Plague Town E-Book

Dana Fredsti

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

People are dying. Then they are waking up hungry. In the small university town of Redwood Grove, people are succumbing to a lethal strain of flu. They are dying—but not for long. Ashley Parker and her boyfriend are attacked by these shambling, rotting creatures that crave human flesh. Their lives will never be the same again. When she awakes Ashley discovers that she is a "wild card"— immune to the virus—and is recruited by a shadowy paramilitary organization that offers her the chance to fight back. Trained by gorgeous vegan Gabriel, and bonding with her fellow wild cards, Ashley begins to discover skills she never knew she had. As the town falls to ever-growing numbers of the infected, Ashley and her team fight to contain the outbreak—but will they be enough?

Leseprobe

BOOKS BY

DANA FREDSTI

THE ASHLEY PARKER NOVELS

Plague Town

Plague Nation (forthcoming)

Plague World (forthcoming)

Murder For Hire: The Peruvian Pigeon

AN ASHLEY PARKER NOVEL

PLAGUE

TOWN

DANA FREDSTI

TITAN BOOKS

PLAGUE TOWN

Print edition ISBN: 9780857686350

E-book edition ISBN: 9780857686381

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark St, London SE1 0UP

First edition: April 2012

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Dana Fredsti asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Copyright © 2012 Dana Fredsti

Visit our website: www.titanbooks.com

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

Printed and bound in the United States.

To Jack Young and Norman David Morris

Jack, you taught me to lock and load... and always reach for the sky.

David, you were a wonderful friend and the best “big brother” a girl could want.

I wish you were both here to read this.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About The Author

PROLOGUE

“That’s how it always begins. Very small.”

Egg Shen, Big Trouble in Little China

“Just the flu,” Maggie murmured, stirring a large pot of homemade chicken soup. “That’s all it is.”

Nothing to worry about, Dr. Albert had explained. Unless you’re very young or very old.

He called it Walker’s flu, said that like any virus, it exploited weaknesses in the immune system. But Josh and their son Jason were perfectly healthy—they could fight off anything Mother Nature threw their way. Just in case, though, the doctor had given them both the usual anti-virals. He’d also insisted that she have a shot, although considering how much vomit and Kleenex she’d waded through in the last few days, it was pretty much a case of shutting the barn door after the horse was long gone.

Everything will be fine, she told herself silently.

Not that you could tell from the way Josh was acting. This was the first serious illness her husband had experienced since he’d contracted the mumps as a child. It was all she could do not to laugh when her usually stoic spouse reverted to a childish whiner in his sick bed. Though Jason was only seven, he was soldiering though it better than his father.

Still, her hands were full nursing them and she was exhausted.

Their fevers had to break soon. They’d both had brief periods of relief where their temperatures had dropped and their appetites had returned, but the respite had been short-lived—an hour or so at most.

Maggie didn’t like the way the whites of their eyes had gone yellow, either—a sickly color shot through with red lines. She worried that it was a sign of jaundice. Didn’t that mean the liver was infected?

No, if they weren’t on the mend by the morning, she’d have to load them into the car and make the long, winding drive down the mountain into Redwood Grove for another visit with the doctor. In the meantime, she’d continue to bring them chicken soup, saltines, and ginger ale, even if the food just sat on the nightstand, untouched.

If only they would eat.

“Mom?” Jason’s voice, a thin echo of its usual healthy tone, came through the baby monitor she’d placed next to his bed. “Mom, my throat hurts. I’m so thirsty.”

Maggie hit the speaker button.

“Be right there, baby,” she said. “I’ll bring you some water.”

Jason coughed in reply, issuing a wet, phlegmy sound that would have alarmed her if she hadn’t heard it so many times the last few days. Still, it seemed as if he was coughing up a lung.

Stirring the soup a few more times, Maggie turned down the burner under the pot, tightened her robe, grabbed a glass, and filled it with tap water. Then she headed up the stairs in what must have been her fiftieth trip of the day.

She sighed.

Who needs the gym?

Walking down the hallway to Jason’s room, she sniffed and wrinkled her nose. The smell of stale, sweat-soaked linens hung in the air, tinged with urine. Hopefully she’d be able to wash the sheets in the next day or two.

Pushing Jason’s door open with her free hand, Maggie stepped into her seven-year-old son’s room... and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Dear Jesus...”

Jason lay in his bed in his Spider-Man pajamas, eyes wide open, unnaturally dark blood trickling out from his tear ducts, nostrils, ears, and mouth. His skin was cyanotic blue and the corneas of his eyes were fish-belly white.

The glass slipped from Maggie’s hand, shattering on the hardwood floor, sending water and shards flying everywhere. She didn’t notice, her attention entirely on her son.

“J... Jason?” She took another step into the room, glass crunching beneath her shoes. “Baby?”

No response. Her little boy lay there unmoving, the blood seeping out onto the pillow, creating a dark halo around his corn-silk blond hair.

A deep primal wail stuck in Maggie’s throat, a hair’s breadth from emerging and shattering the silence with its pain. Part of her refused to accept the evidence of her eyes, and she shoved the cry back, somehow knowing that voicing her loss would make it real.

