Chapter 17: Shakedown
(DEAN)
"It'll be just up ahead" he told John, pointing down the street. They'd been heading this direction for the past fifteen minutes, and aside from a couple of hasty detours around streets choked with infected, there hadn't been any major hang ups. Dean allowed himself to relax a little, for the first time since this time yesterday. Maybe things were starting to go-
BLAM!
With a tortured cough, the SUV came to an abrupt stop. Steam rose directly through a brand new hole in the vehicle's hood.
"What was that?" asked the new cop. Dean thought he was a pilot, Vicks or some such thing.
"We just got fuckin' shot!" John snapped, kicking his door open and dropping into the street. Dean snatched up his SPAS and followed suit, Mac and Lewis following suit behind him. Vicks, or whatever his name was, didn't have a weapon, and instead hunched low in the backseat, moaning to himself. Dean rolled his eyes in disgust…only to have that irritation turn to shocked fear at the warning click of a rifle less than five inches from his right eye.
"Don't you move" a sharp voice instructed. Dean's eye shifted a little to his right, allowing him to detect the flash hider of an M16, clutched in the hands of a man in military grade fatigues.
"Now, nice and slow, drop the shotgun, and reach for the sky" the man continued, his voice still quiet. Dean did as he was instructed, placing the weapon on the curb, then raising his hands over his head.
"Good, now on your knees" the man continued. Dean again followed instructions, dropping down to his knees. He could see the others doing the same.
"Now, how about you tell me what you guys are doing out here, so heavily armed?" the soldier asked, his voice still calm.
There was a startled exclamation as two soldiers grabbed the other cop and dragged him out of the SUV, throwing him onto the pavement. "Don't move" one of them barked.
"We're trying to get to the Arklay Lookout" Dean answered, trying to keep his eyes on the first soldier. He had two stripes on his shoulder, a nametag the front of his uniform. GREER. "We're survivors from the RPD."
"That so?" the soldier asked. He gestured toward the mercenaries. "They don't look like cops to me."
"Piss off" John spat.
A soldier braced his foot against his back and sent him sprawling. John started to stand up, only to have the flash hider of an M16 pressed against the back of his head.
"Give me a reason, motherfucker, I dare you" the soldier said, his voice deadly calm.
"Wallace, stand down" said the soldier who'd started asking questions.
"But Corporal, these could be with the guys that got York-"
"I said stand down, soldier" the corporal said, his voice quiet and cold.
With an irritated huff, Wallace lowered his rifle.
"Now, I suspect we might've gotten off on the wrong foot" Greer continued. "Let's try again. Who are you, where are you from, and why were you heading toward my quarantine zone?"
"We're with a PMC" Lewis replied. "Umbrella sent us in to safeguard their employees. It should all check out."
"That's awful funny" said the soldier standing over him, a pained sneer on his face. "Awful funny, cuz the last guys we ran into claiming to be with Umbrella shot us up."
"Yeah, we had a run-in with them about a few hours ago" Dean said. "They shot us up pretty bad. I caught a bullet in the leg, been limping around ever since. I'm telling you, we're legit."
Greer looked like he was thinking that over for a minute. "Maybe you are, and maybe you aren't." He gestured to his left, where figures were already starting to shamble toward them. "In any case, we're starting to get kinda popular, so I think we'll have to continue this discussion somewhere else." He knelt down and picked up Dean's SPAS. "Twelve gauge. Very nice. I think I'll hold onto this for a while." He turned to the rest of his men. "Get 'em up. Double time. I didn't come this far to be some dead ass idiot's lunch." He raised his index finger, pressing down on a button that seemed to be in his ear, speaking now into the boom mike attached to his helmet. "Delmont! Stay off the Barret. We're gonna walk oughtta this one, nice and slow, nice and quiet. Copy?" There was an affirmative hiss of static, then nothing.
"Alright guys, let's go!" Greer snapped, quietly. "We're almost home. Nice and easy." He turned to Dean. "You and your guys best stay with us, seeing as how we've taken your big guns. Any of you try to run, though, and I guarantee you'll sprout a nice, new half-inch hole you didn't even now you wanted. Got it?"
Dean nodded. "Do I have a choice?"
