The Virus, Lee, Damien [summer beach reads .txt] 📗

after death. The brain is reactivated, and they become those things.”

Frank studied the sheet as she continued.

“The enemy spreads the virus within their camp. Before long, their army is decimated. Kind of like a Trojan horse.”

“Will you drop this shit?” Gus spat.

“So it’s spread by fluid?” Frank asked, ignoring the request.

“Bodily fluid.”

“So as long as we don’t jerk these guys off, we should be fine.” Gus snorted.

“Shut up, Gus. This whole thing started because of you.”

“Spit and blood.” Lisa continued. “It’s spread through a bite. It’s why you didn’t turn into one when Louise scratched you.”

Frank touched his cheek, tracing the scabbed flesh with his finger.

“Oh ho, you’ve had another woman, Frankie? Fuck me, you get about.”

Frank rounded on the gangland boss. “I won’t tell you again, Gus. Shut the fuck up. New bodyguard or not, I’ll still kill you.”

Gus looked around the room.

“Hang on, where is Lurch?”

“Tina?” Lisa scanned the room. “Where’s Tina?”

“I think I saw them run round the side,” Zielinski offered.

Razor’s eyes widened. “The little shits better not be in your truck!”

He bounded to the front of the building, followed by Frank and Lisa. They each found a gap in the barricaded window. Frank pressed his eye to the hole. The lorry was still there, surrounded by a sea of motionless corpses.

“Well, they didn’t steal our truck.”

“Thank fuck,” Gus muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. He leaned back against the wall until the sound of an engine roared nearby. “Oy! They’ve only gone and nicked my van!” He pressed his eye to the gap once again.

“You mean our van.” Zielinski said.

“Zip it, Polak. I don’t share with narks.”

Frank looked through the window. The prison van came into view as it trundled away towards the main road.

“I guess I’m not the only one who knows how to pick them,” Frank sneered, looking at Razor’s wide-eyed grimace.

“Yeah? Well, that’s our only transport out of here.”

“Relax, we’ve got food and guns in the lorry. We’ll be fine for now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“What happened to the soldier?” Lisa interrupted.

The men exchanged a glance as they stared at the open doorway nearby.

“Got any bullets left, sweet-cheeks?” Razor asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. You lead. If he looks at you with anything more than a smile, you shoot the bastard, got it?”

“I think I’ll manage.”

Lisa stepped forward, closely followed by the three men.

As they entered the room, they spotted the injured soldier. He sat in a small, wooden chair beside a powerless vending machine.

“What happened to the rest of you?” He glanced up with a dazed look in his eyes.

“The kids have hijacked the prison van,” Frank said. “And the fat twats were heading for one of those jets.”

“Can they fly?” the soldier murmured.

“Apparently, but I’m not sure whether they made it.”

“Elaine was bitten,” Lisa added. “She’ll be one of them soon.”

The soldier nodded, looking down at his bloodied hand. They all fell silent as the sound of a jet engine rumbled overhead.

“I guess they made it.”

 “Who cares? I told you there’s no chance they’ll reach America,” Gus snorted.

“America?” the soldier frowned.

“Yeah, Bonnie and Clyde are en route to the almighty USA.”

“Can it be done?” Frank added, eyeing the soldier for a response.

They watched him rub his forehead.

“Can they do it?”

The soldier nodded. “It’s possible,” he said, his unfocused eyes staring at the wall.

“What?” Gus spat.

The soldier blinked, breaking his reverie, and stared at the group. “Those are the new issue Hawk fighter jets. They’re state-of-the-art machines. They’ve got three fuel tanks, which I’d wager is more than enough to get them across the water.”

“But how can he fly one of those?” Zielinski asked.

“Jets these days practically fly themselves. They need little input from the pilot once they’re off the ground unless it’s performing a manoeuvre or firing a missile. As long as he has basic flying experience, he’d be able to pilot it.”

“But that’s good, right?” Zielinski suggested. “He can explain to the Americans there are still survivors and they’ll come and save us.”

Both Frank and Gus scoffed at the idea, shaking their heads at the Polish man. Lisa remained expressionless.

“But what about the virus?” she asked after the indignant muttering had ceased.

“What about it?”

“He’s flying with Elaine! She’s infected. What if they do make it across?”

The group fell silent as the prospect started to dawn on them. They all remained still, lost in thought until the soldier voiced their concerns.

“Then what’s left of the world is going to die.”

Epilogue

Tyler Lincoln sucked on the Marlboro Light clasped between his lips. He looked around at the countless jets situated around the runway. His aircraft, The Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor, absorbed the sun’s powerful rays in its sleek, grey body. The black-tinted cockpit concealed the interior, but Tyler knew the layout like the palm of his hand.

He took another drag of the cigarette, contemplating the chaos that the rest of the world had fallen into. The US military’s decision not to respond to the outbreak had left him shell-shocked. But the more he considered it, the more thankful he was that he didn’t have to fly overseas to try to quell it. The prospect of leaving his family behind was too much to bear, yet the idea of them succumbing to the virus was even worse. Despite his reservations, he was happy to contribute towards defending US airspace.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke through his nose and flicked the cigarette butt. He was grinding the smouldering remains beneath his boot when hurried footsteps approached. He turned in time to see his long-time friend, Eddy Frankland, running towards him.

“C’mon, Lincoln, wheels up!” he yelled as he rushed past.

Tyler wasted