Zombie Rush 3 Page 15

"Black girl, what black girl?" Skit asked, not seeing one on the screen.

  "She jumped over the edge when the swarm got too great. Sadly, I think she is dead now. I wonder where the bear girl is."

  "Her name is Kodiak, and if she was in sight I would spot her," Skit assured.

  "Oh, you like that, do ya?" Lisa chided.

  "She is so hot even a gay man would like her," he poked back, both of them feeling a little lighter of spirit after their showers and the people being partially rescued.

  Lisa looked at the bone in her hand and silently wished Dean to catch him and immediately destroy him along with anything that has to do with him. The man owned a part of her and would own that part until his last day; he needed to be eliminated. She didn't care by who, she just wanted it done.

  Charlie disappeared from view in the stop motion fashion of the single slide display of the billboard. Lisa wished more than anything that she was there, but she was committed to being here and seeing this mission through. Allowing herself to be swayed by his location would only be another win for him. He would never own more of her than he already did.

  A light caught her eye from the top of the radio, signaling that the power was running low, and she wondered where the charging apparatus was. The billboard was displaying nothing but a rooftop filled with zombies now so Lisa turned it off. The radio suddenly came to life.

  "They got him, Lisa. They caught Skinner," Cat said excitedly, causing Lisa to snatch the radio up.

  "Kill him, Cat. Don't mess around, just kill him," Lisa said and released the button to hear Cat.

  "Got him in an apartment building. Over."

  Fuck! Lisa realized that she hadn't waited for Cat to say over the first time and keyed the mic again.

  "Kill him, Cat, make sure he is dead; completely dead. Over."

  "I couldn't catch that, Lieutenant. Your signal has gone all haywire. Over."

  Lisa repeated herself, knowing it was futile. The radio just didn't have enough power to put a message out. She looked at Skit hopelessly and he simply shrugged.

  Somehow, Lisa knew that it wasn't going to go the way she wanted it to. It never did where the good Doctor Web was concerned.

  Chapter 15;

  Sedge

  Cat set the radio down and folded up her computer, disappointed that her communication went dead, just as a man in uniform approached her.

  "Excuse me, miss. Are you the marksman instructor?" he asked.

  "I am. Now don't tell me … you need to learn how to operate a firearm," Cat said sarcastically to the soldier.

  "Me? No. I'm sharpshooter certified. I'm here to talk to you about something else. A friend of mine, Tim. He saw you here doing what you are doing. Unfortunately, he became infected and is gone now, but he wanted me to give you something."

  "Me? Why me?" Cat asked suspiciously.

  "Well, I guess because he had no one left, and he knew that you would take care of it," Carlos said as he handed her the drop-leg holster filled with the precious piece.

  "You're kidding, right?" Cat said as she saw the prohibition-style grip of the Python. A black rubber sleeve had been slipped over the grip to protect the old wood plates underneath.

  "No, ma'am, he specifically said you. Tim was his name."

  "Tim? I met Tim. He went out with Lisa's group and was big in gaining access to the storage lockers," Cat said bringing back some memories of Tim.

  "Seriously, he wants you to have it. Take it please."

  "I'm proud to take it. I'm not typically a revolver fan, but I will make this my primary sidearm, Carlos, thank you," Cat said as she took the weapon from him and strapped it around her tiny waist. She bent down to tie the thigh stabilizer and looked up into Carlos's face. "I’ll picture Tim's face every time I touch it." She pulled the sidearm and spun the wheel to see only three rounds and made a mental note to pick up some .45s, as her Glock was a 9mm.

  "Cool," Carlos replied, a little stunned by her face. Cat was no slouch when it came to looks as a rule, but she had one of those faces where you didn't realize how irresistible she was until she laid those big blue peepers on you and flashed her brilliant smile. Carlos kind of stumbled a bit as he turned to go and flashed an embarrassed smile back at her. She waited a couple of seconds before she called out.

  "Hey, Carlos, are you hungry?"

  "Yeah, I'm hungry."

