HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (26 page)

His mom was staring at him.

‘I love you, Justin,’ she whispered. ‘I love you more than anything in the world.’

She thinks we’re going to die now,
Justin thought.

‘We’re not going to die,’ he whispered back.

With his father gone, it was Justin’s responsibility to protect his mother. That’s why he’d jumped off the lifeboat. He knew what he needed to do.

Behind the bar rested bottles of spirits. He selected a large bottle of scotch.

His mother shook her head.

In one smooth motion, Justin tossed the bottle at the tavern’s back wall.

Craaaash!

The bottle landed on a serving trolley. Knives and forks and spoons went flying everywhere.

The crazies surged toward the noise.

Justin leaped onto the countertop.

‘No,’ hissed his mother, reaching for him.

But Justin moved too quickly.

‘Wait here,’ he whispered.

His plan was simple. He’d lead the crazies away, lose them in the corridors, and then return for his mother.

His sneakers hit the floor.

The tavern was an obstacle course of overturned tables and chairs. Justin dashed for the door, leaping over a toppled chair. He glanced over his shoulder.

He shouldn’t have.

Three crazies spotted him.

They reacted instantly. Their bodies seemed to move before their brains even registered his presence.

Justin looked forward again
barely
in time.

One of the crazies was close.

A woman.

She wore a room attendant’s uniform.

Twisting her face in hatred, she sprinted to intercept Justin.

I have to reach the door,
he told himself.
I can’t let her stop me.

As the crazy cleaner closed the distance, Justin kicked a chair in her path. One moment her entire face and hands seemed to fill his vision, and the next she fell behind him with one leg tangled in the chair.

Justin thought he heard her leg break.

He didn’t look back. Even when he heard the crazies falling over the furniture. They might be fast, but they were dumb. Justin burst through the open doorway at top speed.

He risked a glance back.

Three crazies reached the narrow doorway together. Their shoulders collided. One ran full speed into the doorframe. One tripped and came rolling out. The third navigated the doorway, but tumbled over the rolling man.

That was Justin’s first piece of luck all day.

He looked ahead.

Right outside the tavern stood Paradise Printing. He ran between the self-service photo booths, cutting under the giant seashell-shaped awning.

THUMP!

Justin went down.

He didn’t see who tackled him.

Clang-clang-clang!

His wrench flew away.

A woman had him! She had his legs! She wore a yellow bikini under a torn white sun dress. Dried blood clotted her long blond hair into ghastly dreadlocks.

Justin twisted instantly, trying to break her grip. He got one leg free and began kicking her savagely in the face. His second kick missed, but his third knocked her away.

Behind her, the insane passengers from the tavern came running. A muscular man wearing only bright orange shorts led the pack.

Justin needed to escape right now.

With both legs free, he spun and jumped to his feet. He took two steps before the woman dove around his legs again. The muscular man in orange shorts tackled Justin from the side. The stunning blow knocked Justin flat on the deck.

In absolute terror, he curled into a ball as the pack fell upon him.

The breath was crushed from his lungs.

Fists pounded him.

Hands grabbed all his limbs, stretching him out.

A huge chunk of hair tore away from his head.

This is it.

Justin glimpsed the man in orange shorts lifting his foot, ready to stomp Justin’s head down onto the deck.

Justin turned his face away.

The man’s foot never descended.

Instead, he went flying backward with a shovel embedded in his chest.

Justin’s limbs came free. He curled into a tight ball again. He heard heavy boots, yelling, and the sounds of violence. He uncovered his face when no one began attacking him again.

He looked around.

The Marines!

The Marines were helping him.

He scrambled toward his wrench. He snatched it up and stood, ready to fight again.

But the fighting was over.

Nine crazies lay scattered around the deck. Some still moved, but only barely.

Justin saw his mother racing toward them in her chair.

He pointed at her, wordlessly, and tried to walk toward her.

He only got three steps before his legs gave out.

A huge man caught him. A huge black man with forearms thicker than Justin’s legs. The man pulled Justin to his feet.

The man’s voice rumbled so deeply that Justin felt it through his entire body.

‘Hold still, boy. You just took a major ass-whooping. You’re safe now. Your mother’s safe. You just get your legs back.’

Justin hurt all over, but he didn’t care.

His mother sped toward him. She hit the brakes and skidded to a halt, wrapping her arms around him.

‘You fool,’ she cried. ‘I saw them catch you. I saw them all over you. I thought you were dead.’

Justin hugged her back.

Neve Kershaw didn’t want to let go of her son.

‘Quickly. Everyone in here. We made too much noise!’

A ship’s officer beckoned at them from the art gallery.

Neve recognized Erin, the hotel manager.

Everyone hustled into the gallery, around the service counter and back into the gallery proper where they couldn’t be seen from the promenade.

Neve watched the big Marine supporting Justin.

Her son was walking better now. He didn’t seem to have any broken bones or serious injuries.

It’s a miracle
, she thought.
Those killers were all over him. He was buried under them. But he’s still alive. He’s alive and he’s walking right in front of me.

The big Marine led Justin to a couch. A different Marine offered Justin a drink.

As Justin drank, Neve found Erin.

She grabbed Erin’s hand. ‘You brought them to us, Erin. Thank you so much.’

Erin sat. She looked exhausted. She shook her head.

‘Ben Bryant guided us with the radios,’ said Erin. ‘I’m sorry we weren’t faster. You almost lost your son.’

‘But I didn’t. Thanks to you all.’

Neve looked around. Everyone was staring at her.

‘What is it?’

Erin pointed to the Marine who’d given Justin a drink.

‘This is Captain Coleman. Ben sent his team to find you. We need your help.’

Neve nodded. If her expertise could get her and Justin off this ship, she was eager to make it happen. ‘What can I do, Captain Coleman?’

‘Just call me Coleman.’ He waved to the promenade. ‘What were you doing out there?’

‘Trying to reach lifeboats,’ replied Justin.

‘All the lifeboats are gone,’ said Coleman.

‘Not all of them,’ countered Neve. ‘The staff lifeboats couldn’t all have been launched.’

Coleman raised an eyebrow at Erin.

‘She’s right,’ confirmed Erin. ‘The staff had to board the main lifeboats with everyone else. Some of the staff lifeboats won’t have launched.’

Coleman pulled out a map. ‘Where are the staff lifeboats?’

Erin pointed on the map.

Neve nodded. ‘It’s still a good plan. Can you help us reach them?’

From his expression, Captain Coleman had other ideas.

‘We need your help first,’ he said.

Neve studied the Marines. ‘Isn’t it meant to be the other way around? Aren’t you supposed to be helping us?’

Coleman sat to speak at eye level with Neve.

‘First Officer Bryant told us about your qualifications.’

Neve nodded. ‘I helped devise a response plan. I advised the medical staff which blood tests the mainland needed.’

‘Those blood tests never reached the bridge,’ revealed Coleman. ‘The mainland has nothing to work with.’

‘Then you need to get them,’ said Neve. ‘It’s imperative. If this infection reaches the mainland it will kill more humans than every war and every epidemic in history combined. But it won’t be the germs killing us. We’ll be killing each other.’

‘Imagine if half the residents of New York City declared war on the other half,’ said Erin.

‘More like half the continent,’ Neve corrected. ‘Pandemic modeling is my job. If this infection reaches the United States it will spread from Alaska to Chile in less than a week. The entire continent’s population would turn on each other. It would be an apocalypse. There’s no other word to explain it.’

Silence followed Neve’s revelation.