“True Grit is making a decision and standing by it, doing what must be done.”- John Wayne
Malcolm leaned next to the double doors of the Visitor’s center as he took a deep drag off another cigarette and another check of the time.
Any minute now.
No one had uttered a word since the latest shooting and a new chorus of automatic fire echoed the night, dragging on longer. Everyone around him was more perturbed than ever, but Malcolm had all the time he needed to gather his thoughts.
He dwelled on the black mass and the mass insanity. He began pacing the front of the doors as he kept his eyes on the distant sky, waiting for the cavalry.
Both Koreas are ablaze, and so is China by the looks of it. All coinciding with the ‘springtime flu’; secretly a Homicidal Strain of Rabies…How the fuck did we miss this?
The time was now officially twenty-two minutes past nine and they were sitting ducks. Malcolm touched his receiver, “Patch me through to Mendez…”
It took three more minutes before Mendez spoke. “Nelson.”
“Sir?” Malcolm said, “I don’t see the cavalry in the distance. ETA?”
A panicked sigh followed, “Captain, all our transport brigades are tasked to the maximum. Have you separated the civilians?”
“Yes sir. They’ve been squeezed back into the tunnel…they’re starting to change.”
Mendez deflected. “Yea, I’ve been hearing that. You’re authorized to contain them. Over and out.”
So, no ETA then? Fuck you too.
“Hey!” Liam yelled through the open door. “You better be coping out here, because I just had to deal with the civilians demanding to be let out of the tunnel.”
Malcolm flashed a brow. “You speak Korean? I’m impressed, Piper.”
Liam winced at that. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Of course not.” Malcolm pursed his lips. “You need a moniker and I’m happy to provide you one.”
Liam stepped through the doorway and stared Malcolm down. “We could’ve saved Avery! I fucking told you not to pull that trigger!”
Malcolm blinked. “You...told me too late; and there was nothing we could have done. It was a half measure compared to what I should be doing.”
Liam shook his head. “We have no idea what’s really going on…”
“Suppose I am wrong…” Malcolm speculated. “You ever read about the poor bitch who owned a pet chimpanzee?”
“And this has to do with what?”
“VA benefits don’t cover that kind of facial reconstruction.”
Liam smiled. “You ever heard of Doctor Kevorkian?”
“Y…”
Liam boasted. “Of course, you have! You know that ‘mercy killing’ doesn’t hold up in court. How am I supposed to help you with this one?”
“I don’t need your help.” Malcolm retorted.
“SIR!” Clairet burst through the door. “The civies are still agitated!”
“Fuck!” Malcolm shouted. “What’s happening?!”
“They’re still demanding to be let out; they don’t feel safe!”
Liam whispered. “Kinda what I was trying to tell you.”
“Goddammit!” Malcolm adjusted his surgical mask over his mouth and followed Clairet back inside the visitor’s center.
A group of twenty had massed at the mouth and were carelessly standing over charred piles. They shouted and whined as one of Malcolm’s men, probably Johnson, shouted for them to stay back. At least forty rifles were trained at them and still they inched forward.
“JACK! HOLD FIRE! LOWER YOUR WEAPONS NOW!” Malcolm hopped down the flight and stood with his arms raised in the flashlights. He turned around to a screaming man in his late forties that stood before the group. Malcolm took a few seconds to survey the crowd. It was mostly male and primarily consisted of adults. He slowly placed his Crystal back around him as a demonstration of goodwill.
“Help coming!” Malcolm shouted in appeasement.
But the man raved too quicky for Malcolm translate; only the end was intelligible. “…Friends are gone, and my wife is sick!”
“We take wife out! Helicopters come. We take you to America.”
The man’s face was flushed. “America is fascist!”
“America free!”
“NO! You lie!”
Malcolm shook his head. “We no do that! We take out sick and wounded first, then helicopter come back for you!”
The Elder looked behind him. Perplexed by his options, he faced the front again. “I’m going with her!”
“Yes! You see we tell the truth! When helicopter come back, you and others go too!”
“You’ll take all of us!” A voice from the crowd bellowed.
“Room for everybody!” Malcolm kept the lie going. “Everything will be okay! Please, go back!”
The crowd exchanged glances with each other. A particularly young man, who was just a few feet from the older one, was trying to hide a chuckle at Malcolm’s pathetic translation.
