Read Online Zombie Dawn Outbreak by Michael G. Thomas - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael G. Thomas
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to his desk, the bored IT worker slumped back into his chair, back to the boring reality of work.
Chris finally walked into the office, he was pale and even sweatier than the rest, he looked terrible, but no one spoke a word to him. Nobody wanted to risk having a verbal beating from Jones. Finally, it was lunch time. Not a second had gone past twelve before the entire room stood and headed for the canteen.
“Chris, you haven’t put an ounce of work into this day, you can use your lunch break to make up at least some of the time you’ve lost,” said Jones.
What a swine, everyone thought it, no one said it. The room cleared as Chris sat back down, he really was ill enough that he should be at home, but Jones wouldn’t let that fact reduce his bad attitude. To be fair, his sickness was probably self-inflicted. You cannot expect to rush off for a drunken weekend and then return on a Monday morning in a workable state. None of this changed the fact that Jones was a complete nob.
In the canteen Dave sat down with the two colleagues that he at least had some interest in talking to, Barry and James. The three sat around a table, unpacking the contents of the plastic lunch boxes all had brought, as they always did. Half an hour went by of chatting about the usual topics, cars and women. The lunch breaks were the only bearable part of the job, when friends could relax and talk as they wanted. However, they were always too aware that Jones would listen in on a regular basis, desperately trying to dig new dirt on his slaves for later use.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bristol, England
It had been a long morning when Gary and Matt pulled up at McDonalds to get their lunch. The two police officers had worked together for two years now, quickly becoming close friends, both men were in their thirties. Gary had joined the force with images of high speed chases and action. He loved his action movies and his treasured Ducati superbike. The reality of the job was that he’d never handled a gun and was behind the wheel of a diesel Vauxhall Astra. McDonalds was a completely unglamorous way to spend their break, but it was a routine that they’d fallen into.
The two men got out of their car and strolled over to the front door of the fast food chain. They both wore high visibility stab vests over white shirts. It was too hot for jumpers.
“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” said Matt.
“Know what you mean, mate,” said Gary.
Getting through the glass doors they were confronted with a large queue, they could already feel the gazing stares upon them. Children looked at them out of interest, adults out of disgust, they didn’t care.
“Fuck me, I’m starving,” said Matt.
“Easy on the language mate, there are kids about,” said Gary.
“Nothing they haven’t heard before, I’m sure,” said Matt.
Gary said no more, he knew it was useless arguing with his friend. Matt often got the two of them into trouble as he would rush headlong into every situation and show few common courtesies.
“Get up to much on the weekend?” asked Matt.
“Went for a ride, took my son to the zoo, watched some TV, that’s about it, you?” asked Gary.
“Not a lot, spent most of it watching Dave,” said Matt.
“What a waste,” said Gary.
“What?” asked Matt.
“Well all you do is whine all week that you’re bored and then you get to the weekend and do nothing,” said Gary.
“Ah, fuck it,” said Matt.
They’d been waiting for just two minutes, but it felt much longer. They were almost at the front of the queue when the radio on Gary’s chest rung out, the unpleasant sound of their lunch break about to be spoiled.
“Fuck me,” said Matt.
“Hang on, mate,” said Gary.
“We have a riot in progress at the University of the West of England, Frenchay Campus, all officers report immediately to their stations for briefing,” the despatch officer said.
“Hell yeah, we may get to beat some student skulls in, that’s worth
Chris finally walked into the office, he was pale and even sweatier than the rest, he looked terrible, but no one spoke a word to him. Nobody wanted to risk having a verbal beating from Jones. Finally, it was lunch time. Not a second had gone past twelve before the entire room stood and headed for the canteen.
“Chris, you haven’t put an ounce of work into this day, you can use your lunch break to make up at least some of the time you’ve lost,” said Jones.
What a swine, everyone thought it, no one said it. The room cleared as Chris sat back down, he really was ill enough that he should be at home, but Jones wouldn’t let that fact reduce his bad attitude. To be fair, his sickness was probably self-inflicted. You cannot expect to rush off for a drunken weekend and then return on a Monday morning in a workable state. None of this changed the fact that Jones was a complete nob.
In the canteen Dave sat down with the two colleagues that he at least had some interest in talking to, Barry and James. The three sat around a table, unpacking the contents of the plastic lunch boxes all had brought, as they always did. Half an hour went by of chatting about the usual topics, cars and women. The lunch breaks were the only bearable part of the job, when friends could relax and talk as they wanted. However, they were always too aware that Jones would listen in on a regular basis, desperately trying to dig new dirt on his slaves for later use.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bristol, England
It had been a long morning when Gary and Matt pulled up at McDonalds to get their lunch. The two police officers had worked together for two years now, quickly becoming close friends, both men were in their thirties. Gary had joined the force with images of high speed chases and action. He loved his action movies and his treasured Ducati superbike. The reality of the job was that he’d never handled a gun and was behind the wheel of a diesel Vauxhall Astra. McDonalds was a completely unglamorous way to spend their break, but it was a routine that they’d fallen into.
The two men got out of their car and strolled over to the front door of the fast food chain. They both wore high visibility stab vests over white shirts. It was too hot for jumpers.
“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” said Matt.
“Know what you mean, mate,” said Gary.
Getting through the glass doors they were confronted with a large queue, they could already feel the gazing stares upon them. Children looked at them out of interest, adults out of disgust, they didn’t care.
“Fuck me, I’m starving,” said Matt.
“Easy on the language mate, there are kids about,” said Gary.
“Nothing they haven’t heard before, I’m sure,” said Matt.
Gary said no more, he knew it was useless arguing with his friend. Matt often got the two of them into trouble as he would rush headlong into every situation and show few common courtesies.
“Get up to much on the weekend?” asked Matt.
“Went for a ride, took my son to the zoo, watched some TV, that’s about it, you?” asked Gary.
“Not a lot, spent most of it watching Dave,” said Matt.
“What a waste,” said Gary.
“What?” asked Matt.
“Well all you do is whine all week that you’re bored and then you get to the weekend and do nothing,” said Gary.
“Ah, fuck it,” said Matt.
They’d been waiting for just two minutes, but it felt much longer. They were almost at the front of the queue when the radio on Gary’s chest rung out, the unpleasant sound of their lunch break about to be spoiled.
“Fuck me,” said Matt.
“Hang on, mate,” said Gary.
“We have a riot in progress at the University of the West of England, Frenchay Campus, all officers report immediately to their stations for briefing,” the despatch officer said.
“Hell yeah, we may get to beat some student skulls in, that’s worth
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