight William swallowed the
medicine
, and then asked for a nice Riesling to wash it down.
Ted propped William up in his seat and cinched the seatbelt a little tighter. “That ought to keep him happy for a while.
Everyone satisfied?
” Ted spat, feeling more than a little pissed off. More so at himself for not wanting to deal with a loopy William, than at the pushy driver who was a total stranger to everyone in the truck.
Pug finally answered Ted’s earlier question about the over flight. “Those black airplanes... I remember seeing a documentary about them on cable. The bat wing jobs are B-2 Liberty stealth bombers and the others are B-1 something or others... I forget what they called ‘em. At any rate, I’ve got a bad feeling that Denver is going to be glowing in a few minutes.”
“No way,” Wilson blurted.
“Where else are they going flying so low and fast?” Pug countered.
“I hate to admit it... but I think Pug’s right,” Ted opined from the backseat.
Wilson’s conscience was nagging him, and he suddenly felt that he owed Pug full disclosure. “Do you want to tell him or should I?” Wilson asked Ted, referring to the disaster they’d left behind in Denver.
“
You go right ahead
,” Ted intoned. He’d clearly picked up on Wilson’s meaning and wanted nothing to do with the conversation.
Wilson sighed. He didn’t want to be even remotely linked to the surge of dead following them from Denver, but his mom raised him to be truthful. The monsters weren’t going to stop at some roadside attraction and get sidetracked. They were going to be a problem for the entire South valley, a real big and very hungry problem. Wilson sat in silence and looked out the window for a couple of minutes before he said, “The walkers started doing some weird stuff... moving in a pack like wolves following the alpha male. When we escaped Denver there were eight of us.”
“What happened to the others?” Pug asked, trying his best to sound concerned.
“Those
fucking
things overtook them... it was awful. Cheryl was torn in two.” Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose and continued speaking, hiding behind the dark shroud of his eyelids. “We were being followed... it’s like they’re goddamn bloodhounds or something... and they are back there somewhere.” Wilson opened his red rimmed eyes and stared straight ahead.
Sasha rubbed her brother’s shoulder, searching her teenaged mind for some comforting words. “It was a good plan and we
did
escape Denver. Don’t beat yourself up brother...
you are not to blame
.”
Ted finally piped up from the backseat. “They were hunting for
anything
living. For Christ’s sake I saw a bunch of them corner a pack of stray dogs and devour them in seconds... fucking seconds. And sooner or later, after they consumed anything with a pulse
--
including Fido
--
they
were
bound to leave the city...
it was inevitable
.”
“I’d tend to agree with ol’ Ted here,” Pug said. “Besides, it sounds like you’re frettin' a lot over a few walkers. How many did you say there were?”
“I purposefully
did not
,” Wilson said, barely above a whisper. “And if all of the walkers that were behind us when we fled Denver
are
still following us... then you
do not
want to know how many of them there
are
.”
Pug was about to open his mouth and try to force a number out of Wilson when the female zombie lurched into the truck’s path. He had already been aware of the creature in the distance, limping along the side of the road, but he hadn’t anticipated her abrupt change in direction. A slight glancing blow from the left front fender spun the zombie around.
In that brief moment, Sasha realized that the walker had an infant strapped to its chest and that the small body was wildly flailing its chubby arms in the air. “Oh my God, did anyone else see the baby?”
“Get your eyes checked young lady. All I saw was that solo walker,” Pug lied.
“Well I
did
. Stop this truck
right now
. We’ve got to check... just in case,” Sasha said vehemently. She jammed her fist in her mouth and began to gnaw on her knuckles. It was her subconscious reaction to stress and a very hard habit to break.
“We don’t have time to stop... it’s gonna be dark in a couple of hours,” Pug said. “Besides... you know the mom and the child are both in the same boat. They’re
fuckin
dead.”
“Are you sure? You were going pretty fast,” Sasha said, her voice brimming with hope.
Wilson spoke after a few seconds of uneasy silence. “I’ll go back and check... because if I don’t, it’s going to bother me forever.” He wasn’t doing it only for his sister’s sake. It was also for him... the fact that he hadn’t put the neighbor’s toddler down after he bashed her parents’ undead brains in still weighed heavy on his heart. He could still see little Sarah slamming against the baby gate, her beady dead eyes hungering for a hunk of his flesh.
Pug remained silent, weighing whether he should let the young man out and then drive away, leaving him for the dead. Then he remembered that the Ted fella in the backseat had a shotgun, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember if it was loaded.
Curse you old age
, he thought. It was very tempting, but he took the high road and pulled over.
They all heard and felt the low rumble of the engines before the jet airplanes screamed back overhead. The stealth bombers were cruising at a much lower altitude than they had been on their northbound flyby.
Wilson gaped at the planes as they blotted out the sky over the truck; they passed so close that he could see the gray U.S. Air Force markings. He turned and peered out the rear window towards Denver, half-expecting to see mushroom clouds blooming on the horizon.
Nothing.
As if he were reading Wilson’s thoughts, Pug said, “We’re OK. It looks like they didn’t nuke Denver. Time’s a wastin', you wanna take my pistol... so you can do them both?”
“No, but thanks,” Wilson said icily as he exited the truck, bat in hand, and started his hundred yard trudge towards closure.
Sasha watched with rapt attention while she continued to chew on her fist.
Wilson moved closer to the walker. He had covered only half of the distance before his gut feeling was confirmed
--
he covered the remaining fifty yards thinking only about what he needed to do.
With only fifteen feet separating him and the hissing ghoul Wilson readied the Louisville Slugger. At five feet the undead baby in the carrier started to moan along with its mother. The chorus chilled his soul. It wasn’t a fair fight
--
his rage versus the zombie’s mindless drive.
Sasha watched the events unfold through her fingers. Wilson’s bat lashed out. He didn’t stop swinging until well after the zombies quit moving. She folded her small form on the seat and thought about her mom, trying to visualize her warm happy smile and the little tilt of her head when she was about to offer up an unwanted piece of wisdom. It was all gone now. Try as she might she couldn’t even remember what her mom had smelled like
--
the reassuring scent that meant she was present and everything was going to be all right. And worst of all Sasha feared that she had lost her rock... the always steady and predictable Wilson seemed to be a different person... he now seemed cold and detached.