V-Virus Infected Prequel
Jacky Dahlhaus
Folla Fiction Publishing
First published under the title
Releasing A Vampire
Current version published January 2020
eBook ISBN: 978-1-913592-50-9
Print ISBN: 978-1-913592-60-8
Copyright © 2020 by Jacky Dahlhaus
Book cover design by Linda Gold, edited by Jacky Dahlhaus
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the writer, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Other books written by Jacky Dahlhaus:
V-Virus Infected 1
(previously published under the title:
Living Like A Vampire)
V-Virus Infected 2
(previously published under the title:
Raising A Vampire)
V-Virus Infected 3
(previously published under the title:
Killing A Vampire)
Short Shockers
Short Shockers Vol. 2
(VIP material for newsletter readers only)
Sign up to Jacky D.’s newsletter via her website:
Jackydahlhaus.com
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Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
V-VIRUS INFECTED PREQUEL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
WORD FROM THE AUTHOR
V-VIRUS INFECTED 1
V-VIRUS INFECTED 2
V-VIRUS INFECTED 3
CONNECT
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Acknowledgements
Half of this story was part of the original Living Like A Vampire novel. Hence I would like to thank the people that helped me write that story. This includes my friends Suzie, Bob, Chris, and Stephanie. It also includes Dr. Chloe Alexander of Aberdeen University as well as my Mom and my author friends from the Once Stop Fiction Authors’ Resource Facebook Group; Colin, Terry, and Joy. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
I thank my children and my husband, who had to forgo my company during the evenings I was writing. I love you so much!
Jacky Dahlhaus
V-virus Infected Prequel
by Jacky Dahlhaus
Chapter 1
Fort Sam Houston, San Antonio, Texas
Friday Afternoon, May 7th, 2004
Colonel Terrence J. Henderson, T.J. to his close friends, strode into the conference room with confidence. It was his second year in charge of the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID), and he ran the place as smooth as full-fat vanilla ice cream. That’s what was on his mind, ice cream. As soon as he would be home, he’d make himself one, in a fancy dessert glass. He would put three scoops of vanilla ice cream into the glass, pour chocolate sauce over them, and put in a chocolate flake. He’d possibly pour brandy over the whole and sprinkle crushed hazelnut over it, too. Maybe not. He’d see how he felt about the hazelnut at the time. It also depended if he had some left over in the pantry. He couldn’t remember.
Henderson liked eating ice cream. Not that he had a lot of time to do so. Work kept him in the office most hours, and inside the building it seemed like they were trying to recreate the North Pole, not exactly the place to eat ice cream. As soon as Henderson sat down, the room became quiet. He checked the faces of the attendees and saw the usual staff sitting around the large conference table. It was going to be an ordinary Friday afternoon meeting, with the ordinary last-minute requests. They always wanted so much from him, mostly decisions they didn’t want to make themselves. That heavy burden always fell on him. ‘Just as well they pay me accordingly, so I can eat expensive ice creams while sitting in my Jacuzzi at home,’ he thought.
“What’s the first point on the agenda?” Henderson asked his secretary.
James Brown, not the one you immediately think of but another, much, much less famous one, put a piece of paper in front of his boss.
“Nine items today,” James said. “Most of them to do with the new building equipment and one new project request.” He put his hands on his laptop, ready to take notes.
Henderson’s eyes drifted down to item number five on the agenda. ‘Request to start Project Duchenne,’ it read. He sat up straighter. His cousin twice removed, a boy named Boyd, had muscular dystrophy. Henderson was immediately interested in what Project Duchenne was and couldn’t wait to hear more about it.
Unfortunately, the meeting went on and on, with lots of arguing about money. Most meetings were about money. Had money not been an issue, it would have been a lot faster to get things done, and the army would have functioned very differently. As it was, the spending of every cent had to be fought for.
When the meeting finally arrived at item number five, Henderson sat upright again from his position that had become slumped over the last two hours.
“Who is in charge of Project Duchenne?” Henderson asked.
