Dead Days (Book 1): Mike Read Online Free Page A

waterborne, however it can be transmitted by contact with the infected, specifically via bodily fluids.  The most common source of infection we’ve seen is from bites.  Now, as to whether people are being eaten I think that is probably a little far-fetched based on the…ah…”
    He takes a long drink and wipes the perspiration from his forehead.
    “The government has brought in various branches of the military to assist the police in the apprehension and containment of those infected, and we believe we will have managed to diffuse the current situation inside 24 hours.”
    Another furore from the press, he raises his voice to be heard.
    “I MUST STRESS, that people should no longer seek help at hospitals within the city as these areas have now become inundated with those in need of treatment.  If you or someone in your family has been bitten, treat the injury as best you can at home and quarantine yourself.  We are sending search and rescue sweep teams through every borough so leave a note on your front door if you or your household have been infected, and someone will come to you.  Avoid the city centre, stay at home and do not attempt to reach friends and family in other parts of the city.  That is all, thank you.”  He leaves the podium so fast that he’s almost running, heckled by dozens of shouted questions, requests for clarification and a considerable number of jeers.  As the feed cuts back to the studio I flick off the T.V.
     
    Shit
     
    Things are getting worse.  People are dying, lots of people and those that aren’t are being turned into deranged cannibals.  The odds of me reaching Tess are getting longer by the minute, and despite what Mr Henshaw says, he looks like a man who knows that pretty soon, what he says won’t matter.
     
    I have to get moving.  I head out of Alan’s flat (through the front door this time, I’d rather avoid looking at him again if possible) but before I get out of the building I realise it’d probably be wise to grab something I can defend myself with.  Unfortunately, the only weapon I have any experience with is a kettle, and that somehow seems impractical.
          I go back into Alan’s kitchen and search his cabinets.  I find his tool box, and after some consideration, select a sturdy-looking claw hammer.  As an afterthought, I also take a large kitchen knife out of the rack by the sink. I feel a little silly now, carrying these, but I’d rather look like a dick then be eaten alive by infected crazies.  I head out into the street and spot Alan’s van.  As I walk towards it I see a curtain twitch.  A middle age woman, still in a dressing gown is watching me suspiciously and as I turn towards her she hurriedly pulls the curtain across.
     
    There’s worse out than me today love.
     
    I open the door to the van and climb inside.  The doors are stuffed with old pamphlets and magazines, I’m pretty sure I see a porn mag in there which makes me feel weirder than anything else I’ve seen today.
     
    Ol’ Alan liked to get his jollies on the move it seems. 
     
    The absurdity of this idea crashes over me in a wave and I start to laugh, hysterically until the tears are streaming down my face and I’m slapping my hand on the dashboard.  The thought of cheerful, harmless old Alan jacking his wrinkly old crank to Mayfair on a Sunday afternoon drive is blackly funny and I can’t help myself.  The thought of seeing him in the hallway and knowing he-
     
    I stop laughing abruptly.  I won’t be seeing him in the hallway, today or any other day.  I won’t be seeing him because Alan is lying on his patio with his head smashed to pieces and his brains drying in the sun.
          I put my head in my hands and try to keep from shaking.  Moments ago I felt alright, but now the gravity of what I’ve done rolls over me and I can’t breathe.  Not just because I feel guilty, and I do feel guilty, but because I may have to do it again to someone else.