Josh, she thought instinctively. I have to get Josh. He’ll know what to do.

She backed out of Jason’s room and spun, sprinting to the master bedroom where Josh had spent the last four days lying in misery. The door was ajar, and she stumbled past it.

“Josh,” she choked. “It’s Jason, I think he’s... he’s not breathing, and—” The words caught in her throat.

Josh lay on his back, his head turned toward the sound of Maggie’s voice, but there was nothing but pain in his gaze. He coughed, and blood sprayed out of his mouth. More dribbled from his nostrils, ears, and eyes. It was as if his insides were dissolving.

Before Maggie could do more than gasp in horror, her husband’s jaw fell open and a rattling noise emerged—a wheezing, liquid vibration coming from deep in his throat.

He’s choking, she realized. Suffocating on his own blood. She flew across the room, grabbing him by the shoulders and lifting him in an attempt to raise his head and clear out his esophagus. She could feel the fever radiating from his body like heat rising from asphalt on a summer day.

“C’mon honey, breathe!” she said, shifting into emergency mode. “Breathe, god dammit!” But Josh’s head just lolled to one side, his eyes quickly glazing over with the same milky film as Jason’s.

“Ohjesusohjesusohjesus...”

Maggie’s head shook back and forth in denial even as she lowered Josh back onto the bed and reached for the phone on the bedside table. This isn’t happening, she told herself as her fingers stabbed out 9-1-1. Dr. Albert said it was just the flu. Where’s all the blood coming from? There had to be an answer, a cure, something that would bring back her husband and son.

She listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, waiting for a calm, soothing voice to pick up and tell her what to do.

“Hurryhurryhurry,” she chanted, averting her eyes from Josh’s body. Five, six, seven times, and no one answered. She raised her arm, ready to hurl the phone across the room, when a thumping noise in the doorway stopped her short.

Her little boy, her Jason, lurched into the room, one hand slamming unheedingly against the doorframe.

Maggie gave a choked sob of joy. She dropped the phone and reached for his small form as he staggered toward her. His arms stretched out pleadingly, his mouth agape.

Maggie’s eyes widened as she saw her son with sudden clarity. The still-bluish tint of his skin... his milky eyes, like those of a blind man. Her skin crawled, and instinctively she started to draw back.

No! He needs me.

She reached for him again with the age-old reflexes of a mother.

By the time her heart caught up with her brain and Jason had sunk his teeth into her arm, it was too late.

Because Josh was awake now, too. And so was his appetite.

CHAPTER ONE

I slapped the head of my giant panda alarm clock, sending a metal spike into its adorable panda skull. Normally I’d feel guilty about assaulting an endangered species, but anything to stop the hideous ringing.

I hate getting up.

I mean, really hate it. I’d sleep until noon if I had my way, but someone thought it was a good idea to start the day in the morning.

I’m too old for this, I thought through the cobwebs. Try as I might to schedule my first class at a reasonable hour, there was an asshole out there who’d decided that “Pandemics in History” were best studied at 8 a.m.

Sadist. Like I really needed to read about the Black Death, or debate love during the time of cholera, with just a single cappuccino under my belt.

One... two... three!

I threw off the down comforter and rolled out of bed, taking my time standing up. I’m never particularly perky before 10 a.m. In fact, I’m the anti-perk. But I was especially slow to start these days.

Bad enough that I was at least ten years older than anyone else in the class. Who would have thought a decade could make such a difference? On top of that, I’d already missed the first week of my sophomore year thanks to a case of genuine, bona fide Walker’s flu; named, by the way, after the first guy to catch the disease. I could think of better ways to be immortalized.

Damn, it had kicked my butt. It left me weak and cranky. Really cranky.

I hardly ever get sick, but it’d slipped in right after a nasty case of food poisoning. Dr. Albert—our family GP since I was in diapers—said I probably caught it because of my weakened immune system.

That didn’t make me feel any better about it. Weirdly enough, the doc had seemed almost cheerful at the thought, until I’d refused a shot of flu vaccine.

Dr. Albert was a big believer in flu shots. Kind of like an evangelistic drug pusher... except legit. I’d missed the free flu vaccine clinic while I’d been puking up my guts due to some bad sushi—I should have known eating at a fast food place called Sushirama was a bad idea.

So he’d tried to shoot me up when I crawled into his office, but I’d said no way. I mean, I was already sick, so putting more nasties into my system seemed like a bad idea.

Now, as I stood up on unsteady legs, I wondered if maybe I should have listened to him.

My roommate Zara was already gone for the day, leaving the bathroom free and clear, thank goodness. I mean, I liked her, but honestly, the girl took an hour to put on make-up, and that was after all the scrubbing, exfoliating, creaming, and toning. And the vegetable and fruit drawers in our little fridge were stuffed full of leaking jars of face goo. Our apples and carrots may have smelled funny, but they had the best skin in town.

I stared at my face in the bathroom mirror.

Euwww.

At least I wouldn’t get carded if I wanted to buy booze. I looked old enough to be my mother. My skin had this kind of pale olivey cast, the same color as those scary babies in Italian Renaissance paintings. And my eyes looked dull—more gray than green, like brackish swamp water.

