Zombie Theorem (Book 4): Aces Mortis Page 4

  “Holy fuck!” Chun blew out. He looked up to Dio with wide eyes and nodded his thanks. Dio mirrored his nod back to him and busied himself cleaning the massive knife on Chuck’s shirt.

  “I sure am glad you ignored my orders and still carry that mini sword with you,” Butch informed him.

  “Told you, my daddy gave it to me when I was thirteen, right before he died. It has saved the day, and my life a couple of times,” Dio sheathed the knife at the scabbard he kept on his belt.

  Lupo stood with his back to everyone, watching the street and buildings for movement. “This place is freaking me out, like that time we were in that shit little town in Afghanistan. All was quiet and we were moving well until it wasn’t. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you guys of that shit show,” Butch turned and gave him a look.

  “I read that,” Butch turned to the dead form of Chuck and hunched his shoulders as if to say ‘Fuck it’. He moved forward and grabbed the man’s legs and dragged him into the store.

  Once the men had entered, Lupo shut the door and twisted the lock closed. He then motioned to Dio to help him drag a large cardboard display advertising a new paint scheme for ARs and handguns. The women on the front wore a pink camouflage bikini and held a big .45 Desert Eagle painted to match her outfit. Dio stared at the woman for a while and got this glazed look in his eyes.

  “If you need some time with her just let us know man. I think we can spare you the four minutes you need to seduce her and get your jollies off. But do you mind waiting until we sweep the store of tangos first?” Chun stood there with a big smile on his face.

  “I need more than four minutes, Lt.”

  “Since when?” Chun punched Butch in his shoulder. “Hey Master Chief, what was the name of that lady boy in Thailand?”

  “Oh you mean Suckie, Suckie? I don’t remember her name. Dio you spent the most time with she/he, do you remember?” Butch tapped the side of his head as if trying to remember something.

  Dio flipped him off and shook his head. “Her name was Carla, and I didn’t know she was a he until its bulge in its pants was pressed into my thigh. It was Blakk who had made out with it and bought it drinks all night.” He let out a laugh and then stopped when the realization that Blakk was no longer with them.

  A loud crash from the back of the store stopped all reflection and conversation. Chun made hand signals directing Butch and Lupo to clear the left side of the store as Dio and Chun cleared the right side. Butch and Lupo slipped away quietly, drawing their bladed weapons as they moved. Lupo took point and they traded off as each aisle was cleared. Along the way, they stopped and took two collapsible steel batons from a display and flicked them out to their full dangerous length. Both men ignored their fear as they had been taught and compartmentalized the situation. They let their training take over and moved by the book, leap frogging each other and following the tactics they had proven successful in hundreds of real world missions.

  Butch stopped mid step when the shelves next to him disappeared and he found himself staring into a caged back room. He waved Lupo forward who appeared quickly at his side. They both stood there in awe over what they were seeing.

  “Chief, what the hell is mesmerizing you and Lupo?” Chun asked from the end of the aisle.

  “You got to check this shit out, Lt,” Butch raised his finger and pointed into the cage in front of him.

  Chun came down the aisle with Dio close on his heels and stopped when he witnessed the same thing that had frozen Butch and Lupo. “Well ain’t that a fucking site to see,” Chun whispered.

  All four men stood staring at two rows of metal shelves full of military grade M4s lined up in rows. They moved quickly as one down the aisle they found themselves in and made a bee line to the thick steel door set into a braced wall of the cage. Dio reached out and tried the door handle only to find the door stubbornly locked. As he was about to let go, the door shook hard and he stepped back, almost tripping over Lupo’s size thirteen boots. Butch reached out and steadied him.

  “Okay, so the door is locked and guarded by one of those un-dead,” Lupo scratched his head and cocked his head to the side while thinking. “Or would that be re-dead? Whatever the fucking right verbiage or word is, we are going to have problems getting into that fucking treasure chest of weapons and hurt,” he shook his head upset with the scene.

