Rise of the Plague (Book 0): The Sickness (Monte's Story) by Rae Jeannie

Author:Rae, Jeannie [Rae, Jeannie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: zombies
Publisher: Cursed Pen Publishing
Published: 2012-12-08T08:00:00+00:00

DISPLACED

After the coldest shower of my life, I’m standing in a line where meals are being served from brown-paper sacks. A temporary spot, on the side of the highway is set up by the Red Cross. A line of eight, red and white canopies are situated for refugees to clean up and eat. There is a little grass beside the asphalt, before the ground cliffs off to the ocean on either side of the highway.

I had been so scared to take off my sweater before the shower—that I nearly turned back toward the barricade. The female guard at the decontamination area took a peek at my wrist and had hastily asked me about it.

I had lied again, telling her that I fell off my dirt bike, but she kept shouting out commands like, “turn around” and “wash with soap,” that I soon realized, she didn’t care. After all, it’s all scabbed up now, no redness. It looks like it happened days ago. I wish Haley could have made it, whatever that medicine was…it worked. The female guard had slapped a wristband on me, that included my name and the date and time I went through decontamination. Then she sprayed my clothes with an earwax smelling spray and gave them back to me to get

dressed.

I take a seat on the ground, eating a ham and plastic cheese sandwich from within the sack lunch provided at the food canopy. I don’t care that it tastes like crap. I am so hungry that it feels my stomach might begin devouring my organs on its own. I’m all alone on the grass beneath another canopy. I notice that most of the people aren’t bothering to stick around. They’re loading onto school busses parked on the highway. I think that I should probably get a move on too. Where am I going to go? I don’t have family nearby. Closest relative I have is two states over and is an aunt whose face I couldn’t spot if she sat down next to me.

My mom and dad have a friend not too far from here that stayed at our house for about six months, two years ago. He works as a porter at the diner my mom where my mom works—well…worked. He might take me in for a little while and help me contact Aunt Charlotte. It’s a long shot, but what else can I do? My mom hasn’t talked to her side of the family in years. They had a falling out –as Mom called it. Probably over my dad. All I can remember about Aunt Charlotte is that she used to give me candy every time I saw her, which was only maybe four or five times that come to mind. I had to be six or seven the last time I saw her.

“Excuse me, Miss,” An old woman offers a warm smile. “Are you displaced?”

“Um, I don’t think so. I’m fine,” I say rolling my shoulders. “Everything is in the right place.”

Why would

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