Monkeying Around Read online

  And as his wife had ordered, he was retiring.

  But only after one last mission.

  Together, they would fly to England, where they’d meet up with SOTIF4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, and then fly to Germany to rescue her mom.

  Well, to exfil the three hundred seventy-seven personnel, military and civvie, still believed to be holed up in that base, but her mom being part of that by default.

  “I don’t understand why we can’t go with you, sugar,” Alpha said once again as he stood there with his arms around her. “You say the word, Arliss will make it happen.”

  She turned in his arms and stared up into his eyes. “Because I need to do this,” she quietly said. “I’ll be back.”

  “You can’t promise us that. You don’t know what you’ll find.”

  “You two have a final mission of your own. You have to go do your job. You have your orders.”

  “Anyone can do what we’re doing.”

  “No, they can’t. You’ve been there already. You know the land.” They had to help run needed lab samples to Mexico so they could get caught up on Kite vaccine production. After that…then they were free men, and the Drunk Monkeys could go their separate ways.

  “Germany’s a communications black hole now,” Alpha said, still hoping to change her mind. “God only knows what’s going on there.”

  “We’ve got plenty of vaccine for all the personnel and civvies holed up there. I know my mother. That door didn’t get cracked open for anyone once she sealed it. She’d protect that damn base with her own life.”

  Which was what Tank was hoping hadn’t happened, but she wouldn’t admit that to her men. She was already having a difficult enough time countering their reasoning.

  She didn’t want them in greater jeopardy than they’d already be in, and Germany was an unknown. She’d rather charge in there at her father’s side with a group of guys she wasn’t emotionally vested in.

  It would hurt a hell of a lot less to lose any of them.

  It would kill her to lose these two.

  They’d lost all contact with the base in Germany six weeks earlier. Massive waves of Kiters had been sweeping through the area, virtual stampedes of humanity swarming through and over everything in their wake, leaving little standing behind. The cold winter had smothered much of the Kite infection, but then when spring thaw hit and people started to move around, especially when emboldened by news of a vaccine, it’d turned a manageable situation into an explosive one that had toxically blossomed out of control within three weeks.

  The only good thing was that people were dying in less than two weeks if they got the severe form of the disease.

  The bad news was anyone in the path of the Kiter tsunami either became infected, or was killed by the raging Kiters. Livestock and early spring crops had been obliterated, creating a food shortage that only exacerbated the situation by forcing people to go on the move, which increased their risk of catching the disease or being killed.

  Computer simulations showed that the worst of the Kiter wave, which had started in southeast Europe and moved north and east, would likely burn itself out by the middle of November, leaving behind a ninety percent fatality rate due to the disease and murder.

  That meant Europe would be heading into another winter with severe food shortages and a decimated work force. Infrastructure had been destroyed in many places, meaning unless people had fireplaces or wood-burning stoves for warmth, they might likely freeze to death because electricity and natural gas no longer flowed in many areas, not to mention water and sewage systems had been shut down, damaged, or destroyed.

  Madrid, Paris, Rome, Brussels, Munich, Frankfurt, Amsterdam, Athens—all history, populated by terrified pockets of survivors surviving by scavenging and from US military air drops of supplies onto rooftops.

  The personnel at the base wouldn’t survive through another winter there. When they’d locked down, they’d had twice the number of persons in military and civvie numbers than the small air wing base’s emergency shelter had been equipped to handle.

  But the very first thing that had to happen was re-establishing communication with the base. Securely underground, it’d been constructed to withstand a nearby nuclear blast. They needed to get in there and evaluate what had happened. Satellite data was sketchy due to smoke, haze, and clouds in the region.

  The unspoken hope was that Kite hadn’t somehow infiltrated the base and infected and killed everyone inside. That the communications failure was simply due to the giant herd of Kiters sweeping through the area and destroying antennas in the process.

  “I can’t move forward until I know for sure,” she said. “I need to know I did everything I could to make sure she’s okay. I don’t want to be Annie, going in for a recovery mission, when there’s still hope she and the others are still alive.”

  “But why can’t we go with you?”

  “Because I love you too much,” she whispered. “Because you two are safe now, and I can’t stand the thought of you guys dying. I can’t focus and do my job if I’m worried about what’s happening.”

  “Your father’s going.”

  “Yeah, he’s leading the mission. And I went through countless war games with him. No offense, but other than Manila, I’ve never been on a mission like this with you.” She gentled her voice. “Please. I’ll come back.”

  Papa had finished and returned to join them on the balcony. “Still can’t talk her out of it?”

  “No, dammit,” Alpha said.

  Papa held her gaze. “You’re ours,” he said. “And we’ll wait forever for you. But you promise us you’ll come back.”

  She knew they knew as well as she did that it wasn’t a realistic promise, but she’d still make it.

  Because they asked her to. “I promise I’ll come back to you.”

  Alpha grabbed her hand. “Fair warning. We get you back, we ain’t never lettin’ go of you again. That five-year’s coming out, and we’re going to be climbing all over you until you’re pregnant. You got a problem with that, say so now, sugar.”

