Read Online No Dawn without Darkness: No Safety In Numbers: Book 3 by Dayna Lorentz - Free Book Online
Authors: Dayna Lorentz
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when I got sick; apparently, they have gotten worse.
Ryan.
I have to get out of here. I have to find him.
The IV needle slides easily from my skin. The bag containing my extremely necessary penlight is not beside the bed on the floor, it’s not on top of the sheets, it’s not under them. But there is something poking my leg. Not my bag, but a notebook and laptop.
The light from the computer’s login screen is like a beacon. I can make out the whole room—though it’s just different depths of shadow. It’s a stockroom. There are other beds—beds with bodies in them. Not one of the bodies moves, though, nor did any answer when I called.
I’m in a morgue.
No. It can’t be. In front of me is a table. It’s messy with papers and pill bottles, IV bags filled with fluid. A stethoscope. Doctor things for living patients. There’s one chair. A mug. Is that shiny thing a food wrapper?
I dive out of bed. There’s some liquid in the cup. Black coffee? I’m so thirsty, I don’t care. There are crumbs in the wrapper. They are delicious.
The computer lies open on my bed, tilted back in the sheets. Its light shows the trickle from the ceiling. There’s a crack in the concrete.
Two other beds are lined up next to mine. I think the girls in them are Preeti’s friends. I wait, watching. Yes, the sheet moved. They are alive. This is definitely not a morgue.
The building groans again. The drip that had been falling onto my pillow is now a steady stream, glittering in the dim light.
Where is this water coming from?
My bag is not hanging anywhere near my bed. I sweep the floor with the computer screen and find a dead guy. He’s slumped against the footboard of my gurney. But he’s not dead from the flu. This guy’s been shot.
It’s Dr. Chen—the man in the hazmat suit that I pulled from the rubble after the riots, when we were first locked in. He was there when I found Nani. And now he’s been shot.
Security wouldn’t shoot the doctors, would they? I mean, Ryan said they were out of control, but that out of control?
Mike has a gun. And he’s crazy enough to shoot people. But if Mike is shooting doctors, it means the whole mall society—security, rules, everything—is gone. There’s nothing holding Mike or anyone else back.
Breathe .
The login on the computer screen is automatically filled in as “SChen.” This is Dr. Chen’s computer. I check the notebook; it’s also his.
Did he leave me a note? Is that why this was in my bed?
Most of the notebook is all incomprehensible doctor babble. I skip to the end, where I guess he would have left his note to me. On the last page, Tamiflu? is circled. Then there’s this: Evidence suggests mutation Stonecliff 2 is far less virulent. Appears vaccine effective at producing relevant antibodies. Hypothesize standard antivirals may also prove effective at decreasing mortality rates. Continuation of quarantine unnecessary—no risk of pandemic from Stonecliff 2.
I have to steady myself against the wall. Is this what I think it is? Yes. It’s right there. Quarantine unnecessary. They can let us out. This can all be over.
Then why are we still here?
The government doesn’t know. I bet even the senator doesn’t know. Of course they don’t know. We’d be out of here if they knew.
I have to tell them.
I sit the laptop in a dry corner of my bed and shake the girl closest to me—Sahra, I think.
“Wake up!” I yell.
We will get out of here. We will run to the HomeMart and bang on the door until they let us in. I’ll show them the notebook. We can get out of here. All of us—Preeti, the girls, me, Ryan. This nightmare can end!
Sahra rolls her head on the pillow, grumbles something about hating grilled peppers, and falls back asleep.
I shake her again. She must wake up. The stream of water from the crack in the ceiling has become a veritable waterfall.
Oh no.
The ice skating rink is above Harry’s. If there’s no power, there’s nothing to keep the rink
Ryan.
I have to get out of here. I have to find him.
The IV needle slides easily from my skin. The bag containing my extremely necessary penlight is not beside the bed on the floor, it’s not on top of the sheets, it’s not under them. But there is something poking my leg. Not my bag, but a notebook and laptop.
The light from the computer’s login screen is like a beacon. I can make out the whole room—though it’s just different depths of shadow. It’s a stockroom. There are other beds—beds with bodies in them. Not one of the bodies moves, though, nor did any answer when I called.
I’m in a morgue.
No. It can’t be. In front of me is a table. It’s messy with papers and pill bottles, IV bags filled with fluid. A stethoscope. Doctor things for living patients. There’s one chair. A mug. Is that shiny thing a food wrapper?
I dive out of bed. There’s some liquid in the cup. Black coffee? I’m so thirsty, I don’t care. There are crumbs in the wrapper. They are delicious.
The computer lies open on my bed, tilted back in the sheets. Its light shows the trickle from the ceiling. There’s a crack in the concrete.
Two other beds are lined up next to mine. I think the girls in them are Preeti’s friends. I wait, watching. Yes, the sheet moved. They are alive. This is definitely not a morgue.
The building groans again. The drip that had been falling onto my pillow is now a steady stream, glittering in the dim light.
Where is this water coming from?
My bag is not hanging anywhere near my bed. I sweep the floor with the computer screen and find a dead guy. He’s slumped against the footboard of my gurney. But he’s not dead from the flu. This guy’s been shot.
It’s Dr. Chen—the man in the hazmat suit that I pulled from the rubble after the riots, when we were first locked in. He was there when I found Nani. And now he’s been shot.
Security wouldn’t shoot the doctors, would they? I mean, Ryan said they were out of control, but that out of control?
Mike has a gun. And he’s crazy enough to shoot people. But if Mike is shooting doctors, it means the whole mall society—security, rules, everything—is gone. There’s nothing holding Mike or anyone else back.
Breathe .
The login on the computer screen is automatically filled in as “SChen.” This is Dr. Chen’s computer. I check the notebook; it’s also his.
Did he leave me a note? Is that why this was in my bed?
Most of the notebook is all incomprehensible doctor babble. I skip to the end, where I guess he would have left his note to me. On the last page, Tamiflu? is circled. Then there’s this: Evidence suggests mutation Stonecliff 2 is far less virulent. Appears vaccine effective at producing relevant antibodies. Hypothesize standard antivirals may also prove effective at decreasing mortality rates. Continuation of quarantine unnecessary—no risk of pandemic from Stonecliff 2.
I have to steady myself against the wall. Is this what I think it is? Yes. It’s right there. Quarantine unnecessary. They can let us out. This can all be over.
Then why are we still here?
The government doesn’t know. I bet even the senator doesn’t know. Of course they don’t know. We’d be out of here if they knew.
I have to tell them.
I sit the laptop in a dry corner of my bed and shake the girl closest to me—Sahra, I think.
“Wake up!” I yell.
We will get out of here. We will run to the HomeMart and bang on the door until they let us in. I’ll show them the notebook. We can get out of here. All of us—Preeti, the girls, me, Ryan. This nightmare can end!
Sahra rolls her head on the pillow, grumbles something about hating grilled peppers, and falls back asleep.
I shake her again. She must wake up. The stream of water from the crack in the ceiling has become a veritable waterfall.
Oh no.
The ice skating rink is above Harry’s. If there’s no power, there’s nothing to keep the rink
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