In the same span of time as it took for the crowd to gather, they trickled back into the darkened mouth with their flashlights designating the path; finally, the old man was sulking back into the cave.
Malcolm wasted no time leaving the rail as the coldness of his words matched the clamminess of his hands. He looked to the office, which was quartered off since Avery's death. Malcolm thought to take his temperature a third time since the incident.
“JACK! ON ME!” Malcolm bellowed as he made his way out of the entrance. Kenneth Johnson sprinted around his squads and met Malcolm at his left side. It could be seen from the corner of Malcolm’s eye that Johnson was switching his safety on. “You’re gonna switch that off, now.” Malcolm passively commanded.
Johnson was confused. “You want to tell me what the hell all that was...Sir?”
Malcolm broke his demeaning gaze away from Johnson. “That was me fucking up and making promises I know I can’t keep.”
“What did you say?”
“I already told you, promises I can’t keep.” They stepped through the entrance doors; Malcolm began at a light pace. “Too many promises…too many obligations…Gotta pick what’s important...”
Johnson nodded with sucked lips. “Sir…Your being weird again. With all due respect.”
Malcolm halted his pacing and looked back at Johnson. “Tell me something, if you had to go down one road and get eaten alive, or pick the other way and get shot to death, which do you pick?”
Johnson reeled from that. “I don’t like the parameters of this game.”
Malcolm sighed. “It’s a fucking hypothetical. Humor me.”
Johnson kept being coy. “This is like those ‘Marry, Fuck, or Kill’ internet memes. I’d honestly rather kill myself.”
Malcolm cupped his face. “Well let’s suppose you don’t have your gun and there’s no way back; pick your road.”
Johnson shrugged. “Well shit! There’s gotta be a reason you’re asking me this.”
Malcolm nodded sarcastically. “Because I get to ask you whatever the fuck I want.”
“No…” Johnson waved a hand. “You still chose to come to me instead of Fireball. I’m not bilingual, you can’t speak in code to me. So, what is the fuck?”
“Fine, I’ll simplify myself.” Malcolm held a dead stare. “Do you trust me?”
“Eh…”
“Are you serious?”
Johnson shook his head. “I don’t know what kind of trust you’re looking for. I trust that you’ll bark my ear off if I don’t tell you what you want.”
“Jack…” Malcolm hushed, “This is important. If you don’t trust me then at least have the humility to listen. Who do you trust?”
His eyes rolled up his head. “…I suppose I could name a few.”
“I want you to assemble a squad.” Malcolm ordered. “Now.”
“For what?”
“So, we can get these infected people out.”
“You think a couple infections are gonna bring us all down before backup gets here?” Johnson asked.
Malcolm paused at that. He took a step forward to lower his surgical mask, revealing his contempt. “You are not about to make me tell you this isn’t a flu.”
Johnson raised his finger for a retort, but no words were uttered. He proceeded to rub his helmet, staring back and forth between the violent horizon and the confines of the visitor’s center. “Ugh…Shit…I ugh…thought that the guys were being dopes but…Fuck me…I was kind of hoping you’d, well, shut them down…”
Malcolm deadpanned. “Well I won’t, even the Chinese are telling us what’s happening. That’s why we’ve aborted the offensive; it’s also why we’re trying to evacuate. Now do you understand what we must do?”
Johnson’s eyes shut with the revelation. “Well fuck…Fubar isn’t exactly what I signed up for Spacey...”
“Neither are our methods of warfare.” Malcolm continued. “Do you understand that this is about us making it through the night?”
“Goddammit.” Johnson pinched the ridge between his eyes. “I-I’ll go talk to some people.”
“And make it snappy.”
As quickly as Johnson entered the center, Liam flew the adjacent door open. He then stood with his hands gripping his waist. “You fucking know you can’t get those people out! What did you say to Jack?”
“Listen…” Malcolm’s tone transitioned from hushed to stern, “…If you want to get your boys out of here…”
“They’re ours!”
“Otlichno Comrade!” Malcolm was snide. “Next you’ll be telling me we’re responsible for the civilians too.”
“Well…” Liam nodded. “We swore to protect and serve; that includes noncombatants.”
