Psychosis (Wildfire Chronicles Vol. 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

infections, squeezing out the pus that rotted in her skull and removing a terrible pressure. Cleansing.
    Bailey clumsily stumbled out of the hopelessly inefficient four-inch heels she only wore to try to impress the man she’d had her eye on since taking the job and sprinted after the man that had bitten into her flesh, and she too was snarling.
    S tanding in the corridor, stunned by the sight of the receptionist streaking toward him, her face drenched in blood, was Robert, the man that had unknowingly prompted her to wear the high heels, and the thing that had been Bailey Smith charged at him drooling, and finally got her kiss.
    Even at that last moment as the corridors began to fill with blood and pain, Moorcroft might have survived the evolving onslaught but for a matter of timing, and the fact that Stuart White, head of the hospital’s small security team, was standing chatting to a colleague, and propping open the heavy security door with his foot.
    Lost in conversation about the last round of football matches that would ever be played, Stuart didn’t see them coming until the chance to react was lost, and he fell with a whimper and a spurt of arterial blood. Once inside the Hospital proper, the infection spread like steam, filling every crevice and gap, painting the walls red, and the fight was lost before the staff and patients even knew it had begun.
    On the second floor, in Dr Jackson’s spacious office, the calming atmosphere her Feng Shui expert had meticulously constructed broke like dropped china when the screaming began.
    Alex heard and understood the commotion on the floor below them, was able to logically process that something had gone badly wrong: a riot perhaps; some poor unfortunate snapping and setting off a chain reaction. Yet his emotions remained flat.
    The damn pills have neutered my mind.
    Clearly, Dr Jackson had no such trouble: the blood drained from her face, taking away all colour beyond the ridiculously bright red lipstick she insisted on wearing. Suddenly, she looked like some terrified porcelain doll. She stared blankly at him, and Alex realised that despite their relative positions, she was actually looking to him for guidance.
    You won’t last long at this place Dr Jackson.
    Alex stood and crept to the door, easing it open. The noise was approaching, moving through the hospital like an express train, almost as though the security officers had taken the day off. Why would they let trouble get out of the main hall and upstairs to the offices?
    As he watched, Alex saw a woman – one of the patients – careering around the corner, running like her life depended on it. Seconds later, he saw a bloodied man wearing a security uniform catch her trailing gown, dragging her to the floor. The man proceeded to tear out the woman’s throat, pulling away from her with a large chunk of her neck still gripped between his teeth.
    Quietly, Alex closed the door, and turned to Dr Jackson.
    “Does this lock?” He whispered, pointing at the door.
    Deborah Jackson nodded, terrified, and threw her key to him. Alex caught it and locked the heavy oak door with a click.
    A second later, the door shook in its frame as something thumped into it from the other side.
    “Ok ay Dr Jackson,” Alex said, and the breezy tone of his voice unnerved him. “I think our session is over. And we have to get out of here.”
    “W-What?” She stammered. “Are you crazy? I can’t take you out of here!”
    “I actually am crazy , Doc, and you know it. But right now, something very, very bad is happening on the other side of this door, and by the sound of it, it’s happening on the other side of every door in this place. We have to go, out of that window, to the car park, and then as far away from here as we can possibly get.”
    The bemused look on her face told Alex she wasn’t buying it, so he stood to one side and pointed at the floor. Following the gesture, she saw what had been obscured by his feet: fingers,