Simon had been driving for only a few minutes when his phone rang. Tyler had been trying to engage him in conversation, but was now sitting quietly, looking out the window. Must be Sanchez. Simon answered the phone without looking at the screen. “This is Zaine.
“Sir, our agents have checked out Norman Harris’s residence. They found a large cache of weapons and ammunition. We believe that he has been planning on striking out for some time now. The virus was merely an opportunistic choice. We’ve determined that he launched a third attack. This time in San Antonio.”
“Is there a pattern?”
“At first I thought so, but now it looks like his targets have been randomly chosen, which runs somewhat counter to his profile. We had expected him to target government buildings or military facilities. Instead, he seems to just be picking large gatherings to disperse the virus, although the first two venues may both have been jazz festivals, one in Atlanta, and the other in New Orleans. This third attack was at The Alamo. Nothing connected to jazz, or music of any kind.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Was that about the hospital?” Tyler asked, as Simon disconnected the call.
“No.”
“Are you in law enforcement or something?”
“No.” Simon turned his attention back to the road, and responded to Tyler’s further questions with silence.
“This is going to be a long trip,” muttered Tyler.
YOU ARE READING
The Z Contingency
Science FictionThe zombie apocalypse is coming. A scientist at the CDC has that terrifying realization when infected victims start displaying the symptoms predicted by his model. A virus responsible for hemorrhagic fevers is mutating into something that zombifie...
