Nasty Little F___ers-Kindle (12 page)

“Bock again?” Colby asked, exhaling another cloud of smoke.

“Nope,” Edison replied. “This stuff’s mine. It’s Crown.”

Colby took the flask and downed a swallow. The liquor burned a path down his throat and into his belly. It seemed to clear away a few more cobwebs. He handed the flask back to Edison, who took another pull, capped it, and shoved it back into his pocket. He looked off in the direction of Janice’s tent.

“We were married, you know,” he said. “Janice and I.”

Colby’s mouth dropped open. Janice hadn’t mentioned that. “What?” he sputtered.

“It’s true,” Edison said. “Five years. Then I got an offer from Purdue, but she wanted to stay in Phoenix.” He shook his head. “We probably could have worked something out, but I felt like she should come with me, as it was a big opportunity. We fought for months, and eventually she got sick of it and called an attorney.

“I didn’t want to split up. I wanted to reconcile, but by then I was so pissed that I just went along with the divorce, knowing sooner or later she’d come to her senses and give in.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Colby asked.

Edison shook his head. “You should know.”

Colby didn’t reply. Had he and Janice been that obvious? Probably. It’s not like he had felt compelled to hide from a group of white-coated lab jockeys. Any discretion they exercised had come at Janice’s urging. At the time, he thought she didn’t want to come across as unprofessional to her colleagues, but now he wondered if maybe there was another reason. Edison must have hurt like hell as he watched, helpless, while the woman he loved made time with another man. He couldn’t even go anywhere to avoid them because the camp was too small, he’d been forced to sit and suffer.

Great.

The two men sat together, neither saying a word, each lost in their own thoughts. Colby realized he wasn’t the only person in the group fighting back personal demons; Edison had one clawing at his back, too, but his was fresher. Colby felt like a real asshole. Why hadn’t Janice told him? The answer was obvious; she didn’t tell him because she hadn’t planned on them being anything more than a fling. The thought stung him more than he wanted to admit.

“So what the fuck are they?” Edison asked, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Colby replied.

“The grubs. What are they? Are they a new species?”

“Beats me,” Colby replied. “Allen was our entomologist, and he’s gone.”

“He ran off, too, huh?”

Colby nodded.

Edison looked uncomfortable, his face reddened. He looked like he was about to say something. He opened his mouth to speak, but Colby cut him off.

“Fuck it,” Colby said. “You’re a scientist, not a soldier. You’d probably be dead right now if you’d stayed. Like Steinman.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any less like a cowardly bastard.” Edison replied.

Colby nodded. “I didn’t figure it would, but it is what it is. You can make up for it tonight, if you want.”

“How?”

“I need sleep. Take this pistol and shoot anything that comes into the camp. If it’s one of the guys, make them take off their shirts like I did you. The grubs are easy to spot. Wake me up in two hours; that ought to be enough. Can you do that?”

Edison nodded.

“Good. We are leaving first thing in the morning and hiking East toward Caribou. We need to get in range of one of the cell phone towers so we can call for help.”

“You got it,” Edison said.

Colby smiled. Too tired to be grateful, and turned his back to the scientist. He walked to his tent and grabbed the flap. Just as he was about to step inside, he turned and saw Edison holding the gun in his hands and staring at it in the flickering firelight. The man looked worried, which Colby supposed was normal, given the circumstances. Still…

“I mean it, Edison. Shoot anyone who comes into the camp. If you can’t do it, then just scream real loud and I’ll take care of it.” He patted the rifle slung over his shoulder, hoping Edison caught his meaning.

“I got it, Sarge. That’s not what’s bugging me.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s the satellite phone thing.”

“What about it?”

Edison turned in his seat to face Colby. He looked worried, afraid, and even a little angry. “You said you asked Anzer for a sat phone, right?”

“Yeah,” Colby replied. “He wouldn’t give us one, though. Too bad, too, we could sure use it right now.”

“Exactly. This operation was scheduled to go into the most remote section of Northern Maine, an area that doesn’t have cell phone coverage for miles and miles. But Anzer sent a state-chartered expedition into the woods without any means of contacting the outside. Why would he do that?”

Colby shrugged. “He said it was too expensive.”

“Have you ever heard of such a thing? A basic tool like that, too expensive to justify bringing it along on a state-sponsored job?”

Colby thought a moment. “No,” he finally said. “No I haven’t. I thought it was odd, too.”

“And since when did you know Anzer to skimp on supplies? Normally he overstocks just to be safe and to pad his budget.”

“That’s true.”

“So why didn’t he give us a sat phone when you asked for it?”

Colby didn’t have an answer. He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s a damn good question, Edison.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.” Edison looked across the fire at Colby, pistol still in hand, and Colby saw the anger flare up in his eyes. The orange glow of the fire reflected in them like twin pools of lava, giving the scientist an almost surreal look. “I’m going to find out when we get back, though.”

Colby nodded. “I’ll help you.”

The two men stared at each other for another thirty seconds or so, and then Colby ducked under the tent flap and crawled inside. No need to zip it; it’d be better if it stayed open, just in case he had to jump out in a hurry.

He lay down on his sleeping bag and thought for a while about Edison’s point. Just why the hell
did
Anzer send them out without a safety net? The fucker was responsible for several deaths that could have been prevented if only they’d been able to call for help. Colby looked forward to seeing the scrawny Director again. He had a few choice words to give him, and he’d deliver them right after he beat the living shit out of the little bastard.

***

Moretz swore under his breath. How had he missed Edison walking up to the camp? He should have been on that guy like flies on shit, but instead Edison somehow slipped right by him and now sat at the table holding Sarge’s gun. Edison didn’t look happy, either. He looked like a man so close to the edge it would take very little to push him over.

