The Bug: Complete Season One by Barry J. Hutchison Page B

stopping?”
    BOOM! Wayne hit the glass at full speed. The large pane rumbled like thunder as Wayne bounced off, leaving a bloody wad marking where his face had hit.
    Jaden couldn’t stop himself laughing. “Holy shit! Did he forget the door was there? God, why wasn’t I recording that? That’s guaranteed viral right there.”
    Col approached the doors, reaching for the keys Wayne had left him. “He might be hurt.”
    “Dude, he’s definitely hurt,” Jaden said. “Did you see the way he hit the glass? He’s going to be in a coma for, like, a month!”
    “He’s moving,” Col said, fumbling the key in the lock. He was about to turn it and slide open the doors when Wayne rolled over onto his back. Blood gushed from his nose and a gash on his forehead, but it was his eyes that stopped Col turning the key. Something about Wayne’s eyes told Col that turning that key would be a very bad idea.
    “Hey, buddy, you OK?” said Jaden, stepping up to join Col at the glass. He had his phone out and was filming the supervisor lying on the ground. “You wanna look this way for a sec?” He grinned. “Oh, man. I’m totally going to add, like, stars and little tweeting birds round his head before I upload this.”
    Wayne scrambled to his feet, and both Jaden and Col jumped in surprise at how fast he moved.
    “Open!” Wayne hissed, his blood bubbling on his lips and flowing down his chin. He thumped his open hand against the red-streaked glass. His crumpled face twisted into a furious sneer. “Open!” he screamed.
    Jaden glanced sideways at Col. “Does Wayne seem, I don’t know, different to you?”
    Wayne screamed and threw himself at the glass. His nose exploded. He slammed his face forward again, this time busting open his bottom lip. “Open!” he demanded, his voice slurred. “Open, open, open door!”
    Jaden and Col both retreated back past the checkouts. “What the fuck is he doing?” Col gasped, as Wayne smashed his face against the glass yet again. “Should we let him in?”
    “Of course we shouldn’t!” said Jaden. “Look at him.”
    “Maybe he’s just trying to get help.”
    Jaden snorted. “Or maybe he’s trying to feast on our tender young flesh,” he said, “because that bitch right there? That, my friend, is a zombie.”
    “Shut the fuck up. Zombies aren’t real.”
    “Correction. Zombies weren’t real,” Jaden said. Wayne hurled himself at the door again, his fingernails trying to scratch right through the glass. “Until now.”

THE RODGERS’ FLAT, GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
     
25 th MAY, 1:35 AM
     
    Detective Inspector Martin Marshall stared at the naked teenager on the floor. He didn’t bother checking for a pulse. There was no need. She was dead, no two ways about it. The cause of death, though, was a little harder to pinpoint.
    Her head was turned almost 180 degrees on her shoulders. That was the most likely culprit, of course, but there was also a deep tear running right across her throat from one side to the other. From the pattern of blood on the floor and walls around her, it must have sprayed out of the wound like a fountain.
    Marshall looked up. The ceiling was a nicotine yellow, but there was a spattering of crimson, too, showing how high the blood spray had reached. He kept staring at it for a while, pretending there was something really fascinating up there and giving his stomach a chance to settle.
    Steeling himself, he looked down at the girl again. Her bare skin was awash with blood, but through it Marshall could see what looked like bite marks on one of her breasts. Fiery red scratches ran down both sides of her face, visible on her snow white skin even through the blood-slick.
    The girl’s eyes were open, staring hopelessly upwards as if begging some higher power for help. Marshall moved to close them, but a wave of revulsion flooded his stomach, and he found himself stumbling towards the broken remains of the window for fresh air instead.
    He’d seen enough human