The Most Uncommon Cold I - Life in the Time of Zombies Read Online Free PDF Page B

the public welfare and preventing possible panic.”  The colonel was speaking with the tone of someone who was used to having his words followed without question.
         Uncharacteristically, I bit my tongue and did the intelligent thing.  “Colonel, I apologize for having wasted your time.  The person that I was supposed to interview didn’t show up, and I didn’t see anything that would merit space in the paper.” 
         The colonel nodded and smiled as if very tired.  “Well then, I suppose there is no reason not to send you on your way.”  He looked at me as if making a final evaluation before continuing, “However, we will be monitoring your newspaper for any hint of this incident.”  His chuckle did not have a pleasant sound. 
         “You don ’t have to worry about that, Colonel.  I don’t know enough to imply or hint at anything,” I assured him and turned toward sentry at the front partition. 
         At my movement, the soldier started to approach me as he looked toward Granger for indication of what he should do. The colonel nodded and said, “Corporal Wilbur, escort Mr. Turner to his car.”
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
         Once I got out of the airport, I began to doubt the events of the morning. With a little time and distance, they began to take on the unreal quality of a movie seen in the distant past.  I suppose as a reporter I should have had a better grip on reality, but there you go. Considering some of the things that I had seen that morning, it was certainly reasonable to have a little doubt.  After all, having a half-eaten torso crawl after them is not something that most people experience in their lives. On top of that, I had received a not-so-subtle threat from the colonel.
         As I drove back across a nearly-empty Golden Gate Bridge, I considered what to do next. Nothing I had seen could be used in a story without someone to support the facts. That brought Jerry Clark to mind.  Tracking him down and paying a visit to his house to conduct the interview might be worth the time.
         I pulled into a rest area near the bridge just off Highway 101.  A few tourist buses were parked at the back of the vast parking lot while their passengers were making the obligatory tourist pilgrimage across the bridge. I had a wide choice of spots and took one near the restroom. 
         I checked my phone but saw no new messages.  I considered calling Carole at the Gazette again but decided against it.  Instead, I grabbed my laptop from the backseat.  I took it out its bag and set it on the passenger seat. The wireless Internet connection came up after a moment, and I entered “Jerry Clark” into the people search website.   Seconds later, a collection of 14 Jerry Clarks appeared. Fortunately, only one of these lived in Northern California. This Jerry Clark lived in San Rafael at 4127 Pickwick Drive.  I typed the address into the GPS navigator on top of the dashboard and was off to San Rafael. 
         The trip up Highway 101 was pretty uneventful aside from the unusually sparse traffic. I realize that I keep going on about the lack of cars on the road, but there were fewer cars out than I had ever seen at any time day or night. Anyway, the normally forty-five-minute-to-an-hour trip only took about twenty minutes.
         Pickwick Drive was a pleasant, quiet tree-lined street, and I was lucky enough to find a parking space not too far from an older two-story house with “4127” painted in black script on the curb.
         Like just about every place else I had been that day, the neighborhood seemed deserted.  No one was outside mowing the lawn or heading off to run errands.   I got out of the car and leaned against the passenger door for a minute looking at the house and neighborhood. It was quite a peaceful street with nice-looking houses.  I actually felt a twinge of jealousy at those being able to live in such a pleasant place. Bonnie and I