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All infected, all dying. None of them dead yet.
Another cop, a woman, had tried to pull him back inside. Rollins could tell from her body language that she was screaming and fighting to pull the male officer to safety. However another man, a white man, dragged her away and forced her inside the school.
Two of the uninfected getting clear.
Leaving the others outside.
Leaving them to die.
The cop had stood his ground and as the zombies closed around him, he fired and fired and fired. It was the most heroic thing Hap Rollins had ever seen in twelve years as a combat vet.
The man had to know that there was no hope.
None.
So why did he fight?
The answer huddled behind him against the now closed door to the Stebbins Little School. A little girl. Other little kids.
The cop fought like a wild man to keep them safe from the monsters. To make sure that their last memory was not of being consumed. To protect them from that while he waited for the big black insects in the sky to end it all with bullets.
Rollins had been in the best position to fire on the black cop.
And the kids.
The orders came.
The killing began.
The dying began.
And the tears.
Now the infected were dead. All of them. The dying and the risen dead. All of them littered on the pavement and splashed against the walls of the school. Against the building designated as the town emergency shelter.
Rollins was not a deeply educated man, but he understood the concepts of irony and farce.
And tragedy.
He wanted to look away from the torn body of the cop and the smaller rag doll figure of the little girl. Wanted to.
Couldn’t.
On some level Sergeant Rollins felt that it would have been a sinful thing to do. Disrespectful.
Then the helicopter began moving, rising and turning, pulling him away from the evidence of such hurt and harm. As it went, Hap Rollins hung his head and prayed to a God he was absolutely certain had turned His back on this world.
CHAPTER FOUR
PENNSYLVANIA NATIONAL GUARD FIELD COMMAND POST
INSIDE STEBBINS COUNTY
Major General Simeon Zetter watched the live feeds on the screens of four laptops set side by side on the big table. Around him the other officers under his command watched in utter silence. No one spoke. All Zetter could hear was the tinny sound of helicopter rotors from the laptop speakers and the labored exhalations of the men and women around him. Everyone was panting as if they’d all run up a steep hill even though all they had done was watch.
The voice of a Black Hawk pilot suddenly cut through the stillness.
“Zero movement,” he said. “Spotters observe zero movement on all sides of the target.”
