A Pound of Flesh: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (35 page)

On the bird’s eye maple stand beside the
California King bed, his Iridium phone began to bleat.

Christian corralled the phone answering with
a curt, “Yes.” He nodded his head in silence. Then he arose from
the bed, strode thirty feet across the room, opened the French
doors, and took the rest of the call on the expansive outside
veranda. As he listened to the voice on the other end he nudged the
broken teak chaise lounge with his toe. Finally he spoke into the
phone, “Good job sir. When your work is done there I need you to
return home. I have a certain someone who is getting a little too
big for their britches. That someone needs to be dealt with.” He
went silent and listened for a moment before replying, “Yes, him.
And I want you to terminate with extreme prejudice.” Then after
ending the call Robert Christian screamed, “
Who smashed my
furniture
?”

Down the hall Clifford perked up. Eyes wide
he contemplated spilling the beans. Then, deciding that he did not
want to be involved, he swung the door to the security center shut
leaving behind a trio of orange fingerprints.

Tran knocked politely before entering with
the two bottles of Veuve Clicquot champagne and a sizable tray of
finger food—toast points and caviar included.

“Set it there,” Christian grunted.

Tran bowed and exited without saying a
word.

Christian took one of the bottles to the
veranda and with a
POP
sent the cork flying into the
swimming pool. Then wrinkling his nose in disgust at the noisy
generator he went back to the master bedroom, shutting the French
doors behind him.

He looked at the empty bed and thought about
having Bishop find him another girl. Then his gaze shifted to the
two full bottles of bubbly and decided his libido could wait.

Chapter 37

Outbreak - Day 11

Schriever AFB

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Brook heard the peals of laughter from the
sidewalk. And as she reached the door, raucous words devoid of
anger and hurt and hate—kind words of kids playing and getting
along and healing—reached her ears. For several minutes she
loitered in front of Annie’s door, basking in the sounds of
life.

She knocked.

Raven squealed.

The door opened and fifty some odd pounds of
Grayson vaulted the threshold and into Brook’s arms.

***

While the kids played—Raven pretending to be
Cinderella and the twins the Wicked Step Sisters—Annie and Brook
held a quiet conversation.

“How are you doing hon?”

Putting her hand atop Brook’s, Annie made a
face and responded in a low voice, “I’m getting along... I had
prepared myself for that day for the last twenty years. I just
never believed it would happen. I knew that some cave dwelling
terrorist wasn’t going to get the best of my big bad Mike. And they
didn’t...”

Brook nodded.

Annie went on, “None of us saw this
disease... virus... or act of God coming. I couldn’t have ever
fathomed something like this happening to as many people as it has
afflicted.
You
know. You were just out there.”

Silence.

“...and just when I think Mike still has his
Teflon armor on. You know he talks to me... the mission to the
White House. For God’s sake, he had to cut off the President’s hand
to get the
football,
” Annie said.

Mike Jr. rolled his tiny head side to side
then went still, all swaddled and safe in his bassinet.

With a tilt of her head Brook asked, “What do
you mean,
football
?”

“It’s what the suitcase is called where they
keep the nuclear codes.”

Wide eyed, Brook nodded.

"He survived the mission to the CDC in
Atlanta.”

Brook just listened. In fact most of what
Annie spoke of was news to her.

“And
my
Mike and
your
Cade
survived the mission to retrieve some nuclear weapons that were
stolen from Minot and then set off two of those nukes to save all
of us from the Denver horde.”

“He was a hell of a man,” Brook stated.

Misty eyed, Annie went on, “And after
surviving all of that... some fucker destroys the antiserum—kills
your brother and ultimately signs
my
Mike’s death
warrant.”

“I’m
soo
sorry Annie,” Brook said as
she wrapped her good friend in a loving embrace. “If you need
anything
...”

“I’ll ask. I’m not shy,” Annie said, wiping a
fresh tear from the corner of her eye.

Instantly Brook feared for Cade. She had felt
all of the emotions before but she hadn’t actually acknowledged the
fact that he would be gone for good someday, and for some reason or
another it hit her harder than ever.

