Dead Team Alpha: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (4 page)

Stanford just shrugs.

Turning onto Broadway, the two cousins see people making their way onto what was once the University of Colorado campus, but now serves as the Team barracks and command center.

“
I still don’t know why the hurry for the Trials,” Stanford says. “Moving up the schedule is a bit weird, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Val says. “Aunt Maura didn’t say anything to you?”

“Dear old mumsy hasn’t said a word to me since we got back from the last run down in D-town,” Stanford says. “She wasn’t very happy about that stunt I pulled.”

“You could have burned down all of Sector Five,” Val replies. “She had reason to be unhappy.”

“But I killed what, like a hundred Zs at once?” Stanford asks. “Led them into that building, using myself as fucking bait, then locked the doors and lit a match.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t a good idea,” Val says. “But if sparks had
spread, then it would have been a disaster.”

“Woulda, coulda, shoulda,” Stanford shrugs. “Whatcha gonna do?”

“I’m gonna break my dick off in your ass, faggot,” a short, thick man says as he comes running up behind the two. “Then make you beg for more.”

“Anyone that is subjected to your tiny whang will beg for more,” Stanford says. “They’ll beg for
something
at least.”

“Fuck you, Lee,” the man grins.

“Right back at you, Cole,” Stanford smiles and gives the man a high five.

“Hey, Val,” Coleman Wright says. “
You ain’t lettin’ this fucker distract you, are ya?”

“Please,” Val says. “I’ve been ignoring this shit since we were born.”

A good ten years older than the cousins, Coleman Wright walks next to them, shirtless so the ropy muscles, and the pink scars that crisscross his dark brown skin, are on display for everyone. A sheen of sweat covers his chest and he causally wipes it away, flicking the sweat to the ground.

“Dude,” Val says. “Yuck.”

“Oh, did I get some on ya?” Cole asks then grabs her up in a bear hug.

“Fuck you, Coleman!” Val shouts
just before head-butting the man.

“Ow! Jesus, Val,” Cole grunts as he drops her. “You gotta learn the difference between play and for realsies.”

“You gotta stop getting your sweat on me,” Val says.

“Come on,” Cole winks.
“You like it. What do you say later tonight we see how much you like it?”

“No,” Val says.

“Come on,” Cole pleads. “Remember that one New Year’s? You telling me that didn’t work for you?”

Val
rolls her eyes. “Answer is still no. I’m with Hamish.”

“Terlington?” Cole laughs. “Doctor Boring?”

Val shrugs.

“The lady said no, Cole,” Stanford says. “But I’m up for some sweating.”

“Jesus, Ford,” Cole says. “You are such a slut.”

“
You’re the second person to tell me that this morning,” Stanford smiles.

As they get closer
, Cole starts winking and pointing at the young women in the crowd that are filtering into the building once known as Carlson Gymnasium. The ghost of the name can still be seen up over the door. Most of the young women frown and look away, but some smile wide, glad for the attention of the Team Leader of Denver Team Beta Two.

“Who’s the slut now?” Stanford says,
laughing at Coleman’s antics.

“Can’t be a slut if I don’t get any,” Cole says. “I’m good for a laugh, but not for a shag.”

“Ahhh, poor baby,” Val says. “Maybe I will give you a pity fuck later.”

“I’ll take all the pity you want to give,” Cole laughs.

The crowd is thick at the entrance and the three have to push their way through, not bothering to say sorry or excuse me since as soon as they are recognized folks move out of their way. The three Mates’ moods and attitudes quickly change from smart-ass to straight edge. No more sexual banter or sarcastic insults. They are now inside the Gym and a Team Mate doesn’t fuck around inside the Gym.

“Good morning,” a woman says. Average height, late-fifties, salt and pepper hair tied up in a tight bun, crisp dark blue uniform with the
nametag “Commander Lee” sewn over her left breast. “Stanford, I’m pleased you made it on time and not smelling of vomit.”

“I do have standards,” Stanford says. “You’re looking very butch this morning, Mother. I hope that doesn’t mean you’re promoting only the dykes into DTA.”

Commander Lee sighs heavily. “Why do you have to say things like that? You only reinforce old world bigotry by perpetuating slurs like that.”

“Cole called me a faggot outside,” Stanford says.

“Hey!” Cole snaps, looking at the commander with alarm. “It was a joke, sir! He knows it was a joke! Tell her, Ford!”

“I am well aware o
f your sense of humor, TL Wright,” Commander Lee says. “However crude it may be, and however much I believe it undermines your command as a TL, it is still obviously humor. My son’s quips and barbs? Not so funny.”

“
Tough room,” Stanford says.

“Hello, Val,” Commander Lee smiles. “Are you ready for the trials?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” Val says, not daring to be anything but formal with the commanding officer even if she is her aunt.

“Good,” Commander Lee says and looks about the crowd as
people take seats in the old wooden bleachers. “And my brother isn’t here, I see. God forbid Collin Baptiste is bothered with anything to do with family.”

“Dad’s working through our food rations,” Val says. “One sip at a time.”

“Good Lord,” Commander Lee says then looks at her son. “At least you can never be the biggest disappointment in the family.” With that said, she nods at them all, turns on her heel and walks her way to a small podium set off to the side of the Gym.

“We’ll see about that!” Stanford calls after her. “The day has just started!”

“What the fuck did you two do in your past lives?” Cole asks as they walk over to the other candidates standing close to a large mat in the center of the Gym floor. “You each have a peach of a parent.”

“The
Baptistes fell apart after Granny G died,” Val says. “I think that woman was all that kept the family together. Once she passed, they all sorta lost their way.”

