Decay (Book 1): Civilization by Linus Locke Page B

building, so he left his in the center console. This time he called the number for the local police department which was saved in his contacts.
    “Clay Hills police department,” the man said in a half statement half question as he answered the phone.
    “Hello my name is Brian Sawyer. I work for the BCRC laboratory about eight miles outside of town. I would like to report an emergency.”
    “Sure, what is your badge number, sir?”
    “I do not have one. I am not a security officer. I am a researcher. There has been a major catastrophe. We were—”
    “I’m sorry but I need a security officer to contact us for emergencies, sir,” the man interrupted him, yet he maintained a polite demeanor.
    “The security officers are dead!” Brian exclaimed in frustration. “Most of, if not all of the other employees here are dead as well.”
    “Can you hold for just a moment, sir?” The man didn’t wait for an answer to that question. The tone of his voice was that of urgency. He returned to the line a moment later. “Sir, we are unable to get a response from the security personnel there.”
    “No shit you did not get a response. What did I just tell you?”
    “Sir, I understand your frustration, and because we didn’t receive an answer we are sending a squad car to that location.”
    “You are going to need more than one. Can you send more?” Brian asked. The frustration was still evident in his voice.
    “I’m sorry, we will send a car out and wait for the report. If other units are needed they will be immediately dispatched to the location.”
    “The location is going to be much bigger than that building. A contamination leak has infected numerous researchers. Now these researchers are killing each other. The area needs to be contained immediately.”
    “Again I’m sorry, but this is the best I can do until I hear from a badge. If there is a contamination problem than a HAZMAT team will be dispatched.”
    “Just make it fast, or this problem will be far too large to contain,” Brian said as he hung up the phone and threw it down on the passenger seat.
    The containment took too long, and the contamination spread exponentially in every direction. Early reports were dismissed as a hoax. Over the next few weeks prophecies were uncovered that showed Nostradamus predicted this event in the mid fifteen-hundreds. Churches responded by saying it was God’s doing, and He was purging the world of sin. Plans, purging, and prophecies held nothing to the arrogance of man.

 
    Chapter 4
    Rays of sunlight shined through the cracks in between the two-by-fours used to board up the windows of the Channel Thirteen News building. The stairwell leading down was blocked off using filing cabinets, desks, couches, and chairs. Floors two, three, and four have all been cleared by the small group of survivors. The waves of undead came through the windows and doors like hungry wolves on the scent of an injured deer, pushing the lucky ones up the stairs while the rest were torn apart.
    Reports had flooded in from all over town, but none of the news team knew what to think. It seemed to be some sort of hoax at first. People killing each other only to have their dead victims rise up and kill seemed a bit farfetched. By the time trusted sources confirmed these events, it was too late.
    Bradley Andrews was one of the lucky ones, or at the very least, he was a survivor. Six people survived the attack on the news building that day. The small group managed to hold the attackers at the stairs while they built a blockade with whatever furniture could be found. Many of the people that lost their lives that day were good friends, and Bradley made it a goal to remember each and every one of them. They would never receive a proper burial. Remembering them was the best he had to give.
    Frank and his wife Lisa survived the initial attack as well. Because of their actions, the barricade was completed. They were a middle aged couple who were run out of