Read Online The Flu 1/2 by Jacqueline Druga - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jacqueline Druga
Tags: apocalypse, Plague, postapocalyptic, permuted press, influenza, contagious, contagion, flu, infection, infected, vaccine
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Trevor that I’m back on a story tomorrow.” After finishing the hook-up, Bill started to stand as he sneezed again. “Holy Jesus.” He gave his head a quick shake.
Reaching out, Isabella laid her hand on the side of Bill’s face. “You’re a little warm.”
Bill took her hand, kissed it and smiled. “But I feel fine. And hungry...I’m hungry. So how about those sandwiches and we’ll kick back and watch my footage.”
“Sounds good.” After placing a kiss on his cheek, Isabella started to walk away.
“Could you grab me an ice tea if you—” Bill’s head flung forward with another violent sneeze. “Goddamn it!”
A slight chuckle came from Isabella as she walked to the kitchen. She’d get the ice tea for Bill, but she was also getting those cold pills. Even though it amused her at first, she knew it wouldn’t be long before that sneezing started working on her nerves.
* * *
Los Angeles, CA
His words were sluggish and a little slurred when Trevor spoke after splashing his face with cold water in the men’s washroom. “Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.” He grabbed a towel and dried his face. “Fuck.” He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were dark, his face pale. He looked as bad as he felt.
He tried to take a deep breath, but the passage of air didn’t seem to make it past mid-chest before a deep cough occurred. It struggled, hard and thick, as if a barrier reef existed in his bronchial tube and Trevor had to break through. The only thing was, the sledgehammer he used was his cough, and Trevor wasn’t quite in control of that cough.
It caused a sharp dagger of pain at the base of his neck down through the left side of his chest. His face flushed, heating the overly clogged sinus passages and causing them to drain down the back of his throat, choking him. He coughed over and over, out of control. His body shook, his diaphragm fighting and pushing. After what seemed to be a minute of unproductive struggling, Trevor felt a little crack occur, a break through the thick obstacle in his chest. With another cough, the cracking increased and the violent cough ended when the barricade shot from his chest like a rocket, up his throat and into his mouth.
Trevor wanted to gag when the slimy thickness of it hit his tongue and he tasted the chlorine flavor. Instinctively he spit into the sink. He wouldn’t have bothered to look at it had he not noticed how heavy it landed against the porcelain basin. Turning on the faucet, he looked at the phlegm, so thick that it didn’t even budge in the force of the water that beat against it trying to wash it down the drain. It clung there like glue for the longest time, dark eerie green with a tinge of brown.
Trevor was concerned more with getting rid of the unsightly mucus than the odd appearance of it. Feeling victorious, he watched it thin out enough to swirl around before disappearing.
Mission accomplished.
Down in the washroom, Trevor grabbed his thick folder of material and left. The editor had waited long enough. As he walked across the newsroom, he knew that he had to get out of there. Each step through the warm room caused the tickle to start again in his throat, and he fought diligently not to be a hacking fool when he walked into his boss’ office. He wanted to breeze in and shoot out unnoticed.
“Just...” Trevor let out a slight cough, “wanted to drop this off. I...I have to go.” He turned to leave.
Greg Benson looked up from behind his desk. “Whoa, wait. You can’t talk about this?” he called out.
Trevor turned back around. “I’d rather not. Can we do it tomorrow?”
“Holy shit. Look at you,” Greg commented. “Um, yeah, sure.”
“Thanks. I just want to go home and go to bed,” Trevor said. “I feel like shit.”
“You look it.”
“Thanks.” Trevor moved back to the door.
“Get better. You don’t look well. I hope it’s nothing serious,” Greg stated.
“Nah.” Trevor shook his head
Reaching out, Isabella laid her hand on the side of Bill’s face. “You’re a little warm.”
Bill took her hand, kissed it and smiled. “But I feel fine. And hungry...I’m hungry. So how about those sandwiches and we’ll kick back and watch my footage.”
“Sounds good.” After placing a kiss on his cheek, Isabella started to walk away.
“Could you grab me an ice tea if you—” Bill’s head flung forward with another violent sneeze. “Goddamn it!”
A slight chuckle came from Isabella as she walked to the kitchen. She’d get the ice tea for Bill, but she was also getting those cold pills. Even though it amused her at first, she knew it wouldn’t be long before that sneezing started working on her nerves.
* * *
Los Angeles, CA
His words were sluggish and a little slurred when Trevor spoke after splashing his face with cold water in the men’s washroom. “Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.” He grabbed a towel and dried his face. “Fuck.” He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were dark, his face pale. He looked as bad as he felt.
He tried to take a deep breath, but the passage of air didn’t seem to make it past mid-chest before a deep cough occurred. It struggled, hard and thick, as if a barrier reef existed in his bronchial tube and Trevor had to break through. The only thing was, the sledgehammer he used was his cough, and Trevor wasn’t quite in control of that cough.
It caused a sharp dagger of pain at the base of his neck down through the left side of his chest. His face flushed, heating the overly clogged sinus passages and causing them to drain down the back of his throat, choking him. He coughed over and over, out of control. His body shook, his diaphragm fighting and pushing. After what seemed to be a minute of unproductive struggling, Trevor felt a little crack occur, a break through the thick obstacle in his chest. With another cough, the cracking increased and the violent cough ended when the barricade shot from his chest like a rocket, up his throat and into his mouth.
Trevor wanted to gag when the slimy thickness of it hit his tongue and he tasted the chlorine flavor. Instinctively he spit into the sink. He wouldn’t have bothered to look at it had he not noticed how heavy it landed against the porcelain basin. Turning on the faucet, he looked at the phlegm, so thick that it didn’t even budge in the force of the water that beat against it trying to wash it down the drain. It clung there like glue for the longest time, dark eerie green with a tinge of brown.
Trevor was concerned more with getting rid of the unsightly mucus than the odd appearance of it. Feeling victorious, he watched it thin out enough to swirl around before disappearing.
Mission accomplished.
Down in the washroom, Trevor grabbed his thick folder of material and left. The editor had waited long enough. As he walked across the newsroom, he knew that he had to get out of there. Each step through the warm room caused the tickle to start again in his throat, and he fought diligently not to be a hacking fool when he walked into his boss’ office. He wanted to breeze in and shoot out unnoticed.
“Just...” Trevor let out a slight cough, “wanted to drop this off. I...I have to go.” He turned to leave.
Greg Benson looked up from behind his desk. “Whoa, wait. You can’t talk about this?” he called out.
Trevor turned back around. “I’d rather not. Can we do it tomorrow?”
“Holy shit. Look at you,” Greg commented. “Um, yeah, sure.”
“Thanks. I just want to go home and go to bed,” Trevor said. “I feel like shit.”
“You look it.”
“Thanks.” Trevor moved back to the door.
“Get better. You don’t look well. I hope it’s nothing serious,” Greg stated.
“Nah.” Trevor shook his head
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