The Eva Series Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Wilde, J. M.

  “I thought I gave you the day off?” Jo asked as she followed me into the office.

  “I need the money,” I replied, buttoning up my shirt and pulling my apron over my head. “Rent is due at the end of the week. Besides, I can’t avoid him. May as well get the awkwardness over with now.”

  “You can still change your mind, you know,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I had told her everything the moment we arrived back at my apartment the night before, and she couldn’t believe I had turned Wyatt down. She thought I was running from love, and maybe she was right.

  “I know,” I said. “I just freaked out, that’s all.”

  “Okay.” She smiled weakly. “I’ll see you out there,” she said before disappearing back into the diner, leaving me to clip on my cheesy bow tie and little boat-shaped cap.

  Looking at myself in the mirror, I rolled my eyes. I had always felt silly putting on the quirky uniform, but I had so much fun working in the diner with my friends, listening to old music and pretending we were in a simpler time that it didn’t matter how ridiculous we all looked.

  I began searching through my makeup bag, pushing past my brushes and a few special effects products to pull out the eyeliner. Popping the lid off, I leaned in close to the mirror, but stopped when I saw Wyatt standing behind me in the reflection. I must have been too distracted to hear the bell jingle.

  “Hey,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, keeping his distance from me.

  My heart started to beat faster, and it felt like hundreds of butterflies had been set free in my stomach. “Hi,” I said as I continued drawing on my eyeliner. I noticed my hand was trembling with nerves, so I quickly finished and threw the pencil back in my bag.

  “Pretty quiet out there today,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “It’s weird.”

  He nodded and gave me a slight smile in response, but his eyes were filled with sadness. Without saying anything more, he pulled an apron over his head, pinned on the bow tie and hat, and walked out of the room. I couldn’t blame him for being standoffish after I rejected him. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the diner to start my shift, trying to muster the courage I needed to talk to him. Even though there were only the four of us in the diner, the tension was thick.

  Wyatt reeked of heartbreak, while Jo smothered me with over-the-top kindness and Ben tried to cheer everyone up with jokes and banter. In a word, it was awkward. It was obvious that they felt sorry for Wyatt.

  When my parents died a year earlier, I became very familiar with pity. I knew exactly what it looked like, complete with sympathetic frowns and uncomfortable silences. But nothing compared to the look in the eyes of someone who feels sorry for you.

  It’s a swirling mixture of commiseration, sorrow, and relief. Relief that it’s not them going through something so terrible, so tragic. I swore I would never see myself in the reflection of those melancholy eyes again. And I hated that Jo and Ben were looking at Wyatt like that because of something I did.

  Chapter Three

  I wanted to clear my head before speaking to Wyatt, so I volunteered to take the rubbish out to the dumpsters, which sat in the alleyway at the end of the block.

  Picking up two full bags of garbage from the bins in the kitchen, I carried them out into the stairwell, avoiding all eye contact on my way past Wyatt, Jo and Ben.

  Grey and cold, with concrete stairs leading down into the dark basement, the stairwell had always creeped me out, so I usually avoided the task of rubbish removal. But I needed a few minutes alone to build my confidence before laying my heart out on the line, and I hoped some fresh air would help me find the right words.

  Two shopping trolleys sat on the concrete landing by the double doors that opened up onto the street. I threw the bags into one of the trolleys and pushed through the doors, light filling the stairwell as I made my way outside.

  Closing the doors behind me, I noticed how empty the streets still were, even though it was almost midday. I could only see one man, far off in the distance, who stood staring at a brick wall, swaying back and forth. As I began pushing the trolley down the hill, I wondered if he was the same drunk I had seen earlier that morning. I shrugged it off, relieved that it was such a quiet day.

  Taking the rubbish out wasn’t the most glamorous of chores, but there was one aspect that I loved about it. A wide smile spread across my face as I started running down the street, pushing the trolley as fast as I could. In one swift movement, I jumped onto the back of the cart and closed my eyes, feeling the wind on my face as I sped down the hill. My apron flapped against my sides as the trolley bumped along the empty sidewalk, and I felt as though I was flying.

