Zombie D.O.A. by Jj Zep Page A

my back and felt a profound emptiness suddenly engulf me. Then the cuffs were clipped in place and I was lifted to my feet.
    The lieutenant stood holding Ruby, still wrapped in the maroon coverlet. “My orders are to send the little lady down to base camp,” he said. “They got a hospital there and she’ll be fed and cared for.” He handed Ruby off to another soldier.
    “I need to be with my daughter,” I said and made a move towards her. Two soldiers blocked my way.
    “I understand sir, but my orders…”
    “Fuck your orders!” I screamed. “Ruby!”
    “Sir, you need to…”
    I wrestled my way past the marines and made a run for it. The soldier holding Ruby was get ting into a Humvee .
    Behind me I heard a shot and turned to see Joe Thursday down, clutching his leg. The lieutenant, Dangerfield was the name on his nametag, was standing over him, a pistol in his hand. “Next shot spills his brains on the street,” he said.
    I looked back to see Ruby being driven away and then for the second time in a week, I was knocked out cold .
     
    I came to in what looked like a hotel kitchen. I was cuffed to a chair and as my vision came into focus I saw too armed guards and another man in military service uniform. Next to him stood Lieutenant Dangerfield.
    “Mr. Collins,” the guy in the service uniform said, “Welcome back.” He pulled out a pack of Camels, offered me one, shrugged when I ignored him. He was a burly man, with a steel-grey crew cut, and a nose that looked to have been broken a few times. There was no nametag on his tunic.
    A marine entered and whispered something in Dangerfield’s ear. Dangerfield relayed the message to the big guy and he whispered a reply back to Dangerfield. The answer went back to the young marine, who instantly snapped to attention saluted stiffly and bellowed out, “Yes sir, Major Basher, sir!”
    The marine quick-marched out of the room and Basher turned instantly to Dangerfield, “I thought I said, no names,” he said.
    “I’m sorry, sir,” Dangerfield said, coming to attention, “I’ll see he’s disciplined.”
    “Disciplined my ass,” Basher said, “Man like that’s a danger to himself and his fellow marines. Transfer him to roving patrols, sector 3.”
    “Yes, sir! ” Dangerfield said and swallowed hard.
    “Now!” Basher screamed.
    “ Sir , yes sir!” Dangerfield replied , already heading for the door.
    Basher turned to me and smiled, “Well, now that the introductions have formally been made, let me just say that I’m a big fan.”
    He stood looking at me, enjoying himself, like someone will enjoy practicing a skill they know they’re good at. When he measured that he’d achieved his desired effect he continued.
    “Well , not of you personally , but of fighters in general. Done a bit of boxing myself.”
    “By the look of your nose you weren’t very good at it.”
    He laughed then, a humorless laugh that alm ost mas ked his anger at the slight.
    “Heavyweight champion five years running at Lejuene , although, not of course a professional like yourself,” he said with a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
    “I heard Lejuene is where the y send all the pussy marines,” I said.
    Basher laughed his flat laugh again. “You’re a funny guy Chris,” he said, “I like you.”
    He picked up a meat cleaver from a counter, ran his thumb along the blade, “Sharp,” he said.
    From outside came the sound of machine gun fire. Basher ignored it.
    “You want to know the best part of my job , Chris,” Basher said.
    “The free clothes?”
    This time Basher didn ’t laugh.
    “It’s getting results. Giving Uncle Sam good value for his dollar. You see Chris, I might not be much of a boxer, especially when compared to someone like yourself, but at what I do, at my specialty, I’m Ali and Foreman and Smokin’ Joe Frasier all rolled into one, you better believe it.”
    He put down the cleaver and picked up what looked like a long-handled grapefruit