The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) (3 page)

“Forgive me, I underestimated your worth. Shall we say a $4 million commission to you? Surely a man of your stature could arrange for some type of plausible deniability if things were to go south?
Rogue operatives, acting without your knowledge
. That sort of thing.”

The colonel unholstered his sidearm and set it on the desk. “Mr. Ferris, I’m a busy man, and right now I need to clean my weapon. It would be a shame if it accidentally discharged and blew a hole in that vapid little head of yours. I think it would be safer for you if you left now.”

“I see I have offended you, and for that I am sorry.  Perhaps there is some other arrangement we can come to. Just name your price.”

“Get off my base and don’t ever come back.” 

Ferris wilted. This was one negotiation he wasn’t going to win. He stood up, nodded to the colonel, and left the tent. He ran into Major Steele on his way out. 

Steele had overheard the entire conversation while he was waiting outside the tent—the benefits of a hearing implant in his left ear. There weren’t many things that he liked about being half-cyborg, but that was one of them.

He wasn’t exactly sure if Briggs turned down the bribe because he knew someone might be listening, or if he really did object on moral grounds. It was a lot of money to turn down. Briggs was a smart guy—you didn’t get to be colonel by being stupid. He certainly knew better than to take a bribe in the command tent—anyone could be listening. Surveillance drones the size of flies could be on the wall. The top brass liked to keep an eye on everything. There was no room for privacy in the Army. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Steele said.

Briggs was already in a bad mood, and the sight of Steele was only making it worse. “You know why I joined the Army, Major?”

“I don’t know. To avoid jail time?”

The colonel’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t a fan of sarcasm. Especially not Steele’s.

“I joined the Army because I don’t like people. And this job lets me kill lots and lots of people. I love what I do. But it’s assholes like you that threaten my job. See, when you look bad, it makes
me
look bad.”

“Well, sir, you weren’t that good-looking to begin with.”

Briggs gritted his teeth. The vein in his forehead started to bulge. His voice rumbled, “Major, you will leave this tent a private if you’re not careful. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

The colonel pointed to his collar. “Do you see a star here?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ve been busting my ass and shoveling a lot of shit for a long time. I think there needs to be a star here,” he said, tapping at his collar. “And once this operation gets wrapped up, if everything goes according to plan, I’m going to get it.”

“No one deserves it more than you, sir.
Brigadier General Briggs
has a nice ring to it.” Steele’s voice was dry and monotone, walking the line of insincerity. But not blatantly sarcastic enough for the colonel to jump down his throat.

“If you screw this up for me, you’ll regret it.” Briggs’s eyes burned into him.

“I have no intention of screwing this up for you, sir.”

“Then stop talking to that fucking reporter. I know she’s got nice tits, but exercise a little restraint.”

“Sir, I can assure you I have not divulged any classified information, nor will I.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

*****

Major Steele marched across the base, heading back toward the bunk tents. He saw Delroy talking to Ferris. He instantly knew a plan was hatching—and so would anyone else who was watching. Steele’s face tightened, and he shook his head. He stormed toward them. 

Delroy’s worried eyes caught sight of the Major approaching. He wasn’t quite sure where the Major was going to stand on this issue. Steele grabbed the two men and shoved them in between two armored assault vehicles. 

“Hey, get your fucking hands off me,” Ferris shouted.

“Why don’t you two morons just paint a sign on your forehead?”

“What?” Delroy asked.

“What is it you need from the containment zone?” Steele asked Ferris.

“That’s
my
business,” Ferris replied. 

“Double,” Steele said.

“Excuse me?” Ferris asked.

“Double what you offered Briggs.”

“That’s outrageous.”

“Then find another escort.” Steele grabbed Delroy by the sleeve and drug him back toward the barracks. 

Delroy was perturbed. “What are you doing, sir?” He sure as hell didn’t want to lose the opportunity to make some money. 

“Shut up and keep walking,” Steele said. 

“But he was going to pay me a half a million bucks to get him into the zone,” Delroy grumbled.

“Shut up.”

Delroy didn’t exactly know how to read Steele. Was the major going to report him?

The two got about twenty feet before Ferris called after them. “Wait.”

Steele stopped and turned around. “Go back to the barracks,” he grumbled to Delroy, then shoved him off. 

“But, sir?”

“Go!”

Steele’s eyes glanced around to make sure no one was looking. Then he marched back between the AAVs. 

“You get me in and out safely—and with my cargo—and we have a deal,” Ferris said.

“I’ve got to know what we’re getting.” Steele stared him down.

“Like I said, that’s nobody’s business,” Ferris said. “Take it or leave it.”

Steele gritted his teeth, and his eyes became slits. It was against his better judgment. But that kind of money could be life-changing. Upgraded bio-mechanical parts. An end to the searing pain. Steele had visions of crystal water, white sands, piña coladas, and a beautiful woman by his side. It was tempting.

“I want half, up front, in a numbered offshore account.”

“I can pay you in full when you get me and my cargo safely back on this side of the wall.” Ferris gave him a condescending grin.

“You don’t look very trustworthy.”

“You’re just going to have to have a little faith. Besides, I’d be a fool to screw over a man of your capacity.”

Steele lifted an eyebrow. “You’re a good judge of character, I’ll give you that. Cause one thing is for certain—I’ll kill you if you double-cross me.” 

Steele extended his hand. The two shook on it.

“HOW DO I look?” Ferris asked.

“Like an idiot,” Steele said. “But less of an idiot than you did before.”

Ferris stood awkwardly in the major’s tent, wearing a full
Army Combat Uniform
. He looked like a kid playing dress-up. Parker and Delroy gawked at him, disapprovingly. 