  After a few seconds of exhilaration, I opened my eyes and jumped back onto the ground, skidding to a stop just in time to turn into the alley and pull up alongside an open dumpster.

  Lifting the bags over my shoulder, I flipped them into the dumpster one at a time, scrunching my nose at the smell of it.

  I started making my way back towards the diner, pulling the trolley behind me with one arm, when I heard a groan coming from behind me.

  I paused and turned around, but saw nothing. I started walking again, only to hear it once more. A low, rattling growl echoed from within the dumpster. I had never heard anything like it before. Against by better judgement, I walked back over to investigate. I pinched my nose as I edged closer to peek inside, overwhelmed by the putrid stench.

  Just as I was about to peer inside, something jumped up in front of me, screeching and covered in garbage.

  I screamed in fright, jumping back with my heart pounding inside my chest. The figure rose to its feet unsteadily, and I realised it was a woman in ragged and torn clothes. Her face was a sickly grey, her skin sallow and glistening with sweat. I tried to contain my shock, but I could see she had been eating garbage.

  “Oh!” I spat, “You startled me.” I backed up against the trolley, watching her suspiciously.

  The woman let out another low growl as she continued chewing on something that made noisy crunching sounds when she bit down. A long, fleshy rodent tail fell out of the corner of her mouth, and it hung there as she struggled to climb out of the dumpster.

  I cupped my hands over my mouth at the sight of it, feeling sick to my stomach. Wanting nothing more than to get away from the fowl woman, I grabbed hold of the trolley and pushed it as I started running out of the alleyway.

  By the time I had made it back into the diner, I was dry heaving. Jo asked me what was wrong when she saw me running into the bathroom, but I couldn’t tell her what I had seen—I was too disgusted. I washed my hands furiously, wanting to get every inch of what I had just seen off of me.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “It just smells bad down there.”

  I walked back into the diner to see it was still deserted. “Still no customers?” I asked, trying to forget the sick feeling in my stomach.

  Ben and Wyatt stood by the fryer, cooking a batch of fries for themselves.

  “Not one,” Ben said as he looked out the window. “It’s strange.”

  I was about to ask Wyatt if I could speak to him alone when I saw a man stumbling across the road towards the diner. “Speak of the devil,” I said to the others as I walked over behind the counter to greet him. He pushed the door open and walked inside.

  “Hi.” I smiled as I handed him a menu. “Here for breakfast?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, his voice raspy. “I’m starving. Feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks.” He sat on one of the counter stools, perusing the menu.

  With bloodshot eyes and dry, cracked lips, he didn’t look well at all. Wearing a light blue pin-striped shirt with an assortment of stains down the front, and torn dark blue jeans, I figured he had been out all night.

  “Big night last night?” I asked, switching on the coffee machine.

  “I guess so,” he replied, his eyes glued to the menu. “I don’t really remember. I feel like s
hit.” He dropped the menu and rubbed his eyes with his palms. “I woke up in the gutter with some homeless dude trying to eat my leg. The freak tore right through my jeans. He bloody bit me.”

  My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

  I turned around to see Wyatt and Ben still standing by the fryer. Wyatt looked as surprised as I did, but I could see Ben was trying not to laugh.

  “Yeah,” the customer replied. “I had to kick him off me, then I got the hell outta there. He must’ve been drunk out of his mind.” He paused, picking up the menu again. “I’ll have the Big Breakfast. And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.” He handed the menu back casually, as though he hadn’t just escaped being someone’s Big Breakfast himself.

  I made the coffee while Wyatt and Ben put gloves on and started cooking the meal. “Did he pierce the skin when he bit you?” I asked as I carried the coffee over to him, but he didn’t answer. “Maybe you should go to a hospital.” Again, he didn’t answer. He just sat there, slumped over the counter with his head in his hands. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” he snapped. “I’m hungry. Just make my food.”

