by Wilde, J. M.
AS THEY RISE
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE EVA SERIES BOX SET (BOOKS 1-3)
First edition. October 6, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 J. M. Wilde.
Written by J. M. Wilde.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
WHILE WE FALL
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
BEFORE IT FADES
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
BONUS: INTERVIEW WITH EVA
BONUS: INTERVIEW WITH J.M. WILDE
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Chapter One
“I am not being eaten by a zombie in a fifties diner,” I declared to the room. No-one paid any attention, of course, they were all too busy holding the door closed. As was I, but the insanity of the moment was starting to get to me. I felt like I was in an old horror movie, standing in the cramped back office wearing my bow tie, apron and paper hat while a real-life walker tried to bang the door down.
My arms trembled as I used all my strength to push against the thin timber door. Together, the four of us stood there, palms sweating, hearts pounding, hoping we were strong enough. Our faces contorted in fear and pain as the monster on the other side threw her rotting body against us again and again.
I didn’t understand how any of it could be happening. Less than twenty-four hours before, my biggest problem in life involved boy trouble and commitment issues, and now I was about to be torn to shreds by some infected creep, in my work uniform, no less.
The bell rang again.
Another one had come for us.
The night before...
Jo and I sat alone at the bar while the bartenders collected all the empty glasses and bottles. Friday night in Melbourne meant packed streets as everyone flocked to cafes, pubs and clubs, but it was almost two in the morning and all the buzz had slowly died down.
“I hope Ben’s okay,” Jo said. “He seemed a bit drunk, and we have to open the diner in the morning.” Ben had taken a taxi home after the band finished, his words slurring and eyes hooded as he stumbled onto the street.
I noticed something on the television that sat propped on the wall over the bar. The words Breaking News flashed across the screen, holding my attention. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed news reader greeted the viewers before launching into the breaking story:
“Fears grow in Sydney after an outbreak of a suspicious viral infection at Trinity Hospital, leaving twenty dead and hundreds more infected. Early reports state the virus has also been detected at multiple locations around the city, including tonight’s NRL match at Sydney Stadium and the Bondi Music Festival. Attempts to quarantine the events have failed as panicked crowds flee the area.”
I watched the screen as unsteady phone footage played, showing scenes that made me shudder. Riots filled the streets of Sydney, with dozens of people bleeding and running frantically across the screen. A caption slid across the bottom of the picture:
New reports of additional outbreaks in Brisbane and Darwin.
“Ugh, what’s taking him so long?” Jo moaned as she leaned back on the bar, drawing my attention away from the television. She was referring to Wyatt, who worked with us at a fifties themed diner and whose band we had come to see at the pub. He was backstage, packing up the last of the instruments and equipment. “We’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes!”
I was trying to be patient, but during a break from their show, Wyatt had asked me to stay behind so he could talk to me. I had been waiting anxiously for closing time ever since. With the pub empty, it was quiet enough for me to think clearly, and I had started to get nervous.
“You don’t have to stay, you know.” I nudged Jo with my shoulder. “I’ll see you at work in the morning, bright and early. You’ll be the first to know everything. If anything happens, that is.”
Jo glared at me, and for a moment I thought I had offended her. “Absolutely not!” she said. “I have been waiting for this just as long as you have. I’m not waiting until tomorrow for anything!”
I laughed. “Okay, okay. Calm down.”
“No! I will not calm down!” she said. She was trying her best to act serious, but her lips pulled up into a slight smile. “What’s he trying to do? He asks you to wait here for him so he can talk to you, then leaves you hanging. Who does he think he is?”
Jo was prone to being overprotective, especially when it came to me.
“You know what I say?” Jo asked, putting her hands on her hips dramatically.
“What do you say?” I asked, entertained by her antics.
“I say you march back there and go get him! Go make your moment happen!”
I laughed, but I couldn’t help but think she had a point.
“No, I’m serious,” she said. “Maybe he’s waiting for you. I bet he’s sprawled out on the dressing room couch, waiting for you to come and ravish him.”
That thought made me both excited and anxious. I looked over at the front door of the pub, wondering if I should leave. I started to feel sick with nerves.
Jo jumped off the barstool and stared at the stage. “Or maybe he’s just taking his sweet time!” she yelled, and I hoped Wyatt didn’t hear her. It occurred to me that Jo might have been drunker than I thought.
Suddenly, she spun around, leaned over the other side of the bar and threw up, confirming my suspicions. We had both been old enough to drink for almost a year, but she still hadn’t learned when her limit was. I stood up to help her, holding her flame red hair back as she lurched forward again, making a mess on the floor.
