Red Death Wave: The UK Under Attack

Chapter 4

For a moment Luger is frozen, staring at me and Lola. The look on his face might be pity, but it quickly hardens into a cold mask.

"She's got the Red Death," he says.

I hug Lola against my chest, my throat too tight to speak.

"I'm sorry, but we have to deal with her," Luger says. His henchmen stride into the room. There's a moment before they reach us where I could try to fight them off, but I waste it trying to decide whether to grab the surviving bottle and attack them with it, or to scoop Lola into my arms and make a run for it. Luger's men grab my sister, ripping her from my arms like she weighs nothing at all.

"No," I scream.

I lunge after them, but the taller one turns and backhands me, sending me reeling against the wall. Pain screams across the side of my face, turning everything hazy. Many times since the Waves began, I've hoped to wake up and find that this has all been a dream, but I've never wished for it as badly as I do now. This has to be a dream. I've done everything I can to keep Lola safe from the Red Death. I've let sick people die by the roadside, walked past dying children without stopping to spare them a second thought, all to keep Lola safe. I've sacrificed pieces of my soul, and in the end it was for nothing.

"I'm sorry," Luger says again, before following his men out of the kitchen.

I try to chase him but my legs are rooted to the spot. I feel numb all over, like my body is no longer mine and I can't get it work. Then Lola's faint cry trails up to me and I explode to life, snatching up the wine bottle and running after them.

I don't care if Lola has the plague. No one is taking my sister away from me.

Luger and his men are already gone by the time I race outside, but they can't be too far ahead. My feet thud the paved ground, my heart slamming against my ribs. I tear through a flock of seagulls, and they rise into the air with a mad flutter of wings, leaving the ground pitted with droppings.

And suddenly I freeze, a horrible puzzle piece slotting into place. For weeks I've been wondering how the Red Death has managed to spread so far and so fast, sweeping across the world like a bloody lightning bolt. Now, looking around the quays, at the seagulls waddling across the raft of bodies that sways in the ocean, pecking happily away at the stacks of corpses lining the sides of the streets, it all makes sense.

This is how the Red Death is spread.

There are millions and millions of birds in the world - billions. If they carry the plague inside them, transferred by the diseased flesh they consume night and day, then each dropping becomes a plague-filled missile.

A scream builds in my chest. People are blaming lack of sanitation for the spread of the disease, and all this time it's been the fucking birds. The Others knew exactly how to wipe us out, and we never even saw it coming. I mean, who's afraid of a silly pigeon? I should have been because a silly pigeon is responsible for my sister's sickness. I think of the bird crap on her hands, the moment the Red Death must have entered her system, and my stomach heaves.

I want to scream at the people around me, warn them to stay away from the birds, but the scream dies in my throat as I spot Luger and his men. They're striding towards the bonfire, carrying Lola's small frame between them. She's too weak to even fight back.

The horror and fear freezing my limbs turns to fire, fury boiling in my veins. "Leave my sister alone," I roar, and charge at them.

Luger spins towards me, and I smash the bottle around the side of his head. He crumples to the ground. The neck of the wine bottle is still clutched in my hand, the end splintered to a circle of glass spikes. When Luger's henchmen hesitate, I drive the broken bottle into the nearest guy's shoulder. He screams and drops Lola.