“On the contrary,” Malcolm closed the gap and stared into Liam’s soul with the black of his eyes. “We, in the Army, enforce American Interests. Period. And right now, our interests have been reduced to the simplest of premises: keep living.”
“Listen.” Liam raised a finger. “You bring Jack back here, right now, and you tell him that we are getting these people out!”
Malcolm hid his guffaw behind a stern twist of his mouth.
“You heard me!” Liam continued. “I’ll do it my goddamn self if I have to.”
Malcolm shook his head. “You will get us both court marshalled. If there’s even a court left when we get out.”
“Laws don’t just fly out the window like this!” Liam reinforced.
“There is no ‘Law’ when it comes to warfare!” Malcolm snarked. “We leveled the living shit out of this entire peninsula and Vietnam when our backs weren’t even against the wall! What we’re dealing with here is gonna change everything.”
“We don’t know for sure…” Liam emphasized. “Mendez didn’t tell you what the Chinese were saying.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“It’s already bad enough for them to be talking. If you don’t want to see the connection, then you’re a fucking idiot.” Malcolm pointed his finger inside the Center. “…Do I need to spell this out for you?”
Liam chose to deflect. “You’re not going to murder those people.”
“Listen, Piper.” Malcolm raised a hand. “I can tell your company has delt with enough and you don’t want to fuck up your prospects.”
“I’m trying to stop you from getting caught!” Liam yelled.
“And what does that matter to you?”
“You realize this involves my wounded too?” Liam stated.
Malcolm nodded. “Well guess what; you think the government is above human experimentation if we get them out?”
“It’s not your place to decide that!” Liam pointed out.
“But I’m correct.” Malcolm continued. “Trust me, compared to that, I’m doing the right thing here.”
Liam bulged his eyes. “You can’t seriously expect me to just put up with this?”
“Last time I checked, you’re still a lieutenant.” Malcolm poked his chest. “You will stand down or you will be relieved.”
Liam smiled for some reason. “I don’t think you honestly understand how that will be the end for both of us.”
Malcolm ignored him. “I made a pledge to get my people out alive…Are you willing to risk it all so soon into the Apocalypse?”
Liam shook his head, almost hesitantly. “…You don’t have the authority to call it that yet…”
“If my worst fear proves true, then I stand by what I said. Everything changes.” Malcolm tried to wave him away. “Now, go have a cup of coffee with your grunts. Let me handle the big boy responsibilities.”
Liam’s expression turned to one of self-satisfaction. “Isn’t Daniels your friend?”
Malcolm cocked his head. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Compared to what Javi went through…I’d expect any friend to do the same for me…” Malcolm left it on that and dismissed Liam again as he turned to enter the center. Malcolm eyed the office door and followed it with a scan of the perimeter for any sign of Johnson. He made his way over to the office. The twelve wounded were still laid to recover next to the door, except for Daniels.
Malcolm’s thoughts dwelled on Avery, and his ripped face, followed by the time-honored traditions of armies to the those executed before and during the Second World War.
Maybe I should've offered him a cigarette.
Malcolm’s daydreaming was broken by the rearing of Kenneth. When Malcolm faced him, he was flanked by six other troopers of various ranks: Second Lieutenant Jason ‘No-Nut McGee’ Price, McGee hid his auburn hair beneath the helmet and held the same melancholic determination he had carried since his accident. First Sergeant Hannah ‘Slit-Wrist’ Nichols, her incident took place during her emo-phase in high school, and she had long since returned to her natural blonde. The bucked-toothed, Staff Sergeant Brock ‘Toothy Booey’ Jackson. The former High School boxing champion, Master Sergeant Alan ‘Da Cow’ Williams. Sergeant Isaac ‘Doc’ Douglas, a freckle-face college dropout who thought life in the Army was just like video games. And finally, was a lowly Corporal by the name of Caleb ‘Bullet Tarry’ Garth; an albino skinned twenty-year-old with a set of flat lips and crimson red eyes that made Malcolm jealous.
Malcolm slowly nodded as he absorbed the character of the squad that he asked Johnson to assemble. They stood there with a silent acknowledgment of the pressing concerns.
“I did some talking, Captain Spacey.” Johnson began. “You asked and I obliged and all that.”
