N87 Virus | Book 1 | After the Outbreak Kadin, Karri (booksvooks TXT) 📖

as Allison strolled the yard she came upon Dave leaning over the old blue truck in his tan overalls. Allison’s body stiffened as the heat surged through her, sending her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her body fell onto the dirt driveway. The farm blurred from her vision as a wood-paneled hallway came into view. Her stomach burned from hunger, her skin wet as perspiration dripped from her body, her temples pulsating with every beat of her heart. The pain and heat radiated through her body in a deep rumble. Any minute she was sure it would split her in two. Allison crept down the hall, coming up behind a man in tan overalls standing at the kitchen sink. She quietly watched as he ran a sponge across a dish before she sank her teeth into his neck. As she clenched his skin between her teeth, tearing the flesh from his body, the pain and heat slightly subsided only to rev back up with each blow he landed to her head as he tried to free himself. The scene of the man screaming as blood splattered from his neck faded away along with the feeling of intense warmth and agony. Most of the words the man screamed were a jumbled mess in her memory. But one word was clear: “cabin.” Allison awoke in Dave and Sandra’s yard surrounded by chickens with Dave holding her head in his lap.

“Are you okay? That one scared me,” Dave said. “You hit the ground so hard. You haven’t fallen like that in some time.”

“Yeah. That one just hit me fast. I wasn’t ready,” Allison said. Dave helped her up from the ground. Allison brushed the grime from her clothes.

“How about something to distract you? You feel up for an auto maintenance lesson?” Dave smiled.

“Thanks, Dave,” Allison said. “I think that would be nice.” Allison tried to force the memory of the man at the sink from her mind and spent the rest of the afternoon focused on the inner workings of the farm truck.

There were times when Allison could avoid the memories of a flashback, but some were too haunting and disturbing to find relief from. The Sunday Allison went into the barn looking for bedding for the new baby chicks, one such flashback plagued her mind. She noticed an old wood baseball bat leaning in the corner. Suddenly the familiar heat built in her core as her vision blurred. She stumbled to the ground before it overtook her. A group of Infected, Allison with them, surrounded a family on top of their van. The children were crying and clinging to a stuffed penguin. The dad was swinging at the Infected with a bat. The mother’s eyes glazed over, clutching her children tightly. Infected began climbing on the car, blocking the family from Allison’s view as she tried to push her way past the crowd to get closer. A loud crack interrupted, followed by screams and growls as the dad’s bat made contact with an Infected’s head. The screams of children laced the air as the father was pulled from the car. Infected swarmed him.

“Run! Run now!” the mother screamed as she urged her children off the car, while all the Infected moved toward her dying husband who was still swinging his bat. Allison spotted the children sliding from the roof of the car and veered in their direction.

Allison awoke alone in the barn, her face muddy from her tears mixing in the barn dirt. She picked herself up and walked to the corner where she had spotted the bedding material. Pressure built in her chest, squeezing her lungs as she struggled to breathe. The family’s screams rang in her head. Tears slipped from her eyes, and in a wave of frustration she kicked a large wheelbarrow full of cement patio stones. The wheelbarrow and all of its contents slammed into the barn wall six feet away. Allison froze. She examined the deep track gouged into the barn dirt by the skidding wheelbarrow. What the fuck? In haste she cleaned up and with shaky hands placed the wheelbarrow back where it had previously been. Her foot didn’t even hurt. What’s wrong with me? She ran from the barn, completely forgetting about the bedding.

The hot and humid first official day of summer when Sandra decided to thin the flock of chickens brought Allison yet another awful memory.

“Too many roosters!” Sandra exclaimed as she rounded up the unlucky few.

The first rooster on the chopping block was a young one with glossy black feathers. Sandra brought the hatchet down swiftly on its neck, cutting clear from side to side on the first go. The rooster didn’t even see it coming. The crimson liquid pooled on the log as it drained from the gaping hole where the head had been. It dripped from the log, landing with little splatters on the rocks at the base of the stump.

The world slowed and spun around Allison like a carousel. The heat engulfed her body in a burning ache before the images slammed into her like a tsunami. Allison on top of a man in all-black clothing, bashing his head in with a rock as cool rain pounded into her skin. Her damp hair clung to her face, somewhat obscuring her vision. The rock was slippery and tried to jump from her hand with each blow, so she held it with two hands to prevent it from flying from her grasp. As she slammed the rock into his skull, warm blood spatter covered her face and nude body. The contrast of the cold rain and warm blood made her body quiver in anticipation and shivers raced down her spine when his head cracked open beneath the rock, spewing red gooeyness from the opening. A wave of satisfaction washed over her as the painful heat left her body, and she indulged her hunger with the bits of flesh clinging to the rock in her hands.

The images were awful,