Broken (Book 3 of The Guardian Interviews)

  Broken

  Book 3 of the Guardian Interviews

  By

  Michael Clary

  Copyright©2013 by Michael Clary

  All Rights Reserved.

  Editing by Sandi Powell

  Proofreading by Claudia Rodriguez

  Cover by Alan Moorefield

  http://www.facebook.com/elpasounderattack

  http://www.facebook.com/michaelclary69

  Chapter 1

  Jaxon

  My goal was to take a well-deserved break. The story of how the Regulators battled vampires in the Sun Bowl had just hit the bookstores and it was moving like a runaway freight train. I had already done the press junkets, and the signings. I was tired. Yes, I knew the story wasn’t finished. There were still zombies in El Paso, and let’s not forget Dudley’s tease during his last interview. He warned me that if I thought vampires were wild, I needed to wait and hear about how they finally cleared the city.

  I believed Dudley.

  Please don’t think otherwise. I just wanted a vacation or three before I went after that story. Interviewing the Regulators is a lot of work. A person learns things they often wish they hadn’t.

  I received a phone call in the middle of the night: a man begging for my help. He told me a tale I just couldn’t wait to investigate. I did some digging based on what the man had told me and compared his tale to three separate events that gave him credibility. The first of these events was an assassination attempt on the President of the United States. The second was the General’s famous stay at a hospital in Ruidoso, New Mexico. The third was a much televised public threat that frightened the world and led to the closing of borders.

  Now, these events alone were nothing new. All of them were exhaustively televised, and I wasn’t much interested in what others had reported. No, I was only interested in what the midnight caller told me. I was interested in what went on behind the scenes and I just had to know if what the man said was true.

  My vacation was put on hold. Phone calls were made. Interviews were set up, and I was on my way to a small compound, near but separate from Fort Bliss Army Base in El Paso, Texas.

  As I waited for the General to appear, I realized that for the first time, I wasn’t nervous. I had seen too much of the man. I was beginning to see him as a friend. In fact, I was beginning to enjoy the company of all the team members, with the possible exception of Nick.

  When he walked into the conference room in full gear and dropped his machine gun onto the wooden table between us, I damn near fell out of my seat. He noticed my reaction and the blush of embarrassment spreading over my cheeks. The General was about to say something (probably at my expense) when I was saved by the large, black pit bull that bounded into the room after him before dropping the entire upper half of her body onto my lap.

  “It’s nice to see you Merrick.”

  She must have missed you.

  I couldn’t help smiling as I scratched the dog behind the ears. The look of joy on her face was contagious. It was hard to believe she was capable of all the things I’d heard.

  “I’ve missed her as well, and I never thought I’d say that about a pit bull.”

  That’s how it goes for a lot of people. It’s easy to fear what you don’t know. It’s a shame really. They make the best pets in the world.

  As hard as it might be for me to believe Merrick was capable of violent actions, it was rather easy to believe it of the General. At just a shade under six feet, the man was wide with large arms, big shoulders, and a thick neck. The tactical vest over his broad chest made him seem even larger, if that’s possible. He looked imposing as hell and the skull and crossed pistols boldly emblazoned on his tactical vest let everyone know he was serious.

  His light brown hair was as short as it always is and his ever-present backwards Harley Davidson ball cap was beginning to look a little rough around the edges. The green eyes were the real draw of the show however. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrors they’d witnessed.

  “How old is that hat?”

  What are you getting at? It’s just starting to feel comfy.

  There was the briefest moment of awkwardness as I pondered how to ask what I wanted to ask. The General beat me to the punch.

  Dudley tells me that you’re probably here to find out about what happened after all the survivors were cleared from the city. I guess he let slip some hints that we had ourselves some crazy times.

  “That is exactly why I’m here. Will you tell me what happened?”

  Sure. I warn you though; it’s not always a very pleasant tale. Some of the boys may be a little reluctant to relive some of what happened.

  “Is it that bad?

  Some of it was par for the course. There are things that definitely shouldn’t have happened, but I guess we’ll get to that. Where do you want to start?

  “If you don’t mind, can you take me back to what happened after the last of the survivors were evacuated from the city? I’m not sure that you are aware of this, but people really began to panic once the last group had been evacuated. They feared that without a food source, the zombies would eventually begin to drift towards the borders of the city.

  That was a worry we had as well. If any zombies got out of the city, they could spread throughout the country in an unstoppable wave. It wouldn’t take very long either, not with the zombies we were dealing with. Maybe you know this, maybe you don’t but there are different types of zombies. There are slow zombies, there are magically controlled zombies, there are zombies created by idiot scientists…there are a bunch of different types. The ones that took over El Paso as you may remember were created from a nasty and powerful curse. They also happen to be the worst of the bunch.

  “Why are they the worst of the bunch?”

  They move fast and they maintain their speed despite how rotted out they become. Slow zombies are the easiest to deal with, especially if they decay at a normal rate. I’ll take slow and rotted out zombies any day of the week over the ones that ones we were dealing with in El Paso.

