First ever FBtA Podcast
In order to celebrate 100 pages, we thought you might like to hear a small interview author to author.
Page 100
The room was dark. The only light came from around the cell door. Max didn’t need even that much light, she could see everything she needed to. Everything in this room was dead, she was dead, and so was the man in here with her.
She wondered where Jake was. From when they landed till they were hustled into this cell they wouldn’t let her see him.
It was just her, and it was just him. He sat on the floor, his eyes shining at her from across the room. She too sat on the floor on the opposite side of the room. The dead man reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a brass-ringed monocle.
After wiping it in with a soft cotton rag he slid it into place over his right eye.
“My dear lady, I’m getting the startling impression they do not trust us,” the dead man said. Max couldn’t feel his heartbeat, so it was hard for her to stay focused on him.
“They aren’t going to trust us.” She gave a laugh that sounded more like a gurgle. “We’re dead now.” That wasn’t right. “I mean, you’re dead, I’m, I’m…” She wasn’t sure what word she wanted to use. She wasn’t like him, she was still alive. That zombie who’d bit her had turned into some kind of abomination.
“I prefer the term ‘ravishingly undead,’” he said, sounding smug with his British accent.
“You can call it what you want, you’re one of them. Except you talk.”
The man studied her a moment and he was so motionless, Max had thought that perhaps he’d at last expired. “I’m having a hard time believing you think you’re different from me.” He leaned forward and smiled wide showing off crooked yellow teeth. “We hunger.”
His voice was dark. “For the same things, Maxine. We struggle for the same humanity.”
She pushed herself up against the wall as hard as she could. “Speak for yourself! I’m alive!”
His eyebrows came up so far his monocle fell out. “My dear lady, you and I are no longer alive in the way you suggest. We are a terrible, terrible experiment of viral warfare.” His smile said he didn’t find it all that terrible.
“Viral?”
“Yes, it’s that simple. A virus passed by bodily fluids from one vessel to the next. A crude attack against the population of an enemy state.”
“If it’s man made, there has to be an antidote. A way to reverse the effect.” Max felt herself rising to her feet. She just needed the cure and she’d be fine. She didn’t have to succumb to the hunger any more. She gnashed her teeth, drooling at the thought, ready to use her teeth on anyone that came through that door. It was a moment before she realized the dead thing was talking again: she’d lost her focus.
“… isn’t one. That assumes, the creator wants to reverse or stop the effects of his creation.”
“W-what?” Max said, her voice raspy.
“Doctor Irons doesn’t want to stop this.” He stood slowly, adjusting his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. ”He wants to improve his creation. We show immunities, the ability to adapt and co-exist with the virus. He wishes to fix this problem.”
They stared across the space once more. Conversation was slipping from her mind again, as it did every time the dead man stopped talking.
“I promised to help him with finding subjects, and he’ll help me.” the Baron added.
“Help you to what?”
“Brains, my good lady, brains.”
The door of the cell opened and a guard leaned in. “Baron, Irons wishes to talk with you.”
With a lunge the Baron grabbed the unsuspecting soldier by the arm pulled him into the dark space and Max felt the room come alight with life. It assaulted all of her senses. With a gurgling cry the man’s life blood splattered over the cool wall, and the Baron’s teeth ripped his neck open.
“What about your deal?” Max sputtered, breathing hard. Already her body was betraying her, calling her to the dying man.
More men were starting to flood into the room. Guns were fired, but there was no focus, panic thick in the air. “I’m his creation, Maxine. Not his pet.”
The Baron lunged without hesitation into his meal.