Wildfire: Destruction of the Dead

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The morning sun peeked through the high clouds and cast a cold light over the distant cliffs and beaches. Standing on the deck of The Big Easy, the metal of the safety railing cold against my palms and the boat rolling easily on the gentle waves, I felt a heavy dread in the pit of my stomach. I was trying to remember why I had volunteered to distribute the antivirus to the survivors on the mainland.

I should run from the danger that lurked beyond those cliffs, not willingly go toward it. Any sane person would turn the boat’s nose out to the open sea and give the engines full throttle until the coastline was nothing more than a bad memory.

If it weren’t for the fact that my brother, Joe, and my parents were alive somewhere on the mainland, I wouldn’t hesitate to flee to the relative safety of the sea.

But as long as there was a slim hope of finding my family, I couldn’t run. I had to fight. I had to risk my life in a land infested with zombies and hybrids until I found the people I loved. Leaving Joe and my parents to their fate was not an option.

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