John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

“I’ll come by after I get off-shift,” Young said. “Can Billy…secure you?”

“Heh,” Patterno said, starting to laugh. It turned into a full-bore belly-laugh. He finally stopped, wiping his eyes. “Yeah, he can.”

“What’s so funny?” Young asked.

“You’ve never had a problem with my lifestyle,” Patterno said, looking at him. “Any reason for that?”

“I don’t give a shit what a cop does with his or her genitals as long as they’re a good cop?” Young answered. “And you’re a good cop.”

“Oh, I’ve had my times being a bad cop,” Joe said, musingly. “But I’ve always appreciated that you weren’t a flake about it. So I’ve never really tried to screw with you. Don’t screw with me, I won’t screw back. So just… When you come by, just don’t get freaked out that Billy is able to secure me really, really well.”

“Oh,” Young said, grimacing. “Okay. Yeah. I’d say TMI but it’s useful, if, yeah, disturbing information.”

“Hey,” Patterno said. “Guy’s got to have a hobby…”

* * *

“Hi, Bill,” Young said. He didn’t want to be at Joe’s house. He didn’t want to go through with this. But duty was like that. “How’s he doing?” he asked as he stepped through the door.

“Not…well,” Bill Jacobus said. The electrical engineer was tall and slender in contrast to his partner. Young had never seen him wear anything but a golf shirt and fine slacks and that, at least, had not changed. The odd part was that his pant legs were covered in dirt. Then Young realized why. Bill started to stick out his hand, then remembered and ended up wringing them together. “His fever is very high. I’ve given him motrin and water. He’s…” He shrugged. “Thank you for coming. You’re a…good friend.”

“You know why I’m here?” Young said. “If you do…maybe you want to go out for a walk or something?”

“At night with zombies roaming?” Bill said with a breathless chuckle. He gestured up the stairs. “My first husband died of AIDs. I was always careful, even with Thomas, so I never contracted it. The one mercy of this plague is that it’s decently quick. I…since we are in this situation, I will tell you that I…gave the same grace to Thomas. But here…I don’t have the contacts, the materials.”

“It only takes one thing,” Young said, walking to the stairs.

“I could…turn up a morphine drip,” Bill admitted. “Add…some chemicals. I could not have pulled a trigger. That is why you are a good friend. Would you mind if I…? No, I should stay to say good-bye.”

Joe was in the master bedroom spread-eagled on the bed. There was a band across the top of the bed that restrained both his wrists and his head via a collar and his legs were spread and chained. He was dressed in black tacticals and wearing an SFPD badge.

“You guys are serious about your restraints, aren’t you?” Young said.

“I said a guy needs a hobby,” Patterno said. He was visibly sweating and racked with chills.

“How are you doing, honey?” Bill asked, sitting on the side of the bed and wiping his forehead. He leaned over and kissed him where he’d wiped.

“Guys, I’m real supportive of your relationship,” Young said, neutrally. “But I’m still the kid who was raised Southern Baptist at some level. So I’m just going to go outside. You two…chat. When you’re ready, Bill, I’ll be right in the hallway. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Joe growled. “I get it. I mean, I don’t get it but I get it.”

After about fifteen minutes, Bill came out wiping his eyes.

“Just…don’t…” Bill said, his face working.

“I won’t until I’m sure,” Young said. This was getting to be more and more of a pain.

“I’ll be in the back yard,” Bill said.

Young walked back into the room and pulled up a chair.

“Before I get comfy,” he said. “Piece?”

“Side drawer,” Joe said, gesturing with his chin.

Young quickly found the Glock.40. He pulled the slide back far enough to see there was a round in the chamber, then slipped it into his waistband.

“Could I get a drink?” Joe asked.

“Sure, partner,” Young said. There was a bottle of water with a straw in it by the bed. He reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out a pair of thick leather gloves. “Sorry. That old biddy turned so fast it has me nervous.”

“She did turn fast,” Joe said, taking a sip.

“How the hell do you do that?” Young said. “I can’t drink from the prone for nothing.”

“Years of training,” Joe said. “You really don’t want to know. Thanks.”

“You need some motrin?” Young asked.

“I’ve had enough to kill an elephant,” Joe said. “It’s not touching this fever. Or chills. Or aches. I mostly just want to lie here. No offense.”

“None taken,” Young said.

“But there is…” Joe said, then stopped. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“I thought that was why I was here,” Young said.

“Okay, another favor,” Joe said, frowning. “It’s about… Bill. He’s not going to deal with this real well…”

“Joe…” Young said. “I’m willing to accept that there are some people who are just… You know, totally gay and there’s no going back. You realize that there are some people who are just totally straight? And you know I’m one of them, right?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Joe said, wearily. “He’s got no skills for surviving this…shit…”

“Are you saying you want me to help your wife survive the zombie apocalypse?” Young said. “Because it would help a lot of it was, you know, an actual wife . Like, female.”

“I know what I’m asking,” Joe said.

Young thought about it for a second and shrugged.

“I’ll do what I can,” Young said. “But that’s all I’m promising.”

“Okay,” Joe said. “Way things are going, not sure what you could do anyway. You going in tomorrow?”

“Not hardly,” Young said. “I’m done. There’s no way to survive this as a cop. We’re not getting vaccine, we’re not getting support and we’re not doing a damned thing to stop it.”

“We should have quit a week ago,” Joe said, shrugging as well as he could. “I was sort of waiting for you to ring the bell.”

“Ring the bell?” Young asked.

“SEAL thing,” Patterno said. “When you quit BUD/S you ring a bell.”

“Ah,” Young said. “I didn’t know you were a SEAL.”

“Wasn’t,” Patterno said. “Guy on the team in Frisco was. Just picked up the term.”

“I was waiting for you to ring the bell,” Young said. “Bad call on both our parts.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Young sat in silence after that, occasionally giving Joe water, for about an hour. Then Joe started to struggle against the straps.

“Spiders!” Joe snarled. “Get the spiders off! No, no, no, nooooo, aaaaaRRRRR….”

Young waited until he was sure, then put on a pair of nitrile gloves, pulled the Glock from his waistband and put it under the chin of his struggling partner. He pulled back carefully; you could blow a shot even at this distance, and felt the hammer give. The top of Patterno’s skull was taken off, blasting over the seafoam green sheets.

Young unstrapped Joe’s right hand, then wrapped it around the butt of the Glock. Last, he laid both on the upper chest. It wouldn’t survive a detailed forensic examination but there wasn’t going to be one. The last forensics tech in the department had gone zombie three days ago.

He walked out and shut the door, walked downstairs and exited the house.

From here on out, it was every man for himself.