Malcolm nodded once again and took a step toward them so as not to have to project his voice. “So…we all understand what we’re doing here? If you don’t want to, I understand. But I promise you that I’ll be the one to explain everything tonight.”
The squad exchanged glances, checking each other for doubt. Corporal Garth stepped forward, flipping a switch on his AR-Fifteen. “Just tell us how we’re doing this, Captain.”
Well. Well. Well. This little shit right here just might be officer material.
Malcolm motioned his fingers. “…We’re separating the civilians, and the wounded, a step further. Ya’ll will round them up and get them outside. Just say that a convoy will meet us up the road. When our boys ask why, assure them that the choppers have no room in the parking lot.”
“Where do we take them?” Garth asked.
“Far enough to not been seen.” Malcolm hushed. “Close enough to be safe from the mayhem.”
The private tapped his helmet and raised a brow; Malcolm nodded. After he was acknowledged, Malcolm signaled to Johnson that he was to be followed. They proceeded over to the mouth and crossed the distance to the first hovel.
They arrived at the forty-five civilians clamoring at their shining flashlights. In addition to being startled, Malcolm could hear, even now, the excessive coughing from the back of the crowd.
“People!” Malcolm called out. “Help here! Up road we take you! Line up; Sick and Young first!”
His garble nearly didn’t fall through. But the old man emerged from the crowd and began a much clearer translation. To his and Johnson’s astonishment, the five remaining infected popped up to line up with some fifteen women accompanied by six children ranged from nine to their teenage years. The man approached them with his delirious wife, Mau-Pon, and bowed his head, uttering a slow and clear, ‘Thank You.” Malcolm felt compelled to put his hand on the elder’s shoulder to emphasize the false comradery. Instead, he offered a false return bow.
“Base first. America second.”
Time seemed to dilate every time Malcolm marched through the tunnel, from the moment he first marched into the tourist attraction. He remembered the wonder at what caused such fear in the minds of the military police and being on the opposite end of a crime scene for the first time.
There’s no coming around from this; only the cold-hard truth of the matter. They’ll call me a coward anyway, and I won’t allow them to have any ammunition. I’ll tell the brass the truth and then dare them to call a coward of a man who mastered fire as a youth.
They trickled out the tunnel and Malcolm signaled Johnson to escort the group outside. It was then that he splintered off, walking through the internal encampment around groups of soldiers both squatting and whispering. It took him half a minute to locate X.O. Harvey Daniels assisting the logicians to hand out more supplies.
Harvey caught Malcolm’s gaze and knew he was being summoned. He picked his rifle from a crate and walked around a group of comrades after muttering something about quantities to the supplier. Harvey stepped into Malcolm’s face; his animosity blocked by the surgical mask.
“Convoys are meeting us up the road.” Malcolm lied.
Harvey winced. “What the fuck? What happened to the helicopters?”
“Beats me.” Malcolm hollowed.
Now, Harvey shrugged. “So, what’s this got to do with me?”
“The sick and the wounded are leaving first.” Malcolm poked. “That’s you.”
“The fuck I am!”
Malcolm slapped the bandaged wound on Harvey’s shoulder. He didn’t even wince.
“See?” Harvey bragged. “I’m not leaving until the rest have gone!”
Malcolm became sterner. “Lieutenant; I’m not giving you a choice here! I don’t care how well you feel. You’re going to see the doctors; end of discussion.” Malcolm whispered.
Harvey made no effort to hide his disdain.
“You know I’m right.” Malcolm continued. “Now don’t be stupid. The… Rabies symptoms can be stopped if we begin treatment immediately. I’m not leaving this to chance so my X.O. could lose his mind in the middle of combat. I was told to get all the sick and wounded out. You’re one of them whether you like it or not. Think about Sandra...what about Nicole and Blake? Are they…”
“You stop it right now…” Harvey hissed.
“Do I have to start talking out loud or are you gonna…”
“I’ll go…” he finally relented. “You don’t talk about my kids.”
“Ata boy, soldier.” Malcolm snarked. He moved out the double doors with the X.O. closing in.
They scanned the parking lot, there was everybody accounted for except the civilians and wounded. Malcolm did a slow three-sixty as he paced into the center of the lot.
I guess Jack took my order a bit literally. No matter.
“Wait.” Harvey stopped. “We’re walking?”
