Book online «N87 Virus | Book 1 | After the Outbreak Kadin, Karri (booksvooks TXT) 📖». Author Kadin, Karri
After the Outbreak
Wicked Tales Press, LLC
Copyright © 2020 by Wicked Tales Press, LLC
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2020
Wicked Tales Press, LLC
PO Box 503
Newalla, Oklahoma 74857
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Cover design by www.brokencandlebookdesigns.com
Edited by Nathan Winfrey
Thank you to my wonderful critique group, Write Club, and my family for all of your support. This book wouldn’t exist without you.
About the Author
Chapter One Allison
Blood-curdling screams cut through the upbeat dance music like a hunter’s skinning knife slicing through flesh. Allison bolted upright. Tortured cries propelled the hair on the back of her neck to attention. The shock to her sleep-fogged mind caused her to roll off the log onto the damp, leaf-covered ground. What the hell is happening? Overhead, colorful lights danced across the dark treetops in beat with the music. I’m at the Beta Nu Fall Bash with Gabby. The party was obscured from Allison’s view, but between the horrific shrieks and cries for help she knew a nightmare was unfolding only a few yards away.
She pressed to the ground, body stiff and flat. The bark dug into her, leaving snake-skin impressions in her arm, as she pushed her slender frame against the log. Her mind raced with the potential scenarios unfolding on the other side. Are there gunmen? The music blared, spotted with cries of agony like a soundtrack in a horror movie. No gunshots. Car tires spinning, stuck in the thick mud, added to the flurry of noises surrounding her. Animal attack? Screams, crashes, and the roar of multiple engines echoed through the trees. No animal sounds. Allison reached out for her purse on the ground in front of her, barely snagging the strap with her fingertips as she inched it closer.
The crash of metal falling onto the forest floor brought a sudden end to the music. Without it to muffle the sounds, the cries of death and torture echoed through the trees. Shouts for help, howls of pain, and whimpers of surrender engulfed her. Her stomach rolled as the feeling of one thousand June bugs trying to escape her belly at once rushed over her in a wave. She pressed her face into her arm as her body convulsed in a gag.
“Please, please don’t kill me!” a man cried. “Stop, just stop!” A deep human-like snarl answered the man’s plea, followed by a thud, the rip of fabric, then the slurry of well-sauced spaghetti noodles plopping onto the ground. The man stopped screaming, but distant shouts continued as the sweet metallic stench of blood filled her nostrils.
Allison’s skin tingled as goosebumps raced down her spine, sending her body into an irrepressible shiver. I don’t want to die here. She had to do something, so she opened her purse to retrieve her phone. She dug through it with shaking hands, dumping her treasured MAC makeup and Gucci wallet into the mud. No phone. Shit! This is the day I forget my phone. Her breath quickened and shallowed. Her head swam in a haze of terror as the pulsing of her heart in her ears deafened out all surrounding noise.
She dropped her head to the ground and clutched at the mud, filling her fists with the wet earth. Her eyes closed as she took deep breaths in through her nose and blew them out of her mouth. Slow, steady breaths. She opened her eyes as she exhaled and focused her sight on a pebble pressed into the mud right in front of her. The whirling in her head subsided but her heart continued to race, banging against her chest wall like a wild animal in a cage. What do I do?
Mass violence situation. What do I do? Her mind raced back to the mandatory freshman class Violence Prevention and Response. The memory was a blur, clouded by craft beer. As the adrenaline flooded her system she realized she had three choices: flee, hide, or fight. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to think. What do I do? She dug deeper into the memory pushing away the fog floating in her brain. Her eyes sprung open. She had it. First step, she needed to identify the threat. Here goes nothing. She took a deep breath, rose to a squat, and peered over the log.
The scene was mass chaos. By the crumbled DJ booth lay a man with a disheveled person bent over him, their hands inside the man’s abdomen scooping his guts out and bringing them to their lips. Bloody intestines lay in a heap on the ground near them with a few strands still clinging to the man’s torn belly. The man was covered in blood, eyes open, empty of life. His face was twisted in agony as his mouth hung open in a silent scream. His light blue shirt, ripped, stained a deep red; his left shoe missing. Allison’s stomach twisted with anguish. She brought her hands to her face, enclosing them tightly across her mouth as her body jerked with a gag. The acid burned her throat as it rose, trying to escape her lips. She swallowed hard, forcing it back.
What is happening? Where is Gabby? Fear pulsed through her body, clouding her thoughts and making her shiver. Her muscles trembled, wanting to run but unable to move her limbs.
The attacker looked up, face covered in bits of flesh as it scanned the fleeing crowd. Allison could now see the attacker