Flu Read Online Free PDF Page A

with skin, the hot sting of tearing flesh causing her to screech in an almost banshee like fashion. She pulled her feet up, losing her grip in the process. The car came to a dramatic halt, and Geri felt herself freefall. She hit the road hard, a sharp pain running up her arm and shoulder. For a moment, she lay crying, her adrenalin so raw that she almost felt possessed.
        Moments went by. Maybe she'd passed out, or maybe she just wanted to have passed out. She opened her eyes, looking around her. One of her ears was ringing. The other could detect the voices. The guttural ones.
        DEFINITELY everywhere, now. She struggled to get up, reeling against her scorched, moist foot. It wouldn't touch the ground. She tried to walk, but ended up hopping. Her head was spinning. Her balance surprised her.
        Balaclava had exited the car, now struggling with the lock on the door of a house in front of her. She struggled in his direction, cursing him as she moved. Yelling at him to stop. But she could understand why he hated her. Only a mad bitch would hang onto a car like that. A stupid, annoying, mad bitch. She was even starting to piss herself off.
        Balaclava finally managed to get the door open, looking left and right before darting in and closing it behind him. Geri heard the door lock tight just as she reached it. She beat her bruised and bloodied hands upon it, yelling at the top of her voice. There were other voices, now. Drawn to the excitement, their footsteps getting closer. Panic ran through her blood like poison. She turned her attention to the front window, noticing how it was covered by a metal grill. She went back to the door, beating against it and screaming like the crazy bitch she truly had become.
        They were almost upon her. She refused to look around, but she could feel them, smell them, almost taste their heavy, acrid stench in her mouth. This is it, she thought to herself. This is your swansong, Geri- babes. Kiss your bye-byes, as her mum used to say. Rest in peace, you crazy, mad bitch.
        Geri closed her eyes tight, bracing herself for the inevitable embrace of a sweat-stained, flu-ridden death. She hoped it would be quick, painless. She hoped, but she knew that hope was not enough. Not anymore. Not when the odds were so readily stacked against her.
        But then, when it seemed lost, the door opened, again. A hand grabbed her, roughly, pulling her through.

Chapter Two
        
        Balaclava manhandled Geri through the small hallway of the house, his eyes wide, and his gun hand ever threatening. He never spoke, instead keeping his head and mouth, purposely, away from her. He half dragged, half pushed her. Her torn foot was grating against the rough-fibred carpet, causing her to cry, and she hated crying in front of this bastard. They reached the small cubby hole under the stairs. He opened its panelled wooden door and threw her against the hoovers and brushes inside. She landed hard against her shoulder, scattering the various household junk. He closed the door, before she could even as much as take a breath, leaving her in darkness. A key turned, a lock clicked.
        "You fucking bastard!" she called out, slamming her fist against the door.
        From outside, she heard activity. Balaclava swearing loudly. Footsteps on the stairs and another voice, agitated, challenging Balaclava. An ensuing argument between the two voices, with only a few words made out. Words like 'flu' and 'girl' and, most worryingly, 'dead'.
        Geri fumbled around in the dark, mouldy cubby for something that could be fashioned into a weapon. She found a brush shaft and gripped it like a gladiator, aiming at the door. It would be no match for a gun, but she'd spear the first bastard to open that door, then sprint down the hall…
        (to where?)
        Her heart sank when she considered the options. Back outside? Where the streets were becoming more and more dangerous, more