Okay, maybe not that bad, but points for using “brackish” in a sentence before my first cup of coffee.

Glancing guiltily at Zara’s magic potions, I pried one open and used it to try and hide the dark circles under my eyes. Applied something called “Sun-Kissed Beige Glow” to try to change the sickly tone of my skin to an artificially natural tint. The result surprised me.

Definitely better.

A little mascara and some lip-gloss brightened my face enough to pass inspection. That left the thick, tawny mess I call hair. I pulled it back and used an industrial strength metal clip made in the shape of a butterfly. The violet and red crystals set in the wings caught the sunlight shining through the bathroom window. At least part of me sparkled. Although not in a Twilight way.

Personally I thought Edward was kinda... well... gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I prefered my vamps like Christopher Lee or the cute Billy Idol clone in Buffy. Not bothering with all the torturey-angst, just happy to sip blood from some sexy women.

Uh-oh. Couldn’t let Matt know about that. Just a hint of encouragement, and he’d be trying for a threesome.

Which made me smile, in spite of myself. After all, my boy toy was wicked cute in a button-down collar kind of way. He was on the swim team, which made him all toned and tan in the right places. If only he was just a little bit older...

Then again, that was part of the appeal, wasn’t it? Proving I could attract someone as hunky as Matt at twenty-nine, after my ex had dumped me for an eighteen-year-old.

Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson.

I finally pulled on some jeans, a long pink tank top, baby-doll T-shirt in a darker pink, and a violet hoodie. Like most Nor-Cal coastal communities, Redwood Grove was cool and foggy the majority of the time, but you never knew when the sun was going to burn through the fog. Layering was usually the safest bet.

I didn’t have too far to walk to my first class—the apartment was just a couple blocks away from the campus proper—but today it felt like miles. I’d lost some weight during my double-whammy, and while, sure, it was great to have my clothes comfortably loose, I felt as if a strong gust of wind would blow me away. Every once in a while I’d still get hit with a hot flash that made me want to turn around and crawl back in bed.

I hate being sick.

Fog shrouded the campus this morning, condensation dripping from roof eaves and plants. The tops of the redwoods vanished into the mist. I inhaled deeply, loving the smell of leaves, mulch, and a hint of salt air. Then a coughing fit hit me, reminding me that I’d have to enjoy nature a little less enthusiastically for a while.

I walked past the two-story Victorian house I’d shared with my ex-husband, a former professor at Big Red, and flipped it off.

I smiled. While I was sick, I’d had to forego my daily ritual. I’d missed it.

Next I stopped at one of Big Red’s many coffee kiosks for an extra-hot, wet double cappuccino and a blueberry muffin. It cost me an extra five minutes, but if I didn’t eat something I’d spend the next hour clutching my stomach every time it growled, pretending it wasn’t me. And if I didn’t have my caffeine, I might as well have stayed in bed.

By the time I reached D. B. Patterson Hall, the corridors were pretty much cleared out, which meant I was definitely in the late zone. At room 217 I opened the door as quietly as possible, hoping to sneak into the auditorium and find a seat in the back row.

Unfortunately, the door was badly in need of WD-40, and room 217 was one of the smaller auditoriums. It announced my arrival. Loudly.

From where I stood, conspicuous in layers of pink and violet, I could see that almost every seat was filled—including the back row.

“Excuse me... miss?”

A deep male voice hailed me from the front of the room. A tall, drop-dead gorgeous blond guy in his late twenties stood near the lectern. Nice to see someone my own age in class, even if he was a teacher. Learning about buboes and black vomit might be fun after all.

When I say “blond,” I’m talking the kind of hair people describe as freshly minted gold. I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but I was betting on sky-blue. His features were regular, other than a bump in his otherwise perfect nose. He looked like an archangel who’d gone a round or two with Rocky Balboa. A little young to be a professor, but I wasn’t about to complain.

Damn, he was pretty.

He’d been fussing with papers and a laptop, but now he was just staring. I gave him my most charming smile and did a little toast with my cappuccino cup.

He looked totally uncharmed.

“Any reason you can’t take a seat and join us?” he asked loudly.

Okay, now, no need for sarcasm. But I kept the smile.

“Um, not seeing any empty seats?” I replied.

He pointed to one in the front row.

“Please, be my guest.”

Great. I did my best to ignore the giggles and whispers that followed me down the aisle. I noticed a couple of girls looking very pleased at my embarrassment. Dimes-to-donuts they were hot for teacher.

And the cute asshat wasn’t done yet. As I sat down, he leaned forward from the lectern.

“Any particular reason you’re late, Miss...”

“Ashley,” I said, deciding that was all he deserved to know.

“Miss Ashley?”

“Close enough,” I answered, shooting for calm and collected. And speaking of close enough, I could see his eyes now. They were, indeed, a very pleasing shade of denim blue. Much more pleasing than his personality—if that was what you could call it.

He pulled a piece of paper out of a notebook and ran a finger down it.

“Ashley Parker?”

Crap.

I nodded and bit into my blueberry muffin. Now that he had my name, maybe he’d drop it.

