The Cover-up

The power of ICE was absolute. They could arrest anyone for anything. Or could they?

Contest Prompt

WC 1172 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjQeciaoAwA&embeds_referring_euri=https%3A%2F%2F...

“I know what you’re thinking,” Max said. He stuck a gnarled bony finger at Fred’s chest. “ICE agents make a lot more money than cab drivers.” He paused to drink more of his brew, shook the bleariness from his eyes and continued, “You think you’d be saving the country, rewriting history from us drowning in illegal alien criminals to restoring democracy. It ain’t so.”

“You’re drunk,” Fred leaned back from the hard smell of liquor clouding Max’s breath. He’d signed the contract. All he had to do was return it and the job was his.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this but I am. I’m sick and tired of hiding the truth.” Max caught his balance by leaning back against the requiting station’s stone wall. “It ain’t poor slobs picking our fruit and cleaning our toilets because they’re scared of getting killed in their own country that are the problem.”

Fred rolled his eyes. Here came the far left’s next conspiracy theory fresh baked from his brother’s mouth. “Let’s get it over with. What’s the real problem?”

The word hissed out of Max’s mouth like a snake, “Zombies. Harder to kill than the smell of a dog turd. That’s why ICE is railroading them as fast as they can into holding centers, then out of country. May be against the law ‘cause a lot of zombies are citizens by birth and still citizens by death, Don’t matter. We’re in crisis. If the public knew, we’d lose what little control the government has.”

Max leaned over and threw up half the contents of his stomach. He wiped his lips, took a pull from his half empty bottle and nodded. “Truth, brother. What do you think those illegals are running from? South America is full of the Zombie hoard. We’re infected, too. ICE is doing their best to sort the living from the living dead. It ain’t easy.”

Fred had heard the horror stories of overzealous ICE agents hunting court rooms, farms, even public sporting events, to ruthlessly round up anyone acting differently than normal. America deserved better. He was going to be part of the solution, besides the money was good. “You done?” he asked.

“Not hardly.” Max aimed a tired slow swing at Fred’s chin. “Knock you out. Keep you out of harm’s way.”

The fist missed by a mile away. It ended by Max hugging his brother as he slid slowly to his knees, then flat on his face. Fred leaned down to help him back up and to walk Max back home. “Mom is going to be pissed. Your first day back from the border and look at you.”

“Don tell Mom I got bit. I got only a lil time left. Warn everybody,” Max mumbled, alcoholic drool dripping from his mouth.,

“Bit where?” But Max began to buzz with eyes closed and body as limp as a rubber doll. Fred eyed the distance to his car and sighed. Another day wasted. He had to take care of his brother instead of turning himself in for ICE duty.

“Maybe they’ll increase the going monthly wage again.” There was a real shortage in agents, that was a known fact. Fred took Max by the shoulders and began dragging him to his all wheel drive RAV.

“You look half dead, brother.” Fred paused under the street light. “How long has this drunk been going on? How’d ICE let you get away with it? They must be hurting real bad.”

The back door to the recruiting center whined open. “Hey.. You all right?”

“Could use a little help getting my brother to my car. He’s stone cold drunk and unconscious. Hit his head falling down. Ma will stitch him up.”

“Didn’t I see you in here earlier today?”

“Yeah. Signing up. Got the contract right here in my jacket pocket.”

“I’ll take it. I’m the recruiting officer you met. Al Garlin.” The man approached. A hand shot out under the street light, then the rest of him appeared. “Who’s this? He looks familiar.”

“My brother. He just got back from duty at the Texas border.”

Al Garlin nudged the silent figure with a boot. “He been checked out by medical?”

Fred eyed his car again. “Max is on leave. He’s drunk is all. Out partying to relieve the overtime tension.”

“Sure. Still needs a medical release. Make sure he’s not infected.”

The words shook Fred to the core. “Covid becoming a pandemic again?” It had hit his father pretty bad back before the shots were made available. His dad had tried the Trump Hydroxychloroquine liquid cure and nearly died when Covid hit his lungs.

Al waved the suggestion away, reached down and began dragging Max back towards the recruitment center. “Got a place he can sleep this off inside. Get him O.K’d in the morning. That all right with you?”

Fred thought about it. “No worries. Maybe you can give me my ICE assignment at the same time.” He felt relieved that their Mom wouldn’t have to see Max this way..

The two of them managed to half drag, half carry the dead weight of Max inside. “Sorry. Have to do this. It’s the only place with a bed in it.” Al pointed to the iron bar cell and shrugged.

“It’s all right. I’ll sleep on the floor next to him.”

“Can’t allow that. I’ll have to isolate him, lock him inside until the med shows up.,”

Max groaned and threw up the rest of his stomach. Fred touched his brother’s brow. “He’s got a fever. Can’t you get your medical person here now?”

“Overworked like the rest of us. I’ll slip him some aspirin and water.. Best I can do.”

Fred paced the open cell while Al retrieved the pill and a glass of warm water. “You do it. I don’t want to get bit by accident.”

“For an ICE agent, you’re pretty namby-bambie.” Fred took the two pills and forced them into Max’s mouth. Water followed., He almost lost a thumb as Max coughed, gritted his teeth and snapped at him.

“Geez. Stop kidding around, Max.”

Fred felt Al’s hands jerk him away through the cell door as it was slammed shut and locked. “He’s one of them. A Zombie. He’s infected.”

Max woodenly woke up, jerked onto his feet and walked towards them. “Hungry.”

The flesh around Max’s head wound was turning black and blue. Pus eased out, dripping into his face. Max didn’t bother wiping it away. “Come here, Fred.”

Truth dawned on Fred’s face. “Zombies, and my brother is one of them. It’s really true.”

“Sorry you had to learn it this way,” Al said. “Can’t kill em without burning them into ashes. He’ll be deported into a South American maximum security prison where the others are. Lucky I caught you when I did.”

Al continued, “Don't know how many were created with the Covid epidemic. Hit some. Missed others. Bad side effect for sure. Keep ‘em fed with animal brains. Calm them down. The ratio of guards per prisoners is too low. If they got agitated, they’d riot and get free. They have an instinct to go back where they came from, like homing pigeons. We’ve got enough trouble as is.”

Fred learned when he started his tour that was one of the temporary measures used to keep the population as safe as possible. There was no complete solution. The drug cartels kept control of their areas by firing darts of toxic Fentanyl.into the living dead
The amount could be as small as a grain of sand to be effective. It would kill a normal human being. It didn’t kill the monsters but knocked them out long enough to pour gasoline on them and create a funeral pyre.

Fred hoped that was the case with his brother Max. He had nightmares of the Zombie version getting loose and finding his way home to greet their Mom.