The Alpha Plague - Books 1 - 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Action Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  Because she only had one shoe on, Larissa stood at an angle when she looked back at Rhys and folded her arms across her chest.

  “So you would have left me to die?”

  Rhys didn’t respond.

  “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

  Rhys still didn’t respond.

  After she’d released a heavy sigh, Larissa shook her head. The fury seemed to leave her as her frame sagged.

  For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The thought of trying to rescue their son with her riding on her moral fucking high horse filled Rhys with dread, but at least now she knew the truth of it. Rhys saved her because of Flynn, not because he wanted to. She had no leverage with him. If she died, she died; he’d done his best.

  Unable to look at her any longer, Rhys looked back over the wide river at the burning city. Both the smell and taste of molten plastic hit him again as he stared at the black smoke.

  Rhys then leaned into the car and the rotten metallic reek of the diseased hit him with a hot uppercut. When he put his hand on the seat to lean in farther, the blood oozed up from the fabric and soaked in between his fingers. He grabbed the radio’s black microphone and pulled it toward him. The curly flex tugged back, and with his hands so slick with blood, Rhys had to grip harder to keep a hold of it. He pressed the button on the side.

  “Hello? Vicky?”

  The hiss of white noise answered him.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Hello?”

  Still nothing.

  “Fuck!”

  Rhys threw the microphone back into the car again. “Fuck it!” When he looked down at the ignition, he saw the keys had gone too. Not that he had any particular desire to drive the thing in its current state.

  Larissa chewed her bottom lip as she watched Rhys. “We need to do something. We need a plan. I don’t know about you, but there’s no way I’m going to stand around and wait for your new girlfriend to come back.”

  Rhys opened his mouth to reply but he stopped dead. The hairs on his arms rose as he looked in the direction he thought a sound had come from. Then he heard it again, louder than before and loaded with rage. The screams of the diseased.

  His heart kicked like it wanted free of his body and the back of his throat dried. “Oh fuck.”

  When he looked at Larissa, he saw her frozen to the spot with her mouth open. A shudder snapped through him. “We need to get the fuck out of here. Now!”

  Chapter 2

  Eighteen months ago

  The soft leather of the huge armchair creaked as Vicky sank into it. She may have had to spend time with her brothers and their obnoxious offspring, but at least she got to enjoy the luxury they always expected in their lives.

  The waiting room served just four private rooms, unlike the areas used by the general public, which catered for the rest of the large hospital. Instead of rows of seats placed so close together you rubbed shoulders with your neighbour, each seat in this waiting room had a clearance of at least one metre on either side. Even with the extra space, Vicky still decided to sit on the opposite side of the room. The last time she’d been in a room with her brothers, they’d argued for about an hour before they finally decided she should be the one to look after their mother as her health declined. They both had families, so of course Vicky had to do it. Never mind that she couldn’t stand the bitch.

  One other family huddled in the corner; a man and two young boys. The dad hugged the boys as the three of them cried quietly. If Vicky were to guess, she’d assume the mother of those boys didn’t have long left. A pang of grief twisted her heart. The kids seemed so young and the dad so lost.

  The shrill call of Austin, Mike’s boy, sent needles into Vicky’s ears and snapped her entire body rigid. The dad and the boys in the corner barely noticed it. At least the overwhelming grief had numbed them to the point where the precocious little shits didn’t bother them. Not that Austin could do much about the noise. At four years old, he could hardly be expected to manage his behaviour. Mike should take that responsibility.

  Mike called across the room to Vicky. “What’s wrong with you?”

  When Vicky looked up, her face ached from her hard frown. “Huh?”

  “You’re looking at my boy like he’s an animal.”

  Vicky’s cheeks flushed hot when she looked at the family in the corner. Their faces limp with grief, they stared in shock at the interaction between her and her kid brother. A child they could seemingly ignore, but fully grown adults … they should know better.

  A deep sigh and Vicky shook her head before she looked down at her lap.

