Not Dead Yet

Going off the Rails

The APC comes to an abrupt halt, jarring Zoey to the bone. She's so tired.

"Thank goodness we finally made it to Echo. I don't know how much longer I can keep my eyes open."

Francis reaches out a hand, offering to help her to her feet. "Well, don't quit on us just yet, firebug."

Bill also climbs to his feet. He turns to face the back of the vehicle as the ramp lowers. As it touches the ground, he moves forward to investigate. Before the others can move to join him, a line of fatigue-clad bodies rushes forward.

"Drop your weapons," shouts a man in uniform.

Zoey looks around in horror and confusion. They are surrounded. She can't make out any faces because everyone is wearing masks. Well, not just masks. These are helmets with masks. They look like something fashioned to keep out bio-hazardous materials.

"What ...?" she begins.

"Do it ... NOW! Drop your weapons!"

Francis starts to move forward, a gruff protest on his lips. He is roughly shoved back, and then his arms are seized behind his back. His gun clatters to the floor.

"Hey!" Louis shouts as he moves to defend his friend. He, too, is captured.

Zoey looks at Bill. "Bill?"

Bill looks around at everyone. Francis and Louis are struggling, cursing and grumbling, while Zoey stands there, dumbfounded. Bill shrugs.

"I guess we oughtta do what they say, Zoey."

Zoey shakes her head. Give up her weapon? No way. Bill gingerly lowers his gun to the ground. Then he removes his two pistols from their holsters and lays them next to it.

"That's all I have," he informs the soldiers.

One of them gestures to Zoey with his gun. "You. Now. Weapons on the ground."

She doesn't want to. Everything in her says not to, but what choice does she have? Bill has given up his. Francis and Louis were forced to give up theirs. Heaving a sigh, she removes all of her guns, laying them at her feet.

As soon as she does, they descend upon her and Bill. She is grabbed roughly and pushed forward.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" she asks, desperation seeping around the anger coloring her voice.

They ignore her, but she gets what she's looking for as they speak to each other.

"These two Tango Mikes go in for testing. The other two, the troublemakers, let them cool down in the cells."

"Yes, sir."

"Testing? What testing??" Zoey begins to squirm within the vise grip on her arms. "Bill?!"

"Just stay calm, Zoey," comes Bill's voice. She can't see him because he is being lead away in front of her. There's a line of soldier's between them.

"Francis! Louis!"

"It's okay, firebug. We got this," Francis yells from behind her.

She tries to turn and look at him, but she is forced out of the vehicle and into the compound. She and Bill are pushed and shoved toward a tent with a red cross stitched on its canvas beside the opening. Once inside, she is manhandled into a nearby chair by a soldier.

"Umph," she grunts. She glowers up at him.

Another man moves toward her. He is wearing the uniform of an army medic. And a mask. The masks scare her. They make her feel ... diseased.