The Age of Zombies: Sergeant Jones (10 page)

“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “Yeah. Yeah. Where are you? Drinking again. Yeah. Yeah. You don’t even have to answer that. Just yeah.”

Jones bit the end of his thumb. “Yeah, I’m drinking.”

“Down at The Small Tavern. You just had to get your Penny fix, didn’t you. Yeah. Yeah.”

Jones sped up his pace. “Oh, shit Vanessa,” he said. “You have some big balls calling me and accusing me of anything.”  

“Yeah, so tell me what she’s wearing. I bet it’s sexy. Her tight little ass must look great tonight.”

“You sound ridiculous,” Jones said. “I just needed to relax. Have a drink or two.”

Vanessa sobbed. She had been holding in so much over the last eight years. Everything had been great on the surface. She loved Jones. She would die for her husband. But along with her devotion, a current of resentment flowed. “I just can’t do it anymore,” she stuttered between sobs. “You being gone all the time. Signing up for every tour.” She was on the verge of breaking down. “You don’t know what it’s like, William. Thinking that at any moment, I could get the call.”

Jones knew it was hard on Vanessa. But she crossed the line in her rebellion. And that’s exactly what it was with the jogger: rebellion. “I fought for my country,” Jones said. “I signed up for what was right. But you know what? More than anything? These last eight years were for you and our family.” Jones clenched his jaw. He struggled with his next words. “I just can’t believe what you did to me, Vanessa. I just don’t know why.”

“I love you!” Vanessa shouted. “I love you so damn much! But you were gone so much, it was like you didn’t exist to me anymore. You were a figment of my imagination. A fantasy. I couldn’t be alone anymore. I just couldn’t.”

Jones stood up from the bench and jabbed the air. He bit his lips so he wouldn’t berate her. “You know you could’ve talked to me,” he said. “Anytime, anywhere, you could’ve said something. I thought we were tight, Vanessa. I thought our bond was eternal. And look at what you did. You threw it away while I was gone over there in hell, with that piece of shit jogger? I just can’t believe it. I just can’t.”

Vanessa attempted a defense. But Jones was done.

Jones clicked the red end call button. He made his way back to the tavern. The conversation with Vanessa was too much for him to handle. He couldn’t believe her audacity. He had given her everything, nearly sacrificing his own life for their stability, and she tossed it all in the shitter. After so many years, this is what it all came down to.

The gravity of the situation was dispelled once Jones stepped foot into the tavern. Pete and Penny greeted Jones with enthusiasm. They seemed a lot closer than when Jones had left them; and that was okay by him.

“Jones! You’re back!” Pete welcomed the Sergeant back with open arms. The frat boy radiated an uncharacteristic warmth. Jones was put off at first, but his defenses rapidly fell. Pete wrapped his arms around him. “It’s been so awesome to meet you,” Pete said. “Penny’s been telling me so much about how great you really are. It’s an honor. A real honor.”

Jones disengaged from the embrace. It felt nice, but he had enough. “Likewise Pete,” he said. He was trying to sound as genuine as possible. “Penny’s pretty great too.” At least that part rang true.

“You’re just a bundle of love, Jones,” Penny said. “I was just telling Pete how much you’ve rocked our world and kept our country free. Hooah, my friend.”

“Hooah,” Jones said.

“Hooah. So, let’s hear what happened,” Pete said. “We’re dying to know what happened in the tunnel.” Pete retracted from his initial enthusiasm. He realized that Jones might want to stay mum on the whole thing. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”  

“Ah, lucky fucky,” Jones said. “I need another shot.”

“Buzzkill?” Penny said.

“Major buzzkill.” Jones rubbed his temples until Penny delivered on the bourbon. Jones lifted his shot glass and clinked with the others. “May those that love their lives never cross my wife. There, I almost rhymed. Now drink.”

“A great toast!” Pete said. He threw back his shot.

“So where was I?” Jones said.

“You’re in the tunnel and just came across the uniforms,” Penny said. “And Jones, you don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”

Jones nodded and sat next to Pete. “You ever have the feeling that you were about to lose everything?”