  "Grab your boys and meet me over by the soup line. I hear they have bean and ham today."

  "Sounds good, we could use a real meal for a change," Carlos said. They had never eaten in the compound, choosing instead to stick to their rations in the past.

  The soup line was designed specifically for the purpose of those on duty and there were several set up in the compound. Cat always went to the first one that was closest to the main gate. Carlos and six others soon surrounded her each with their own cups filled with steaming soup and a cold cut sandwich.

  "Sharpshooter, huh? What does that actually mean by military standards?" Cat asked of Carlos.

  "It means I could have tested out for Special Forces if nothing else was wrong with me, then …" he started to reply.

  "Yeah, but they weren't able to see what is really wrong with Carlos." One of his buddies leaned in and gave the man a slap on the shoulder.

  "What, is something wrong with you?" Cat asked.

  "Yes."

  "Yes, but you don't want to talk about it?" Cat pried.

  "No, I don't give a fuck."

  "Oh, then tell me," Cat said truly curious now and Carlos just smiled.

  "No, that is the problem … I just don't give a fuck. They spotted it in testing right off. I mean I'm ready to go full bore in a combat situation. I'm just not willing to do it for exercise, and training is not my thing. I got enough of that in boot, and Rangers don't like that attitude."

  "Oh, lazy huh?"

  "No. I mean they called me that, but I'm not, never have been. Just becoming an efficient killer for whoever was not on my list of things to do. I prefer the one weekend a month and my tech job at the phone company, is all. I'm not cut out to be running around the world killing people."

  "I get that. I thought of using the military to get through college but dad had a program through work and I didn't have to."

  "Yeah, I know it sounds cheesy, but that is why I joined up."

  "So what's with the weekend warrior thing? I mean you served, so your time should be up," Cat prodded.

  "Yeah … turns out, I kinda liked it. I mean, I am good at it and I don't ever want to lose that so I practice one weekend a month."

  "Cool, I could sure use a sharpshooter here to help me with the training and manning the walls."

  "Sorry, but the squad is already down a man with Tim out. His plan was to stick next to the lieutenant and be her go-to crew. I plan on seeing that through. As soon as we get some shuteye and re-stock, we are headed back to the front."

  "I get that. I would go with you if I could, but she assigned me to be here doing training."

  "I know. Everybody knows who you are and they respect you. Hell, you're on one of the councils that govern the remaining human populace. You're here because you could take charge if you had to, and everybody knows it. I couldn't," Carlos said, and his buds seemed to mumble in agreement.

  "You guys seem to know a lot by hanging out on the front killing zombies," Cat said as she stood with her dishes. "Don't be a stranger, Carlos. Come see me the next time you're in the compound."

  "Thanks, Cat, I will," he said to her retreating form as his boys roughed him around a bit. Carlos suddenly felt like he was in an old World War II movie with all the feigned camaraderie, except this wasn't feigned. They were his boys, one and all. They were all of equal rank, but seemed to be looking to him to be making the decisions. They want it, they got it; it would be the least he could do for his boys—until someone wanted to argue, then they could be in charge.

  Carlos and his boys sat on one side of the table, watching the outer wall as cables wer
e hooked to a massive storage container and stretched to a crane. The cables tightened and the container started to rise from the ground. All of them visually checked their rifles while Billy stopped eating and grabbed his M4 and charged it. It pulled a foot and a half off the ground and instantly had zombies trying to crawl under it. The crane released, crushing the heads of the over-eager undead. The process was repeated three times before they raised it completely and allowed shooters, including Cat, and some skid loaders to finish off the remaining Z's. Soon, an Army APC pulled in through the opening, followed by a couple of Humvees. Carlos caught a uniform out of the corner of his eye and suddenly realized there was an Army officer standing right next to him.

  "Ten-shun!" Carlos said and stood with his hand to his brow in the best salute he could muster as he snapped around to face the colonel on his left.

  "At ease, gentlemen. Finish your soup and then we'll have a little talk as soon as my crew get over here," the colonel said in a surprisingly casual manner.

