“People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.”― Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The irony of returning to his quarters after being lifted from quarantine was clear to Malcolm, yet he decided he wasn’t turning back once he entered the deck where November Company was housed. Most of the hatches to each quarter had been opened already and Malcolm even passed one of his own going to the stairwell he came from.
He spotted Liam exiting the hatch where the lieutenants of November Company resided, parallel to their own hatch. Liam spotted Malcolm and flashed a connivingly pleasant grin. “I thank you for that assertion of dominance to Clemens! The boys were getting agitated not knowing what’s happening, even if the world is in flames.”
Malcolm winced, “What did Clemens tell you?”
“About as much or less than what McElroy told you.” He held his thumb towards the hatch. “I just got done ‘trickling’ it to the Officers.”
“What did you tell them, exactly?” Malcolm demanded.
Liam shrugged. “Just what the rest of the world got from WHO's TED Talk on the living dead; the Korean infection is an Amoeboid and has been declared a global pandemic.”
“They know about the unrest back home?” Malcolm responded.
Liam nodded.
“And how long will they need to deal with the evacuation from the peninsula?”
Liam shook his head with a puckered mouth. “Well shit. Three days locked up don’t count much for recuperation. I’d say about that many for a start, add one more for the night of the operation…”
“Stop it. This isn’t a goddamn post-finals frat party we need to plan!” Malcolm opened the hatch to their designated quarters.
The Lieutenant remarked, “Well fuck me, sir. After I, and everyone else in the division, had to shoot our fellow, infected patriots just to not get fucking eaten? Shit, a party sounds like a brilliant idea.”
“Shut it and get in here.” Malcolm ordered Liam, who stepped forward as Malcolm entered. He pulled out the chair from the center desk, turned it around to face Liam; he crossed one leg to untie his boot while stitting. “I’ve been promoted to Major.”
Liam clicked his tongue, “Yea, I saw that one coming a mile away. But immediately after they lift us from quarantine?”
Malcolm kicked his boot off, “Unit shuffles and replacements are happening across the board; the dipshits in High Command want to enact counterstrategies against the outbreak sites.”
“So, what did McElroy tell you?” Liam asked.
“The National Guard is practically overwhelmed just trying to keep the riots in check,” Malcolm answered as he untied the other boot. “We got infected corpses going apeshit, and next thing you know, walls are coming back in fashion!”
Liam crossed his arms. “The US is kind of short on castles…”
“CDC wants to build these big fucking walls around ‘critical city districts.” Malcolm interrupted with a toss from his other boot. “I’m responsible for making sure the deployments from our regiment aren’t about to make off with Humvees and heavy munitions to protect their homes...We’ll be landing in Seattle.”
Liam held up a finger. “You sound like a grumpy fuck about not getting to lead from the front anymore.”
Malcolm’s feet slid across the cold floor and rested. “Oh, I’ll be atop the wall after we hit the city. Think I’m in control of anything if I camp on the fleet with the trauma rejects?” He reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Fuck no. The best military leaders in history, they’re at least right behind their boys.”
“Yes,” Liam said, “From several miles behind, with your legs propped up on that wall, you got their backs alright.”
Malcolm grinned and began to speak with a hand on his chest. “Now look, how many of my rank can be haplessly replaced every time something goes wrong? I’m kind of fucking smart, I’m a Candidate School graduate, and I seem to be good at what I do based on my soldiers' survival rate.”
He saw Liam’s brown eyes darted to the cigarette Malcolm was pointing at him with and bulged; the Lieutenant raised a finger. “Now hold the fuck up, you’ve been chaining these since asking for them. You started with two from Beauregard the night we were at the tunnel, then it’s a stress burner during quarantine, and now that pack is almost gone!”
Liam’s switching of topics puzzled Malcolm, “You’ve been fucking with me over how I am to others since we met. You want to police what I choose to do to myself, Piper?”
Liam’s smile returned, yet it seemed forced. “Eh, fuck it. Never been much of a stopper myself, except…”
“Kicked a bender before going to basic training?”