  “So the public had a legitimate concern?”

  Definitely. I mean, the military had done a fine job guarding the borders of the city. Not a single zombie got by them. They were dealing with limited amounts of the undead, though. A great horde never made an attempt to leave the city. They didn’t have to: there were food sources that were much closer to anything outside the borders.

  “So, what was the plan to keep this from happening?”

  Well, we tripled the amount of soldiers guarding the borders. We also dropped speakers all around the city and started blasting the sounds of people screaming to keep them interested in the area. This was a pretty neat idea. The screams would play out on a bunch of speakers for about five minutes and then shut off, while more screams played out on a bunch of different speakers at another location. It worked pretty well, but we weren’t going depend on it lasting forever. We didn’t know if the undead would grow immune to the sounds.

  There was a fallback plan in place. It wasn’t a good one. In fact, we really wanted to avoid it. If all else failed and the zombies moved towards the borders in a large horde, certain people wanted to level the entire city.

  “That’s exactly what you had been trying to avoid from the beginning. Would the plan have worked?”

  Probably not. Mind you, that’s just my opinion, but I don’t see any sort of bomb or explosion as an end to the problem. I’m sure it would have taken out some of the undead, but what are the odds that it would destroy all of them?

  “What if they used something bigger?”

  Like nuclear?

  “Yes. What about
nuclear?”

  We have no clue how that would affect the zombies. It may not even hurt them at all unless they actually get caught in the blast. Hardin was violently opposed to that idea by the way. He didn’t want to take the chance of having irradiated zombies running around.

  “That sounds pretty scary.”

  Exactly, and I’m no expert on nuclear bombs, but I don’t even want to imagine the damage it would cause the surrounding areas.

  “So you’ve told me what other people wanted to do. Now tell me what you wanted to do.”

  I wanted to thin the herd. The more zombies we could destroy before they lost interest and tried to leave the better. Mind you, we didn’t have any great plans for this. Other teams tried different ideas, such as waiting by the speakers and shooting the zombies when they appeared. However, we favored a more direct approach.

  “It sounds as if we are nearing the start of the story.”

  Sounds that way to me.

  “Before you begin: tell me about the weapons you used.”

  Jaxon laughed at this, as if he was he was wondering when I was going to bring it up. I hate to be repetitive, but people seem to have a lot of interest in the tools he uses. That makes it important.

  Well, the only thing that changed since the last time we spoke was my knife. The folder I was using was starting to look pretty nasty after all the use it received, so I decided to retire it with honors. I began carrying a Cold Steel Natchez Bowie as its replacement. This thing is a beast of a knife, with an 11 ¾” blade that’s sharp enough to shave with. I’d wanted to try one out after seeing Georgie’s Bowie.

  “Did it meet your expectations?”

  And then some. Other than that, I was still using the Sig Sauer p226 with a silencer, the mp7 rifle also with a silencer, my Cold Steel Ti-Lite as a backup knife, and of course my tomahawk.

  “Your trademark weapon?”

  I guess so.

  “Do you have it on you right now?”

  I do.

  “Can I see it?”

  Jaxon smiled and reached behind his back. The tomahawk was nestled in a sideways holster on the back of his utility belt. It made a raspy sound as be pulled it free. He casually gave it a brief twirl in his hand before holding it out for me to grasp.

  The edge of the blade looked frighteningly sharp. The bluing over the metal had faded to a dull grey from excessive use. The wooden handle was scarred and stained. My hand froze about an inch away. I couldn’t will myself to grab a hold of it.

  Jaxon noticed my reluctance.

  Don’t worry about it. It has that effect on a lot of people.

  Another quick twirl and the tomahawk was once again out of sight and back on the utility belt.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Not a problem.

  “Were you still using the bite suits and tactical vests?”

  Yeah. Those are pretty much required uniforms when dealing with monsters.

  “How soon after the last of the survivors were evacuated did you begin eliminating the zombies?”

  The very next day.

  “Okay, tell me how you did it.”

  Like I said before, we favored a more direct approach. Instead of just staying in a safe place near the speakers, we only started things out that way. We let the speakers call in the zombies, and then one of us would run through the area and get the zombies to chase after him.

  When zombies see prey, they shriek out those ugly screams they’re so fond of and that attracts more zombies to the scene. So, we would run around for a while gathering up more and more zombies. When the group was big enough, we would lead them to a predetermined area, and make for safety while the rest of the team unloaded on them with .50 caliber machine guns.

  We had been doing this for a few days. Everything was getting relatively routine and somewhat boring. The temperature was beginning to warm up but the nights were still pretty cold. I was on top of a single-story roof in the early morning hours. I was waiting rather impatiently for the speaker to go off and gather me up some playmates.

  I had a new wristwatch. It was a Protrek 2500 from Casio; you can add that to the list of my gear. I was playing around with it, just passing time when the screams started bellowing out of a speaker hidden beneath a park bench across the street. It scared the hell out of me and I almost fell off the roof in a panic.