  Carlos wondered how much military jargon he was going to put up with. He wasn't a deserter, nor were his boys, but they kind of felt like the military had deserted them. Coming up on five days into this, and the Regular Army finally shows up; it just didn't sit right.

  "So are you the local guard unit?" the colonel asked.

  "No, sir, we are out of Hot Springs Village just north of here," Carlos responded.

  "A little far out of your territory, aren't you?" the colonel pried.

  "No, sir. Hot Springs Village is dead. We have been assigned to run interference for Lieutenant Lisa Reynolds, sir. We offered secure passage to the Little Rock survivors that were being bussed here and have instructions to eat, get some shut-eye, and return to the front, sir."

  "Ahhh, the legendary Lisa Reynolds. I have heard a lot about her. Are you boys ready to come back into the fold of the U.S. Army?" the colonel asked, expecting a certain answer.

  "No, sir." Was what he got, which caused him to look at the men with a side eye. This was a new world, he knew, and that meant that some loyalties would change, but this blatant disregard did not sit well with the colonel.

  "You know that I have the men and resources to bring you back in whether you want to or not."

  "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but do you? I was instructed by the Governor of Arkansas to put Arkansas as my number one priority. I am doing that, sir," Carlos said, bald-faced. He did not want an issue with Regular Army; nobody wanted that. The lieutenant was on the right path not only for Arkansas but for humanity. Carlos didn't see this colonel in particular as being that self-sacrificing. Truth was, Lisa Reynolds was a foul-mouthed bitch, but she walked it like she talked it, and nobody could fault her for that.

  "Be very certain of where your loyalties lie, young man. The United States of America doesn't look kindly on deserters or dissenters, especially during times of need," the colonel said, and Carlos felt his boys stiffen in response to his warning.

  Carlos had to play it calmly and give him nothing to come back at him with. However, being that he was a colonel with an obvious high regard for himself, all he could say was, "Yes, sir."

  He snapped to attention, as did his boys, while delivering perfectly maneuvered salutes. The colonel gave a nod and headed toward the crowd. Just then, a Humvee pulled in, and out stepped a uniformed police officer.

  "Just the man I am looking for. Are you officer Art Benson?"

  "Yes, sir, I am. What can I do for you, Colonel?" Benson said, already having a suspicion as to his intents.

  "We have scatterings of soldiers all over the country that will soon be coming here, Officer Benson, and I was wondering where we can set up shop?" the colonel said confidently, knowing that they would want him and his troops there.

  "Well, nobody has lain claim to the high school yet. That will give you some parking lot space and room to expand, and even a pool if you know how to maintain it. You have to leave the athletic fields clear, as that is scheduled to be used as grazing area," Benson said as he pointed toward the high school that was secured earlier in the day.

  "I'm sorry, Officer Benson, but that is going to be too far out of the way to control the situation."

  "Situation? I guess I am not following you, Colonel. What situation are you referring to?"

  "Let's just be honest with each other, Art; may I call you Art?"

  "No, you may refer to me as Officer Benson. Now what situation are you referring to?" Benson said, leaving no doubts that he wasn't in the mood to play games. A lot of people were intimidated by men in uniform, especially officers, but Benson had dealt with them on many levels before and knew their protocol and how much a lot of them desired to be in control of things. He wasn't intimidated in the least and would go toe-to-toe with anyone trying to disrupt the flow of what they had going right now. Benson may not like how the command structure had lain itself out, but he had to admit it was working and thousands of lives had already been saved because of it. He wasn't about to let that be changed by a tin-star colonel.

  "Very well then. I'm here to relieve you and take over the compound. You are in need of trained military and procedures, desperately I might add, and I'm here to provide that," the colonel said smugly.

  "I guess that has worked really well in the rest of the country, hasn't it? Colonel … Jeffers is it?"

  "I can tell that you are an ex-military, Officer Benson. Do I have to pull up your file before we have a sit-down, or are we going to come to some sort of understanding here?"

