Even Zombie Killers Can Go to Hell by J F Holmes

Author:J F Holmes [Holmes, J F]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 311

Later that night was a formal ball, or reception I guess you could call it. I don’t know, I hated the damn things. It seemed like a waste of resources and time; the band playing while the world burned. We had only a few days until we were going on a mission with an untrained, untested crew.

Brit, on the other hand, was enjoying the hell out of herself. She actually held up the receiving line, and everyone in earshot, when she started telling the story about how I’d taken a shot at Epson and missed.

“So there’s Nick, all ready to take him down, and wham! the shot misses by a country mile! Of course he was probably all worked up about the fist fight him and the President got into a little earlier, but everyone on the teams knows that my husband can’t hit the broadside of a barn with a sniper rifle.”

Even though Epson was laughing, and his, um, date, was smiling, the Secret Service guys behind the President looked like someone had just poked him in the ass. I gently took Brit by the elbow, said, “Thank you, Mister President,” and guided her away to the buffet.

“Are you trying to get me shot?” I grumbled to her.

She laughed and said, “No one cares, Nick. It’s an entertaining story, and no harm done. Now come on, live a little! You of all people know we never can say how much time we have.”

I tried to lighten up, I really did, but I felt like a fish out of water there. There were dozens of Generals and Admirals, milling about and pressing the flesh with politicians. Part of me wondered where they’d been hiding while the Apocalypse took down the world, and I started looking at their ribbon racks, trying to tell who had done what, and who deserved to be punched if they opened their mouths.

Brit saw me doing it, rolled her eyes, and dragged me out onto the dance floor. Meaning I kind of shuffled here and there, feeling like an idiot, while she reenacted her days as a student trying to earn college tuition money, not that she ever had. She COULD have, mind you, and looked even better now. I’m not gonna lie, I actually stopped dancing and just kind of stood there and watched. The Celtic cross tattooed across her back was evident to everyone, and she even made the movements of her new hand seem sinuous. I think every guy there, and not a few women, pretty much stopped to watch. I saw one old lady smack her husband, a three-star admiral, upside the head. I thought of a long-ago picture on the internet of an officer’s wife at a Military Ball who was showing way too much leg as she ground her crotch into someone. It was funny at the time; now I was grateful that Brit was only dancing by herself.

“Are you done?” I asked her as the music changed over from a heavy dance beat to something much more formal.

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