Outbreak: Boston by Robert Van Dusen Read Free Book Online

to defer to her higher rank (even if it was from a different branch of the service) and Eamon joined him. Amy grunted, surprised and satisfied that the very first official order she had ever given actually got obeyed. She walked quickly to the trailer, climbed the two metal stairs and knocked on the door.
    “Enter!” shouted a muffled voice. Amy opened the door and found herself in a cramped room stuffed full of all kinds of communications equipment. The air in the trailer stank of cigarette smoke, stale coffee and unwashed bodies. A tall, skinny Hispanic man in a black policeman’s uniform turned in his chair and regarded her little interest. “What do you want?”
    Amy came to attention and saluted. “Senior Airman Frays reporting, sir.” she said sharply. The man stared at her a moment and eventually she let her hand fall awkwardly to her side. “ Um…as far as I know Checkpoint Twelve has been overrun, sir.”
    The lieutenant's face twitched. “So?” he muttered angrily as he swiveled back to answer a phone. The man's jerky movements and dilated pupils told Frays that the policeman was flying high on something. She took a few steps closer to the lieutenant, her nose wrinkled at the smell of dirty diapers coming from the man. Cocaine and strong coffee: not a good combination.
    Amy cleared her throat, suddenly a little uneasy. “I think one of the Marine Combat Engineers opened fire.” she recounted as the policeman looked as if there was little she could say that would interest him, yet she pushed on with it anyway. “The crowd went crazy. A handful of the civilians had guns and they started shooting. At each other, at us, all over the place.”
    “So?” the lieutenant grumbled. “You got your machine guns and stuff don't you? What the hell happened?”
    “Somebody on the other side of the bridge drove a dump truck through the crowd, sir.” Amy answered, shivering slightly at the memory of the people flying in the air, the screams. “The driver struck the Humvee I was in hard enough to send it into the river.”
    “You got away.” The policeman spun back and forth in his chair, eyeballing the young woman in front of him. “You left your buddies, didn't you?”
    Anger flared up and Amy felt her cheeks become flushed. “Sergeant Emery, my Flight Sergeant, got shot in the head when the crowd started shooting.” she said bitterly, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “Another guy in my flight, Airman Jacobson, was trapped in the Humvee when it sank. I-I tried, sir, but I couldn't get him out.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment then opened them slowly.
    “I'm sure you did.” the lieutenant said. A condescending grin spread across his face. “You may go now.”
    It took every ounce of willpower she could muster to not slam the door on her way out. She took a half moment to regain her composure before joining Eamon and Lacey were unloading the trucks. They were helping a handful of Army privates stack supplies: boxes of MREs, cases of bottled water, tents, and medical supplies. A large white man with sergeant's stripes on his sleeve walked around barking orders at the lot of them. When he noticed her he started off in her direction.
    “You just reported to Lieutenant Guzman?” he asked as he came within speaking distance. The man looked her up and down. “Hurry up and help your guys get these trucks unloaded so we can get these tents up. We're expecting wounded soon.”
    She hustled over to the trucks. “How many wounded?” Amy asked loudly as she took a case of water that one of the privates handed down to her.
    “I dunno, Zoomie.” he said quietly as he slid a pile of rough pile of tent poles towards the end of the truck. “Sounds like a whole bunch.”
    The next half an hour or so passed in a flurry of activity: setting up tents and cots, dumping the bottles of water into big coolers on wheels and setting up tables to distribute the MREs. A Deuce and a Half pulled up just as