Brent Acuff - Undead Nation 03 (10 page)

Alex shrugged and remained in his cot. "And if I stand on camp policy?"

"Then we have been ordered to drag you there, kicking and screaming if necessary." Alex lay on his cot another moment before shrugging his shoulders.

"Looks like I'm coming with you gentlemen," he said getting up. "But if I'm infected, it's on your conscious."

"I think I can live with myself, sir," the soldier said, motioning for Alex to take the lead. The soldiers followed Alex out of quarantine and directed him to the left.
 

"Trust me," Alex said. "I know exactly where I'm going. Been there a few times." The soldiers continued following Alex as he led them expertly through the camp towards the commanders tent. Camp Tulsa's quarantine area was small and set far to the outskirts of the camp. Almost all of the survivor quarantines took place in the temporary camps set up during an extermination and rescue, so Tulsa's were left mostly vacant much of the time.

"Here we are," Alex said. He stood to the side and waived for his escorts to enter first. "After you." Neither of them laughed. A third soldier exited the commander's tent.

"Commander Travis is expecting you," he said to Alex and held the tent flap open for the man. Alex looked to his escorts, shrugged his shoulders and entered the tent.
 

Commander Travis sat behind his desk, head down, his black and gold fountain pen scratching furiously at the paperwork in front of him. The guard who allowed Alex access quietly cleared his throat. The commander looked up briefly, let out a humph, and set down his pen. He stood and removed his sidearm. Alex's carefree demeanor immediately changed.
 

"Corporeal, take this," Commander Travis said, handing the sidearm over to the guard. He took it and exited the tent leaving Alex alone with the commander. "Sit," Commander Travis said motioning to one of the chairs in front of his desk. The commander waited for Alex to sit before retaking his seat and returning to the paperwork on his desk.
 

Two minutes passed in silence as Commander Travis continued scratching away with his fountain pen. Alex sat quietly, becoming more and more impatient. After almost five minutes of this, Alex finally had had enough. "I'm sorry, sir, but just why..."

"You don't get to speak," Commander Travis said, his pen never stopping and never looking up. The two men returned to their silence until once more, Alex couldn't stand it.
 

"Excuse me, sir..."

"Shut up," Commander Travis said sternly. "I repeat, you don't get o speak." Alex returned to his forced silence, this time waiting until the commander had finished his paperwork.
 

Unposting the cap of the pen and meticulously screwing into place, the commander carefully set the ornate pen down at the top of his stack of paperwork. Folding his hands in front of him, Commander Travis finally looked at Alex.

"Explain yourself," Travis said, staring. Alex figured he knew what the commander was talking about, but tried to play dumb.
 

"I'm sorry," Alex said, shaking his head. "What do you mean?"

Commander Travis slammed his hands down on the desk and nearly launched himself across the desk at Alex. "You damn well know what I mean! Don't you, Alex Kemp?!" At the use of his real name, Alex's eyes went wide. He knew know, without a doubt, that they had been found out.
 

Alex stammered, trying to find words to help diffuse this situation. "I...I...I..." he said, unable to think straight.
 

"You are a fake, you and your whole team! Infiltrators. Traitors as far as I am concerned."

"I...I can explain," Alex stammered. His normally composed self withered in the fury of Commander Travis' anger.
 

"Explain?! Oh, this ought to be good," Travis said flopping back in his seat and propping his feet up on the desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, assuming the pose of one about to enjoy an interesting tale. "Please, enlighten me."

Alex sat wide eyed for a moment longer, composing this thoughts and trying to figure out exactly what he could say to get out of this mess. After a moment, he figured the truth couldn't hurt anymore than a lie. "Okay," he began, defeat edging his voice. "In a nutshell, our families were murdered, slaughtered by someone in the military, and we are trying to get close enough to him to get revenge."

Alex waited for Commander Travis to say something, but he continued to stare. "What?" he asked expecting the commander to say something.
 

"Bullshit," Travis said and continued staring at Alex.
 

