Cassiday - Zombie Apocalypse

ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

The Chad Halverson Series

BRYAN CASSIDAY

Copyright 2016 by Bryan Cassiday

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Zombie Maelstrom

Bryan Cassiday

Copyright 2011 by Bryan Cassiday

Bryan Cassiday

Los Angeles

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition: December 2011

CHAPTER ONE

When the plague hit, it hit hard.

That was what the president called it, anyway. Plague .

Plague was just a euphemism for zombies , Chad Halverson knew. The president could call it anything he wanted. Halverson knew a zombie when he saw one. These things, diseased creatures or whatever they were, may have been infected by plague, but the creatures themselves, not the plague, were the most imminent threat at this point. The creatures bore an insatiable lust for human flesh.

Thirty-six-year-old Halverson worked for the National Clandestine Service, otherwise known as the black ops division of the CIA. The Agency had been tracking these worldwide outbreaks of plague ever since they had originated in China several weeks ago. The outbreaks were spreading like wildfire.

The director of the CIA, the sixtyish and donnish Ivy Leagueeducated Ernest Slocum, suspected terrorists of engineering the outbreaks of pox. In his mind, terrorists had concocted some kind of supergerm warfare. The question was, which terrorists?

The Agency, therefore, was treating these outbreaks as acts of war and was operating accordingly. As of yet, no outbreaks had been reported on American soil. Slocum, Halverson knew, figured it was only a matter of time.

At that moment, Halverson was flying on a 737 Boeing passenger jet bound for LAX. The jet was beginning its descent.

Seven hours earlier Halverson had received a call at Langleys CIA headquarters from the UCLA medical center. The receptionist had told him his younger brother by a year Dan had been involved in a car accident. As Chad had been listed as Dans next of kin in Dans wallet, she was notifying Chad.

Chad had not seen Dan in over three years and was looking forward to reuniting with him. Chad could only hope that Dan wasnt too seriously injured. Dan was Chads one close relative left, now that his parents had both died in, ironically it seemed to Chad considering Dans current predicament, a car accident.

As the jet descended, Halverson wondered if Dans accident had anything to do with the plague. Halverson had no reason to believe this. It was just that he had plague on his mind after having been bombarded at Langley with myriad reports of the epidemic burgeoning all over the world.

The plague probably had nothing to do with Dans accident, Halverson decided. The hospital receptionist would no doubt have told him if the plague was in any way involved with Dans hospitalization. But, then again, how long could America go before being invaded by the plague?

As of this day the germ or virus or whatever it was that was causing the plague remained unidentified, Halverson knew. Without determining a source for the plague, scientists could not even begin to discover a cure or vaccination.

It looked even smoggier than usual over LA, noted Halverson, glancing out his port window. Impenetrable fuscous clouds of smog mantled the entire landscape below him. What landscape? he wondered. He could be flying over the ocean for all he knew.

The jet suddenly bucked wildly up and down. Halverson grabbed ahold of his armrests. Luckily, he had his seat belt fastened. He dug his fingers into the vinyl-covered metal supports.

The jet began jerking back and forth. The rocking motion threw Halversons head against the fuselage near the window to his left. He blacked out with the impact of his heads collision with the fuselage. He had no idea how long he was out. The next thing he knew he heard a voice.

Ladies and gentlemen, please keep your seat belts fastened as we continue our approach to LAX, announced the pilot ever the loudspeaker with a Texas drawl. Were running into a little turbulence here. It should be over momentarily. Thank you.

The jet bucked again. This time worse than before. Halverson felt his seat belt ripping into his hips. He couldnt wait to get this flight over with.

The flight had been smooth as silk for over five hoursup until now, that is. Go figure, decided Halverson.

He still could not see anything outside the window other than the brownish yellow haze of the smog. He had never seen smog this thick in LA. He could not even see the signature high white arches of the spaceship-shaped restaurant the Encounter at LAX. He could always see those arches whenever he landed here.

That was strange, he decided, feeling the movement of the plane. It felt like the plane was ascending again. Not SOP, that was for sure.

Folks, said the pilot, therell be a slight delay due to wind shear. Were gonna circle around again and land. Please bear with us.

Halverson could see the Pacific Ocean coming into view as he felt the plane banking. The visibility was better here, but he still could not make out the coastline.

Is this normal? asked the twentysomething passenger sitting next to Halverson.

Its a first for me, answered Halverson. And Ive flown here a lot.

An expression of worry crossed the young mans unlined face. Sighing, he squinted out the window beside Halverson. The young man cleaned his spectacles with a handkerchief.

Dont be alarmed, the pilots voice boomed over the loudspeaker. Our communication with the control tower is out. Well be landing using our radar, without the air traffic controllers help.

Sweat was beading over the young mans upper lip.

Halverson could not blame him.

This doesnt sound normal, said the young man.

I can land this baby in my sleep, the pilot assured the passengers as if reading their minds. Just keep your seat belts buckled, sit back, and relax.

Halverson did not like the looks of this. One aborted landing and communication with the control tower down. Still, the pilot had assured them everything was under control.

As one of the flight attendants walked by, the young man buttonholed her. Maybe we should land somewhere else. At John Wayne Airport or somewhere.

The Hispanic stewardess leaned toward him. She unleashed a wide smile at him. No need for concern. You heard what our pilot said. Just sit back and relax.

She had big liquid black eyes that were radiant with her smile, Halverson couldnt help but notice.

The young man withdrew a cell phone from his trouser pocket.

The stewardess shook her head. No. You cant use your cell till after we land.

Why not?

Itll interfere with the planes radar. Were flying blind. All we can count on to guide us now when we land is our radar.

I need to call my girlfriend and tell her well be late.

You need to put that away, sir.

Halverson heard rumblings among the other passengers voicing their concerns.

The stewardess addressed the passengers. Please be patient. Well be landing shortly. Thank you.

The young man massaged his forehead.

This is insane, he muttered. We cant even see where were going. How can we fucking land?

Thats why we have radar, the stewardess told him.

Halverson glanced out the window. His neighbor followed suit.

Whats with all the smog? asked the young man. Ive never seen it this bad.