Sanity | Ghorror [C]

Chapter 51 | Headshot

They planned on driving us into the infested grounds. It was the majority of Nevada now. I wasn't looking forward to when we hit Vegas. That city is huge, and it has to be just crawling with zombies. For now though we just have small dessert towns to clear out. They suggested we split up, but we all declined. We're not letting the government break us apart again.

"Find a place to set up shop for the day. Take survivors there and once you have the two clear, we'll drop in and pick them up." One of the army men told us.

"What about supplies?" Balz asked.

"We'll send you in with some. Tomorrow night when you're stopped at a rest point we'll drop in some more." He replied.

"And mobility? Are you expecting us to walk through everything?" I asked.

"I've gotten that taken care of." Ricky said, "You did tell me to give Mike his Camaro back."

I looked over to Kuza and he grew the most sinful smile. He's a simple man. All he needs in life is a weapon, his woman, and a fast car. He likes his vapes every once and a while too. We all need a good smoke from time to time. I guess I'm not much different. Give me a victim, a hole to fuck, and a cigarette and I'll be happy. Just two months ago that list would've included Ricky. Funny how fast things change.

We reached the area on the outside of the town where the army had set up. The general approached us. Well, Ricky, because he was the one with the FBI badge. The rest of us looked like no good Satan worshipers.

"This isn't your jurisdiction." The general told Ricky.

"My jurisdiction covers threats against humanity. It was the FBI's fault this happened anyways. Besides, your men are too scared to go into that mess, so be thankful we're here." He sneered.

The general eased up and simply walked away. Pussy. He should be fucking thankful we're here, even if they're sending us in because they think our lives aren't worth the air we breathe. I don't give a shit as so long as I get to kill shit. We all loaded out of the convoy that brought us here. Another vehicle was opened and a few more agents stepped out. They brought out gun crates and we were told to go pick our poison.

The agents watched us with judgement but I didn't give a shit. Yes, I'm a six foot tall goth in trampy clothes. I could also kill you with a fucking spoon so don't judge at first sight. There were carbines, rifles, shotguns, snipers. I was a little more interested in the hand guns and knives. Those, I work best with.

"Where'd you dig them up?" An agent asked Ricky, in referring to us.

There was a beautiful Smith & Wesson handgun. I picked it up, loading the barrel as I listened to the conversation.

"Instead of citizen soldiers they're criminal soldiers." He responded.

"You created a real like suicide squad." The female agent said.

"Pretty much." He responded, "Maybe if this goes well we can start using them for more shit."

I loaded in the pistol in my hand and daringly pointed it at him. It gave me a sense of satisfaction to see his face targeted by a gun in my hand. "A deal's a deal. This is all we agreed to."

He didn't flinch because he knew I wouldn't shoot. I lowered the gun again and slipped it into the back of my jeans. Ricky leaned against the convoy I stood in and looked up at me as he replied, "Let's be honest. You're going to kill again after this and you'll end up in ADX again. Would you rather that rot away in that cell, or get to see the world killing national enemies?"

I stepped down from the truck and seethed, "I am a national enemy. How would your precious America react if they knew you were giving away soldiers' jobs to serial killers?"