Once more Alex waited in silence until he was uncomfortable. "I'm serious, sir. I was a member of the New Hope colony, founded in Eustace, TX. Eight months ago we were held hostage by a detachment of the US military, forced to go on a rescue mission, only to come back and find our families murdered." At the thought of these past events, Alex began to become angry. His face reddened and his fists clenched. "We are going to find the bastard that killed our families and get our revenge. He has my daughter...I am going to gut the son of a bitch!"

An sinister smile had spread across Commander Travis' face as Alex spoke. "That's a story I might believe," he said. "Anger like that? Only someone who had lived it could tell a story like that with that kind of anger. So tell me, who is the 'son of a bitch?'"

Alex paused for a minute, not sure how the commander would react to the revelation that it was General Hill. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Alex sighed. "General Jonathan Hill. He was Lieutenant Hill then."

"I'd believe that," Travis said quickly. Alex was visibly taken aback. "You're right, the man is a son of a bitch with a mean streak to boot."

"You do?" Alex asked, dismayed. "I...I..."

"You don't need to understand," the commander broke in. "But I have to know," and here Commander Travis sat forward in his chair, his eyes almost gleaming with excitement. "Just how the hell did you guys get to be so good at all this?"

Again Alex was taken aback. "Umm...so good at what?"

"Oh come on...this." Commander Travis waived his arms from side to side encompassing the entire camp. "All this. The Stryker teams, the training. Where did you learn it?"

"Well, sir. I'm ex-military."

"No kidding?" Commander Travis exclaimed. "What unit?"

Alex's face was screwed up in confusion. This was not the grilling he had expected from the commander. "Special forces, Neoguard."

"Really? I had always thought the Neoguard was a myth."

Alex shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm really confused. You don't seem to be upset by any of this. I don't understand."

Commander Travis chuckled. "Lieutenant...excuse me Alex, you seem to be under the impression that I don't like you. In fact, I admire you and your men. You are well trained, have the highest rescue and recovery record, and have turned this army in to one mean machine. I'm tough on my men, I'm tough on discipline, but I also respect a job well done."

Alex stared, dumbfounded. "I'm not sure what to say."

Commander Travis huffed. "Don't say much, Alex. I said I respect what you've done, but I didn't say you were just walking out of here." Alex's eyes went wide again. "Don't get all excited, it's nothing like that. You and your men are confined to the quarantine area. I won't allow such a blatant breach in security to go unpunished. Orders have already been sent to set up a large tent as a commons for you and your men, but you will be kept under guard until such time as a military tribunal can be formed. You are hereby relieved of all command." Travis stood and picked up the fountain pen laying on his desk. He tucked the pen in his breast pocket and looked Alex in the eye. Commander Travis held out his hand.
 

"I am grateful for all the service you and your men have given Camp Tulsa, this army, and the country." Alex took his time rising to his feet, not sure of what had just transpired. He shook the commander's hand once and turned to leave.
 

"Oh, and Alex," Travis said, stopping Alex in mid step. Travis held out an opened letter to Alex. "I believe this will be the last of the information you'll receive." Taking the proffered letter, Alex quickly read the contents.
 

"Your cover has been compromised. General Hill knows you're there. Can not stop chain of events. Get out now."

Alex rolled his eyes and crumpled the letter. Looking at the commander, he saw the man shrug his shoulders. "You are dismissed," he said, and Alex was escorted out of the commander's tent.

-----

"We're screwed, aren't we?" Liam stood watching men from Camp Tulsa erect a large tent in the middle of the quarantine area. He never turned to see if it was Alex approaching.

"So to speak," Alex replied, moving to stand next to Liam.

"So what did he say?"

"You'd never believe it. The man actually respects us. He even believes why we are doing what we're doing." Liam turned to face Alex, a frown spreading across his face.
 

"So why are we screwed?"

Alex smiled. "Because it's procedure. We infiltrated the army, and that deserves punishment."

Liam shook his head and turned back to the tent being erected. "What's this all about?"

