RIPPED ROAD: Book 1

Sgt Chris WARD leads the Special Forward Intelligence Unit. The infected are coming north this year as the spring weather warms. The government has an idea how to stop them, Chris's mind may be slipping. The line between right and wrong is blurring. But these are dark days. Where survival is superseding orders. Things are about to get messy.PROLOGUEThere will be no happy ending here, Chris thought. He stood in front of the mirror in the grey stone bathroom. He stared at himself without really seeing. Standing naked, still wet from the tub. He had lost weight. Still muscular, but more lean now. Short cropped black hair, and full of the tattoos of his youth. Thirty-six going on eighty-five he thought. He had done more damage to his body than most men in five lifetimes. The woman screaming outside would not stop. He had been hearing the succession of claymores exploding outside for the last hour. An old familiar sound, like an old friend still talking to him. Chris looked at the tub still half full with hazy eyes. Half drunk, half high he lit another cigarette. The tub was dirty with a mix of mud and blood. He had prepared for this day for a year. There was no need to panic. Everything was taken care of. The woman screaming outside was starting to give him a headache though. KERR would have to replace the claymores tomorrow. Then he remembered KERR was dead. How could he fucking forget? Chris put out his cigarette in the toilet and pulled up his jeans not bothering with underwear. He slid his Glock into the back of his pants and grabbed his M4. As he walked the pistol felt cold, it was hot tonight and the city was on fire. Dark had rolled in a long time ago, and there was no wind, just the screams of the city. Chris walked outside the compound and slowly climbed the watchtower with the M4 on his bare back. As he climbed he wondered if he was going to kill the woman to put her out of her misery or to stop his headache. Today it did not really matter.

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