Malcolm too stopped. “I like the vehicles serving as barriers for our boys. I’d rather not move them.”
“If…” Harvey squinted. “Never mind.”
“Let’s hurry.” Malcolm insisted. “I don’t know how long they’ll wait if Jack gets there first.”
They departed from the lot and advanced into the dark of the upper road. The starlight illuminated the silhouettes of the trees, but they were forced to flip on their flashlights to see the ground in front of them. Malcolm squinted and thought he could see Jack and other lights shining in the distance. He knew it couldn’t be anybody else.
This could go wrong…Very easily. Malcolm thought to himself. The possibilities varied themselves: without Malcolm there to give the signal, they could wait too late or too soon. A swarm of civilians, or worse, could accost them. He began to regret not giving Johnson clearer instructions. They continued some fifty yards up the road and the beams of their flashlights were disturbed by the tree shadows cast from the starlight. Already, Harvey was looking through his scope.
“…It’s possible they’re running late…” Malcolm preemptively reassured. “They said they’d be meeting us.”
“Just stop.” Harvey halted after dropping his eye from the scope. Malcolm made it a few feet away from him before he too had to stop.
Harvey continued. “If we’re pulling out without any choppers, then the roads are safe. If the roads are safe, why the fuck are we not pulling out our goddamn selves!?”
“Look…” Malcolm rushed to formulate more time. “The convoy is from the Korean Health Ministry.”
“...So, I’m about to get experimented on?” Harvey took his mask off. “Fucking great!”
Malcolm hesitated. “It’s all about trying to find out what the strain is…”
“I FEEL FINE!”
“You may be a carrier!” Malcolm answered. “The Incubation could be days! You want to go home to Sandra with that!?”
Harvey pointed his rifle directly at Malcolm’s torso. “So, help me God if you throw my family in my face again, I’ll take the court-marshal!”
Slowly, Malcolm unhooked his own mask. “…Listen to me you son-of-a-bitch! We won’t be able to ‘court martial’ you! Understand?! You’ll be a rabid fuck and we have to put you down before your family must see or hear about that!”
“Say that again!”
Malcolm finally screamed. “YOU’RE A SON-OF-A-BITCH!”
Harvey stammered. “…Put ME down?!”
Malcolm pressed his palms against his mouth as he exhaled. “You. Are. Dying. Either way. GET THAT!?”
“But I’m not even sick!” Harvey sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“That bite doesn’t even hurt you!” Malcolm emphasized. “AIN’T THAT FUNNY?”
To that, Harvey let out the briefest of chuckles. “How’d it hurt for that Burglar you murdered!?” By this point, he was holding the rifle up with one arm.
Don’t do it. With Harvey’s flashlight reflecting Malcolm’s black pupils like the shine of a feline, he sighed a slight grin at the prospect of explaining. “That Phrasing…you make it sound so vindictive. That schmuck became another note in my renewal…”
Harvey visibly shuddered. “Why!?”
Malcolm kept a hand on his hips. “The sacred Heiau…the free Hawaiians practiced bloodshed against enemy chieftains and their subordinates. They were cut, bled, or bludgeoned to appease their God, Ku, and safeguarded the victories to come…”
“That’s not what the fuck I asked you!” Harvey’s rage flew spittle.
Malcolm shrugged, followed by a sigh while staring at the ground. “Cause…it makes me feel like I’m not dead.”
“…Well bully for you, you pathetic FUCK!” More spittle from Harvey caused Malcolm to reel back. “How many?!”
Malcolm’s eyes rolled to the top of his head as the estimates, both legal and illegal, combined in his mind. He dropped his chin and relented the effort. “…Why does it even matter now?”
Harvey leaned in. “Because we’ve been to each other’s FUCKING HOUSE!”
Malcolm could see that Harvey was practically throttling the trigger. “…My crawlspace was always clean…You had nothing you do with any of it; just happened to run parallel-”
“Do you feel bad?” Harvey cut him off with a shrieking whisper. “Just tell me that…Tell me you killed those people because somewhere in your fucked up brain, you thought you had to…”
Malcolm had to contemplate the philosophy of the question. A brand-new harmony of automatic fire engulfed the night air, catching both Malcolm and Harvey dead in their thoughts. They both just looked up at the road; they could not see the illumination of the lights, but the gunshots reverberated around the cavernous walls of trees. Malcolm slowly faced Harvey once more and their eyes met again.
