Night Plague: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Rowan Rook Read Free Book Online Page A

again.”
     
    ****
     
    A new set of faces flashed across the projector and surveyed the class for the last time. Four more dead. Three more missing.
    Merril leaned in closer from her seat to his left, whispering. “Was it this bad all week?”
    Mason nodded silently and chewed on a pen already dented with tooth-marks from months past. It was a bad habit, and one that tended to act up when anxious. A fang nearly tore off the plastic tip before he quickly reminded himself to keep his mouth closed.
    …He could’ve easily been up there, just one more image on the projector.
    “Hmm.” She tilted her head just slightly as she watched the photos. “A couple of them were from this class, weren’t they?”
    He answered with another nod.
    Merril was as much a recluse as he was. She was out sick a lot, but when Martin forced her to class, she kept to herself. Or rather, he and Merril kept to themselves. Perhaps that was why they were so close – both at home and in class, all they really had was each other.
     
    ****
     
    Mason clenched the edge of the toilet seat and held his head over the bowl. He retched, sending the barely digested contents of that afternoon’s lunch back up his throat. Acid spilled from his lurching stomach.
    It finally started to subside after he forced down a full gasp of air, dry heaving fading into tired tremors. He wiped the corner of his mouth and left a yellowed stain on the sleeve of his t-shirt.
    He’d finally taken up Merril’s offer to share a few bites of her lunch. It hadn’t gone well.
    He flushed the toilet with his boot and left the stall, cursing beneath his breath. He was starting to feel hungry now, but… He shook his head, lumbering over to the sink to wash his hands. The reflection in the mirror caught his eye, and he gazed at the glass image of himself for the second time that day. His face was almost as white as his shirt. It was only a matter of time before someone said something.
    A shadow shuffled beneath the crack of a stall door, the subtle motion captured in the mirror. He jumped. Was someone there? He hadn’t noticed anyone.
    He watched for a while, somehow uneasy, before shrugging the thought away. Whether someone was there or not, it was a public restroom. It didn’t matter.
    He was drying off his hands when the bathroom door moaned open. A boy with reddish hair and freckles padded straight for the sink. He took the basin a few spaces down, busying himself with washing his hands. The mirror exposed his blue eyes. They were watching the glass, not the bowl.
    A nervous prickle bit the back of Mason’s neck. He tossed the paper towel and made for the door before looking over his shoulder. The red-head still busily scrubbed his hands, and the other stall remained silent. He was probably just imagining things. He was on almost too high alert that morning.
    He briefly considered staying and trying to make use of the facilities. It was well passed noon now, and he hadn’t pissed since he’d cleaned out the bathrooms yesterday evening. That was, well, generally a bad sign, wasn’t it? Given the mess on his bedroom floor and him not holding anything down all morning, though, perhaps it wasn’t surprising.
    He shoved the door away with his shoulder and returned to the hall. He’d run off without having time to say anything when his stomach lurched, so Merril was probably worried.
    Even during lunch-hour, the corridors were vastly empty – his ears easily caught the creak of the bathroom door opening. He looked back to see a boy he hadn’t noticed before emerge.
    Eh? He craned his neck for a better look. So there had been someone in the stall after all?
    A second boy followed – the one with red hair. Mason watched them until the first raised brown eyes to meet his.
    He shivered and turned away, hurrying down the hall with quickened steps. Separate footfalls fell in line behind his. It seemed that was happening way too often recently. He just kept walking, refusing to