Dead Team Alpha: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller Read Free

forward and they all study the scuffmarks on the wall. Chinn looks up and sees the ventilation grate above them at the top of the wall. He taps Morrissey on the shoulder and the man bends over, his hands clasped, and gives Chinn a boost up.
    The ventilation shaft is nothing but green glowing darkness and Chinn struggles to see more than a couple feet, even with the NVGs on. After a good minute, he shakes his head and Morrissey lowers him to the floor. They each study the ground, but can’t see any more marks. Without saying anything, they move on to the LF in order to finish their sweep. Morrissey hangs back just a second to make a note of the discovery on his clipboard, then tucks it into his pack and shoulders his carbine, catching up quickly to his Team Mates.
     
    ***
     
    The flash of lightning and ensuing thunderclap are considerably closer than Lazzar is expecting, causing her to jump. If her finger hadn’t been resting along the trigger guard, she would have squeezed off a couple of rounds. She laughs to herself, glad none of her Mates saw her little scare, and steps outside into the blowing wind. A light rain has started and the cool mist wets her skin. Closing her eyes, and opening her mouth, she welcomes the fresh water.
    Another flash and clap go off and Lazzar opens her eyes, feeling refreshed. The daylight is completely gone and the barren landscape about her is cloaked in inky darkness. The storm is picking up and the rain goes from refreshing mist to needling drops in seconds. Lazzar begins to back up to the hatch when a third flash lights up the land.
    Her carbine is at her shoulder instantly and she drops to one knee as she sees an illuminated figure before her for just a split second. The lightning has messed with her vision and she turns her head slightly to the side, letting her stronger peripheral vision study the area. She goes over the image in her mind, looking for clues as to what she’s dealing with. It held itself upright with a straight back, so not a Z. It also wasn’t moving towards her, further proof it isn’t a flesh-hungry zombie. It also hasn’t come screaming at her with some improvised weapon, which means not a crazy or wild wasteland trash. It made itself known, instead of the normal sneak attack nature of a cannibal.
    So what or who is it?
    Lazzar stands and slowly walks her way back to the silo hatch. Her back bumps up against the side of the hill and she eases herself into the opening. The lightning flashes once more and the area in front of her is empty, no sign of the phantom form. Being a ten year veteran Mate, Lazzar knows better than to think she made it all up in her head. She saw something, that’s for sure.
    Risking a quick glance, Lazzar looks behind her and notes her position to the hatch. The sky above her booms with thunder just as another lightning flash fills her sight.
    She has no time to scream before the blade pierces her throat. The sounds she makes as she collapses to the wet ground are nothing but surprised gurgles from choking on her own blood. The blade is yanked back and is flicked to the side, sending splatters of blood mixing with the fresh rainwater.
    Lazzar looks up at her attacker and the final thoughts that go through her head are, “What’s wrong with its face?” Then the life leaks out of her and her eyes glaze over as her last breath wheezes from between her bloody lips.
     
    ***
     
    Folding his legs under him, and careful that his knees don’t bump the beeswax candles that surround the large map, Cook grabs a seat next to TL Mills on the floor.
    “Spill it,” Cook says.
    “Huh?” TL Mills asks, not taking his eyes off the paper before him. “Spill what?”
    “Whatever it is you aren’t telling the team,” Cook says. “How long have I been a Runner with STA?”
    “Long time,” TL Mills replies.
    “And how long have we known each other?” Cook asks.
    “A lot longer,” TL Mills says.
    “So safe to say I know your moods,” Cook