Beautiful Death (Bella Morté Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

At first she laid where she dropped with her head lifted up off the ground like a drunk who slipped off the barstool. That was the second time her head damn near went through the wall. She felt another egg growing in the back, giving rival to the one in front. Slowly, she sat up, pushing herself to the wall to rest against it. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she glanced up at him. They say the skull is made of unbreakable bone, but that was the second time in one night someone used her as a battering ram.

Slowly she picked herself off the ground, still using the wall as a brace as she glared at him through half-closed lids. “What the fuck was ‘at for?” She didn’t move, just glared, but if looks could kill. “Other ‘an givin’ me a concussion.”

“Safety measures.”

Her hands, flat against the wall, pushed her to a standing position, struggling not to stagger and fall back. “What the fuck, dude? Let me guess. You were arrested for bein’ an asshole.” Feet shuffled as she slowly made her way to the door. Gripping it, she shook the bars. “You’ve had your fun. Now, open the fuckin’ door.”

“No can do. It’s a precaution until I know which way you’re going.”

“Which way I’m goin’? Obviously I’m not
goin’
a fuckin’ place locked in here!” He walked over to the desk, not answering her. “I killed the cop, came in here an’ saved you, an’ this is how ya show your thanks? Ya lock me up?”

“Yep.”

“What the fuck kinda justice is ‘at?” She screamed, rattling the bars again.

“Trust me. You’re safer in there than you are out here.”

“Trust you? I just saved your ass an’ ya threw me against the wall an’ locked me up!” She sat back down on the bench, still glaring at him. “Trust is the
last
thing I feel for you.”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It
is
bad.”

He opened the drawer, dropping the keys inside, before closing it again. “Once the coast is clear, I’ll be back.” Grabbing the gun off the top of the desk, he headed for the door.

“Wait. What? You can’t leave me here!”

“Trust me. I’ll be back.”

“Oh, that fills me with such comfort.” She rolled her eyes. “Have ya seen what’s goin’ on out there?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried about your stupid ass. I’m worried about me! What if ya don’t come back? What the fuck happens to me?”

He smirked. “I’ll be back.”

“Asshole! Get back here an’ let me out!” He disappeared out the door. “You better hope I don’t get outta here. You are dead. Do ya hear me? Dead!” She grunted, lying down on the bench. “Man I could use a fuckin’ beer!”

Three

Vince Moore came from a long line of men in the service. They believed it was their civic duty, as well as the human responsibility to keep the country safe from all harm. That was the reason he chose this division. It was like the
Men in Black
, only no one forced him to wear a suit.

His brown hair cropped Army-style short, caused blue eyes to stand out. Buff, cut; he had the perfect male body with less than three percent fat. Before his job became one workout after another, he was in the Gym keeping in shape. Even though he was in his late twenties, no one would guess that by his boyish appearance; he was much older in spirit.

A few hours later, he walked back to the room, dropping a pile of weapons on the desk, and sat in the chair staring at her. “Sorry, I’m all out of beer. The building is now free of the infected. Other than you, that is.”

Turning, she glared at him again before sitting up on the bench. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, it didn’t take long before the Zippo snapped closed and she inhaled deeply. Shoving both back in her pocket, she never took her eyes off him. They held the quiet staring contest until she spoke. “What do ya mean
other than me
?” She slowly blew smoke rings, watching them dissipate in thin air. “I’m not infected.”

“Oh no? You don’t think so?”

“No, I
know
so.”

“Uh-huh. Then how do you explain the pus on your arm, which you’ll feel the effects of
that
before too long.”

She didn’t answer. “Who the hell are you?”

“Vince Moore. It doesn’t sound anything like James Bond though we have the same type of job.” He wiggled his brows. “Moore.” Tilting his head, he gave a comical expression. “Vince Moore.” Chuckling, he slowly shook his head. “See, it just doesn’t have the same effect.”

“Well, at least
you
think you’re all that.”

He smirked. “What about you? What should I call you?”

“Dani. What the fuck’s goin’ on? It’s a madhouse out there.”

“Oh you noticed, did you?”

“It’s kinda hard to miss.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not pretty.”

“I heard how bath salts caused people to tear off faces. Is ‘at what happened?”

He snorted. “I wish it was bath salts. We could get a grip on that. No, this is the Bella Morté virus.”

Confused, she brought her foot up to rest flat on the bench while taking a drag off her cigarette. Slowly, she exhaled. “The… what virus?”

“Bella Morté.”

“What is ‘at? Is this a Twilight reference? Should I convert from Team Jacob to Team Bella now?”

He snickered, shaking his head. “Jokes. Good to see you’re keeping your humor. The Bella Morté virus is… Hmm, how to explain it?”

“It’s not that hard.” Resting an arm on her knee, she exhaled loudly. “Most people start at the beginnin’.”

He winked. “Okay, but you asked for it. I work for a company called Clover Labs.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“You wouldn’t have. We’re what you call a government funded underground facility.”

Nodding, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, one of those.”

“I was actually created for this virus.”

“Wait. You were…
created
?”

“Yep, assuming you have what it takes, you’re about to be created as well.”

“Thanks, but I already have a job.”

“Maybe so, but you’re also infected.”