Pete thought for a moment, and shook his head no.

“I get that sometimes,” Jones said. “It’s from the war. You lose a lot. You take a lot. It’s nothing to see a shrink about, but it’s tough. It bleeds into everything. I loved Vanessa, you know. She’s my wife. The mother of my child, well, soon to be children. I’ll have a son soon, born from a woman who ripped my heart out. And I’ll tell you why. Every morning that I wake up, my gut tells me that I’m gonna lose it all. And that oozes out of me. It touches everything that I love.”

“I’m so sorry,” Pete said.

“Never apologize kid,” Jones said. “A sorry never swept the floor.”

“A broom does.”

“That’s right kid. Only thing that matters is action.” Jones lit a cigarette. Smoke was comfort. “You two want to know what happened after finding that pile of uniforms, don’t you? Well, there’s this roar. It’s quiet at first, but then I heard it strong. All of a sudden I look down, and the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the bones, everything’s covered in these pudgy white worms.”

“Gross,” Penny said with a wince.

“Let’s just say we booked it,” Jones said. “We get to the head of the tunnel, and I tell Roddy in no uncertain terms that we’d never say a word about what we saw down there ever, to anybody.” Jones finished his beer. “But look at me,” he said defiantly. “I’m drunk, and stupid, and I’m spilling the beans.”

Presently, Jones received another phone call. He looked at his iPhone and the display said “Unknown Caller.”

“Vanessa wants you back,” Penny said.

“Excuse me while I answer this.” Jones left The Small Tavern and walked half a block away before hitting the answer button. “Your antics are tiring, Vanessa,” he said. “Just give it up. Because I’ve given up on all this. So you can cut it all out now. Got it? And this little trick of yours, calling in on a blocked number, is really cute. Reminds me of junior high days.”

The other end of the line was silent. No response. Not even a breath could be heard.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Jones said. “This is straight out of the high school bitch playbook. My life is gonna be so much simpler without you, Nessa. So much simpler. And guess what? I’m gonna see Emma Jo. I’m gonna see her whenever I want. She’s mine, too. I’m her father. And that baby in your belly? He’s mine, too. Got it? Nothing that you do can keep me from Junior.”

The street was quiet. Oregon’s summer air was warm and serene. Jones looked back at the tavern and noticed a couple drunks stumble in. He waited for a response from Vanessa. But the line was dead quiet. He lit another cigarette.

“God damnit, say something! I’m tired of all this!”

“It’s time for you to listen now.”  

“Vanessa? What is going on? Cut the crap.”

“Your pregnant wife and child are poker chips now.” The voice on the other end wasn’t human. Jones pinched himself to make sure that this was all real. “Our organization shall use them as an ante in our game. Just know that you brought this on yourself, Jones. You chose to play this game. And now there’s no turning back.”

Jones felt like a fool. He just dished out his heart and soul to Pete and Penny, and now they were taking advantage of his vulnerability. It was painfully obvious that this
was
 a ruse. “Alright Pete, you’re good. Somehow you dialed me without me knowing. I dunno how you did it, but you’re good.”

“We are good, Jones,” the voice said. “We’re so good that we’ll comfortably raise the stakes. You have ten minutes to get back home and save your family. Tick tock, Jones. Tick tock.”

The line went dead. Jones stuffed his phone in his pocket, and rushed back to The Small Tavern. He burst through the door and found Penny and Pete in light conversation. They both turned to Jones and welcomed him back.

The threat was real, Jones realized. He had to get back home. The Sergeant’s brain went into war mode. “They’re after my family,” he said. He withdrew his concealed Glock 30s .45, and without saying another word, he ran back out to his Jeep.

He hopped in, jabbed the key into the ignition, turned it on, and sped off. Jones cruised right through four red lights, barely swerving enough to avoid collisions.

Thoughts raced through his mind: How many will be there? What do they want? Why are they here?

His blood fiended for nicotine, but there wasn’t time. Seven minutes were already spent. He had eight more, and a mile and a half until home.