  She swallowed hard, the mental vision of that making her weak in the knees.

  It was a damned nice fantasy. One she hoped they would be able to make come true sooner than later. “I promise.”

  Papa smiled, leaning in closer. “You coming back to us means you want us for life, the way we want you for life. He’s right. You won’t have that damn five-year out for five minutes before we start fucking your sweet brains right out of your head.”

  Her throat went dry. “Deal,” she managed.

  Papa pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “When you come back to us, you’re done. You’ll be out of the military and taking orders from the two of us. No more missions, nothing. We’ll all officially and unofficially be retired. For good. Our only mission, together, will be seeing how quickly we can expand the earth’s population.”

  She smiled. “Deal.”

  Alpha kissed her. “Don’t you dare fucking die on us. And that’s an order.”

  “You take Connell and Gatsby for me,” she said. “You know I’ll come back to finish that business.” She’d decided that, wherever they ended up settling—and she knew Arliss or Bubba or someone would be able to help her find her men—that’s where she would eventually decide what to do with those two urns.

  “Deal,” Papa said. “Now let’s go inside and spend some time not talking.”

  “Deal,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  October 31st, and the weather was only slightly milder than it had been during the summer. The clinic was closed for afternoon siesta, and Papa had volunteered to help India out since Paul and Ellen were taking a well-deserved day off for themselves and little Lucy. Sometimes Papa still caught himself calling India Clara, but settling into civvie life was getting easier.

  Right now it was toward the end of siesta. Both India and Mama—India’s Mama, not Julie Chu—had left for lunch, leaving Papa alone at the clinic. They were in
the process of building a large wing onto the clinic, paid for by a generous grant from the Church of the Rising Sunset, who also now helped underwrite all of their clinic’s expenses, and had purchased them more equipment. The new wing would hopefully be finished by New Year’s and ready for business.

  They’d received a new shipment of supplies that morning, flown in by Kyong, and he was going ahead and inventorying them and getting them put up, which required some rearranging of the storeroom. He’d been pitching in helping with the construction, or doing repairs or odd jobs around the clinic, acting as security when India had to go out on runs—busywork.

  Safe busywork.

  Boring busywork.

  Considering India was three months pregnant, he didn’t want her lifting anything, hence why he didn’t have a problem doing stuff like this for her.

  He suspected Lance and Vance were doing more at home with her than just eating lunch, too. It was good to see the two men smiling all the time. They had purchased a farm on the outskirts of Colima and were learning the ins and outs of raising livestock and produce.

  That wasn’t really his style, so he and Alpha helped with the clinic and sometimes filled in helping Gia out with the small but increasingly well-trained and well-supplied police department. Now the actual chief of police in Colima, Gia was permanently stuck with the moniker of “Chief,” whether she wanted it or not.

  But helping at the clinic gave Papa something to do. Something to keep his mind occupied.

  Something to keep him from focusing on Noel and the fact that they hadn’t heard anything from her in months, since just before she and her father and the other SOTIF teams had left to make their assault on the Kiters still in the area around the base in Germany.

  Bubba remained stubbornly quiet on the issue. The last time Papa had tried to get intel from the man, he’d simply said, “You know how this works. You’re a civvie now. If she was hurt or dead, I’d tell you. Leave it at that.”

  Today, Alpha was over at the police station, pulling a shift there to fill in for a desk officer taking the day off with his family. Serious crime in Colima was non-existent, fortunately, limited to the occasional domestic dispute or drunk squabble at a bar on a weekend.

  Speaking of booze…

  Mama, India, and the other med staff weren’t back yet, so Papa grabbed a bottle of the homemade tequila from the fridge in the storeroom to take a belt.

  No, it wasn’t good for him, but he only allowed himself a couple of fingers of the crap a day. He’d just uncapped the bottle when he heard the clinic’s front door open and realized someone had returned from lunch a little sooner than he’d expected.

  “Watch out,” a man spoke from the doorway behind him. “I’ve heard that shit’ll rot your gut.”

  Papa wheeled around to see Doc grinning at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Papa set down the bottle of homemade tequila and walked over to hug the man, smacking him on the back. “Holy fucking shitballs! I thought you guys were in Chicago?”

  “We were.” He stepped aside and pointed, revealing someone else standing there. Pandora waved, smiling, swooping in to give him a hug, too.

  “Holy…look at you!” Papa hoped it wasn’t rude to put a hand on her swelling belly. “I’m assuming—”

  “I’m four months along,” she said. “I didn’t want to have our baby in Chicago.” She grinned at Doc. “Besides, I wanted him to be born here, where I could have a qualified medical team helping to deliver him. Chicago is, no offense to my home city, a raging shithole right now with the Finance Reform riots.”

  “I heard about those.” They’d sprung up in the past two months, when Chicago Stock Exchange and business bigwigs had tried to derail the finance reforms being pushed through Congress.

  The common man wasn’t liking that shit at all, and they were emphatically and vocally protesting it in the streets. Fortunately, Arliss had gotten his message through to the Wall Street wizards in New York and they were publicly supporting the measures, which were expected to easily pass. The national elections were next week, and so far, it looked like the slate of candidates Arliss was pushing would win handily, considering the fast recovery their nation was making in most regions.

