Christopher G Nuttall The Coward's Way of War (epub)

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.It was just another piece of red tape designed to make life difficult.The police vans had been designed in the wake of a series of increasingly bloody riots that had struck American – and European – cities during the global economic crisis.Al had always been impressed with them, for they were built to military standards and could resist small-arms fire and even some light antitank weapons.They were far too obvious for his tastes, but it had been pointed out to him that that might not be a bad thing for a police vehicle.The presence of a policeman nearby alone might deter crime.He glanced back at his men as they rode towards the soup kitchen, passing checkpoints and soldiers on guard duty, clutching their weapons nervously.New York itself seemed to hang on a knife-edge, a feeling Al hadn't felt since he'd last been in Baghdad, a sense that something was about to go spectacularly wrong.He checked his own weapons and then the injector gun he wore on his belt, loaded with vaccine.If all went well, they could inject hundreds of people over the next few hours.The soup kitchen had been set up in a parking lot and manned by a mixture of volunteers and emergency service personnel.Armed policemen guarded the perimeter, checking everyone who came in and out, disarming everyone who was carrying a weapon.There had been a suggestion that all guns should be permanently confiscated, at least until the crisis was over, but in a rare burst of common sense, the Governor had pointed out that that would just make the crisis worse.The ones who cared about the law would hand in their weapons; the ones who cared nothing for the law would hang on to theirs.and they were the ones to worry about.Still, no one apart from the police took a weapon inside the soup kitchen.The last thing they needed was a riot that might get out of hand.Al flinched as he took in the UV lights, positioned around the soup kitchen and shining in everywhere.It reminded him of the night when he’d stumbled upon the first known victim of Henderson’s Disease, the night that had claimed his rookie’s life.The UV lights killed the disease in the air before it could spread from a carrier to an uninfected person, yet Al didn't quite trust them.It all seemed too flimsy to him.“Sergeant,” the supervisor said.She – her nametag read CINDY – looked alarmingly like a cheerleader, but the briefing notes had stated that she’d volunteered for emergency training and had been operating the soup kitchen for the last two weeks.“We’re nearly ready to start serving food.What can we do for you?”Al explained briefly, much to her surprise.“I cannot do that,” Cindy said, once he’d finished.“I need to feed everyone.”“And you will, once they’re vaccinated,” Al countered.He was in no mood for an argument.Cindy reminded him far too much of one of his ex-girlfriends, a girl who had worried incessantly about her weight.Eventually, he’d dumped her and she’d married the local football jock.The last he’d heard was that it hadn’t been a happy marriage.“Everyone who comes in to get food from the government has to be vaccinated.”He cast a look over the steaming caldrons as his team deployed, getting into position.True to its name, there was a bubbling caldron of soup waiting for the hungry citizens, but there were also bowls of stew and curry, even a considerable amount of bread and cheese.Quite a number of supermarkets had been looted before the NYPD had managed to get guards on them, but the looters had left behind a surprising amount of foodstuffs, if only because they hadn't realised what they could do with them.A couple of dozen workers had managed to get the kitchen up and running, sharing the tasks and doing what they could to help their fellow citizens.They’d all been vaccinated, of course.It wasn't long before the first people appeared at the end of the street, walking down towards the cops.Al had seen it before, but it still shocked him; they looked more like Third World natives than American citizens.Many were thin and drawn; others glanced around as if they expected to be attacked at any moment, despite the presence of the armed policemen.A handful were even staring at the policemen, as if they feared that the policemen would attack them, or worse.Al understood what he was seeing, even though he didn't want to admit it; the social glue that had kept New York City together was melting fast.A group of swaggering young men – gang members, he was morbidly certain – appeared at the other end, unable or unwilling to conceal their attitude.The city was feeding its enemies.“I need to see your vaccination certificate,” Al said, as the first people came up to the police line.It was a line he repeated time and time again over the next hour.A surprising number of people didn't have a vaccination certificate and, once he offered, they were happy to be vaccinated.Their cards would be prepared while they ate their food.“I need to see your vaccination certificate.”“We don’t have one,” a shrewish woman said.Her husband nodded beside her, while her kids – showing signs of early obesity despite the fact they should have been on limited rations – started to run amuck.“We do not choose to be vaccinated.”She drew herself up and stared right into Al’s eyes.“I will not allow myself or my family to be vaccinated,” she added.“You have no right to insist that we be vaccinated.”“You are both a potential victim and carrier of Henderson’s Disease,” Al snapped, hating the woman in that moment [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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