“Clearly Ben isn’t the only one who had a few too many drinks tonight,” I sighed as I rubbed her back. “Come on, you can stay at my place.”
Jo sat up, wiped her mouth and shook her head.
“No!” she protested. “Not until you get your butt back there and have your freaking moment!”
And with that, she was back over the bar again. The bartender appeared by her side, muttering something to himself. “I’ll call a taxi and get her a bucket,” he said sternly. “You go do whatever it is she’s nagging you to do.” He was obviously irritated, so I didn’t want to argue.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be right back, Jo.”
I walked across the deserted dance floor, climbed onto the stage and disappeared behind the curtain. Turning into the hallway, I heard voices coming from one of the adjoining rooms. I recognised Wyatt’s voice, and from the conversation, I gathered he was talking to one of his bandmates. I heard the click of the door as it opened and Wyatt stepped out, with his drummer right behind him.
“Eva,” he said, surprise in his voice.
“Hey,” I said, waving awkwardly.
“I’ll see ya later, man,” his friend said before passing me and disappearing around the corner, leaving Wyatt and I alone in the hallway.
“Um, Jo’s really sick,” I said, pushing my dark hair behind my ear. “I’m gonna take her home.”
“Oh, okay,” he said. I thought I saw disappointment in his eyes, but I couldn’t be sure. “Can I walk you to a taxi?”
I nodded. “Sure.” We started walking back towards the stage in painful silence. Just as I reached out to open the curtain, he took my hand.
“Eva, wait,” he said. I turned to face him, my heart racing in my chest as I waited for him to continue. “I need to say something,” he said. I felt my heart leap into my throat, and I hoped he was about to say what I’d wanted him to say to me since we met two years earlier. He took a deep breath, before launching into a heartfelt confession. “We’ve been friends for a long time now, and I know what I’m about to say could jeopardize that. But I can’t hold it back anymore.”
To my surprise, I started to panic. But it was too late, he had already started saying the words.
“I like you, Eva,” he said, his shoulders relaxing as he said the words, like he had been holding them in forever. “I think you’re smart, and fun, and gorgeous ...” he paused again, looking me in the eyes. “And I was wondering if I could take you to dinner tomorrow night?”
I looked up at him, into his hopeful eyes, and suddenly I wasn’t sure what I should do. My heart was screaming yes, but my mind was going over all the things that could go wrong. Our friendship could be ruined; I could lose myself, my independence; I could get my heart broken into a thousand pieces. I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself at a loss for words. I felt so confused. I had wanted this moment—my moment, as Jo called it—to come for two years, but now that it had arrived, all I could think about was what I could lose.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, unable to believe what I was saying. My eyes dropped to the floor. “I thought I wanted this, but now I’m not so sure if it’s a good idea.” I gently pulled my hand away from his, hoping he would understand. We stood quietly for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
“It’s okay,” he said, but his voice was tinged with sadness. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. I felt terrible for hurting him, and I was already mentally cursing myself for being such a coward. I had to get out of there.
“I have to go,” I said before pushing through the curtain and jumping off the stage.
Jo was slumped over the bar while the bartender mopped up her vomit. It was not a pretty sight. “Jo, honey,” I said when I reached her. I pushed a strand of hair out of her face as I spoke. “Are you okay?”
“Eva!” Jo sprang up, suddenly wide awake. “How’d it go? Did you have your moment?”
“Not exactly,” I sighed as I helped her off the stool. “I’ll explain when we get home. Let’s go.”
I helped her walk as we hurried out of the bar and onto the street. I glanced over my shoulder just as Wyatt emerged from behind the curtain and stepped down from the stage, his head hanging down the entire time. Just then, three police cars and two ambulances sped past, their sirens blaring, making Jo and I jump in fright.
I was so distracted by the flurry of lights and sirens that I didn’t notice that a taxi had pulled up to the curb in front of us.
“Hey!” the driver called. “You girls need a taxi or what?”
“Yes,” I said as I leaned down to peer through the window. I opened the back passenger door and helped Jo inside, climbing in after her. I didn’t look back as we drove away, unable to bear the sight of Wyatt again.
“You ladies shouldn’t be out on the street this late,” the driver said, glancing back at us as he drove. “There’s somethin’ big goin’ down in the city.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I thought back to the news report I had seen earlier, and hoped whatever had happened in Sydney hadn’t reached Melbourne.
“Dunno,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces on the radio. No-one really seems to know what’s happening, but it ain’t good.”