“Let’s go Raven,” she whispered.

Mike Jr. cooed, wormed his arms from the
blanket and batted at his face

“You see. He’s a fighter just like his
namesake.”

“I love you Annie,” Brook said,
“
Anything
that you need...”

***

After returning to the barracks, Brook went
straight for the shower and as the water washed the smell of death
from her body she tried to purge the specter of death from her
mind. She stepped into the cool air and stared at her image in the
mirror and then, trying to convince herself of something she had no
control over quietly said, “Cade’s coming home.”

After toweling off she slipped into a pair of
Cade’s boxers and, completing the ensemble, pulled on an olive drab
shirt with the word ARMY printed in gold.

“Mom.”

“Yes sweetie.”

Raven turned her big browns on her mom and
asked, “What happened out there?”

“We got in the middle of a whole lot of
them
... but it’s OK,” she said, emotion seeping into her
words. “Mom’s here now and she isn’t going to leave you alone
again.”

“I’m glad you’re back...” Raven whispered,
gripping her mom’s toned bicep firmly.

“Me too sweetie... me too.”

Brook stroked Raven’s hair until the girl’s
breathing steadied and she had fallen asleep. Then she lay awake
listening to the rain battering the barrack’s roof. She couldn’t
help thinking about her brother and all that they had been through
since the first days of the outbreak in Myrtle Beach. How he had
miraculously escaped the blood bath at Grand Strand Regional
Hospital only to come full circle and die in the infirmary at
Schriever.

Falling asleep proved difficult. The Grayson
family mantra ran on a loop through her head. For family truly is
the most important thing.

Unable to calm her mind and uncertain whether
she had latched the door when they returned from the Desantos
billet, Brook swung her legs off of the bunk.

A flash of white caught her eye. Behind the
table, trapped between the wall and the leg of the folding chair
was the note that she had left for Cade to read before his mission
to Jackson Hole.

She made sure the door was locked and then
retrieved the piece of paper, placing it on the table where it had
been originally.

She climbed back into bed free of resentment,
and under the assumption that Cade had somehow missed seeing her
note, she drifted off to sleep in her daughter’s embrace.

***

Wilson drove the food laden moving truck to
the mess hall after he dropped Brook off at the military
personnel’s barracks. He parked the Dakota truck behind the squat
building and deposited the keys and Motorola radio in the glove
box, then sat and listened to the rain ping against the roof.

A dull ache radiated from the base of his
spine through his neck muscles on down his arms. Even his fingers
were sore from strangling the steering wheel in a death grip over
many hours. What he wouldn’t give for a good massage. He thought
through his options. Sasha—way too creepy. Ted—out of the question.
Dejected, he pulled the boonie hat low on his head and grabbed his
Louisville Slugger. Hungry but too tired to stop and get something
to eat, he slid off the seat, slammed the door and trudged off
through the forming mud puddles.

Chapter 38

Outbreak - Day 11

Jackson Hole, Wyoming

9:45 p.m.

The night sounds found their normal rhythm
after the sun had fully set. The katabatic wind picked up and the
temperature dropped to the lower fifties, forcing the men on the
desolate ski hill to button up against the chill.

Scattered high clouds scudded across the
slivered moon leaving the city below in full dark. Save for a few
generators purring in the distance and the intermittently recurring
engine growl of the patrol vehicle, Jackson Hole was deathly
quiet.

After an hour had passed the four men powered
up the Night Vision Goggles clipped to the front of their tactical
helmets. Once flipped down, the NVGs turned night into a type of
green-hued day in which the team had the capability to see without
being seen.

Cade panned his head, surveying the glowing
terrain as he picked his way down the steep Double Black Diamond
run someone had named Belly Roll, while planted firmly in his mind
the knowledge that should he slip the ride to the bottom would be
anything but.

Their original plan of lying up on the ski
hill until the early morning hours changed the moment Daymon was
spotted entering the firehouse less than a mile away.

