Dead Pulse by A. M. Esmonde Page B

waiting soldiers.
    Pushing Hardy’s helping hand from his nose Frank sat in his jeep avoiding eye contact with the approaching women.
    Exhausted, they climbed onto the back of an awaiting tank. The heavy tank steadily headed towards the orange skyline and like a mirage, they disappeared into the rising sun…
     
    Extract 4.0
    J. Reed. 20092702/20022802
     
    In contrast to strategic warheads, as mentioned in VEP 11/01 which can level cities and smaller short-range tactical nuclear arms designed to wipe out battlefield forces. It is likely to maximize a barrage of infinitesimal neutrons that could zip through tanks, buildings and other structures. It should destroy the central nervous system of the ‘enemy’ (The Dead).
    Provided that the weapon was not used in a thunderstorm, no fallout effects would occur from the use of bomb according to J. M. James manual and my notes: VEP 11/03, as the combination of 200m burst altitude and low yield prevents fallout in addition to significant thermal and blast effects. The reduction in damage within the target area is a major advantage of such a weapon to deter mass destruction.
    In several meetings with Military personnel it has been established that 77 can be deployed via tanks or anti-tank missile launchers . I would advise not waste more precious time trying to build a weak coalition of those nations that will support 77 in name only.  
    It is the only weapon in history that actually may benefit humanity.
     
    This is my final report.
     
    Jayne Reed.
     
     
     
    PART FIVE: THE COMPOUND
    Many months had passed since the school’s destruction and Samuel’s demise. For many a distant memory lost on the rotting autumn leaves. After Jayne’s work was completed she had been escorted to a safer place, Marshal charged with her protection much to his protest and to his annoyance replaced by Thomas Hardy.
     
    The stench of death and decay filled the seasoned air. The dead in various stages of decomposition, slowed by the harsh winter’s air, now pushed against the tall metal barrier. The tops of the pointed vertical poles were deadly to anyone attempting to trespass. Fortunately, the dead didn’t appear to have the co-ordination to attempt climbing.
    The compound consisted of several metal cabins and the crematorium, close by stood a grey, five-storey purpose built building. The cargo planes and truckloads of dead bodies had ceased. The body loading team now destroyed the surplus of dead that surrounded them, those that came from the dark attracted by the activity of the living.
    Its occupants had not heard from any official administrator in quite some time, they continued their work in rounding up and destroying the abundance of bodies.
    Quaid Stockwell stood watching them from the safety of the perimeter fence. Hair scraped back in a ponytail, a dark T-shirt, trousers and boots. With one hand on his stubble-covered chin, he pointed his fingers making a gun shape, pretending to shoot at the hordes of the dead like a child playing war. As a figure approached, he squinted in the dimming light just able to make out her dark silhouette.
    “Come inside Quaid, you’re going to freeze,” said Jayne. The trauma of recent events had made her gaunt, her white jumper and black overcoat drowned her now petite figure.
    “If they are out there fighting for us, there must be hope. They said that the living can reclaim the world,” Quaid turned to Jayne and looked into her sad eyes, partly obscured by her hair.
    “I heard it too Quaid, but that was ages ago. They also said that they would come and get us. Karen and Hardy’s men were meant to come back and get me. Save us. We’ve heard nothing since and it’s been a long and harsh winter. They’re probably dead. We just have to get on with our lives the way they are. Come inside.” She tugged at his arm.
    They made their way from the roof and walked down to the canteen; Jayne stopping to check the canteen-cleaning rota, while Quaid made