“You only grow by coming to the end of something and by beginning something else.” ― John Irving
Malcolm had sulked his way out of the office after another failed attempt at raising contact with someone. They had been treating the infiltration tunnel like it were the home of a treasure-hoarding Dragon and promptly kept their distances as the blackened bodies gathered gnats. The Center was overcrowded, and Malcolm had to weave himself around an outside campfire to retrieve a much-needed cup of coffee.
It was starting to rear on the twenty-first hour, and they could all see the silhouette from Paju, and the choppers beating the night sky. Every now and again, the drumming of automatic fire could be heard, which Malcolm’s ears usually perceived as the nighttime equivalent of singing birds. It reverberated in the wind and haunted the boys around him like the shrill of a siren whisper. Up in the sky, the helicopter lights became one with the stars as most of them fled to the south. Malcolm sipped his coffee with his free fingers twitching randomly.
He took a survey of the fortified perimeter: The men and women of November and Bravo were blended as the fire teams awaited any signs of movement up the road or the tree lines. Staff Sergeant ‘Toothey Booey’ Jackson tended to the fire while surrounded by ten grunts of his squad. A new burst of weapons broke the chorus of silence.
“Well then,” Jackson tapped the coffee pot. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be in Pyongyang next week.”
“Dude, that’s all you have to say?” his main Sergeant asked.
“I’m just sayin’,” Jackson went on, “It literally looks like we’re retreating. I wasn’t expecting Spacey to be right.”
“Bullshit!” another slack jawed private muttered, “America don’t run away!”
“We still have to regroup like everyone else.” Malcolm interrupted. “Besides…those choppers are probably the Third Division evacuating Civilians.”
“So, we’re kicking ass is what you’re saying?” the Private boasted.
“I’m saying we’re pulling the civilians out.” Malcolm was stark. “The brass and Mendez wouldn’t listen to me, so they’re probably paralyzed right now; I doubt the larger operation is moving forward at all.”
“So do you think we’ll be flanked?” asked Booey.
“If they were gonna do that they would’ve attacked by now, the assault through the tunnel had us in full retreat...It would’ve been perfect. That was the attack, and I think it was nothing more than a distraction. Still, they might try to choke us out if the area gets surrounded.”
“So, we keep an eye on the roads?”
“Yes, but they’ll have much more cover in the trees.” Malcolm said.
“Should we be setting claymores?” A corporal asked.
“No, civilians might come running.” Malcolm assessed the risks. “Every base and outpost will have crowds looking for shelter if there’s fighting in the streets.”
“Well shit!” a soldier said. “How are we supposed to see ‘em coming?”
“Uh, they’ll be panicking.’ Booey corrected.
“It’s a fully lit sky…” Malcolm thought aloud. “We shouldn’t have to rely on Thermal or Night vision.”
“I’m just pissed off I missed the craziness.” Booey stated. “One minute, the power goes out, the next minute we hear every gun inside going off! So, it’s true that Chavez bought it?”
Malcolm wanted to hold Jackson’s eye lids open while he spilled boiling coffee in his sockets. “He died being a hero.”
“I saw one of the squads that went through the tunnel,” the private said, “They looked pretty fucked up.”
“Yeah well, an entire quarter of their company got taken down. I haven’t heard of that shit happening like, ever!”
“Are we sure everyone’s K.I.A. in there?” The Private started. “I mean, you said the enemy was unarmed. Maybe we should send som-”
“I’ve already talked that through with the Lieutenants. No.” Malcolm answered.
“So what?” He seemed offended. “Fuck ‘em?”
“We have maximum firepower when we’re together.” Malcolm sipped his coffee, “I’m not thinning us out after what happened. Especially when I don’t know what’s going on.”
“We’re under attack!” the private guffawed. “…Sir.”
“And until I know it’s not a fucking alien invasion, I’m not throwing you sods into the furnace!” Malcolm looked down on the private. “And considering what happened to Bravo, you’re welcome.”
“Chavez could be maimed in there!”
“No... He’s dead.” .
“You ditched him!”
