Deadlocked 3 Page 5

  "Where'd all these camps spring up from? Huh?" asked Hero. "They just magically pop into being? Is it some Jellystone fucking miracle out there? Where'd the camps come from?"

  Reagan was slow to answer. "They've been there for years."

  "What kind of camps are they?" I envisioned simple tents, like a refugee scene from some third world country, but when he said they'd been there for years the picture I imagined changed.

  Hero answered for Reagan, "Big ass, empty fucking prisons. I'm right, ain't I?"

  Reagan nodded and continued to walk away from us.

  Hero joyously pumped his fist and then pointed at the back of Reagan's head. "See, told ya. I fucking knew it. Man, this shit's barely even a secret. They've been setting this up for decades."

  "So you've got empty prisons built around the city?" I asked. "That's where people are being taken?" I hurried to catch up with Reagan as he walked briskly south.

  "We're doing what has to be done," said the old man.

  "That's not the point," I said. "I'm not talking about what your team's doing. Why'd they build the prisons in the first place? Why are there plastic coffins ready and waiting to be delivered into the city? Sounds to me like Hero's on to something here. Sounds to me like you planned this."

  "Damn straight," said Hero. "They've been looking forward to this forever. Time to kill the niggers and the white trash." He turned to me and patted my back. "No offense, bro."

  "What's it matter why they were ready for it?" asked Reagan. "We should just be glad they were."

  "That's easy for you to say, Pops," said Hero. "You ain't the one waiting in line to get gassed."

  I expected Reagan to tell Hero the truth about his own impending death, but the old Captain stayed silent and continued to march on. I felt a little bad for him as Hero continued his assault.

  "These white bread mother fuckers been waiting for this. They've been waiting for it. Biding their time and dreaming of the day when they could wipe us all out. They'll take their families and build a new America, all pasty white like fucking Elmer's glue and shit. I bet his family's doing just fine. Sitting in some grand ass estate, waiting for the slaves to be delivered from the city to plow his fields."

  Reagan turned with explosive intent. Hero and I didn't have time to react to his sudden action and we both cried out as the old man attacked. He pulled Hero's shotgun away and threw it to the side. Then he pressed his forearm against the young black man's throat and I saw the glint of steel flash between them. There was a knife in his hand. He'd cut the glove of his hazmat suit and now his uncovered hand pressed through the hole with a knife at Hero's throat.

  "Shoot him," said Hero. "Shoot this mother fucker."

  The Captain put his right leg between Hero's and then dragged his victim to the ground. They squirmed on the lawn of a vacant house and Reagan's superior fighting skills became quickly apparent. His blade shined in the afternoon sun as it pressed against Hero's flesh.

  "Let him go," I said meekly.

  "Listen up, my friend," said Reagan to Hero. His voice hissed through his tightly clenched jaw. "My son, my black, adopted son, died protecting his mother two days ago in this city. He died and came back as a fucking zombie. Do you hear me?"

  "Let him go, Reagan." I pressed the barrel of my pistol against the back of the Captain's head.

  "I listened to the whole thing happen on my phone right before the cell towers went down. Do you know who found them?" He pressed the knife harder against Hero.

  "Who?" asked the frightened young man on the dirt.

  "I did. I had to be the one to put a bullet through my boy's head. Now, if you think I'm going to put up with listening to you accuse me of knowing this was going to happen, well my friend, we're going to have problems. Are we clear?"

  "Yes," said Hero.

  "Are we clear?"

  "Yes sir."

  Reagan hopped up from his squatted position and looked at me. His grimace turned to a sudden, comical smile as he flipped the knife around and offered me the hilt. I backed away with the gun still pointed at him.

  "Take it," he said. "I've been meaning to give it to you all afternoon."

  "Drop it," I said. He terrified me and I didn't dare go near him. My gun trembled and I grabbed it with both hands to steady it.

  "What the fuck?" asked Hero as he got up. "Didn't you pat this guy down? You just let him carry around a knife like that?"

