Emergency Broadcast (Infected City Book 1) by Boris Bacic

Author:Boris Bacic [Bacic, Boris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

Pierce

The air was electrified with tension. Voices barked orders from various directions while men in fatigues buzzed to and fro. There was something artificial about the whole atmosphere, Pierce realized. This outbreak was a huge problem, which meant a lot of pressure was placed on the top brass. No mistakes would be allowed.

“Captain Reynolds?” a voice next to the unit said. A lieutenant saluted Reynolds and said, “Sir. Right this way.”

He spun on his heel and led the unit toward a cluster of erected tents.

“How are the defenses holding up?” Reynolds asked.

“So far, so good, sir,” the lieutenant said. “No one’s getting out unless we allow them to.”

“Any patrols around the wider perimeter?”

“No need. We managed to get the walls up before this thing could spread.”

Pierce saw the side of Reynolds’s face contorting into a grimace. Mistake, that face said, but he chose to say nothing. That wasn’t what they were here for.

“The general’s waiting for you in there.” The lieutenant stepped aside and gestured to one of the tents.

“Understood.” Reynolds nodded and broke into a stride forward.

Pierce heard the raised voice even before he set foot inside the tent.

“I don’t care how you do it. I want it done! You understand me?!”

“Yes, sir.”

A large desk stood in the middle of the tent, a map of Witherton splayed over it. Various markers were placed around certain spots of the map.

A stocky man with snow-white hair and a uniform adorned with rows of flashy service ribbons was jabbing a finger at the chest of the major who stood stock still in front of him, spittle flying out of his mouth with each word he shouted. “And if you can’t patch it up, I’m sending you personally down there to cement it. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” The major replied.

“Get the fuck out of here and handle it.”

“Sir.”

The major saluted the general and ran out of the tent without so much as glancing at Pierce and his teammates. The general placed his hands on his hips and stared down, worry accentuating the flabby ridges of his old face.

“General?” Reynolds said, which finally caught the man’s attention.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“We’re Alpha Team. HQ sent us here.”

“Alpha Team,” the general echoed as if probing his memory to try and recall who the hell Alpha Team was and why HQ would send them. He threw one hand up then and said, “You’re late, Alpha.”

“Stopped for a smoke break. But looks to me like you guys are doing a good job handling this situation,” Lincoln said.

The general shot Lincoln a venomous look. He looked about ready to catapult a whole volley of colorful insults at him.

“Can it, Lincoln,” Reynolds said.

The unit was detached from regular military and, therefore, didn’t answer directly to the general. Knowing this, Lincoln never passed up the opportunity to be sarcastic. Pierce wondered if he’d always been like that and, if so, how he managed to make it through boot camp in the first place.

The general’s gaze lingered on Lincoln a moment longer as if contemplating whether to let his ironic remark slide.

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