The Last Five Days: The Complete Novel: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Read Free Page A

snap.
    "I'm not an angry person."
    And I wasn't a violent person, Winston thought.
    "I need to tell someone what's going on inside of me. As much as I hate the bastard, Salk needs to know for the future." Byrd stopped to wipe her nose again. "Can you lend an ear for a little while?"
    Winston looked at his watch. "I think I can spare a few minutes." He smiled.
    Byrd returned the favor. "I think I'll take that cup of coffee now, if you are still offering."
    As Winston left to get coffee, he moved far right to avoid Vera's body. A shot to the head put the dead down for good...up to that point. Winston didn't want to take any chances. "She felt hot, like fever hot," he said, pouring coffee. "Aren't you supposed to be cold when you're dead?"
    "In theory. But then again, the dead don't typically burst through doors and try to rip you apart."
    Winston glanced down. A pool of blood wrapped itself around Vera's head. Thick, sticky liquid clung to her brown hair like mud. A bluish-green streak accented with purple formed a halo effect around Vera's neck. Winston dropped to a knee to get a closer look.
    "What are you doing?" Byrd stood up and walked toward Winston.
    "See this?" He pointed to Vera's neck.
    Byrd bent down. "Ligature marks."
    Winston moved in closer. "Looks like someone wrapped a chain around Vera's neck."
    "The dead don't do that. There's no brain function. Nothing to tell the body to pick up a chain and strangle someone."
    Gooseflesh popped up on Winston's arms. The hair stood as though he had been shocked with electricity. The boy on the bike. He wasn't dead. I killed a boy.
    "What's wrong? Did she move?" Byrd took a few steps back.
    Winston used the stool for support and got to his feet. A dull ache in both knees was new. Winston hit the gym at least three times a week and did yoga on the weekends with Marianna. He hardly ever had pain. He stood against the bar waiting for the pain to pass. "She didn't move. I just can't believe that on top of fighting the dead, we have to worry about the living."
    "You said you think rage is the final stage. Maybe she encountered someone in the final stage. Maybe the same person who put an ax in Luther's head."
    "Maybe." The boy was sick. He was in the final stage. I had to shoot him.
    Byrd took a seat at the booth. "Where's my coffee?" She smiled.
    Winston sat down and slid a mug in front of Byrd. He waited for her to sip the coffee and then said, "I shot my neighbor in the head this morning."
    Byrd lowered the mug. "You did him a favor."
    Did him a favor? Winston's thoughts shifted to his wife. Was she in pain? Did he need to do her a favor too?
    "You have to understand they are not people any longer. Not your friends. Not your coworkers." Dr. Byrd sipped coffee. "And not your wife."
    "Do you think she is suffering?"
    "If she's dead, she can't feel pain. But you are suffering by hanging on to the hope you can save her. She's gone."
    "You don't know for sure. This virus has never been seen before. I watched this show on National Geographic about the pufferfish. Something about a poison that makes it look like you're dead." Winston brought the mug to his lips.
    "And then you die. It's called Tetrodotoxin, and this is nothing like it. This doesn't paralyze you. It's the opposite. It makes every ounce of physiology hypersensitive."
    Winston placed the mug on the table. "Like caffeine?"
    "Like ungodly amounts of caffeine. For instance, this coffee; I can tell the cream is on the verge of going bad."
    Winston took another sip. "Tastes fine to me."
    "Exactly my point. It's not going to make you sick yet, but it's spoiling. It's like that with everything. The egg salad sandwich was the last thing I ate. My palate deconstructed every ingredient. The sandwich was good, but Luther didn't measure the paprika. It was too much. Normally, I would have never known that, and I didn't pay it any mind until I realized I was sick."
    "So, it screws up your taste buds?"
    Byrd sat for a moment before