This Plague of Days Season One (The Zombie Apocalypse Serial Book 1) by Chute Robert Chazz

Author:Chute, Robert Chazz [Chute, Robert Chazz]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Ex Parte Press
Published: 2014-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

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Dr. Craig Sinjin-Smythe ran from the thunder. The pounding of thousands of feet came first. Then a shout followed by screams. Then more screams until the shrieks built to an unholy din.

The doctor broke into an office building off Maiden Lane. He noted there was a North Face store nearby. If all went according to plan, that could prove useful. Alarms sounded, but security forces were spread far too thinly for him to worry about the police. But Interpol did worry Sinjin-Smythe. Since the compromise of the isolation unit at Cambridge, undoubtedly he would shoulder the blame.

His dentist, Dr. Neil McInerney, operated a clinic in a second floor suite of the building. From his vantage point, the running crowds below were far too close. The uninfected were driven from their homes by the infected and run to ground, rabid hounds on timid foxes.

Sinjin-Smythe’s cell battery flashed low and he was grateful to find that the power was still on. He’d grabbed his charger in his rush out of his office, but he hadn’t dared to put his phone’s battery back in place until he was miles away from the explosion.

He also had a memory stick with all the research files he had on the Sutr Virus. If Interpol showed up, he might have to bargain with that to live. He reasoned he was too valuable to jail. But it wasn’t beyond the authorities to put him back to work, jailed in a lab.

He’d been trying to call his fiancée for hours, always on the move and far from the ruins of his laboratory and not daring to go home. If Interpol had Ava, they would answer and tell him to give himself up for questioning. It was reasonable to assume the love of his life, Ava Keres, was dead of the virus.

He tried calling her again from the dentist’s phone. He hadn’t had much hope since the landlines were usually clogged. Not so, now. It rang.

The landline worked, but he got Ava’s voicemail: “I’m not available to take your call right now. I’m probably in the loo or handling some desperately dangerous chemicals so if you could leave a message, that would be brilliant. Or, if you’re calling to sell me something, please do kill yourself. Cheers!”

As the mob careened by below him, he put one hand over his other ear to block out the screams.

Sinjin-Smythe left a voice message on her phone: “Darling, if you get this message, I want you to know that I still love you and whatever is going on, we can work it out somehow. I’m sorry if I did something which would make you…which would make this happen. The lab’s gone red, Ava. You and I are the only ones who got out. The powers that be will have questions.

“I’m going to turn my phone on and off sporadically because I want to talk to you before I talk to Interpol. If you can get this message, you can call me. Call me, Ava.

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