“So-o-o...” He drew the word out, and I knew that couldn’t be good. “What made you decide to join us today, given that the first week of class wasn’t to your liking?”

“Not my fault,” I protested. “I’ve been sick,” I added, hoping that would shut him up.

No such luck.

“And now you’re late.”

“Like I said, I’ve been sick.” He raised an eyebrow. “Walker’s,” I added, hoping that might be my “Get Out of Jail Free” card.

The look on his face told me he couldn’t care less.

“Ah, yes, Walker’s,” he said. “The new substitute for, ‘the dog ate my homework.’” That sent a titter through the class.

Did you wake up on the wrong side of bed, or are you always in permanent fucktard mode? I took a deep breath before replying. No way I’d give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice break.

“I sent in a doctor’s note.”

Still no mercy.

“That doesn’t explain today,” he replied, pinning me with those beautiful baby blues.

I’d give my hair a soccer mom cut before I’d cry in front of this jerk.

“It’s still hard to get moving in the morning,” I said between gritted teeth.

“If you didn’t stuff yourself with processed sugar and caffeine, you’d have a healthier immune system.” He stared at my double, extra-hot, wet cappuccino. “I’d think that at your age, you’d know better.” More titters.

I’m going to have to kill him, I thought. What a waste of perfectly good man flesh.

“In fact,” he said, turning to the rest of the class, “Miss Parker here is a perfect example of what not to do if you want to keep up a healthy immune system. She would be one of the first to die in a pandemic.”

I gaped at him. What a tool!

“Excuse me,” I said, “but didn’t a lot of the victims of the Spanish flu die because they had healthy systems? Didn’t their immune response go way over the top, and cause inflammation of the lungs?” Lying in bed for a week, you have a lot of time to read for your classes. My addiction to the History Channel didn’t hurt either.

Jerkwad, however, didn’t bat an eye before shooting back.

“True, but they didn’t have the medical resources we do today,” he countered. “And I guarantee that an uncompromised immune system, coupled with modern medicine, will serve you better than a double latte when fighting the pandemics of the future.”

I swear the girl next to me scooted over. I resisted the urge to sneeze on her Coach handbag.

As I did so there was another loud creak, and a short and skinny little Goth girl slipped in through one of the side doors. She was all decked out in black and purple, with pale pink hair floating around her face like a pastel dandelion. Her black, buckled platform boots said “tough girl,” but her bright smile seemed free of ‘tude. She scurried straight over to my new arch-nemesis.

“Hey, Gabriel,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. My car broke down and I had to take the bus the rest of the way from Maberry.”

Gabriel, huh? Like the nasty angel in Prophecy, always blowing his own horn and causing trouble. It fit. And now he had a new victim. I took a sip of my coffee and waited for him to rip her a new one. Then don’t drive cars. I don’t.

But “Gabriel” just gave her a half-smile.

“At least you made it,” he said.

I almost choked on my cappuccino. How come Miss Hot Topic got a free pass?

Then he turned and addressed the class.

“Everyone, this is Jamie Ackerman, Professor Fraser’s new intern.”

Ah, so dickwad isn’t the professor? The plot thickened.

“She’ll be helping out in class for the rest of the semester,” he added. The girl next to me, a total Mean Girls type, raised her hand and spoke in a high voice.

“Does this mean you won’t be helping any more?” Great, I was sitting next to Betty Boop, and she was hot for teacher, too. Now I really wanted to sneeze on her bag. Yet she gave me hope...

“No, I’ll still be assisting Professor Fraser, as well,” he announced.

Damn.

A nearly audible sigh of relief rippled through the auditorium as students whispered amongst themselves.

The side door opened again and the conversations immediately died down. Gabriel practically stood at attention while Jamie turned toward the newcomer like a flower seeking the sun. This had to be Professor Fraser.

A tall, elegant woman with patrician features, clear grass-green eyes, and blond hair drawn up in a French twist, she commanded attention immediately. Her outfit was a tailored, hunter-green trumpet skirt and jacket with a nipped-in waist. Very retro. She could have been anywhere between forty and fifty-five. Cate Blanchett would play her in the movie.

She strode to the lectern and surveyed all of us with a cool green stare. Her gaze fell on me and she raised an eyebrow. Her Vulcan forefathers would have been proud.

“You’re new.”

“Ashley Parker,” I said.

“Ah, yes, I received the note from Dr. Albert.” She stared at me sharply, and I wondered why. “Walker’s, yes?”

“Er... uh-huh.” I braced myself for another lecture on nutrition and the evils of caffeine.

“You still look a bit pale,” she said. “Make sure to get plenty of sleep.” With that she clapped her hands together and smiled. “So, who’s ready to learn about buboes and the difference between bubonic, pneumonic, and septicemic plagues?

“Everyone? Excellent!”

Maggie was hungry.

The chunks of flesh missing from her arms didn’t bother her. She didn’t notice that both breasts were gone or that her intestines poked through the gaping hole in her abdomen. And even though her left leg was shredded and barely bore the weight of what remained of her torso, she didn’t care. The hollow, gnawing sensation inside was the only thing Maggie registered.

