The Dead Years - ORIGINS - Book Zero (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller) Read Online Free PDF

phone from his pocket to check who was calling. “April,” he said aloud. He figured there must be something else she needed to harass him about and he wasn’t going to ruin another workout just to satisfy her need to belittle him. He hit decline and lay back on the floor for another set of crunches.
     
    Mason ran through his next set like a man on fire and lost all focus on the world around him. He often used his outside frustrations to fuel his high intensity workouts in the gym. This proved to be an effective tool in that he was able to push off his problems and at the same time get into top shape. The downside to all this was that his workouts, coupled with the time spent training clients, fueled the fire that resulted in his and April’s separation three months ago.
     
    Rolling forward and standing from his final set, Mason was surprised to see the weight room almost empty. He turned and noticed at least thirty people gathered outside the owner’s office and as he got closer, he saw there was at least half that amount inside the office.
     
    They seemed to be intently debating something as others hurried out the front exits of the gym and were headed for their cars. Mason asked one of the female on-lookers what was happening and just as she began to answer, his phone started to buzz, indicating he was getting a text message.
     
    Again it was April.
     
    Looking back at the woman standing directly in front of him, now appearing irritated, Mason said, “I apologize, what did you say?”
     
    “The old folks home,” she said.
    “Yes…” Mason followed.
    “They’re killing each other… LOOK!”
     
    Mason pushed his way through the diminishing crowd inside the office to get a glimpse of the television now directly in front of him.
     
    The reporter standing in the hallway was in the middle of his report when he was overtaken by what appeared to be three individuals, all of whom were at least eighty years old.
     
    Someone in the crowd said, “I am not sure what the hell they’re taking, but I want some. Damn, I have never seen people that age move so fast.”
     
    The news station cut away just as the threesome overtook the reporter. The footage was disturbing in that it appeared as though they were not just attacking the reporter, but trying to devour him. The first crazed senior appeared to bite the reporter on the neck or face and just as they cut away it looked as though the others had the same intention.
     
    The station went to a commercial and Tom the owner switched to another station covering a mysterious virus plaguing an emergency room with the same sort of crazy behavior; this time it wasn’t senior citizens. The cameraperson appeared to be running from the hospital and dropped the camera just as he was trapped on all sides by the angry horde.
     
    Mason looked over at Tom and watched as the remaining members either headed toward the doors or to the locker room, fearing the unknown. Tom stared at the screen a minute longer watching as the cameraman was torn to shreds by nothing more than the hands and mouths of the rabid individuals.
     
    “Tom!”
    “Yeah, what?” Tom said as though coming out of a fog.
    “What the hell is happening?”
    “How on earth would I know? It’s on every damn station though… check it out.”
     
    As Tom flipped from one station to the next, every station—even the local cable channels—had coverage of these bizarre events taking place. Some of the network channels had started to go dark and this appeared to concern Tom.
     
    “Mason, I’m closing up for the day. I need to get home; my wife is probably flipping out. I’m surprised she hasn’t called yet. If you want to stay you can lock up, otherwise let’s go.”
     
    “That’s fine,” Mason said. “I’m going to grab my bag and I’ll just be a few minutes behind you.”
     
    Heading back toward the locker room, Mason turned and looked as Tom reached the front door.
     
    “Tom, take care, I’ll