A woman at the back of the room put up her hand. Henderson hadn’t seen her earlier. How could he have missed her? He took in her mousy brown hair—pulled back into a ponytail, her face devoid of makeup, and her camouflage uniform that almost disappeared in the mass of uniforms in the room, as it was designed to do. ‘That’s why,’ he thought as he forced himself to be interested in this woman, who appeared to have gone through great trouble not to look like a woman.
Henderson liked women to look like women. He didn’t like it at all when they tried to look like men. He was convinced that women were smarter than men, and that was why, through the ages, men had tried their hardest to make sure women didn’t realize this. Making them dress up in the most uncomfortable shoes and pieces of clothing and have them put paint on their faces was part of that plan. It had worked so far. Women who didn’t comply with this visual standard had way too much time on their hand for thinking. Like why they weren’t treated the same or paid as much as men. These women were dangerous to the status quo.
“Who are you?” Henderson asked the plain looking woman.
“Stephanie Bonnetti, virologist and biological weapons expert,” she replied. Without blinking, she stared back at Colonel Henderson.
Henderson now remembered reading her file. She had been lucky to have been born with an excellent memory and capable of very logic thinking. Beside these traits, so also was a go getter. Since joining the force, she had climbed the ranks quickly, and nobody had stood in her way to serve her country to her best ability. There obviously was more to this woman than plain looks.
“We are hoping,” Dr. Bonnetti began to explain, “to create a virus that will enhance the cellular production of a protein called dystrophin, which will result in increased muscle mass. This could be extremely beneficial to muscle dystrophy sufferers but also create more muscle mass in healthy persons, like soldiers of the Special Forces. If we can make it work, we could then offer it to Navy Seals, the Mar
ine Special Operations Command Officers, and the Air Force Tactics Forces as well.”
The heads in the room turned from Dr. Bonnetti to Colonel Henderson as if they were at a tennis match. Colonel Henderson in return turned his head away and stared out of the window, letting everyone wait for his response. He didn’t care about that. He also didn’t care about the soldiers of the other forces. All he cared about were the ground troops. So often they were overlooked. Navy SEALs this, Air Force Officers that. What about the ground troops? They were doing most of the work, keeping things going in this country, keeping people safe. It was time to let them shine for a change. Apart from doing something that could possibly help his cousin Boyd. He faced Dr. Bonnetti again.
“How likely is it that this is going to work?” Henderson asked.
Dr. Bonnetti shuffled some paperwork she had brought and pulled a piece of paper to the front.
She studied it for a moment and when she looked up, she said, “The possibility of success is seventy-nine percent.”
“Do it,” was Henderson’s reply.
The next few minutes of the meeting was about where to get the money from.
Chapter 2
Portland
Friday Afternoon, August 6th, 2004
The sun shone brightly, and I was about to move from my parental home in Portland, Maine, to Bullsbrook, a small countryside town not too far away. I had finished my teaching degree last June and had secured a position as a science teacher at Bullsbrook High. At twenty-two years of age, I looked forward to starting my new life in the idyllic town. I counted myself extremely lucky as not a lot of positions were available in towns like Bullsbrook. To get one first go was like winning the lottery. Everybody from my class envied me. Some fellow students had even offered to trade places with me, but I had refused their bribes. Of course, I had invited them all to come and visit me once I had settled in. I already looked forward to catching up with my university friends and exchanging teaching experiences. Moving out on my own scared me a little, and the thought of having my friends over soon kept me going.
Mom and Dad had dreaded the day of our parting. Even though they had always jokingly asked my two sisters and me when we were finally going to leave, so they could have their own life back, they were sad to see me go for real. I was the last one to leave, and it wasn’t a happy occasion anymore. My oldest sister, Maxine, had left years ago. She had married a naval officer and moved from naval base to naval base with him. We didn’t keep in contact much due to her being a lot older. Six years is like a different generation at that age.
