Outbreak (Book 1): Emerald City by Jay K. Anthony Page B

stupid to put themselves in harm’s way for some people that they didn’t know. In this world, no one did anyone favors. But still …
    “Let’s move,” Matt said.
    Luke sighed and lit a fresh cigarette. “Which way?” he asked.
    Matt looked around. “I don’t know,” he said and pointed down a side street. “Take a right.”
    Luke hit the gas and followed Matt’s direction. The side road was cluttered, but Luke was able to pass through. He took the next left, drove a city block, and took another left. At the next intersection he could see the car again, this time from the other side. The driver’s side door was open and the zombies were climbing over each other to get inside. Holy Mother, Luke thought and closed his eyes. That could so easily be us.
    “Hey!” Matt snapped. “Pay attention.”
    Luke popped open his eyes and saw two zombies sprinting straight at them from the right. Frustrated and pissed off, Luke floored the accelerator and turned toward the oncoming zombies. I should have tried to do something to save those people. “Watch this, Pete!” he yelled. Pete stuck his head between the two front seats just as Luke plowed into the two zombies. One of the heads ripped off and smashed against the windshield, splintering the glass.
    “Awesome!” Pete said and started giggling.
    “Yeah, awesome,” Luke muttered. Suddenly sick and tired of the life he was trapped in, Luke kept on the gas and drove hard down the narrow street with his cigarette clamped between his teeth. He pushed the van as fast as he could make it go, yanking the steering wheel left and right to get around trash and cars in the road. Matt still just looked bored.
    “Take it easy, Earnhardt,” he said. “You want the next left.”
    Screw you, Luke thought and accelerated through the turn, squealing the wheels, and knocking Pete laughing into Ted in the back of the van. With the pedal to the floor, Luke drove as fast as he could past an old weathered sign that read Bowman Shipyard and knew they were there just in time as steam began to pour up from under the hood. Luke hit the brakes, bringing the van to a screeching halt. Before the engine had even died, he jumped out of the cab to suck the last puff off of his cigarette and light another. He heard Matt get out of the passenger’s side and walk around to him.
    “We feeling better now?” Matt asked. Luke nodded. He did feel better actually. Nothing like a little road rage, he thought while taking a look around. He looked down the Westside Freeway and noticed for the first time that the bridge was out. It looked like someone had run a container ship into it when the bridge was down, probably in a panic to escape the apocalypse. Luke hadn't noticed the damage when they were driving in the van and he imagined how many people had driven up that bridge in the dark and drove right out into nowhere. That would be one hell of a wakeup call , he thought and wondered how long it would take to hit the water. Shaking his head at the image, he focused on the boatyard.
    From what he could see, it was everything Matt had promised. The fence line was state of the art prison grade and completely secure. Cement blocks at each of the posts and triple coils of barbed wire ran along the top. The fence itself ran deep into the concrete so there was no gap below. Working here must have felt like you were working in prison , he thought. Walking the fence line, he was definitely impressed but immediately wondered how in the hell they were going to get inside. The fence was designed to keep people out. People just like him. He stuck his finger through one of the chain links. It was not even raw metal. It had been coated with something to make it harder to cut through. Maybe if I got on top of the van I could climb over, but it has to be fifteen feet to the top and even if I could get through the razor wire, I don’t like the idea of jumping down to the concrete on the other side. He walked over to the