“You can’t kill me...

Cause I’m Already Inside you!”- Corey Taylor

The rumblings of the outside warzone, followed by music blaring from headphones, dragged Malcolm back to the present-day calamity. Suddenly, the thought of considering his predicament to be in the caliber of a ‘war zone’ brought the slightest of smiles to his face. His iPod had been left on to drown out the wines of the chinook’s compartment.

"...I'd give it all my oxygen...

...to Let the Flames Begin..."

He was stunned to be sitting across from himself; opposite of Malcolm sat different version, empty eyed and blackened like the Undead. Every vein inside Malcolm’s husk coursed the blackened blood, the dark-brown eyes rolled to the back of the husk’s head and revealed a ghostly opaque lens while its teeth were grinding together. Blood now dripped, like coagulted ink, down the chin; the husk croaked the gurgle of predatory lust while flailing at him, confined by the seat belt.

Malcolm took deep breaths as he remained stiff. I’m seeing how we’ll all end up.

As always, the Carnal Beast crawls inside and begs. I just wasted a mass of Berserkers and yet I see it; they were already dead, so they don’t count. I killed Daniels; he was already dying. The world’s sacrifices to the Beast have been meagre today. It had no intimate indulgence between me and the depictions.

I don’t have Meryl to hold me down as it tugs; there is only the buffet of all Mankind scattering about, with the Carnal Beast and the Living Dead. Until I can see Connor again, I’ll have no one left to mask the Beast for, and no one in my company will ever be safe.

No one else in the compartment seemed to fear or even notice the growling husk. Malcolm’s eyes landed on Lieutenant Campbell, who sat at the end of the compartment. Clairet was hunched over, elbows on knees and face in hands. Liam too sat forward, looking into her and speaking words Malcolm could not hear. He could finally tell that Clairet had pooled her emotions together to become what was expected of an officer. Her eyes were contemplative as she looked at Liam, smiled, and punched his shoulder.

A rupturing air pocket shocked Malcolm back to form; he appeared in his own body once again and the compartment began to shudder with audible voices. Malcolm felt the inertia when he looked out the porthole, he realized that they were landing on a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier. Dim silhouettes formed the shape of the city once known as Inchon; those silhouettes were now being hugged with orange bursts. The propellers ground down to a halt; Malcolm would be the first to unbuckle and stand. The two scores of troops in the compartment anxiously unbuckled and bustled for the ramp to open: their first taste of safety all night.

The Chinook’s mouth opened, and Malcolm emerged to a deck more crowded than a dense package. Ten chinooks lined each side of the deck, and a thousand grunts were pouring into the center of the USS Ronald Regan.

The reverb of automatic fire broke the collective quagmire of confusion. Malcolm snapped and turned, circling through the mass of disembarking soldiers. He could see that the port was illuminated by rifle bursts and fire. South Korean Platoons were left behind to guard the wharfs as the final boats were loading. The grunts were placed behind sandbags and cut back the massed civilian mob with automatic rifles.

The crowd which joined Malcolm in sharing the violent horizon despaired. A series of sonic booms pierced Malcolm’s eardrums as the Air Force extended the bombing campaign. Malcolm gulped his amazement as the grunts of a dozen companies poured out their sorrow. The former city of Incheon was falling to the weight of napalm bursts that blinked the horizon and enveloped tall towers.

A series of resonating megaphones broke troops from the visual of doomsday. A set of instructions on repeat from the naval officers: “All Infantry! Fall in at the center! Organize by Company!”

Malcolm took no time in clapping his hands as high as he could reach. “NOVEMBER! BRAVO! ON ME!” He strode back to the chinook’s hind end so that he may gather his people at the deck center. The soldiers made their way to Malcolm’s vicinity; bracing the air and flinching as if the heat from the napalm was within breathing distance. The camo mass bundled around Malcolm like Arctic Penguins and Malcolm weaved to the front; he could see his companies parted between some hundred grunts to the left and slightly more to the right. The same sight took place across the flight deck.