  Butch dropped his pack off his back, snapped his fingers and rummaged around for a little bit, pulling something small out, a big smile painted on his lips. “I got something that will open that gate with no problems,” he showed the group a small block of off-white the resembled clay.

  Chun’s eyes went wide when he identified it. “Where the hell did you come up with that?”

  Butch rolled the clay looking material and divided it into three. With two of the pieces he pressed them against the hinges of the door and the last piece in the lock of the door itself. He then removed a small box of wires with little probes attached to them. He pushed them into the clay and threaded the wires down and together.

  “Wait, if there are any more of those dead flesh eating things out there the explosion will bring them towards us. Semtex tends to make a pretty loud sound when it goes boom!” Lupo explained.

  Chun clapped his hand and disappeared into the store. He came back a couple of minutes later dragging three thick sleeping pads with him. “Place these against the hinges and door lock and it should keep the sound down. Not perfect but should buy us some time,” Lupo and Dio grabbed the pads and positioned them smartly using packing tape they found by the cash register, to keep them in place.

  Chun nodded his head with his approval of the makeshift plan and threw the bird to Butch, who ducked behind the nearby counter and activated the trigger switch. The concussive punch from the explosion blew the heavy steel door inward, crushing the zombie behind it against the shelves holding some of the precious M4s. The sound was dampered but still enough to make a racket. Dio and Lupo didn’t waste a second as they rushed into the cage. Lupo leaned down and finished off the crushed zombie with his blade and a carefully aimed thrust into the thing’s crushed eye socket. By the time Butch and Chun made entrance, Dio had snatched up an M4 and looked like he definitely needed some alone time with the weapon.

  “Master Chief, make sure we take as much ammo as we can carry. I want a selection of calibers. Some of us still carry our toys,” Butch sketched a small salute and snagged two large duffel bags from a shelf and moved off to fill them up from the impressive collection of ammo off a far wall. Chun checked his watch and radioed up to Hashkeh. “Perch, this is six. Over,” he depressed his switch and waited for the report.

  “Six, Perch, wait one. Over.” Pico radioed over. Butch stopped his ministrations as he brought his free hand to his earpiece and waited for the return call. Dio and Lupo did what good soldiers did. They kitted up and started stuffing bags with all kinds and types of weapons. They paid very close attention to a large crate of M4 magazines. The radio came to life again after two very long excruciating minutes. “Six, Perch. Here’s the skinny, Sir. Looks like Rascal and Hootie really want to go back to school, cause they just GTA’d an honest to God real yellow school bus, and they must think you guys are special cause they stole the short bus. Your area seems quiet and clear, but that bus is making some pretty good sound. Over.”

  Chun called back. “Goddamn it! Hootie, Rascal, keep that damn bus out of the area until we are ready for you. Last thing we want is to be swarmed while hanging out in the breeze with our swinging dicks! You are like a fucking dinner bell! You couldn’t find a fucking truck you pus nutted blister covered slimy ball sack!”

  Butch smiled at the elaborate dressing down Chun was giving the men. “Uhm roger all, Sir. Quick question. Are we dropping the whole Military etiquette on the radio? Over.” Hootie radioed back.

  “Fuck that boy has balls,” whispered Dio with a snort.

  “I’m going to land on you boy with both boots and I’m going to be carrying a big titt
ed rotten puss filled zombie bitch, and laugh as she tears your little dick off and dines on your balls,” Chun shook his head in irritation then laughed out loud. “Over, asshole!”

  “Got that, Sir. Hootie is begging for your forgiveness, Sir. We will swing by the fuel depot by the bus yard and top off the tanks and wait for you to call on us. Over,” Rascal called back.

  “Roger that, grab as much fuel as you can. And if possible, find some duct tape and wind it around Hootie’s head, covering his mouth. I think the Lt is going to gut that boy if he opens his mouth again. Over,” Butch called back. He looked over to Chun and found him smiling. They met eyes and rolled them knowing what each was thinking. They had all been a team for a long time and were used to each member’s oddities. Pico laughed over the radio and confirmed all.