“WELL?!” Harvey demanded.
“…Meryl was never supposed know that side of me…I tried to stop it.” Malcolm’s eyes dropped to the ground, unsure why he admitted that.
“That doesn’t answer my question! Are you even sorry?” Harvey’s face turned to sorrow. “…what are you telling my family?” The rifle began to tremble.
Malcolm knew that he owned it to the dying man not to lie. “I can’t even promise you anything…”
The glistening in Harvey’s eyes shone. “So this is the End?”
Malcolm nodded forlornly. “For you? Yes…If sending me to Hell makes you feel better before you die, then go ahead…When the lights go out, you’ll understand.”
Harvey’s gun went from trembling to shaking as he sniffled away the tears; he lowered it.
Malcolm chose to continue. “Even if you do it…Orders are that everyone sick or wounded gets left behind. Do you understand me? There is nothing else that I can do for you…If we stay here? You turn on us. If we leave you here? You turn on someone else. If I pull rank and take you with us? Your BRAIN gets dissected. Every option ends with you gone.”
Harvey finally cried. “So, you just put me down like I’m Cujo?”
Malcolm kept his voice soothed. "You don’t want to hurt our friends do you?”
As Harvey’s rifle dropped, he was stark once more. “You don’t talk to me about friendship…”
The barrel of the rifle sank to the ground; with one hand, Harvey unclipped the binding to his helmet. He gently lay the rifle flat on the cool cement before unequipping his helmet with both hands. He deliberately placed it by his feet, rising with closed eyes and a sharp exhale. He took a step over the rifle and a slow, morose second to the grass by the side of the road as punk rock ballad was sung.
"...The End is Where We Begin...
...Where Broken Hearts mend and Start to beat again..."
It was on the grass that he sank to his knees. Malcolm strode until he was far across from Harvey. He faced Harvey’s back, whose shadow was cast over the ground beneath him; sobs continuously crack between the hymns.
"...The End is Where we Meet Again-"
“Wrong.” Malcolm interrupted, prompting Harvey to shift around on his knees. Malcolm’s right hand drummed on his Crystal as he drew his sidearm.
“Whoa…I never meant to brag…But I got him where I want him now.
Whoa…It was never my attention to brag….to steal it all away from you now.
But God does it feel so good…Cause I got him where I want him now…
And if you could then you know you would…Cause God it just feels so-“
“YOU EVIL FUCK!“
Two loud pops cut him off, both taking his chest without exiting. Blood oozed down the Kevlar like a melted Gel; Harvey knelt there and inhaled sharply. His lips began to quiver in pain before the first cough ruptured more blood.
Malcolm stood still with the pistol half-cranked as Harvey fell forward. There was still a wheeze from him, and the wheeze was followed by more coughs. Very slowly, Harvey moved his arms forward to prop himself up. He and Malcolm shared eye contact while the leaves skidded under the gust of a new wind.
“W-what are you doing?” was all that could pour out of Harvey’s mouth besides the darkening blood. This was followed by louder coughs that sent blood spraying to the cement. Harvey lost all strength to hold his head up and collapsed.
A sudden hack launched a fresh geyser of blood into the air. He then rolled onto his back with every limb pressing into the grass; all the while, Harvey continued to croak. As he sprawled there, shaking his head violently, the croaks gradually escalated into a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly he was on his stomach once again. And then he was raising himself with both hands, until he got a look at Malcolm.
The most violent roar from hell sent the blood flying to the base of Malcolm’s boot. The thing that had been Harvey bore eyes that were frozen with an unadulterated rage. With seemingly no warning, it bolted for Malcolm. It took a single, additional squeeze of the trigger to send a bullet exploding out the back of Harvey’s forehead.
Finally, Malcolm took his steps forward, watching the marionette brain matter seeping out the fresh puncture between Harvey’s eyes.
…They’re already dead…Goddammit!!!
Malcolm sheathed his pistol and thought for a moment about retrieving Harvey’s dog tag. A loud boom made him sense the futility of this, instead, Malcolm kicked the helmet to the body and began walking back to the infiltration tunnel.