Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3

by Lawson, Hayley

  Pandemic Z Book Three (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright 2020 Hayley Lawson

  Cover Copyright Hayley Lawson

  Hayley Lawson Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of the copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact info@lawsonbookstore.com.

  Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Warning UK English in this story.

  Thank you, Gavin & Callie x

  Content

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Authors Note

  Chapter One

  The airport lights flickered and buzzed as the group of survivors recovered from the wave of zombies. The night moved quickly, and daylight was coming; a new day full of new horrors. Sergeant Terry Turner rubbed his beard as he smiled at his daughter Lena. He was proud of her.

  “What the hell is that?” Lena asked. She heard a faint growl but couldn’t see anyone close by.

  Sergeant Turner looked down the road towards the tarmac. “I hear it, too,” he said, his tone serious.

  Harrison panted as he joined the others beside the Land Rover. He tried to hide his t-shirt as he alerted both the humans and werewolves of danger. “You hear that, right?”

  Sergeant Turner and Lena nodded. At least one zombie wasn’t far away. The snarling figure emerged from the darkness of night, its face eerily illuminated by the flickering orange light. He wore an airline pilot’s uniform. His stripes were ripped on his shoulders, and his name badge was crooked on his chest. Harrison gasped as he watched the zombie move closer

  “Captain Petrus,” he growled.

  Lena looked directly at the captain. She hadn’t thought of him since he left to destroy the glass wall. It had never crossed her mind he could be dead—or worse—but there he was. The zombie in front of them.

  Harrison breathed heavily through his nose. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked.

  Sergeant Turner watched as the oversized airline pilot stumbled closer and closer. He racked his brain trying to think of a way to stop the zombie.

  “The Land Rover,” Lena said as she faced the zombie. She knew the huge vehicle could take on the single zombie coming towards them.

  Harrison glanced over his shoulder at the large machine. “The Land Rover,” he repeated, straightening himself and looking at his friends.

  Lena waited no longer for permission. She was itching to turn into a werewolf for the maiden voyage, but she had no other clothes to change into. She pulled the Land Rover’s door open and hopped into the driver’s seat. She was happy to be behind the wheel of a large vehicle again.

  “Sergeant Turner,” Harrison began, stepping out of the way of the Rover. “You may want to move.”

  The sergeant nodded, shuffling out of the Rover’s war path. Lena revved the powerful vehicle and pushed it into first gear. She was sad to see the airline pilot was now something so horrible. He had been a great ally on the plane while beating back the zombies. She hated having to kill him for good, but she knew there was no other way.

  “I am so sorry, Captain Petrus,” she said to the empty cab around her. She inhaled deeply slamming her foot on the accelerator.

  The Land Rover jumped forward, powering right into the gray, gnarled flesh of Captain Petrus. Lena didn’t stop until the airline captain was nothing more than a pile of oozing roadkill, a torn-up picture of a young man still clutched in his oversized hands. He was gone forever.

  Barry emerged from the parkade exit just as Lena hopped down from the driver’s seat. “Whoa… Impressive roadkill.” He motioned to the pile of zombie guts on the floor.

  Lena tilted her head to the left. “More depressing than impressive. That was Captain Petrus.”

  Sadness reflected in Barry’s eyes as he once again looked at the goopy pile. He recognized the messy uniform, and his brows furrowed. “I see.”

  Lena gave a light sigh, hating to see his normally upbeat demeanor so down. She forced a smile. “You know, on the omnivores top one hundred things to eat before they die, one is roadkill.”

  His head perked up, and his face scrunched up. “Uh, hell no,” he replied, backing away quickly. He had eaten some crazy things in his travels, but nothing would motivate him to eat roadkill.

  Sergeant Turner stroked his thick beard while deep in thought. “We need to get these people to safety, and we also need more clothes.”

  The flow of passengers gradually emerged from the dark parkade. They had heard the action outside die down and were tired of the cramped minibus. Claire glanced swiftly at each man, hoping to find her husband among them. She hadn’t had contact with him since they landed in London.

  She nervously approached the sergeant. “Excuse me?” she said timidly. “I’m looking for my husband, Sean Welch.”

  Sergeant Turner nodded slowly, still stroking his beard. “I sent Sean on a mission to shut down the nuclear reactor. He should be on his way. He’s just fine, though. I promise.” His voice was soothing as he spoke. He’d never been good with personal relations. His voice was rough, and he didn’t like to beat around the bush when it came to serious matters, but he managed this time.

  “Oh, thank God,” Claire cried in relief. Her husband was safe, and her children were still alive, too. Things were going well for her. “Thank you, sir.” She smiled gratefully.

  The sergeant nodded quickly before gently pushing past her, heading to the rest of the soldiers who awaited their orders. “Men, I want you to go find some spare clothes—lots of them.”

  “I think these people need us more,” a tall soldier said in a thick Irish accent. “I think we should go find a good place for them.”

