Dead Team Alpha: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (8 page)

“What took
ya, rookie?” Mate Lyle Diaz asks as Val walks into the DTA wing of the Team barracks. He’s seated at a large, round table, picking his fingernails with a knife. “Thought you’d be rip-roaring ready to hang paintings of kittens and rainbows over your new bunk.”

“I’ve been a Mate for four years, Diaz,” Val replies. “I’m no rookie.”

“You’ve been a Beta Mate,” Mate Duster Townsend says as he walks in rubbing a towel over his shorn scalp. The rest of his body is still wet from the shower. And completely naked. “Doesn’t count around here. That’s the cleanup crew, not the real deal.”

Val smirks and gives him a quick look up and down then focuses on his crotch. “I’m not seeing much of a deal in here at the moment.”

“I’m a grower, not a shower,” Duster smiles, giving his dick a quick wiggle. “Just wait a second and I’ll give you a two for one deal that you can’t pass up.”

“Cute,” Val says as she looks about the room. “Which one is mine?”

“Far corner,” Diaz replies, pointing to the last set of bunk beds at the end of the room. “Hawks was here before you so she stowed her crap on the bottom bunk. Looks like you’ll be smelling her farts all night long.”

“I prefer the top,” Val replies, holding up a finger. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wasn’t going to say a thing,” Diaz smiles.

Val lugs her gear over to the far set of bunks and
drops the bags into the corner. She unzips them and pulls out her uniforms and other clothes, carefully laying them across the bunk, getting everything organized before stashing them in the stand up locker up against the wall.

Once she has her clothes stowed, she unzips the second bag and begins to lay out her tactical gear.

Two pairs of heavy boots, steel toed. Three pairs of gloves reinforced with small, steel plates for added impact. Four pairs of goggles, two tinted and two clear. A med kit. Four canteens. A collapsible baton. Six flares. And a tightly rolled, one person tent.

The last item she removes is wrapped in cloth. Carefully, almost with reverence, she unwraps the item to reveal a
leather-sheathed blade almost two feet long.

“TL won’t let you bring any of that,” a voice says from behind her. “Everything comes from the armory before deployment and goes back to the armory after.
No personal field kits. She doesn’t like variables.”

Val looks over her shoulder at
a fresh faced young man. Only an inch taller than Val, he gives her a wide smile, his dimples folding over the sea of freckles that cover his pale skin.

“I’m bringing this,” Val says, patting the blade. “It’s been in my family for generations. It was given to Granny G by the-.”

“The Great El herself,” Mate Bobby Breitenberg finishes for her. “Yeah, Baptiste, we all know the story. Everyone in the Stronghold knows the story. The Great El handed it to a young Granny G just before she walked outside the wall and down to Denver, never to be seen or heard from again.”

“Yeah,” Val says, her face flushing with annoyance and embarrassment. “That’s the story.”

“They say her ghost still haunts Denver,” Diaz calls from the table, now cleaning the fingernails on his other hand. “She watches over the Teams.”

“I hear she’s still alive,” Tiny D says as she comes into the room naked and wet, drying her
arms with a towel. She pulls it away and gives Duster a quick snap on the ass just before he pulls on his boxers.

“Hey, bitch!” Duster yells, twisting around and looking down at his ass. “Fuck,
TD! You broke skin!”

“Couldn’t help myself,” she laughs. “That tight ass just gets me worked up.”

“No way she’s still alive,” Diaz says, ignoring the two naked Team Mates. “She’d be like way over a hundred years old.”

“Everyone said she wasn’t normal,” Tiny D responds, slipping on a tank
top and pulling on her boxers. “Same with those sisters of hers. I hear that when she gave the blade to Granny G she looked the same age as when she arrived. That’s why she left with her sisters. People were getting freaked out.”

“Who
is getting freaked?” Mate Alastair Swanncutt asks as he walks into the room with a crate of bottles in hand. “Other than us, that is, now that I procured us some libations for the evening.”

