Page 3 of Outbreak

“Maybe he’s sick? Or asleep?” Noah offers as we walk down the deserted dorm hallway.

“You think he’s got whatever this virus is that’s going around?” I ask, slightly concerned considering the school felt the need to shut down all classes to stop the spread on campus. This is a stupid idea. “Maybe we should stay in?”

“We’re going,” Mallory insists, her platform wedges clicking against the hardwood floor as she practically drags me through the building. “I’m sure Josh is already there and just can’t hear his phone. He’s fine.”

The chilly fall air bites into my bare arms as we walk right out the front door. We’re not supposed to be mingling with the sickness going around. My guess is the people who didn’t head home to quarantine with their families are either holed up in the rooms, like we’re supposed to be, or they’ve already snuck offbehind campus to the party. Either way, we don’t see anyone on our way off the property.

“Watch your step, Mal. You’re going to break your neck in those death traps,” I say, steadying her on her feet when she stumbles over tree roots and slides in the soft marsh. That’s the thing about swamps. You never know if the ground will be solid or shift beneath your feet.

“Girl, please. My mama put me in heels as soon as I could stand on my own. I’m a professional, born and bred beauty queen. Pageant life is its own Olympic sport,” she retorts a little out of breath but back to standing on her own again.

The lights from the party come into view up ahead. Music spills from the abandoned Victorian house that looks like something straight out of a horror movie. Students are already plastered, littering the yard in various states of undress.

“Looks like we’re late—we've got some catching up to do! I’ll go find us drinks,” Mallory says as she surveys the idiots around us before strutting up the worn-down steps like a woman on a mission. Noah and I follow behind her.

I love old houses, especially weathered ones like this, with the white paint faded on the splintered wood siding. It feels eerie out here in the middle of the swamp, distressed by Mother Nature’s unforgiving forces that plague these parts. Hurricanes and flooding are common occurrences here, but this ol' girl’s still standing despite it all. The porch might be leaning, but she’s still here.

So am I…

CHAPTER 2

Rue

The music is so loud when we step inside the house; the old wooden floor vibrates beneath my boots. Someone set up some serious speakers—I can’t even think straight over the blaring beats ofPaint The Town Redby Doja.

“I’m going to find Josh,” I yell, pulling Noah’s arm and spinning him to face me as the crowd swallows Mallory.

He nods at me, motioning with his free arm to lead the way. I’ll never find him in this shoulder to shoulder mess down here, so I pull Noah behind me and head for the stairs. Maybe I’ll be able to scan the people and spot him from the second floor. I remember Josh taking me upstairs the last time we were here, so I know there are bedrooms up there I can check, too.

The atmosphere is weird tonight. There’s too many people, and the energy doesn’t feel like a normal drunken party. Chaos and something unknown smothers my senses, leaving me stumbling through the crowd as my breath punches in my lungs and my heart beats wildly against my ribs.

Something is fuckingoff.

I’ve always been an empath, able to feel emotions and energies inside my body that don’t belong to me. It drove me crazy when I was a kid, not understanding how to process theemotions I was feeling or why. It made the foster homesrealfun. The second I stepped foot in my last foster house, a black aura swallowed me up. I didn’t have trouble naming the feeling drowning me.

It was Death.

Putrid and decaying flesh imprinted into my nostrils, as if they’d filled the house with a thousand dead bodies. But there were none. Just the overwhelming presence of death in the air as they closed the door after the social worker left and led me downstairs to the basement. It was weeks before I was allowed out of the basement and into the common spaces in the house. They claimed it was for safety, and maybe I would have believed them if I couldn’t feel the energy seeping out of their pores in waves. I’m not psychic or telepathic. I just know things sometimes. Call it empathy—intuition—but it’s saved my life more times than I can count.

This feels a whole lot like that. My pulse pounds erratically in my ears, my blood whooshing through my veins with electricity that sets me on edge. Writhing bodies shove us back and forth as we push forward to the staircase. It takes everything I have to hold onto Noah’s hand so we don’t get separated. Something deep in my gut screams at me: Don’t let go!

“Hold on!” I yell back at him, gripping his hand tighter and pulling us through the masses. The tip of my boot catches on the bottom step as someone shoves past us, my face nearly smashing into the stairs, but I catch myself. “What the fuck, dude! Watch where you’re going!”

The dark hooded figure doesn’t even slow down as they race up the stairs two at a time, not letting me get a look at the asshole's face!

“Fuck sake! Are you okay?” Noah shouts, pulling me back to my feet and steadying me.

“I’m fine,” I huff, pushing my black hair out of my face and tucking the pink peek-a-boo streaks behind my ear. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone tonight?”

“Bitch, I don’t even know. It feels 50 shades of fucked up in here, though.”

Noah follows behind me as we climb to the next floor. There’s a small landing with a balcony overlooking the downstairs area. “Just help me find Josh, and then you can go hunt down your prey for the evening. If we don’t have any luck in 30 minutes, we head back to the dorms, binge-watchVampire Diaries,and steal Mallory’s wine.”

“Deal,” he says, his shit eating grin nearly splitting his face in two.

Rolling my eyes at his fuckboy antics and shoving down the impending doom I feel in the air, we scan the crowd below for my douchey ‘boyfriend’ who couldn’t be bothered to return a fucking text message today.

“Maybe he stayed in the dorms like a good little boy?” Noah asks.

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