Free Outbreak: Boston by Robert Van Dusen

corpse's eyes shut. Amy stashed her protective gear back in its carrier then swapped out the SIM card in the dead man's phone for the one in her own. She groaned in frustration: now her phone worked perfectly save for the fact it did not get a signal.
    Amy took three of the rifle magazines and handed the others to Lacey. “Checkpoint Ten is getting overrun.” she said quickly as she stuffed one of the mags into the empty space in her carrier and tucked the others into one of the cargo pockets on her trousers. She dropped two of the green metallic baseballs into a dump pouch on her LCS and indicated that Lacey should take the other two. “Eamon, you drive the Humvee. I'll man the crew served. Lacey, bring up the rear in the Five Ton. We might have to help evacuate the friendlies, so be ready to pick them up.”
    Their little convoy took off like a shot towards the other bridge. Eamon seemed to be enjoying himself, though Amy wished he would try to avoid some of the potholes. Lacey didn't seem to have any trouble keeping up with the pace Eamon set, the larger truck knocking obstructions out of its way with ease. Some of the voices on the radio started to shout that they were running low on ammunition. Frays keyed the radio. “This is Bravo Three Four.” she said quickly, looking back over her shoulder at Lacey through the windscreen of the Five Ton “I've got an empty Five Ton. You guys up there just hold out a little longer. We're on our way to the supply point and we'll be right there with resupply. How copy?”
    Several voices affirmed that they had heard her when she had Eamon head back north. Thankfully, Lacey had been listening to the radio traffic and followed suit. Ten minutes of driving like lunatics brought them to the nearest supply point. “Oh, no...” Amy moaned as they entered the compound.
    Piles of garbage blew around the ruins of what, up until recently at least, had been the EOC. They motored slowly towards where the supply tent was, every nerve standing on end. The air was thick with the smell of burning rubber and canvas: what used to be the mess tent was now a smoldering pile of canvas. When they came to the supply tent, things weren't that much better. Containers, papers and cardboard boxes littered the ground around the tent.
    “Let's get all the water, food and ammo we can find loaded up in the Five Ton.” Amy said as she snatched up a carton of MREs. “Put the ammo up front so they can get that unloaded first.”
    Lacey gave her a sour look. “Why don't we just take this stuff and bug out?” he asked, slinging a cardboard container of bottled water into the bed of the Five Ton. “What the hell are we staying her for?”
    Amy walked up to the man. “I'm not gonna argue with you, Lacey.” she said angrily, stopping a few paces away from him. “We're gonna help those people, got that?”
    They had scrounged up three or four metal ammunition cans of 5.56 NATO ammunition along with a full can of .50 cal rounds and about four hundred rounds of 9mm NATO. There were also three M16A3 assault rifles (one of which had another M203 mounted on it) that did not have a current owner, two M9s and a couple Glock 17s they found on some policemen who wouldn't be needing them anymore. Just as important, they managed to find a couple boxes of empty magazines for the M9s and AR-15 pattern rifles. On the food front, they managed to turn up about a pallet and a half or so of MREs and two pallets of bottled water. Eamon helped himself to one of the dead policeman's Kevlar vests.
    Once they were on their way Lacey stared at the young woman sticking out of the cupola of the Humvee ahead of him. He kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other slipped down to the butt of his pistol, his index finger pushing the button that released the holster's locking mechanism. The weapon slid out almost on its own and found its way to his lap.
    Frays was scanning the buildings in front of them, not paying any mind to hi