Read The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge) for Free Online Page B

a paper cup.
I manage a smile as I take it from him, swallowing its contents in record time.
    “What happened?” I ask no
one in particular.
    “You choked,” Darren
answers, bluntly. “That’s what happened. You shot the first square in the face,
but the other two? Fuck knows what happened.”
    “Lay the hell off her,
Da,” Andrew interrupts. “This was her first time. What did you think would happen? She’s not trained in this yet. Everyone chokes.”
    “Not me,” he replies. “I
didn’t choke.”
    “Yeah, but you knew what
you were getting yourself into. She didn’t. No one told her what she was doing.
She’s barely had enough gun training, and we just threw her into the deep end.
It’s not bloody fair.”
    “Look, it’s better that
way,” Roger says. “It lets us know what kind of a Cleaner she’ll be—one that
reacts quickly to danger, or one that falls apart after the first scare. I won’t
have her endangering the lives our men. Not while I’m in charge.”
    “That’s bullshit, Roger!”
Andrew snaps. “And you know it!”
    “Watch your mouth, Andrew!
Don’t forget who you’re talking to. This is a standard test, and since last
year it’s standard practise that anyone training for the job must be able to
cope with any type of attack. It’s the rules. I didn’t make them. You know that
as well as I do.”
    “Look, guys,” Darren steps
in, “let’s all just calm down now. She failed the test, and that’s that.” He turns
his attention to me. “I’m sorry, Cath. I’m sure you’re a lovely person, but
it’s over. This job is too dangerous to have someone who freezes at the first
sign of trouble. It’s not only dangerous for you, but for the lives of the
other Cleaners.”
    My heart sinks. I want to
stand up for myself, to fight my corner, but I have nothing. Nothing at all.
They’re right. I’m not fit to work here. Passing some fitness test has nothing
to do with the job. This is the job. This is the real test. And I
failed. Miserably . “It’s all right,” I say, my voice low, deflated. “I
understand. I fucked up. I’m sorry. I don’t know why. I thought I could do it,
but I just froze. Maybe if I could have a few more tries. You know, just a
little more practise.”
    Roger shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, Cath, that’s it. There’s no second chances. This is elimination
training. One strike and you’re out.”
    If my nerves weren’t
shattered, if my body wasn’t drained of any sort of spark, I might muster up
the strength to punch the bald bastard in the nose, tell him where he can stick
his stupid job.
    But he’s right. And he
doesn’t deserve it.
    The only person who needs
a punch is me.
    Roger offers his hand for
me to shake it. “Unlucky, Cath. Better luck next time, yeah?”
    I pause for a moment, but
then reluctantly shake his gloved hand. “Okay, Roger. Thanks for the
opportunity.”
    “No problem. Pop off your
suit and I’ll meet you in the staff room.”
    Andrew looks seething, so
I smile thinly and give him one of my ‘don’t worry about it’ shrugs. I then
start to remove my suit.
    The biggest surprise today
wasn’t the rancid Necs coming at me, nor was it the fact that I failed—there
was always a chance that I wouldn’t make the cut. The biggest shock is the fact
that I haven’t broken down in tears. Not one.
    They’ll probably come
later.

6
     
    It’s
8:17 p.m.
    I put my phone on silent
the moment I left HQ. Didn’t want to speak to any friends. All I’ve done since
coming home is tell my parents the news of my failure, and listen to them
struggle to find nice ways to say I told you so . But in the end, no
matter how they dress it up, no matter how many sympathetic smiles I get, the
bottom line is: they were right. Everyone was right. Everyone but me. Don’t
know what I was thinking.
    I thought shooting one of
those Necs would have been the highlight of the day, the highlight of the
training. My life . Not some stupid sack-pulling