Read Online The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) by Tripp Ellis - Free Book Online
Authors: Tripp Ellis
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intersection, and the rear end fishtailed. The four wheel drive kept pulling the vehicle along.
They were out of the line of sight of the APC for a few moments when Steele pushed open his door. “Slow up.”
Delroy slowed the vehicle. Steele leapt out and sprinted for cover between two houses. The SUV clamored away.
Steele crouched down, hiding behind a corner and some shrubs. He waited for the APC to round the corner. But he could hear movement behind him. Steele craned his neck to see a lurker shuffling toward him. It was a man in a tattered suit. Blood red eyes, and rotting flesh. Blowing the lurker’s head off would give away Steele’s position. The APC would be coming around the corner any moment. No time to engage the stiff or he’d lose his window of opportunity. The lurker was about fifteen feet away. With any luck, the APC would round the corner before the infected stumbled upon him.
Steele had the gunner in his sights the moment the APC turned. He gripped the trigger, waiting until the timing was just right.
CRACK!
Steele squeezed the trigger. The gunner’s head burst open. Blood oozed down the side of the vehicle. Before the body could even slump, Steele launched toward the APC. With his side arm in one hand, and a magnetic grenade in the other, Steele sprinted as fast as he could.
The gunner’s body was pulled down into the APC, and another man took his place. The new gunner swung the machine gun around toward Steele and fired off several rounds.
The major kept running straight toward him. He could hear bullets zip past his ears. Rounds exploded at his feet, blasting bits of concrete. Steele kept charging toward the muzzle flash. He fired off several 9mm rounds at the man’s head.
The bullets peppered the gunner. His body jerked with each hit, then he slumped over.
The air was full of smoke and smelled like a mix of gunpowder, diesel exhaust, and oil. It smelled like war, and Steele kind of liked that smell. It was exhilarating and his adrenaline spiked.
Steele’s heart was pounding and his blood rushing when he reached the APC. He armed the magnetic grenade and attached it to the wheel rim. Then he ran for his life and dove for cover on the other side of the street.
Five seconds later, the grenade detonated. The ground rumbled. Metal ripped apart, and rubber melted. The explosion rocked the APC, toppling it over on its side. Black smoke billowed from the burning tires. The S9 gel contained within the grenade cut through the hull and coated the interior. Steele could hear the screams of the men remaining inside.
One of the thugs tried to crawl out of the APC. His skin was charred and smoldering. He clawed his way through the top hatch and fell out onto the ground. He was unrecognizable. A collage of blackened and blistered skin. Red and raw.
Steele watched, cautiously. His instinct was to give medical aid to the wounded. But he knew there was at least one more guy inside, judging by the screams he had heard. Still a possible threat. The first rule of tactical combat casualty care is do not provide care if your life is in danger .
Steele had learned the hard way how deadly a dying man could be. It was early in his career, during his first tour in Syria. An insurgent detonated an IED (improvised explosive device) in a local school. The suicide bomber suffered massive injuries and was hemorrhaging profusely. Steele administered first aid, thinking the bomber could provide valuable intel. As Steele was hovering over the man, he jammed a knife in Steele’s chest. It punctured a lung. Steele almost died. That was the last time the major risked his life for anyone but his troops.
The man in the street gasped his last breath and fell silent. The interior of the APC seemed lifeless. Steele scanned the street. He didn’t see the Range Rover anywhere. The thought crossed his mind that Delroy and Parker had just left him. He couldn’t hear the sound of the engine. Just the crackling,
They were out of the line of sight of the APC for a few moments when Steele pushed open his door. “Slow up.”
Delroy slowed the vehicle. Steele leapt out and sprinted for cover between two houses. The SUV clamored away.
Steele crouched down, hiding behind a corner and some shrubs. He waited for the APC to round the corner. But he could hear movement behind him. Steele craned his neck to see a lurker shuffling toward him. It was a man in a tattered suit. Blood red eyes, and rotting flesh. Blowing the lurker’s head off would give away Steele’s position. The APC would be coming around the corner any moment. No time to engage the stiff or he’d lose his window of opportunity. The lurker was about fifteen feet away. With any luck, the APC would round the corner before the infected stumbled upon him.
Steele had the gunner in his sights the moment the APC turned. He gripped the trigger, waiting until the timing was just right.
CRACK!
Steele squeezed the trigger. The gunner’s head burst open. Blood oozed down the side of the vehicle. Before the body could even slump, Steele launched toward the APC. With his side arm in one hand, and a magnetic grenade in the other, Steele sprinted as fast as he could.
The gunner’s body was pulled down into the APC, and another man took his place. The new gunner swung the machine gun around toward Steele and fired off several rounds.
The major kept running straight toward him. He could hear bullets zip past his ears. Rounds exploded at his feet, blasting bits of concrete. Steele kept charging toward the muzzle flash. He fired off several 9mm rounds at the man’s head.
The bullets peppered the gunner. His body jerked with each hit, then he slumped over.
The air was full of smoke and smelled like a mix of gunpowder, diesel exhaust, and oil. It smelled like war, and Steele kind of liked that smell. It was exhilarating and his adrenaline spiked.
Steele’s heart was pounding and his blood rushing when he reached the APC. He armed the magnetic grenade and attached it to the wheel rim. Then he ran for his life and dove for cover on the other side of the street.
Five seconds later, the grenade detonated. The ground rumbled. Metal ripped apart, and rubber melted. The explosion rocked the APC, toppling it over on its side. Black smoke billowed from the burning tires. The S9 gel contained within the grenade cut through the hull and coated the interior. Steele could hear the screams of the men remaining inside.
One of the thugs tried to crawl out of the APC. His skin was charred and smoldering. He clawed his way through the top hatch and fell out onto the ground. He was unrecognizable. A collage of blackened and blistered skin. Red and raw.
Steele watched, cautiously. His instinct was to give medical aid to the wounded. But he knew there was at least one more guy inside, judging by the screams he had heard. Still a possible threat. The first rule of tactical combat casualty care is do not provide care if your life is in danger .
Steele had learned the hard way how deadly a dying man could be. It was early in his career, during his first tour in Syria. An insurgent detonated an IED (improvised explosive device) in a local school. The suicide bomber suffered massive injuries and was hemorrhaging profusely. Steele administered first aid, thinking the bomber could provide valuable intel. As Steele was hovering over the man, he jammed a knife in Steele’s chest. It punctured a lung. Steele almost died. That was the last time the major risked his life for anyone but his troops.
The man in the street gasped his last breath and fell silent. The interior of the APC seemed lifeless. Steele scanned the street. He didn’t see the Range Rover anywhere. The thought crossed his mind that Delroy and Parker had just left him. He couldn’t hear the sound of the engine. Just the crackling,
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