  “Alright men, grab what we can and drag it to the front of the store and stack it to be loaded in our transport,” Chun quit talking as he stopped at a rack of bladed weapons. A short sword in the back of the group caught his attention. He slid his hand past most of the blades and grasped the hand and a half hilt of a Chinese sword called a Dadao. It's two feet of razor sharp iron blade glinted from the light coming in through the front doors. Chun had watched his adopted father practice with this same kind of sword. Chun himself knew the blade well, his father had taught him the art of the Wudang Sword. Which was the umbrella term for all forms of sword fighting within the deadly arts his dad had instilled in him. Chun stepped back and checked his surroundings. Finding them clear, he swung the blade around him faster and faster until he was a blur of action, swinging his arm out and getting used to this blade. He stopped just as he sliced the sword’s blade through a wooden coat rack that happened to be in his way. Chun, brought the sword in front of him and bowed to it. His father always said every blade was imbued by an ancient spirit that gave it its effectiveness. Chun honored this spirit now and silently thanked his father for all his love and teachings.

  Butch, Dio, and Lupo stood nearby, golf clapping Chun’s little exhibition. Chun bowed back to them but when he straightened back up, he wore a wicked smile and displayed two birds for the men. “Grab your choice of blade and one for the boys outside. These things don’t run out of ammo, just stamina. Great for silent kills,” Chun eyed the five oversized canvas duffel bags laying by the door and approved of their quickness. He removed his trusty .45 1911 from his chest rig and made his way over to the left-over rounds on the shelf in the back of the cage, as the rest of the men dug through the bladed weapons. He dropped the magazine and thumbed out the stupid Simm ammo he was forced to carry and loaded up the real stuff. He slammed the mag home, pulled back the slide, inserting a round into the chamber and then released the mag and replaced the used round. He slid the gun back into its home on his chest rig and then repeated the actions on the M4 he had grabbed from the shelf. He was now loaded up and ready to kill something. He felt complete, he felt like the warrior he was trained to be, and leader of his own merry band of patriots and probably the most dangerous men left in the world.

  They picked the place as clean as they could and stacked together near the door watching over the square out front. Butch activated his radio, “Hootie, get your ass over to the square. We need a ride. Over,” Butch stepped out into the street and used his training to scan the buildings and street around them.

  “Roger, Chief. But we only accept Ass, Grass, or Cash as payment. Over,” Hootie called back.

  “No problem, I will find my own transport and keep all these pretty weapons and thousands of rounds to ourselves. Over, asshole!”

  “Uhm. We changed our mind, Chief. On our way! Should we pick up Hashkeh and Pico first? Over.” Hootie called over.

  Chun broke in. “Not yet. We will grab them on the way out. An eye in the sky might help right now. Over.”

  Lupo and Dio stepped out into the street and faced in opposite directions as Butch covered the park across the street. Each had their weapons up and ready to fire. Chun stood next to the bags and swept his attention back and forth to the store, his Dadao in his hands while his new M4 hung from its strap. Five minutes passed until they heard the revving sound of the bus coming from the north. The sound started to bounce off the buildings surrounding them. Chun had a feeling this was about to go from bad to worse in a ‘New York’ minute. He turned and watched the buildings around them.

  Just as the bus came around the corner on the other side of the park, glass could be heard breaking from around the buildings in the square. “Fuck,” Chun swore under his breath. “Eyes up, we are about to be surrounded,” Chun clicked on his radio, “You better hurry the fuck up and get the doors open. We are about to know how Custer felt in a second!” He brought his sword up and swung to the right, slicing the top off a zombie woman’s head as she moved quicker than most of them, coming out of the hair salon next door to the gun store.

