Free Zombie Fallout 8: An Old Beginning by Mark Tufo

open.
    “Sergeant Merts, we have an emergency in the holding cells.”
    The sergeant took note that Mr. Hawes was not sitting at his desk. Dixon had told the sergeant to treat Mrs. Deneaux with all the courtesies afforded to her station, but if he noticed any suspicious activity, he was to contact him immediately. As far as Sergeant Merts thought, this would constitute suspicious.
    “Stop looking at me like I stole a baby’s rattle. Your boss is being held hostage. Come here if you don’t believe me.” She had replayed the dvr and was pointing to the monitors that were playing back the footage.
    The sergeant came around, his eyes growing big, barely believing what he was watching. “This is Sergeant Merts, get a detail down to Cellblock B now!” he spoke into a small radio attached to his shoulder. “Are you alright, ma’am?” the sergeant asked.
    “I could use an ashtray, but other than that I’m fine, thank you.”
    Sergeant Merts paused to look at her.
    “I’m fine, I’m fine. Go save the day, Sergeant.”
    “Ma’am.” The sergeant was out the door so fast that he created a breeze.
    She would have a small window in which to consolidate her power. Best case scenario, Michael and Dixon would both be pushing up daisies soon. She couldn’t count on that, though. Michael could not afford to kill the man, and Dixon’s men obviously would not shoot him. She needed to force one of their hands. She smiled as she thought about it. Michael’s family—that was the key. If they were dead, Michael would wish he was as well, and he would attempt to tear down the walls of this facility around them all.
    “Will an RPG kill him? I do hope he’s in a section with video surveillance when it happens. I would really like to see it.”
    She pressed the alarm again. This time a corporal came in—Dowery she thought his name was.
    “Corporal Dowery, how good it is to see you.”
    “Is there another emergency?” he asked, looking around.
    “Well, there is, not necessarily here, though. Do you like being a corporal?”
    “Excuse me? There’s really a lot going on right now, and I need to be doing other things.”
    “Relax, my boy, we’ll get to that. I asked you a question.”
    The corporal debated answering the question and, realizing that this mysterious woman had Dixon’s ear, thought better of it.
    “It’s better than being out there, I suppose.”
    “Oh, it is. You can trust me on that. Now I don’t know much about the military rank structure, but corporal…that’s pretty low down there, isn’t it? Excuse my ignorance.”
    The corporal looked at Deneaux, realizing she was playing for something. He could tell by the way she’d said it that she was full of shit. “Umm…yeah, pretty low down there.” He agreed with her, as it seemed the safest route.
    “How would you like to be a captain? No…let’s say major?”
    “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
    “Oh, I’m not really asking. I’m about to give you a task that, if you complete it successfully, I will promote you to the rank of major.”
    “ Who would I have to kill?” he laughed.
    “Now you get it.” Her eyes narrowed, her face becoming severe.
    “I can’t kill Dixon Hawes if that’s what you’re saying.”
    “Don’t you worry about that, it’s already being taken care of. There are about to be some sweeping changes here, and you can either remain on the bottom where you currently feed, or you can rise to the top and be the officer I know you can be.”
    “I’m a soldier, Mrs. Deneaux, not a mercenary. I don’t kill for personal gain.”
    “Oh how quaint, an assassin with morals. Have you been to war, Corporal?”
    “Every man in this facility has been. Mr. Hawes only wanted seasoned personnel. Soldiers that wouldn’t run at the first sign of trouble.”
    “Don’t you realize that every war is predicated on gain? Perhaps not personal gain, but most definitely gain. Sometimes it is for money, gold or other valuable