Read Online Justice by Gillian Zane - Free Book Online Page B

the herd in New Orleans East.  

    We drove the all-terrain vehicles over lawns, neutral grounds and even through over-grown fields to avoid stalled cars and random road blocks.  

    The vehicles in the road were beginning to rust, and they were covered in so much dirt and debris they looked ancient. Houses were hidden by overgrown weeds and tall grass, the fast-growing trees and shrubs all but obscuring most houses. There were no more lawns and neat sidewalks. New Orleans resembled the apocalyptic landscape it was. I thought I had seen the worst after Katrina. I wasn’t from New Orleans, I grew up mostly around the Pensacola area in Florida. At the time of Katrina I was staying with a foster family that considered themselves religious and they had made the trek to New Orleans to help rebuild with their church group. They had brought me with them, citing it as a learning experience.  

    The three months we stayed here after the storm changed my life forever.  

    It was why I moved here after I left the Army, why I chose to return to this tragic city that had finally begun to return to normal. The city had finally begun stretching out, finding its place, when the world collapsed under the onslaught of the dead.  

    After the floods from Hurricane Katrina, the houses had been a mess, like someone had come in and shook everything up and drenched them in mud. But there was life. There were people within the houses. There were sounds of power tools and the hum of military vehicles. Hammers and the tinny sound of music.  

    I remember sitting on a discarded and taped up refrigerator eating red beans and rice out of a Styrofoam to-go plate delivered by the Red Cross. I remember sitting there, looking at the destruction around me, while the sound of a brass band filtered down the street. And I never felt more at ease .   Because in the midst of that destruction, people came together. People stopped and chatted with each other. They cried in the street and held on to complete strangers. They looked at their devastated city and had hope. Hope for the future. It was inspiring.  

TWELVE | PTSD Special

    Morel decided he would be better served following Romeo into battle. It was a wise decision on his part, probably the first he had made in a long time.  

    This left me teamed up with Heather Murphey and a few troopers that were on her team.   This was fine by me. Murphey was actually an old friend of mine and the reason we had hooked up with this group in the first place. She came looking for me and the MJ group for reinforcements to help take out Lakeview. And I guess the rest is history.  

    We loaded up the vehicle with more weapons and supplies and opened up the roof rack. It was equipped with a defensive kit, so the roof folded up and out so a shooter could use the roof plates for cover. There would be four fighters in the vehicle, and the rest of the team would be mounted on four-wheelers and bikes that they’d gathered in the last week.  

    “We’re going in at two in the morning, that’s in six hours, people. Get some rest,” Poche called after we gathered in the front room of the mansion they had taken over. All the vehicles were ready, everything was locked and loaded, we all had our orders - it was now a waiting game.  

    “You and Lani can crash in my room,” Murphey said and motioned for us to follow her. She had a room on the first floor to the back of the house. It was down a hallway, past the kitchen and breakfast bar, so most likely where a full-time servant had lived, but the room was large and carpeted, which was perfect.   I threw my pack down on the ground and sprawled out.    

    Lani tried to do the same, but it was obvious she wasn’t used to sleeping on a hard floor. She couldn’t hold still. She squirmed and sighed until Murphey relented.  

    “Shit. Take the bed,” she grumbled and yanked her blanket off and threw it down on the floor by me.  

    “I can sleep on the floor, I’m