Orpheus: Homecoming (The Orpheus Trilogy Book 2) (13 page)

Tim deliberately delayed the go order and made everyone sweat a little more, just to see how they'd handle the additional stress. He stepped to the edge and looked down at the zombies. Their corrupted bodies had definitely robbed them of most of their zip. They couldn't run as fast, they couldn't jump as high. Their attempts to reach him fell pathetically short, their arms making long but impotent arcs through nothing but air, and still they tried again and again. They possessed the same relentless nature, but their physical tools had taken a huge hit due to time and decay. Even without the stabilizers, the Rhino would have been in no danger of being tipped.

They made more noise this time around. They still didn't groan, but each strenuous movement brought a gruesome crack, or snap, or tear. Tim had to keep himself from wincing.

Once, they were monsters. Now, he had time to recognize them for what they really were: tortured souls who needed peace. He'd been exactly one step away from joining them before he'd met Ethan and Rachel.

Speaking of whom...

Tim pulled a set of binoculars out of his cargo pocket and scanned his surroundings, the closest Rhino featured in the foreground. Tim focused and could make out a bunch of figures standing around, as his own charges were. In the center, another figure stood with arms outstretched to either side as if to say, "Are we doing this or what?"

When Tim finished laughing he said, "One rule: If you miss, that round better hit the ground." He advised Lena that they were ready to engage. He gave the order, and gunshots ruled the morning air.

As soon as the firing started, the tension seemed to go out of the group. The zombies stopped being undead people and just became targets. Sight, fire, finish, move on.

Simple.

It didn't take long to finish the first group of zombies. The bulk of their time was taken up after the smoke had cleared. The bodies had to be photographed, searched for any obvious ID, and dragged out of the way so the Rhino could proceed to the next destination. They also had to deal with the occasional stray, but the snipers stationed on the roof made sure they never got closer than a hundred yards. Tim heard grumbling from some of them about why they had to waste time with all of this, but he ignored it. Their blood was up, and they were ready for more. Also, if they couldn't already understand that these were people who deserved whatever dignity could be given them, people who had families who wanted closure, then it wouldn't be any use giving a speech, now would it? As long as they did the job, they could all go home safe.

Tino handed him a clipboard with the final tally and any information that they could glean from the dead. "We identified fourteen. I don't know if that's good or bad, but there it is."

"For the fourteen next of kin, it's both, I'd imagine."

Tino nodded. "Yeah." He actually sighed. "We're ready to move."

"The Rhino clear?"

The driver, Baylor, came through the door. "Yes, sir. Just finished my walkaround."

"Then let's hit it. No sense hanging around. Keep the ride smooth, I have to take a crap."

Tim walked to the head and shut the door behind him. He sat down on the closed lid and put his head in his hands.
It may be easier to kill them now, but it's so much harder to deal with.

Before, when it was only their small, tight-knit group, they didn't really think it about it much. They just moved from place to place, worried about nothing but their own survival.

Fear
, Tim thought,
does have its advantages.

He flushed to help maintain the illusion, splashed some water on his face, and rejoined the group. He was all business again, and the quartet of vehicles made slow but steady progress inland. Between them they had racked up over a hundred kills, even though they had only physically travelled less than two miles as the crow flies. There was plenty of down time for smoking, texting loved ones, or just shooting the shit.

"Zulu One, it's Lena."

"Go."

"What's your current status?"

"Ready to roll to the next location."

"Don't bother. Roll on back to base. Orpheus is calling it a day."

Tim checked his watch. They probably had an hour of daylight left, but with clean up and travel time, it'd be close. And he knew for a fact that his boss wasn't going to make anything "close" to darkness. "En route."

He settled in to his seat and reviewed the day's stats on the ride back. As first days went, it couldn't have been any better, especially given the object of the work.

Tino clapped him on the shoulder and said, "I don't know about you LT, but I need a drink."

Most everyone else had been in agreement with Tino's sentiment, and all but a few showed up at the Zom Shelter. Fish handled the music again, and both Ethan and Lena helped out behind the bar, for which Malone was grateful. "Man, I have got to train someone else how to tend bar. These guys don't even have the decency to stick to beer!"

Thompson and Hedley were there, as well. They mingled through the crowd and would occasionally stick the microphone and camera in front of a soldier to get his impression of the day's events. The responses ranged from the respectfully somber to near euphoria. How much of this was fueled by the alcohol was unknown, but it made for great soundbites either way. When Thompson signaled that they had enough, they dropped their equipment and joined in the fun.

Tim stayed mostly out of the way. With his friends otherwise occupied, it was solely his responsibility to make sure that nothing got out of hand. He couldn't help but make a mental note of a few faces he didn't see, but he wasn't surprised by any of them. At least one of them didn't drink at all, and the rest probably just wanted to rest after a long day.

The next morning, they organized for the daily briefing. When Orpheus walked in, Tim ordered them to attention, which they all did crisply. Orpheus put them at ease and took a clipboard from his son.

All but one.

