Free The Reaper Virus (Novella): Sarcophagus by Nathan Barnes Page B

They walked back to the bus side by
side.

 
    Chapter Thirteen

 
    Breakfast
brought about all the pomp and circumstance of a soup kitchen. They were all
worn, tired and impatient. Contingency plans were foolishly excluded from the
church’s retreat arrangements. By now they should be waking in personal rooms
with their first meal being served in a nice cafeteria. A retreat away from
hometown danger is what they all paid for, not a camping trip on a gridlocked bridge high above a tumultuous river. Many
church attendees had an old fashioned sense of Southern entitlement that didn’t
mesh well with their predicament.

 
    This
attitude is why Jessica didn’t bother making friends with the others. As a much
more grounded individual, common threads were hard to find. She spent every
saved penny for their seats on that bus. Weeks of news reports about the spreading
pandemic terrified her enough to write the check. Their being there was a
contingency plan. Hearing the pompous tone in the conversations around them got
under her skin more than she should have allowed it to. Irritation was a
welcomed feeling over the debilitating anxiety she felt minutes before.

 
    It
appeared as if multiple cars in their area were completely abandoned. People
took what they could carry, left their vehicles and walked onward. Two such
cars were parked directly to the right of the bus, next to their eating area.
The local vacancies were opportunistic for the retreat. It extended their
bubble of influence without bumping heads with other clusters that formed
throughout the daylong gridlock.

 
    Several
dozen assorted single-serving boxes of breakfast cereal were lined up on the
compartment hatch-turned-table. A crate of two percent milk cartons was placed
at the foot of the impromptu buffet. Retreat members lined up to take their
pick of the sugar-filled offering. Then they took their choice either back
inside the bus or leaned up against the abandoned cars while enjoying their
simple meal.

 
    A nearby
neighbor cautiously approached from behind the bus. Paul rushed to intercept
from his watchful position beyond the breakfast lines. This man was the first
to approach their group at the actual bus; they’d socialized briefly with
others the day before but only away from their central hub. He looked timid,
almost with a burdening force visually weighing on his shoulders. Walking up to
the group of church socialites was an obvious chore for the scrawny man.

 
    Paul
slowed a few feet from him with his hands extended outward. All conversation
around the cereal buffet ceased in a curious anticipation. Their leader looked
one and a half times the size of the approaching neighbor. When Paul spoke he
seemed to broadcast his voice more than necessary almost like he wanted the
whole area to hear. “Whoa there, friend,” he bellowed. “We’d love to get to
know you but let’s chat after breakfast. We got a little girl and some older
folks here so I don’t want anyone getting spooked.” Jessica’s blood boiled at
his use of Ava as a deterrent.

 
    The man
drooped his head with thin blond hair. Sorrow exuded from the man like the
waiving of a white surrender flag. Then he answered Paul’s warning, “I don’t
mean to trouble you.”

 
    Paul
interrupted him arrogantly, “good! Come on back later today so we can get to
know you.”

 
    “ No. …” the little man said back with
startling determination. “I can’t come back later. I need to talk to you now.”

 
    After
wiping milk from her red lips, the makeup-plastered woman with a New York
accent called to them, “ease up, Paul. Pastor Doug would have let the man
speak.” A couple quieter voices mumbled agreement with her guilt trip.

 
    He rubbed
his temples with those big hands while visibly weighing options. Thirty seconds
passed without anyone speaking. Finally Paul said, “alright, alright. I’m sorry
to have come off so harshly, sir. How can we help you?”