An Undeclared War (Countdown to Armageddon Book 4) (14 page)

     “And these,” he said, holding up the latex gloves, “are just to protect yourself from the ‘yuck’ factor. You’ll be lifting bodies that have been decomposing for months. Without these, you’d be getting all kinds of disgusting stuff on your bare hands. And that’s not good.”

     Rhett didn’t argue.

     Once they were masked and gloved, Scott took two cans of fluorescent green spray paint and they approached the residence at 2407.

     Scott called out in a loud voice.

     “Hello in the house!”

     There was no answer.

     He took his nightstick and rapped on the door several times.

     He looked at Rhett and explained.

     “Never barge in unless you’re sure the house is empty. Sometimes the survivors are afraid to open the doors to strangers. They may think we’re looters or bandits. If you go barging in before convincing them that we’re the good guys, they might start shooting.”

     He rapped again.

     “Hello in the house. We are the police. We mean you no harm. If there is someone in the house, please tell us before we enter.”

     He listened and heard nothing but silence.

     Then he recited the phrase in Spanish, taught to him by one of the Spanish officers.

     “Somos la policía. No queremos hacerte daño. Si hay alguien en la casa, por favor díganos ahora.”

     Again, nothing. He felt confident enough to make entry. The door was locked. He put a shoulder into it once, twice, three times.

     The third time was the charm.

     They walked through the house, room by room. They didn’t smell any decaying bodies. That was a good sign, but they performed a thorough search anyway.

     From the looks of the house, it was obvious it had been looted.
But it hadn’t been lived in for a very long time. Probably not since the blackout.

     Finally, satisfied there were no bodies, they left the house and painted a large checkmark on the front door.

     Then they moved on.

     “Someone lives here,” Scott observed.

     “How can you tell?”

     “The windows are clean. In the other house they
were so dusty and grimy you couldn’t even see through them. The windows are a dead giveaway, even when the yard is grown over with weeds and high grass.”

     He yelled, “Hello in the house!”

     Sure enough, after a few seconds came the plaintive cry, “We’re well armed. What do you want?”

     “We’re the police. We’re just checking up on you to make sure you’re okay.”

     “Well, we’re okay. Leave us in peace.”

    
“Do you have any dead bodies that need to be disposed of?”

     “No.”

     “Very well. We’ll leave you then.”

     The men turned to leave, when the voice cried out again.

     “Hey, police!”

     Scott stopped and said, “Yes, sir?”

     “Look next door. 2411. They’re all dead. Shot themselves months ago.”

     “Okay. Thanks.”

     Even without the neighbor’s tip, it wouldn’t have taken long for the pair to have discovered the bodies. Though it had been months, the smell of lingering death penetrated their nostrils even through the smell of the rub and despite the mask that covered them.

     As they walked into the house, Rhett made a point to look at the front window.

     Just as Scott had said, these windows were dirty and dusty, and not even transparent anymore.

     Apparently survivors placed great stock in being able to see who was approaching their homes.

     The dead, on the other hand, had no need to.  

-25
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     The bodies were so badly decomposed it was no longer possible to identify the men from the women, the boys from the girls, except for the clothing. That, and the long blonde hair of one of the children, who appeared to be a girl of about seven.

     The skulls were still intact. Whatever had killed them, they weren’t shot in the head. That had been the choice of death for most who could no longer take it in previous months.

     They might have been shot in the heart by their parents, who then did the same to themselves. But even that couldn’t be determined by looking at the bodies.

    There were no weapons present, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. The door had been forced open long before they got there, and looters had already ransacked the place.

     Someone, perhaps even the man next door who provided the tip, had torn through the kitchen and taken anything capable of being eaten or bartered. Guns were easy to barter, and that would be one of the first things the looter would take.

     In the end, it didn’t really matter. Chances were, the children were the victims of mercy killing by their parents, who then committed suicide. And even if the parents were still alive to stand trial, there were no homicide detectives to investigate the case and arrest them. There was no legal system to try them. And in all likelihood, no jury would have convicted them anyway. Not for killing t
heir kids who likely were dying from the plague or from starvation.

     So there was no report to write. There were no arrests to make. All that was left to do was to collect the bodies and dispose of them.

     The body dressed in men’s clothes, who they presumed to be the father, was closest to the doorway. So they started with him.

     His body was almost mummified. They’d died in the dry weather months, cooped up in a house where temperatures probably reached a hundred and twenty degrees at times. The moisture from the body evaporated over time, turning the skin into leather.

     Rhett grabbed the man’s hands and proceeded to drag him out the door.

     Scott could have called out to Rhett, to warn him of what was about to happen. But sometimes the best way to teach someone is just to let them try the first method that comes to mind and then fail at it.

     It’s a guaranteed way to ensure that method will never be tried again.

     So Scott merely stood back and watched. Rhett dragged the man about fifteen feet toward the door before the man’s arms, first the left and then the right, simply broke away from the body.

