Read Online Plagued: The Rock Island Zombie Counteractant Experiment (Plagued States of America) by Better Hero Army - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Better Hero Army
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a drink.
Mason had no trouble agreeing with her, thinking of his own past and what he wished he could forget, but drinking never helped. It only emboldened the memories. He shook off such thoughts and took a deep breath. “So what is it I’m getting into?”
She gauged him a second, not pressing him on what he’d said. “I want to test your eyes. Can you tell me what kind of tattoo those two men playing pool have without looking?”
“The one with black hair and a beard doesn’t have any tattoos,” Mason said. “The other one, the guy thin as rails, has sleeves of tats covering both arms. I only really made out a skull on his left arm and a lot of fire on the right. You, on the other hand, have a dove on your right ankle.”
“You noticed?” she asked with a wry smile , raising her eyebrows. “What else about me did you notice?”
“Does this count as productive? I mean, this place is a real hell-hole, like you said.”
“Humor me,” she went on , still smiling.
Mason considered a moment before opening his mouth. Was she leading him just to disarm him, to worm her way through his defenses? He still couldn’t trust her. For as long as they had been sitting together, she had yet to say anything substantive.
“You don’t have a badge or wallet anywhere on you, not even the pockets of your lab coat.”
“You can see in my coat?” she asked in surprise, looking at herself.
“When you put it down. The pockets, I can see them from here,” Mason said while pointing.
“Oh, well , that’s good. For a second I thought maybe you could see down my shirt too,” she said and laughed.
Mason smiled and picked u p his beer to have another sip. “Your phone has a pink frame,” he told her. “The one in the pocket of your skirt.”
“How the hell did you see that?” she asked, looking down at her lap.
“Last night. You were carrying it in your hand.”
“Damn, you are observant.”
Mason shrugged and took another sip of his beer. She unzipped her pocket and withdrew her pink phone. “You don’t see many of these on the island,” she said while swiping the screen to login. “Signals are jammed over here, at least the public band. This one, though,” she said, shaking it for emphasis. “This one is on a private frequency. Do you know why I’m allowed to have this?”
Mason shook his head.
“Because I’m in charge,” she said. “Can you work with that?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Great, then why don’t you tell me why you’re here tonight?”
“Your salad,” Mason said, leaning back in his seat. She shot him a questioning glare for a split second. The bartender stepped up next to the table and put a salad down in front of her. She began to laugh again, an intoxicatingly real, hearty laugh that worried Mason. This was all a game to her.
“Get me another, would you , Mac?” she asked the retreating bartender, pointing at her glass as she raised it to take another sip. “So why are you here?” she asked Mason.
“I was assigned.”
“No, here, tonight. You called me. This number. That means you want in. If you didn’t want to play ball, you would have just served your six months and gone home like the others.”
“Others?”
“Oh, do you think you’re the only person we’ve assigned here?”
“I still don’t understand.”
“You don’t mind if I eat, do you?” she asked. She took a bite of salad and looked as if she were lost in thought a moment as she chewed. “Answers. All right. Well, before last night’s brilliant zombie killing of yours, we wanted your help in closing this place down once and for all.”
“Close it down?”
“In the military, you’d say it’s no longer of strategic importance.”
“But close it?”
“Look, don’t you think America has had enough of the zombie plague?” she asked.
Mason had heard nearly those exact words from the Senator’s mouth. It made him feel like he was listening to talking points. The difference
Mason had no trouble agreeing with her, thinking of his own past and what he wished he could forget, but drinking never helped. It only emboldened the memories. He shook off such thoughts and took a deep breath. “So what is it I’m getting into?”
She gauged him a second, not pressing him on what he’d said. “I want to test your eyes. Can you tell me what kind of tattoo those two men playing pool have without looking?”
“The one with black hair and a beard doesn’t have any tattoos,” Mason said. “The other one, the guy thin as rails, has sleeves of tats covering both arms. I only really made out a skull on his left arm and a lot of fire on the right. You, on the other hand, have a dove on your right ankle.”
“You noticed?” she asked with a wry smile , raising her eyebrows. “What else about me did you notice?”
“Does this count as productive? I mean, this place is a real hell-hole, like you said.”
“Humor me,” she went on , still smiling.
Mason considered a moment before opening his mouth. Was she leading him just to disarm him, to worm her way through his defenses? He still couldn’t trust her. For as long as they had been sitting together, she had yet to say anything substantive.
“You don’t have a badge or wallet anywhere on you, not even the pockets of your lab coat.”
“You can see in my coat?” she asked in surprise, looking at herself.
“When you put it down. The pockets, I can see them from here,” Mason said while pointing.
“Oh, well , that’s good. For a second I thought maybe you could see down my shirt too,” she said and laughed.
Mason smiled and picked u p his beer to have another sip. “Your phone has a pink frame,” he told her. “The one in the pocket of your skirt.”
“How the hell did you see that?” she asked, looking down at her lap.
“Last night. You were carrying it in your hand.”
“Damn, you are observant.”
Mason shrugged and took another sip of his beer. She unzipped her pocket and withdrew her pink phone. “You don’t see many of these on the island,” she said while swiping the screen to login. “Signals are jammed over here, at least the public band. This one, though,” she said, shaking it for emphasis. “This one is on a private frequency. Do you know why I’m allowed to have this?”
Mason shook his head.
“Because I’m in charge,” she said. “Can you work with that?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Great, then why don’t you tell me why you’re here tonight?”
“Your salad,” Mason said, leaning back in his seat. She shot him a questioning glare for a split second. The bartender stepped up next to the table and put a salad down in front of her. She began to laugh again, an intoxicatingly real, hearty laugh that worried Mason. This was all a game to her.
“Get me another, would you , Mac?” she asked the retreating bartender, pointing at her glass as she raised it to take another sip. “So why are you here?” she asked Mason.
“I was assigned.”
“No, here, tonight. You called me. This number. That means you want in. If you didn’t want to play ball, you would have just served your six months and gone home like the others.”
“Others?”
“Oh, do you think you’re the only person we’ve assigned here?”
“I still don’t understand.”
“You don’t mind if I eat, do you?” she asked. She took a bite of salad and looked as if she were lost in thought a moment as she chewed. “Answers. All right. Well, before last night’s brilliant zombie killing of yours, we wanted your help in closing this place down once and for all.”
“Close it down?”
“In the military, you’d say it’s no longer of strategic importance.”
“But close it?”
“Look, don’t you think America has had enough of the zombie plague?” she asked.
Mason had heard nearly those exact words from the Senator’s mouth. It made him feel like he was listening to talking points. The difference
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