The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) (2 page)

Liam cringed.
 

“But at what cost? Unofficial reports put the number of civilian survivors trapped within the quarantine zone at 1000, possibly more. Yet there are no evacuations planned, and the pentagon stands firm on its containment policy.”

Liam stopped recording and shook his head. “That’s never going to make it to air.”

Cassy’s eyes widened as she saw Major Steele march toward tent city. Her eyes flicked back to Liam. “Follow me, and don’t stop recording,” she demanded.

Steele caught a glimpse of her jogging toward him out of the corner of his eye. He pretended not to notice. Though, an almost imperceptible scowl curled down on his lips. He was all too familiar with what a pain in the ass Cassy could be. A good-looking pain in the ass, but still, not someone he wanted to deal with right now.
 

“Major?” she called.

Steele kept plodding forward.

“Major. Cassy Williams, KXNAC News. I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

“Sorry, Ms. Williams. I’m on official business right now.”

“Are you aware of the civilian population still remaining within the quarantine zone? Can you address the allegations of human rights violations and war crimes?”

“Ms. Williams, those kind of questions are above my pay grade. I’m just a dumb grunt. You should direct your questions to the Media Relations Office.”

“You and I both know that’s a dead end.”

“And so am I.”

Steele picked up his pace. Cassy shuffled in front of him, trying to slow him down. Steele’s eyes dipped down to her bouncing neckline for an instant. Cassy knew what she was doing. She knew how to utilize her assets. And she was very skilled at making them jiggle in subtle, but irresistible ways.

“My eyes are up here, Major.”

Steele grimaced.
 

Liam jogged alongside, struggling to keep the two in frame.

“Get that camera off me,” Steele growled.

“So, you condone murder?” Cassy said.

Steele stopped in his tracks, and his eyes narrowed at her. He gritted his teeth and scowled at the accusation. “Ms. Williams, are you infected?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t attack the very people that allow you to remain that way.”

“The same people who've slaughtered millions of innocent people?”

“Innocent people?”

“Has anyone ever stopped to think about the rights of the infected? Was there ever any consideration given to help them? Or was it just shoot first, ask questions later?”

I can’t stand this woman, he thought. Steele sighed and tried to maintain his composure. He leaned into her, staring her down, almost nose to nose. So close, he caught a whiff of her strawberry shampoo. It wasn’t often he smelled something so sweet. Their eyes locked into one another. “How about I drop you on the other side of the wall, see how long it takes before you start shooting?”

Cassy’s eyes broke from his gaze for an instant. Game, set, match. She knew she wouldn’t last two seconds on the inside. And if it came down to life-and-death, she would choose life.

Steele continued his march to tent city. Cassy pursed her lips and watched him storm away. She called out to Steele, “What about the families left behind? There are women and children in there.”

THE SENSATION BURNED like fire, as though his flesh had been dipped in hot grease. The pain was constant, day in and day out. A scorching, searing torment, present in every titanium composite body part. But the pain wasn’t real. It was phantom pain from a faulty nerve interface.
 

Real or not, it was unbearable. Live long enough with that kind of pain and dying doesn’t sound that bad. All because some politician got bought, a contract was awarded, and cost saving measures were implemented. As a result, the Army got stuck with hundreds of thousands of parts that weren’t exactly state-of-the-art. But somebody got rich. It sure as hell wasn’t Steele.

Back in his tent, Major Steele poured a shot of whiskey and gulped it down. Then he poured another, and washed down a handful of pills. The combination seemed to take the edge off. At least, enough for him to get a few hours sleep a night. Most mornings, he woke feeling like someone had poured a scalding pot of boiling water on him. And if he went too long without the meds, something worse than pain would take over. Withdrawals would kick in, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.
 

The constant pain made him disagreeable and mean, but gave him an edge in battle. It kept him sharp, aggressive, and fearless. At least, that’s what he told himself. Steele was a no excuses kind of guy. He believed in turning negatives into positives. When your life is nothing but negatives, you learn to adjust your perspective. Still, he’d give anything to live one day pain-free.
 

“You gonna pour me one of those?” Cassy’s velvety voice slipped through the air.

And I was just starting to feel better, Steele thought. He looked over his shoulder at her slinking in the doorway. His eyes lingered on her luscious curves a moment. Why not?

Steele grabbed another glass from his bureau and poured her a drink. Cassy sauntered into the tent, taking it as an invitation. Steele handed her the drink and looked over her shoulder to the doorway. He didn’t see any sign of the cameraman.
 

“I got rid of him. It’s just me and you.” Her eyes sparkled with a deliciously devious glint as she clinked glasses. “Cheers.”

Cassy slugged the aged whiskey down without flinching. She held out her glass for another pour. Steele obliged. As he reached for the bottle of whiskey, Cassy eyed the prescription pills. “Neuromodix. Pretty heavy duty stuff.”

“Not heavy-duty enough.”

“You guys risk your lives. The least they could do is patch you up a little better.”

“I thought we were all murderous war criminals?”

“We all know the real criminals wear suits and ties.” Cassy lifted an eyebrow. Steele gave a small nod. It seemed they had something they could agree on after all.
 

He filled their glasses again.
 

“60,000 soldiers have defective bio-mechanic implants. Yet there is no funding for replacements. Genomedyne makes a great new composite and interface. Truly state of the art.” Cassy traced her finger down his titanium forearm.
 

“Like you said, there’s no funding.”
 

“Can you feel that?” She looked up at him with smoldering eyes.
 

“What do you want?” he asked, seeing right through her.

“What, can’t a single woman have a drink with an attractive man?”