     Rhett stood upright and looked at Scott. In his right hand was one arm, separated at the elbow.

     In his left hand was the other arm, separated at the shoulder.

     Scott tried not to chuckle, but even through Rhett’s mask he could see the puzzled look that said, “Okay, now what?”

     Scott said, “Go ahead and lay those in the street. When you get back, I’ll show you a much better way.”

     When Rhett returned a minute later, Scott showed him how to grab the shoulders of the man’s shirt, and use it to drag the body.

     “The clothing is usually stronger than the decomposed body. It won’t tear away as quickly.
”

     Sure enough, by grabbing the man’s shirt
and pulling, he was able to drag the body all the way to the street without any further mishap.

     Next closest to the door was a small child of about three. Scott took
a sheet from the linen closet and wrapped her in it. Rhett followed Scott’s lead with the girl with long blonde hair, and they carried the two children out to the street.

     They very gently laid them on the street, on top of their father. For some reason, Scott felt that carrying child victims was much more dignified than dragging them.

     Rhett was a fast learner. He grabbed the shirt of a boy of about sixteen and dragged him out. Then he returned to help Scott with the last of the victims, presumably the mother.

     The mother, inexplicably, was naked. Rhett gave Scott a puzzled look. Scott just shrugged and said, “I don’t know, but I’ve seen it before. Maybe she was bathing or changing when he killed the children and came rushing out to stop it. Or maybe some sick bastard hear
d the shots and came in to steal the gun, and wanted to see her naked. I gave up wondering about things like this the second or third day on the job. You will too. Let’s just focus on getting them out there.

     Rhett retrieved another sheet while Scott moved the furniture out of the way. They laid the sheet next to the mother and then rolled her onto it. Then, to give her the modesty she no longer cared about but deserved, they rolled her up in the sheet to hide her nakedness.

     From house to house they went, up one side of the block and down the other. As their shift was nearing its end, Scott called in to the San Antonio Fire Department.

     “Fire Dispatch, this is Charlie
Four Six.”

     “Welcome back, Charlie
Four Six. We’ve missed you.”

     “Thanks. I wish I could say it was nice to be back, but I’d be lying.”

     “Understood. How can we help you?”

     “Do you have a unit that can do a controlled burn in the 2400 block of
Green Plain Drive?”

 
   “I think so. Fire Two Two, are you still on the west side and available?”

     “Roger and roger, and we copied. Two four zero zero
Green Plain Drive. ETA ten minutes. Scott, we heard you have yourself a new rookie.”

     Rhett groaned and Scott smiled.

     “Roger that.”

     “Did he puke yet?”

     “No, he’s still holding it in.”

     “Well, good for him. Any pup that doesn’t puke the first day’s a keeper for sure.”

     “Roger that.”

     Fire D
ispatch cut in.

     “Hey, Fir
e Two Two. A little radio discipline would be nice.”

     “Oops, sorry.”

     Scott took off the latex gloves and mask, dropping them on top of the bodies to be burned along with them. Rhett did the same, and noticed for the first time that the stench was a lot stronger that he realized.

     “We’ve got enough time before shift change to hang around here and watch, if you want to see the rest of the process.”

     “Sure. Might as well.”

     Five minutes later a sparkling clean ladder truck with the San Antonio Fire Department patch on each door rounded the corner two blocks away. It used no lights or siren. What they we
re doing wasn’t an emergency. It was merely a service, for the dead as well as the living.

     While his crew was pulling hoses off the back of the rig, the driver came over and shook Scott’s hand.

     “I heard about your lady, Scott. I’m sorry.”

     “Thank you, Mark. I appreciate that. Mark Delgado, this is Rhett Butler.”

     “For real?”

     Rhett had heard it all before.

     “Yep. For real.”

     “Well, this sure ain’t
Tara. But welcome aboard anyway, Rhett.”

     Mark reached out his hand and Rhet
t shook it.

     “Scott tells me you haven’t retched yet. Good for you. Any rook that can hold his lunch
until the end of the first day is a good rook, in my book.”

     Mark looked at Scott and said, “Hey, did you see what I did there? ‘A good rook in my book’… I’m a damn poet. How about that!”

     Scott said, “Yeah, yeah.”

     Mark looked at Rhett and smiled.

     Rhett said, “Yeah, well, don’t give me too much credit. I may still puke yet.”

     Mark backed away in mock horror and then walked away.

     He looked back over his shoulder and called out, “Hey Scott… if he’s Rhett, does that make you Scarlett?”

     Scott called back, “Hardly…”

     Mark’s crew had two hoses unrolled and hooked up to the truck’s auxiliary water tank. Mark took a can of diesel fuel from the back of the truck and doused the first pile of bodies. Then he took a match and set it ablaze. Immediately, a thick plume of acrid black smoke lifted skyward.

     This stench was different than the first, but equally as bad. Rhett started to turn green, but managed not to vomit.

     Scott explained the process.