The Orphans (Book 2): Surviving the Turned Read Online Free Page B

on base. Mike and the other men and women in charge issued orders to do a fly-by and see what was happening. When the reports of carnage and death were confirmed, they sent hell from the sky to the base, decimating it and leaving nothing but a hole where it once stood. He regretted having to make that decision that evening but knew there wasn’t a choice; if the outbreak were to spread throughout Iraq and eventually Europe, there would be no stopping it.
    He looked at Naomi, trying to think of how to tell her that he knew exactly what was going on—or at least had one hell of a hunch about it. Instead he stood, leaned down to kiss her forehead, and disappeared into their bedroom. Minutes later, he came out wearing a uniform that fit a bit more snugly than five years ago, when he had retired—the result of a few less jumping jacks, pushups, and sit-ups as part of his daily regimen. His wife didn’t need further explanation and knew she would not get one; it was just part of the job, retired or not. He’d always be there for his country when it needed him. Naomi also knew that if she asked, there would be no answers. He grabbed a thermos of coffee from her, kissed her cheek, and walked out to his truck where he turned the engine and sped like hell to get to Washington, forty miles away… and more importantly, to the war room.
    Naomi went back into the kitchen, holding herself in a hug and feeling alone all of a sudden. It was not the first time she’d been left home while her husband went to war. But in all her years, which were more than she would like to acknowledge, she had never seen anything as horrific as what she witnessed on the television that day. And she had certainly never worried that the enemy might eat her husband.
    She made her way to the living room, where the news was still streaming the gruesome footage. Unable to watch any more of it, she flipped channels, stopping on a camera feed from the Vatican. She sat back on the sofa, watching thousands of devout Catholics standing in the streets outside, holding candles and praying God would stop whatever was happening. That he would put an end to the suffering. It seemed their prayers would go unheard on this day—a day of death. She changed the channel once more then dropped the remote; the sound of it hitting the wood floor made her jump. The headlines scrolled across the screen in large, bold letters. …OUTBREAK IN AMERICA STAY INDOORS… DO NOT COME IN CONTACT WITH THE SICK AND INFECTED…
    Naomi reached for the cordless phone on the side table and dialed the cell phone that the two shared. Mike had cursed her five ways to Sunday the day she came home with it, but she told him firmly, “The day your stubbornness gets the better of you and you fall and get hurt and you’re able to get ahold of me, you’ll be the first to admit how wrong you were.” She punched in the cell phone’s number and waited for it to ring, which it did. From the kitchen, she heard the buzzing of the phone on the countertop, right where he always left it.
     
    *****
     
    Mike sped along the highway. He was one of the only commuters out on that early morning. On any other day, he would be surrounded by traffic from Rockville to Washington, along with all the people who couldn’t afford the luxury of living in the city where they worked. The only cars on the road came from the opposite direction and they appeared to be packed to the brim.
    He was lost in thought, not thinking or caring about the other commuters. He was much more concerned about what would happen should there be an outbreak in the States. He’d been there that night, watching the footage from Iraq. The early morning newsfeeds were no different from the footage he saw from the plane that had dropped the bomb just moments before they had detonated the plane’s reserve bomb, destroying it and its occupants. They left no loose ends and eliminated the possibility that word might get out about destroying an entire