The Alpha Plague Read Free Page B

throat, Wilfred said, “How was the meal?”
    Excitement lit John’s features; he hadn’t been this animated in years. “It went well.” He then turned back to the window.
    A deep frown, and Wilfred spoke slow and deliberate words. He had to hold onto his fury. His moment would come. “I didn’t make the meal, so why did you tell her I did?”
    “Isn’t it obvious?” John laughed. “She wouldn’t have believed I’d made it. I didn’t want her to be suspicious.” He lifted an eyebrow and added, “We needed her to eat it, after all.”
    Reluctant to look into the room, Wilfred kept his attention on John. “And she ate the steak? It wasn’t too bloody?”
    “It was, but it had to be; we couldn’t cook the virus.”
    Heat radiated from Wilfred’s cheeks. Why had John done it?
    A few seconds of silence passed before John turned to his colleague. “What’s wrong with you? Are you letting your emotions get the better of you again?”
    Wilfred ground his jaw and counted silently to three. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and moved next to the skinny man. When he got close enough, the taste of bleach hit the back of his throat. John smelled like a swimming pool. No matter how much time Wilfred spent around the man, he’d never get used to it. He then looked through the window.  
    A rich kick of bile rose in Wilfred’s throat when he saw Alice slumped over the table in the middle of the room. Pain tore through his chest to look at her blonde hair splayed out like a halo. What had she done to deserve this?
    “It happened exactly like the dogs we tested it on, Wilfred. The blood vessels in her eyes exploded and turned the whites red in an instant. They even bled.” A huge grin opened up John’s long face, and his eyes spread wide. “I could predict exactly when to leave. Exactly!”
    Unable to look away from the woman in the room, Wilfred jumped when she twitched. The surge of adrenaline ran a gentle shake through his hands. It was different to see it happen to dogs—he didn’t have a relationship with them like he had with Alice. A lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed against it. “Is she okay?”
    “Of course she’s not okay. That’s the point!”
    Of course. Stupid bloody question.
    Another glance at Wilfred, and John said, “Is this getting a bit too much for you?”
    The conversation stopped when Alice flicked her head up. Two sticky lines of blood stretched away from her eyeballs in thick tendrils. Her sharp head movements sent a pendulous swing through her loose jaw.
    “Jesus,” Wilfred whispered as he stared at the lines of claret that ran down each of her cheeks.  
    She then vomited blood onto the table in front of her. It covered most of the white surface and spilled over the sides. A splash echoed in the room as it hit the floor.
    Hot saliva gushed down Wilfred’s throat, and a slow heave rolled through his ample gut. When his legs wobbled, he rested on the cold wall next to him to steady himself and turned to look at John.
    The scrawny man watched on with childlike fascination; excitement shimmered on his face. “Watch this, Wilfred,” he said. “This is the best bit.” With his long index finger, he tapped gently on the glass.
    A snap of her head, and Alice looked in the direction of the door. She then jumped to her feet; the chair shrieked as it skidded away from her and crashed to the ground. The loud slap of her hands as they slammed down on the tabletop echoed around the room like a mini thunderclap as she pushed herself to her feet. It took all of Wilfred’s concentration to hold onto his bladder.
    John smiled, pressed the intercom, and said, “Come to Dada.” Speakers in the room amplified his voice.
    Alice twisted her head with sharp movements as she searched for the source of the noise. Her long blonde hair swung out with every turn of her neck. Wilfred gasped when he saw the trails of blood that ran from her ears. When he looked down to see a dark red patch spread