  “Give me a warning next time,” I barked into my earpiece after giving it a tap.

  The only response I received was laughter from the control room in New Mexico. Hardin isn’t very big on practical jokes, but he seldom misses an opportunity to laugh at my misfortune.

  Anyway, the screams were loud. It wasn’t long before a small group of shamblers showed up and began to look around for the source of the screams. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough of them. I happened to have a bet going on with Javie and only thirty or so shamblers wasn’t going to be enough for me to win.

  I waited awhile. I even started to argue with Dudley over our ear radios while I waited. I can’t remember what actually started the argument, but we were arguing about whether or not Sasquatch actually existed. My reasoning was that if zombies and vampires could exist along with an untold number of other monsters, why couldn’t Bigfoot? Dudley, on the other hand, kept asking for a body.

  “Perhaps Bigfoot dissolves in the sunlight just like vampires do,” I said.

  “Why would Bigfoot dissolve in the sunlight?”

  “Because fuck you that’s why,” I replied.

  “How many showed up?” Dudley asked.

  Abrupt subject changes are relatively common when speaking with Dudley.

  “Looks to be about thirty,” I answered. I’m about to go for my run.”

  “Are you sure you want to get started with only thirty? Javie is gonna beat you easy if you don’t pick up a lot more on the run.”

  I was actually getting a bit nervous about losing the bet but I’m very impatient, and I wasn’t seeing any new arrivals. I just wasn’t going to admit my fear.

  “Yeah, I’m getting pretty bored waiting around. I’ll just make an extra amount of noise.”

  “Wait a minute: shouldn’t you know if Bigfoot truly exists or not?”

  You would think so, but I have no idea.

  “But you hunt monsters.”

  Bigfoot isn’t really a monster. He’s a primate. Or at least that’s what people believe.

  “What about Miriam? She’s the expert on monsters. What does she say?”

  She won’t tell us. She thinks it’s pretty funny that everyone keeps arguing about it. I’m thinking the only way I will ever know for sure is if one of them steps out of the forest and takes a bite out of some camper. Then I’ll get sent out to shoot it.

  “Good point. Now, what was this about a bet?”

  We had a bet over which one of us could lead more zombies to the machine guns.

  “And the loser had to what? Shave his head?”

  No, they had to shave only the left side of their face for one month.

  I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

  “Are you serious?”

  Oh yeah.

  “So did you go for your run or did you wait a bit longer?”

  I went for my run. Like I said, I’m impatient, and the screams were starting to get on my nerves. I jumped off the roof and landed on the sidewalk as loudly as I could. A few of the zombies noticed me immediately and rushed over to my position.

  I used my Sig Sauer pistol without the silencer to bring them all down. I hated wasting a perfectly good zombie. I had a bet to win and shooting all my playmates before I reached my destination wasn’t going to help me any but I was hoping that the loud gunshots would attract more company.

  I was correct in that assumption.

  Not only did the gunshots gather the attention of all the shamblers present, it also excited a group of shamblers that just happened to be around the corner of the street I was going to take, and out of my line of vision. Someday, I’m gonn
a pay for my impatience. I only realized they were there after the speakers shut off, and I heard all the commotion they were making. They were probably originally attracted to the speakers but the sound of my pistol really lit a fire under their asses. I could hear the thuds of their pounding feet hitting the asphalt. I could hear the echoes of their moans and screams. It was a large mob and they came around the corner at full speed just as the previous thirty or so zombies by the speaker sprinted towards me.

  Things never go according to plan when you’re dealing with monsters. My escape route was rendered temporarily useless since the direction in which I wanted to go now had a street full of zombies. I could have tried charging through them but the odds weren’t really in my favor.

  Instead, after doing a pee-pee dance of indecision, I headed in the opposite direction.

  Both groups merged together. I led them down one street and up another before making some right turns, leading them all back to the place we started. It was a good workout. Not the greatest mind you, I couldn’t run full out. If I did, I would have lost my pursuers.

  Keeping the ever-growing mass of zombies twenty feet behind me, I finally headed towards my escape route. That was a big relief, by the way. Being chased by zombies is nerve racking no matter how tough I tend to act.

  I led the growing mass down a long, dead end alley way that was barely wide enough to fit one car. I turned on the speed when I hit the opening of the alley, and I mean I really turned on the speed. I left the shamblers in my dust and damn near slammed into the brick wall of the dead end.

  I grabbed the black rope hanging off the roof and as soon as I shouted out that I was secure, Nick began to pull me up the side of the building. I was climbing over the edge when the first bunch of zombies arrived at the dead end.

  “Looks like I won,” Javie said.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “I have a ton of them.”

  “You might want to check your math again boss,” Javie said.

  I looked down the side of the building and sure enough Javie was correct. Somewhere along the way I had lost about half of my pursuers. I was crestfallen. I just lost the bet. I could already hear Nick laughing heartily as he positioned himself behind one of the two tripod mounted machine guns that covered the alley.