Read Rise of the Plague (Book 0): The Sickness (Monte's Story) for Free Online Page B

over, being all alone sucks. Even if we aren’t friends and can hardly stand the sight of one and other, being with someone, at least a little familiar, feels better than being all alone, especially with all this craziness that’s going on.

FEAR
    I’m mostly quiet, sitting next to Annabelle, as the bus makes its way onto the highway. Annabelle is doing most of the talking, telling me about what happened in her house this morning, like we are old friends. I still have my guard up, I’ve gone through too much taunting at her hands to completely open up to her. From the sound of it, it seems like her morning had been quite similar to mine. We are a few miles outside of our hometown of Port Steward, in Bayberry Hollow—the next town up, when I overhear a man talking about his experience.
    “I read on the internet, before I lost cell service, that they’re saying it’s a terrorist attack,” the guy began. “Some kind of bio-chemical weapon and that it can go airborne at any time. Our town has gone to shit, if it’s not the ones with the disease, than it’s the rioters that are looting and destroying The Port. We won’t be coming back, the whole town will be shut down for months or even years and you know what else—” he pauses looking up the aisle.
    A very old lady, about four rows ahead, began coughing—more like hacking, loud and uncontrollably. Those around her spread out all over the bus trying to get as far away from the coughing woman as possible.
    “Pull over this lady is sick,” a guy not much older than me yells to the driver.
    Soon others shout for the driver to pull over as well. It doesn’t take long before he surrenders to their requests and pulls the bus to the side of the road, just outside of the downtown area. The soldier from the front of the bus makes his way to the woman—who has now stopped coughing—and escorts her off the bus.
    Annabelle and I look out the half open window on our side and see the soldier walk the woman a few feet away from the bus. He yells at her to show him where her bite is and to tell him when it happened. The woman maintains that she has no bites, but suffers from emphysema. He doesn’t look like he believes her as he yanks up her peach, satin sleeves and tugs at her blouse before lifting her polyester skirt. The elderly woman looks to be in her seventies or so. She is so offended by the soldier’s behavior that she screams and slaps him with a soft hand. He grabs her arm and cruelly yanks her behind a section of overgrown bushes. A few seconds later, a lone gunshot rings out.
    I shudder at the sound and look at Annabelle with terrified eyes. That soldier killed that poor woman. She probably wasn’t even bitten. We look back out waiting for the soldier to return, but it feels like it’s taking forever. He finally emerges, alone. Wild-eyed and out of breath, he boards the bus and takes his seat.
    I’ve seen that wild look that is on his face before—but on my dad. It’s the look of a madman. This guy is a lunatic. He’s not like the other soldiers or like the Colonel, no, he’s like five seconds from a psychotic break down.
    “Was she bitten?” The driver asks, closing the door.
    “No, I checked her whole body, no bites. But she was going to turn, I could tell. She had the disease. Yeah, I’m sure of it. She must have got it some other way. Let's move out,” the soldier replies.
    “Are you sure she really had it? I mean, if there wasn’t a bite, than how can you know for sure?” The driver mentions casually as he pulls away from the curb.
    “I’m sure,” the soldier says in a stern tone, leaning back in his seat.
    As we pull down the road, I crane my neck, leaning over Annabelle, staring at the overgrowth. Before it’s out of sight, I catch sight of the elderly woman lying on her stomach. Her clothes have been taken off and tossed onto her back.
    Closing my eyes, I feel like my own sanity hanging on by a frayed shoelace. When that paranoid jerk