Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City by M.W. Duncan

Author:M.W. Duncan [Duncan, M.W.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: zombies
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2014-11-04T05:00:00+00:00

***

Mr. Shabir returned the phone to his pocket. ‘Mr. Magarth, the helicopter is delayed. They’re waiting for a break in the current weather conditions. They expect it shortly before fifteen-hundred hours.’

‘Good. That’s good.’ Magarth scratched at his stubble-covered cheeks. ‘I was worried it might not come.’

Shabir pushed himself away from the desk. He let the wheeled-chair run out of inertia. ‘If arrival-time changes, I’ll send for you.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘I’ll be in the canteen.’

‘Okay, the canteen.’ Shabir laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. ‘One last thing. Watch what you say around others. Some of our new staff don’t yet know what we’re dealing with. I wouldn’t want panic before we’ve even started.’

Alone at the office door, Magarth stared after Shabir. Things would work out. He’d catch his flight and never have to see this forsaken building again. Just to be sure, he grabbed a pen and scrap piece of paper, Tim Magarth – in canteen, and left it on the desk, on the very top of all the files.

A figure passed the door. He could not shake the feeling he had just been the subject of observation.

Magarth headed off to investigate. When he rounded the corner, an empty corridor greeted him, the elusive figure gone. The only evidence of life was the exit door in a nearby stairwell slipping shut. With a tentative pull, Magarth opened the door. A wave of frigid air surged in and had him catch his breath. The sound of footsteps reverberating on steel filled his ears. Leaning over the rail, he peered down. Only a single panel of light on each level illuminated the stairs. It was enough to navigate safely, but nothing more. He kept his vigil until the footfalls ceased. Nothing followed. Silence once again, as if he were chasing ghosts. Then below, from out of the darkness, that figure again.

‘Peterson,’ Magarth yelled, and the name echoed.

Peterson stared up. His eyes appeared black holes in the low light, and then was gone. The door, far below, slammed not a second later.

Magarth returned to the canteen. Why would Peterson be skulking about in the building? He should have been on the first helicopter, too. Could it be that he had missed the flight as well?

‘Miss your flight?’

Magarth jumped at the familiar voice. Solomon. ‘Delayed due to weather.’

‘Here.’ He pushed a mug of coffee under Magarth’s nose.

‘Thanks. So what have you been doing?’

Solomon shook a sachet of sugar into his own steaming mug. ‘Paperwork. Mountains of paperwork that I guarantee no one will bother to look at. There is a city riddled with infected out there and they want us to write reports. It’s rubbish, my friend.’ He stirred, and blew on his drink. ‘So what happened?’

‘I missed the first helicopter out. Just waiting for the weather to ease up for the second one to arrive.’

‘Bad luck. You heard anything from the new staff? They’re tight-lipped. You try to start up a conversation and get a brick wall.’

‘I saw Peterson a few minutes ago.’

‘What?’ Solomon’s eyes widened.

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