Gasoline | Ben Parish

51

"WHAT the fuck is going on?"

We stand at the edge of the road, dumbfounded as we look at what was once Camp Haven. The gates are destroyed; the building has caved in; debris are littered across the ground and airborne. Somewhere in the distance is the thick swiping of a chopper's blades pushing through the air. I can see the shape of an airplane near the obstacle course, and figures in blue jumpsuits being loaded onto it.

"I think the better question is: what did Zombie do?" Ringer says from my right. Her slender pale fingers curl around her rifle, searching for comfort in its grip.

"No way that this was all Zombie," Dumbo speaks up. "Not with a hole in his hip."

"Shut up. Zombie is hardcore," Teacup defends.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, a hardcore softie. I agree with Bo. There's someone else in on this." Now it's my turn to hold my rifle a little tighter. "...but we can worry about that later."

"Croak is right. Zombie and Nugget are what we came here for, and we're going to get them. Any other insurrectionists can be dealt with later."

Teacup frowns. "What the hell is an 'erectionist'?"

Poundcake chokes on a laugh, ruddy face turning an even darker shade in the cold. I have to fight a laugh too.

"Insurrectionist," Dumbo pronounces very clearly. "That means a rebel-"

"Someone sticking it to the aliens, like we are," I cut off his close-to-textbook definition. "They're good guys."

Ringer purses her lips. "Maybe," she offered. "We don't know for sure. We can figure it out later. For now-"

"Zombie," I interrupt, antsy.

"Right." She gives me a look. "And Nugget."

I shrug. "Nugget too, I guess." She ignores my flippant attitude. I think it's because she knows that, deep down, I'm prepared to save the tiny nuisance too.

___

WE sneak around the edges of the crumbling Air Force Base, but we don't really need to be so stealthy. There are no guards. Everyone is evacuating, and we have no idea why. It makes me uneasy. What if Zombie and Nugget are stuck on the plane, about to be hauled off to who knows where?

No, Zombie wouldn't let that happen. He's too smart and stubborn. He would use this evacuation to his advantage.

...what if he's already gotten away from here, and is waiting back at the rendezvous point?

No way. Not his injured ass – especially if he's taking the little stinker with him in this snow.

I take a deep breath as we crouch behind a crate of supplies, trying to decide our next move in finding Stupid #1 and Stupid #2. Get ahold of yourself, Croak. Everything is fine. Stop over-thinking everything. Just because nothing has gone right so far doesn't mean it will continue to go wrong, right? You're going to catch a break somewhere.

Fat chance.

Ringer's dark head leans close to me; her hot breath tickles my neck. "Let's steal a Humvee," she proposes.

I can't stop my grin, mind leaving all the haunting possibilities. "I like it."

Dumbo scoots closer to the edge of our cover. "I see one," he reports. "Maybe twenty feet away. If we stay low, we can probably get it."

"Sold." Teacup pushes her hair over her shoulder. "Let's do this."

Poundcake nods firmly, then looks to me, as if to ask, 'Are you leading this?'

I pat his shoulder. "After you, big guy." Then, after a half-second hesitation, I say, "You've got this."

Of course, my whole squad freezes and looks at me like I've gone completely Dorothy. They don't know the change I've undergone, the internal merging of the two sides of me.

They better get used to me being nice, otherwise I'll start punching throats.