Shoot anything that comes into the camp,
Sarge had told him.
If it’s one of the guys, make him take his shirt off like I did you
. Sarge had said this much louder than the rest of their conversation, and Moretz recalled the sweeping gesture he’d made with his hands as he said it. Encompassing the entire camp and finally pointing right at the spot where Moretz sat waiting. Coincidence, maybe?

Bullshit! Sarge knew. The fucker! He knew! Moretz even wondered if the crafty ex marine was only faking falling asleep at the table, trying to lure Moretz out into the open. Just like him to be so sneaky, and Moretz almost fell for it, too. If Edison hadn’t shown up when he did, Moretz would have walked into the campsite, and likely would now be lying dead on the ground in a big puddle of his own blood.

Lucky for him Edison got there when he did. He guessed he owed him his life. Moretz would have to repay him for that once Sarge was taken care of. But how?

He knew the best way would be a quick, painless death, rather than the slow, agonizing one he planned for Sarge, but damn if that didn’t seem to take all the fun out of it.
Ah, well, a debt is a debt,
he thought. He turned to face Allen and almost screamed when he saw Bock standing there with half his face torn away. Grubs crawled up and down the length of his body, including a few inside the skull, wriggling around in what was left of the biologist’s oozing brain matter.

A few steps behind him, Steinman fidgeted, hopping from one leg to another. His chest shone an eerie red in the moonlight from the bullet hole through it. The red stain covered almost the whole shirt, making it a stiff, rust-colored mess. Like Bock, grubs covered his entire body, wriggling along his limbs and chewing into the flesh of his arms, chest, and legs. He could see the man’s shirt pulsating with them as they roved the parts of his body still covered by his clothes. Steinman’s face was half gone, and while Moretz watched, a grub poked through his right cheek and dove back into the flesh just under his eye. Steinman didn’t seem to feel it.

Fascinating.

Moretz looked at his own arm, which remained free of grubs. The only grub on him was the one behind his neck, and he barely felt that one. Allen was the same way. One grub instead of an army of them. He couldn’t help but wonder why. Was it because they were dead and he wasn’t? Probably, but he thought there was more to it than that.

He looked for Allen and saw him standing about twenty yards back in the woods, looking behind him. Moretz walked around Bock and Steinman and stepped over to Allen. To his surprise Bock and Steinman followed him, but thankfully they made very little noise as they went. Somehow, even though they were both dead, they knew they needed to be quiet.

“Well,” Moretz said when he reached Allen. “Now what?”

“Now we wait,” Allen replied.

“For what?” Moretz’s stomach rumbled. Damn, he was hungry.

“For them to leave. It’ll be easier to get to them when they are scattered along a trail than when they are holed up and armed.”

“They’ll still be armed tomorrow,” Moretz pointed out.

“We’ll just have to make them use up their bullets, then.” Allen winked, and gestured toward Bock and Steinman, who stood silently behind Moretz.

Moretz looked at the two dead men and then back to Allen. “How many shots can they take? They might not make it through the night as it is.”

“They’ll make it. And as long as they are quick enough, they won’t have to take many shots at all. Once Sarge and Edison are out of rounds, we’ll just send Bock and Steinman to give them a hug.”

Moretz nodded. Using Bock and Steiman to draw fire sounded like a good idea, but it would only work if the two were still mobile in two hours. Judging by the rate at which the grubs were feeding, that might not be a certainty.

No sooner did he have the thought than the grubs slowed their ravenous eating, then stopped altogether. Bock and Steinman slumped, then sat with their backs against a tree. If Moretz didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were sleeping.

“See? They’ll be ready,” Allen said.

Moretz looked from the two dead men to Allen, and couldn’t help but smile. Yes, they would be ready for action tomorrow. He nodded.

“What are we going to do with Edison, Sarge, and Janice?” he asked.

“We need Edison and Janice. They’re like us. Smart.” Allen replied.

“And Sarge?”

“We can use him, too.” Allen replied. Moretz bit back a retort until he noticed the smile on Allen’s face. Allen pointed to Bock and Steinman, and Moretz understood.

Bock and Steinman wouldn’t last long into the day; they’d need a replacement. Sarge would do nicely.

Of course, they would have to kill him first.

Chapter Fifteen

Colby awoke to the smell of breakfast. Somewhere outside his tent, bacon and eggs sizzled, filling the air with the tantalizing scent of frying, artery-clogging goodness. His mouth watered and his stomach grumbled, reminding him that all he’d eaten the past two days was a few handfuls of beef jerky. The smell of the bacon wafted into his tent and pulled him from his sleeping bag. He hefted the rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and poured himself through the tent flap into the open air.

In the center of the clearing, Edison squatted next to a fire, poking at strips of bacon that spat and hissed in a lightweight steel skillet. The skillet sat on a metal grate set a few inches above the fire. Colby recognized the grate as a piece of the folding barrier they’d brought along to put around the food tent, similar to a portable doggie pen. Useless, of course, as most of the food hung suspended from a nearby tree branch. The barrier was proof that most of the guys on the team had never spent the night in the woods. But the grate did make a handy little camp stove. Colby had to give Edison credit for his ingenuity; after weeks of using Sterno to heat everything, bacon frying in a pan smelled fucking fantastic!

To his left, Janice stepped out of her tent, rubbing her eyes and taking deep breaths.
Probably enjoying the smell as much as I am
, Colby thought. His suspicions were confirmed a few seconds later when she looked in Edison’s direction and her face split in a wide grin. She brought her hands to her belly, which Colby heard growling even from ten feet away. He chuckled at the sound.

“Is there enough for everyone, Edison?” he asked.

Edison whirled around, and almost fell into the dirt, but saved himself by planting his hand on the ground and dropping to one knee. His eyes were wide, and then they settled on Colby, and the tension seemed to melt away from his body. He smiled.