Sudden Death: A Zombie Novel by James Carlson Read Free Book Online Page A

in the job, it was simply who he was now. Farah however, would see him quit tomorrow. It was a long ongoing issue between them and he knew that if they couldn’t resolve it, it would eventually tear them apart.
    As he passed through the Hatfield tunnel, he was disturbed from his thoughts by the sight of blue lights bearing down on him in his rear-view mirror. Moving over into the left-hand lane, he was passed by three Hertfordshire police carriers, travelling in tight convoy at about 90 miles per hour. The din of their sirens was amplified to an intolerable wail by the arcing wall of the tunnel.
    Where were they going in such a hurry, Muz wondered. Then the realisation struck him. Had all those officers been called to Colindale as well? As his concerns grew for what awaited him when he got to the nick, he accelerated to well above the speed limit.
    Colindale police station was a modern, three-storey building with a welcoming ground floor glass frontage, situated on a bend in Grahame Park Way. Although Muz had been working here for the past five years, he had never seen it even close to being as busy as this. Normally at this time of night, as there was no civilian office staff working, he would have been allowed to park in the station’s rear yard. There would be no chance of that now though, he realised before he even got to the station.
    Both sides of Grahame Park Way were lined with parked vehicles: ambulances, TSG carriers, police mini-buses, dog vans, the three Herts carriers he had seen on the way in, and civilian cars belonging to all the officers who had apparently also been called into work. There were even two impressive looking Jankels, four by four armoured police trucks, parked between the trees on the area of rough ground just opposite the nick. What worried him the most however were the News vans, belonging to three separate networks. Whatever was happening really was a big deal then.
    Doubling back on himself, he finally found a tigh t spot to park, about four hundred metres back up the road. As he walked past the front office entrance to the side gate, he glimpsed the Station Reception Officers manning the desk. All three of them looked more than a little flustered at being inundated by crowding members of the Press.
    He swiped his warrant card to gain access to the building , through the private side door and was immediately surprised at the commotion within. Normally, at a quarter past four in the morning, the building would be almost vacant, except for the officers in the IBO office and custody. That was far from the case now. The corridors were thronged with people of all ranks, both in uniform and plain clothes. The majority were stood in tightly gathered groups, talking animatedly over each other. A few others weaved busily through them, making their way hurriedly from one office to another.
    “Muz,” someone called over the din.
    It was a Sergeant from his team, John Sparks. The man could not normally be flustered, but right now, he looked positively panicked.
    “Sarge ’, what’s going on?” Muz asked.
    “Are you level two public order trained?” Sparks asked.
    “No, just level three now,” Muz informed him.
    He had let his higher level of training lapse after the birth of his daughter, because Farah had been scared to death by his stories of the degrees of violence he had seen at public order events. She had told him that it was unfair on her and the child to put himself in such danger.
    “Shit,” said the Skipper, looking at a list he was holding in his hand. “ Okay, get all your PPE kit on and get up to the briefing room. There’s going to be another briefing in about five minutes.”
    With that, the Sergeant pressed through the crowded passage, calling after someone else. Still none the wiser as to what this was all about, Muz went to the locker room and put on his personal protection equipment: his met -vest and radio, and his belt with his baton, cuffs and CS spray. He had an