The Last Five Days: The Complete Novel: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller by Paul Seiple
Authors: Paul Seiple
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and then down. Blood splattered onto his muddy boots and the wooden floor around him. The sight of the impaled screwdriver caused his head to go dizzy. Jimbo stumbled back, catching the wall just before falling. He slid down the wall.
"I'm really sorry, Winston. It's like I've got the devil in me."
Winston blindly ran his hand over the floor. After at least two splinters stuck in his palm, he tapped the handle of his gun. "It's not the devil. The sickness fills you with rage." Winston flipped over, back to the wall, and pointed the Colt at Jimbo. The hatred in Jimbo's eyes was replaced with fear.
"You're going to shoot me, aren't you?"
Winston thought for a minute and lowered the gun. "Don't make me have to."
"I thought ripping my knee apart was pain. This is worse. You're stronger than you look."
"Adrenaline kicks in when someone is trying to kill you."
"What's going to happen to me, Winston?"
Rage, Winston thought. Choose your words carefully . "I'm going to get you help. The CDC will have a cure soon."
Jimbo smiled. "There's no cure. They don't give a damn about us. You saw the way they killed those people without blinking an eye. We ain't worth shit to them."
"It's different now. Remember that CDC doctor? She told me some things that could lead to a cure."
"Then why did they abandon her here with us? I'm sick, Winston, but I still have my memory. If they didn't care to save their own, they're not saving us."
"I'm not letting anyone else die."
Jimbo laughed. Blood trickled from his nose over his lips. He caught a droplet on his tongue. "Fight till the end, Winston. Show the bastards who's boss." Jimbo laughed louder. It turned into a cough. He covered his mouth. The shed went silent after a few more violent coughs. Jimbo looked at the crimson spittle on his palm. "I never thought my blood would be labeled a deadly weapon."
"You never think about all the things that can kill you. I watched this show about puffer fish a few weeks ago. They have a poison that's like 1,200 times more potent than cyanide."
Jimbo nodded. "Did you ever see that show years ago about the Iceman? I can't remember his name, but his favorite weapon was cyanide."
"I didn't see that."
"You should look it…" Jimbo laughed. "He claimed to have killed over 200 people. Murder was nothing to him. Just like cutting the grass. After killing someone, he probably took a shower and sat on the porch with a glass of sweet tea."
I'd kill for a glass of sweet tea, Winston thought. He chuckled under his breath and tallied his death toll in his head. Not quite Iceman numbers, but it was nearing double digits. "Have you killed anyone, Jimbo?"
Hesitation answered for Jimbo.
"It's OK. You have to live. Don't feel bad for surviving," Winston said.
"I strangled Betty Reed. It wasn't self-defense, Winston. I don't know why I did it. She wasn't a threat to me. Something just took me over. Like a hunger. It felt like my body was starving."
Keratin , Winston thought. Do I tell him? Winston wrestled with telling Jimbo what was causing the hunger that made him kill. He decided it was best not to. "Betty was probably sick."
"It doesn't matter. I took her life."
Winston thought about all the lives he took. The lines were blurred. He didn't know whether the people were alive or dead when he ended their time on Earth. This virus made it nearly impossible to distinguish between life and death. The only sure sign was the cloudy film over the eyes. Getting close enough to determine that was too risky. I had to kill them. Winston repeated those words over and over in his mind.
"How many have you killed?" Jimbo asked.
"I don't know. I try not to think about it. It's a different world, Jimbo. It's all about survival now."
That was a lie. Not the survival part. The death count. Winston knew exactly how many people he killed. The weight of his actions, no matter how necessary, grew heavier. Talking with Jimbo made him think about every person he had murdered. And
"I'm really sorry, Winston. It's like I've got the devil in me."
Winston blindly ran his hand over the floor. After at least two splinters stuck in his palm, he tapped the handle of his gun. "It's not the devil. The sickness fills you with rage." Winston flipped over, back to the wall, and pointed the Colt at Jimbo. The hatred in Jimbo's eyes was replaced with fear.
"You're going to shoot me, aren't you?"
Winston thought for a minute and lowered the gun. "Don't make me have to."
"I thought ripping my knee apart was pain. This is worse. You're stronger than you look."
"Adrenaline kicks in when someone is trying to kill you."
"What's going to happen to me, Winston?"
Rage, Winston thought. Choose your words carefully . "I'm going to get you help. The CDC will have a cure soon."
Jimbo smiled. "There's no cure. They don't give a damn about us. You saw the way they killed those people without blinking an eye. We ain't worth shit to them."
"It's different now. Remember that CDC doctor? She told me some things that could lead to a cure."
"Then why did they abandon her here with us? I'm sick, Winston, but I still have my memory. If they didn't care to save their own, they're not saving us."
"I'm not letting anyone else die."
Jimbo laughed. Blood trickled from his nose over his lips. He caught a droplet on his tongue. "Fight till the end, Winston. Show the bastards who's boss." Jimbo laughed louder. It turned into a cough. He covered his mouth. The shed went silent after a few more violent coughs. Jimbo looked at the crimson spittle on his palm. "I never thought my blood would be labeled a deadly weapon."
"You never think about all the things that can kill you. I watched this show about puffer fish a few weeks ago. They have a poison that's like 1,200 times more potent than cyanide."
Jimbo nodded. "Did you ever see that show years ago about the Iceman? I can't remember his name, but his favorite weapon was cyanide."
"I didn't see that."
"You should look it…" Jimbo laughed. "He claimed to have killed over 200 people. Murder was nothing to him. Just like cutting the grass. After killing someone, he probably took a shower and sat on the porch with a glass of sweet tea."
I'd kill for a glass of sweet tea, Winston thought. He chuckled under his breath and tallied his death toll in his head. Not quite Iceman numbers, but it was nearing double digits. "Have you killed anyone, Jimbo?"
Hesitation answered for Jimbo.
"It's OK. You have to live. Don't feel bad for surviving," Winston said.
"I strangled Betty Reed. It wasn't self-defense, Winston. I don't know why I did it. She wasn't a threat to me. Something just took me over. Like a hunger. It felt like my body was starving."
Keratin , Winston thought. Do I tell him? Winston wrestled with telling Jimbo what was causing the hunger that made him kill. He decided it was best not to. "Betty was probably sick."
"It doesn't matter. I took her life."
Winston thought about all the lives he took. The lines were blurred. He didn't know whether the people were alive or dead when he ended their time on Earth. This virus made it nearly impossible to distinguish between life and death. The only sure sign was the cloudy film over the eyes. Getting close enough to determine that was too risky. I had to kill them. Winston repeated those words over and over in his mind.
"How many have you killed?" Jimbo asked.
"I don't know. I try not to think about it. It's a different world, Jimbo. It's all about survival now."
That was a lie. Not the survival part. The death count. Winston knew exactly how many people he killed. The weight of his actions, no matter how necessary, grew heavier. Talking with Jimbo made him think about every person he had murdered. And
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