District: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse Read Online Free Page B

mouth, there was a long
uncomfortable silence, during which he heard that awful eighties new-wave synth-heavy A Flock of Seagulls song, I Ran , fire up in his head. Meanwhile,
on the security monitor, whoever was behind the wheel of the semi-truck had
backed it up expertly and left it parked alongside a similar rig containing a
full load of LNG—liquefied natural gas—compliments of Alexander Dregan, who had
undoubtedly sent this rig and the precious fuel contained within the massive
chrome-plated tank.
    After a long five-count Nash responded to the criticism in
an even voice. “I’m with you and the men every time you go down range. In fact,
I lose a chunk of my soul when one of you fall. I’d hoped you knew that by now,
Cade.”
    “I’m sorry. That was a low blow to your upstanding character.”
    “And if you believe the rumors,” Nash quipped, “that was also
a direct hit to my family jewels.”
    If only she knew the true extent of the good-natured ribbing
she suffered from the shooters her satellites watched over. Suppressing a
chuckle, Cade rose from the chair, phone still pressed to his ear.
    Nash went on, “I don’t want to say more than I have to over
this unsecure line, so I’ll have a brief for you when the bird arrives to pick
you up.”
    “And what time will that be?”
    Cade looked at Heidi, who was looking at him while he
concentrated hard on what Nash had to say.
    Seeing Cade glance at his Suunto and his usual stoic expression
morph to one revealing a hint of exasperation, Heidi wisely turned her attention
back to the action topside. On one partition she saw that the mid-point gate on
the feeder road was closed, as it should be. On the two adjacent panels the video
feed picked up nothing moving near the camouflaged main gate nor on the length
of state route in both directions. No zombies . Which was strange,
because something as noisy as a fuel-laden semi barreling down the state route
usually drew in rotting monsters like moths to a flame. As she scrutinized the
video on the middle panes the camera covering the grassy meadow and runway picked
up a new development. One that might put her in the middle of whatever the call
was about. So, hoping to avoid even a hint of confrontation, she tugged on
Cade’s tee shirt and stabbed a finger at the monitor.
    In the center pane Cade saw that the pow-wow had broken up
and people were boarding a trio of pickup trucks—the newly arrived tanker
driver among them. He also saw Brook walking towards the camera, which just so
happened to be positioned outside the compound entrance twenty feet to his
left. Seeing this, he hurriedly finished the call with Nash, thumbed the
sat-phone off and put it back up on the shelf—the entire time shooting Heidi a harried
look that could only be construed as: Let’s keep this between us . He
hustled back to his quarters.
    Heidi began to say something, but was interrupted by a
grating of metal on metal that drew her attention to the inky gloom of the
nearby foyer. There was a clomping of boots on wood and suddenly Brook’s petite
frame was filling up one end of the cramped space.
    Breathing hard from exertion, Brook locked eyes with Heidi
for a half-beat before regarding the trio of sat-phones on the top shelf. She
let her gaze linger there briefly, then regarded Heidi.
    Wearing a startled look, Heidi blurted, “What?”
    “Something you want to tell me?”
    A dead giveaway, Heidi’s gaze inched up to the satellite phones.
    “Who called?” Brook demanded, her hands going to her hips,
the left inadvertently settling on her holstered Glock.
    Busted. Heidi sighed as she scooped up the phone Cade
had just replaced on the shelf. Handing it over her shoulder, she said, “Best
if you go into the call log and see for yourself.”
    “You’re a quick study, Heidi.” Brook took the phone and
thumbed it on. “Plausible deniability. Straight out of Cade’s playbook.”
    Heidi didn’t respond. The hole she’d dug herself was