Rotters by Cart Carl R

Author:Cart, Carl R. [Cart, Carl R.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Spore Press
Published: 2013-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

OPS ORD 15-1

CAPT. CHRISTOPHER, BE ADVISED THAT NOA PREDICTS SEVERE WEATHER IN THE CONGO REGION.

HEAVY RAIN IS FORECAST FOR THE NEXT THREE TO FOUR DAYS, POSSIBLY LONGER.

ORDERS END

Chapter 8

08:00 a.m. Zulu

The Congo

Central Africa

I awoke to find Sgt. Dyson poking me with a stick. The sun was above the tree line. I could smell coffee and someone had fried some reconstituted eggs. I sat upright and stretched. I could hear bird noises, and no one was screaming, so I assumed that there were no zombies present.

“I got you a little present last night, Doc,” Dyson suggested mysteriously.

“Really,” I replied. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“Aw, that’s alright,” he said. I climbed out of my bag, scratched my nether regions, and wandered over to pick through what was left of breakfast; at least there was coffee.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?” Dyson asked.

“Not really,” I replied. I figured he was screwing with me. I fixed myself a cup of Government Issue coffee and drank it quickly. It seemed like it was going to stay down so I chased it with crackers and cold eggs, then more coffee.

“Come on, Doc,” Dyson pleaded. “Check this shit out.”

“Oh, alright,” I responded.

“Bring your kit,” Dyson suggested.

I picked up my pack with a groan and sleepily followed the sergeant outside the perimeter to the base of a large tree. Three headless zombies were propped upright around its base. They moved feebly, straining at their restraints. Each had been neatly nailed in place with steel tent stakes. I looked at the sergeant, he seemed very proud of himself.

I yawned. “Where are their heads?” I asked.

“What?” he replied.

“You know, their heads,” I suggested. “They aren’t any good to me without their heads.”

Dyson looked crestfallen and confused.

“I am totally messing with you, Sgt. Dyson.” I finally relented.

“Damn you to Hell, you cock sucker!” Sgt. Dyson laughed. “I wore myself out dragging these bastards in here. You totally got me!” he laughed again.

“Good work, actually,” I said as I moved to examine the corpses. “I should be able to do some serious work on these fellows,” I exclaimed, “and cross examine them, since I have three to work with. All joking aside, excellent work, Sergeant.”

“My pleasure, asshole,” he replied and added. “If you just ate, I wouldn’t stand too close.”

The smell hit me like a punch in the stomach as I approached the struggling zombies. I gagged, and almost threw up. My reaction surprised me. I thought I was totally immune to the smell of rotten human flesh, but this was something new, even to me.

“They reek,” I mumbled through my hand. I had thrown up a little in my mouth.

“We call them ‘rotters’,” Dyson replied.

The zombies were extremely rotten. “Were these things ambulatory?” I inquired.

“Yea, all three of them were up on the road, just walking along. I ambushed them and brought them down here. The heads are still up there if you really want one,” he replied.

“Nope, I’m good,” I answered. I spit and pulled my AVR into position.

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