Cade thought with a little persuasion his old
friend might be willing to help, and if he wasn’t, well, then Cade
had a zip tie with the man’s name on it. At any rate, the building,
two blocks removed from the main road through downtown, would be a
perfect jumping off spot for the operation.

As the hill bottomed out, Cade went to a knee
next to the Summit lift control booth and signaled for the rest of
his team to follow suit. He trained his weapon on the half empty
parking lot and motioned for the other operators to continue to the
cluster of buildings to his right.

Lopez heel and toed it slowly towards the
three-story resort hotel which loomed above and completely blocked
out the ambient moonlight shining through the cloud strata. He
viewed the luxury ski destination through the NVGs. It looked like
it had been transplanted from downtown Beirut. Though still intact,
from a distance the windows and doorways seemed to have been blown
out, an illusion created by the goggles. As he neared the stone and
timber lodge more details emerged. He could see the curved aluminum
handles on the glass doors. Curtains, lamps and other minutiae
stood out in the rows of darkened windows.

Grateful that he had yet to come face to face
with any of the walking
demonios
, he silently pushed ahead,
his silenced SCAR at low ready and his head on a swivel. He paced
along the building followed by Maddox, then Tice who swept his M4
towards each new doorway, and then finally Cade bringing up the
rear.

“Fifteen,” Lopez said quietly. The whisper
was picked up clearly by his throat mic. Brown grass crunched under
his boots as he crept between the building and the sidewalk. He
sprinted from cover and snaked his way between the dust covered
parked cars in a combat crouch. He paused between a minivan and an
older model compact to check his watch. “Twelve,” he said, giving
an update of the approximate time the patrol
should
reappear.

Cade paused beside the rear fender of the
compact to survey their six which was clear—so far so good. Their
infil was going as planned—no detection and no
demonios
as
Lopez had taken to calling the Zs.

At a brisk jog, the team crossed East Snow
King Avenue and melted into the two-story glass and brick canyon of
the business district. They worked their way north following Cache
Drive for five blocks, using shadowy doorways and alleys for
concealment. Then with two blocks to go to target, Lopez signaled
for them to hold up. The intense green numbers on his watch read
20:00
— “Five minutes,” he called out.

“We are in the window Lopez... it’s your
call,” Cade proffered.

That the captain had chosen him to take point
puffed his ego a bit. He nodded and motioned a go with his hand.
The team crossed the street in a noiseless push and one by one
cleared the corner and disappeared behind the firehouse.

The men formed up in the shadows next to a
pitted and dented steel door, their backs pressed to the brick
wall.

Several cars and trucks were nosed in behind
the firehouse. On one wall hung a basketball hoop, its tattered net
twitching in the breeze.

“Maddox,” Lopez whispered.

The other operator, already anticipating this
task, came forward with his lock pick gun in hand.

Lopez, looking like a futuristic robot in the
green glow, nodded as Maddox kneeled, propped his SCAR next to the
door and went to work on the lock.

“Patrol,” Lopez said into his throat mic as
the low geared whine of the approaching Humvee reached his ears.
Out of sight and two blocks away from their position, the vehicle
moved slowly down Cache Drive, past the city square and the Silver
Dollar Cowboy Bar, then turned away just as it had multiple times
without fail over the last seven-plus hours.

A soft click sounded and Maddox flashed the
team a green hued thumbs up.

Cade stepped in front of the door. “I’m
entry, then Lopez... then Maddox. Tice, you’ve got our six.”

After a trio of “
Copy that’s
” Cade
eased the door open.

***

Silver Dollar Cowboy Bar - 10:05 p.m.

Lucas Brother stared intensely at the
conscript and shook his head. “What do you mean he blindsided
you?”

“The black dude... I haven’t seen him before.
He sucker punched me... out of nowhere,” the man replied with a
nasal twang. “That’s all.”

“That’s all? That’s all that you’ve got to
say for yourself? You had to have gotten
one
lick in,” the
six-foot-five giant said incredulously. “You’re a
chicken shit
pussy
Paul. Where the
fuck
was I when this
happened?”