Apocalypse Atlanta (Book 4): Apocalypse Asylum Read Online Free Page A

but Sawyer was right; two months of go-go-go takes a toll on anyone.”
    “Especially aging Master Gunnery Sergeants.”
    “Keep talking, I can put you back down to specialist.”
    “For that?”
    “I’ve busted guys for less.”
    Whitley laughed.  “Somehow I have no trouble believing you.  Here, let me get that for you.”
    Peter shrugged as she quickened her step to beat him to the pair of doors on the back of the building that were the rear access.  “If this is what I’m going to have to put up with on my days off, I’ll have to make sure I come up with some really hellish work details before I take another.  Wear some of you jokers out so I can relax.”
    “Punishment?” she asked as she held one of the doors open for him.
    “Distraction.” he grinned as he went inside.
    The school’s layout was fairly straight forward; a huge central area that served as the lunchroom, with corridors radiating out from it.  The bulk of the school’s rooms — both classrooms as well as the office and administrative areas — were found along the corridors.  Peter went along the hallway to the lunchroom and transferred over to one of the other halls and went halfway down.
    There he found the classroom that had been converted into the communications center was considerably more crowded than it normally was.  The minimum staffing was one person to listen to the radios that had been set up.  During the day there might be a couple of extra bodies there, but nothing more.
    Now though, there were nearly two dozen people present.  Most of them were members of Sawyer’s administrative staff.  Sawyer herself was standing right behind the center most chair at the line of tables where the radios had been lined up, studying something on one of the screens.  She looked up when Peter entered.
    “Gunny.”
    “I’m told something interesting is coming in.” he said, keeping his tone calm and level.
    “Play it from the start.” Sawyer ordered.  “That’s easier than explaining.”
    All three chairs at the tables were occupied, and one of the men manipulated a mouse on one of the computers briefly.  Peter folded his arms as a static laden voice began emanating from the speakers.
    “This is a message to all North American survivors, especially those in the United States.  The American Government has not fallen.  We’ve just been forced to relocate and reconstitute in the midst of this extraordinary crisis.  Resources and personnel are being marshaled on a daily basis, as we organize a comprehensive response.
    “Our top priority is the elimination of the zombie threat.  To anyone hearing this message, we are operating out of Ellsworth Air Force Base, South Dakota.  We need personnel and supplies; the more the better.  Without you, our ability to respond will take longer.
    “There is no current estimate for how long until we get control of the situation.  But we are working on it.  All citizens are urged to defend themselves and join us if you are able.  Again, Ellsworth Air Force Base in South Dakota; just go west on I-90 and you’ll be found.  All possible aid is needed.
    “This channel is one of several we broadcast and monitor on.  The other frequencies follow; monitoring is twenty four/seven, for the duration.”
    Peter listened as the male voice started reading off a series of numbers.  One of the operators spoke up as the playback’s volume was lowered.  “That’s basically it.  After the frequencies, it says they’ll transmit every six hours, then nothing for thirty seconds, when it repeats in full.”
    “We got a full recording off the repeat.” another operator mentioned.
    “You woke up by then, you mean.” Peter thought, though he kept it to himself.  He knew it was tougher than it seemed to stay alert on something as dull as radio watch; especially when nothing ever seemed to happen.  Well, something had happened now.  “Have you tried to contact them?”
    “Yes.”
    Peter