Blood Alley by T.F. Hanson Page B

Frederick Williamson, a doctor from the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta who accidentally released the disease that turned people into zombies, on the world.
    But what Romulus could not understand was why they had to be just as thorough with the people who wanted to leave. For Christ sakes, they were trying to leave.
    Romulus stamped his boots on the asphalt to get the blood flowing as he waited in line, his feet were freezing. If he had known the wait was going to take this long, he would have worn an extra pair of socks.
    AJ sat up next to him sensing his master’s frustration. The beagle was always at Romulus’s side no matter where he went. AJ and Romulus had been constant companions since Romulus first found the beagle when he was only a puppy in the train station underneath Old Atlanta over three years ago. AJ was now considered one of the best zombie tracking dogs in what used to be the Southeastern part of the United States.
    Romulus was anxious to get out of town; the trip to New Atlanta had been a profitable outing. He had received payment for his last job after he had provided proof of the kill and he was lucky enough to have picked up a new contract. The only problem with the new job, he was not the only zombie hunter hired for the contract. His rivals, the Stratos brothers, had also been hired for the job. Romulus wasn’t worried about the brothers beating him out of the contract. In fact, the brothers were almost borderline incompetent. No, what had Romulus so pissed off was the fact the Stratos brothers had a day’s head start on him.
    Romulus peered up at the dark sky, filled with heavy snow clouds and watched a lazy hawk turning slow circles. He envied the bird its freedom, as he was stuck down on earth, waiting for some petty officials to get about their business. The hawk circled around in the sky for a few moments longer then dived down behind the outer walls beyond Romulus’s sight. He hoped the bird had caught something to eat.
    “Next,” the voice called out interrupting his thoughts. “Romulus Pike, the Zombie Hunter. Leaving town I see.”
    “Captain Walters, always the Master of the Obvious,” Romulus replied as he stepped up to the gate.
    “Ah Pike, it is always so good to see you leave New Atlanta. I hope you won’t be coming back anytime soon.”
    Captain Walters and Romulus had been at odds for some time now, ever since the Captain had found Romulus talking with his wife at a bar one night. Romulus had only been polite and was looking for good conversation that evening, but the Captain had assumed the worse.
    “Only if your wife invites me back sooner, my Dear Captain,” he replied. He noted with a slight smile, the distress his comment made on the man.
    “If you go near her again,” the man’s voice was drowned out as the sirens in the city began to wail.
    Romulus watched with a sinking feeling as the gates to the city slammed shut at the sound of the sirens, sealing him in the city, behind its walls.
    Before the Apocalypse, the sirens had been used to notify the populous of Atlanta when a bad lightning storm was approaching and perhaps it was a better time to stay indoors. Now however, the sirens were not used for anything as mundane as a lightning storm. The sirens now sounded for only one thing, a zombie attack. Somewhere within the streets of New Atlanta, one or more of the infected were loose.
    “Everyone get back,” the guards were shouting. “Go back to your homes or someplace safe.”
    “Well Pike, I guess that means you will be staying with us a little longer,” Captain Walters smirked.
    “I guess it does. Which way is your house?”
    The Captain dropped his hand to the revolver sitting on his hip and Romulus immediately regretted provoking the man any further. “Listen, Pete,” Romulus said dropping into familiarity with the Captain. “Nothing happened with your wife. We were just talking about how things were before it all went to hell. You have a really