Staggering down the stairs, she made her way to the front door and began her slow, lurching march toward food.

CHAPTER TWO

“... That jerk had the nerve to humiliate me in front of the entire class and he wasn’t even the professor!”

“Sounds like a total bag o’ douche.” Matt dropped a comforting kiss on the top of my head. Seeing as he was six foot and then some, it was easy for him to do. I’m just five-seven in my stocking feet.

“I should’ve kicked him in the cajones,” I grumbled.

“Should’ve,” Matt said agreeably. “If he had any.”

I smiled up at him, taking a moment just to admire how damn cute he was. Our five-year age difference didn’t quite make him my boy toy, but it was enough to make me feel slightly naughty. Matt reminded me of a cross between Owen and Luke Wilson, hair between blond and brown, hazel eyes, and that body... He did more for Gap jeans and white cotton shirt than most men did for a tux.

We moved up another foot in the line.

As usual, Che Cafe was crowded. It had the advantage of being in the student union, the central hub of Big Red, and the food was pretty damned tasty. You could get a veggie burger or a big honkin’ buffalo burger. Pizza, decent Thai and Middle Eastern food, sandwiches, a burrito/taco bar, tofu, steamed veggies, and salads. Something for everyone.

I’d been living on miso soup, chicken broth, saltines, and watered-down Gatorade for what seemed like forever. I caught the smell of red meat and practically started drooling. My appetite was back with a vengeance.

Finally we reached the front.

“What do you want, babe?” Matt grinned down at me, an endearingly cocky grin known to melt the panties off entire sororities. “My treat, to make up for your sucky TA.”

“Ooh, buffalo burger with double cheese. And onion rings.” I snuggled against him. He may not have been the smartest guy on campus, but Matt never failed to make me feel special.

“No wonder you got sick, eating like that.”

Oh, you have got to be kidding me...

I looked around and there was the douchebag himself. And in spite of myself, I confirmed that he did as much as Matt for jeans and a plain white cotton shirt. Maybe even a little bit more. He was about as tall, too.

There is no justice.

Had he been standing there the entire time? I mean, could I be that clueless? Judging from his expression, the answer to both those questions was a big old yes.

Ugh.

Okay, the only defense at this point was a good offense. Disengaging myself from Matt, I crossed my arms.

“What the hell do you care about what I eat?”

Gabriel smirked down at me from his superior height.

“Not a hell of a lot,” he replied, “except for the fact you’re wasting Professor Fraser’s time, and a seat in class that could belong to someone who deserves it.”

Matt bristled behind me.

“Ash, is this the douchebag?” he growled. I waved him back.

“I’ll handle this, sweetie.” This was my war.

I took a step toward Gabriel.

“Are you for real?” I demanded. “I mean, do you just wake up every morning and say ‘Today I will be an asshole to the first innocent bystander who crosses my path’? Or did I kill your puppy or something? ’Cause I’d really like to know.”

“I just don’t like the idea that the university is wasting time trying to improve people who can’t be improved,” he countered. “Anyone who’s too stupid to live properly shouldn’t be cluttering up the system.”

“Hey, asshole...” Matt said, and I heard him step forward.

“It’s cool, babe,” I told him over my shoulder. Then I turned back to my new archenemy. “Two things,” I said. “One, class hadn’t even started yet, and you know it.” My teeth were clenched so tight I bet I could have made a diamond from a lump of coal. “The professor—the real one—wasn’t even there.”

“That’s not the point, now, is it?” he replied. “Class is supposed to start at eight. Professor Fraser is there to teach the students. You’re not there to teach her. So the least you can do is show her the respect of showing up on time.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I missed seeing how you stack your notes. Damn. There goes the midterm now.”

Gabriel narrowed those gorgeous blue eyes.

Stop it! I told myself.

“Two,” I continued, determined to have my say. “Did anyone tell Westborough Baptist one of their judgmental pricks is missing?”

His nostrils flared. Score.

“Why are you even taking Professor Fraser’s class?” he demanded.

“Because it sounded interesting,” I shot back. “Did I need a better reason?”

“You’re a Liberal Arts major, aren’t you?”

“And that’s supposed to mean what?”

“That you don’t know what you want to be when you grow up, so you’re wasting our time while you figure it out.” He gave me a dismissive once-over. “Your slot could be occupied by someone who’s worth the time and effort.” He followed this up with a look so condescending, it was all I could do not to punch him in the face.

The fact that he might be right didn’t help.

Matt, on the other hand, felt no such restraint. Testosterone crackled and before I knew what was happening he’d stepped in front of me and straight-armed Gabriel with a hand to the chest.

“Back off, asswipe!” Matt growled.

I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but next thing I knew there was yelling, Matt was on the ground with one arm twisted up behind him, and Gabriel’s foot was braced against his back.

“You jerk!” I yelled. Never mind that Matt had thrown the first... er... shove.

I smacked Gabriel on the side of his head as hard as I could. He whipped around and his expression very nearly got an “I’m sorry” out of me. His pupils were dilated so they were more black than blue, and he honestly looked as though he’d kill me without a second thought. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde.