Tim was horrified to see one soldier (Falcone by the nametape) looking like death warmed over. He was possessed of a sickly pallor, and Tim noticed that he was swaying slightly in place. Tim glanced over at Orpheus and saw that he was engaged in conversation with Ethan, who was smiling and apparently finishing up an anecdote. He took a risk and walked to Falcone's place in line, but Rachel had beaten him there. Tim caught the tail end of a one-way conversation, an unmistakable "... got to be shitting me." She was already instructing the men on either side of Falcone to brace him as best they could. Tim changed tactics and moved to where Orpheus was standing. He had just finished speaking with Ethan.

Tim had to buy Rachel a few more seconds. He honestly didn't care if Falcone got hemmed up for being stupid. But Tim knew that Orpheus would stick to his word and shut down the ZS, and that would suck for everyone. More than that, Tim had given his word that he would control it, and that had lasted for two whole days. Angry Orpheus was definitely the worst Orpheus, but Disappointed Orpheus ran a close second.

He positioned himself in an attempt to block Orpheus' sightline to Falcone, but he didn't know how successful that would be. The man was huge. "Hey, boss," Tim said

"What's up?"

"I just had a question."

An awkward silence hung for a moment.

"Is this a guessing game, Lieutenant?"

"No, I was just wondering ...”

Tim's lame attempt at distraction was interrupted by the worst sound he could possibly imagine, and he just dropped his head in defeat.

Falcone vomited.

Tim swung his head around in time to see the formation scattering to avoid the mess. In a movie, it would have been comical. But in reality, the only way it could have been worse was if someone like Iver Thompspn was filming it, which, of course, he was.

"Get the fuck back in formation! NOW!"

Angry Orpheus it was.

They reformed in a rush, and a few unfortunate soldiers were standing in hot sick, not that it seemed to matter at the moment. They stood in a nervous silence, all eyeballs unintentionally trained on Orpheus, who seemed to be deciding the best way to blow up. He glared at Falcone, who seemed unaware of it. He looked on the edge of collapse.

"You two," he pointed at the men on either side of Falcone, "get him out of here. I'll deal with you later, Falcone." They each grabbed Falcone by the upper arm and manhandled him out of the room. The closing door made the only sound in the room for a long moment.

"What did I say?" Orpheus drew out every word. "We just started the mission, and I already have to shut your bar down." He went into an extended monologue about danger and responsibility which was peppered with expletives. When he was done, he launched into the daily briefing without missing a beat. "We're going to get a late start this morning. You four. My office. Now." His lieutenants walked behind him at a reasonably safe distance. Fish was the last one in, and he shut the door as quietly as possible while Orpheus slid into his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead vigorously. The four of them stood at attention and waited.

Orpheus opened his eyes and said, "Oh, for Christ's sake, sit down." Ethan and Rachel took the couch while Fish and Tim took the supplicant's seats on the other side of the desk.

He began, "Do I even have to say anything else at this point?"

The four of them said no in one fashion or another.

"Falcone is gone. Get him out on the next available ferry."

Ethan said, "Understood."

"This will not happen again." A statement, not a question. "Now go handle your business. Be careful."

Tim stood up and moved to leave, but he turned around. "It's my fault. I was watching the crowd. Everyone else was busy."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Orpheus said.

"No, but ... I just never saw him getting lit like that. If I did, I would have stopped it."

"Well," Fish started, but thought better of it.

"What was that?" Orpheus asked.

"Probably nothing. But are we even sure that he was at the ZS last night? I watch everyone come through that door, and I don't remember seeing him."

Orpheus tapped his finger on the desk. "What about you two?"

Neither one of them could say with any degree of certainty that he was at the bar.

"Toss his room. If he has booze stashed, he won't have to worry about getting tossed off of the island, because I'll strangle ..." He didn't trail off. The words just hit a brick wall as a look of horrible dawning realization overtook his face. "Shit. Shitshitshit!" He ripped open his top desk drawer, grabbed a small, black canvass pouch about the size of a paperback book, and bolted past them "Come on!"

By the time they'd all shared a confused look and began chasing him, Orpheus was fifty feet past them and accelerating. He was also yelling into his radio with an urgency that Ethan had rarely ever heard. "Lena! Where's Falcone's room?"

O

Lena always said that she "worked hard, so she played hard." And by "playing hard" she meant sitting in bed, drinking wine, and watching
Gilmore Girls
on iTunes. She was on duty, so there wasn't currently any bed and the wine was a Fresca, but God bless the internet.

Then Orpheus was screaming her name through the radio, and she nearly hit the roof

She was so startled by Orpheus' transmission that she dropped her tablet and it clattered against the tile floor. If not for the impact resistant case, she would've been looking at an expensive cutting board. She saved the Fresca, though. Small miracles.

"Say that again, Cap?"

"I need Falcone's room number right away!"

She reached over to grab her tablet. "Okay, okay, one sec." When she picked it up, she saw the maker's logo on the screen. The tablet had survived, but the fall had caused it to reboot. "That's going to take a minute. My computer's rebooting." She didn't get a response right away and could imagine all sorts of swear words coming out of his mouth. "Wait, did you say Falcone? I think that's Torres' roommate, and they're right down the hall from me. I think. One sec." She was already trotting down the hall.

