Project Terminal: Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page A

okay. Nothing in particular screamed zombie virus .
    Wind whipped around her as they sped down the interstate. Motorcycles had always frightened her, when they’d pass cars or semis her heart rate skyrocketed. She hadn’t wanted to die last night and sure as hell didn’t want to become roadkill today.
    At mid-afternoon Damian pulled into a gas station somewhere in Podunk, Louisiana. He had to help her off the Harley after she discovered she’d taken root to the saddle.
    “I’ll fuel up then go inside and get us some food,” he said, holding her by the forearms while she tested her legs for stability.
    “I’m going to the restroom.” Her stomach woozy, she feared she may throw up. And if she threw up she’d do a face plant on the pavement.
    “Do you need help?”
    “We had this conversation last night. I can go to the bathroom by myself.” She waved off his hand.
    He lifted his eyebrows. “Last night you tried to run away.”
    “Well, I can promise you I’m in no shape to run. I need to get in touch with my family too.”
    He frowned. “We’ll have to wait on that.”
    Too weak to argue, she only snorted. Customers gave her curious looks when she walked through the sliding glass doors of the convenience store. She ignored them, shuffling toward the ladies’ room at a turtle pace. Maybe she had turned zombie, all she needed were the moans, groans, and outstretched arms. She considered doing just that then giggled, drawing even more stares.
    “I had a zombie virus, but I’m good now,” she explained to a passing woman who made no effort to hide her ogling. The woman harrumphed and stomped away. “Yokel,” Laura muttered.
    After using the facilities, she dared a peek in the mirror over the restroom’s sinks. Death stared back. Her cheeks held no color and her lips had taken on a bluish hue. Dark circles discolored the skin beneath her red streaked eyes. She groaned, splashing cold water over her face. God, she needed a shower—an hour long shower with lots and lots of soap and a good loofah scrub.
    A toilet in one of the stalls flushed. A woman came out, taking the next sink over. Big brown eyes regarded her in the mirror. Laura did her best to appear nonchalant as she grabbed several paper towels and held them beneath the faucet. After pumping soap from the dispenser on the wet towels, she washed her arms. The best she’d get for a while.
    “Oh, honey child, I know where you’re comin’ from,” the woman said.
    Laura met the woman’s pitying gaze while swiping a towel beneath her armpits. You’ve been bit by a rabid zombie too? Laura bit her tongue. She gave a quick shrug, continuing her bath.
    “I was hooked on the junk for years. Meth, coke, weed, whatever I could get my hands on.” The woman reached out, patting her arm before rummaging inside an oversized designer purse. She pulled out a business card. “Here is the number of the rehab place I went to. Real classy, the folks are super nice.” She pressed the card in Laura’s hand and with a final pat on the shoulder left her alone in the bathroom.
    A giggle bubbled up Laura’s throat. Drugs would be a blessing considering what she’d gotten into. She eyed the window…solid, frosted glass and much too small for escape. With her health returning she saw no reason to stay with Damian, surely she could lose him in the convenience store. Maybe hitch a ride back to Mississippi with one of the truckers.
    But they had a tie binding them together, keeping her from doing just that. Perhaps she’d lost her fight. Or maybe couldn’t deal with the idea of making her way back home and facing the questions from her family and friends. What could she say that wouldn’t land her in the psych ward? Maybe she even half-feared she’d return to the diner and find another zombie waiting to avenge its friend’s death.
    And maybe she needed to know what the hell was going on.
    She gripped the edge of the sink, the room spinning, and she closed her eyes