Madame Deux Ex saw their souls float out of their corpses. She pitied them, even though the one had ruined her antique tiller with his blood.
She raised her hands and, in a powerful voice, she commanded the souls to stay put. They listened. Madame Deux Ex then focused on the dead bodies.
With a thought, she cast an incredibly powerful reanimation spell that sewed all their parts back together flawlessly. Even the one man’s suit would be fixed.
With another spell, Madame Deux Ex forced the souls back into the bodies.. With that, she was expended.
Unfortunately, she didn’t notice the headless monstrosity walk up to her while she was casting. With brutal efficiency, the thing lobbed off Madame Deus Ex’s head.
***
Johnson awoke next to the tiller on top of which he believed he had landed. He looked to his right and saw Andy stirring on the ground next to him. Johnson thought he saw Andy being decapitated a moment ago. Interesting.
Johnson stood up. No pain, amazingly. He looked down at his suit coat. No rips or blood. Interesting.
He felt around for his Berreta. It was in its holster with a fresh magazine. Then he reached down to the back of his belt. Four new magazines. Interesting.
Andy stood up and looked shocked. Before he could say something, the giant creature they were fighting stomped up from behind them. They turned around and saw it holding a beheaded female corpse. Before the agents could pull out their guns, gunfire burst out from behind them. They turned around again and saw five dark forms firing automatics from the massive hole in the wall at the creature. Before long, the goliath and it’s flying companion had been gunned down.
***
“I’m Strike Trooper HH 020. We too are soldiers for MJ 12,” the leading figure said from behind a gas mask. No part of the man’s skin was visible. He added quickly, “Follow me back to our holdout. This place will be crawling with zombies soon enough.” Then the soldier geometrically gestured to his team and the fell back behind him, protecting the two agents.
Johnson and Andy willingly followed. Along the way back to the unusual soldier’s hideout, they talked quietly.
“I fell somehow less powerful than I did before I woke up,” Andy whispered.
“Yes,” Johnson agreed, “I feel somewhat less skillful. It’s almost as if our abilities had drained to the way they were before we were time-warped.”
Then their conversation was cut off by the lead soldier’s gestures. He ordered his team to surround a doorway and then knocked a pattern on the door. Andy heard something behind moved inside and then the door unlatched and swung partially open. Everyone snuck inside.
***
“Their life signs just went blank,” Frink said with horror.
Bionic looked up from his sandwich as he lazily swatted a fly. “So?” he said.
“That means they’re dead,” Frink explained.
Bionic dropped his sandwich.
***
“Who are you?” Andy asked as one of the soldiers locked the door and slid a piece of furniture behind it.
“I am Strike Trooper HH 020. We are soldiers for MJ 12,” the lead trooper stated matter-o-factly. Then he added, “Like you.”
Johnson recognized the initials from somewhere. Somewhere he had been more than once . . .
Andy confusedly asked, “What’s ‘MJ 12?’” The agent had to bat away dozens of flies that had gathered around corpses.
The strike trooper raised his automatic at Andy. Then the leading trooper turned to Johnson and ordered, “MiB Delta Delta Two Niner, tell me who this man is that you’re escorting.”
Johnson then remembered what the initials MJ 12 stood for. “The Majestic 12,” Johnson said quietly.
Andy thought a bit and then exclaimed, “The Majestic Twelve? The conspiracy theories are true!”
HH 020 snapped at Andy, “Another outburst like that and I’ll gun you down. We don’t want to attract the undead hoards here. Now then,” the trooper said as he turned to Johnson, “I assume this is a surviving Bureau 13 agent you’re transporting, Delta Delta Two Niner. Where did you find him? Has he been infected?”
Johnson stated blankly, “My name is not DD29. It’s Mark Johnson.”
HH 020 might have looked shocked if anyone could see through his gasmask. Then again, he probably didn’t express it anyway. “‘Mark Johnson’ is the codename of the test model for all dd29 units. His whereabouts have been lost. How did you learn of him? And why are you impersonating him?”
“I am not impersonating him. I am him.” Johnson knew this soldier would have information about his past. He wanted to ask dozens of questions, but he had to wait.
Just then, another strike trooper came running down a set of stairs to them. “Sir,” he said militarily, “The zombies heard us. They’re headed here with something big next to them.”
Before the lead strike trooper HH 020 could respond, a metal bar shot through the wall of the holdout building and went straight through the commander’s head, impaling him on the opposite wall with lighting speed.
“Get down,” Johnson ordered Andy.
***
“We have to get out of here!” Andy yelled above the scattered gunfire.
“Follow me,” Johnson ordered as he dodged around the room toward a fogged window. Looks like Johnson wasn’t getting his chance to find out about his past after all.
Andy observed Johnson aim his gun at the window, fire, and then jump through it before all the glass landed. Andy looked back at the dead strike commando and saw the wall opposite the corpse being torn off. Several soldiers were running for cover. Andy decided to follow Johnson. Once outside, the agents had their fair share of zombies to kill. Luckily, they were able to race around another shop and duck into an abandoned restaurant.
Once safely inside, Andy looked around and said, “I wonder if they have any burgers. I’m starving. And I need to use the bathroom.” Andy’s cold, emotionless demeanor had faded a while ago.
“The sign says there’s a bathroom down that hallway. Make certain the area is clear first,” Johnson said. Andy left for the hall and Johnson reloaded his Berreta. Outside, he head the shuffling of zombies mixed with something else. The distant gunfire had subsided. The strike team was dead, and Johnson figured that whatever killed them was looking for him and Andy.
Then Johnson recognized the ‘something else’ mixed in with the shuffling as running human feet. Then a couple of whimpers and cries confirmed it. Someone was out there.
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