  I wanted to return his animosity, but after all the rude people I had served as a waitress, I had quickly learned to hold my tongue and shrug it off.

  Wyatt walked out of the back room holding frozen sausages, bacon and a beef patty and placed them on the stove. I saw the customer’s head snap up at the sound of the sizzling meat, and he sniffed the air wildly.

  I was surprised to notice that he looked even worse than he did when he walked in. His skin had fast become clammy and pale, and I could have sworn I heard a low growl coming from his throat as he watched the meat frying in the kitchen. He reminded me of the deranged woman in the dumpster.

  I walked behind the kitchen island and stood next to Wyatt and Ben, who were watching him suspiciously with sideways glances.

  “Something doesn’t feel right about this guy,” I whispered, eyeing the customer carefully. “Cook his food quickly then let’s get rid of him.”

  Wyatt nodded, flipping the bacon over as it crackled and sputtered.

  “I think he’s still drunk or something,” Ben said as he took freshly popped toast out of the toaster and threw it on a plate. I looked back towards the counter and saw the man had his head down in his arms again.

  Once the Big Breakfast was ready, I carried it over to him and placed it on the counter next to his head.

  “Sir, your breakfast is ready,” I said, taking a step back.

  He didn’t move.

  I leaned in closer to him, trying to see his face, but it was covered by his arm.

  “Excuse me, sir?” I said a little louder. “Your breakfast is here.”

  He still didn’t move.

  I watched him closely, waiting for the rise and fall of his back as he breathed.

  Nothing.

  Slowly, I reached my hand over the counter and gently tapped his shoulder.

  His head slipped off of his arm and onto the counter. I tapped his shoulder again, this time with more force. To my horror, he slid sideways off of the stool and slammed onto the tiled floor below, disappearing from my sight.

  But even with such a hard fall, he still didn’t wake up.

  I leaned over the counter and gasped at the sight of his lifeless body. His eyes were wide open and eerily white, but his lips were blue.

  He was dead.

  Chapter Four

  “Oh my god!” I cried as I stepped back, bumping into the kitchen island.

  “What’s wrong?” Jo asked as she walked out of the office.

  “Ben!” I called, motioning for him to come over. Knowing he was in training to be a paramedic, I hoped he would know what to do. “The customer, I think he’s ...” I trailed off, not wanting to say the words. “He’s not moving!”

  Ben ripped off his plastic gloves and ran around the outside of the counter to help. “Call an ambulance!” he said as he kneeled beside the unconscious man. “Wyatt, help me turn him onto his back.” He and Wyatt carefully laid the man flat on the floor before Ben checked for a pulse. Jo ran back into the office to get her phone, only to run back out again a second later in a panic.

  “I can’t get through,” she said, frantically tapping the screen of her iPhone. She dropped it on the counter and hurried back into the office to use the landline. “The landline is down too!” she called. “There isn’t even a dial tone!”

  “No pulse,” Ben said. He opened the man’s mouth as he prepared to perform CPR. He was about to begin mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when the customer’s eyes twitched rapidly.

  Wyatt and Ben moved back in shock.

  The man didn’t move. He just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling. Slowly, Ben leaned in closer, lowering his ear over the man’s mouth. “He’s still not breathing.”

  “I don’t feel a pulse,” Wyatt said, pressing his fingers against the man’s wrist.

  A gurgling sound emerged from the man’s mouth. Startled, Ben fell backwards—just as the man sputtered blood all over himself. His eyes darted around the room before he lifted his arms, reaching for Ben.

  Wyatt stood up, pulling Ben up with him, and together they backed away, watching in confusion. For a moment, we all just stood there, staring, not knowing what to do.

  “Guys?” Jo called from the office and we hurried over to see her. “I tried the landline and all of our mobiles, but there’s nothing. Just silence. I don’t understand.”

