Season 1 (closed)
Season 2 (open and looking)
Jon sat at an empty table for a few moments, sipping some orange juice with a splash of vodka while he waited for his contacts to show. He smoked, which he hated, finding it not only a disgusting and unhealthy habit, but also couldn’t stand the addiction people found themselves falling victim too. But, this area of Europe, you were more apt to draw attention NOT smoking, and this mission called for him to blend in well, not stand out.
The two men he was waiting for came into the patio and were looking for him when he reached up and snapped once loudly, as was a custom in this city, so no one really looked at him save for the two people. They walked over and sat down just as the waitress came over and took their drink orders.
Jon sipped his own drink and looked at the two, one man he was not familiar with while he recognized the other, Anthony. He smiled at the big man, laughing inwardly at the fact that he was often called “Ant” in spite of the fact that he towered over most men. They waited in silence for the woman to come back and set down the drinks and move on before finally talking. The stranger spoke up first, speaking a dialect of Slavic well, with very little hints of being learned. It wasn’t local, but it wasn’t a dialect that was so off as to draw attention. “Anthony, I believe you met Ken before. So no introductions are necessary.” Prick, probably some CIA mole or some other bureaucratic acronym that hating being out on missions because there was no air conditioning or room service.
“I’ve not met this man before,” he interrupted, seeing the slight play of a smirk on Anthony’s face. The suit cleared his throat and sat up, “I thought the file—“ he caught himself about to break and shut up quickly. Good, let the little prick sweat a little bit. Jon sipped his drink again and waited through the awkward silence a few moments longer as the suit started to get a little moisture on his face.
“You were going to introduce your companion, yes?” He threw the idiot a bone and he jumped on it. Games had to be short in this business, but they were still fun to play. The suit opened his mouth, but Anthony cut him off, extending a hand and saying “Ken yes? I’m Anthony. You’re here visiting, yes?” Jon nodded and leaned back in his chair, smiling on the inside as he could see the suit fussing at basically being of zero use in the situation. That’s right, shut up and drink your whiskey.
“My contacts told me you were looking to potentially procure some art work also, yes?” Another nod was given. “Good. I know just the man you’d like to see. I know his next appointment, you’ll be able to see him very soon and sit down with him and discuss any details and information you feel you need to.”
“Good mate, at least one of you came prepared, eh? Let’s go. It’s customary for the youngest at the table to pay, so have at it.” Anthony and Jon got up, finished their drinks and made their way to the street.
Then they stopped suddenly. Everything actually stopped. Him and Anthony were looking at each other.
“Jon.” He simply stared at Anthony.
“Jon, wake up.” Something wasn’t right.
“Jon, fuck. WAKE UP.”His eyes flashed open and he smelled smoke and mud and he was looking at Boggs. He looked over and saw Harris in the bench seats, awake, but bleeding from his nose and he was paler than an albino ghost. Then Jon realized the back of his head was throbbing intensely and could feel a small open wound.
“Jon. Shit man. Let’s go. There’s smoke. I’m not sure what or who is gunna see the smoke.”
“Too late,” Jon replied and pointed out the back end as three men closed on the bird.”
“OI. No one move,” one spoke up. There were two in front, one with a revolver and one with a shotgun. The other was further off and had an AR15 in his hand. They obviously weren’t killers, they could have just shot the three up and been on their way. Austin put his hands up a bit and turned slowly to face them. Harris just stared.
The second of the two spoke up. These two were very casual and careless while the third, the one hanging back had his weapon at the ready and never took his eyes off of the group. “What’s the hell’s going on here?”
“We got a in a fender bender. The other asshole left without giving us his insurance information,” Jon shot back. Although he was pissed and irritated and in pain, he kept his tone light and smirked slightly. He wasn’t trying to get into a shoot out, but he didn’t know what these people wanted. “What’re you about?”
The two laughed, Boggs smirked and Harris…he still stared. The first spoke up, “Wish we had the need for more comedians like you, but, not sure if you’ll see any job postings for one soon. I’m Danny. That’s Tom and the lurker, that’s Frank. You all ok?”
