The Ebola Wall Read Online Free PDF Page A

wouldn’t have made any difference.
    The concrete cylinder was six feet in diameter, the inside tightly packed with bags of nitrogen fertilizer and other accelerants. It came to rest against the overpass’s primary support just as Havoc’s tracks began to move.
    Three hundred meters inside the wall, a single man watched the pipe roll straight and true. Hidden from the military’s fancy thermal imagers by a mess of heavy, wool blankets and a thick layer of mud, the sole observer pressed the button on a device originally built to control a child’s remote control toy. At the same moment, he dove for a nearby shallow trench.
    The explosion shook the ground for over four miles, its fireball of white and red flame visible for almost the same distance.
    The section of bridge immediately under Havoc was thrown over 100 feet into the air, the blast wave flinging the reinforced concrete deck like an autumn leaf blown from a tree. Havoc slammed into the earth a few moments later, the jarring impact crushing bone and flesh. Captain Norse’s world went black.
     

Chapter 2
     
    Huddled on a rooftop over a mile away, Colonel Jack Taylor, USMC, retired, lowered his own pair of binoculars. The 56-year-old career military man turned to an associate and with a grimace ordered, “Signal for phase two.”
    A moment later the Texas sky was again split by a brilliant white light. As the flare’s illumination raced skyward, the subordinate noticed his commander’s scowl. “Everything okay, Colonel?”
    The older man nodded, the brow under his nearly-shaved head wrinkling at the question. “I thought it would feel good to hit those son-of-a-bitches,” he grumbled. “After everything they’ve done to us and this city, I had hopes of revenge healing my soul. I, of all people, should have known better. Killing is killing. It doesn’t matter if it’s Muslim insurgents or American jailers, taking human life is never a positive experience. I’ll be fine, Major. You just worry about those busses.”
    Taylor raised his optic again, his attention just east of where they’d detonated the bomb. A sly smile crossed his face as he watched the military units closest to exit 4 react, their wheels and tracks rolling to assist injured comrades – and plug a hole in the wall. “They’re consistent and predictable,” he commented. “Following orders just as we anticipated.”
    At the same time, four school busses appeared from behind a nearby strip center, each of the transports fully loaded with citizens wanting nothing more than to escape the hell-hole of Houston, Texas. The colonel watched the small convoy’s progress, amazed at the amount of luggage secured to the top of each unit with ropes, bungee cords, and tarps.
    The drivers had been well coached, bumping and jolting along a direct line toward what was now a huge gap in the wall.
    The newly created opening was a result of the nearby Stryker and Abrams units leaving their positions, scrambling to aid the victims of the giant pipe bomb. Colonel Taylor had warned the escapees that they would have less than five minutes to breach the gap and disappear into the countryside before the army could respond. Each and every individual on those buses knew the military would shoot them on sight once they were near the Grand Parkway.
    The four transports were filled with specially selected and trained volunteers. Taylor had spoken with each individually and was blunt about their odds. Death was likely, either staying put, or trying to break free. Neither option held much chance for collecting social security.
    The thought brought him back to the job at hand. The first bus was just unloading, the desperate passengers tugging bundles, backpacks, and small suitcases from the roof. Others merely ran for the interstate as fast as their legs would carry them.
    Taylor watched the exodus for a moment and then let his gaze drift skyward, his trained eye seeking what he knew would be the real danger – the