Virulent: The Release by Shelbi Wescott Read Free Book Online Page B

around his eyes, the quivering of his chin. And then his heavy brows lifted and sank, but he continued.
    “We are a nation at war with several enemies. The bioterrorism is our first threat. The government is asking that you stay inside. Do not leave your house. If you find yourself away from home and need shelter, then schools and churches are our sanctuaries. Find one. Stay there. Our…”
    Thunk. Thunk. Lucy jumped. Someone was pushing against the door and sliding her carefully positioned tables forward. The flag came unfettered from the tape and drifted downward and an angry face from one of the school’s security guards peered through the glass, his eyes darting around the room—landing on the television before finally locking on Lucy. She dropped off the desk and rushed to the window, throwing wide the curtain, before realizing that these windows would never grant her an escape. But her eyes caught a glimpse of the world outside for one brief moment. It was long enough to see a tower of smoke billowing into the sky, and even the clouds looked yellow and green and hazy. This vantage point had her looking across the football field where a storm of people gathered huddled in masses, their tiny bodies approaching the school like a death-march.
    The security guard gained access to the room and he placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward him. She stumbled into his grasp and felt her hopes of reuniting with her brother slipping away from her.
    On the screen, images from around the nation and around the world surfaced in a slideshow. Nurses in biohazard gear treating the sick, a man slumped over a steering wheel in the middle of traffic, the wreckage of a downed plane, and a young mother carrying a small bundle out of her house, agony written on every angle of her face.
    Lucy looked away.
    How had so much happened in such a short amount of time?
    The man caught a glimpse of the TV too, and his face collapsed a bit, softening in all the right places, before he toughened himself, shook the image from his mind, and tightened his hold on her. “All students in the auditorium. We’re in lockdown,” he stated.
    “I just got here,” Lucy said.
    “School is secure. Has been since ten minutes into first period. So, no way, darlin’. Come on,” he pushed her forward, pulling a walkie-talkie from his waistband. “McGuire here. Got a hider in Havs old room.”
    It took a moment before someone radioed back. “Is she symptomatic?”
    The guard looked her over. His finger rested on the button. “You feel sick?” he asked Lucy. “Feverish? Nauseated?”
    She contemplated a snide reply, but then thought better of it. She shook her head.
    “If you start to feel achy or if you start to get a headache or blurred vision,” he continued rattling off a list of ailments associated with the flu, while Lucy dropped her eyes to the floor. He led her into the hallway, maneuvering past the fallen, “You tell someone immediately. Understand?”
    “Are people contagious?” she asked when he was done instructing her about what to expect upon entering the school’s self-imposed quarantine. She stepped in something wet and slimy; she refused to look down and tried to drag her soiled shoe along the floor to wipe it clean.
    The guard shrugged.
    Together they walked past a small alcove and Lucy turned her head. The doors and windows leading to the outside were covered in long strips of bulletin board paper. The guard followed her gaze.
    “It’s part of the lockout procedures,” he offered. “Cover all windows and doors.”
    “The news said that schools were a sanctuary,” Lucy said. Aware of her own impertinence, she blushed.
    “Not this one.”
    She felt tightness in her legs, and she kept her head low, looking at the ground. The guard’s walkie-talkie came to life with a booming distinct voice, a man she recognized as Friendly Kent, a tall man, with extreme biceps and a closet full of V-necked sweaters. He was the