Free Zombie Hunter by Derek Ailes Page A

panel was flashing.  He had a message from the compound.  He tapped the screen and the image of Marcus Kronze appeared.  He was in his late sixties.  He looked a lot older due to the stress of keeping the compound safe. 
    “Marcus, it has been a long time.  How’s the council life?”
    “Not good.  We need to see you immediately.  We have a special assignment for you.  Top priority.”
    “Top priority?  You got my attention.”
    “Devlin, get here as fast as you can.”
    “Marcus, I’m on my way.”

             The Compound, Washington D.C.
     
    Devlin sat in the lobby outside the Council Chamber.  Maria, the receptionist, tried not to stare at him.  He was considered a legend among the inhabitants of the compound.  He rescued a majority of the inhabitants from the outskirts since the plague had started.  With his tattooed, ripped arms, and the spiked black hair with a touch of grey, he was the sexiest man she had ever seen.  He wore a black uniform with the sleeves ripped off.  He looked like a soldier always ready for his next mission.
    The door to the chamber opened and Marcus walked out.  He was dressed in a fancy white uniform standard for all the six council members.  He shook Devlin’s right hand and signaled for him to follow him into the chamber.  The chamber was located inside the White House.  He walked into the chamber and admired the rustic feel.  A painting of the last five presidents, from before the zombie outbreak, hung behind the council’s six chairs.  Ironically, the first black president was the last president before being replaced by the council.  There was no more Senate or House of Representatives; most of the members becoming victims of the zombie plague.  There were no more pointless debates about what measures needed to be taken for the United States -- only action.
    The six council members, three men and three women, all welcomed him.
    “Let’s get right down to business.  Time is of the essence,” Marcus said.  “Earlier today we received word of a girl that had been bitten by a zombie two months ago and as of yesterday, she still hadn’t mutated into a zombie.  Our scientists believe that her blood may be a cure for the zombie plague.  We sent a helicopter to rendezvous with her and her colleagues outside of Chicago.  The helicopter was destroyed by a missile.”
    “The Dregs,” Devlin said.
                  The Dregs was a group of Mexican mercenaries that took over most of the areas of the United States.  They controlled the outposts throughout the country, and the survivors lived in them under heavy rule.  Many criminals lived in the outposts where crime was high, women were forced to live as sex slaves, people were addicted to drugs supplied by the Dregs, and children were the work force.  These outposts were prone to zombie attacks.
                  “We want you to go to Chicago and find this girl and bring her back here.  We have the last known coordinates of the helicopter before it crashed,” Marcus said.
                  “If the Dregs have her, then you know they will do whatever they can to find the cure,” Tamilia, the Arabian councilwoman, said.
                  “For a huge profit,” Gerald, the elderly black councilman, added.
                  “The Dregs already contacted us that they have her and will release her to us for complete control of this compound.  They haven’t shown us any proof that they indeed have her, but it’s only a matter of time until they do,” Marcus said.
                  “Then, I better leave immediately,” Devlin said.
                  “Devlin, do whatever you deem necessary to bring her back alive,” Marcus said.
                  “Don’t worry.  I’ll bring her back,” Devlin said and walked out of the chamber.
                  Devlin exited the White House and headed for