  Ben’s face was white with shock. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the man on the floor. “I mean, I know I haven’t completed training yet but ... he’s not breathing. He doesn’t have a pulse. He’s dead. But he’s moving.”

  A loud crash made us all jump in fright, and we turned to see the breakfast plate had disappeared from the counter. With my heart pounding, I walked closer, glancing over to see the man tearing into the bacon and sausages like an animal.

  I waved my hand at the others, motioning for them to come over. “He’s not dead,” I whispered. “He’s alive.” His head snapped up at the sound of my whispers, and I swallowed hard when I saw his face. Blotches of yellow and red had formed on his sickly grey skin, and tiny lesions had started to grow on his cheeks, neck and arms. “Sort of.”

  Munching loudly on the bacon, he grabbed hold of the stool and tried to lift himself up, glaring at me just as he had glared at the meat a few minutes earlier.

  The way he looked at me made my hairs stand on end. I knew I was in danger. I stepped back, pushing the others back in the process. My heart started beating faster as I saw his clouded eyes slowly appear over the counter. Another gurgling sound rumbled in his throat, growing into a growl.

  Jo, Ben, Wyatt and I backed into the office, sliding the door closed and turning the lock the moment we were inside.

  I turned to face them. “What the hell is going on?” I asked. “First, the streets are completely deserted. Then, I saw a woman eating a rat in the dumpster. And now this? That guy out there said someone tried to eat his leg!”

  Jo gasped. “Someone what?”

  A terrifying thought occurred to me as everything I had seen suddenly fell into place. “It’s the virus!”

  “What virus?” Wyatt asked.

  “I saw something last night in the pub,” I replied. “On TV. The news was saying something about an outbreak. It was in Sydney though, not here.”

  Their eyes widened at the word outbreak. Wyatt switched on the television as we cramped together in the tiny room, gathering around the screen. Flicking channels, we saw the same news story on every network. The words outbreak, virus, epidemic and national emergency were repeated over graphic footage—scenes of violence in the streets, police officers bleeding, men fighting, women and children running frantically. I felt sick to my stomach when I recognized one of the locations on the screen; a wealthy neighborhood that was only a ten minute drive from where we were. A map appeared, showing red dot
s over every capital city in Australia. One by one, the red dots grew bigger, depicting the incredibly fast rate at which the virus had spread. Adelaide, Hobart and Perth were the smallest, showing they were the least affected cities. Darwin and Brisbane were slightly larger, and Sydney and Melbourne were the most affected.

  “Oh no,” I moaned, unable to take my eyes off the screen.

  “Shhh!” hushed Ben, as the news reporter began to speak.

  “For anyone just joining us, there has been widespread panic down the east coast of Australia as a deadly outbreak of a still to be identified virus has left thousands of people dead and countless more infected. The rate of infected is expected to double within 24 hours. The cause of the outbreak is still unknown.”

  We all glanced at each other, eyebrows raised as we struggled to comprehend what we were hearing.

  “For anyone uninfected, you are advised to stay inside and lock your doors and windows. The infected have become severely deranged and extremely violent. They are said to be decomposing at a rapid rate.

  Before phone services were cut early this morning, emergency services had received over five thousand reports of infected-related violence in the Melbourne area alone. Do not approach the infected. I repeat; do not approach the infected.

  If you have been bitten, you are requested to go to the nearest hospital or medical centre for treatment as soon as possible.”

  More footage of anarchy followed. A Melbourne city street had been blocked off by police in an attempt to quarantine people.

  “That’s only a few blocks away!” Jo said.

  “Is that why it’s so deserted here today?” Ben asked. “Are we in a quarantined area?”

  “Wouldn’t we know if we were in quarantine?” I asked, feeling more confused than I ever had in my life. “Surely someone would tell us.”

  Wyatt nodded at the television. “Maybe it’s not quarantine.”

  We listened as the reporter continued to speak.

  “Late this morning, an exclusion zone was declared in the centre of Melbourne, with police and military securing the area to protect the outer suburbs.