False Prey: A Wildfire Novella (Wildfire Saga) by Marcus Richardson Page A

floor. He pressed the handkerchief closer into his mouth on instinct.
    The motel owner curled into the fetal position laying on his left side, his hands wrapped around his knees in a vain effort to control the violent shaking of his body. “I don’t think I have much time...”
    “Don’t say that,” said Danny. “The parking lot is crawling with cops and EMTs.   Just wait right here, and I’ll go get one and be right back.”
    “Don’t waste your time,” said the owner, his teeth still clamped tight. His eyes opened and Danny could see the red tinge around the whites of his eyes. Danny squinted in the poorly lit office. It also appeared as if his ears were darker than before.  
    “Haven’t eaten anything in two days because my damn stomach has been tied up in knots. Had a fever all last night too,” the man said with a weak smile. “I ain’t getting out of this one.   I knew going along with the crowd on Sunday was a bad idea…”
    His bloodshot eyes locked on Danny’s. “I can…” the man coughed, a wet sucking sound. It sent a shiver down Danny’s spine. The last time he heard someone cough like that had been when he was covering The Great Pandemic a decade ago. “I can feel this shit in my lungs… Making it hard to breathe…”
    “Jesus,” Danny whispered. He took another step back, but couldn’t take his eyes away from the man lying on the floor.
    “I don’t want to die,” the motel owner said in a ragged voice. He closed his eyes and coughed again, hacking up a glob of nastiness that he spit on the floor. “ God , that hurts,” he said. His eyes fluttered open, the red-rimmed eyes bored into Danny. “You’re a reporter,” he muttered.
    “Yes,” Danny stammered.
    “Good,” said the motel owner. His body was wracked again by another powerful cough. “Then promise me…print this whole nasty story when I’m gone. Spread the truth about this town. What they did to that poor man,” he said. He closed his eyes again and sighed, a ragged stuttering sound. “I want everyone to know I had nothing to do with this.”
    “But you told me that you gave them the key to my room?” prodded Danny.   He felt uncomfortable questioning a dying man, but part of him had to find the truth—had to ask while there was still time.
    “The only reason I let them have the key was because I knew they would kick the door down anyway. That poor man didn’t stand a chance. When Mosby showed up with all his goons, and then the cops showed up, I knew there was no way out for him.   I never wanted anyone to get hurt…”
    Righteous indignation flared in Danny’s stomach. The handkerchief dropped away from his mouth for a moment. “So he didn’t commit suicide?”
    The motel owner laughed, a sickening sound interrupted by wet coughs and another seizure fit. “Are you serious?They hogtied that boy then cut him open like a Sunday buck.” The man was seized by another strong seizure, gasping for breath all the while. After a long moment, he was finally able to draw a ragged breath. His eyes fluttered open and Danny could see now that it was clear the skin around the man’s ears was definitely darker.
    “What are you looking at?”
    “Nothing,” Danny stammered. “It’s…it’s just that… Well, your ears seem to be a little dark. Like the skin is changing color.” Danny quickly put the handkerchief back over his mouth.
    “Told you it was the damn Blue Flu, didn’t I?” The dying man’s rough laugh was interrupted by coughs and shaking. His head dropped to the cold floor and his eyes fluttered open again. He rolled onto his back and his shoulders flopped into the sticky vomit on the floor. He took a deep sigh and stared at the ceiling. “Won’t be long now,” he said.  
    “I can feel it eating away at my lungs,” he whispered. “Kinda tickles.”   He lifted his right hand slightly off the floor and pointed at Danny.   The fingers quivered. “You make sure and spread the word that