I was just stubborn enough—and hungry enough—to stand my ground. Low blood sugar is a great equalizer.

“Let go of him now!” I demanded. Then I prepared for the worst.

To my surprise and relief Gabriel slowly backed off, lifting his foot and releasing Matt’s arm at the same time. He moved out of the way as Matt rolled onto his back and then jumped to his feet, fists clenched. I quickly stepped in-between them just in case Matt decided to take another swing.

I needn’t have worried.

Evidently Matt’s surge of protective testosterone had faded as quickly as it’d come. What he said next floored me.

“Damn, that was fast!” He peered at Gabriel, and his fists uncurled. “Judo?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Aikido.” His expression was almost sheepish. “Are you okay?”

Matt nodded.

“Just a little embarrassed,” he said. “It’s not cool being taken down in front of my girlfriend.”

“Don’t be,” Gabriel said. “It wasn’t a fair match. I’ve been training for fifteen years.”

I couldn’t resist.

“Training at what? Being a black-belt pain in the ass?”

Gabriel’s lip twitched in what might have been a smile if it’d had a chance to grow a little.

“Perhaps I owe you an apology.”

I waited.

“I’m... sorry.” The words didn’t quite stick in his throat, but they tried. “I’m working on five hours sleep over the last three days, and it’s made me short-tempered.” He faced Matt when he spoke, so I didn’t think I was meant to be the recipient of his mea culpa.

“Oh, dude, that sucks,” Matt said. “I did a couple of all nighters for mid-terms last year. Totally screwed with my head. I’m sorry I swung at you.”

I rolled my eyes. Enough with the male bonding already.

“Um, Matt?” I said, maybe a little too sharply. “Can we get some food please?”

Matt stared at me blankly for a second.

“Huh? Oh, sure.” He moved back toward the counter, paused, and then looked at me again.

“What did you want?”

The testosterone-drenched fun fest didn’t end there. Gabriel ended up sitting with us during lunch. Normally I’d be totally jazzed to be sitting with two guys that hunky—especially considering the envious stares of coeds much younger than me—but I’d had enough crap for one day. And there was something really irritating about how fast Matt went from protective boyfriend to total man-crush.

I stared at Gabriel and openly savored a juicy bite of my buffalo burger, but he seemed to be out of self-righteous snark for the time being.

“So you don’t eat any meat?” Matt took a big bite of his burger, oblivious to the irony of his question.

“No meat, no poultry, no dairy.”

“No fun,” I muttered, dipping an onion ring in ketchup.

“Not true,” Gabriel replied. “You’d be amazed.”

“I bet I would,” I said. “What about onion rings? There are no animal products in onion rings, are there?” I waved one at him.

“Vegan diets are free of cholesterol, and are generally low in saturated fat.” He sounded as if he were reciting from the Vegan Bible or something. “So no, no onion rings.”

I shook my head. “Like I said,” I replied, “no fun.”

Maggie made slow but steady headway toward Redwood Grove. Some instinct kept her moving in the right direction even when she left the winding road, taking a more direct path through the woods.

She fell often, the lack of connective tissue around her left knee making balance a problem. Her feet were bare and the flesh was torn, but she felt no pain, not even when she landed face first in a bush and a broken branch punctured an eyeball. It snapped off with the force of her fall, leaving Maggie with a stick jutting out of her ruined eye socket, vitreous egg-white oozing from the puncture and sliding down her cheek like thickened tears.

Inexorably pulling herself to her feet, she began moving again. Not far away there was the sound of an automobile pulling to a stop, the engine shutting off. Maggie shifted direction abruptly, following the echoing slam of a car door. The trees thinned out, revealing a small building, carved redwood bears and other items lined up on its raised porch. Several cars were parked in front.

There were splotches of blood leading up the stairs and into the souvenir store. A stuffed bear lay in a pool of congealing gore.

Her attention focused on the oblivious young man who was fiddling with one of the gas pumps. He wore shorts, despite the chill weather, and his legs were strong and tanned.

An ululating moan emerged from Maggie’s mouth, a call of dreadful desire having nothing to do with sex. She stumbled down a small slope leading to the parking lot, sprawling full length on the gravel in her awkward rush.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

The sound of his voice made her moan again, the sound muffled against pine needles and gravel.

“Ma’am?” Closer now. “Ma’am, are you hurt?”

She heard the crunch of his shoes on gravel.

“Jesus...” His footsteps quickened. “Don’t move, let me help you!” An arm curled around her shoulders as he tried to help Maggie to her feet.

She clutched at him with eager hands, mewling noises mixing with the moans as he lifted her.

“Jesus, we need to get you to the hospital and—” He stared into her face, punctured eyeball and all. Before he could react, she sunk her teeth into his cheek, ripping a strip of flesh from his cheekbone to his jaw line.

“Jesus fuck!” Screaming, the man shoved her away and back-pedaled, hand clasped to his face as blood poured between his fingers and ran down into the collar of his gray Big Red sweatshirt. Maggie staggered after him, arms lifted as if imploring him to hold her again.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Still clutching his face, the man backed away toward his car, not taking his eyes off of her as she followed him. He slammed into the rear passenger door and ran around the back of the car, only to catch his foot on the gas hose.