  Sergeant Turner sighed. “I was getting to that bit,” he hastily added ashamed he hadn’t mentioned that part first.

  The men nodded and listened to their further orders. They guided the people inside the airport. Some went willingly, wanting to get out of the way of danger, and others wanted to help. Emily stood beside Barry, refusing to move.

  “You should go with them,” Barry suggested. He wanted Emily to be safe.

  Emily shook her head. “No, you’ll need two more hands wherever you go,” she said firmly. She’d made up her mind, and nothing would change it for her.

  Lena approached her father who was pacing back and forth, deep in thought. The look of concern was ablaze in his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, praying he would answer her.

  He sniffed deeply and stopped his pacing. “I need to call Sean—see where he is.”

  “Why don’t you then?” She didn’t understand why he was hesitating over something so simple.

  The sergeant shuffled his feet, unsure how to tell Lena that he was afraid of what Sean would say. “Nothing is stopping me,” he said, harsher than h
e’d intended.

  “Sorry.” Lena backed away. All she wanted to do was help, but instead she had only managed to irritate her father more. “I just wanted to help.”

  The sergeant pulled his outdated phone from his pocket and flicked it on. He pushed the number in quickly and sighed in relief as the phone rang out. The tone seemed to drone on forever. A distant-sounding voice yelled something he couldn’t understand, but he knew it was Sean.

  “Sean! It’s Turner here,” he spoke urgently into the phone.

  “Terry, good to hear from you!” he yelled as the background noise grew louder.

  The static crackled around his voice, and the sergeant had to strain to hear him. “Mate, it’s good to hear you… Is the fallout under control?” he asked, pacing again as he spoke.

  “Yes!” Sean yelled into the phone.

  A beeping noise caught the sergeant off guard. He looked down at the screen of his phone to see a large message flashing across. PRIME MINISTER. The sergeant gasped, knowing the situation wasn’t good.

  “Sergeant! What’s going on?” Sean screamed.

  The sergeant panicked. “Hang on. I need to put you on hold.”

  He smacked the hold button as the same flashing message beeped again across his phone. He put the phone to his ear and inhaled deeply.

  “Good morning, Mr. Terry Turner.” The voice was monotone but still had a cockiness to it. Sergeant Turner held the phone close to his ear making sure he caught every word.

  He growled into the device. “It’s Sergeant Turner.”

  The monotone voice on the other end ignored him. “We are members of the new order under Asher Brannick known as H.I.V.E.”

  The sergeant sighed and paced again as the voice continued to talk.

  “We are the new world, the victors of this great nation. We will soon be in control all over the globe. Even now, our elite men are controlling the zombie slaves for our greater good!” The once monotone voice filled with dedication and passion.

  “Wow, thanks Adolf,” Sergeant Turner sarcastically spat.

  The voice continued again. “It would be good for you not to mock us, Terry Robert Turner.”

  Sergeant Turner sighed angrily. Lena had told him about the people controlling the zombies. She told him how they used full names to incite fear and submission into their prey. Their tactics would not work on him; he was too strong for their weak mind games.

  “We are the future. To prove our power, we have Prime Minister Kelly Owens captive. You will find her at her usual address of 10 Downing Street in the city of London.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. I know where the bloody prime minister lives!” Sergeant Turner spat into the phone.

  The voice boomed with laughter, and the noise rattled around his tired brain. “If you come to get her, I must warn you that you’ll be walking into a trap. Is she worth the risk, Terry Turner?”

  The sergeant knew if they didn’t rescue the prime minister, then H.I.V.E. would be able to control the entire country. It was worth the risk. He thought they had the winning card, but the enemy didn’t know they were werewolves.

  “In addition to that victory, we also have special H.I.V.E. guards at Buckingham Palace. They are… protecting Her Majesty, the Queen.” The voice cackled as he finished the sentence.

  Sergeant Turner thought the words over in his mind. They had the prime minister and the Queen. He didn’t know which leader to rescue first, and surprising those holding the VIPs hostage was out of the question.

  The mission was extremely dangerous, and the odds were not in their favor. Still, he had an idea. The power plant Sean and his men had just shut down was closer to Buckingham Palace than those at the airport were. It made sense to send Sean and the other members of the platoon.

  He wondered if members of the EJG were close. The elite platoon that Lena had been a part of so long ago would be a helpful asset to their mission. He felt more powerful with a plan in hand and a confident feeling they would win.

  The voice continued, pulling the sergeant back to reality. “You will not succeed in your mission. You can only save one, and even then, we’re far more powerful than you could ever be.” The person sounded overly confident.

  The sergeant opened his mouth to argue but thought it best not to. The less the enemy knew of his plans the better.

  “One thing is for sure, Terry Robert Turner,” the voice said seriously, “you will not survive.”

  The line went dead.

  “Bastards!” Sergeant Turner cursed into the phone. The silence instead of static crackling was welcoming when Sean answered again. “Those little shits!” he told Sean angrily.

