Free The Last Five Days: The Complete Novel: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller by Paul Seiple Page A

something.
    "She's infected."
    "I thought the infected were dangerous?"
    "I locked her in the guest bedroom. They're going to find a cure. Anyway, I gotta go. You should get inside."
    "Can I come with you?"
    Winston didn't answer.
    "You're going to need someone to help you with that." Melanie pointed to Winston's arm. "I was an ambassador in the Girl Scouts."
    Winston smiled. "I have no idea what that means."
    "I just don't want to be alone."
    "All right. You can come, but the house is a mess."
    Melanie rolled her eyes. They started walking.
    "Do you really think they are going to find a cure for this?"
    "You know that doctor from the CDC? She gave me some valuable information to give to Dr. Salk. I was going to see him today but got a little sidetracked." Winston smiled again.
    "You got sidetracked? My boyfriend turned out to be a serial killer who's been stalking me since New York."
    "Yeah, well, I had to shoot Jimbo Brookside."
    "What's this world coming to, Winston?"
    Winston fought hard not to say “an end.” Stay positive, he thought. "I don't know, but we're still here." He wasn't sure that was a good thing. The chance of seeing a cure was slim. The chance of ever leaving Black Dog was non-existent.
    "So, what are we going to do tomorrow?"
    Get gas. Talk to Salk. "Tomorrow, we keep living."

Day Three

    The Smoker

    I was taught that the human brain was the crowning glory of evolution so far, but I think it's a very poor scheme for survival.
    -Kurt Vonnegut

    N icotine —it's the sharpest double-edged sword. It calms...and it kills. Winston took a puff, pulled the cigarette from his lips, and watched the smoke. He used to be a heavy smoker, at least a pack a day. And then his grandmother died of lung cancer. Winston tried to give up smokes cold turkey, but the allure was too much. Finally, after a few nicotine gums, it stuck. Winston grew to hate the taste, the smell, and the control cigarettes had over him. He watched the smoke plume and whisk away into the slight breeze. Years of abstinence floated in the trail. This cigarette was like reuniting with a long lost volatile lover — so wrong, but for a few minutes, so right. The pleasure was worth the consequences.
    "I didn't know you smoked," Melanie said, stepping out onto the front porch. She stretched her arms above her head, reaching as far as she could, and then inhaled fresh air. Surprisingly, the stench of rotting corpses was minimal. The virus had a way of masking decay.
    Winston stopped rocking and shielded the cigarette from Melanie in act of shame. "I quit about fifteen years ago."
    "Around five years for me. Got one to spare?" Melanie smiled.
    Winston pulled a pack from his inside jacket pocket. "Lifted these from Jimbo yesterday."
    He offered a cigarette to Melanie. She lit up and blew smoke into the air.
    "How's the arm?"
    "Better. Thanks for digging the bullet out. Did they teach you that in Girl Scouts?"
    Melanie shook her head. "Nope, got those handy medical skills from Grey's Anatomy ."
    "I should have watched more television." Winston puffed again. "These things really are the devil." He held the cigarette out. Ashes fell to the porch from the burning tip.
    Melanie put the cigarette to her lips without responding.
    "I don't know what's more insane; us being trapped here by our own government or Dean following you from New York. Do you really think he was one of those assholes who robbed you that night?"
    Melanie blew smoke. "I know he was. He knew everything about that night. Every little detail."
    "Just crazy."
    "Yeah. So, what's the plan for today?"
    "At some point, we need to find some gas for the generator. The food's probably bad, but it would be nice to have a little electricity. It's getting colder. We'll need to find wood for the fireplace."
    "I got that covered. Jerry brought me a load last week."
    "First, we need to try to find Salk. When I talked to Byrd, she was sick, but not to the point she couldn't function. She told me a bunch of