Greer cracked a half smile. "You know, I think I'm starting to like you. God I hope you're actually a cop. I hate shooting people I like."
And on that note, they set off.
(BILLY)
"One helluva view, don't you think?" Major Nero asked, staring out at the burning city below him. "I mean, were it not for the zombie apocalypse going on down there, I'd certainly not have a hard time seeing why people pay" he paused, squinting at a menu in his left hand, "more than you make in a month to eat up here."
"Untie me, and maybe I'll help you see it from outside" Billy replied, from where he knelt between two of Nero's Marines. No he corrected himself. These guys aren't Marines. Not anymore. They're just thugs in uniform.
Nero shook his head, chuckling a little. "Yeah, I'll bet you'd like that. Solve everything with your fists. You know, Coen, you haven't changed a bit. Same old cut and dry. So predictable. So…boring." He sighed, turning to face Billy. "You know, when you killed those guards, I thought maybe you'd finally broken. I thought you'd finally realized you needed to do what had to be done. Then I see you here, paling around with cops, and I realize you're still the same idiot you were back in Africa. It's a shame. Had things been different, maybe you'd have actually been on the road to greater things. Instead, here we are. Again."
"What are you talking about?" Billy replied. "In Africa you were just a sick son of a bitch who liked killing. Why come all this way? Why put yourself through the unnecessary risk? I mean, you have noticed all the fucked up shit going on below us, right?"
Nero shook his head. "You've never been one to see beyond the situation. You're too busy worrying about tactics, the how, that you never bother to see strategy. The why. That's why you were always gonna be serving others. That's why you'll never lead."
"So, enlighten me" Billy replied, his mind racing, trying to figure out what was going on.
"You never had a head for opportunity. I did. It's really that simple. Whether it's a village full of savages sitting on top of an abandoned research facility, or a town overrun with biological weapons, there's always a chance for a man like me to make a decent profit."
"So that's your game? You're working for Umbrella?"
Nero snorted. "Not hardly. Umbrella's finished. Their labs' destroyed. Their employees dead…those that aren't out there eating folks. No, Umbrella's fucked. I'm with the new kid on the block, people who've got more resources than you can even begin to imagine. People who can make all this" he gestured to the burning city out the window "disappear. But that's all you're going to get from me. On to more important things. Have you seen my gun?"
Billy blinked. "What?"
"My gun? I think you saw it back in Kijuju. Well, I think I'll reacquaint you." Nero reached into his holster and drew out a long barreled handgun, a big laser sight fixed to the chromed slide. "AMT Hardballer Longslide. Fires .454 magnum. It's not quiet .50 Action Express, but one shot'll still kill a man. I call her the Killer 7, on account of I killed seven men with her the first time I used her. She was a little…pot sweetener from my new friends at the time." Nero placed the barrel of the weapon against Billy's chin. Billy steeled his resolve, doing his best not to flinch away from the cold steel. "How's it feel, Coen? Knowing you're less than seven pounds of trigger pressure away from having your brains painting the ceiling?"
Billy snorted. "Better men then you have been closer to ending me. You don't have the balls. I'm not afraid of you."
The blow came as not much of a surprise, the magnum's grip smashing across his face. Billy felt blood begin to dribble down his chin.
"Now look at that, Coen, you got your blood all over my gun" Nero said, mock irritably. "Damn. This thing cost more than your life's worth" he muttered, rubbing the weapon clean with a cloth. He ran his finger along the slide. "You like the engraving? I had that done custom too. Still, figure I'm gonna have get that change. I mean, once I kill you and your little girlfriend, not to mention those other cops you brought along, I figure it'll be closer to Killer 12. Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, though."
"You son of a bitch!" Billy snarled, lunging for Nero.
The Major took a step backward, smiling. "Everyone has a breaking point, Coen. Even idiot idealists like you. All it takes is a little brain power."
"Why are you doing this? Why not just kill me?"
Nero shrugged. "You know, I really haven't thought that one through all the way. I guess it's because there are still some other people I'm waiting for, and I guess I'd be bored without something to do." He stepped past Billy, heading for the door. "You be a good boy, and maybe I'll make it easy on your friends." He stopped in the doorway. "Well, easier." Then he was gone, leaving Billy alone.
He was starting to wish he'd died back in July.
