Dead Again Read Online Free PDF Page B

else to say.
    A guttural snarl suddenly arose from deep within her throat. Then it happened: she sat up, grabbed the doctor, and bit his forearm.
    He was so shocked he couldn’t even scream. Marcy Grey gnawed, tearing a chunk of flesh out of his arm.  
    She sat up. Her chest cavity was still opened, and blood and innards spilled out. She chewed on the flesh of the doctor, who pulled away his arm in disbelief. The nurse let out a blood-curdling shriek of absolute horror.
    The screen in the briefing room finally went black.
    Moore faced the room. “Get the picture?”
    The team was silent for a long moment.
    “How does it spread?” Peterson asked.
    “Through contact with infected blood,” Washington eagerly answers. “We know that if you’re bitten, within 24 hours you will be fully infected. It’s also possible that if you get their blood in your eyes or mouth, you may become infected as well. This is still an outstanding question.”
    “But that’s not the burning question, Dr. Washington,” Peterson snapped back.
    Dr. Washington looked at him. “Then perhaps you can enlighten us?”
    “The question is…are they alive, or are they dead?”
    “They are infected,” retorted Washington.
    “Fucking zombies if you ask me” Cash chimed in.
    “How can we cure what is not alive?” Sharon added.
    Washington gave them a smug, superior smile.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “We are dealing with an infection. Viral, most likely. Where there is an infection, there is at least, if not a cure for those who have already been infected, an inoculation for those who have not been. Get it?”
    Peterson spoke up: “We recover the information so that an inoculation, or cure, can be created?”
    “Yes, but all you worry about is recovery. We need Dr. Winthrop safe and sound.”
    “What makes you think Dr. Winthrop is still alive?” asked Peterson.     
    “We’re not sure, we pray,” Moore said, clearing his throat.
    He flipped a switch and a series of grids appeared on a projected map. As the images shifted, a blueprint of the ice-fox building compound came into view.
    “In addition to Dr. Winthrop, there is another primary target,” Moore pointed to a particular gird. “For security reasons, there is only one hard drive which contains the accumulation of all the research. There are fifty separate hard dives which contain the research in piecemeal. Fifty hard drives is out of the question. So we go for the primary—it’s referred to as ‘Darling.’
    “It is located here, on sub-level four. It is the central nervous system of the complex, and this is where Darling is seated. You will possess the security codes, you will manually unlock the system, you will establish a satellite uplink and we will download the information.”
    “Rumors are, sir, that satellite communication has become unreliable,” Armstrong chimed in, sounding concerned. “Non-existent in some places.”
    “You are correct, Sergeant,” Moore said, apparently approving of Armstrong’s insight. “Then we move to plan B.”
    “Which is?” Peterson asked.
    “Rough and tumble. You bring the packages back manually, and find a way to get your asses back here.”
    “Back where, sir?” inquired Angelo.
    “Back home, son, where your ass is seated now.”
    Moore changed the image. “It is important to know that though there are many scientists, if any are still alive, their recovery is not part the mission. Your mission is to recover Darling and Dr. Winthrop only.”
    The projection changed, flashing a picture of a white-bearded man: his hair was tasseled, unkempt and his glasses were crooked. He looked like a mad academic, the type of man who spent all his time thinking and neglected everything else.
    “This is Dr. Winthrop. He invented the ice-fox project.”
    The images changed in a slideshow, revealing a series of men and woman, apparently important scientists at the lab.
    “We are not to help the scientist, General?”