Read Zombie Fever: Outbreak for Free Online Page B

and over our windscreen. The teksi picked up speed to around forty kilometers per hour. Jamie gripped the wheel, the whites of her knuckles bright against her caramel skin.
    Felix had his lens pointed right in my face. If there was too much silence, all of this action would be left out of the show. I had to say something, “This cabby better know the way or we’re sunk before we’ve even begun to sail.” It was a bit cliché, but I knew only little sound bites of conversation and action were all that would be spliced into the one hour shows. I had to make the best of it. Besides, it was better than going, ‘Uh, uh, go’ or something lame during what could be a suspenseful sequence of shots showcasing the dynamics between the two of girly girls.
    We hadn’t seen any of the other cars since exiting J1. More than likely they had tried to avoid the city streets and stay on the much faster expressways. Most of them had smuggled in maps, so they were probably nearing the pit stop soon.
    We continued to follow the teksi in and out of small side streets and alleyways. Jamie began to worry that we were lost. While I tried to remain positive, I was beginning to suspect the same thing.
    We came along a long stretch of road construction. It looked as if they were burying an irrigation ditch alongside the pavement. Traffic had slowed to a crawl as people craned their necks to see what was causing the slow down ahead. I rolled down the window to take a look for myself, dust from the construction sticking to my sweaty forehead. Felix did the same, poking the camera out of the back window to expertly capture both the traffic snarl caused by the commotion on the shoulder of the road ahead and my facial reactions all within the frame.
    There were a half dozen or so road workers, some with shovels and others with large picks standing in a huddle off the side of the road. From what I could see none of the workers seemed interested in road construction. They were grouped together in a semi-circle next to the large irrigation trench staring at something on the ground mere centimeters away from the line of cars inching by. I didn’t understand why road workers in their dirt encrusted orange jumpsuits standing in a semi-circle could cause a traffic jam until I saw a pale, filthy, bare arm of what could only be a very fat man slowly raise up and out of the ditch into the air, fingers clawing into the sky.
    One of the workers lifted his shovel and began pounding its flat surface into what I assumed was the head of the fat man just below my sightline. Now both arms were raised high into the air trembling in reverberations from the body convulsing on the ground. The other road workers stood there and silently watched as their co-worker put the man out of his misery.
    As our rally car pulled up next to the group, I could hear the wet, sloppy sound, again and again as the shovel continued to pound the man’s head, a greenish goopy jam, the color of infection, now coating the shovel head.
    The arms jerked twice more and sunk back down out of view.
    Our car was nearly on top of the men in orange jump suits. Some dust from the construction got into Jamie’s nose and she sneezed and jerked the wheel slightly to the right accidentally bumping the closest worker with our side mirror. You should have seen the surprised look on his face. He stumbled, almost regained his balance and then grabbed onto one of his colleagues to avoid falling into the ditch. But to no avail. Like dominoes, the group of construction workers lost their footing as each one of them clutched onto the nearest co-worker for support and fell into a pile in the ditch, right on top of the bloated man’s carcass. I heard more sloppy sounds, like water balloons popping on shag carpet. Then I heard curses and yelps as the men leapt back out of the hole, arms, knees, chests and some faces covered in the greenish-yellow gloop. The look in their eyes screamed of terror.
    As we continued on,