  “What is it, sir?” he asked.

  Sergeant Turner fumed. “The H.I.V.E. has the PM and the Queen.” He spoke quickly, almost spitting the words out like a machine gun eating through its bullets.

  The sergeant heard a pregnant pause before a worried sigh on the other side. “We’re close to the queen, unless she’s in Windsor.”

  Sergeant Turner could easily detect the worry in his voice. He knew all Sean wanted to do was see his wife, but it wasn’t time yet. “Sorry, mate. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you folks.” There was another pause before Sean awkwardly cleared his throat. Turner’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”

  “Kearley is gone,” he replied. “She sacrificed herself for us.” His voice was full of obvious sadness.

  Sergeant Turner was silent, unsure what to say. He didn’t know Kearley that well, but he was sad that she was gone. “She was a soldier and died as a hero,” he said softly into the phone.

  “Yes, sir. But now we must go to Buckingham Palace. Sir, excuse my pessimism, but three men can’t do this alone.” His voice was almost a whisper.

  The sergeant nodded. He’d already thought of that. “Contact members of the EJG.” He paced back to where Lena and the others were. “They should be close, and they’ll help. If there’s any argument, tell them Terry Turner has ordered them to.” He came to a stop beside his Land Rover.

  “Yes, sir,” he said formally. “Is it okay if I speak to my wife?”

  Sergeant Turner was happy to oblige, but it meant he had to find Claire again in the crowd of passengers milling around the road. “CLAIRE!” he yelled over the people’s heads.

  “Sean! Oh my God, Sean!” Claire shouted with excitement and tears in her voice. “Are you alright?” She had run to the sergeant excitedly and was all but panting from the exertion and excitement. She was grateful she could finally talk to her husband again.

  “Claire, I’m okay,” he said quickly. “I have to go on another mission, but I will see you after that okay?”

  Claire felt tears come to her eyes. She wanted to be in his arms again. “Please be safe, honey. Come home in one piece,” she added like she always did before he was deployed overseas.

  Tears flowed down Claire’s face as she handed the phone back to the sergeant. He put a large hand on her petite shoulder and forced a small smile, one meant for comfort, though he wasn’t sure how convincing it was. She pushed a grin on her sad face, appreciating the sergeant and his efforts.

  “Sean, go save the queen,” the sergeant said into the phone, looking at Claire as he spoke. “We’ll go save Mrs. Owens.”

  Chapter Two

  A soldier returned to the Land Rover, struggling with three souvenir bags nearly full to bursting with stolen tourist clothes. Bright neon shirts showed the London skyline, black V-necks had slogans and stereotypical British phrases plastered all over them, and the pants had London written down one leg in a vast array of colors.

  “Sergeant Turner,” the soldier said, throwing the bags down on the cement, “here are some clothes.” He stopped to adjust his collar line. “Sir, I must warn you that the clothes are the least of our worries.”

  The sergeant plucked the goods from the side of the road and threw them into the Land Rover. “Thank you.” He heard a faint snarling in the distance. “What are the other problems?” he
asked, already knowing what the soldier would reply with.

  The soldier inhaled deeply through his nose. “The zombies are, sir,” he replied. “They’re everywhere!”

  Sergeant Turner nodded, thinking for a moment. “Stay here with the civilians and keep them safe. We have other things to do.” The soldier came to a sluggish attention, and the sergeant turned to his own team of werewolves and humans.

  The soldier scurried off, beckoning the civilians inside the airport. Dawn was upon them, bringing more horrors and enemies in numbers never seen before. Harrison, Barry, and Emily stood where they were; nothing could move them.

  Lena looked at her friends. They were an odd mix of people, but they could be unstoppable together. “Are you sure you want to come with us Barry?” she asked the filthy computer genius.

  Barry grinned like a child. “Of course, I do! This is my opportunity to kick ass like all my movie heroes!”

  Lena couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Barry. Their mission wasn’t quite like a movie, and she knew all too well that rescue missions barely ever made them heroes. “I’ll shave your hair. Then you’ll look just like Bruce Willis,” she joked, not wanting to burst his bubble.

  His hands sprung to his head. It was obvious he liked his hair just where it was. “Don’t even think about touching my hair!” he yelped playfully. “I can be a hero with my hair fully intact, thank you.”

  Harrison looked from Barry to the Land Rover. “So, what is the plan?” he asked.

  The tall, frail sergeant joined the group nervously. There were so many thoughts and theories racing through his brain, and his head pounded with pain. “Well…” he began, trying to straighten his thoughts. “We have to rescue the prime minister,” he said slowly, carefully weighing each word.

  “At 10 Downing Street?” Barry asked excitedly. He had only ever dreamed about visiting the famous number ten. He had designed a game around a zombie chase through the red plush halls of the prime minister’s home, but he never thought he would actually get to go in person.