She took another drag, watching him, before flicking the ashes on the floor. “If I’m infected, as ya claim, then why aren’t I tryin’ to eat your ass?”

“Just like everything else in this world, it moves in stages.”

“An’ I thought it was just a figure of speech when they claimed the world is a stage.”

He pointed to the
no smoking
sign hanging on the wall. “You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to be smoking in here.”

“Then fuckin’ arrest me, Deputy Dawg. Oh wait,” she glared at him, “ya already did.”

“Touché.” Nodding, he stood and walked around to the front of the desk, taking a seat on the edge. “Okay, the simple version is there’s a virus running through your veins.”

“Isn’t that what they normally do?” Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled. “How did I get it?”

“When you were bitten.” He pointed to his arm. “You see that pus on your arm?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s how it starts.”

“So I’m gonna turn into those freaks outside?”

“I don’t know yet.”

She sighed, taking another long drag off her cigarette. “Well
Mr. Know it all
, why don’t ya tell me what ya
do
know.”

“It kills some and turns others into… well… the living dead for lack of a better word, which is the biggest oxymoron.”

“You mean those things out there are zombies?”

“No. Zombies are dead, for one thing. They’re reanimated to walk the Earth looking for brains, but there’s just one problem with that.”

“Not enough brains in the world to feed them?”

He smirked. “They don’t exist. It’s like vampires, werewolves, goblins: fictional creatures. Trust me. I would know.”

“Stop tellin’ me to trust you after what ya did.”

He chuckled. “Do you want me to tell you or are you going to do your own little standup comedy special?” She merely stared at him, quietly smoking her cigarette in answer. “The living dead I’m referring to are alive. It’s just right now they’re basically brain dead.”

“Brain dead? They move pretty damn fast to have no brainwaves.”

He shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. It’s almost as if they’ve reverted back to animal instincts.”

She arched her brow. “Which are?”

“Eat, kill, and survive.”

“All because of a virus?”

He nodded. “Yes. It affects the brain.”

“Why didn’t it infect you?”

He shrugged. “I was infected, but I survived.”

“What’s the survival ratio?”

“Not many.”

“Just kill me now an’ get it over with then.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not sure if you’re going to become one of them or not.”

Rolling her eyes, she took another drag off her cigarette. “You’re just full of sunshine. You said
created
. What do ya mean?”

“If you survive, it does certain things to you, gives you attributes.”

“How long does the incubation period last?”

“About a week.”

“Lovely. What are the symptoms?”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled. “The first day you suffer a high-grade fever, and it feels like your head’s about to explode.”

Taking another drag off her cigarette, she nodded. “I’m with ya so far. My head is killin’ me. Then again, it’s been bashed through a few walls.”

“It gets worse.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

He smirked. “Second day, there’s a lot of sweating, and your headache gets worse.”

“Terrific! An’ I get to suffer in this cell.”

“The third day it feels like you’re burning if light touches your skin.”

She pointed over at the flashlight he sat on his desk. “Light?”

“No, I mean sunlight.”

“Sounds like a vampire.”

“Something like that. Fourth day, you want blood and raw meat. Those not strong enough actually eat their own flesh to fulfill that craving. They’re the truly infected.”

“What the fuck kinda virus is this?”

“I’ll get to that in time.”

She blinked. “This
creation
procedure sounds a lot like torture.”

“It does and feels like it too. However, on the fifth day… if you have what it takes… you’re perfectly fine.” He smiled, holding his hands out to his sides. “Like me.”

“That remains to be seen,” she said, sarcastically.

“Be warned. Out of twenty people, only five survived. Our job is to kill the infected and find the survivors.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. Trust,” he paused, rolling his eyes. “You’ll see.”

“This shit is too surreal! What brought it on?”

Pushing off the desk, he moved around to settle back down in the chair. “Later, when I see you’re part of the cured, I’ll fill you in on the rest of what you need to know such as the different types.”

Arching her brow, she watched him. “What do ya mean different
types
?”

“In a week, when you’ve passed the initiation, I’ll fill you in.”

“An’ if I don’t pass?”

He shrugged. “Then it won’t matter because I have reserved a bullet for your brain.”

“Some initiation. Can’t I just steal a car like most other gangs? Get my ass beat by every member?” Lying back on the cot, she took a drag off her cigarette. “Kill the person ‘at flashes their lights to warn me I’m drivin’ with mine off? Pick one. I’ll do it.”

“No, ma’am. It’s all par for the course. I’ll be here with you through it all so you won’t be alone.”

“Gee. My hero. I can’t tell ya how happy that makes me.” Sarcasm laced through her words like a crocheted afghan as she rolled her eyes.

“In time.”

Four

“
What are you doing? Stop it. Todd that hurts! Ow, get off me! Candice, please help m
--” That scream first shattered the silence. Back in the middle of the thick woods, at a West Virginia campsite, it was the
last
thing you wanted to hear.

Candice sat up. Her brown hair streaked with blonde highlights stood on end from sleeping deep within her warm cocoon. “Janet? What’s wrong?” Bright blue eyes looked around, still half asleep. Reaching down, she unzipped her sleeping bag, kicking to be free. “
Janet? Are you okay?
”

Alerted by all the yelling, Zach sat up, looking around curiously. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Janet screamed. Did you hear her?”