Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 15): Fury by Shawn Chesser

Author:Shawn Chesser [Chesser, Shawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sort1
Publisher: Morbid Press LLC
Published: 2021-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Cade hadn’t lingered in the lot while Harley drove off for any other reason than he was dreading all that he had to do once inside the Bunker. All alone with the ghosts of his past, there would be nothing to distract him. No inane banter to take his mind off of yet another senseless loss.

Lugging his kit, he scaled the short stack of stairs leading to the nondescript steel door at the rear of the hangar. Pressing his hand to the biometric pad gained him access. The lights in the corridor were dimmed to their lowest setting.

He pulled the door closed behind him, then paused for a second, luxuriating in the conditioned air while his eyesight adjusted to the low light.

The steel door to the Bunker was at the end of a long hall. Placing his hand on a biometric pad identical to the first opened the door. Entering the Bunker, he hit the light switches, bringing two dozen fluorescent tubes online. Save for the massive table and dozen or so chairs positioned around it, the team room was empty. Which made sense. Everyone not currently on an operation or preparing for an impending mission was at FU-BAR, toasting Lopez and numbing out to the fact that they could very well be next. To a person, dying from Omega and then reanimating was a fate worse than being stuck in Purgatory for all of eternity.

Commingling with the sweet smell of gun oil was the lingering odor of a recently smoked cigar.

Smokey was the culprit. When the four-star wasn’t actively puffing on a Cuban Cohiba, one was either protruding from a pocket or trapped between his teeth. The man was nearly a decade and a half older and reminded Cade of a character in a comic book his grandfather had once given him. It was all there: the ubiquitous cigar, perpetual five o’ clock shadow, Sergeant Rock physique, and an unflinching can-do attitude. Only thing missing was the M1 helmet with straps dangling. In its place was Blake’s cover of choice: the beret he’d earned decades ago. And it was always canted just so, leaving one eye in perpetual shadow.

To say Smokey was old school would be the understatement of the century. No different from Desantos, General Blake was firmly set in his ways. And everyone who knew the man understood that it was his way or the highway.

Cade spent the first hour or so cleaning his weapons. Writing the after-action report took the better part of another hour. Finding the words to justify the side trip to Arlington West, all while keeping the others out from under the bus, stretched the limits of his writing prowess. Finished, he wrote a note to Nash and sealed it in a separate envelope. It was identical to the first and bore her name on the outside. The ask was going to be a heavy lift. Even for a person as connected as Nash.

He figured the odds of her going to bat

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