Dark Days (Apocalypse Z) Read Online Free PDF

the radio didn’t pick up any broadcast, it could mean one of only two things: Either the island was maintaining radio silence… or there was no one there who could operate that radio.
    I felt sick. If the epidemic had reached the islands, our chances of survival plummeted. We were three thousand miles from Europe, flying over an island in the middle of the Atlantic, and the last of our fuel was running out. We couldn’t turn back or go somewhere else. We’d bet everything on the Canary Islands… and it looked like we’d lost.
    In the silence, I could feel three pairs of eyes boring into my neck, as the helicopter covered the last nautical miles between us and land. In a few minutes we’d have what Prit called “dry feet.”
    What the hell was I going to tell them? What the hell were we supposed to do?
    “There’s no signal, is there?” Sister Cecilia broke the heavy silence, with a note of fatalism in her voice.
    “No, Sister. I don’t think there’s anyone down there.” The Lanzarote coastline was flying past under our feet.
    “That can’t be! That just can’t be!” Lucia shook her head. “Let me try.” She pushed me aside and grabbed my headphones.
    I watched with fascination as Lucia’s slim fingers turned the dials with the delicacy and precision of a goldsmith, stopping at every little crackle or hiss, searching for a spot where a human hand might be behind the signal. I realized I’d let my nerves get the better of me and had handled the radio too roughly, compared with Lucia’s delicate touch. Suddenly her face lit up and my heart raced wildly.
    “Here’s something!” She exclaimed, nearly frantic as she ripped off the headphones. “Listen to this!” Prit flipped a lever that connected the radio to the cabin, his eyes glued to the terrain stretching before him.
    “Tenerife North Airport GCXO. Automatic emergency warning… headers twelve-thirty free, main runway clear… contact tower on channel thirty-six, do not land without authorization. Repeat, do not land without authorization. Report directly to the quarantine area. Tenerife North Airport GCXO, automatic emergency warning… headers twelve-thirty free.” The message was repeated twice more in Spanish, then it replayed in English.
    “What does that mean?” Lucia asked. “What’re they talking about?”
    “Tenerife North Airport.” Prit muttered under his breath. “Los Rodeos.”
    I nodded. Tenerife North Airport was one of two airports on the island of Tenerife, along with Reina Sofia Airport at the southern end. The automatic signal indicated that someone had survived the epidemic. The part about a “quarantine area” convinced me of that. That was the good news.
    The bad news was that we still had to get there. A quick glance at the fuel gauge made it clear we wouldn’t make it. A red light started flashing on the control panel and a shrill alarm went off. Prit pulled a small lever and the flashing light stopped; a steady orange light replaced it. We all looked over at the Ukrainian, confused.
    “I just switched over to the reserve tank. We’ve got enough juice to fly for another fifteen minutes. After that…”
    “What then?” I muttered.
    “Lanzarote Airport’s radio signal is still broadcasting, but that doesn’t mean much. It’s powered by solar batteries, so the signal could replay for months. It doesn’t mean we’ll find anyone there.”
    A heavy silence fell. We had no other choice.
    I thought for a few seconds. “We’re here, so head for Lanzarote Airport in Arrecife. It’s our only option.”
    The Ukrainian nodded and tilted the heavy Sokol to the left, following the signal.

5
    For six or seven minutes, we skimmed the rooftops in Arrecife. Before the epidemic it was a city of about fifty thousand, but we didn’t spot anyone on the streets.
    It looked about like all the other cities we’d seen along our relentless journey, except for one thing: There were no signs of fighting, no pileups of