"Lena, wait! Just get me the number. Don't go anywhere near that room."

She believed that she was at the right door. She'd only been here a few times to raid Torres' DVD collection, but she was pretty sure it was this one. "Two-two-six, Orpheus."

"We'll be there in thirty seconds. Go back to your room."

She caught the eye of the only guard in sight. He gave her a quizzical look, and she shrugged. He began walking toward her to see if she needed any help. "I'd hang back, if I were you. The boss is coming." Lena was really curious about what was going on and wanted to stay. But she'd already heard about the morning briefing, and she sure wasn't going to cross Cam right now. Before she could take another step, she heard an indistinct shout.

Then screams.

And crashes.

It sounded like a war had broken out inside, and she didn't know what to do. Then someone screamed a bloodcurdling, "HELP ME!!!" and instinct took over. She tried the handle, but the door was locked. "Move aside, move aside!" The guard had a key ring ready and flipped to the proper one. He slid it in with no problem and turned the handle. He flipped the thumb break on his weapon and made to draw it.

He never had time.

A monster wearing digital print BDU and the name tag "Falcone" crashed into him and drove him against the wall. Lena was knocked to the floor, completely aware that if the door had been unlocked she'd be dead. The guard made feeble attempts to fight back, but blood was already pooling underneath him. The only thing holding him upright was Falcone, who seemed to be interested in nothing else but biting. Tearing.

Feeding.

Lena was on her ass, frozen, her eyes not quite believing what she was seeing. She was vaguely aware that screaming was still coming from Room 226. One thought suppressed all others:
This can't be happening again. We were so careful. This can't be happening again.

She was in a nightmare.

She stayed as motionless as possible, but Falcone still noticed her. He whipped his head around and glared at her with eyes both dead and full of savagery. She saw pieces of the poor guard's flesh hanging from Falcone's mouth. He chewed and the tatters of skin and muscle retreated into his mouth as if he were slurping spaghetti.

He jumped off of the guard and was on her in three paces. She still had the tablet in her hand and swung it for all she was worth. It connected squarely with Falcone's face, which changed the direction of his lunge. His momentum carried him over her, but he was fast. He scrambled back to his feet and lunged again. She still had the shattered tablet in her hand and drove it into the monster's mouth as hard as she could and didn't relent. What used to be Falcone never attempted to retreat. He just pushed on through, causing gruesome damage to his own face.

He's winning. He's too strong.

She heard another scream, different from the panicked one in 226. This was one all rage, and Falcone flew backwards off of her at the hands of another wearing the same uniform. Then someone grabbed her from behind and a soothing voice said, "You're okay!"

O

Orpheus pushed himself harder than he thought possible. His legs were screaming as he took the stairs three at a time. Under different circumstances, he would've been impressed with himself that he'd managed to outpace the kids running behind him. When he reached the top of the stairs he turned in the direction of the teacher's lounge, which Lena had made her office. He almost froze when he saw the scene in front of him. A memory shot through his mind with incredible speed.

A few weeks after their return, Ethan had woken up screaming. His father had raced to his room to find his son sitting upright and crying. He comforted him as he did every so often when Ethan was a boy. Kids have nightmares. But Ethan hadn't had one in ten years.

Once he was calmed down, Ethan told him about how he'd almost lost Rachel. "I was too slow. That thing was on top of her and Sam, and I couldn't get there in time." He paused a moment. "She should've died, Dad. Then a guy I'd just met saved her life at the cost of his own. Not me. Him."

Holt wanted to tell him to not feel guilty, but that was exactly how guilt worked. The kindest people, people who had done everything they could but still came up short, were always the ones who felt the crush of guilt the most. He wasn't to blame, but he was right. Rachel should've died. She'd gotten a second chance. A miracle.

He refused to need a miracle this time. He bellowed Falcone's name, and the thing responded. Not to the name, no. Orpheus knew that Falcone was already gone. But the noise had served its purpose. It had bought him a second.

He reached Falcone and, without breaking stride, ran
past
him as he hooked both his hands underneath the collar of the zombie's jersey. Orpheus' momentum allowed him to rip Falcone off of Lena and throw him farther down the hall. The effort pulled a muscle in his shoulder, but he wouldn't notice that for a while. Falcone tried to scramble to his feet but was met with a size 13 boot to the face. The blow would have incapacitated most men, possibly even killed some. It broke Falcone's jaw and knocked it horribly askew, but it tried to get up again. Orpheus followed through with another boot. This one knocked Falcone's head to the floor with enough force to split the back of his head open.

He still moved for Orpheus, which only enraged the man even further. A third kick almost put Falcone down for good.

Almost.

Orpheus stood over Falcone, breathing hard, too enraged to be capable of speech. He placed a boot on the thing's neck and pressed down. He withdrew his tomahawk, raised it above his head, and brought it down in a savage arc. The blade, brand new and as sharp as it would ever be, cleaved Falcone's head nearly in two, ending him.