Doomsday Page #4

bother coming back.

MAN ON PA:

For your own safety,

return to your homes.

East London

is under martial law.

(CAR HORNS HONKING)

(PEOPLE CLAMORING)

What the hell are we

going to do, Canaris?

Just calm down

and listen.

Even if,

by some miracle,

Sinclair finds

what she's looking for

and makes it back in time,

the fact remains,

this is our fault,

we made it happen.

Too many people crammed

into ghettos so tight

they can barely move.

We created the perfect

breeding ground

for a virus to take place.

And the more we save now,

the more chance there is

of the same thing

happening all over again.

Now, we have an opportunity

to buy ourselves

breathing room.

What exactly are

you suggesting?

We're at war, Prime Minister.

It's basic combat triage.

Leave the dying to die.

With the whole

world watching?

With a lie this big,

we can get away with

anything we want.

Major Sinclair!

Good flight?

Fine.

Sergeant Norton.

Welcome to no-man's land.

Why call it that?

There's not another living

soul for miles south of

that wall, except us.

What about

the sentries?

No, the whole system

was fully automated

about 20 years ago.

Nowadays they only

expend their ammo

on the local wildlife.

A team arrived two hours

ago. They're prepping

their gear inside.

Ask them to get suited up,

Sergeant. We're against

the clock on this one.

Yes, sir!

Has the team

been briefed?

I've given them

their assignments,

objectives

and the file

on Dr. Kane.

Major Sinclair.

Chandler. Armor division.

I'll be your driver today.

Yeah, they may be ugly,

but they move like

sh*t off a shovel.

Twin V12 engines,

two-inch armor plate,

and they'll take anything

from 30mm rounds to

chemical weapons.

Just the ticket for

a night on the town.

Where'd they

find these things?

READ:
They patrolled

the hot zone, just

north of the wall.

When the system was

automated, most of them

were sold off for scrap.

These are the last

two in service.

Major, meet Corporal Read.

Tank driver.

Major.

Carry on, Corporal.

Riflemen.

Miller, Carpenter.

BOTH:
Major.

What have we got here?

CARPENTER:
Bio suits.

Combat model. High impact

flexi-polymer.

Gives us total

freedom of movement

and 24-hour protection.

Just what a girl needs.

Prototype,

silicon foam grenade.

This is frontline equipment.

NORTON:
A going-away

present from Canaris.

Are we expecting

trouble?

Is there a problem?

No.

No problem at all, Major.

Good.

NORTON:
This is our cargo,

Doctors Talbot

and Stirling.

SINCLAIR:
You were part

of the task force set up

to study the virus?

That's right.

How do you do, Major?

I took over in '24.

Stirling joined me in '31.

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