Malcolm threw what was left of his coffee onto the ground without breaking eye contact. Marching over to the Private as they all basked in his silhouette, Jackson scooted between them. Malcolm took a deep breath through flaring nostrils that stunned his men. “If you were there, then you would know.” He hushed. “Accept that he’s gone.”
The grunt’s eyes softened, and he sank his head before staring back out onto the horizon after a new rifle burst caught his attention. They were still too distant to be more than echoes, but he gripped his rifle expecting the flashes to come charging out the woods.
“M-maybe it’s the armored brigades coming to us.” One of them said.
This tunnel is for infantry to cross, you idiots. “One more reason not to set mines.” That was all Malcolm said as he faced the horizon and looked back at his spilled coffee. Before he could depart, a set of approaching steps caught his ear. When he turned around, it was a frazzled Clairet.
“Sir…” She resorted to French. “We need you…”
“What’s happening?”
“…It’s the wounded.”
“Da fuck are you saying?” Jackson asked.
“Grownups are talking Booey.” Malcolm did not pay him with his eyesight. “Take me to them.”
She turned around, motioning him and they swiftly entered the center. Malcolm checked his watch, and the time was Twenty fifty-nine. The crowded Visitor’s center was an ominous silence as the gas-powered lamps served as the only illumination, and the stench of tangled, blackened bodies gradually became worse. The platoons vigorously guarded both sides of the tracks, ignoring the occasional sounds of warfare outside. Without the time to pack up the tents from the tunnels, Malcolm kept the sick inside the office while the wounded lay beside the door. They had at least fifteen and only two were from Bravo; all had the same problem, mutilation to various degrees.
Daniels sat to the right side; his camo shirt and Kevlar sat at the side while a medic named Hammond gave him fresh water from a canteen. He was bandaged from the shoulder to the bicep.
“Take it off.” Clariet ordered.
“It’s not time to change it yet.” The medic protested.
“I don’t care. Do it.” she demanded.
Daniels sat there with an annoyed expression as the Medic undid the bandage on his left shoulder. Malcolm circled around with his lieutenant to get a look. With the shine of the flashlight, Malcolm could see that the wound was already starting to fester with the color black.
Malcolm’s mouth started to hang. “…Harvey?”
“Shut up, I’m fine.” He replied and swatted Malcolm’s hand as he tried to feel his forehead.
“Yeah, for now you are.” Was the medic’s response.
“Tell me you applied the alcohol.” Malcolm demanded.
“You think I’m a rookie?” The Medic feigned offense; Malcolm rubbed his chin in response. “What is it sir?”
Malcolm waved him down. “Carry on Private.”
“I’m a corporal, Sir.”
Malcolm chooses to let it slide, “Dress the wound again, efficiently this time.”
“I’m doing the best I can here.” The Medic waved to the rest. “These people need Hospital antibiotics.”
Malcolm paused. “It’s not just him?”
Clairet interrupted, “It’s everyone…same fester. Especially the girl with the ripped face.”
“We thought she was experiencing shock at first, but we realized that her temperature is already rising. She’s got a concussion, too.” The Medic finished as he pointed to her at the end toward the left.
“Daniels?” Malcolm looked down. “How do you feel?”
“I’m pissed off.”
“What does this feel like?” Malcolm was tempted to slap the wound.
“I don’t feel it at all.” He answered.
Malcolm winced. “How?” He looked at the Medic. “How much morphine did you give him?”
“I didn’t give him any, he said no.”
Malcolm looked at Daniels again. “It doesn’t even itch?”
“Does wanting to get back in this count?” he said impatiently.
With that, Malcolm slapped the bare wound. “What the fuck?” Daniels demanded.
“THIS. Is the fuck!” Malcolm emphasized as he degloved his right hand. “I’ve seen men old as you are cry like a bitch over a gunshot.” He helped himself to the germ sanitizer in the medic’s trauma kit.
Daniels flashed a stare. “And what do you know about being shot?”
“Careful lieutenant…” Malcolm’s eyes turned black.
Daniels’ eyes rolled. “Just saying… Always giving rounds out. Is that right?”