  "Oh, I think that we understand each other perfectly well, Colonel Jeffers. I did spend some time in some sand, but it was as a defense contractor as well as a security specialist. Last I checked, we didn't fall under your jurisdiction." Why he told the colonel this when he had kept it secret even from his friends for the last few years he didn't know. But he was sure it had to do with some of the reputation he and his group in particular had established over there.

  "Let me save us both a little time, Colonel. We have already established two committees that have designated sections of day-to-day operations, for which they are responsible. We have three city officials who have never vacated their post and are dedicated to work through the current crisis situation. Hot Springs is not in disarray or at the whim of gangs or dictators, so there is no need for military control here—which I should remind you has never been requested.

  "The democratic process has never stopped, and we are still functioning under the banner of Hot Springs Arkansas so there is no anarchy. So you see, your services are not needed nor are they desired. At least in that capacity."

  "Tell me, Officer Benson, have you talked to your Governor since all of this went down?" the Colonel pried, trying to find a weak spot that he could exploit.

  "Never talked to him before this happened. For all I know, he's on vacation at a distant country club. He doesn't have to be around for me to do my job. So the high school is over there, but I need a decision before I turn it over to some other groups in need of housing. If you choose to leave, you will have to recon some distant airports for fuel, as all that we have here is reserved for those who are participating in the recovery." Benson suddenly understood how Lisa felt when she was laying down her rules to thugs and criminals, and he liked it. Here was a man who lived for his uniform and couldn't see beyond that. Not Benson's kind of people.

  The colonel just stared at him for a few seconds before responding, realizing that he had misjudged the police officer; he wouldn't allow that to happen again.

  "We'll take the high school."

  "Excellent decision; be sure to inform your men that they will be on ten-hour rotations and may get their assignments from me."

  "Excuse me?" Colonel Jeffers responded more than a little shocked at Benson's assumption.

  "Everything has a price, Colonel Jeffers. If you are going to share in the safety and comfort of Hot Springs, you are going to have to earn it. I need to send a few of your guys up to the dam and clear out some Z's that are d
isrupting our defensive capabilities around the hydro plant up there. They will be accompanying some ranchers, construction workers, and equipment operators."

  "Farmers?"

  "Yes, the zombies are cattle, Colonel. Who better to direct them than cattle and horsemen?"

  Chapter 16

  Drop Leg

  Web wasn't surprised that he had been caught. He knew that was only a matter of odds and time. With the way things went down, having all of those unexpected variables show up on scene, combined with his own over zealousness to put on a show for all to see, it was only fitting. It serves me right.

  What he was surprised about was the fact that he was still alive. He was amazed that they assumed he wouldn't have a plan for a situation like this.

  Zip-tied with his hands behind his back, just the way he figured they would do in a crowd of people he had never met nor seen before, with the exception of one. Ethel was her name, if he remembered correctly. She had been a client at the surgery center for an enhancement procedure that a lot of performers had. Now she simply glared at him with hollow sunken eyes, barely able to restrain herself. But why? He had done good work—he could tell just from looking at her and the way everything stood up and out on her body, but then it came back to him. She had been there with a friend. A friend who had just happened to fit the bill of candidacy.

  Webber waited over a year before he initiated their re-acquaintance. He spent weeks with subtle intimidation and driving her a little bit closer to the edge each day. He remembered slipping into her house and doing things that may or may not even be noticed. Moving a small sculpture from one end of the room to another, or turning a rotating picture display to a different picture, putting the salt and pepper shakers in the refrigerator. His personal favorite was running the dishwasher or even emptying it while she was at work. Little things like that wear away at a person, creating a level of self-doubt that was mildly entertaining.

  Web would gradually up the scale of things in more subtly powerful ways like smearing the scent of decomposition on the inside of her car and in her bedroom closet. Just a couple of places where she would typically find refuge, and making them into a place of dread. De-comp stench, once you smell it, you will always recognize it. There is a primal awareness in all animals, including humans, to the stench even if you have never smelled it before.