Free Plagued: The Rock Island Zombie Counteractant Experiment (Plagued States of America) by Better Hero Army Page A

bullets whip by his head. Buzz, buzz, buzz .
    “Wake up, asshole!” Lieutenant Thompson groaned.
    Mason jerked, suddenly wide awake. He slapped the alarm clock. He could hear himself breathing hard even though he knew his heart hardly took a beat.
    “Sorry,” Mason said, rubbing his eyes.
    “Why’d I get stuck with someone on graves?” his roommate moaned and covered his head with his pillow.
    Mason stared at the dark floor beneath his feet and tried to wren ch the memory from his thoughts, but it was like cement. He could still see the accident report clearly.
    Smith, William A., Corporal , 2 nd Ranger Battalion, 75 th Regiment, assigned to U.S. Embassy Defensive Controls duty after completion of Ranger training. Became a father two months after deployment. Killed three and wounded sixteen Egyptian civilians during a protest march on the U.S. Embassy after a rocket propelled grenade was fired from the crowd that wounded two soldiers. When ordered to cease fire, he refused, and eventually turned his weapon on himself.
    That was the official report , the one he had signed. Sometimes he regretted that as much as killing the poor kid.
    Mason used the hall phone to punch in the extension of the duty officer and waited for an answer. He stood in the darkness of the bay of rooms, alone under the dim light of the exit sign posted above the door.
    “What do you need me to do?” he had asked Kennedy. She hadn’t given him an answer, at least not a good one. She smiled and finished her drink before telling him she would be in touch, that she had to talk it over with the Senator, and that he should just keep doing what he was doing.
    “What am I doing?” Mason asked.
    “Blending in ,” she had told him.
    “Phillips,” the night duty officer said as he picked up the other line.
    “Sir, this is Lieutenant Jones. The warden—”
    “Oh, yeah, he called me a few hours ago,” Sergeant Phillips interrupted. He sounded agitated, like he had been dreading this phone call since he heard the news. “Look, we still need you to come in, if you’re feeling up to it.”
    “ That’s fine,” Mason replied. “I’m not tired anyway. I’ll put in my shift.”
    “Oh, good. Good. That’s the Ranger spirit. I’ll see you as soon as you get here.”
    Mason dressed and went to the prison complex in a fog of thought. He hardly noticed the blacklight glow to the cement walls of the man-trap gate. Mason waved at the soldier peering down at him from atop the gate tower as he made his way to the side door of the complex. Unlike during the day shift, it was so quiet at night it felt like death hovered over the island.
    There was no one in the munitions room when Mason arrived. He swiped his card and punched a code to open one of the inventory control doors that showed a pistol and belt holster through the glass. The door unlocked and Mason withdrew the weapon, checked it for rounds in the chamber, and then tested the trigger. It was in working order. Ammunition and clips were openly available. Mason took a loaded clip and slid it into the butt of the gun. Fifteen rounds should be enough for any contingency, but after his first night, he wished they issued high-capacity magazines.
    “Ah, Jones,” Sergeant Phillips said when Mason knocked on his open door. Phillips sat rubbing his temples when Mason first saw him, staring at his computer screen. He stood and saluted as Mason entered the room.
    Mason returned the salute.
    “Have a seat,” he offered. “How are you getting along?”
    “Fine, sir,” Mason said as he settled into the square, wooden framed chair.
    “I’m sorry to have to call you in like this, but we’re running below MPO tonight without you and Matty.”
    Minimal Personnel Occupancy, or MPO, for Rock Island Prison Defense Facility consisted of two roof guards, two tower guards, and six patrol guards who doubled at station post details. Technically, that made Mason part of the prison defense guard even though his