“…I’ve given back to this world once.” Malcolm had no idea why he said that. Daniels cut his head back at Malcolm and masked his disgust; meanwhile, Malcolm stared back using his dark pupils which commanded power.
Clairet and the Medic cut looks across them as if they were taking the shrapnel from an inside joke.
“Hammond, redress this.” Malcolm snapped his fingers. “Daniels, if you want in then suit up and follow Fireball; just focus on keeping the boys organized.”
Daniels huffed, to which Malcolm raised a finger. “And if you so much as cough, you come right back here.”
“Yes sir.” He said reluctantly as Clairet furled her brows at the peculiar interaction. And as they started, Malcolm crossed the other wounded. They each had deep scratches on their arms or at the face, gouges via human teeth on shoulder here or a hand ridge there. This continued until he was upon the half-faced grunt named Rook, who was being cared for by the medic named Lawford. Rook lay in a borderline catatonic state, almost hyperventilating as she processed the trauma. Lawford was just dabbing raw alcohol with a tweezer as she lifted the gauze pad and did what she could. Malcolm only had to look to know that it was infected.
There’s no debating this with anyone, I must get these people out of here.
“Sir!” Lawford said, “We need to-“
“I know.” Malcolm cut her off. He was prompted to try the coms inside the office again. He stepped inside and there were now seven masked flu patients: the two elderlies, a teenager, two men and two women. The room was packed, and the only light was Sergeant Avery’s gas lantern.
Avery lost his attention for the patients, noticing Malcolm. “Sir, I’d feel a lot better if you wore a mask yourself.”
“Toss me one.” Malcolm ordered and the medic did so. He equipped the strings over his ears. “Please tell me you aren’t catching it.”
“I feel fine so far but I’m pretty sure this one is starting to see shit.” Avery was referring to the sixty-year-old woman in dirty clothes. She was muttering to somebody nonexistent as she stared over Avery’s shoulder. This gave Malcolm pause; he couldn’t understand her, but he knew that she was serene. Whoever she was talking to was likely gone, but there wasn’t the slightest hint of regret.
Avery blinked, “Sir?”
Malcolm shook his head. “It’s nothing, she’s probably demented.”
“She’s kind of young for that.” Avery was perplexed.
“Look at her!”
Avery shrugged. “My grandmother never had dementia until her late seventies.”
Malcolm rubbed his chin. “You can’t ever tell with old people.”
Peterson held up a thermometer. “She’s running a high fever sir. So, with all due respect, no she’s not going through a brain fart.”
Malcolm nodded. “And it’s going to stay in this room.”
“She needs a hospital and medicine.” Avery reasserted.
“I am talking about the symptoms. Not a peep out of you to anyone until I’ve spoken to somebody. Speaking of which, get out.”
“Sir?”
“I’m trying for a signal.” Malcolm stated. “My orders are need-to-know only. Get out.”
Avery motioned over the rest. “What about these people?”
Malcolm shook his head. “They don’t know what I’m saying. You’ll be right back.”
“Yes sir.” Avery did not bother taking his mask or gloves off while stepping past Malcolm. The awkwardness of being surrounded by mere civilians perturbed Malcolm to the point it became a severe regret that these people were not random hikers between desert outposts. Malcolm ignored the staring eyes and tapped his earpiece for any transmission.
“Camp Casey, come in. This is November. We need a sitrep on the situation. Over.” His only answer was a coughing from within the room. “Casey, we’ve had an attack on the tunnel. Requesting assistance. Over.” He switched frequencies. “Mendez. Come in! I’ve got wounded, sick and a goddamn attack on my hands. I need a sitrep! Over.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
After no response, Malcolm’s eyes glanced in a circle around the office. He pivoted and opened the door for Avery who stood by the side directing the other medics. Avery waltzed back over and though the door and Malcolm closed it on them. “Pass masks out; tell anybody with a cramp to report it.”
Avery slowly nodded and took one glance around the room.