He went down hard, his skull smacking against the edge of a pump island, then lay there dazed for a minute, shaking his head. By the time he could move, Maggie had staggered around the car. She fell on him.

Before his screams had fallen silent, Maggie was joined by two other figures that shared her feast. Josh and Jason had been busy eating inside the gift shop. They were still hungry, however, and joined Maggie for a family meal.

CHAPTER THREE

“Ash, have you seen my exfoliating scrub?” Zara asked weakly, followed by a rattling coughing fit. My poor roomie had been bitten hard by Walker’s, but even bedridden she insisted on following her skin care regimen, come hell or high water.

I hustled into the kitchen where she was huddled in front of the open fridge, feebly digging through apples and Diet Cokes. She looked terrible, the circles under her eyes so dark her face seemed bruised, and the rest of her skin sickly pale. Her dark-brown hair hung in sweat-soaked hanks down her back, stray strands plastered to her face.

All the exfoliant in the world wasn’t going to help.

“Zara, get back into bed!” I said. Putting an arm around her shoulders, I led her back to the twin bed across from mine. “You can exfoliate later, okay?”

Zara lay down, coughed again, then smiled weakly up at me.

“You’ll find it for me, though, right?”

I held up my right hand and crossed my heart.

“By the time you’re ready for a facial, I will have unearthed your Sassy scrub from wherever it’s hiding.”

Zara heaved a sigh, as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her soul, and fell sound asleep. I felt her forehead; it was hot and clammy. She’d been really sick for three days now, despite having gotten the flu vaccine. If she wasn’t any better tomorrow, I’d get Matt to help me drive her to see Dr. Albert.

With all the fuss about the latest flu, I’d heard that maybe, what, around six hundred people had actually died from it so far. Yeah, six hundred isn’t exactly a small number, but thousands of people die every year from the regular bug. Given the population of California—let alone the rest of the country—Walker’s didn’t seem too alarming.

Even Gabriel had been out sick, despite his vegan miracle diet. Since I’d been fit as a fiddle for two weeks now, it was something I planned to exploit mercilessly as soon as he returned. But while I was a little concerned about Zara, I pretty much assumed she’d get over it, like I had.

Still, I’d keep an eye on her.

Speaking of sickness and death, I mused, I’m going to be late for Pandemics if I don’t leave right away. So I grabbed my bag and dashed out the door.

There was only one other person in line at the coffee kiosk; an androgynous-looking hipster with a pixie cut, American Outfitters hoodie, and distressed jeans tucked into L.L. Bean boots. The smell of cloves tipped me off to his cigarette even before he raised it to his mouth for a long inhale.

He started hacking right after the puff, a deep, rattling cough that made me step back a foot. I didn’t think I could catch Walker’s again, but still...

While I waited for the girl in the kiosk to make the hipster’s foamy double extra-hot vanilla latte, I looked around. There were surprisingly few people, given that the outbreak had been going on for more than a month.

But we had to be in the home stretch. Hopefully by the next week most of them would be back, and the campus would return to its usual beehive of activity. I hoped so, ’Cause for the moment it resembled a ghost town.

I ordered my usual double cappuccino and blueberry muffin.

“Is it just me, or is it even deader than usual today?” I commented.

The girl tamped down two shots of espresso with an expert hand.

“It’s crazy dead today. You’re, like, my fifth customer this morning. Normally we have a total mad rush by eight.” Frothing the non-fat milk, she made my cappuccino as automatically as a robot would. Android barista.

“Weird,” I said. “I mean, I know a lot of people have been sick the last couple weeks, but you’d think they’d be back in class by now.”

She handed me my cap.

“I heard the ER’s still hopping.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded, using tongs to pull a fat streusel-encrusted blueberry muffin out of the case. I tried not to drool.

“Yup,” she added. “And from what I’ve heard, some people have been getting kind of crazy.”

“Crazy like how?”

She shrugged, putting the bag on the counter.

“Fights and stuff. Really sick people attacking folks in the hospital and on the street.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t heard any of this stuff.”

She glanced around, then leaned closer.

“My brother works for the Redwood Grove PD. He says it’s no big deal, but the cops are trying to keep it quiet so people don’t freak out.”

My turn to nod.

“Yeah, I can see why they wouldn’t want to have that getting around.” Forking over four fifty, I stuffed a buck in the tip jar and headed to D.B. Patterson Hall, dodging a gaggle of grim-faced ROTC types in full-on military gear jogging across the grass in front of the student union.

Be all that you can be, and all that.

I hoped Gabriel was back today. I couldn’t wait to ask him how his diet of fruit, nuts, soy and whole grain had worked out for him.

Granted, our student-TA relationship had improved since that contentious first day, but we still sniped at each other. His sanctimonious attitude definitely brought out the worst in me. And if I behaved badly... well, he started it.

I made it to room 217 at five minutes before eight, plenty of time to have my pick of seats. From the look of things, I probably could have arrived at eight-thirty and still picked a seat pretty much wherever I wanted. The classroom was only half full.

