Ghosts: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse Read Online Free Page A

the cruiser’s window and,
looking in the direction of the black plastic dome housing the security camera,
said matter-of-factly, “The rotters are here to stay, Heidi. And as far as the
cold killing them ... Brook said the scientists at the Air Force base already
tried and failed.”
    Heidi bit her lip, hard. She glanced at the Dollar Store shower
mirror taped to a shelf just above eye level. The nearly bald woman staring back
through eyes shot with tiny blood red capillaries made her shudder. She was
practically bald by choice. She’d cut her hair weeks ago in solidarity with
Daymon. But unlike his coerced trim job, she’d gone overboard and sheared her
once long blonde locks down to stubble. And as she kept her hair short with a
pair of electric clippers, the ensuing weeks spent underground lightened her
already pale skin to the point where she looked like a concentration camp
victim or, from a distance and in the right lighting, one of the living dead.
    Her eyes darted to the trio of satellite phones sitting
silent on the shelf near the mirror. For the third time in an hour a quick once-over
confirmed they were powered on and plugged in, charging. Not wanting to risk
another missed call, she picked up each phone individually and confirmed all of
their ringers were turned on.
    “You still there?” came Charlie’s voice, sounding distant in
the confined space.
    Snapping out of her funk, Heidi keyed to talk and said, “You
be careful out there, Charlie. I guess I just wanted to thank you for saving my
life and reuniting me with Daymon.” Up on the monitor she saw Charlie stick his
hand out the window and wave. Then Phillip stepped back and the Tahoe started a
slow roll east down the state route. As the engine rumble and soft hiss of
tires faded away, Charlie said, “To serve and protect.” That he was chasing
ghosts and had a better chance of being struck by lightning than finding his
daughter alive wasn’t lost on Heidi as she wiped away a stray tear and watched
the Tahoe crest the rise and disappear altogether.

Chapter 3
    Weeks had gone by since Air Force Major Freda Nash had
indulged in a drink. In fact, since the hell of a bender she went on after
learning of the loss of her good friend, Delta Force Commander Mike Desantos,
she’d all but sworn off the stuff. But the satisfied feeling of victory was
diminishing. Softening around the edges. True, the nukes stolen from Minot Air
Force Base were now back in the custody of the United States Air Force. And as a
byproduct of that successful mission, thanks to a tip from Cade “Wyatt”
Grayson—one of her boys —the perpetrators threatening the survival of the
United States had been, to a man, eradicated. But that was then and this was
now. Due to circumstances beyond her control a monumental decision had to be
made. And the monkey wrench thrown into her machine was the temporary stand-down
orders President Valerie Clay had recently dropped onto her and newly promoted
General Cornelius Shrill’s collective laps.
    She kicked off her shoes and pushed her chair away from her
desk. She had purposefully turned off all but the red phone —the direct land
line connecting Schriever with the new White House deep inside Cheyenne Mountain,
the old NORAD facility twenty miles to the southwest. Sequestered in her
cramped little office over the last six hours mulling over the pros and cons of
actually following through with her foolhardy plan had left her hungry, angry,
tired, and lonely. But not necessarily in that order. Mostly she was lonely and
had been since Z-Day plus one. The last three hundred and sixty some odd
minutes, every second of which saw her locked in a battle of self will, had done
nothing to ease the feeling of emptiness. Instead it had brought her to the
doorstep of a conclusion to the detriment of her mind, body, and spirit. She
was fighting a monumental headache that had her neck muscles corded and looking
like twisted cables beneath the