  “Don’t ignore me. You’re only in this room because Max and I have paid for it. How dare you look at our kids like they’re a nuisance!”

  As Mike spoke, Jacob, Max’s eldest son walked over to the confectionary counter and asked the person behind it for his fifth fizzy drink. The previous four stood lined up on the window ledge, each one still over three-quarters full, and each one glowed a different neon colour. No wonder the little brat had ants in his pants and a waistline bigger than Vicky’s.

  Ed, Jacob’s younger brother, appeared behind him and asked for two more cookies. He’d had six in total and Austin had eaten three. All the while, Max and Mike either glared at Vicky or spoke so quietly she couldn’t hear what they said. It had been that way since their dad died. The second the first shovel-full of dirt hit the top of his coffin, Vicky got shoved to the family’s periphery—unless her mum had felt particularly venomous that day; then she was front and centre. At least once a week, the family would turn on her as a unit and pull everything about her apart. Everything from her clothes, to her hair, to her weight. The slut of the family, she caused nothing but trouble. If only her mother had died before her dad. How different things would have been then.

  A nasty sneer twisted Max’s face when he looked over at Vicky. “What is it? Do you think you’re something special? You sit over in the corner on your own as if your shit don’t stink.”

  The dad in the corner flinched at the swear word.

  After she shook her head, Vicky looked away from her brother.

  “You clearly do. You’ve always thought you were the golden child. Daddy’s little princess, you couldn’t do anything wrong in his eyes.”

  The dad in the corner whispered something to his boys and the three of them got to their feet and left.

  After they’d closed the door behind them, Vicky stared at Max. “They left because of you, you know. When will you learn to keep your fucking mouth shut? I just want to be here for the end of Mum’s life, although I don’t know why, and then I’ll be gone. I promise you, you’ll never hear from me again.”

  “I hope you don’t expect to be left in Mum’s will,” Mike said.

  Vicky drew a deep breath to respond and then sighed. There didn’t seem to be any point.

  “So what is it?” Max asked. “What is it that makes you think you’re so fucking special?”

  Vicky stared at the ground. Highly polished wood, it didn’t look like it belonged in a hospital. The smell of coffee from the machine in the corner made it feel like a high-end café, although the undercurrent of disinfectant remained as a permanent reminder of exactly where they were.

  “Come on, Vick,” Mike said. “Enlighten us. Why are you so special?”

  “I don’t think I’m special,” Vicky said. “I was just never a part of things after Dad died. Your little clique with Mum pushed me away, so I chose to stay away. And the reason I’m over here now? I don’t want to sit with your children. That’s fine if you don’t want to teach them manners, but I’m not being associated with them.”

  “They’re kids,” Max said.

  Vicky watched Jacob jump onto one of the comfy armchairs before he launched himself off it again. His flat feet slapped against the hard floor with a crack that snapped through her.

  “Jacob’s eight. Eight is old enough to know better. Even a four-year-old should be e
ncouraged to behave appropriately. But it’s your parenting I have a problem with, not their behaviour. I wouldn’t expect anything else from them if they’re allowed to run wild.”

  Mike stood up and pointed down at Vicky. “What the fuck would you know about raising kids? You haven’t had a boyfriend in years, let alone even thought about having a family of your own. I think I’ll get my parenting advice elsewhere, thanks.” Before he sat down, he said, “We paid for this suite so Mum could be comfortable in her final days, so maybe you need to start appreciating that rather than criticising us like you always do.”

  “Did you pay for this room? Oh, forgive me! You’ve only mentioned it fifteen fucking times. Thanks for reminding me. Besides, you give it the big I am, but who’s looked after Mum for the past few years while you two have got on with your lives?”

  Max stood up next to Mike, but before he could speak, a nurse emerged from one of the care rooms and cleared her throat. “Um, I think it’s time.”

  Silence fell over the room and the three siblings stared at one another. After a deep breath, Vicky nodded and they all followed the nurse through.

