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After the debacle at DA Baracus's, it didn't take long at all for a video with a picture of Justin's Romero-fied face to show up on the internet. Major couldn't believe they had never considered that the zombie-hunters would have a dash cam.
So it was no surprise to him when, after an intensive debriefing immediately after they called in the incident, he and Justin were called in to an emergency meeting at Fillmore Graves the next day. Clive and Liv were invited along, since they were investigating the zombie-hunters on Vivian Stoll's behalf. They took their seats on one side of the conference table, Major feeling very much like a chastened child and hoping none of the zombies in the room could sense his heightened heartrate, and Fortesan and Stoll and Carey Gold on the other side. The first thing Stoll did was to pull up the video on the large screen behind the conference table, and they all watched in horrified fascination as a red-eyed Justin chased down a moving pickup and launched himself on top of it. All of them had seen the video multiple times, but that didn't diminish how bad Major felt that it existed at all—or the danger it represented to Justin, and to Liv.
The video ended and Stoll and the others swiveled their seats to face Major and Justin, Liv and Clive. "Our zombie truther friend Harley Johns posted that footage on YouTube last night," Stoll said, her tone matter-of-fact, for the moment without judgement.
"How many views?" Carey Gold asked.
"Almost a thousand. There was no way we could have avoided this little … anti-zombie recruitment video?" Stoll's eyes were on Major and Justin.
There really wasn't anything to say to that, but Major had to say something nevertheless. It had been his fault—he should have known where Justin was. And if he hadn't been human, none of it would have happened. "Look, we had the drop on 'em. Then they ran over Justin and …" His voice trailed off and he gestured at the screen.
"And you let them get away." There was no doubt about Fortesan's feelings. He was highly disappointed. Major had been on the receiving end of that tone more than often enough to recognize it now.
"It's my fault," Justin offered. "I shouldn't have let myself get run over."
"They protected Baracus from harm. That was their assignment," Carey Gold argued.
"And the enemy gained intel," Fortesan spat. "They released documented proof of the existence of zombies!"
"It's only proof if people believe it. So far, the comments seem to suggest they don't."
Regardless of Gold's optimism, Major knew it was only a matter of time before enough people believed what they saw to start truly hunting zombies, and then what would happen to the people he cared about?
Turning to Clive, Gold went on, "It certainly looks like these guys were responsible for the Tuttle-Reed murders."
"Harley Johns and his three brothers are still our prime suspects," Clive agreed. "But we don't have enough solid evidence yet."
"Plus, a few hundred people posted on their anti-zombie message board. Any of them could have killed Juan's family," Liv pointed out.
Fortesan leaned forward. "I propose that we handle this in-house."
Stoll smiled. "Down, boy. Bright side: Our mayoral candidate is still among the nearly living, and I've got a good feeling about Clive and Liv, that they're going to catch the bad guy, or bad guys, and we'll all be able to sleep soundly. That's it," she finished briskly. "Meeting adjourned."
Major admired her ability to give orders while appearing to merely carry on a polite conversation. But he couldn't believe he and Justin were going to get out of this so easily. He tried not to let it be obvious that he was holding his breath, waiting on the other shoe to drop.
So he wasn't surprised that while everyone else was getting to their feet, Stoll looked at him across the table and ordered him to stay put. Alarmed, definitely … but not surprised.
The others left, Liv and Justin both giving backward glances of concern, hovering a bit in the outer office until it was clear Stoll was waiting for them to be gone. Once they finally headed for the elevators, she gestured for Major to move to the chair across from her desk, taking her own seat and studying him thoughtfully. "Major Lilywhite. Talk about a big-league debut. Pinned down in Kumar, your lieutenant dead, and you clear a rooftop of enemy snipers? Your rookie card's gonna be a collector's item, and all those heroics while taking multiple stab wounds to the stomach? You know what that shows me?"
"That there's no such thing as abs of steel?" Major tried to relax and smile a bit, to follow her light, breezy lead … but she was going somewhere with this, and he was all too afraid that he knew her ultimate destination.
"Look at you. Joking around, no PTSD. What it shows me, is that you're the same Major who went to Kumar. You are, aren't you? The same Major?"
He wasn't, actually, but he could hardly tell her that, not and keep his job. What had happened to Justin last night indicated that he probably should come clean, that maybe he couldn't hold up his end of the bargain. "Actually, I um …" But he couldn't bear to lose another job that meant something to him, another opportunity to do something he liked and was good at. "I came back more committed than ever," he told her, projecting as much confidence into his voice as he could.
"I love it." She got to her feet, coming around the desk toward him. "I want to shake your hand, soldier."
He could hardly say no. He got up and held his hand out. Stoll's handshake was as firm and no-nonsense as everything else about her. But then she gripped his wrist with her other hand, holding him there. "I hope this isn't too personal. But … is that a human pulse I'm feeling, or are you just happy to see me?" She smiled, the confident smile of a woman whose suspicions had just been confirmed.
Major pulled his hand out of her grasp. Nothing for it now. She knew. He would have to tell her the truth, little as he wanted to. He stammered, trying to find a way to deny it that would sound plausible. Before he could say much, her assistant knocked on the door, reminding Stoll that the helicopter was ready.
As the assistant withdrew, closing the door behind her, Stoll said, "The problem is, when you do so well in Kumar, and you fail back home, people notice. I was out there, during the debriefing, wondering 'how did our new star soldier let that zombie-murdering hick escape?'."
"Everything—it was happening so fast." It sounded lame even as he said it, and Stoll interrupted him before the words were half out of his mouth, not buying it at all.
"Not too fast for a zombie. And how is it that you are no longer one?" He hesitated and she looked sternly up at him, brooking no more delay. "Major. Tell me."
It couldn't hurt. After all, the cures were gone, so what could Fillmore Graves do with the knowledge that they existed somewhere? Maybe they could even help. "There's a cure. Or … there was a cure."
"What happened to it?"
"There were only a few vials—one vital ingredient is almost impossible to get—and they were stolen. We think we know by whom, but we can't prove it."
"So. You're a human, but you have no means of making any of your other fellow soldiers suddenly unable to do their jobs properly?"
He shook his head, and Stoll nodded briskly.
"Very well. I wlll want to talk to your scientist. After all, we have resources. Maybe we can help." She looked at her watch. "I'm late. I want you benched while I'm gone, and I'll consider what to do about you before I get back. It's a shame, Major. You were going to be a real asset to us. But I know you understand that a human in a troop full of zombies is little more than a liability."
He nodded, dejected. It was hard to remember right now why he had been so happy to be human again. Here he was, no Liv, soon no job, complicit in creating danger for all the zombies he knew … What had it been for, then? Other than not dying, which he supposed was still a worthy reason. Still, it was hard not to wish himself back again, one of his company, just like them.