  Reagan let the simple knife fall to the ground. It was a double-sided blade, about four inches long, with a black, rubber hilt that bounced when it hit the dirt. Hero scooped it up quickly.

  "He's not the smartest turd in the toilet," said Reagan.

  CHAPTER SIX - CLEAR THE CORNERS

  We made Reagan take off his hazmat suit, which left him in a pair of thin sweats and a white undershirt. His fragile appearance in his ratty undergarments belied his abilities. This old dog bit a hell of a lot more than he barked.

  15th Avenue wasn't far and we knew there would be a military presence in that area. Hero and Reagan stayed in the alley as I snuck between a pair of brick homes and peered into the street. I didn't have my mask anymore, but I still had the white suit to help me blend in if necessary.

  I could hear trucks moving nearby, but I didn't see them along the avenue. Men from Bravo Unit were working to my left, about fifty yards away, but they were focused on the houses and I waited for them to enter one. Once they were out of sight I waved at Hero and Reagan to follow. We ran across the street, I was in front with Hero in back and Reagan sauntering between.

  "This is stupid," said Reagan as we moved across the street. "Nothing past here's been cleared. We're headed into a dangerous area."

  "It's been cleared," said Hero. "After the evacuation they sent guys in full body armor up and down the streets. They told us all to get inside and then wiped out anything that moved."

  "That was the Strike Team. They weren't here to fully clear. That was just an initial assault. Streets only. Do me a favor and clear the corners before you move past them."

  "What?" I asked.

  "Before you go running out around a corner, just do me a favor and check first. Clear the corners."

  "All right," I said. "We're not planning on going in too many places, so it should be fine."

  "Just do as I ask."

  "So what group were you in?" asked Hero.

  "Bravo. We're the final clean up unit before the bombing."

  "Bombing?" I said. "If they're planning on bombing the place, why clean it out first?"

  "Not everything is getting torched. Certain high rises around the city are condemned. We secured the perimeters and locked up anything that was left inside. The areas with the red marks on the doors are going to be taken out from above."

  "Like downtown?" asked Hero. "All those office buildings?"

  "No," said Reagan. "The developments, like the Baylor Projects up north."

  "Oh, I get it," said Hero. "Where all the poor folks live." He shook his head in disgust. "Fucking pieces of shit, man. I swear."

  "The buildings were evacuated first. Alpha had a squad out front of each building announcing the evacuation for an hour," said Reagan.

  "Yeah, sure, cause us black folks love to come running out to do what the police say. That's pretty much what we live for." Hero shook his head and spat. "Dumb ass. How many folks you think were scared up there, hiding in their homes, waiting for you to leave? You signed their fucking death warrant."

  "It's not our fault if they chose to stay. We tried our best."

  "I'd bet good money you spent all the time in the world clearing out the precious high rises downtown. Didn't you?" asked Hero. "You didn't stand outside of them, screaming at folks to run. I bet those buildings ain't getting bombed."

  "That's a different scenario," said Reagan.

  "Oh yeah? How so? Is it different because they're owned by wealthy folk? Or is it different cause no fucking families, with little kids, are hiding in them? You're willing t
o bomb people's houses, but not the office buildings. You had to make sure the office buildings stayed nice and pretty. Sounds like you guys have your priorities all jacked up."

  "Next time you organize a massive, country-wide bioterrorism clean up, go ahead and let me know so we can compare notes."

  "When are the bombings supposed to start?" I asked.

  "Tomorrow morning. Why?"

  I grinded my teeth and quickened my pace. "I've got friends back there at the salvage yard, near the Baylor Projects."

  "Sorry to hear that," said Reagan.

  "Don't worry, I'll get them out of here before the morning."

  He didn't respond and we stayed silent for the next several minutes as we entered a commercial section of the city. There was a shopping mall separating us from 13th Avenue and we had to climb a wooden fence to get into the alley that ran around the back.

  "We should grab some food in the mall," said Hero. "I'm starving."

