Chapter a Cured
The rocking and swaying were the first things he felt again after the bullets dislodged themselves from his brain, lungs, and heart. The virus was no joke. It could save anyone from death. He found himself laid on the floor of a dark box truck. Freezing metal vibrated against his face, rumbling and moving up and down, sometimes bouncing his head. The air smelled like raw blood, fresh gunpowder, and fresh leaves. The fresh leaf scent was breezing through the crack in the back door. He could hear a slow clutter of weak heartbeats, struggling amongst two others that were still strong. He wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t see anything but the dirty floor in front of his face. Barely, he found the strength to lift his gaze upward, and as he did so, an insuppressible cough spewed a wad of coagulate
- Writer
