Insurgent Z: A Zombie Novel (5 page)

“It’s one of those days, and it isn’t even lunch time. What else you got going on?”

“Nothing really, just have to finish some reports. Ricks and Sheraton are out on patrol. I heard you have a meeting with the mayor.”

“Yeah, can’t wait for that. Well, if you want, you can take off the rest of the day since there isn’t much going on.”

“Really? That’d be great. Skylar will be happy with that. She wants to look at dining room sets.”

“The joys of getting married. Seriously, take off once you’re done. Just have your phone on in case I need to reach you.”

“Thanks, boss. Appreciate it.” Troy smiled, and Mason returned it.

Mason turned the door handle to the large office at the end of the hall and entered. His office was plain, with only a few framed awards and certificates on the wall. On his desk, next to a stack of manila folders, stood the single picture—a young boy sitting in the lap of a goofy looking Easter Bunny. Mason smiled when he saw it, and the boy’s smile matched his. He sat in the cool leather chair and went to work, sorting through the various reports on his desk. All were for simple offenses: DWI while operating a boat, DWI First Offense while operating a car, speeding, public intoxication, and such. He went through them all, reading the details, and making sure his officers had followed proper procedure. Everything looked to be in order.

“Going to get lunch, Sheriff. What you want?”

Mason was so focused on the reports he didn’t hear Ruth enter the office. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten past eleven.
Time flies when you’re having fun
, he thought.

“Not sure, Ruth. Where you headed?”

“Just going to the diner across the street. Not many choices around here anyway.”

“This is true. Pick me up a shrimp po’boy, and I’ll pay you back?”

“Sure thing, hon’. Anything else you want with it?”

“Nah, that should be good. Well, if you see Rosella there, can you tell her I said hello.”

“Back when I was your age, we preferred our men not to be such pussies.” Ruth glared at him.

“I know, Ruth. I plan to ask her out soon, but can you just do me a favor and tell her hello? Maybe plant the seed in her mind that I might be interested.”

“I wish someone would plant the seed in me. It’s been a while.”

“Ruth, you are going to make me lose my appetite.”

“I’ll be back in a jiff, Sheriff.” She turned and walked down the hall, leaving him to the dwindling stack of reports.

His interest was actually piqued at one report involving a young man pissing on the side of a building, when Mayor Cotton Woods strutted into the room. He was dressed gallantly in a seersucker suit, complete with a wooden walking cane that he didn’t really need. Beads of sweat ran down the sides of the mayor’s face, and he d
abb
ed at them with a white cloth.

Surprised, Mason glanced at the clock and saw it was 11:30. The mayor was early for the meeting.

“Mr. Mayor, please sit down. I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour.”

“Thank you, Mason,” Cotton said, sitting in one of the chairs that faced the desk. The walking stick rested against his knee. “I’m a bit early, but I wanted to chat with you before our guest arrives.”

“Oh? I didn’t know anyone else would be joining us.”

“Yes, a representative from the Army will be here.”

“What for? The war games aren’t supposed to start for another six months. Me and the deputies have stayed out of their business just like we agreed.”

“Because, Mason, the Army has already begun a secret project sanctioned by the state. I’ve given them permission to put up a guard station on the highway that leads to town. They will be conducting research and training at Paradis. Working with the lifers.”

“Experiments on prisoners?”

“Well, the prisoners signed consent forms, I understand. Most might as well, it’s not like they’re getting out of Paradis ever, so they may as well make themselves useful.”

“Most of the men there can’t even read.”

“Mason, ever since you have arrived in Botte, you haven’t been afraid to shake things up. I’m asking, begging you, just to back off and let them do what they want. They are giving the town a huge amount of money, money that will be reflected in your annual bonus, and the bonuses of your staff. Your feelings on the military have been well documented, but I’m asking you, as a favor, to not poke around where you don’t need to.”

“Mayor, when you talk like that it makes me think I
should
poke around. I thought the temporary base the Army built last month looked strange. I wasn’t expecting such a large facility.”

Cotton removed an envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on Mason’s desk. Mason opened it and dozens of Ben Franklin’s stared back at him.

“There is ten thousand dollars in that envelope for you to do with what you please. That’s just the beginning.”

Mason felt the thickness of the stacked envelope in his hands. Though he prided himself on playing things by the book, the thought of the money—and what it could do for him—overrode his sense of commitment to the job. For a moment, he felt bad that he considered taking the hush money so quickly, but, considering his current situation, he really had no choice but to accept. It appeared Cotton was going to do what he wanted anyway. Mason may as well profit from the scenario as well.

“So, the Army won’t be doing war simulations this fall, but will be testing inmates at Paradis right now?”

“Yes, and you won’t have to worry with the town being overrun by the enlisted men. Though they might come into town to eat, or just get away on their time off. I’m really not sure, but our guest will be able to answer those questions.”

“They were out of shrimp, so I got you catfish—oh, hi, Mayor Cotton!” Ruth said, surprised to see him. “I thought you weren’t coming ’til noon?”

“Just had a slight change of plans, Ruth. I hope all is going well with you. We’re expecting one more, so just send him in when he arrives.”

“No problem,” Ruth said, placing the wrapped sandwich on Mason’s desk and leaving the room.

“Sorry, Mayor, but I’m hungry, so I’m going to have to eat in front of you.”

“Go ahead, Sheriff. How’ve things been?”

“Can’t complain. Just keeping up with the locals and the simple trouble they seem to love getting into. We could also really use a smaller patrol boat. The one we have is just too hard to navigate through the marshes and swamps.”

“Well, after the Army finishes with whatever the hell they are doing, maybe we can get two boats.”

The intercom crackled on Mason’s office phone as Ruth’s voice filled the room.
Gentlemen, there is a man to see you.

