The older couple sat at the next table with the hysterical lady. Well, she wasn’t really hysterical anymore. More like catatonic. Jack felt sorry for her. The nurse from the bus was sitting with them too. She was covered in that soldier’s blood...
Ern.
Right. That was the old man’s name. He was the one that had acted like everything was fine, back on the bus. Jack could tell that he was just as scared as the rest though. False bravado, they call that.
The rich couple sat at a table behind them. The husband was average looking and easily ignored. His wife though...
Man, she is hot!
Jack’s eyes traveled across her features. Her clothes fit her tightly in all the right places.
So that’s what they call a trophy wife. Jack figured as he checked her out.
The Hispanic girl: Maria, sat at the same table. Jack had seen the rich woman trying to talk to Maria. The young girl did not show interest in talking, so that ended awkwardly.
The Chinese guy with the hammers was the only one not sitting.
This dude is a fucking rebel.
He stood off to the side, with his feet slightly apart and his weight on the balls of his feet. Jack thought he looked ready to kick some more ass. He caught Jack looking at him and their eyes locked for a moment. It was very intimidating. This guy’s expression was as if it was made of stone, revealing no emotion. After a couple of seconds, he unexpectedly winked, and Jack quickly looked away.
This guy is bad ass!
Well away from everybody sat the young woman in the track suit. She drank from her water bottle in small, quick sips. She looked more annoyed than scared. Jack studied her features for a couple of seconds.
She is cute! Ah forget it Jack. Out of your league.
The British soldier – She had introduced herself as Emily earlier in the day – made her way into the lunchroom and sat down at the table with the rich couple. She was a short, stocky thing. She wore her dirty blonde hair in a simple ponytail, and had sharp features offset by a somewhat square jaw. She was friendly enough though and her English accent was something that immediately disarmed others. And she was one hell of a bus driver!
Jack watched as another soldier quickly brought her a water bottle. She fumbled with the cap for a bit and drank with evident thirst.
Everybody sat in relative silence for a minute. Some people spoke in low voices, while others darted looks at each other just like Jack had, sizing each other up.
The silence became absolute when an officer walked in, flanked by two of his men. Behind them followed Garcia, Brown and Collins. The two soldiers attending to the civilians snapped to. The officer continued through the lunchroom with the sure steps of a commander. He gestured for his men to be at ease with a half wave of his hand as he moved.
All eyes were on him as he stepped up onto the low stage. The rest of the soldiers stood off to the side and stood at ease.
The man cleared his throat once. A quick ‘Uh-hem’. Then he started to speak.
“My name is Captain Hank Matheson. I’m in charge of B rifle company, 1st Battalion, of the newly formed Sooners Brigade.”
Jack took a closer look at Captain Matheson. The man had deep creases in his leathery but clean-shaven face, and penetrating light blue eyes. Everything about him projected a quiet confidence. And power. A look that clearly stated; ‘do not fuck with me’. His gravelly voice only added to the persona.
“I have a lot to tell you, and not much time to do it – so I ask that you wait with any questions until I am done speaking.” This was a command, not a request and everybody knew it.
“First things first. This city’s safe zone has fallen.” Shocked noises from several people were quickly quieted down by those intense blue eyes.
“We now understand that the syndrome acted slower in some than in others. People that were symptom free were allowed into the safe zone, only to develop symptoms later. Apparently, the safe zone fell when zombies were detected inside the fences and civilians panicked to get out. The gate or fence was compromised, which allowed the undead gathered outside to stream into the camp. The security forces were overwhelmed, and the camp fell.” The Captain grimaced, clearly angered by these developments.
“The majority of our forces are currently engaged in another operation. So, we can’t even send any troops to this location, to extract any people trapped in the camp.” He raised his hand to scratch his nose. “It’s a mess, folks. We don’t expect a lot of survivors.”
He continued immediately, not allowing anybody to comment.
“Which brings us here. This location has been chosen as one of the ‘survival supply drop stations’ by our superiors. The original intent was to leave this school uninhabited. Messages would be sent to survivors in the coming weeks, revealing this and other locations.”
“What is a survival supply drop station, you may ask.” With a quick hand gesture, he pointed out the door of the lunchroom. “In the gym of this school, you will find supplies. These supplies include the tools that you will need to make it through these times, along with enough food to last fifty adults for three months.”
Matheson frowned.
“I advise you to get organized. Take inventory of the supplies and try to ration to the best