“I thought TL Lafferty said to lay o
ff the drinking,” Val says. “We’re humping it down the mountain at 0500 after our briefing at 0400.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Alastair grins. “Then I better go put this
tasty beer back. I mean, if we’re humping it at 0500. In fact, we should just turn out the lights and tuck each other in.”

“Maybe TL will read us a bedtime story,” Tiny D smirks.

“I hope the bedbugs don’t bite,” Duster says.

“You need some warm milk?” Alastair asks as he sets the crate down and starts throwing beer bottles at the other Mates. They all catch them with ease. “Or do you prefer
to suckle straight from the teet, Baptiste?”

“Beer!” Junior Hoal shouts as he comes in and intercepts a bottle being tossed to Duster. “Clank! Get in here! Al has beer!”

Clank saunters into the room, moving with more grace than his bulk would seem to allow. “Where’d you get the beer, Al?”

“I have my ways,” Alastair smiles.

“You had to go down on that Stokely chick again, huh?” Diaz laughs. “Man, you can smell that twat a mile away.”

Alastair shrugs. “It takes an educated nose to appreciate a bouquet like that, Diaz.”

“I saw her,” Bobby says as he catches his beer.

“You saw Stokely’s twat?” Alastair asks. “I thought I was the only one saddling up to that bar.”

“No, not her,” Bobby says, popping the flip stopper off the beer. “The Great El.”

The whole room, except for Val, groans.

“Not this again,” Duster says. “Give it a rest, will ya?”

“I did, guys,” Bobby says.

“
I did guys
,” Tiny D mocks. “
Come on guys, I did, I did
.”

“Not possible,” Diaz laughs.

“The woman is long dead, bro,” Clank says. “Just drink your beer.”

Val looks at Bobby, her eyebrows raised. “When?”

“No!” Alastair shouts. “Do not get him started!”

“Is that beer?” Hawks asks as she comes into the room. The whole Team goes quiet, forgetting about Bobby’s claim, and their eyes go from Hawks to Val. “What?”

“Nothing,” Tiny D says, buttoning her uniform.

“Nothing at all,” Duster says as he closes the door to the room.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Val asks, her instincts telling her to bolt.

“Nothing,” Diaz says, standing up.

“Nothing at all,” Alastair grins.

“Oh, shit,” Hawks says as she turns in a circle, noting the body language around her. “So this is when it happens?”

“Come on,” Val says. “We got hazed when we joined the Teams. No need to do it again.”

Clank pulls a couple lengths of
chain out of his locker. Val glances at Bobby and sees he’s now holding two large canvas bags.

“No way,” Val says. “I’m not going in those.”

“Don’t like closed spaces, Mate?” Diaz asks as the Team begins closing in, forcing Val and Hawks into the center of a menacing circle.

“Not a fan, no,” Val says. “So let’s just not and say we did.”

“I’m with Baptiste,” Hawks says. “The TL will be checking in soon.”

“Oh, she’ll be checking, that’s for sure,” Duster laughs.

***

“You didn’t hurt them too much, did you?” TL Lafferty asks as she watches a group of children throwing dirt clods up at the two bags suspended between a couple of aspens. “They need to be ready for duty in the morning.”

“There may have been a nose or two bloodied,” Diaz says. “One of those was Bobby’s.”

“Hawks has a wicked left cross,” Bobby says, leaning against a large boulder
, his hand pressing a rag to his face.

“LET ME OUT!” Val screams from one of the bags. “YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!”

“Claustrophobic,” Tiny D says. “Could be a problem.”

“TL,” Alastair says as he hands the Team Leader a beer. “Saved you one.”

TL Lafferty takes the beer and gives Alastair a grateful nod. She pops it and takes a long swig before shouting up at the bags. “You going to be an issue, Baptiste?”

“Not if you get me out of here!” Val shouts from inside the canvas. “Come on, TL! We’ve been up here for an hour!”
A barrage of dirt clods nails the bag. “Fuck! Stop it!”

“Fifteen minutes,” Diaz says. “Not an hour. Chick is losing her shit.”

