Zombie Fever: Outbreak by B.M. Hodges

Author:B.M. Hodges
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Speculative Fiction, Zombies
Published: 2012-02-24T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

IT wasn’t long before we were chugging up an on-ramp towards a squad of WHO paratroopers standing behind a make-shift barrier of overturned cars and barbed wire. One of the paratroopers who was marching atop a lorry in militant fashion motioned us forward towards a gap in their barrier and then jumped down in front of our bus before we could pass through, causing Zahrin to hit the brakes hard, everyone sliding in our seats, smacking against the backs of the bench seats in front of us.

They were clearly WHO paratroopers with their insignias and metals hanging from the same type of enviro-suits we were sporting. The only difference was they had full on helmets and oxygen tanks slung on their backs, whereas we just had plastic eye shields and flimsy filter masks hanging from rubber bands around our necks.

This particular soldier had gold bars on his lapel and the attitude of authority. He walked up to Zahrin’s window and pressed an SAR-21 assault rifle against his temple, “This is a restricted thoroughfare for military personnel only. All civilians are to take surface streets south for evac. Turn your vehicle around and head south now or you’ll be deemed a threat and barbequed zombie style.” He motioned towards two of his men standing a short distance away. They were carrying flamethrowers and they flicked a switch on their electrical ignition systems, igniting the tips of the barrels of their weapons, little flecks of fire dancing in the night like malevolent eyes.

Zahrin leaned away from the gun at his head and slowly pulled a card out from an envelope from inside his suit, he handed it over to the soldier and seconds later handed him another envelope that, I guessed, was stuffed with cash. The soldier took the envelopes and disappeared into a tent on the other side of the barrier, presumably to scan the card for clearance details. He came back with just the card, the envelopes notably absent, handed it back to Zahrin and, without another word, waved them forward towards the gap between the cars and barbed wire. Zahrin slowly drove the bus through the barrier and up onto the expressway, the soldiers staring at us through their helmets expressionlessly as we proceeded north into the hot zone.

It was nice to be on the flat surface of asphalt again, with the shuttle bus humming along at thirty or so kilometers an hour. Zahrin kept the headlamps switched off as it was easy to see the road from the halogen lamps overhead. We were back on the E2 on the one empty lane cleared of cars and surrounded by a safe and reassuring web of razor wire.

It was a different scene from when we were on the expressway the day before. Just yesterday, there were masses of people making the exodus south, cars and lorries used as temporary shelters and groups of families and strangers trekking along, winding their way through the maze of abandoned vehicles. This time there were no people walking south or camping out.

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