“Now.” Malcolm ordered and Avery left. Again, Malcolm was alone with the currently infected. Noticing that Avery had left his medical kit, he decided to search for what had been used; vials of medication had been spared. Besides the alcohol solutions, they had no means for treating viruses. Malcolm crossed around the desk to bring the chair around.
“Everyone. Here.” Malcolm translated as he pointed to the chair. He motioned the elderly lady back, who clearly didn’t understand his instructions. They were initially hesitant, but one of the women crossed over from by the door. She was younger than Malcolm by at least three years with long hair and he did not care for her name. She took the seat and Malcolm motioned for her to roll her sleeve up. Her compliance was accompanied by a nervous stare; Malcolm then equipped medical gloves. He proceeded to feel her pulse, the palm was cold to the touch, but the pulse was there.
Malcolm attempted his translations. “Fever…chills. When did it start?”
This question ignited a barrage of nervously indecisive ramblings. Her head faced her lap, and she used vernaculars that clearly came from a regional dialect Malcolm was ignorant of.
“Basic.” Malcolm spoke. “Korean very basic.”
She slowed down. “Since Morning. Comes and goes.”
“You said nothing?” Malcolm asked.
“…I’d be a burden to the group.”
“Any contact with sick?” Malcolm had to act out his question.
“No.”
“Have you shared anything?” Malcolm raised a brow.
“Yes.”
“With whom did you share?”
“My husband….” Her speech became unintelligible once again.
“Slow.” Malcolm ordered. “Just your husband? Any children?” She placed a hand on her stomach; she certainly had just conceived. “Is that it? You shared with no one else?”
She shook her head.
Malcolm raised his brows. “What did you share?”
“Food; water.”
“That’s it?” Malcolm ensured.
“Yes.”
Malcolm felt her cold forehead. “Not warm at all?” he genuinely asked her, to which she shook her head. Her forehead was damp and cold to the touch. Malcolm immediately changed his gloves and used the germ x in Peterson’s kit. “Husband. Who?”
She frantically asked what he was going to do in a barely intelligible fashion.
“He must be here.” Malcolm reassured. “With you.”
Ease came to her eyes with a sigh, “I show you.”
“No! Stay here. Give name.”
“Mau-tun.” She relented.
“No one else? Just Mau-tun?”
“Yes.” She confirmed.
“Thank you. You are okay now.” Malcolm waved her away. “Next?”
She rolled her sleeve down with relief and Malcolm thought about waiting until he gathered all the names. The next volunteer was one of the men, a short haired man with high cheek bones.
Who the fuck am I kidding? Malcolm thought. We’re all under quarantine at this point.
“Kim Ha-nun.” The man tried to alleviate the tension with a handshake; Malcolm humored him with an elbow bump.
Malcolm tried his best to be what he thought a doctor should be based on television; he knew the right questions. “Symptoms. Start when?”
He took it slowly, syllable by syllable; to compensate for Malcolm’s foreign tongue. “Evacuated last. Two days ago. Fever start this morning.”
Malcolm nodded. “Thank you. Evacuated last?”
“Emergency Broadcast tell us to go. We stay behind to pack, food low. Gangsters-“
“Wait.” Malcolm halted. “We?”
“My love. Jin-Ni.” He pointed to the other man with Un’s styled haircut; he stared down in near shame.
Malcolm was pleased. “Ah, so you people don’t get executed after all.”
“We can’t trust the Americans with details about us!” Jin muttered.
Ha-Nun affirmed. “Our army abandoned us. They’re still here.”
Malcolm’s ears triangulated at the word ‘abandoned’.
Ha-Nun looked back to him. “The army declares evacuation. We stubborn. Miss deadline. No army. Mass looting from gangsters.”
“Where from?” Malcolm asked.
“Haeju.”
“How leave?”
“Foot. Big crowd leave city.” He acted it out with his hands. “Rumors that road dangerous. We join large group into woods.”
“Who knew of tunnel?” Malcolm insisted.
“Former Army officer.”
Malcolm’s mouth dropped pleasantly with raised brows. “Who?”
Jin cut Ha-Nun off before he could answer. “You’ll get him in trouble.”
