Preview of the first chapter of “ZA Virus”
Hilton lurched out of the Long Street alley, into the golden light of a perfect Cape Town autumn evening. The sun just down behind Signal Hill; hardly any wind, just a touch of chill to the air – a magic time, lifting the spirits of everyone around.
Except Hilton. His understated plaid shirt was caked in blood and vomit, the buttons largely undone. His burgundy chinos were ripped, his Green Cross sandals filthy and stained. His eyes were so bloodshot it was hard to make out any white, his neat goatee had unidentifiable lumps in it. All he could see was the light; all he could think of was to go towards it.
Behind him, the carcass of the dog and the still-twitching body of the vagrant were near-invisible in the alley, behind the wheelie bins. The virus still in them was dying now, as their cells slowly switched themselves off. Even if it had been sentient enough to care, that was no problem.
It had a new host now.