Katherin Hassan-Clarke and Esther Quinn, young lovers living on the coast of Riga, Latvia, face the terrifying realisation that their home is no longer safe when a deadly zombie pathogen ravages Eastern Europe. Fleeing their home before they are for...
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Rosabelle didn't think twice before pushing her way into the main room, knocking shoulders with her friends in their haste to leave the pharmacy.
The door clicked shut behind her. Rosabelle shoved her shaking fists into the pockets of her sweater. She didn't want to die, didn't want to risk her life to save the others, but it was necessary. Katherin and Gwynth needed the medical supplies they'd left behind. The others might need them too if they weren't careful.
The medical bag was still on the counter where it had been left.
Rosabelle stepped over some bloody gloves, discarded carelessly onto the floor. The stench of blood had begun filling the room, choking out all other scents in the air. Rosabelle pulled her sleeve over her palm, using it to cover her mouth and lessen the stench.
Some of the supplies had spilled out of the bag. Rosabelle scooped them up, packing them tightly. She looked under the counter, fishing out a couple of packets of jellybeans. The packets crumpled as Rosabelle shoved them into the bag.
The smell of rotting flesh.
Rosabelle looked up.
The zombie stood in the centre of the room, its head tilted as it watched Rosabelle.
Rosabelle sucked in a breath. She stepped backwards, her fingers reaching behind her for the door handle. There was nothing. Her fingers grasped at air.
The zombie began walking forward. It walked as if it was wading through water, stumbling over its own feet, as if it was a toddler taking its first steps. The flesh of the zombie's skin was pasty white, a reminder that the body had bled out in the backroom before its revival.
Rosabelle didn't want to think about what would happen to her if the zombie was to bite her.
The zombie stumbled forward faster, with more vigour.
Rosabelle turned to the door, grabbing the handle. She pushed, but the door didn't budge.
The zombie was getting closer.
Rosabelle closed her eyes involuntarily, digging her fingers into her forearms as she tried to protect herself from the inevitable. She was going to die. The zombie would bite her, tear her apart, just like it had done to all the others. She hadn't seen the remains of Rebeka, but she could imagine. There had been other dead survivors along the path to the docks. Rosabelle had thought they'd been torn apart by wild animals before Lyria had told her the truth. She couldn't accept the fact that something resembling a human being would be so bloodthirsty.
Rosabelle was pushed to the floor, her fall broken by a pair of hands grabbing her waist as they tumbled to the floor. She groaned, wincing as she failed to pull herself from the person's chest. Her head pounded.
Rosabelle forced herself to open her eyes. She caught a glimpse of bleached hair, dark roots already beginning to appear at the base.
"You were supposed to go to the car," Rosabelle hissed.
