Guardians of the Apocalypse (Book 4): Zombies of Infamy by Thomson Jeff

Author:Thomson, Jeff [Thomson, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Twisted Synapse Books, llc
Published: 2019-12-22T05:00:00+00:00

115

COMMSTA Honolulu

ISC Sand Island, Oahu

“Anybody home?” OS2 Bill Schaeffer, freshly showered, and in a reasonably unwrinkled uniform, asked, stepping into the Comm Center, after entering the code given to him by ET2 Scott Pruden, three days previously. It seemed an unnecessary security procedure, given the only real security threat came in the form of mindless, pissed off, crazy people who occasionally added human flesh to their diet (and hadn’t the intellectual capacity to negotiate anything as complicated as a door knob), but old habits died hard, he supposed.

It was the first time he’d been off the Sass in...what day was it? Damn near the first time he’d been out of the Sass Radio Room, except for the occasional trip to the restroom facilities. Now that all sorts of multi-unit chaos was about to commence, however, he’d decided his skills might be put to better use in the Comm Center, and LCDR Wheeler agreed.

OS2 Amber Winkowski nearly jumped out of her chair at the sound of his voice.

“I see you didn’t get the word,” he said, in his laconic drawl.

“What word?” She asked, clutching her chest.

“Clusterfuck, apparently,” he replied. “I’m here to help.”

“Jesus!” She exclaimed.

“Just Bill will do.”

The joke seemed to snap her out of her potential coronary. He smiled.

“Guess I’ve been spending too much time alone,” she said, returning his smile with a sheepish one of her own.

“I have no idea what that’s like,” he replied, deadpan.

She stared at him for a moment longer, then turned back to the radio console. “Misery loves company,” she said. “Have a seat.” She waved at all the other empty chairs. He took one - though, in truth, he’d been sitting so much lately, he felt sure his ass must be flat. The sharp twinge he felt radiating outward from his sore tailbone told him he needed to get out more.

“What’s the status?” He asked.

She smiled and waggled her eyebrows at him. “The game’s about to begin.”

“Babies in the surf?” He asked, using the familiar term for utter chaos.

“Nuns on fire,” she replied, apparently with her own version. Ah, gallows humor...

“Yippy skippy,” he replied, his voice utterly deadpan.

“...All stations, this is Polar Star,” the voice boomed through the console speakers. “Commence the operation.”

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