“...Let’s just say, I’ve stopped suicides before.”
“Ahh…” Malcolm nodded and thought a moment about his own suicide attempts before lighting his cigarette. “Why would you do that?”
“...What?”
Malcolm exhaled smoke through his nostrils. “Mother of Fuck decides they want out of an existence no one signed up for, from their own self-realized conclusion, and you decide cock-block the Reaper? I predict that you elicited some sort of ‘obligation’ from them to yourself; that they had to continue agonizing themselves with living, just so you don’t have to be sad…That’s just fucking manipulative and rude, not to mention selfish..."
Liam’s pursed, yet curled lips rested beneath buggy and unblinking eyes. The Lieutenant began to shake his head. “I never had to make it about me at all. All I had to do was…Step in for them, every time this person tried it. Once I presented myself, it was a matter of holding out a hand for the gun to be passed…They don’t want to die, any more than everybody else.”
Malcolm let his head tilt as he exhaled the smoke with closed eyes. “Yes…that fucking ‘Self-Preservation Instinct’, which is hardwired into all living things; same for groups, basic procreation, and a curiosity contradicted by a fear of the unknown. People lived, throughout Human existence, as no higher than the rodent: a baseline animal pupated by impulses.”
Liam let his eyes half close as if he was hearing this for a tenth time. “And our brutal rationalization of the day’s Hot Take is?”
Malcolm took another drag before holding his arms open. “Every damn thing People have ever done, back to the first Bronze Age, has been our Odyssey as the first creatures on Earth to resist our Nature. People went from eighteen hours of Nomad bullshit to eighteen hours of figuring out crops and how to get a surplus from them; ‘buildings’ were conceived, created by mutilated trees, after People decided to get the fuck away from Nature itself.”
A puff of Malcolm’s smoke hit Liam, seemingly passing through the Lieutenant as if he were opaque; he responded. “…People, as a group, learned to step outside of ourselves and think of what could be. That, Malcolm, is what it means to have a genuine aspiration; a curiosity in who we are, who we can become and what we can make in life. That is why we don’t want to die.”
Malcolm raised the two fingers holding his cigarette. “Well-spoken Mr. Carl Sagan. And through the thousands of years, the blood, sweat and tears of outdated tribals and assimilated cultures…People have freed up more time for more People to spend it at their leisure. We spend our leisure depicting our interpretations.”
Liam shook his head, “It’s a thing called ‘Art’, Malcolm. You know; music, poetry, theatre? It’s only one of the fundamental things that drives people forward.”
“Art is all in the eye of the beholder…” Malcolm’s own eyes turned black above the cigarette light. He continued, “But I digress…all Human history is predicated on that anomalous desire to break away from our original condition of slavery, a state of control by an intrusive Subconscious of neurons. Now then, tell me that Suicide isn’t just an individual overriding the most fundamental drive of nature? Do you think this person ‘sick’ for walking gently into that inevitable goodnight?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Liam rubbed his chin. “…He’s…not all there, Malcolm. No one else truly knows him because everyone else would shun him. He’s…severely ill.”
Malcolm responded. “You call him sick; I say that overriding this fear of death is the ultimate step in self-realization for any animal; for one to write their ending in a world of chaos is an act of control…until the likes of you, teaches them how to ‘fear’ again.”
Liam crossed his arms in the smoke. “What you described as ‘evolution’ requires an informed individual. I told you that what I prevented was in the hands of someone who has no self-control…they stopped being able to.”
“Uh huh.” Malcolm took his eyes to the ceiling as the words of his suicide note flashed before him. “And suppose this decision to die was predicated on the person’s commitment to someone or something? Like family.”
Liam flashed his eyes. “The emotional fulfillment we all get from social bonds is intrinsic to our survival; suicide is never good for the family…”
Malcolm paused and flashed a palm “So, Suicide is never a communal favor, no?”
“No.”
