Free The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) by Tripp Ellis

gathered, pawing at the car. Smacking the windows. Their muted snarls filled the cabin.
    After a moment, Delroy hit play on his mobile. In Martin Richey’s voice, the device said: Override active safety features. Full manual.
    The car released control back to Delroy. He punched the gas and did what he loved to do—run lurkers over. Bodies buckled over the hood, denting the sheet metal. 
    BAM.
    PLUNK.
    SMACK.
    It was like a video game to Delroy, and he was having the time of his life. 
    Steele handed the tiger doll to Chloe. “Thank you,” she said.
    “I’m going to give you a top secret, priority one mission. Do you think you can handle it?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. It’s your job to keep track of Mr. Carlisle. Don’t let him leave your sight. We’re not going to be able to go back and get Mr. Carlisle anymore. Is that understood?”
    Chloe nodded. She paused for a moment, deep in thought. “But I thought we never left a man behind?”
    “We don’t. But Mr. Carlisle is a tiger. A stuffed one.”
    “But he’s got feelings, just like you and me.”
    Delroy chuckled. “The major doesn’t have feelings.”
    Steele shot Delroy a look.
    “Everybody’s got feelings,” Chloe said.
    Steele couldn’t believe he was having this discussion. “Yes, I have feelings. And I feel that this discussion is over.”
    Delroy raced through the streets, driving around debris and the occasional stalled car. They were minutes from the landing zone when he caught sight of something in his rearview mirror. A four wheel drive truck had picked up their tail. “Major, we’ve got company. Six o’clock.”
    Steele craned his neck back to see the truck several blocks behind them. It looked like they had a machine gun mounted in the truck bed. An improvised assault vehicle, and a lot faster than the APC. It wasn’t armored. It would be easier to take out. But the Vexpa wasn’t armored either.  
    “Lose them,” Steele said.
    Delroy mashed his foot to the floor. “Looks like we’ve pissed off the locals.”
    “Warning: exceeding maximum safe speed for roadway. Please slow down,” said the automated safety control. 
    “What was that? Go faster?” Delroy said, taunting the automated control.
    “I’m sorry, I think you misunderstood. Please slow down,” the sultry voice said.
    “No can do,” Delroy said. 
    “Chloe, do you have your seatbelt on?” Steele asked.
    “Yes, sir.”
    Steele wanted to radio ahead to Mitchell in the CAV and have him provide close air support. But this was a dark operation. There would be no radio contact. Radio chatter was monitored back at Z-SOC. They were on their own.
    The Vexpa rocketed through the streets. Steele slid open the sunroof and stood up. From his tactical vest he pulled a few proximity mines. He clicked the arming button, and the black orbs came to life. A blue LED light blinked. In five seconds, they would arm.
    Steele tossed them into the street. They bounced like jacks, then settled in the roadway. After five seconds, he could see the LED lights flash red, then go dark. The urchin mines were ready to go. Steele’s eyes clung to them as they sped away. The mines became tiny dots in the road. In a matter of seconds, the truck would trip the sensors.
     Delroy let off the gas a little, watching in the rearview mirror.
    The truck came barreling down the street. Detonation in three… two… one…
    But the truck slammed on its brakes at the last second. Tires squealed wafting plumes of white smoke in the air. It stopped just short enough not to trip up the sensor.
    Steele scowled.
    “Damn it. What gives?” Delroy asked.
    The truck reversed, squealing backwards. Then it spun a 180 and roared in the opposite direction, then turned on a side street. The truck was an older Vantage 250, jacked up with massive tires.  
    “Go,” Steele said, dropping down into the cabin.
    Delroy smoked the tires, and the Vexpa launched forward. “They can’t have a mine sweeper, can