Jones was doing ninety five. He sped past a cop who was parked in an abandoned asphalt lot. The cop didn’t catch the blur.

Finally, Jones made it home. He peeled down the street, and turned sharp into his driveway. The Jeep ended up on the front lawn.

Jones hopped out and started for the door. A couple blocks down he saw a black Humvee, sitting quiet in the night, beneath a street lamp’s glow. He turned the door knob, and it was locked. There wasn’t time to knock. Jones backed up ten yards from the house, lowered his head, and sprinted. His body shattered through the living room bay windows.

Shards of glass jutted out of his arms and face, but that didn’t phase him. He shot up from the carpet, and rushed upstairs. Vanessa started screaming at the top of her lungs. Jones burst into the master bedroom, and tackled his wife to the floor.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jones said with his hand cupped over her mouth. “Not another sound.”

Vanessa struggled to get away from Jones. But he was too strong. He was twice as big, and four times as strong.

Jones picked her up from the ground, and threw her on the bed like a rag doll. “We’ve got four minutes to live,” he said. “And I don’t have time to explain. I want you to go grab Emma Jo, and take her up to the attic. Both of you, don’t say a word, don’t even breathe if you can help it.”

Vanessa remained sprawled out on the bed, staring up at her husband in shock.

“Get moving!” Jones shouted. “Go, go, go, go!”

Jones pulled out his .45 and directed Vanessa off the bed and out to Emma Jo’s room. Vanessa started sobbing, but she followed her husband’s orders. She woke up Emma Jo and kept her hushed up. Vanessa stopped crying, and the two crawled up into the attic.

Jones didn’t have much time. Two and a half minutes. He ransacked his nightstand and found a 9mm pistol. He ran downstairs and looked around for a place to hide. He knew he was going to be at a numbers disadvantage, and so he had to rely on the element of surprise. He ran around checking out tables to duck under or couches to hide behind, but nothing seemed right. Finally, he saw it. The kitchen pantry.

He threw open the door and stepped inside. It was one of those walk in pantries that you see in modern suburban homes. It smelled like wheat flour and boxes of pasta.

One minute left. Jones made himself perfectly still. He closed his eyes and flashed back to the day he lost Big Boy in Afghanistan. He saw a lot in combat. A lot of it he couldn’t explain. But nothing was like that day. Those monsters were back now. They took his friend, and now they wanted more.

But why?

Jones didn’t have the luxury knowing why.

He only knew that he had to keep fighting.

Fifteen seconds.

Ten, nine, eight. Jones held his breath. Seven, six, five. He readied his pistol. Four, three, two.

One. Nothing. Only an eerie quiet. Jones kept holding his breath, he couldn’t afford to make a sound. His heart thudded against his ribs. It sounded like war drums.

Another minute passed. And another. Jones was forced to take a breath, and he took two. But that was it. His lungs held every gaseous molecule tight.

And then he heard it. The front door was kicked in. The crash was quick and heavy. Seconds later, Jones could hear three pairs of boots thud into the house.

They stormed through the kitchen, the living room, and the garage. He heard them go out into the backyard. When they came back in, they started speaking in a foreign tongue. Nothing that Jones had ever heard before.

The giants slowed down their search. Their next step was to go upstairs. Just as Jones heard the first boots on the stairs, he jolted out of the pantry.

Two of the giants were half way up the stairs when Jones got there. Their backs were facing him. With equal parts rage and focus, Jones emptied his Glock .45 into their skulls. Worms went flying everywhere.

The giants tumbled down the stairs, and landed at the Sarge’s feet. He kicked one in the skull. More white worms slithered out. Jones crushed them with his boot.

Then a shot of pain ran up his spine. Jones collapsed next to the giants. He was stunned, and couldn’t move. It was the third giant. Jones took a hard kick in the spine.

The giant threw Jones over his right shoulder, and lugged him into the living room. The giant released the Sarge’s limp body by the fire place. Jones lost his pistols when he got knocked down. The suddenness and strength of the attack was paralyzing.