Boggs spoke up “well enough, considering,” he swept his arms in a wide arc, emphasizing they had just been in a helicopter crash.
There were a few chuckles. “Look, we’re not used to taking in strangers, and we dunno who you are or what you’re like. We’ll extend an invite to our camp if you give us your guns. At least til we can trust you?”
“We’re not extremely comfortable with that,” Jon answered, again keeping his tone mellow and non-threatening.
“I understand completely. But at the same time, it’s our camp. Our rules. And we’re not too comfy with random people coming into our camp. Could be murderers for all we know.”
“Likewise,” shot back Boggs.
“True. But if we were off to shoot you, we’d have done it from the top of the hill. Frank there, he’s a pretty good shot. Trust us. The three of us, we have no intentions of hurting you guys.”
Something wasn’t right about the three. The two smirked at that last statement, as if sharing a joke. Frank, he just seemed eager. But they had little choice right now, so Jon nodded to Boggs, who then said, “fair enough. If you had some motrin and bandages, that would make up for it though. I’m Austin, this is Jon and that one’s Harris. He doesn’t have any weapons.”
“Sounds good. We have some hot food too. Glad to have you aboard.”
The group gathered whatever they could salvage, including a mounted first aid kit, and made their way off out of the bird, avoiding water and mud as best as possible. Tom and Danny didn’t bother to frisk them, so all in all they took one of Jon’s glocks, but the second one was tucked away in his back. They talked as they moved, Frank staying ahead about 10 feet while Tom and Danny kept Austin and Jon in front of them. They didn’t seem to give a shit about Harris, he just stumbled along in silence. Tom mentioned the camp was just ahead over a ridge, inside the treeline.
That prompted Jon to ask, “are there more of you?”
“Yeah, three more. I think you’ll like them,” Danny answered, noticing that again they laughed and looked away, trying to be casual about something that was meant to go unnoticed. The whole time, Jon tried to seem weak, dragging his feet and talking with a slight grogginess to his voice, moaning about his head on occasion. But he was noticing all of this, and something wasn’t right.
At that point, he stumbled and fell and kind of stayed down on his hands and knees. An annoying look flashed across Tom’s face and he stopped right over Jon. All of the mirth was gone from his voice when he roughly prodded Jon with his boot, “get up. We gotta make camp, I’m not carrying you.” Jon reached up and put a hand feebly on Tom’s waist to pull himself up. Tom brushed his hand away, not noticing that Jon had taken the knife from Tom’s belt and tucked it, hilt in his palm and blade along his wrist.
“Help him up man, what the fuck,” Boggs said as he moved towards the two, Danny put his hand on his revolver and his other hand out to block him. “Don’t,” was all he said.
Once again Jon put a hand up, this time, grabbing at Tom’s wrist, again trying to pull himself up, but this time as Tom went to shove him away, he pulled down with all of his weight while shooting up, stabbing the knife up into the bottom of Tom’s throat and into his brain. Never slowing, smooth as silk, he spun, leaving the knife there while pulling his handgun from the back of his belt and positioning Tom’s body between Frank’s and his own. He snapped off two shots, both taking Danny in the upper torso, mere inches from where Boggs stood and spun, firing at Frank. To Frank’s credit, he got off his own shot that hit Tom full in the chest a fraction of a second after he fired. One hit him in the chest, the other in the neck and he went down while his blood sprayed out from the wound.
“Jon, what the fuck are you doing?” Jon ignored it, walked up to Danny and calmly shot him in the face. He turned from Boggs and made his way to Frank, who was still kicking his feet and gurgling. “Jon!”
“Something wasn’t right.”
“No shit, the whole FUCKING WORLD is full of zombies. You don’t just shoot people because something isn’t right.” At this point, Harris just stared and was shaking and Austin, he didn’t know what to do, what to think. It was as if Jon was someone else. ‘Something isn’t right,’ he thought to himself.
Jon made it to where Frank laid, and stared down at him. He looked into Frank’s eyes, but spoke to Bogg. “Austin. An hour ago. You trusted me, right?”
After a few moments of silence, “yes.”
“Trust me now.”
And he fired a shot into Frank’s head.