  "Stay away from the malls," said Reagan. "They're packed."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "People flocked to the malls when this all started. I don't know why, but thousands of people thought it would be a good idea to hide in shopping malls."

  Hero and I both said, "Dawn of the Dead," at nearly the same time.

  "What's that?" asked Reagan.

  "A movie from a few years ago," I said. "About a group of people that hide out in a mall during a zombie outbreak."

  "A few years ago?" asked Hero as if I'd offended him. "Fuck that, man. The real movie came out way back in the seventies. The new one's bullshit."

  "I think I remember that," said Reagan. "It was by the guy that did the other one, Night of the Living Dead."

  "George Romero," said Hero with reverence.

  "What, are you some sort of horror aficionado?" I asked.

  "I like a good horror flick, no doubt, but it's my brother that's a freak with it. He's nuts about that shit."

  "Sounds like I'd get along with him," I said.

  "You probably would, man. He's into all sorts of weird stuff. He even listens to white boy music."

  "Oh yeah? Like what?"

  "Heavy metal and shit like that. Pisses me off man. I hate that garbage."

  "I don't believe it," said Reagan as he shook his head and gave a bemused smirk.

  "What?" I asked.

  "You and I actually agree on something," he said as he looked at Hero. "Heavy metal is horrible. You can't understand what they're saying. It's just a bunch of noise."

  "Exactly," said Hero.

  "Listen to the Odd Couple here, finally agreeing on something," I said. "It's a shame you're both so wrong about it though."

  "Are you a fan of that shit?" asked Hero.

  "Hell yeah. Heavy Metal's awesome."

  Both Hero and Reagan groaned at me and then a third growl joined them. We all stopped and looked around to see where the noise had come from.

  "You heard that too?" asked Hero.

  "Yeah," I said. "I don't know where it is though."

  A dumpster further up the alley jerked to the side and I saw a hand flop down to the pavement from behind it. There was a bulbous corpse hidden beside the large container and it slid out into the alley as we watched. The creature's legs were mangled, as if they'd been eaten, and I could see part of his left femur as he pulled himself along. Flies buzzed around his eyes and drooping jaw. Air escaped its throat in a guttural moan. Black ooze billowed out of its side as the zombie's skin grinded against broken glass in the alley.

  "Nasty." Hero succinctly encapsulated my feelings as he cringed at the sight of our new obstacle.

  "If we hurry we can get around it." I moved to the side, next to the wooden fence, and started to walk quickly by.

  "Let's just cap it," said Hero.

  "I don't want to risk the noise. Besides, there's plenty of room. It's moving slow."

  I went first, with Reagan close behind, but the creature was more agile than I'd expected. It covered a lot of ground and Hero was nervous to follow. The corner of the building was right behind me when I turned to tell Hero to hurry.

  "Clear the corner," said Reagan as he walked toward me. He looked at me as if I'd made yet another dumb mistake, but his expression changed to sudden shock. My mind registered his alarm, but there was no time to defend myself from the zombie that latched on to my back from around the side of the building.

  Its hands clasped my shoulder and pulled at me. I heard the air escape its lungs as the zombie's mouth opened beside my neck. Spittle soaked the skin of my shoulder as the monster tried to sink its teeth in.

  Reagan reacted before I could. I felt his arm slide across the back of my neck. The teeth that had touched my skin retreated. The creature's grip on my shoulder was pulled away and I stumbled until it lost its hold.

  "Fuck," said Reagan as the zombie writhed beneath him. The inner part of his right arm had come between my shoulder and the zombie's teeth, and he paid the price for interfering. My attacker had a tight grip on Reagan's arm and bit into his flesh with ease. Bright red blood exploded onto the zombie's face as the Captain pushed it to the ground. Reagan ripped his arm out of the zombie's maw and then grabbed onto either side of its head.

  One quick twist later and the zombie's neck was broken.

  I stared down at the creature that almost killed me and the man that saved my life with an equal amount of fear. Reagan straddled the rotted corpse and I noticed that the creature's face was riddled with sores. It was as if its skin had been burned by acid.

