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Reanders jacks a car. With the help of a Smart Car owner, Karen chases her. *Some explicit language


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A Karen Bechard Adventure

Karen Bechard, UN Agent, thought the flight from the US to Europe was going to be routine. It was in mid flight where everything turned ugly. A man hyped on some highly addictive drug goes zombie flesh eating berserk. People die, people get hurt, and then no one to fly the plane. What is an agent to do? And, that was the easy part of the day, of which was turning out to be a Four Horsemen trampling humanity scenario and Karen had to be on her A-game.



“. . . again, LAPD has quarantined skidrow. All traffic has been halted into and out of anywhere east and south of Main and 3rd and west and north of Alameda and 7th street. CDC has been called in. There are reports of vicious attacks and acts of cannibalism coming in. LA County Sheriff, LAPD, LA Fire department and other organizations have mobile units in front of City Hall. There’s talk about bringing in the National Guard . . .”

I turned the TV off.

I told Cortez, “I’m on it.”

He said, “Be safe. Out.”

Mary was looking at me wide eyed. She was scared. “Is this real?”

I nodded. “I gotta go.”

She grabbed me, “Please no Karen. This shit scares me.”

“Mary, look, this is what I do. I put myself in harm’s way. I have to assess the situation first hand.”

She stared at me for a long time. She had the same look she did on the airplane. Then she wiped her eyes and said, “I’m coming with you.”

“The hell you are!”

“Karen, I will not stay here by myself, and I gotta know. You seem to be one of the few people who are in the know. I flew shotgun with you for God Sake.”

“Mary, please think this through. Most likely all the action is in Skidrow and not here.”

“I don’t care. I wan . . . no, need to be near you. I can help too.”

I stared at her.

She stared back. “Karen, please.”

I pointed out the window and stressed, “There are people eating people out there.”

“I ate you didn’t I?!?”

Well, that knocked the wind out of my Sails. I softened my tone, “Ummm, that’s different.”

“Eating is eating.” And she dared me to answer back.

Instead I kissed her. “Have you ever fired a pistol?”

“My sister taught me. Nine, ten, forty-five, three-fifty-seven, shotgun, M16-A2, a handful of rifles.”

Okay I was convinced. “Seriously, this is worse than real. You saw how the guy was on the plane.”

She answered, “Headshot, end of rage.”