Chapter Two
I woke up to the hot sun shining through my window and onto my bed. My eyes struggled to open, my mascara from the night before caking them together like glue. I drove my face into the pillow, wishing I didn’t have to go to work. I had tossed and turned all night, my sleep tainted by nightmares. I dreamt about the confronting scenes I had seen on the television in the pub, my head filled with the sounds of sirens and screams.
Letting out a long, dramatic groan, I reached my hand down the side of the bed and searched around for my phone. I picked it up and held the screen close to my still-adjusting eyes, gasping when I saw the time. I was already thirty minutes late for work. I jumped out of bed and ran into the living room to check if Jo was still on the couch, but she was gone.
“Jo?” I called as I walked into the kitchen, spotting a note on the table.
Thanks for looking after me. Sorry about your non-moment. Stay home today if you like.
I slid my thumb over my phone to unlock it and started texting Jo to tell her I was on my way to the diner. I hit send, but all I saw was an error message. Hitting send again, the same message appeared. It took a few more tries before I noticed I had no signal, so I gave up and dropped my phone on the kitchen counter.
I pondered her suggestion to stay home. Wyatt would be working that day, too, and it had the potential to be a very awkward shift. But I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, and there was still a chance we could just stay friends. Or, I could be brave and tell him how I felt about him. Either way, I wouldn’t stop living my life over a guy, no matter who he was, so I decided to go.
In a rush, I tied my hair into a ponytail, pulled on a pair of jeans and my favourite motorcycle style boots, threw on a grey t-shirt and grabbed my satchel, throwing my makeup bag in there so I could put eyeliner on at work. Training to be a makeup artist, I never went anywhere without my little bag full of cosmetics and brushes. Sometimes Jo would let me practice different styles and special effects techniques on her during quiet days at the diner.
I stepped out of my apartment and slammed the door shut behind me, running down the stairs in a hurry. I only lived a few short blocks away from the diner, and if I kept a quick pace I could make it there in five minutes.
Walking out onto the street, I was surprised at how quiet it was. I could hear a few sirens in the distance, but everything else was silent. No cars, no people, no trams, and all the stores were still closed. It was deserted. At just past ten o’clock on a Saturday morning, most people in the neighbourhood would either be sleeping in or too hungover to move. But I had never seen it so quiet before.
I briefly wondered if what I saw on the news had broken out in Melbourne, too, but the footage of the Sydney outbreak showed rioting in the streets, and what I was seeing was entirely the opposite. Instead of riots, I felt like I was in the middle of a ghost town.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone behind me moaning loudly. I glan
ced over my shoulder to see a man with a limp, walking slowly about a block behind me. I assumed he was just one of the partygoers, just like the ones that came to the diner every Saturday looking for a hangover cure, but I picked up my pace anyway. I put my headphones in as I walked faster.
As I approached the diner, I noticed Wyatt’s car wasn’t parked in its usual spot down the street—as a bright yellow Chevy Impala, it was very easy to spot. Relief washed over me as I realised he must not have arrived yet.
I pulled the door to Daddy-O’s open, the bell above it jingling loudly. Ben and Jo were standing behind the counter, chatting while they wrapped napkins around cutlery in preparation for what was usually our busiest day. But I hoped the emptiness outside was a sign that I would be granted a quiet, easy shift. I was not in the mood to deal with customers.
Jo and Ben turned towards the door at the sound of the bell, smiling and waving as I entered.
“Hi,” I said, avoiding eye contact as I walked behind the counter and into the tiny back office, throwing my bag on the desk against the wall.
Meticulously created to be a perfect replica of a 1950’s diner, Daddy-O’s had everything from vintage art prints and posters to blue and white tiles on the floor that had been imported all the way from the USA. Dining booths lined the large windows that spanned the length of the L-shaped design, followed by two-seater tables in the middle of the restaurant area and stools along the counter. Behind the counter stood a large kitchen island, with plates and soda glasses on one side, a milkshake maker and food preparation area on the other, and a long stove, oven and fryer parallel to it. A swinging door to the right of the counter led into the back room, which held a storage area, an industrial dishwasher and a walk-in freezer. A sliding door to the left of the counter opened up into the office.
The office was reserved for staff to change into our uniforms; a white dress shirt, apron, black bow tie, and white hat. No bigger than a walk-in closet, the office had a tall row of shelving and a desk with a small television on it to the left, two chairs and a whiteboard to the right, and a mirror on the far wall.
Usually, fifties music would play through the diner. With speakers over the door outside, we would often play music to attract customers.