At that, Ha-Nun bit his lip. Malcolm reclined in his chair, deciding former occupations might not matter anymore. “When find tunnel?”
“Last night, we sleep outside.”
“Sickness start after?”
“Yes.”
“What you do?” Malcolm pressed the issue.
“We say nothing. Embarrassed.”
“No.” Malcolm persisted. “Before sickness.”
“We travel days from city. Take shelter from rain. Gather water…Haeju burning…Explosions all across.”
Malcolm nodded. “Thank you. How you feel?”
“Umm…”
“It’s okay.” Malcolm assured him.
“There’s the fever. We feel stiff. Neck hurts. Umm…” He held his tongue out for Malcolm to get a good look.
Wait a minute…
Malcolm found the reddish-brown sores inside his patient’s mouth; it registered a ding in Malcolm’s brain.
Avery, you are a fucking dope… Malcolm looked at Jin. “You too?”
He shook his head for yes and held his tongue out. “I throw up. Stomach cramps. Asthma inflamed.”
Malcolm’s eyes bulged. “Sex unprotected?! Pitcher or Receiver?”
Both faces cringed at the statement. “Why ask?!”
“Important!” Malcolm barked. “Who is sick first? Who take pound?”
The awkwardness of the question was shared by the entire office. “That’s enough!” said Jin
Jesus Christ… “AVERY!” Malcolm bellowed before looking back to the patients. “You done.” Malcolm ordered. “Next?”
He didn’t want to have to force anybody into the chair, but they were pressing him. He scanned the room; the elderly would likely be useless, and he just knocked out two for the price of one interview.
“You?” Malcolm pleasantly ordered the teenage girl. Sure enough, she complied. She was barely a teenager anymore, at least eighteen. Interesting enough, was her near shaved head and brown eyes like Malcolm’s. She kept her chin down as she sulked over to the chair.
The door opened; Avery peered in. “Sir?”
Malcolm immediately lowered his mask and craned his head at Avery like an animal, flexing his pupils. “Ah yes.” He looked at the girl, “Moment please.” He smiled and glided to Avery.
“What did I do sir?” he pleaded.
Malcolm contorted his neck, both in a display of dominance and a manic display of stress; he had the willpower to maintain his poker smile. “Riddle me this: a weird outbreak of the cold mixed with the flu crops up suspiciously in the middle of a high-risk operation, right? And there’s this one lone medic with but one job, quarantine the infected. How then, does he confuse the symptoms of Syphilis with that of the Flu?!” Malcolm continued to twist his neck for dramatic effect.
Avery stammered. “What?”
Malcolm motioned his head. “See those two over there? I just found out they’re faggots. They’re symptoms also coincide with syphilis…tell me how the fuck a semi-doctor doesn’t differentiate a seasonal disease from a simple STD!?”
“But…t-they had high fevers like the others.”
Malcolm emphatically nodded. “A symptom of syphilis which you lazily lumped in with the Flu…they’re ice cold now. You know what that means? It’s not hypothermia, their immune systems are fighting both! You realize I might as well shoot them, right?”
Avery was faltering. “I-I mean… if they’re sick then we have to quarantine them anyway, right?”
Malcolm cupped his face. “Syphilis is only transmutable through sex, which these two happen to be sodomites.”
“W-Why are you-”
Malcolm guffawed. “You kidding me? That’s like…two deadly diseases in both, and one causes brain damage. You know they’re gonna die, right?”
“I don’t think you should be saying it like t-“
“Why? They don’t know what I’m saying.” Malcolm leaned into him “You fucked up here.”
“Sir, please don’t…”
“Go back out there.” Malcolm crossed back to grab Avery’s kit and pass it. “Take temperature tests on every civilian. Go!”
Avery hustled back outside, and Malcolm turned to smile at the teenage girl. He then sat back down as he asked to feel her forehead; it was damp and icy like the others. He rolled her sleeve up to check for any blisters and sores, she lacked both. “Family?” Malcolm asked.
She was silent with her head facing the floor.
“It’s okay…” Malcolm said.
“…Dead!” The tears ruptured from her eyes, and she did her best to dry them. The perplexed Malcolm allowed her to vent for almost a full minute.