“Please send him in, Ruth,” Mason said. Heavy boots stomped on the wooden floor, growing louder and louder with each footfall. He imagined it would be the typical military representative—the ones used to smooth-talk any nosey public officials into complying with whatever plan they had concocted. Just who stepped into the office made Mason almost choke on his lunch.

The man stood tall, as if at attention. His jawline was sharp, and his eyes a soft brown that seemed intense and battle-tested. His hair was perfectly groomed and the perfect shade of silver gray.

“Ah, welcome. Sheriff Mason, I’d like to introduce you to—”

“Hart,” Mason said, “Jonathan fucking Hart.” He felt his pulse race and his hands shake uncontrollably.

“Mason!” Cotton rattled in his chair. “You know the Colonel?”

“Do I know this man?” Mason said, rising to his feet. “Yes, I do. This is the man who fucked my entire career. This is the man who sacrificed two of my friends, and, when he found out they died, just shrugged and went about his business. So yes, I know exactly who this man is.”

“Sheriff, you are out of line,” Cotton said.

“No, Mayor, it’s all right. The Sheriff has every right to feel the way he does,” Hart said. His voice sounded like a cement mixer full of gravel. He took the empty chair next to the mayor.

“I’ve been haunted by what you put me through every day and night since I left Iraq. Now you think you can just stroll into my town and do whatever you want because we are some small Podunk off in the middle of nowhere? Not on my watch, pal.”

Cotton looked dumbfounded at Mason. The sheriff was poised, ready to attack.

“Colonel Hart, can you please give us a moment in private? There is coffee in the break room a few doors down. Help yourself. I’ll call for you in a minute.”

“Not a problem,” Hart said, rising. He stared at Mason who returned the icy glare. Hart closed the door behind him, and the footsteps grew softer until the sound could no longer be heard.

“Christ, Mason! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Me? Did you not hear what I said? What he did?”

“Mason, son, that was years ago, and just like you were following orders, so was he.” 

Mason paused, stung by the words. The mayor, for once, was right. Hart had probably just been following orders, but in the end, Mason was left to deal with years of misery and regret, while Hart was obviously promoted and decorated. It wasn’t fair, but in the game of politics and war, what was? Mason felt his heart rate returning to normal and the tension that coursed through his veins like lightning started to wane.

“Sheriff, can you please just play nice this time. Tone it down a bit. Don’t be hostile. Let them do what they came here to do, and then they will leave Botte in a much better place.”

“Fine,” Mason said. “I can play nice, I suppose.”

“Excellent.” The mayor opened the door. “Colonel Hart, you can come back in now.”

Hart’s footsteps slapped against the tile floor. Mason’s heartbeat picked up the pace again. Anger swelled, and though he fought to control it, found himself in a losing battle. Hart appeared in the doorway clutching two cups of coffee. He set one on Mason’s desk, and then took the chair next to Cotton.

“Thought you could use a cup to steady the nerves a bit, soldier,” Hart said, sipping from his own.

“I’m not a soldier anymore. The Army said I was too damaged to return to active duty. Something about watching my friends being murdered did that to me, I suppose.”

“Mason. . .” Cotton said, tensing in his seat.

“It’s all right, Mayor,” Hart said. “Mason has every right to hate me. Luckily, he won’t be working with me or seeing me much, if at all. This is more about the soldiers stationed outside Paradis.”

“Ah yes, the mystery surrounding Paradis. Maybe you can enlighten me as to what is going on there?” Mason sat back in his chair, hoping the sarcasm in his voice made it out. He refused to touch the coffee.

“I’ll tell you as much as I can. With the war on terror taking a turn and biological weapons being introduced to the field of battle, the U.S. military is working on a vaccine that will kill any and all agents of warfare: viruses, bacteria, and prions, anything that can cause disease. We presented a proposal to the governor of your great state to test this vaccine. We have contracted with Paradis, and all prisoners used are on a volunteer basis. These are men serving life sentences or destined for the injection chair anyway. This will give their life a little bit of purpose. So far, things have been going quite well, and we don’t expect any issues to arise. We will be stationed right outside the town, and we have a roadblock set up at the parish line. I can assure you this is for directing military supplies only. All pedestrians will be left alone, and can come and go as they please.”

“So Botte will be the little town to fuck with when you get bored. Is that it?”

“Not at all, Sheriff. I have instructed my men not to leave the base. If any do, it will only be to purchase some supplies we might be short on, and come back. I just wanted to let you know we will be here to suppress any fear or angst in the citizens of this fine American town. We don’t want to be disturbed, and we certainly don’t want to trouble anyone.”

“Well, I hope for the prisoners’ sake that this mission goes off smoother than the last one you and I were involved in.”

“Mason, you’re out of line,” Cotton said. His face turned beet red, and the veins in his neck popped.

“Sheriff, I know you don’t trust the military, and that’s fine, but I have a signed letter from your governor saying I can do what I want. So, please accept my apologies, but I think I have wasted enough time here. Mayor Cotton, you may see me out.”

Cotton glared at Mason as they walked out of the office. Mason never took his eyes off Hart, and he hoped the old Colonel was aware of just how badly he wanted to tear him apart. Mason tossed the envelope on his desk and stared at it. Cotton returned after a few minutes.

“Well, that couldn’t have gone worse.”

“Sure it could have. I could have broken his fucking neck,” Mason said, refusing to look up.

Cotton closed the door and walked to the front of the desk. Mason saw him pick up the envelope of money and hold it out.

“I want you to know that if you take this money, it is an agreement between us that you will stay out of their way. There’ll be more of this, I promise. Don’t think about your personal grudges. Think how good it will be to give your overworked staff a nice pay bump. Y’all deserve it.”