He slammed the phone on his desk and addressed Tomas. “Overstreet! You know your crew wasn’t authorized for any study in the Malaysia Outbreak zone. Explain to me why I shouldn’t arrest you.”After decontamination and what seemed an endless seven-hour wait in a holding cell, Tomas had been transported in a nondescript travel trailer to the WHO Mobile Command Center in Johor. Before the trip, he had managed to convince the soldiers manning the fence that he needed to retrieve his equipment, files and the severed head from the SUV. His equipment and files were no trouble. But the head was another matter. The commander had denied his request due to contamination risks. However, one of his lieutenants had had a run-in with a mutated zombie earlier in the day and it had shaken him up quite a bit. He was on a routine inspection of the perimeter about a mile east of the gate. There were a dozen bloated zombies from the original strain piling up against the fence in a gully near a feeder road.