“Whatever you’re after, you’re not going to get it.”

“But I always get what I want.” The words slipped off her tongue like satin. Silky, warm, and whet with desire. Cassy thrust her body closer.

Steele’s pulse quickened. This was a woman that was hard to ignore.

Cassy put her hand on his muscular chest and stroked her way down his torso. She could feel his rippled abs under his shirt. She teased her way down, plunging below his waistline. “Is this titanium too, or are you just happy to see me.”

“I can assure you, that’s all natural.”

Cassy lifted up on her tip toes. Her full lips moved towards his. Inches apart now. He could smell that damned strawberry shampoo again.

“I’ll ask again. What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” she whispered.
 

He could feel her steamy breath on his neck. She was driving him insane. Steele had survived a lot of things during his time in the Army—POW camps, torture, proximity mines. But he knew blonds could be deadly.
 

He took her by the arms and pushed her back. “Cut the shit.”

“Don’t tell me there is a Mrs. Steele out there?”

“She left a long time ago.”

“Let me guess, your charming and warm personality was just too much for her?”

“When our daughter died, she couldn’t be around me anymore. Said she thought of Madison every time she looked into my eyes.”

Cassy stepped back, stunned. “I’m sorry.”

Steele’s eyes drilled into her. “What do you really want?”

Cassy dropped the seductress act. “I want you to get me into the containment zone.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. I can’t authorize that.”

“I’m not talking about an authorized visit. You and I both know that’s never going to happen.”

“You want me to help you make the Army look bad?”

“No, I want you to help me expose the truth. An objective look at what is really going on. The American people have a right to know.”

“That virus gets out, and there will be no more American people.”
 

“What if it was you stuck in there?” Cassy asked. “Or someone you loved? Would you just leave them in there to rot?”
 

Major Steele sighed and pursed his lips. “Six weeks. Six weeks, and I retire. Then I won’t have to listen to anybody’s bullshit. I won’t have much, but it will be something. And I ain’t doing a damn thing to screw that up.”

“Well, I guess in all your years of service, you’ve forgotten what’s worth fighting for.”

Steele clenched his teeth, seething with anger. Cassy’s tongue could be as sharp as it was smooth. The air was thick between them.

A private poked his head into the tent, breaking the tension. “Major. The colonel wants to see you. ASAP.”
 

Cassy reached into her purse and pulled out her business card. But this was no ordinary card. It was a translucent piece of smart glass. The size of a credit card, but a little bit thicker. It displayed her picture, name, and the KXNAC logo.
 

The card activated when you touched it. The screen went from dim to fully illuminated. It functioned like any other touchscreen communication device. Except this card only dialed one number. Cassy’s. All you had to do was swipe it, and press the button. It would connect to the network and you could videoconference.

Cassy left the card on the bureau, by Steele’s medications. “Call me anytime. Day or night. That’s an encrypted com-link. Not even Z-SOC can crack the encryption.” She brushed past Steele and sauntered toward the exit. He watched her go. She had a nice saunter.

“Z-SOC can crack any code,” Steele protested.

“Can they?” she said, confidently. She looked back over her shoulder at him. She knew he was checking out her backside. “Thanks for the drinks,” she said, then slipped out of the tent.
 

“I’M SORRY, MR. Ferris, but that’s absolutely out of the question,” Colonel Carl Briggs said. His gruff voice was textured from years of single malt scotch. He was sitting at his desk, chewing on the end of a cigar as he spoke.

Todd Ferris sat across from the colonel in the forward command tent. The two men couldn’t be more different. The colonel was rough, weathered, and carved of stone. His eyes had seen just about everything a man could see. Ferris was delicate and groomed to perfection. They had both been around the world, but Ferris did it on a yacht. The only beaches Ferris stormed were Cannes and St. Tropez.

Ferris wore a pin-striped Italian designer suit, white shirt, silk tie, and a matching pocket square. The suit was handmade from some of the rarest fibers in the world. Less than 100 were made in a year, and a suit like this would set you back close to $100,000. His calfskin leather shoes cost more than a nice used car. He was the kind of guy that people didn’t say no to. 

Money buys a lot of things, but it wasn’t going to buy the colonel. He despised men like Ferris. And he certainly wasn’t going to give into his request—no matter what Ferris had to offer.

“Surely there is some mutually beneficial arrangement that we can make?” Ferris said.

“Mr. Ferris, while I can appreciate your situation, there’s nothing I can do. My hands are tied.”

“Colonel, I don’t know if I’ve effectively conveyed the importance of my request.”

“A lot of people had to leave a lot of things behind. You’re no different than anybody else.” The colonel enjoyed saying that.

 Ferris didn’t like hearing it, but he forced a smile. “Yes, it’s tragic that so many lost so much.” His voice was insincere. Then he leaned in. “Perhaps I should make myself more clear. I am willing to handsomely compensate those who would aid in my cause.” Ferris glanced around, slyly. There was no one else in the command tent. There were a few soldiers standing outside.

The colonel’s eyes narrowed. “Let me get this straight… You want me to provide you with a combat aerial vehicle, a flight crew, and a team of men to enter the quarantine zone? So you can retrieve an undisclosed item?”

“Yes, and I’m willing to pay a million dollars a person. Plus a gracious fee of $2 million to you for brokering the deal.” Ferris leaned back, almost gloating. He was sure Briggs couldn’t resist that offer. 

Briggs was silent for a long moment. “What you’re asking me to do is not only a violation of article 134, but a blatant disregard of my sworn duties. I could face a court-martial and spend the rest of my days in prison. I'd be compromising national security.” Briggs was seething.