The Island - Part 2 (Fallen Earth) Read Online Free

Fever is trying to wipe out the people who can fight it.”
    She looked sideways at me. “And the incubation period dropped. I’m telling you, this isn’t like any sickness we have ever seen.”
    “What it sounds like, is armchair science. I wouldn’t put too much faith in it,” I told her.  “More than likely people see it that way because doctors and nurses are on the front line. It’s like a war. Casualty counts come from the front, not the rear.”
    She acted like she wanted to say more but she had seen the light grow still as well. She quickened her pace. I stretched out mine to keep up. We found Daniel standing near the old graveyard. The beam of the flashlight shot through the tombstones, highlighting some, leaving others standing in eerie silhouettes. 
    The boy stood as still as the slabs of rock reaching up from the ground. I pulled up short and settled deeper in my jacket to ward off the cold. Elsie hurried over to him.
    “What are you doing, Daniel?”
    His head came up suddenly as if the sound of her voice startled him.
    “I’m looking at the new graves.”
    I followed the beam of light to a bare stretch of ground. Chills climbed up my back.
    The old woman pulled him to her and led him away from the cemetery, angling off toward my campsite. I followed along behind them, past the tent, through the twisted maze of wood and weeds, and out onto the little beach. We walked up to the dock silently.
    I made sure both were settled in and took the flashlight before I headed back to the tent. The sight of the massive pile of firewood I’d pulled in earlier played under the tight beam as I approached. Despite the growing cold, I had no desire to build another fire. More than anything, I simply wanted sleep. Whether I would get any, I didn’t know. Every episode with Daniel seemed creepier than the last. The tent beckoned with thoughts of a warm sleeping bag. At the same time, the graveyard loomed across the way, hidden by the darkness but too close for comfort. I finally gave into the weariness and ducked inside.
    Despite having stripped down in cold air, warmth came quickly inside the sleeping bag. I fell asleep with wind tugging at the tent, pondering over gloomy images of scrounging for water and food in a diseased and dying landscape. Fortunately, no dreams came.
    Unfortunately, the wind did. I woke at some point with the tent flapping in earnest. Nearby, trees swayed and shivered, the leaves rustling against each other in a long, hissing sigh. Two hours later the rustling had turned to a roar. The tent, battered by the rising wind, shuddered and lurched. The corners where the stakes were driven had pulled drum tight. I slid over to put my body against the side straining to stay in the ground. The temperature had dropped past chilly into cold. I burrowed deeper into the sleeping bag and pulled the top around my head. 
    I woke again near dawn. Atop the sound of the wind snarling in the treetops came the booming crash of surf pounding the beach. I rose and headed down the little path, emerging on the strip of shoreline that had been so placid the day before. Night still clung to the sky, but not for long. Off to the east gray crept up from the horizon. I couldn’t make out the point or any details past strips of white surging across black as whitecaps crested and broke. High clouds scudded across the sky, obliterating stars only to release them seconds later. Off to the left, Angel bobbed at the dock, her shape an indistinct white blob.
    The wind had switched directions, veering off to the northeast. I cursed under my breath. Wind could be as much of a predictor of weather as looking at a satellite image. We ha d a low pressure bearing down on us. The abrupt change in wind speed overnight indicated a strong difference in the pressure gradient. In simple terms, it meant rain and lots of wind. Depending on what lay farther out at sea, the storm could last days. Or it could pass within a few hours. The only