(DEAN)
The barricade in front of the Arklay Lookout was one of the most impressive Dean had seen, and after the various police actions he'd taken part in over the last few hours, he was starting to think of himself as an expert on modern fortifications.
There were sandbags along its width, bulging in places with machinegun mounts. The bags were heaped in front of concrete highway dividers, which doubled as convenient rests for several dozen riflemen, all with their weapons trained out. Two prefabricated guard towers stood nearby, with more visible machineguns. Dean suspected there were also men armed with scoped rifles in some of the nearby buildings.
The soldiers had been joined by Delmont a few minutes earlier, a man wearing completely black fatigues and carrying what might've been the biggest rifle Dean had ever seen. The man didn't talk much, and he made even less noise as he walked. Dean thought of him as the place where sound went to die.
"Campbell!" one of the soldiers called out.
"Boomstick!" Greer shouted back, finishing what must've been some sort of code. Greer's response must've been the right one, since he didn't sudden sprout a bunch of new holes. The soldiers made their way toward the barricade, ignoring the zombies milling around a few dozen yards away.
"Those things are stupid" Greer explained as they moved. "We don't shoot at them, and they forget we're here…generally. Still, we stay off the pigs till we have enough to justify all the noise."
Dean thought back to the defense of the RPD building, and all the unnecessary shooting, the unending swarms of infected from all sides. Maybe if they'd held their fire, things would've gone differently.
"We'll check your weapons here" Greer said, pointing to a table. "If you are who you say you are, you'll get your handguns back, but everything else has to stay here."
Dean nodded slowly, unholstering his Beretta and setting it on the table with the other weapons. An M14 and UMP already lay there, along with a motley collection of rifles and shotguns, soon joined by Mac and Lewis's assault rifles and John's dart gun.
Greer nodded. "Okay, come with us. We'll get this all sorted out."
He led them toward a ten with a large red cross on top of it. "In here" he told a confused Dean, holding a flap up so he and the others could enter.
A young woman came striding toward them. "Corporal, what's the problem? Has someone been bitten, or-hey, I know you!"
"Well, I guess that answers one question" Greer said. "Rebecca, we found these guys outside. They said they were cops, and since you're also a cop, I figured you might be able to vouch for them."
Rebecca Chambers nodded, the motion causing the light to shift on her face, revealing a big bruise. "Yeah, I know him, and-Brad? What are you doing here? We thought you'd already left."
"Believe me," said the other cop, "I wish I had. But…here I am."
"Where have you been? Why didn't you report to the station like everyone else?"
"I tried" Brad answered. "But there were two many zombies. Then I ran into Mat, then Jill, but that big thing showed up, and…um, we got separated."
"You saw Mat?" Rebecca asked, her eyes lighting up. "He's alive? Where? When?"
"This morning" Brad replied. "But…I'm sure he's okay."
"I better go get Chase and Karen" Rebecca said, turning to look at Dean. "It's good to see you, uh-"
"Dean."
"Right. Good to see you, Dean." She turned to John, eying him a little distastefully. "And you too."
John mock bowed. "The pleasure is mine" he replied, sarcastically.
Rolling her eyes, Rebecca headed for the flap.
Greer turned to Dean. "Well, it looks like you're on the up and up. Sorry to have doubted you."
Dean shook his head. "Hey man, better safe than sorry."
"Something like that. Well, I better go get your stuff. Feel free to move around, just stay out of any areas soldiers tell you not to enter. And if we catch you looting, there's no warning. We'll just shoot you."
"Wonderful" Dean muttered as the soldier ducked under the tent flap.
A second later it rose again, revealing Rebecca, along with Chase Mathison and Karen Danvers.
"Good to see you made it, Travers" Chase said. "I figured you'd probably find your way here."
"Thanks sir."
"Chase, he says he's seen Mat-" Rebecca began, but Chase cut her off.
"We can worry about Mat later. Right now, we've got bigger, and more immediate problems."
"Like what, sir?" Dean asked.
Chase lifted the flap of the tent and pointed to the top of the large wooden structure dominating the area. "Well, it's like this. There's a man up there's been wrongly accused. They're planning to execute him. I plan to fix that." He looked at Dean and the mercenaries. "What can you do to help me?"