A series of Junior Naval Officers were lining from the deck bow to stern. They would stop by one company and a man would pull out a little logbook. Notes would be taken before an officer broke from the ranks to escort the company below deck. They were then on to the next company down the row.

Malcolm stood at attention when the formal entourage landed on his unit. “Name, Rank, Company and Division.”

“Nelson, Captain, November Company of the Second Division.” was Malcolm’s blunt answer. The Naval Officer took the notes and directed a junior to take Malcolm’s lead.

Malcolm would be led down a corridor of bunkroom accommodations. The Naval Officer led Malcolm to the front of the line as he directed the grunts of November Company into their new dormitories. Each soldier shrugged off their sonder and paced into their haven. The officer led them to the edge of the corridor where a sailor's door to a stairwell sat. He directed Johnson, Beauregard, Price and Clairet into their own dorm with adjacent bunks.

“Captain Nelson.” The officer stated. “Your room will be here on the right.”

Malcolm thanked the man and made his way inside. The luxuries compared to what awaited him in the field turned his senses to mush. Before he could turn to do it himself, the door was swung, and the wheel-knob rotated shut.

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The accommodation had two bunk beds on both sides and a square desk slammed in between at the front of the room. There were no windows and a ceiling light that Malcolm quickly flipped off. He proceeded to swing his Crystal off his shoulder and lay it flat on top of the adjacent bed before he unbuckled his backpack followed by his utility harness. Malcolm crawled onto the cot and his autopiloted senses turned off any considerations.

***

Once again, Malcolm found himself dreaming but was releived to find it serene. He was sitting a car with a still-pregnant Meryl as they waited on her brother in his car. When Malcolm lifted his head, they were outside the hospital and the sky was fully dark. Malcolm slowly looked over to his love, who stared at him with a bewildered expression. "What did the doctor's mean by that?"

Malcolm waas instantly flooded with the memory of supressed joy; he refocused. "By what they said? It sounded like Mom's respiratory system-"

'Not that."

Malcolm stammered. "What is it?"

"Seriously??" She didn't blink for a long pause, "Her First Pregnancy caused a broken tailbone??"

"Yea." Malcolm shruged. "She was nearly 40 when she had me."

"How many did she have?"

Malcolm suddenly realized that all his personal belongings were still in Camp Humphreys, should it still be standing. This was all it took to rouse him. He awoke face down into the pillow and sweating at the seams. He never realized his own exhaustion, and like a drunk man, he could’ve kept sleeping on the floor.

...A figure disturbed him into his fully lucid state. It sat atop the adjacent bunk with one leg hanging off and the other pulled into itself. If Liam had been a cat-man, there surely would have been illumination from his brown eyes. “What?” he started. “As the ranking officer of Bravo Company, I get special quarters as well.”

“Say, I’m wrong,” Malcolm smiled with his face on the pillow. “You’re the only officer left in that company.”

Liam nodded. “Wrong? Yes, you are. Incorrect? I guess not.”

“I’ve been right about everything else.” Malcolm bragged as he sat up.

Liam nodded. “The one-upmanship...so unbecoming of an admired officer.”

“I kept one over the Dead most of the night,”

“Last night.” Liam corrected.

A startled Malcolm checked his watch to see it was 5 A.M. He sat upright on the cot, realizing that his muddy boots were staining the sheets.

“Where were you when we got off the chopper?” Malcolm finally asked.

“Among the group.” Liam was sly.

Malcolm’s brows sank with annoyance. “Corralling your grunts I take it...You weren’t behind me, so when did you get here?”

“I’ve always been here.” Liam boasted. “Some geeks above deck started temperature checks, or did you forget the knocking last night?”

Malcolm winced at that and rubbed his eyes while trying to recall.

Liam shrugged in the shadows. “You were barely conscious when the door opened; though you’ve complained about lacking sleep...”

“So how much sleep did you get?” Malcolm asked.

Liam shook his head. “Oh, I don’t sleep. Especially when I’m rooming a guy who’d casually kill his own people.”

