I heard a clicking sound, then a clank of metal. I could almost see the lock on Horace’s door shattering.
The revenant sprang loose. Dax shouted a warning, but the dead man flung himself at the guards, his voice spiraling upward into that awful wail that seemed to cut straight through any self-preservation technique the unknowing living possessed, rendering them motionless, helpless sandwiches on two legs.
“Cover your ears!” I screeched.
The first guard got his gun up in time, but couldn’t seem to find the trigger. The dead man collided with the living one, and the next horrible seconds heard screams turn into gurgles. Blood fountained across the room, nearly drenching Vijay and Dax.
The other guard struck the zombie in the head and successfully knocked him over. Horace twisted around to wail at him as well, and the guard poked his shotgun into the huge scarlet mouth. The head shattered when he pulled the trigger, leaving the body to sag over what remained of its prey.
The fallen guard grasped at his throat, flailing around. I squinted at the wound, trying to identify the damage. Carotid artery…can’t stitch that up.
His buddy agreed with me, and quickly ended the man’s suffering.
Vijay and Dax edged away from the puddle of blood rapidly spreading into their cell.
“Clear,” the surviving guard called. “Had a bit of an incident with Alfred.”
Alfred. We’d taken to calling the zombie Horace, but apparently his name was Alfred.
Captain Keller himself strolled in, still looking more like a frat boy in a Halloween costume than an actual military leader. He was followed closely by our very own Tony McKnight, who had ditched his usual jeans and jackets for military fatigues very much like the captain’s. Tony took in the two dead men and his eyes widened, but he was careful not to say anything. Keller just looked down at the pair and shook his head. “So did we use shitty locks, or do they just break down after repeated bashing?”
No one answered him. He sighed, and fixed his pale gaze on each one of us in turn. “Good afternoon, folks,” he said. “I see you’re all in good order.”
I held my tongue.
Gloria didn’t. “That might be a stretch. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Keller smiled at her. “Looking for you, actually.”
Well, that didn’t sound promising.
“Bring them to HQ,” he said to someone behind him. More guards, by the looks of them. They began filing in.
“What do you want with us?” I asked.
“You? Nothing.”
Tony glanced my way and shook his head ever so slightly—just keep quiet, Vibby—and then turned to Dax, presumably to pass on that same message. We stood there, wordless, as the other guards came forward, opened up our cells, and began dragging our compatriots out.
“Where are you taking us?” Gloria demanded.
“Processing,” Keller said.
Some guys can just make a word sound ominous.
“You have information I want,” he said. “If you talk, it won’t be so bad.”
Really ominous.
The reporter and her cameraman went without much of a struggle, perhaps because leaving the cell meant they wouldn’t have to inhale the godawful stench of Horace/Alfred anymore…or they realized there wasn’t a damn thing they could do besides get themselves and the rest of us maimed or killed.
I watched them go.
Keller glanced at Tony, his gaze narrowing. “You can have your friends,” he said, as if he were graciously offering the man the last slice of cake at a birthday party. “But if there is any trouble from them…”
“There won’t be,” Tony said. “They’re pussies.”
Dax shrugged. I folded my arms.
Keller looked us over. “Sure,” he said. “I can see that.”
Bless you, child. The kid obviously didn’t believe him. After all, when we wound up in his custody we were all toting some pretty impressive firepower, and had just single-handedly fought off a horde of the undead and a nasty gang of biker brigands. I could continue to entertain my fantasy of being a total badass for at least another week.
The guard standing in front of my cell beckoned to me. “Well, come on.”
I stepped toward the cell door and edged past the man. Dax did the same, stepping over the puddle of blood and tip-going around splatter to reach freedom.
Tony’s expression warned us both not to say anything.
Keller spotted our squares of scrawled-upon toilet paper. “My guards thought you had IBS,” he said. “What were you doing?”
“Playing Cards Against Humanity,” I said. “Well. Cards Against Zombies.”
“Who won?” Tony asked.
“No one. They all sucked and someone’s a closeted Orlando Bloom fan.”
“Can we have our stuff back?” Dax asked. “These clothes smell like zombie and feet.”
“Your belongings are with your commander,” Keller said. “You were both in the militia with Commander McKnight?”
We nodded.
“Interesting,” he said. “We didn’t realize Elderwood placed such high importance on the militia.”