"We are confined to the quarantine area until such time as a military tribunal can be convened." Alex looked at Liam concerned. "Liam, I don't think anyone plans on letting us live that long."

Liam turned back to Alex and agreed. "I think you're right, Alex. We need to figure out what we are going to do."

-----

"And just how do you suggest we do that?" Ronald said angrily. "We are surrounded by ten foot high fences, topped with razor wire. Not to mention the armed guards patrolling the perimeter."

The former Stryker team had convened in the large communal tent just after it was completed and the workers pitching it had left. There had been a heated debate going back and forth for almost two hours. The current argument concerned making an escape for the abandoned countryside.

"I'm not sure," Alex admitted, "but I'm pretty sure General Hill is not going to let us live to see that tribunal."

"We have a better chance against any military tribunal than we do, unarmed, making a break for it. We are dead men for sure if we try an escape." Heads nodded around the room in general agreement with Ronald.
 

"You can't seriously think that is the best option?" Theresa's voice dripped with venom. "Are you just going to give up? Give up on justice for your families, for my daughter, on the pipe dream that you'll get a fair trial?" Theresa looked from face to face, challenging anyone to disagree with her. Her eyes locked on Dr. Cahn's and she found her rival.

"I don't think that anyone here would disagree that we all have a right to exact justice for what happened to us. But Ronald is right. We are unarmed, held hostage in a guarded facility with no visible way out. We can, and will, be shot for making an escape. I don't like our odds, because I think Alex is right, too. General Hill, if he truly knows that we are here, is not going to let us have a voice."

Theresa's face was screwed up with rage. "You are a coward," she spat and stomped to the back of the tent.

"God damn," Luke said quietly. "She is pissed."

"With every right to be," Alex defended. "We have lost our only shot at getting the justice and revenge, that we deserve for our families."

"To hell with revenge," Ronald cut in. "We'll never have the chance if we..."

A cloud of red exploded from Ronald's chest, spraying everyone near him with the man's blood. Jenero cried out for a just a moment, grabbing at his right shoulder before his head snapped forward, the back of his skull a bloody mess. In the brief silence, the pop pop of suppressed gunfire could be heard outside the tent.

"Down!" Alex shouted and dove for the ground just as more bullets ripped through the tent. Alex looked up to see Phillip rolling on the floor, clutching his throat as blood sprayed between his fingers. Martin lay motionless in front of the tent opening, his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.

"What the hell is going on?!" The voice startled Alex, being yelled in his ear. Theresa had crawled across the floor next to him, covering her head as best she could.

"Assassins," Alex yelled. "I think Hill has come to finish the job."

The pop-pop of the rifles ceased and Alex and Theresa took the opportunity to crawl forward to the injured men. Phillip had stopped writhing on the floor and his eyes now mimicked those of the other three dead.
 

"We're sitting ducks in here," Theresa said, moving forward to check Ronald, despite the massive hole in his chest. The sound of approaching boots caught the survivors attention.

Donovan rolled close to Alex, silently pointing for the two of them to take positions on opposite sides of the tent opening. Donovan then motioned for everyone else to move as far back from the entrance as possible. The sounds of boots stopped briefly outside the tent, and the two men prepared to defend themselves.

The first black clad assassin swept through the tent flap, followed closely by a second. Donovan grabbed at the first's ankles while Alex did the same for the second. The first flailed in a desperate attempt to stop his downward momentum, in the process spinning himself around and squeezing the trigger of his rifle. The bullets ripped through the chest and neck of the third infantryman, spraying the next in line with blood and gore. The fourth stumbled backwards into the line of gunmen following behind. Their momentum stopped, the black clad gunmen struggled backwards out of the tent.

Donovan and Alex were atop their victims, striking at the men with fists. Alex wrestled the sidearm away from this assailant, quickly placing the barrel to the man's forehead. He squeezed the trigger.
 

A moment later, another gun fired, ripping through the masked face of the second gunman. Both gunmen now lay still, the blood quickly pooling around their lifeless bodies.