Jamie—whom I still thought of as Miss Hot Topic—stood in Gabriel’s usual spot at the lectern, getting the projector set and doing whatever else Gabriel did to make himself feel important before class

Meow.

She looked up at the sound of the door creaking, but when she saw it was me, she went back to her work without acknowledging my presence.

Jamie did not like me. I’d figured this out after three consecutive classes where my efforts to talk to her had been studiously ignored. Maybe she had a crush on Gabriel or something.

Whatever.

I took out my copy of Professor Fraser’s The Black Death to Ebola: Plagues Through History, and pulled out my trusty NEO AlphaSmart. A lot of students used laptops, but if there was one thing I didn’t need during class was an excuse to distract myself with stuff like Facebook, Twitter, and random web surfing.

The AlphaSmart gave me word processing, but no Internet. If I had access, I’d do it. My mind was willing, but my attention span weak.

By the time Professor Fraser arrived, looking like a forties movie star in wide-legged black trousers and a white silk blouse, we were still missing at least a third of the class, and of the two thirds there, half were coughing miserably.

The professor stood at the lectern and surveyed the class, with Jamie a couple steps behind her like a worshipful shadow.

“So, how many here feel perfectly healthy today?”

About ten of us raised our hands.

“And how many would rather be home in bed?”

Everyone raised his or her hands. We all laughed, followed by more of those nasty coughing fits.

Professor Fraser smiled and shook her head.

“Let me rephrase that. How many of you feel like death warmed over?”

This time the number of hands counted for at least half of the students in the room.

“Excellent!” she said. “I’d like all of those who just raised their hands to go home immediately.”

A few students laughed, but from the expression on Professor Fraser’s face, it became obvious that she wasn’t joking.

“Now, please,” she said. “You are ill, and should not be here. The irony—of germ-infested students attending a lecture on pandemics—is not lost on me. But the germs you carry should be—so please take them away.” People still hesitated. “If you’re worried about your grades, I guarantee that anyone who misses any portion of this class due to illness will be given every opportunity to make up the work they’ve missed.

“After all, intimate contact with a potentially lethal virus should count as part of your grade.” She clapped her hands together briskly. “Now go!” As much as she was trying to be upbeat, I had the feeling she wasn’t just being a good Samaritan.

I didn’t blame her.

At least half the class slowly rose and trailed out through the doors. The rest of us stayed where we were.

“Jamie?” Professor Fraser gave a nod to her intern, who promptly grabbed a box and started handing out small packets to all of the remaining students. She dropped mine on the little foldout desk that was attached to my chair.

According to the label on the packet, it was a Clean’n’Wipe sanitizing towelette. When everyone had one, the professor spoke again.

“I suggest you all use these to wipe down your hands, desks, and the desks of those who sat next to you.”

Nobody argued with her.

“Miss Parker, you’re looking much healthier this week.” The professor smiled at me approvingly.

“I think I pretty much kicked Walker’s’ butt,” I said.

“Good.” Professor Fraser nodded. “You’re very lucky.”

I caught Jamie glaring at me, and suddenly her animosity made sense. Total girl crush going on here. I’d been on her shit list since day one, ever since Professor Fraser had told me to take care of myself.

Did I mention whatever?

When I stopped back at the dorm to check on Zara, she was still asleep. Her breathing seemed kind of thick and uneven, but her fever had gone down and her color was less “moldy cheese” and “more living co-ed.”

I heated up some chicken broth on our hot plate, and when I brought it to her, she stirred. I propped some pillows under her so she could eat.

“You sure you’re okay if I’m out tonight?” I asked, hoping desperately that she would say “yes.”

Zara nodded, taking a few tentative sips of the broth.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She ate some more soup and had a swallow of ginger ale. “Thanks for making this.”

“No prob. Just stay in bed, okay?”

“I promise.”

I handed her a tube of apricot and olive oil exfoliant. “It was behind the tomatoes. Just don’t try and use it tonight.”

Zara yawned.

“You’re the best, Ash.”

My cell phone beeped. Matt, texting he was waiting for me downstairs.

“Gotta go. Call me on my cell if you need anything!”

But Zara had already curled back up and dropped off, clutching the tube of face scrub like it was a teddy bear.

I smiled as I headed out the door. She was definitely on the mend.

Josh and Jason had suffered less mutilation than Maggie. They traveled with her, some atavistic bond keeping them near even though their corpses were capable of moving much more quickly.

They were all hungry. Their last meal had been a week ago when they’d stumbled across one of the houses scattered through the mountains above Redwood Grove. There had only been one skinny teenager at home when they’d arrived, and by the time the three had eaten their fill, all the girl’s reanimated remains would be able to do was flop and wriggle about on the floor.

Still their hunger persisted.

The sound of motors turned the trio toward a break in the trees. Vehicles painted in forest camouflage rumbled by on the road below.

Food.

Two weeks stumbling through dense forests had taken its toll on Maggie, and she quickly fell behind as Josh and Jason moved with a swift, single-minded purpose down a steeply graded hill that ended in a sheer drop-off. Neither had the coordination needed to stop from tumbling over the edge.