Malcolm let his eyes wander. “Even if you were dangerous to the people you care about?”
Liam showed his teeth in the grin. “This brother of mine…had the perfect deal for someone like them; the one time I let them have it too... and there was never anything wrong though, with him or what was had…just one of those things that no one wants to talk about."
“So, what’s your ‘brother’ doing now, huh? Where is he out there?”
“...they’re right where they need to be.” Liam answered.
“Hmm. You dance around my question.” Malcolm shook his head conceitedly. “You are a Southern boy, and by the gypsyness of your accent, not likely much of a state crosser when rotated home…”
Liam waved a hand. “Believe you and me, I’m watching them; since I became more active in their life, there’s yet to be a genuine slip-up.”
Malcolm persisted. “…so, you’re able to keep tabs on this non-gender binary ‘brother’ despite all that’s happening. You’re cautiously avoiding his identity, and you commit to standing by him…”
Liam’s smile was accompanied by a drop of the head. “…Sometimes the impression of a person can transcend a lifetime.”
Malcolm raised his brows with confidence. “Okay…We have you, and likely society, that thinks something is wrong with him…can’t imagine the mental health facilities getting a priority evac during this outbreak. Though come to think of it, all those padded cells and bed straps might be perfect for experimenting on zombies.”
“Oh, that shit would never do.” Liam interrupted. “Places like that are adult day care centers. Having that near my brother would seal it with a dramatic throat-slit; they're twitchy like a meth-addled samurai.”
Malcolm nodded. “Respectable…Still, we have you withholding while knowing where your ‘brother’ is, which means there’s some form of active communication going on. Ergo, this fella has a job that matters, even with a rabid Amoeba surging…”
Liam's pleasant voice remained but turned stark. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Now what does it matter?”
Malcolm tapped a bare foot while snuffing the end-flame of his cigarette. “That, Piper, is what I’ve been building up to highlight for you. Why does it matter that you stopped someone from sucking their own shotgun blast, mercifully and consensually, when someone somewhere was going to snuff that second chance? Be it with the agony of a Molotov cocktail, or the sinking teeth of a dozen Berserkers?”
Liam laughed through his guffaw. “Death is final. With Life? The possibilities are endless… and who the fuck accounted for a regenerating, cannibal pandemic?”
“Oh, I’ll bet with you right now: Someone in some health agency, if not others in several, made a damn playbook on this soon as Romero hit the screens. Got a big-ass sign saying, ‘Break Glass in case of Zombies.”
Liam nearly stuttered. “I’m sure they should’ve consulted YOU on the proper procedures. As for the suicide, I generally don’t have to check my optimism to decide if it ‘matters' before doing the right thing.”
Malcolm wanted to stand but felt too much comfort with the nicotine rush. “Pause. Of course, nobody envisions what will happen tomorrow because Chaos Theory is a mind-bending principle. At this present moment, we know that North Korea was to be ground zero for this strange ‘Naegleria Flu’ pandemic; even if we did establish our ideal ‘democracy’ for all Koreans, the fucking Dead were coming! I see not why such a case should matter in the end.”
Liam seemed to process this, for a moment, with his brow raised. “So, the ruined dream of a perfect regime-change with Korea, thanks to the Undead, is enough to render the potential of Life dirt cheap?”
Malcolm nodded, “Thanks to the Undead, yes. For better or worse? Depends on the situation"
Liam shook his head, “So succulent that nihilism must be after however many doses…Care not to think how that cheapness cuts to you, as it does to everything? Like the birth of your son.”
Now, this stopped being interesting for Malcolm; he maintained his glare. “...I’ve taken many meaningless things out the world...until Meryl and I became parents.”
Liam’s grin turned twisted. “Would this not be giving into subconscious instinct; the desire for procreation? Was creating Connor not some act of self-validation?”
Malcolm let his grin fade, starkly. “Whatever underlying reasons there were, it’s as irrelevant to you as my service was to the world. I looked at my son, time and time again, and I was seeing the only thing Meryl and I had ever added to it.”