“If it’s Daniels you’re referring to-”

“Sixty.” Liam interrupted.

“...What?”

“I’m referring to the Sixty people you killed, including Daniels, fifteen were Servicemen.”

Malcolm raised his chin. “I ordered it. Daniels was the only-”

“Don’t give me that.” Liam bluntly said, “Your idea, your orders, your responsibility...”

“...They were Infected, Piper...” Malcolm stated. “Dealing with them was my responsibility.”

Liam waved a finger. “They weren’t all sick. And the look on your face in Camp Stanley tells me you loved it...”

Malcolm pursed his lips, “Then why didn’t you try and usurp my command like you threatened? I mean, it’s not like you’d have succeeded.”

“...I wasn’t in control.” Liam said blankly.

Malcolm flashed a grin. “I’ve got a little remedy for that shit.”

Liam moved his legs over the edge of his bunk, his face was still in the shadows. “Like Murder?”

Malcolm cocked his head. “Like whom?”

Liam laughed and pulled a mockery. “Malcolm! Why did you rob that bank?’ You’ll say, ‘which one?”

Malcolm blinked. “If it’s Avery you’re referring to, you have no right to judge me after everything you’ve seen out there.”

Liam persisted. “Malcolm, have you been embezzling?’ You’ll say, ‘how much?”

“Avery had no face, he had the infection, and he wasn’t a fucking Deus Ex Machina. Need I remind you how this zombie-shit plays out?”

Liam pointed at him. “Let me remind you that the command structure hasn’t fallen apart.”

“I’ve already skipped the chain when I demanded answers from McElroy.” Malcolm winked. “Despite your constant second guessing.”

“I saved your ass from being a sole survivor!” Liam exclaimed. “Being the Last Man Standing gets you a medal and maybe your fifteen minutes of fame; before you know it, people are asking ‘why did he live’. It’s just like being a kamikaze pilot for Japan!”

Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get lucky, and Mark Wahlberg will star as you two or three years after the headline breaks.”

“...Is fame all you people care about?”

Malcolm waved him down. “All I’m saying is, you could ride the resuscitated media frenzy and become a Republicunt figure head...what kind of people am I?”

“The kind that we keep the Death Penalty for. The kind that must tell the brass why he’s brought home the most soldiers out of any commanding officer on the ship.”

Malcolm nodded. “You counted to?”

“You hardly have to be mathematical to estimate each company’s losses.” Liam boasted. “You think that they’re not accounting for how many survived and why?” Liam swung both legs and hopped off the bunk; he cornered Malcolm who was keeping both arms stretched across the frame of his bed.

Malcolm’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could see the grin of Liam’s face. “They want to get a report from us…”

“Hmm…” Liam pondered. “I’ll have to give that one first, no?”

Malcolm shoved Liam away and sat forward. “You’re not speaking for me.”

“Oh, but I can.” Liam boasted. “Remember how you chose to listen to me…”

Malcolm guffawed. “So what?! Is this a fucking Devil on my Shoulder?”

Liam made a clicking sound with his jaw. “Since you must know. They’ll intend to fold our units since you need the replacements. As for you? You won’t be able to help it...Kind of what I’m worried about.”

Malcolm was flushed. “You don’t know a thing about me!”

“But I do know you, Malcolm. I’m the only one who’s ever understood you.”

A knocking from the sealed door interrupted them.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Malcolm called.

“Not so fast, dipshit.” Liam grabbed him. “Command said that they’ll get me in the morning. You’ll get your word soon enough.”

“Fuck that!” Malcolm tried to stand but Liam wrapped an arm around him, choking nerves with one arm while another hand masked Malcolm’s mouth. Malcolm was biting down Liam’s hand like he was one of the Berserkers.

Liam seemed to swallow the pain. “Shush…You’re finally catching up on your sleep. Don’t go out there gloating, just sleep, Murderer…”

Malcolm was limp before he could retort Liam’s derogative.