Free Soldier On: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse by Shawn Chesser Page A

the heavily armored MRAP mine resistant armored personnel carrier.
    President Clay’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit interior, sitting directly across from her, wearing an impeccably maintained uniform, was the biggest man she had ever seen.
    Colonel Cornelius Shrill snapped off a precise salute before he spoke. “Madam President very pleased to meet you. But I wish it were under less dire circumstances.” He held the salute, fully anticipating reciprocity on the President’s part.
    “Likewise...” the President said, before she finally realized that protocol dictated she return the salute. Her mind worked overtime as she struggled to determine his rank from the embroidered black insignia on his softcover.
    Sensing her discomfort, the big man reached out his baseball glove size hand and spoke in a hushed tone trying to convey to her his utmost respect. “Colonel Cornelius Shrill, I’m the highest ranking man left at Schriever. Omega got everyone else.”
    The President felt the man’s grip loosen after his last statement. It hit her hard as well.
    “May I call you Cornelius?”
    “By all means ma’am, whatever you prefer.
    The President disengaged her firm hold on the colonel’s hand and flashed a rare brief smile. “Cornelius it is then.”
    “Madam President, with all due respect, may I ask you a question?”
    The new President was still not comfortable with her “battlefield” promotion. She hoped that it was a question she could truthfully answer. Before speaking she pulled the heavy door shut, leaving only her and the highest ranking man, in what would be the new Capital of the United States to talk in private. “What is it Colonel?”
    “Why are we driving from here to the base proper..?  I would have thought it safer to land at one of the bases main heli-pads.”
    Colonel Shrill remained silent awaiting her answer.
    “My secret service detail thought that other threats...” struggling to find the words, the President stared into the colonel’s eyes before divulging what she knew. “There are elements in these United States that are happy the Omega virus has diminished the population such as it has.”
    The look on Shrill’s face seemed out of place. He had seen and done it all during his fifty two years on the planet. The news hit him like a ninety five mile per hour fastball. “Let me get this straight ma’am. We are at war against the walking dead and there are people that want you dead?”
    Still struggling with how much she should disclose, the President answered in a hushed tone. “It’s bigger than that Cornelius. These very powerful men have been manipulating things from behind the scenes for nearly a century. We have reason to believe that they have followers serving in all branches of the military and they may be willing to commit acts of espionage. As hard as it is for me to believe, I still have to be cautious. Of course the undead are attacking us from the outside as we speak, but it’s the enemy that hides in plain sight that might do the most damage. These men are very wealthy, powerful, and they belong to the ultimate, “good ol boys club.” Every one of them is used to getting exactly what they want, and what they want is the United States all for them. Colonel...this is the event that they have been waiting so long for.”
    “What’s their ultimate goal Madam President?”
    “After the fall of our government they will be waiting in the wings to divide up the CONUS. Goal number two is to subjugate the remaining populace by any means necessary.  Someone has to do the dirty work in their new world order. In 1979 their leadership commissioned a massive granite monolith in Georgia. The locals call it the Guidestone . A lot of work went into making sure the stones stand precisely as to follow celestially the moon, sun and stars. GPS was in its infancy at the time it was erected. Given its build turned out so precise, points to them having some help from within our