  The nurse held the door open and Vicky entered last; there were no gentlemen in her family.

  The second she stepped into the lavish room, the smell of death and disinfectant hit the back of her throat. It left a chemical taste on her tongue and stirred nausea in her guts.

  Even now, with the old woman frail and decrepit in the bed, Vicky’s nerves set on edge. With her grip on life so tenuous, the old witch still looked like she could sit up and give Vicky one final onslaught of abuse.

  As always, Max and Mike rushed to their mother’s side. They each took a hand and both stared at their momma bear. Vicky remained on her feet at the end of the bed and looked down at the skinny woman.

  The boys, Jacob, Ed, and Austin, ran over to the free vending machine in the corner. Jacob went first and punched in a code that delivered him yet another radioactive-looking fizzy drink. The white metal spiral twisted and pushed the soda forward until it hit the collection tray at the bottom with a loud thud.

  Where she had once had tubes up her nose, Vicky’s mum now had an oxygen mask strapped over the lower half of her face. Were it not for the slightest movement of her chest, Vicky would have called the private ambulance already.

  The ECG machine pipped in the corner as Vicky looked at it and imagined the flat line. Not long now.

  “Oh, Mum,” Max said. Tears streaked his cheeks and his face buckled. “I love you, Mum. We’re here now. Mike and I are here, it’s okay for you to move on.”

  Although she had her eyes closed and looked as if she had nothing left, Vicky watched her mum squeeze the hands of both of her brothers. A rattle, like something flapped in her throat, came from the old crow’s chest and she loosened her grip.

  Social convention dictated that Vicky should speak at that moment. Fuck social convention. The old woman had taken enough of Vicky over the years, she didn’t deserve any more. But Vicky didn’t leave. An important and hideous chapter of her life neared its end and she needed to witness it.

  Unlike Max, Mike couldn’t speak. His mouth turned down in a strong frown and a constant stream of tears ran down his face.

  A fight broke out by the vending machine. Vicky looked across to see that Ed had ordered the last of one of the fizzy drinks, and Jacob had taken it off him. The fat little shit seemed determined to sample every bottle of soda known to man, and family or not, his little brother wouldn’t get in the way of that.

  Max’s voice snapped through the room. “Boys!”

  They froze.

  “Behave!”

  At that point, Ed gave up on the drink and returned to the vending machine. Only a couple of sips into his current soda, Jacob placed that one on the side and opened the one he’d stolen from his brother. The pair glared at one another while Jacob sipped on his new beverage, spat his mouthful back into the can so no one else would drink from it, sipped on it again, and grinned.

  Vicky looked back at her mum. Her strained breaths slowed a little and the gap between inhale and exhale grew each time. Vicky’s mouth dried as she watched on. The temperature seemed to rise in the room. Her brothers continued to sob like the babies her mother had created.

  And then, just like that, her next breath never came. A second later, a continuous buzz issued from the ECG machine.

  Max grabbed the call button next to her bed and pressed it repeatedly. Mike wailed and dropped his face against their mother’s corpse.

  Vicky stared at her mother for a moment longer. She then spun on her heel and left the room.

  Three nurses and a doctor rushed past her through the waiting room, but Vicky kept going.

  The woman had died.

  It was finally over.

  An emptiness sat in Vicky’s gut that spread through her entire body. Numb and hollow, she stood in line in the hospital’s coffee shop and stared through unblinking eyes. The hiss of steam, the white noise of people’s chatter, and the smell of coffee, all of it seemed deadened in some way as the death of her mother settled in.

  She should be glad to see the back of the old witch, but happiness didn’t enter the equation. After a lifetime of simmering resentment from her, and then overt resentment after her dad had passed, Vicky still couldn’t feel relieved that she’d gone. The image of her brothers’ faces as they grieved ran through her mind. The pair of them made her skin crawl, but she loved them. As much as she didn’t want to, she had an attachment to the two obnoxious pricks. One day she’d work out how to switch that off. Maybe at the funeral she could put it all to rest … if she chose to go at all.

