Pack Animals [An Undead Post-Apocalypse Thriller] by Cain Kenneth W

Author:Cain, Kenneth W. [Cain, Kenneth W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Infected
Publisher: Distressed Press
Published: 2019-02-11T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 39

When the men stormed into town, Glenda’s initial concern was for Orson and the fact he had gone missing. She didn’t know if that meant these men had killed the boy or maybe left him for dead in the vast land beyond their compound. How could she put that past any soldier after such a stupid war? These soldiers looked more like mechanical monsters to her, dressed up in elaborate space suits. Though she fully understood they were human. She saw the roundness of their faces in the yellow tinted visors. All the uniforms were dark blue, almost black, save for one. That soldier wore a color similar to merlot wine, their apparent leader.

The man wearing the seven-foot merlot suit nodded, but his suit did not simulate the movement. “Ma’am.”

Glenda did not acknowledge the greeting, still busy scanning the grounds for Orson.

“What the hell are you all doing here?” Paul spoke with contempt. He would feel the same as she did. Something didn’t feel right about these soldiers.

She wondered if they might divulge any information about Orson if they knew anything. Her hands started perspiring. She worried they might have taken Orson. Either way, how could she break the news to Sydney, that she’d lost Orson?

“Did you see a boy?” she said, panicking. “We’re missing one.”

Their leader said, “We were sent by the President to clear the area of hostiles. But we haven’t seen anything in the immediate area.”

Glenda’s angst got the best of her, and she charged the red-suited man with her fists raised. “Did you shoot him? The boy, did you kill him?”

“Honey, please.” There was a hint of uncertainty in Paul’s voice. “These men aren’t here to shoot boys? Are you, son?”

The response came from one of the blue-suited men, a white number three painted on the side of his helmet. “No Ma’am. We didn’t shoot your boy.”

“We’ve also been ordered to escort any survivors to the decontamination area.” The red-suited man glanced at number four, indication enough of what he was to do. Number four walked beyond the school, surveying the perimeter of the building. “As long as none of you have been infected, we will proceed to sector three together.”

“Clear the hostiles? Decontamination area? Sector three?” Paul’s gaze thinned on the leader. “Son, we don’t have a clue what the hell you’re talking about.”

The other survivors had gathered behind Paul, most of them whispering. Glenda heard a half dozen reasons why they shouldn’t go.

“Right, sorry.” Number five explained. “The decontamination area is what you would refer to as Woodlawn Mall. There, you will be evaluated, and, if found to be infected, we have the ability to prevent the disease from progressing by using antibodies.” The man looked back to their leader, receiving the nod to continue. “Sector three is what you know as Pittsburgh. That is a safe place.”

Number two chimed in. “We have secured most of the northeast with the shoreline housing our command central. Sector one, the area that houses our president, is and has always been Washington D.

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