  Butch kept his attention on his sector and knew his boys would be doing the same thing. Fire discipline was entrenched deep in these men, it had saved their lives countless times. The bus picked up speed and roared around a corner sideways and threatened to roll over but at the last second righted itself. It slid to a stop a foot from an unblinking Butch, Rascal bolted from the door and grabbed the bags, hefting them with his muscular frame and tossed them aboard the bus. Hootie busied himself sliding the bags down the aisle, keeping one eye out the front window of the bus and the slow shambling forms breaking out into the street from their prisons of commercial real estate. Butch watched as movement came from the park and gauged distances. The last thing he wanted to do was waste their precious ammo. If they could get loaded and moving without having to fire a shot, then the better for them.

  A hand squeezed his shoulder and he climbed to his feet staying hunched over and rifle squarely aimed, still covering his sector. “All aboard Master Chief before we leave your ass,” Hootie hooted from the driver’s seat of the bus.

  Butch checked his area and found himself to be the last one still outside the bus. He climbed aboard and Hootie closed the accordion like doors and tossed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating Butch to sit down. He did so and Hootie revved the engine and slammed into two shambling forms that had made it to the front of the bus. Hootie drove the bus like he was Jezzer from the Amazon TV show Grand Tour. “More power!” he yelled out loud as he got the bus to actually drift around the corner and pointed the grill of the bus to collect Hashkeh and Pico.

  “You do know Hootie, that these puss bags move slowly right? I don’t think you need to drive like an asshole,” Butch reached out and smacked Hootie across the back of the head.

  Hootie slowed down once they left the middle of town behind and positioned the bus in the middle of the road. They drove on for another five minutes taking different roads to shake the small horde following them. They came around the corner and found Hashkeh and Pico standing in the middle of the road. Pico’s thumb sticking out like a hitchhiker. Hootie stomped on the brakes, locking them up and sliding the bus to a stop just inches from Hashkeh’s unmoving form. The two came around to the side of the bus as Hootie opened the door by pulling the handle by his seat. “Welcome aboard the short bus! Please stay behind the yellow line and in your seat. The stewardess will be by shortly with snacks and refreshments. And thank you for choosing Hootie’s magical bus!” He smiled and waved at the men as they boarded.

  Hashkeh stood by the seat, staring down at Hootie with a blank look written on his face. Hootie sat there staring back at him, meeting his eyes. “I believe you are in my seat, Hootie. You might want to move before I move you,” Hashkeh crossed his massive arms and grunted deeply.

  Hootie sat there for another five seconds then vacated the seat quickly and skulked down the aisle and took a seat next to Lupo. Who was trying to hide a mile-wide smile behind his hand. Hashkeh slid into the driver’s seat and adjusted it to fit his massive frame. He changed gears and eased the bus down the street and away from the approaching horde.

  Butch ordered Ha
shkeh to head toward San Diego, their ultimate destination, and to stay off major roads and away from towns. Butch sat next to Chun and they discussed ideas and what they thought was happening. The rest of the team spent their time loading magazines and inventorying the weapons and breaking them down, giving them a quick clean and oil. The bus rumbled out of town and down a back road that paralleled the highway heading West into California and ending near the city of Los Angeles. They stopped to get fuel from broken down cars and gas stations. Every time they stopped, the team would enforce a tight schedule and range out to protect the bus and Hashkeh. They found nothing but dead and rampage everywhere they looked. The little stores they stopped at were stripped almost bare and when food did exist, it was a mess of blood and gore. Being the well-trained force they were though, they would adapt and overcome. Hashkeh and Lupo took turns ranging out and finding animals that they would slaughter and bring back enough meat for everyone. They tried to not stay too long when they stopped and took turns sleeping in the bus and swapping drivers. Hootie though, was banned by Butch to touch the steering wheel and instead sat in the back bitching and whining about how unfair it was. Chun threatened to duct tape him to a seat and shove a pair of Lupo’s sweaty socks into his mouth as a gag if he didn’t shut his pie hole. That finally got through as he pursed his lips and sat in silence.