  The queue moved along and Vicky shuffled forward with it. The man behind the counter spoke. She could see he’d spoken because his lips had moved and he stared straight at her, but Vicky hadn’t heard him. A shake of her head and she said, “A large gingerbread latte, please.” That must have been what he wanted to know. Why else would he talk to her?

  When Vicky wiped her face, she realised her cheeks were soaked. Tears ran down them. Tears she didn’t feel or have any control over. It was almost as if her body had taken charge. Like it needed to force her to grieve so she could exorcise the demon that was the impact her mother had held on her life. She’d have to cry for decades for that.

  With a shaky hand, Vicky pulled several napkins from the holder on the counter and wiped her face. When she opened her bag to retrieve her purse, a large hand gripped her forearm.

  Her pulse skyrocketed when she looked up and saw the man. Well over six feet tall and with sharp blue eyes, he offered her a sympathetic smile.

  “Let me get that for you, love.”

  Vicky shook her head. “Um … no, it’s fine. Thank you. I’m fine thanks. I’ll get it.”

  The man kept his kind, yet assertive grip on Vicky’s forearm and handed a ten-pound note to the guy behind the counter. “I insist. You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

  The dam in Vicky’s heart burst and her grief rushed forward. Unable to speak, she nodded at the man. She then moved across to wait for her coffee.

  After the tall man ordered his drink, he nodded over to a corner seat. “It looks quite secluded over there. Why don’t you go and sit down and I’ll bring your coffee over to you?”

  With her brain scrambled from the day’s events, Vicky still didn’t have any words. She nodded at the man and walked over to the seat he’d pointed at.

  In the couple of minutes that passed while Vicky sat at the table, she’d managed to pull herself together somewhat. She’d stopped crying and dried her face with the handful of napkins she’d taken over with her.

  The two large coffee cups looked small in the man’s hands as he walked over to the table. He placed Vicky’s down and smiled at her. “A stupid question, but are you okay?”

  A tremble stirred in Vicky’s bottom lip and she bit it to keep it in place. After a deep breath, she nodded. That’s all she’d done so far. In the face
of this man’s kindness, she’d turned into a dumb parcel shelf dog. She cleared her throat and said, “Do you want to sit down?”

  The man shook his head. “No, I don’t want to intrude. Whatever it is, you look like you need some time on your own.”

  Another deep breath and Vicky sighed. “It’s fine. Honestly. Please, sit down.”

  The chair screeched over the laminate floor when the man pulled it away from the table as he sat.

  “I’m really sorry,” Vicky said. “Look at the state of me. I’m a mess.”

  The man batted the comment away. “So what’s going on? Do you want to talk about it?”

  Just the thought of the words made Vicky’s eyes sting and her throat ache. “My Mum …” She stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and used a napkin to dab her leaking eyes. “My Mum … she died today.”

  The man reached across and grabbed one of her hands. Vicky looked down at his soft yet firm grip and her heart fluttered. Normally, the action would feel out of place. She’d only just met the guy after all. But he had a way about him, something reassuring and kind. The warmth and strength he held her with felt safe.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be. I hated her.”

  The man balked and his azure eyes widened.

  “I know … callous, right? It’s strange that I’m crying. The woman did nothing but make my life hell. She tormented me for years. She and my brothers emotionally abused me, yet here I am crying for the old bitch. Families are fucked up, eh?”

  The man didn’t reply. Instead, he stared at Vicky, a slight frown of compassion as he allowed her to speak.

  Vicky shook her head and wiped her eyes again. “Listen to me pouring my heart out to a complete stranger. I’m really sorry. I’m Vicky, by the way.”

  The man squeezed her hand. “Honestly, you’ve nothing to be sorry about.” His smile broadened to show off two rows of perfectly white teeth. “I’m Brendan.”