“Gangsters?” Malcolm asked her.
She shook her head. “Trapped in Sariwon.”
“Under rubble?” Malcolm continued.
She shook her head again. “No...” she spoke in plain English.
Malcolm was awkwardly shocked. “Why not tell us?”
“Scared.” She whimpered. “We were trapped in Sariwon. By choice…Dad stubborn!” Her tears continued. “A Week ago, we hear looting….”
Malcolm nodded. “Go on…”
“We expect the army to return. Instead…days ago became howling…They everywhere!”
Malcolm almost didn’t register the last word.
“…we look outside… Running and killing everywhere! Dad says we must leave. Door man barricade entrance. Big crowd wanted in…. We hear BOOMS! Loud outside. Next, the door comes crashing down! Stairwell is clogged so dad brings us to basement…Everywhere is screaming! We find the entrance to duct...” She crackled under her tears. “Mother prayed, Dad fought them off and Brother sealed me inside.”
“You said that ‘they’ were everywhere?” Malcolm slowed his tone to sound more comforting. “The screaming or the attackers?”
She wailed. “I don’t know!”
“Did you get a good look at any of them?” Malcolm scooted in.
“NO!”
“Honey, this is important. Any small detail helps me.”
“My family died! Brother seal me inside…They throw him against panel! I hear him screaming!”
Malcolm pressed on. “So…rioters then?”
“You no see…no riot…Only Death….”
Malcolm winced in confusion. The girl lifted her pant leg and pulled a shoe off, revealing blooded indentions that festered like the other wounds.
Malcolm had to stop himself from hyperventilating. “Did they…bite you?”
She pulled her tears back in. “Yes...”
Malcolm nodded. “So…when did you get sick?”
“Last night.” she whimpered.
The sound of Malcolm’s heart pounding was drowning the stammers from the girl; he suddenly stopped caring how she escaped. Malcolm spun around and stormed outside the office, nearly shocking the other Medics. “I WANT THOSE BODIES AT THE ENTRANCE BURNED!” Malcolm bellowed. “DOUSE WHATEVER GASOLINE IS AVALIABLE!”
Avery prepared to slink back inside the Office; Malcolm halted him with an arm. “Stay out of there.” He ordered. “Tie this door off!”
Clairet ran up to him. “What’s happening?”
“Do as I say Lieutenant!” Malcolm reiterated. “Douse those corpses; siphon from our own tanks if you must!”
The response from Malcolm’s earpiece finally came. “Nelson, this is Mendez…Are you receiving me? Over.”
Malcolm fumed and dismissed Clairet as he paced to the front doors of the center. “With all due respect Major, I’ve…”
“Captain you’ve got fifteen minutes before the cavalry comes to haul your asses out of there. This is a general evacuation order…Get your people out alive. Over.”
Malcolm’s aggravation increased. “Sir, a quarter of Bravo is already dead, including Forrest! We wiped out a full enemy wave an hour ago! What’s worse is that I’ve got an increasing number of sick people! Over.”
Mendez almost deflected. “Don’t touch those civilians! Relay Forrest’s X.O. and get them the hell out! Over!”
“And what are we doing for the refugees?!” Malcolm asked.
“Negative on the civilians, Nelson. The cavalry is only coming for your company. Over.”
The batteries in Malcolm’s brain were at the point of combustion. “Major…Tell me what the fuck is happening Now!”
He didn’t even ask about Bravo.
Mendez returned following a deadpan silence. “The Chinese are finally talking to us…Over.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything!” Malcolm barked.
“You’ll get a debrief, sick people are turning aggressive across the country. Just stay alive for fifteen minutes and keep an eye on the roads. Group the infected with anyone wounded and separate them from the rest of you. We’re not bringing them. Over.”
“…And I tell them what exactly?”
“…Do what you need to do…” Mendez unwittingly enabled. “Over.”
Malcolm exited the tunnel; almost pausing at the news, he continued up the ramp as he held the bridge of his nose. “Sir, I sent a medical pricate to take an injured man back to Casey…the last I heard from him was when the attack started…”
“He’s dead, Nelson.”