  “Where’s your sister and her family?” Papa asked.

  “Unloading at their new house,” Doc said. “We caravanned down here and dropped them off first.”

  “No one told us you were coming.”

  “Because it was supposed to be a surprise,” Doc said. “Lots of surprises. Didn’t you notice a lot of houses are starting to get built or have been bought?”

  “Well, come to think of it—”

  Tango walked in, a box in his arms. “Hey, Papa. Where’s this go?”

  Papa scrubbed at his chin. It was a real reunion. He’d have to get used to using their civvie names, too. “What is it?”

  “Supplies.” He set it down on a counter in the back room. “Presents from Bubba.” He hugged the man.

  “Good to see you guys. How is Bubba?”

  “Ask him yourself.” Tango grinned as he pointed to the front door, where an older black man in a wheelchair wheeled himself in.

  Papa crossed the clinic’s waiting room and stopped once the man was all the way in. “Bubba?”

  The man grinned. “In the flesh.”

  “I don’t know if I’m supposed to salute you or hug you.”

  The man winced as he slowly stood and opened his arms. “I’ll take a hug. Neither of us are property of the government any longer. And you can call me Mike, if you want. Either way, I’m not picky.”

  Papa hugged him, maybe longer than he’d intended, but he didn’t care. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything. You fucking saved our lives many times over.” He finally released him, and Bubba lowered himself into his wheelchair again.

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  “You son of a bitch, what about Noel? Where is she? Is she okay?”

  Bubba didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced around. “Where’s Alpha?”

  They usually went by Sam and Ken now with everyone else, so it was weird to hear someone else call him that. “He’s over at the police station, volunteering. Manning the desk for the afternoon.”

  “Huh. Well, that’s a shame.”

  “Why?”

  Bubba turned, put his fingers to his lips, and whistled, loudly.

  When the door opened, Papa thought maybe his heart would stop right there.

  At least he’d die happy if it did.

  Noel offered him a bashful smile. “I was told I could talk to a nurse practitioner here by the name of India about getting my five-year removed. Am I in the right place?”

  He let out a happy shout as he swooped in, grabbed her, and kissed her hard, deep, and so long that even Doc started loudly clearing his throat.

  “Why didn’t you contact us?” Papa asked her.

  “She couldn’t,” Bubba said. “And you can blame that on me. She was still technically government property up until a few weeks ago. Don’t blame her. We needed her help on a couple of things that cropped up since a certain group of monkeys bailed on us.”

  Papa stared down into her eyes, eyes that had haunted his dreams. “You’re here for good?”

  “I’m here for good. If you guys still want me,” she quietly added.

  He kissed her again. “That answer your question, baby?”

  She offered him a smile. “You keeping Alpha in line?”

  An idea came to mind. It would likely start another war of practical jokes between them, probably for years to come.

  But it’d be totally worth it.

  Then India walked in. “Hey—holy crap! Oh, my god, look at you guys! What—”

  “India! Follow me.” He grinned. “Everyone, clear out and wait in the storerooms out of sight for a couple of minutes.” He grabbed Noel’s hand and dragged her down the hallway toward the exam rooms. “Keep the doors closed until I sound the all clear.”

 
“What do you need me for?” India asked, sounding confused.

  “I’ll explain in a second. Just come here.”

  * * * *

  I’ve been reduced to a damn desk monkey.

  Kenner Chasco, once known as Alpha, worked on a sudoku game on his tablet.

  There was no crime in Colima. Had hardly ever been any even before they’d returned. Even less now that he, Sam, India, Lance, Vance, Enrique, Dolce, and Leland had returned to live here in May. Even less than that once Ray, Cedric, Gia, Gil, Quentin, Donna, Paul, Mickey, and Leta had arrived to stay a few weeks later. Sometimes a drunken brawl on a Friday or Saturday night when someone had too much to drink, but it was quiet.

  That’s why it literally startled him when the desk phone rang. He picked it up.

  “Policía.” His Spanish was rough, but getting better thanks to help from Cedric, India, and John and Robert Juarez, who were part-time deputies for the small police department.

  It was getting easier to remember to use everyone’s civvie names, even though he still switched back and forth between real names and code names, but he still thought of them as his teammates.

  It startled him even more to hear Sam’s serious tone over the phone. “Got a situation over here at the clinic. Need you ASAP.”

  Ken’s pulse thrummed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Full protective gear. Now. Exam 1. Double-time.”

  “I’ll call in—”

  “No time! You, now, alone! That’s an order!”

  A dial tone met him.

  Fuck.

  It didn’t matter they were equals now. That tone of voice spurred him into immediate action. In less than a minute he’d donned a flak jacket, helmet, grabbed a shiny new plexiglass shield that hadn’t even gotten a single scratch on it yet, and went racing out the door and down the street to the clinic. It was nice to see his training hadn’t fled him yet, and he only had a second to think about that before he hit the clinic door at a dead run.

  Nine drawn, he stopped at the closed exam room door. “Sam?”