“Took me two years to earn those stripes, he gets them in fifteen minutes,” Delroy said.

“I don’t like it either, but at least he doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb anymore,” Steele said.

“How are we going to get into the containment zone?” Parker asked. “Can’t do it by foot. The perimeter is lined with proximity mines.” 

“I don’t really like the guy, but what about Kilgore?” Delroy said. “He could fly us in.”

Parker huffed. “Kilgore hates the major.”

“Mitchell is flying a routine patrol in the morning. He’s going to drop us off at the LZ,” Steele said. “We’ll have 3 hours to acquire the package and rendezvous at the extraction point.”

“Can Mitchell keep his mouth shut?” asked Parker.

“He’ll keep quiet,” Steele said.

“Just saying, the more people we bring into this, the more there is to go wrong,” Parker said. “And Mitchell has always been a little loose lipped.”

“You’ve got a better way in?” Steele asked.

“No.”

“Mitchell has no idea what we’re doing in there,” Steele said. “For that matter, neither do I.” His eyes glanced to Ferris, who was still fumbling with his uniform.

“How much did you have to pay him?” Delroy asked. 

“That’s between me and Mitchell.”

“He better not be getting more than we are,” said Delroy.

“Don’t get greedy, Delroy. Let’s get one thing straight. This operation may be a lot of things, but it’s not a democracy. It’s not fair and equitable. You’ll get paid what you agreed to, nothing more, nothing less. You don’t like it, back out now.”

“No, I’m good,” Delroy said. He wasn’t about to jeopardize his share.  

“What are we going to do if we run into resistance?” Parker asked. “There’s no way the four of us can hold off a swarming horde of those things. Not to mention the gangs. We lost an entire platoon just last week. They’re like a goddamn flash mob. One minute everything seems fine, the next minute there’s a sea of them.”

“I’m well aware of the dangers, Sergeant. That’s why we need to slip in and slip out undetected,” Steele said. “We go in guns blazing, it’s going to attract a lot of unwanted attention.”

“What if we run into refugees?” Parker asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing,” Steele said. “Everything in that zone is infected. We are not there to help refugees. Keep that in mind, Parker. I don’t need you getting soft on me. You want to help people, go join the Peace Corps.”

“Was just a question, sir,” she said.

Steele set a black disc on the table and clicked a button. The lens cover slid open, and the disc projected a 3-D holographic display into the air. Steele flipped through the virtual operating system. He pressed virtual buttons and swiped screens until a map appeared. “Ferris, get over here.”

Ferris was sitting on a bunk, lacing up his boots. He stood up and walked to the table and took a seat. “When do I get a gun?”

“Never,” they all replied in unison.

Ferris looked disappointed. He may have been a billionaire tech giant, but  was out of his element in the military world. In a best case scenario, he’d shoot himself in the foot. In a worst-case scenario, he’d shoot someone else.

Steele pointed to an area on the east side of downtown. “This is the LZ. We’ll make a rooftop insertion.” He glanced to Ferris. “Where’s the package?”

Ferris looked over the grid. He put his finger up to the virtual display and scrolled through the map. His eyes squinted as he tried to get his bearings. “Here,” he pointed, finally.

“That’s about seven or eight clicks to the west,” Steele said. “What is that building?”

“Residential home. Riviera Oaks Estates,” Ferris said. His tone was smug.

“And you are sure what we’re after is inside?”

“Yes, I’m positive.”

“Tell me about the structure. Entrances, exits?”

“Typical home. Front door, back door, service entrance.”

“Right, typical.” Steele didn’t know anyone who had a servant’s entrance to their home. And it certainly wasn’t typical for the average American. Steele swallowed his disdain. He could put up with this smug asshole for a day if it meant getting rich. 

“Why can’t we move the LZ closer?” Delroy asked. “Seven clicks, plus target acquisition in three hours is cutting it close.”

“If Mitchell deviates from the flight plan it’s going to raise eyebrows,” Parker said.

Steele zoomed the display into a 3D street view. He examined the property from every angle. Then he moved inside the home. 

Ferris’s jaw dropped. “How can you see inside my home?” 

“We got all the cool toys,” Delroy said with glee.

“Where is the target within the house?” Steele asked.

“Master bedroom. Upstairs.”

Steele navigated through the palatial estate. The imaging technology had an 85% structural accuracy rating. You could see rooms, stairs, furniture placement. You could even see the paintings on the walls. The imaging database was updated every six months to a year, so the scans were fairly accurate. 

“The Supreme Court ruled this kind of imaging technology unconstitutional,” Ferris said. “It’s a fourth amendment violation.”

“Tell that to the corporation that owns us,” Steele said.  

“Where’s the extraction point?” Parker asked.

Steele pointed at the screen. “Here. About seven clicks northwest of the target.”

“That’s pretty rough in through there, sir” Parker said. “That area is littered with herds of infected.”

“It’s what we’ve got,” Steele said. “One more thing. Shut off your tracking chips. We don’t want the friendly folks at Z-SOC picking up our movements inside the zone.”

Every soldier was fitted with a tracking chip inserted under the skin. The tags transmitted location, identity, and biometric data—heart rate, respiration, blood pressure, along with a complete medical history. The chips were extremely valuable when it came to locating wounded soldiers, identifying remains, and tracking troop movements. But they weren’t always reliable. It wouldn’t be unusual for entire platoons to go off-line. Tampering or disabling a tracking device was subject to disciplinary action. But that didn’t stop soldiers from turning them off. Uncle Sam didn’t need to know your whereabouts all the time. Especially if you were going to access an unauthorized zone.