Malcolm was shocked. “You haven’t checked!”
“I told you that you’ll get debriefed. Just accept the situation for what it is. Over and out.”
“But sir- Fuck!” Malcolm nearly threw his earpiece. He instead shouted at the companies once more. “CAVALRY IS INBOUND! ETA FIFTEEN MINUTES!”
Everyone seemed to pause while staring at Malcolm.
“START PACKING ESSENTIALS! ONLY WHAT CAN BE CARRIED! NOW!”
Everyone began to scramble to load their duffle bags. Malcolm paced between the front door and a set of crates where ‘Question Mark’ Beauregard sat with an open pack of cigarettes.
Malcolm strode over to Beauregard. “Gimme one.”
He smiled, leaning back as he was about to hustle. “Well, shit. Nit-Fit getting to you to, eh Spacey?” Markus opened his pack and drew one. “Never thought you’d indulge more than the occasional cigar.”
Malcolm took the cigarette and thanked Beauregard with a deep breath. “Cigars are for victory…I don’t think we’re winning this one Mark.”
“Well shit.” He laughed as he ignited his lighter for Malcolm. “What’s that line from ‘Platoon’; that we’ve been kicking ass for so long it was past time we got ours?”
Malcolm took a hefty drag off his cigarette and ghosted his cough. “I always thought it would be Iran that did it in our lifetime…”
Beauregard laughed. “And I thought Oliver Stone was a commie-sympathizing prick!”
“Unfortunately, it’s looking like a more fictitious kind of calamity.” Malcolm closed his eyes and leaned against the crates next to Beauregard, who stared back.
“Can I ask what sort of fiction you’re referring to?” Beuregard winced. “…Because I keep hearing grunts shushing others for dropping words like Z-”
“Do as I said; start packing this shit.” Malcolm changed the subject. “By the way…the civies are going into the tunnel. That’s your job.”
“Wait a minute, I thought the tunnel was off limits?”
“New orders.”
“Well shit.” Beauregard stomped on the end of his cigarette and stood to carry Malcolm’s commands. It was at this point Malcolm made his way to the front doors. He took another drag off his cigarette as Clairet burst past him to toss his orders along outside. They needed the parking lot cleared for the helicopters. Now, the nicotine was firmly hugging Malcolm’s pleasure receptors. A dizziness overtook him, and he closed his eyes to focus on balancing.
The screaming grew in audibility, not as an echo but compacted. It was coming from inside the front office. Malcolm dropped the cigarette and drew his pistol. When he looked at the office, the troops had already been drawing the wounded away. Nearby squads kept their guns trained at the door, meanwhile, all the infected came rushing out with fear and panic in their eyes. The final male shut the door and held it tightly. Malcolm rushed past Liam as they charged.
The man looked at Malcolm in terror, who screamed for him to move; Malcolm and Liam made their way to the door and could hear the wailing behind it.
When he flung it open, what shook their eyes was the sight of Avery flailing in resistance; crying in agony as the demented elderly and the teenage girl ripped into him from both angles; the blood was already pooling and dripping down the sides of the desk. There was a visible tear in the girl’s throat and a gash at the side of her head. Both she and the elderly fought with the ferocity of a rabid Hippo. Avery’s screams became croaks, and the Kevlar was finally tearing.
…You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…
The girl tore a chunk out of Avery’s torso and roared the spittle as she slammed her fists into his chest. Finally, her eye caught Malcolm. Without warning or hesitation, it took a single shot directly between her eyes to splatter the matter across the back wall. The bang caught the attention of the elderly, who ripped flesh too, so she may roar in Malcolm’s direction. Malcolm took the single shot needed to explode the back of her head.
The room became eerily quiet for what seemed like a long time. Malcolm kept his gun raised as he approached Avery. The medic tried to cry, but unfortunately, his eyes had been ripped clean out. All that was left of his face was a contorted mouth that attempted to sob in pain. Malcolm wasted no time putting a bullet in Avery’s head as Liam screamed, “DON’T!”