  Hero kicked the fat zombie that he had been trying to move past and ran to meet us. We helped Reagan up and I saw the extent of his wound. Blood surged out of his forearm and down his hand. It streamed off the tip of his middle finger as we walked.

  "And that," he said as we pulled him along, "is why you clear the fucking corners."

  CHAPTER SEVEN - KILLING KIDS

  There'd been a massacre in the shopping mall. The set of four glass doors on the side of the building were shattered and trails of blood led out like a macabre red carpet. Corpses were strewn around the parking lot and the buzz of flies was deafening as we approached.

  I made sure to check the corner before we passed in front of the broken doors. The hallway of the mall was dark, but I could see the havoc that had been wreaked inside. I wondered what could have caused so much damage as my foot crunched the broken glass. All of the shattered fragments of the door had been blown outward and there was a fine white powder covering everything. There were several tracks of footprints leading in and out of the powder as if people had been traipsing through it.

  "Looks like a bomb went off here," I said.

  "Lots of bombs exploded after the power went off," said Hero. "There were planes dropping bombs and fuckers in black armor rolling down the street plugging anything that moved."

  "They blew out the bridges," I said. "I was right under one of them."

  "That was part of the Strike Team," said Reagan. He dismissed the conversation with a wave and headed to the mall's entrance. "Let's go in here. I need to find something to wrap my arm up with."

  The Captain went in first. Blood cascaded down his arm as he passed and Hero looked at me in concern. We let the old man walk a few yards into the mall and then Hero started to whisper to me.

  "We should ditch him. He got bit. He's going to turn into a zombie."

  "I don't know," I said. "He knows where we're headed."

  "So? We can go grab my bro and your mom and then get the fuck out of town."

  I watched Reagan as he walked through the hallway. He left a trail of footsteps and blood drops through the fine white powder. He had his left thumb pressed tightly against his inner elbow to help stem the flow of blood. His wound was bad, but it barely slowed him down.

  "I can't just leave him. He saved my life."

  Hero gave me a queer glance. "What? He'll kill us the first chance he gets. You know that."

  "I don't think so. He could have k
illed both of us by now if he wanted to. He almost killed you twice already and we've barely known you for half a fucking hour. And if he wanted me dead, he would've let that zombie take me out." I looked at him and shrugged. "I can't leave him yet. I owe him my life. If you want to skip out I'd understand."

  It looked like he considered it for a moment, but then smiled and slapped me on the back. "Naw, bro. I got your back. Let's just agree that if the old man starts wigging out, we'll pop him. Deal?"

  "Deal."

  We followed Reagan into a tuxedo shop as he searched for something to dress his wound with. He had his arm held out straight, slightly above chest level, and squeezed his thumb against it when he looked at us in exasperation. "Are you going to help me or what?"

  For some reason, the thought of him needing our help hadn't occurred to me. "Sorry. What do you need?"

  "Try to find some scissors."

  The front of the small shop had been destroyed by whatever bomb went off in the mall, but the sales counter was relatively undamaged. Hero went into the back and I started to scavenge through the miscellaneous items under the counter.

  "Got lots of pens, measuring tape, some rubber bands…"

  "What type?" asked Reagan.

  I picked up one of the myriad rubber bands and showed it to him. He shook his head and asked me to find a thicker one. Hero came out of the back room with a large pair of scissors and looked wary to offer them to the old man.

  "Great," said Reagan. "Start cutting up one of those shirts. Make a few long strips, about three inches wide." I found a few thicker rubber bands and held them up for Reagan to see. "Those'll work. Give them here." He reached out to take them with his left hand, releasing the pressure on his vein. Blood started to rush out of his arm again. He swiftly slid the rubber band onto his wrist, twisted it, and then looped it back over again to form a tighter bind. He took a few deep breaths before sliding the band up over his thick forearm. The rubber scraped against his open wound and he cringed as the twisting band tore at his flesh, but this was the best way he could ensure the band would be tight enough around his elbow.