The Zero Dog War (22 page)

Chapter Twenty: The Fugitive Undead

Mercenary Wing Rv6-4 “Zero Dogs”

Zero Dog Compound

Kitchen

1111 Hours PST April 19th

We got a small hit on the third day after the failed assault on the plant. Two morgues had been emptied of corpses in the middle of the night. A witness reported seeing a school bus in the area. Another crime report mentioned an eyewitness sighting of a bus in relation to a burglary at a local fire department. Also, the Audi the cops had confiscated had gone missing from impound, and nobody knew anything about it.

I’d been on the phone all morning with the police department and our liaison with the Hellfrost Merc Group about the progress of the manhunt. I’d been boiling over with frustration by the end, and had rushed to the dojo to work off some steam. No Jake this time. I hadn’t seen him all morning. I worked through an entire range of kata, pushing myself hard through the stylized dance of kicks and strikes. When I finished I was tired and I stank, but I’d achieved a sort of endorphin peace with the universe.

Which lasted all of fifteen minutes.

Jake found me on the way to the kitchen and his expression was all business. “I’ve been looking for you. We have a problem.”

Nothing about our little intimate chat a couple days ago, not even a conspirator glance. If the word
problem
hadn’t immediately buzz-killed everything else in my mind, I might’ve been irked.

“What problem?” The scope of that particular word in my world stretched wider than the Pacific Ocean.

“Best you hear it for yourself.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We have a phone conference with Harker from Homeland Security in ten minutes.”

Shit. Not even time to take a shower. “I’m not ready—”

“Andrea, I’m sorry.” He turned and walked away, his words echoing in my mind.

I watched his wide back retreat down the hallway. My heart hit hard against my rib cage, like a fist slamming a wall over and over again. A ringing echoed in my ears and my mouth tasted like the inside of a copper pipe.

A thousand problematic possibilities flashed through my mind almost too fast to comprehend. We’d been indicted for war crimes. We’d been sued…again. Rafe had been arrested and the government didn’t want negative publicity. Angels had come to murder Sarge. Squeegee was behind on her shots. Tiffany had run away to the Bunny Ranch in Nevada and blamed me for everything. Gavin had actually sold one of his terrible books. Stefan had bitten somebody without permission and would be defanged. The SPCA had shown up about Mai Tanaka’s furry army. Foreclosure. Zombie outbreaks. Fire and apocalypse and no internet service.

Jake. Leaving me.

I hurried after him, but the strongest feeling of disconnection rolled through me, as if I were only a passenger along for the ride in a body I’d once controlled. Damn, I was stupid. Why should that last mean more to me than a zombie outbreak? I’d known this would happen. Fucking hormones. The fucking
love me
instinct, always reaching out to another warm body. I’d known my feelings for him, in whatever infantile romantic stage they existed, would interfere with my ability to see with clarity and to stay a decisive leader. I’d lost discernment. I’d failed.

Inside the conference room, Jake stood near one of the large windows with his back to me, staring out at the training grounds. He didn’t turn when I entered.

“What is this about?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“Wait for the call.”

I bit back a savage reply and sat. The leather chair felt sticky against my sweaty skin. Heat radiated off me. I stared at the strange tripod-shaped speakerphone in the middle of the desk with its tentacles of microphones and waited.

The phone rang. I put it on speakerphone. “This is Captain Walker.”

“Greetings, Captain Walker,” Harker said. “I assume Captain Sanders is with you.”

“I’m here, sir.”

“Good. I have pressing news and not much time to give it. The Department of Homeland Security is altering the contract with the Zero Dogs of Merc Wing Rv6-4.”

“Altering? We have a contract. You can’t alter it.”

“We’re the government. We most certainly
can
modify arrangements.”

My stomach twisted like a wrung-out dishrag. “What’s the change?”

“Effective immediately, Captain Sanders will take over as commanding officer on this mission until the primary objective is achieved. Based upon reviews by our analysts, and based upon recent developments in the theater of war, we’ve decided it may be more…
efficient
to have the operational unit under direct military control. Merc group Rv6-4 will report to Captain Sanders from here on out.”

I made a sound—some kind of strangled gasp. Stabbing me in the heart with an icicle would’ve been kinder. “You can’t be serious. This is some kind of stupid joke.”

“Once again, Captain Walker, I assure you, I’m from the government, and we do not joke.”

“This makes no sense. We have a line on this necromancer now—”

“Please save your questions and…
disagreements
for the end, Captain Walker. I think this would be best done as a clean severance, don’t you?” He continued before I could spit out an answer. “Besides, you and the rest of the unit will still be handsomely paid, as per our contract.” Amusement festered beneath his voice. Amusement and a smattering of contempt. The bastard.

“This isn’t about the money,” I said. “Not anymore. This guy hurt my people. He’s a threat to America.”

Gentle laughter. “Yes, Hansen’s the threat du jour, yet he’s just one of many that we must consider when allocating resources and assigning threat levels. I have utmost confidence that, free from other constraints, Special Forces Captain Sanders will prosecute this mission to its successful completion.”

I looked at Jake. A muscle twitched in my throat—a spasm that felt like someone had shoved a soldering iron into my neck. “You knew about this?”

He turned away from the window and held my gaze. His face was grim, strained. “Not about me taking over. I got a call on my cell thirty minutes ago from my colonel telling me there’d been new developments and setting up this conference. Nothing more.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I could hear the rush of blood in my ears. Everything had a surreal cast to it.

Harker continued. “We will, of course, give glowing references regarding our work with Rv6-4 and your leadership role to your superiors, Captain Walker. After all, thanks to your efforts, you rendered the gelatin factory inoperable and you saved the American consumer from the threat of tainted food products. No small victory these days.”

