Dakota’s hair aside. “Blunt wound, sir.”
“I hit my head on the dashboard,” Dakota replied.
The military man smiled. Dakota stripped his shirt over his head, undid his belt, then let his pants fall to the ground. He stepped out of his underwear with a humble humility he would have never had in a similar situation.
“You’re good,” the man said, pressing a hand against Dakota’s shoulder. “My name’s Corporal Jamie Marks.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dakota said, surprised at the gentle squeeze the man offered. “I’m done then?”
“You are.” Jamie wagged a finger at Ian. His eyes immediately fell to the tattoos on his left arm. “How old’s the ink?”
“Couple of years. I had it touched up three or four months ago.”
“Nothing recent?”
“Nope.” Ian stripped his shirt off. His massive, muscled frame was nearly completely covered with tattoos on his left side.
“Anything we should know about you?”
“Other than that I was in a gang up until recently?” Ian asked. “No. Nothing at all.”
“Your pants and underwear, sir.”
Ian obliged. A swirling tribal tattoo adorned the skin on his right calf, but otherwise he had no tattoos on his lower body. Corporal Marks quickly scanned Ian’s body, taking careful note of the bruises on his side, then looked up at the bandage on his arm. “What is this?” the corporal asked.
“Gunshot wound. I got grazed yesterday.”
“May I see?”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Private Roberts came forward. He took a first-aid kit handed to him by another man in fatigues and opened it up, sliding the rubber gloves over his fingers. He made short work of the bandaging on Ian’s arm, then confirmed it to be a gunshot wound a moment later. “Just a glancing hit, like he said. It looks like the bullet only took off the top layer of skin.”
“He’s good then?” the leading officer asked.
“Yes sir. He is.”
He cleared his throat, then clasped his hands behind his back. “I want the three of you to know that this is a military operating base. My name is Sergeant Armstrong. You’ve already met Corporal Jamie Marks and Private Erik Roberts. These men here are deputies Derek Kirn and Donald Wills. You will obey any orders they give you, no questions asked.”
“Yes sir,” Steve said. Dakota and Ian offered the same reply.
“I’ll have you gentlemen know that you’ll each be given jobs based on your individual talents, which will be assigned by Corporal Marks when he finds fit. Until then, keep to yourselves and stay out of the first floor lobby, which is currently being used as our communications base. If you refuse to comply with any orders, you will be removed from the base—permanently. Understood?”
Dakota, Steve and Ian nodded. The sergeant, in turn, offered a curt nod, then turned and started for the entrance, leaving the three of them with the deputies and military men without another word.
“Everything will be fine,” Jamie said, clapping Steve, Ian and Dakota on the shoulder. “I’ll get the three of you into a room as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, sir,” Steve said. “That was a brave thing to do.”
“No need to thank me.” Jamie turned his gaze on the gate, where a group of infected stood clawing at the chain-link fence. “Go on in, get some rest. Dinner’s at eighteen-hundred tonight.”
Dakota stepped into line with Steve and Ian as they made their way toward the door.
Before he entered the apartment building, he took one last look at the man who’d saved their lives.
“Pretty heavy shit back there,” Steve sighed, collapsing onto a cot in one of the spare rooms.
“No kiddin’,” Ian grunted, seating himself on his own bed.
“Your arm ok?” Dakota asked.
“It just stings a little, that’s all.”
“You did good back there,” Steve said, propping himself up on both elbows.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Let’s just say I have a little more respect for you after all
“I hit my head on the dashboard,” Dakota replied.
The military man smiled. Dakota stripped his shirt over his head, undid his belt, then let his pants fall to the ground. He stepped out of his underwear with a humble humility he would have never had in a similar situation.
“You’re good,” the man said, pressing a hand against Dakota’s shoulder. “My name’s Corporal Jamie Marks.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dakota said, surprised at the gentle squeeze the man offered. “I’m done then?”
“You are.” Jamie wagged a finger at Ian. His eyes immediately fell to the tattoos on his left arm. “How old’s the ink?”
“Couple of years. I had it touched up three or four months ago.”
“Nothing recent?”
“Nope.” Ian stripped his shirt off. His massive, muscled frame was nearly completely covered with tattoos on his left side.
“Anything we should know about you?”
“Other than that I was in a gang up until recently?” Ian asked. “No. Nothing at all.”
“Your pants and underwear, sir.”
Ian obliged. A swirling tribal tattoo adorned the skin on his right calf, but otherwise he had no tattoos on his lower body. Corporal Marks quickly scanned Ian’s body, taking careful note of the bruises on his side, then looked up at the bandage on his arm. “What is this?” the corporal asked.
“Gunshot wound. I got grazed yesterday.”
“May I see?”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Private Roberts came forward. He took a first-aid kit handed to him by another man in fatigues and opened it up, sliding the rubber gloves over his fingers. He made short work of the bandaging on Ian’s arm, then confirmed it to be a gunshot wound a moment later. “Just a glancing hit, like he said. It looks like the bullet only took off the top layer of skin.”
“He’s good then?” the leading officer asked.
“Yes sir. He is.”
He cleared his throat, then clasped his hands behind his back. “I want the three of you to know that this is a military operating base. My name is Sergeant Armstrong. You’ve already met Corporal Jamie Marks and Private Erik Roberts. These men here are deputies Derek Kirn and Donald Wills. You will obey any orders they give you, no questions asked.”
“Yes sir,” Steve said. Dakota and Ian offered the same reply.
“I’ll have you gentlemen know that you’ll each be given jobs based on your individual talents, which will be assigned by Corporal Marks when he finds fit. Until then, keep to yourselves and stay out of the first floor lobby, which is currently being used as our communications base. If you refuse to comply with any orders, you will be removed from the base—permanently. Understood?”
Dakota, Steve and Ian nodded. The sergeant, in turn, offered a curt nod, then turned and started for the entrance, leaving the three of them with the deputies and military men without another word.
“Everything will be fine,” Jamie said, clapping Steve, Ian and Dakota on the shoulder. “I’ll get the three of you into a room as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, sir,” Steve said. “That was a brave thing to do.”
“No need to thank me.” Jamie turned his gaze on the gate, where a group of infected stood clawing at the chain-link fence. “Go on in, get some rest. Dinner’s at eighteen-hundred tonight.”
Dakota stepped into line with Steve and Ian as they made their way toward the door.
Before he entered the apartment building, he took one last look at the man who’d saved their lives.
“Pretty heavy shit back there,” Steve sighed, collapsing onto a cot in one of the spare rooms.
“No kiddin’,” Ian grunted, seating himself on his own bed.
“Your arm ok?” Dakota asked.
“It just stings a little, that’s all.”
“You did good back there,” Steve said, propping himself up on both elbows.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Let’s just say I have a little more respect for you after all
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