The Ebola Wall Read Online Free PDF

gunships.
    “See anything, Colonel?” the major asked, well aware of what his commander was seeking.
    “No, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. We wouldn’t be able to see them at night. They’re coming though, that much is assured. Let’s just hope our people can scatter enough that they don’t get them all.”
    The second bus had arrived, the scene of hustling humanity repeating.
    The colonel knew some of the passengers had friends and family waiting on the other side. Two sisters, attending the University of Houston, were expecting their father to be hidden in the adjoining woods. According to the older sibling, their pop had been practically insane since being cut off from his daughters and was willing to risk Ebola, the U.S. Army, and anything else life threw in his path.
    The third bus was disgorging its human cargo when the blinking lights of an aircraft appeared in the distant sky. “They’re not even bothering to fly dark,” the ex-officer noted. “How audacious.”
    People from the fourth bus had now joined the stream of desperate humanity scurrying for the wall. In the darkness, the colonel couldn’t tell how many were left on his side of the barrier. He hoped it wasn’t many.
    In they came, swooping across the treetops at over 100 mph, the wasp-like outline of the Apache gunships clear in the moonlit sky. Taylor knew the killing potential of the warbirds, their infrared systems making them just as lethal at night as in the day.
    The men observing the escape held their breath, waiting on the hell and fury they knew the helicopters would unleash on the frail, unprotected human bodies scrambling through the fields and woods beyond.
    “Here it comes,” someone mumbled as the first gunship pulled up to hover.
    “May God have mercy on their souls,” someone else added.
    But the bird of prey didn’t fire, instead it continued on over the top of the hustling civilians, banking hard above the treetops as if to make a second pass.
    “That was odd,” the major whispered. “Mercy?”
    “No,” Taylor answered. “Someone didn’t give them permission to shoot, or they aren’t sure of their target. We just caught a huge break.”
    The second gunship approached, but it was already too late. The last stragglers had managed to cross the freeway’s pavement and were now beyond the reach of the military’s shoot-to-kill orders. They still had to evade capture, but the chances of an instant death had greatly diminished.
    A resounding cheer arose into the Texas night, all of the men gathered to watch the escape celebrating their victory. After a hardy round of backslapping, high-fiving, and congratulations, a few of the younger men began to chant, “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!” Soon everyone joined in, the cadence as contagious as Ebola-B.
    Colonel Taylor didn’t feel the euphoria, his mind still burdened with command. “Let’s hope our amphibious group has the same success,” he whispered.

     
    The U.S. Coast Guard and Navy were responsible for the seaside section of the quarantine. While a small fleet of patrol boats, corvettes, and even a destroyer were commonly seen plying the waters of the Houston Ship Channel, most of the colonel’s experts believed the “Sea-wall” was maintained by patrolling aircraft.
    In the early days of the Q, reports of people trying to escape via waterborne machines were common. According to the locals interviewed, everything from jetskis to hefty yachts had tried to run the blockade. Those attempts always resulted in bright flashes of light on the horizon, quickly followed by thunder-like boom of explosions rolling across the water.
    Often, large debris fields would wash up onshore a few days later. It wasn’t uncommon for bodies to be found in the flotsam, most identified simply as fugitives who’d attempted to run the gauntlet of naval firepower.
    During the planning phases of the Great Escape, the Sea-wall had been a seemingly unsolvable