I stared at the phone. I’d been right from very beginning. Jake
had
been a threat to me. Despite all his words. Despite all his assurances. I’d been a fool to trust him, and a greater fool to let myself fall for him. Because that’s what it was—I’d fallen for him, turned my unprotected throat up to him, trusting, despite all my sound and fury to the contrary, and I simply hadn’t believed deep down this would ever happen. My hands trembled. I hid them beneath the table so he wouldn’t see. My stomach clenched again, and I had to fight the urge to throw up.

A long moment of quiet drew out. The open phone line hummed and buzzed.

“Sir, if I may speak freely.” Jake glared down at the conference phone, but he stood very still, as if holding himself in check from smashing the phone until nothing but broken plastic and wires remained.

“If you must.”

“Changing the command structure will seriously degrade this unit’s operational efficiency.” Jake paused and glanced at me, frowning. “This unit’s cohesion and overall morale are some of the highest I’ve ever seen, and that’s due to Captain Walker’s command. I don’t feel this change is the most effective approach to the situation and, in my judgment, it will impede a quick and successful outcome.”

I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak. I stared at the tabletop, its surface nicked in places, marked with slashes of black permanent marker in others. I bit down on the inside of my cheek so hard I could taste the blood.

Harker sounded annoyed. “Has the viability of this unit been compromised, Captain? Your report spoke of them in glowing terms. I expected you to be able to lead men and women you describe as consummate professionals.”

My mouth dropped open. I realized I had a stupid, amazed look plastered on my face but was helpless to stop it. From the instant I’d met Jake, I’d nursed the lingering suspicion that he didn’t respect my people, had looked down on them with a kind of patient, indulgent contempt. The fact that he
did
respect them, and the fact that he hadn’t even told me he’d praised us to his superiors, made it all the better. All the sweeter. In that moment I loved him. Fiercely.

“I stand by every one of those statements,” Jake said. “But I reiterate—in the strongest terms possible—replacing Captain Walker would have an immediate and severe effect on unit cohesion and morale, to the detriment of the mission.”

“I see,” Harker said. The silence spun out long enough to be uncomfortable.

My heart had crawled halfway up my trachea. I wanted to run to Jake, to kiss him, and then to kick him for not telling me he thought about us, about
me
in that way. Not feelings I was comfortable with at all—except for the kicking part. I hated myself for the almost childish gratefulness I felt toward him when he’d turned down his chance to steal away my people, the relief that he’d been speaking the truth when he’d said he wasn’t a threat—hated myself because
I
should’ve been the one slinging fire and grandstanding and raising my fist in defiance instead of sitting in a chair, staring at a phone, feeling shocked, weary and weak, feeling as if I’d just spent my summer vacation in the muddy trenches of WWI.

“Well, then,” Harker continued when it became clear no one else would speak. “Based on your recommendation, Captain Sanders, it seems it’s time for Plan B. I have a Delta Force team who just finished a hunt-and-kill mission on rogue batsquatch. I’ll redeploy them to Portland and have them take over the investigation with support from the FBI. You’ll end your force multiplier role with Rv6-4, attach yourself to the Delta team, and integrate your knowledge of the necromancer’s tactics and current capabilities into the assault and capture phase.”

“Sir,” Jake said quickly, “switching assets mid operation isn’t—”

“You have your orders, Captain Sanders, and I expect them to be followed. You are reassigned. I’ll send transportation to retrieve you.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said through clenched teeth.

Harker wasn’t finished. “Captain Walker, it seems your men and women must think extremely highly of you if Captain Sanders believes you should remain at the helm. However, since this mission has changed from an assault to a manhunt, and since the Delta teams are better suited and better trained for search and destroy, I’m certain you understand our switching primary operators on this mission doesn’t reflect on your leadership or the performance of your people in any way.”

“And that’s why you revoked my command, right?”

“It was a suggested lateral move. No insult intended. A matter of efficiency only.”

I clenched my fists but didn’t answer. We needed the money. I had to keep that in mind. I couldn’t afford to burn bridges and throw tantrums…but damn it was hard to be adult about it.

“I believe we’ve covered everything necessary,” Harker said. “A car will be coming for you shortly, Captain Sanders.” A pause. “Thank you for your service to your country, Captain Walker. Good day.”

Dial tone. I reached out and disconnected the phone, and then my hand fell flat to the tabletop and lay there like a dead spider.

“I’m sorry,” Jake said. He didn’t move toward me.

Such a riot of thoughts and confusion exploded in my mind that I had to close my eyes. My flash of love for him had been swept under by bewildered hurt. Part of me had expected him to stay here with us and not go off after the necromancer without me. I don’t know what I’d imagined he’d do—insubordination, retire his command? Stupid and unrealistic. The rational part of me
knew
it. And still…

“It was all for nothing,” I said. “And now you’re going.”

“Yes, I’m going, but it wasn’t all for nothing.”

“Anything for the mission, right? Even throwing me over.”

“I’m a soldier. I have duties—”

“
Fuck
your duties.” The words cut me, no doubt far deeper than they cut him. Yet, I’d said them anyway.

He didn’t reply.

“Get out.”

He didn’t move. He watched me with those intense dark green eyes and an expression I couldn’t read.

“Get
out
!” I slammed my fist into the table. The phone jumped. The handset fell off and the dial tone began its heedless, unwavering scream.

He walked past me. I stared at my fist, feeling the needles of pain along my knuckles. Enjoying the pain more than I should have, because it hurt less than the pain inside my mind.

He paused at the doorway and looked back. “I’m sorry.”