The Dying & The Dead 1: Post Apocalyptic Survival Read Free Page A

children and towered over them. Most people, when speaking to
children, crouched to their level. Charles just stood above them, his pickaxe
hanging from his back, his bulky frame blotting out the sky.  Charles studied
the children for seconds that seemed to drag out. He looked especially
interested in Eric.
     
    “Your
boy’s mask is damaged,” he said. He crouched beside Dale. “You better get him
inside, pronto, before it breaks completely. Or better still, maybe I should
fix it now? Hold your breath, little boy. We don’t want any of those nasty bugs
getting in.”
     
    He
reached forward and ripped the mask from Eric’s face. The boy’s cheeks bulged
as he held the air in. Thank god he had the presence of mind to pretend to hold
his breath. Anything other action would have given him away.  Stephanie had
taught him well.
     
    Charles
fiddled with the straps of Eric’s mask, puzzling over it as if it were a Rubix
cube. Eric’s face turned red as he held in air under the pretence that he
needed it, that he couldn’t breathe the air without a mask. His cheeks puffed
out more, and blood seeped through them and coloured them crimson.
     
    Come
on ,
thought Dale. He watched Charles mess around with the mask. Hurry up, you
bastard.
     
    Eric
shifted uncomfortably and his cheeks grew even redder. He looked on the verge
of breathing, and if that happened, the game was done. Charles would figure out
that Eric was immune, or he would expect the boy to become infected. Either
way, it would involve a trip to the Dome.
     
     Finally
Charles seemed satisfied with the mask. He reached out to hand it across to
Eric. Dale felt his pulse thud. Eric stuck his hand out for his mask, but at
the last second Charles yanked it away.
     
    “Almost
there. Just one more fix thing to fix.”
     
    Eric’s
face was a balloon ready to pop, and he squirmed as though he were desperate
for the toilet. As his agitation increased, so did Dale’s heartrate. Eric
looked at Stephanie with wide, pleading eyes. He was about to give up and take
a breath.
     
    Just
in time, Charles handed back the mask and strapped it to the boy’s face. Eric
took deep, devouring breaths and then slumped against his mother.
     
    Well
done ,
thought Dale. You did good, lad.
     
    Charles
looked at Stephanie.
     
    “No
reaction? I have to say, I’m a little surprised. Your son nearly filled his
lungs with infected air, and in a few hours his goodnight kiss on mummy’s cheek
could have turned into a chunk of her neck. You don’t seem too upset about it.”
     
    Dale
didn’t know what to say, and it seemed Stephanie felt the same way.
     
    “Still,
I guess the masks don’t help, do they?” Charles said. “You might be beside
yourself, for all I know. It’s hard to read a person’s feelings when they wear
a mask.”
     
    There
was a thud beside them. Dale turned and saw Luna on the floor. The girl’s head
jerked back and banged against the ground, and her body started to jerk
violently. She looked as if she was being zapped by invisible cattle-prods.
     
    Oh
shit ,
Dale thought. Not now.
     
    Charles
rubbed his head. He stood over the girl and watched her spasm. Stephanie got to
her knees. She took off her cardigan and cushioned it under the girl’s head.
Dale expected her to be worried, but she moved with the deliberate calm of a
nurse.
     
    “This
looks to be an epileptic fit,” said Charles, amusement in his voice. “What to
do, what to do? If my knowledge is right, you need to check she hasn’t
swallowed her tongue. To do that you’d need to take off her mask, but the girl
doesn’t seem to be in the state of mind to hold her breath. Oh my.”
     
    Since
they had come to live with him, Dale had only ever seen Luna had one fit. She
used to have them all the time, Stephanie had told him, but they were getting
fewer and she hoped she was growing out of them. That didn’t help now, though.
It was the worst possible time for it to