number of the creatures making their way towards the noise of the machine. The security team kept shooting, their accurate fire clearing a path for the Hans and Dr Garcia. In just a few more seconds they were at the door and Hans helped her into the aircraft. He turned back, adding fire to that of his men. He gave the signal and they began to fall back. A gunner on the helicopter swung his M249 light machine gun towards the building and fired long bursts at the creatures. The rest of the tactical unit retreated, the creatures hot on their heels. With just a few more shots the rest of the men were at the helicopter and jumped in, thankfully with no casualties. With a simple hand signal Hans let the pilot know they were clear and the Black Hawk lifted up into the dark sky.
Dr Garcia slumped back, still unable to believe what she had just gone through. Hans leaned forwards, putting a headset unit on her head. His voice came through clearly.
“Are you ok, Doctor, are you uninjured?” he asked.
Dr Garcia nodded.
Hans turned and pulled out what looked like a tablet computer. He pressed a few keys and handed it over to her. She looked at it intently. It was a summary of all the current news reports and feeds. The first words to catch her attention were those about London. It read that the Prime Minister was injured and that it was being blamed on terrorist action. Sliding the story to one side she checked the next one, it described an attack by a group of rabid men in a large train station in France. It said dozens were hurt and several killed. Each article seemed to be saying the same thing, there were crazed people attacking their neighbours for no apparent reason. As she read further, more stories popped up. It was spreading and spreading fast.
She looked out through the small windows of the helicopter, the landscape was featureless, and this was hardly a state full of monstrous cities. There was just one question on her mind.
“Hans. How did this spread so fast?” she asked.
“No idea, Doctor. From the reports I’ve seen, it seems that the common link is the airport here in Barrow. The people with the infection can apparently carry the condition for two days before you can see any difference,” he said.
The helicopter climbed up higher until above the clouds and continued its progress towards the ship. Dr Garcia turned back to the tablet, reading the most recent story.
It simply read, ‘Zombie Apocalypse hits Manhattan’. Along the scrolling ticker at the bottom of the page was the message that the governor had declared a state of emergency.
“Zombies?” cried Dr Garcia as she almost choked on her own words.
CHAPTER FOUR
Berkshire, England
The sun beat down upon the large glass windows and flies buzzed around in the annoying manner that they always do. It was another depressing Monday. Dave lay back in his leather chair which was frayed at the edges and the cushion flattened from years of use. He’d worked in this concrete tower for six years, bored to death. The sound of colleagues toiling away on utterly pointless, brain numbing work. For just a few moments his mind wandered from the office hell to a better place, just dreaming of the cool beer he lusted after.
“Dave!” shouted Jones.
The boss’s voice rang out from across the room. The cheap suit buying, BMW driving, golf loving, pink shirt wearing, lower management asshole was stood at the water cooler. He’d spotted Dave’s slackened posture and been all too fond to call him up on the fact.
“Isn’t it about time you got some work done?” said Jones.
The idiot had deliberately said it from across the room, loud enough for everyone to witness, they all hated him as much as Dave did, but that didn’t stop him making examples of colleagues on a regular basis, and getting a kick out of it. Dave said nothing, but simply sat more upright at his desk and pretended to give a damn. His workstation really was rubbish, an old grey dreary desk with
Dr Garcia slumped back, still unable to believe what she had just gone through. Hans leaned forwards, putting a headset unit on her head. His voice came through clearly.
“Are you ok, Doctor, are you uninjured?” he asked.
Dr Garcia nodded.
Hans turned and pulled out what looked like a tablet computer. He pressed a few keys and handed it over to her. She looked at it intently. It was a summary of all the current news reports and feeds. The first words to catch her attention were those about London. It read that the Prime Minister was injured and that it was being blamed on terrorist action. Sliding the story to one side she checked the next one, it described an attack by a group of rabid men in a large train station in France. It said dozens were hurt and several killed. Each article seemed to be saying the same thing, there were crazed people attacking their neighbours for no apparent reason. As she read further, more stories popped up. It was spreading and spreading fast.
She looked out through the small windows of the helicopter, the landscape was featureless, and this was hardly a state full of monstrous cities. There was just one question on her mind.
“Hans. How did this spread so fast?” she asked.
“No idea, Doctor. From the reports I’ve seen, it seems that the common link is the airport here in Barrow. The people with the infection can apparently carry the condition for two days before you can see any difference,” he said.
The helicopter climbed up higher until above the clouds and continued its progress towards the ship. Dr Garcia turned back to the tablet, reading the most recent story.
It simply read, ‘Zombie Apocalypse hits Manhattan’. Along the scrolling ticker at the bottom of the page was the message that the governor had declared a state of emergency.
“Zombies?” cried Dr Garcia as she almost choked on her own words.
CHAPTER FOUR
Berkshire, England
The sun beat down upon the large glass windows and flies buzzed around in the annoying manner that they always do. It was another depressing Monday. Dave lay back in his leather chair which was frayed at the edges and the cushion flattened from years of use. He’d worked in this concrete tower for six years, bored to death. The sound of colleagues toiling away on utterly pointless, brain numbing work. For just a few moments his mind wandered from the office hell to a better place, just dreaming of the cool beer he lusted after.
“Dave!” shouted Jones.
The boss’s voice rang out from across the room. The cheap suit buying, BMW driving, golf loving, pink shirt wearing, lower management asshole was stood at the water cooler. He’d spotted Dave’s slackened posture and been all too fond to call him up on the fact.
“Isn’t it about time you got some work done?” said Jones.
The idiot had deliberately said it from across the room, loud enough for everyone to witness, they all hated him as much as Dave did, but that didn’t stop him making examples of colleagues on a regular basis, and getting a kick out of it. Dave said nothing, but simply sat more upright at his desk and pretended to give a damn. His workstation really was rubbish, an old grey dreary desk with
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