“No shit,” Stanford says. “I do miss that old woman. She used to tell me stories about the convoy trip across the country to the Stronghold. We live in Paradise compared to that.”

“Your great grandmother was something, that’s true,” Coleman nods. “She died at what? Ninety-five?”

“
She was older than that that,” Val answers. “She was a kid when Z-Day hit and that was almost a hundred years ago.”

“Bullshit,” Cole says. “No one lives that long.”

“Doesn’t matter. Shut up,” Stanford says. “Party’s getting started.”

The crowd takes their seats while the eight candidates around the mat snap to attention as Commander Lee steps behind the podium and gives a short nod.

“Please lower your heads for the Remembrance,” she says.

The whole room goes silent and every head is lowered instantly.

“We always remember,” Commander Lee says in a strong and confident voice that carries to every ear. “The past is where we came from, but not who we are. Today we live. We always remember.”

“We always remember,” the entire Gym says.

“There was weakness once, but not anymore. Today we live. We always remember,” Commander Lee continues.

“We always remember.”

“Anger is not hatred, violence is not evil,” she says. “This we have learned because today we live. We always remember.”

“We always remember.”

“You must work for security and die for safety. This is truth because today we live. We always remember.”

“We always remember.”

“No matter what, we do what is right, since every person counts and today we live. We always remember.”

“We always remember.”

“We are a community, a society, a family. One and all we are together. That is why today we live and we always remember.”

“We always remember.”

“And why do we always remember?”

“Because every person counts.”

“Yes, every person counts.”

“Every person counts.”

“We always remember.”

“We always remember.”

There is silence for exactly five seconds, then everyone raises their heads and starts cheering and clapping.

Commander Lee lifts her hands and the Gym quiets down. “As you know, we lost two mates from Denver Team Alpha last week.”

“We always remember,” the crowd says.

“That we do,” Commander Lee responds. “As a military society we have sworn to protect any and all that seek refuge within our walls. In order to do
that, we must have the strength of the Teams at full. We have many fine candidates ready to step into roles on Denver Team Betas One and Two, but, as you can see, only eight qualify to move up into the vacated slots on Denver Team Alpha.”

“Long live Dead Team Alpha!”

“Long live DTA!”

“We are alive today because of DTA!”

“Every person counts!”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Commander Lee says as she holds her hands out to silence the enthusiastic members of the crowd. “I thank you for that tribute.”

She looks at the eight candidates, making sure she holds eye contact with each one for no more and no less than three seconds.

“I do not need to introduce them since we all know each other,” Commander Lee says. “But I will say that two of the candidates are part of my family. Nothing new since we are a community of only three thousand and many Commanders over the decades have had to deal with the same situation. This is why the Commander does not make the final decision. It is left to the Team Mates to decide who will join them.”

As soon as she says that, eight men and women come into the Gym from a side door. Denver Team Alpha. Dead Team Alpha. DTA. They take positions off to the side and stand at attention.

The crowd gets to their feet and salutes, waiting until the salutes are returned by DTA before sitting back down.

“Denver Team Alpha has been given the unfortunate, yet accurate, nickname of Dead Team Alpha,” Commander Lee says. “More Mates from DTA have died than from any of the other Teams combined. They are our front line defense, our strike force, and our best refugee retrieval unit.”

“Every person counts!” the crowd yells.

“Every person counts,” Commander Lee says. “Of the eight candidates, two will move into DTA while the rest will take on new roles in their respective Teams or be assigned to a new Team. The two chosen will need to show not just that they are physically strong, but also mentally and emotionally strong. This is why we have the Trials. Today all eight candidates will be beaten and humiliated. Those left standing will be the ones the DTA picks from. On this day, and this day alone, only two people will count.”

The Gym is silent.

“I give the floor to Team Leader Margaret Lafferty,” Commander Lee says, nodding at a tall, broad shouldered woman stepping from the row of DTA members. “From here on, until the two have been chosen, TL Lafferty is the law. What she says goes. Any that argues, whether candidates or spectators, will be removed from the Gym. There is no argument.”

“Only the TL
has the say,” the crowd says.

“Rightly so,” Commander Lee says. “Let’s begin.”

“Candidates!” TL Lafferty shouts. “You will drop and give me infinity push-ups. I will tell you when to stop, if ever. The first to fail will get off their worthless faces and leave without argument. Understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” the candidates shout.

“Then what the fuck are you waiting for?” she roars. “Fucking drop and give me forever!”

As one, eight men and women fall to the floor and begin
with their arms out to the side, and their legs and backs straight, as if a line had been drawn from their shoulders to their heels. The movements begin in unison, but soon some fall behind while others seem to move faster and faster with each grunt and push. Sweat beads, drips, pools.

The crowd watches in silence, enduring the monotony of movements with rapt attention while DTA Mates begin to circle the candidates. Without a word, not even a nod, TL Lafferty gives the order and the Mates move in on their distracted victims.

Boots come down on backs hard, not to add weight, but to deliver brutal, spine cracking blows. The candidates don’t cry out, well aware that the violence was inevitable, having all witnessed the trials since they were small children. Instead, they push on and on, swallowing the torture with each stomp.

Thirty
minutes, then forty, fifty, a full hour goes by before the first candidate fails, unable to keep up the pace while enduring the endless torture of boot to back. The man lies there for a few seconds, and then painfully gets to his feet. He stumbles to the side, straightens himself and his uniform, and walks proudly out of the Gym, his left leg trailing slightly as he winces with each step. The crowd silently gets to its feet as he leaves, and then promptly sits back down.