Ebola K: A Terrorism Thriller: Book 3 Read Online Free

Internment Camp until such time as I release you.  If you wish to state your case in writing, do so.  Write it out.  Give it to your commanding officer or sergeant.”
    “Where do we get the pen and paper?” asked Salazar.
    “Walmart.”
    “There’s a Walmart in the camp?” Salazar asked.
    “No.”
    McCardle passed a folder to Holloway.  The Colonel gave it a glance.  “Each of you will be assigned jobs.  You will do your job to the best of your abilities.  This camp will be self-sufficient.  Or you can sit this out in one of the cages.” He looked back down at the folder.  “Mr. Salazar, step forward.”
    Salazar took two steps. 
    Holloway looked at the other table.  “What is Mr. Salazar’s type?”
    One of the enlisted men sat up straight.  “Mr. Salazar recovered from Ebola strain N and has blood type B.”
    “Type N,” Holloway confirmed.  He looked at Salazar, then rifled through pages on a clipboard as if searching for something.  “What type of work did you do before?”
    “Director of Marketing,” answered Salazar, “at Mitchell Electronics.”
    Holloway didn’t hesitate.  “You’re assigned to Sanitation Crew Eleven.  You’ll report to Sergeant Ohr.”
    “Just like that?” Salazar asked.
    “Understand this, Mr. Salazar, the camp is segregated by strain.  Everyone on your work crew has recovered from strain N.  Don’t fraternize or physically contact anyone who contracted a different strain.”
    “I have to pick up garbage?” Salazar was getting his anger running again.
    “No,” answered Holloway.  “Sanitation Crew Eleven hauls the dead to the fires.  You might not believe it but I’ve got worse jobs that need to be filled.  Would you like to complain some more?” Holloway stared at Salazar, daring him to say more.
    Salazar clenched his teeth and didn’t respond.
    When it was clear Salazar wasn’t going to take the dare, Holloway pointed at an empty tattoo chair.  “Get marked.  When you’re finished,” Holloway pointed at the doorway, “go out, follow the signs to Compound Eleven.  Ask for Sergeant Ohr.  You’ll see the perimeter fence on your way.  Feel free to test it.” He looked at a folder on the table.  “Paul Cooper.”
    Paul took two steps.
    “You’re Paul Cooper?”
    Paul nodded.
    McCardle said, “You’ll need to respond verbally.”
    “Yes, I am Paul Cooper.”
    McCardle reached over and tapped a finger on the file in front of Holloway.
    Holloway looked to the officer at one of the other tables.  “Doctor Fisher, do you have the folder on Paul Cooper?”
    “Yes, sir.” The doctor lifted a folder off the table and showed it to Holloway. 
    “Is Paul Cooper fit for physical labor?” Holloway looked at Paul as he spoke.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Type?” Holloway asked.
    “K,” answered Dr. Fisher.
    McCardle leaned close to Holloway and said, “We’re having a hard time coming up with Ks.”
    Holloway nodded.
    McCardle said, “We need somebody in the K3 clinic.”
    Holloway looked at Paul.  “Any medical experience?”
    “I…” Paul wasn’t sure how to answer.  “I was pre-med for a couple years in college.  I volunteered at the hospital.”
    McCardle gave Holloway a certain nod.  He opened a folder and pointed at something.
    Paul decided to assert himself with a request.  “I’d like to use a telephone.”
    “We don’t have any phones here.” Holloway didn’t bother to look up from the file while he spoke.
    “Do you have a cellphone?” Paul pushed.
    Holloway nodded, again without looking up.
    “May I use it to call my daughter?”
    Holloway looked up at Paul and stared for a moment, blank-faced.  “The time when lending someone a phone has passed.  It’s no longer a risk of minutes, it’s a risk of life.” Holloway’s eyes narrowed.  “You wouldn’t want to risk my life to provide you the convenience of a luxury, would you?” Holloway’s voice notched toward anger.  “Are your wants more