Liam took a step forward, causing Malcolm to tense himself; the Lieutenant spoke. “So, for all the wrong you’ve done, it matters enough to you that a life is brought into the world?”
Malcolm teeth grinded, “My son…matters; to me. That’s the fucking end of it. All my life and depictions have led me to him.”
Liam raise a finger, “And now the blood of more than sixty people will bring Connor back to you, is that it?”
Malcolm stood and was eye level with Liam. “McElroy is paying off the favors he owes me…My wife and my child will NOT ride out the Undead in a goddamn city, nor is Meryl going to work in any plague-ridden clinic! If he doesn’t want me to go AWOL, he’s weaseling them onto the first plane and bringing them to this carrier.”
Liam didn’t need to shake his head because Malcolm could sense the disapproval beneath the smile. “...Meryl left you dude. What makes you think she’ll appreciate you fishing her out the country to start again on a cramped boat?”
“Because she looked through me…” Malcolm’s voice croaked.
Liam let his jaw hang open in confidence, “No one here has ever really asked you about the burglar, but she did. You pulled it off with a stab wound, and everyone just says, ‘that makes sense?”
Malcolm punched Liam in the nose; the Lieutenant recoiled with both hands cupping his face and no change in the eyes. Malcolm panted before gathering himself. “I kept my son safe from a degenerate…and it was the easiest kill of my life. Maybe that makes me insane, but far as I can tell? I’m also the most well-fucking equipped to protect my family!”
Liam slowly lowered his hands and there was no bruise on his nose. His smile continued, “Let's be clear, they’re not your family anymore; Meryl has her family and Connor is with them.”
Malcolm seethed. “I’ll hijack this whole fleet if McElroy doesn’t fall through.”
“Come now, Malcolm. You’d become a pirate?” Liam laughed. “Think you’ll go to war with the New Orleans garrison for family’s sake?”
“No.” Malcolm’s voice became shrill and hollow. “…I’ll gut McElroy for lying to me. On fucking principle.”
Liam shook his head. “It’ll be the end of you.”
To that, Malcolm smiled again. “It’s the end of everything.”
Liam gave a slow nod. “So what are you going to do until then?”
Malcolm rubbed the stubble of his face as he pushed Liam aside. He stepped to the bunk, then looked at Liam again. “You’re the first subordinate who…challenges me...I like that. Clairet? I can code-talk with. Kenny? He does what I say. Daniels couldn’t take staring into the abyss...Javier..." Malcolm almost trailed off. "...But then there’s you, who called me a ‘Murderer’ and yet you never snitched to the Brass. I want to know why.”
Liam’s smile vanished, but his eyes held the same pleasant expression. “People either shun or shoot what they don’t want to understand. I must believe that seeing on the same level with them is where the breakthrough lies.”
Malcolm nodded. “And what makes you want to understand me?”
“Because you’re still, unfortunately, Human.”
Malcolm pointed. “And you’re an idealist with thick skin, Piper. That’s why I’m making you my new Captain.”
Liam seemed stunned. “I haven’t officially been placed under your command.”
“Bravo Company lost too many officers so your boys may be getting distrbuted throughout the regiment.You’re officially my C.O. in November Company. Thank me later or never; get out there and do what you will with the vacancies, starting with youir new X.O. I’m sleeping off a day’s worth of questions.”
Liam cocked his head.
“And don’t get used to sleeping in here.” Malcolm spoke as Liam began to exit. “My family will need to room in here; so, understand that when you’re sleeping the next hatch over.” Malcolm turned to lay flat on the mattress, caring not to cover himself in sheets for a nap. His eyes were closed, yet the hatch never opened. The hum of the air orchestrated the silence between him and Liam.
“You’ll never see them again, Malcolm.”
Malcolm’s closed eyes fowled at the words, yet he chose to let them go. As Malcolm drifted into sleep, his final thought was that the hatch was still not opening.