“I’m not losing my shit, asshole!” Val yells. “Tell TL, Hawks! It’s been at least a fucking hour!”

There’s no response from the other bag.

“She dead?” Tiny D asks. “Hey, Hawks! You dead?”

There’s a noise from the bag, but it’s hard to hear over the kids shouting and giggling.

“Quiet!” TL Lafferty orders. The kids shut up instantly.

The sou
nd comes again and the Team looks around at each other then starts laughing.

“She’s fucking snoring!” Duster bellows. “Oh, that’s fucking priceless!”

“Get them down,” TL Lafferty says. “One’s asleep and the other’s having a fit. We have a briefing in fifteen.”

“What?” Tiny D asks. “I thought briefing was at 0400?”

“Just got word the 0400 briefing is for something else,” TL Lafferty says. “Don’t ask me what because I’m not saying. Just know we have a long fucking week ahead of us.”

“Full tour then?” Clank asks.

“Yep,” TL Lafferty says. “Commander Lee wants Sector Eight scouted and thinned. Zs are getting thick in there.”

“Fuck,” Alastair says. “I hate
marching to Sector Eight.”

“Everyone does,” TL Lafferty says. “That’s why it’s never properly maintained. DTB’s been slacking.”

“Fucking Betas,” Duster snarls.

“Hey!” Val shouts. “I used to be a Beta! We never fucking slacked!”

“Cut her down and get your asses to the briefing,” TL Lafferty says.

“Yes, sir,” Diaz nods. “Okay, Team, time to let the rookies off the hook.”

***

“We hit Broomfield and then take 121 down to Lakewood,” TL Lafferty says as she points to an area on a large map spread out before the Team.
“As you know, Sector Eight is what remains of a huge residential area.”

“With that old shopping thing at the bottom,” Duster says.

“Bear Valley Center,” Val says, glaring at each Mate in turn.

“Yeah, that,” Duster grins. “That place ain’t too tight for ya, is it Baptiste?”

“Fuck you,” Val says, giving him the finger.

“We have West Yale Avenue down to 285,” TL Lafferty says. “Sheridan on one side and Federal on the other.” She gives Val a withering look. “We’ll hump it over to Colorado Heights University t
hen work our way to Bear Valley. Last reports were those buildings have filled up with Zs.”

“Why do they do that?” Alastair asks.

“Old ways,” Bobby says.

“Old ways,” Tiny D agrees.

“Fucking mindless Zs,” Duster says.

“Why Sector Eight now?” Clank asks.

“Copper,” TL Lafferty replies. “It’s the new initiative. Bear Valley hasn’t been stripped of its copper yet. We take inventory and send our new Runner back with numbers while we hold the shopping center.”

“Who’s the new runner?” Junior asks.

“Don’t know,” TL Lafferty says. “We’ll pick him up at the Bell Tower.”

“What the fuck is all this copper
shit about?” Diaz asks. “Not that I expect an answer.”

“Good, because I ain’t giving one,” TL Lafferty says.
“So that’s Objective One. Objective Two is to get this Team gelling as a complete unit. I know you’ve had your fun hazing the new Mates.”

“We’d have left you two out there all night if we weren’t on duty at ass o’clock,” Diaz says. “Feel lucky, rookies.”

“And no more rookie shit,” TL Lafferty glares. “They’ve cut their teeth in the DTBs. They know Denver, they know the dangers, and they know how to handle themselves. We need to be working on cohesion and not coercion.”

“I don’t think coercion is the right word, TL,” Alastair says.

“Sounds good, though,” Junior replies. “What’s that called?”

“Alliteration,” Bobby says.

“Right, alliteration,” Junior nods.

“You guys done?” TL Lafferty asks. “Or should we just stop the fucking briefing and switch to grammar time.”

“That’s like the line in that song the Rug Munchers sing on Fridays at Cook’s Place,” Duster says. “What’s the name?”

“
Hammer Time
,” Bobby answers. “Liz really gets into that bass line. Mickey ain’t too bad on the mandolin.”