I had a closer bond with Julie, my younger sister by only two years. She hadn’t studied and didn’t get hitched but still wanted to leave home as soon as possible after she had finished high school. Mom had been adamant and very persuasive in keeping her at home for another few years, but Julie’s spirit couldn’t be tamed, and she had left last year when she received a position in an office in the countryside. I never knew exactly what she did in what sort of office. Every time I asked her, my thoughts drifted off as soon as she started the narrative of her answer. Her habit of jam-packing her stories with little details nobody was interested in made your mind seek refuge elsewhere. If somebody would have mentioned the name of the office, I was sure I’d recognize it, though.
Whatever she was doing, she seemed happy, and that was all that was important to me. We didn’t keep in touch anymore as often as I wanted to either, but I heard most of her stories through my parents. They always kept me up to date with news from my sisters.
Mom and Dad stood on their porch to wave me off. As I walked to my car, the amount of stuff filling it amazed me. I didn’t own much, yet my humble belongings took up about all the space safe the driver's seat.
Mom had promised me a few days earlier they would come and visit me as soon as possible. She’d said she didn’t want to interfere with me finding myself in this new town, so they had planned to be over in about a fortnight. The thought of them visiting so soon had made me anxious. I had lain awake at night, tossing and turning with the thought of them coming over when my house would be a mess and my teaching preparations taking up all of my free time. With dread, I had asked to stretch it to four weeks. I nearly fell off my chair when she had agreed.
Mom is the best Mom in the world, but sometimes she can be a little overprotective of her nestlings, so I thought her very brave to let me, the last one, leave the parental house. It would be so empty without any of us three living at home anymore.
The thought had crossed my mind to ask for a teaching job in the city and live at home to keep Mom and Dad company, but when this position in Bullsbrook came up, it was an offer I just couldn’t refuse. Mom had cried when I read out the acceptance letter, and Dad had hugged her, kissed her, and told her everything would be alright. I had felt like the ‘Daughter of Doom,’ but when Dad had looked at me, his eyes told me that he and Mom would be okay. Dad never talked a lot, but I knew he loved Mom very much, and I was sure that together they could withstand all storms, so to speak.
I stuffed the last item, my childhood teddy bear, in the car before walking back to say my final goodbye. Dad had his arm around Mom’s waist as they stood on their porch.
“Please drive carefully, darling,” Mom said with tears in her eyes.
“Nope, I’m going to hit every lamp post on the way, I think,” I joked as I stepped onto the porch.
“Oh, you know what I mean, silly,” and she put her arms around me in a big hug. “Make sure to give us a call when you arrive. I’ll be worried sick if I don’t know you’ve arrived safely.”
“I will, Mom, I will,” I soothed her as I kissed her goodbye. As soon as she let go of me, she blew her nose. I gave Dad a hug and a kiss.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kid,” Dad said with a smile on his face. He never called me Kate. I was always his ‘kid.’
“Well, that basically means I can do anything I want.” I couldn’t help the huge grin on my face.
Mom poked Dad in the ribs with her elbow and gave him her angry stare.
“Ouch!” Dad pretended to be hurt. He quickly replaced his arm around Mom’s waist. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come and help?” Dad asked.
“No, I’m sure. I’ll be alright,” I replied. Again. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked.
I went back to my car, and they both waved as I reversed off their driveway. I honked my horn and waved one more time out of the window before I drove off. I missed them already.
Chapter 3
Bullsbrook
Friday Evening, August 6th, 2004
By the time I arrived in Bullsbrook, it was early evening. The trip was only a good hour’s drive from Portland, but it had been late before I finally left my parent’s place. Mom had done everything in her power to keep me there for as long as she could. This included preparing a cooked lunch which resulted in me leaving later than I had planned.
I had no trouble getting to my new hometown with the help of a map. Once I arrived in Bullsbrook, I pulled over to find the exact location of my new abode. It appeared I wasn’t far from it, and after turning three more corners, I saw it. The house could have been from a fairy tale. It had a black, shingled roof, red weatherboard walls, and white trimmings. An immaculate green lawn lay in front of it. It was love at first sight. It was tiny, but I knew I was going to be happy here.
The owner and landlady, Mrs. Babcock, had told me she lived next door and that I could pick up the keys from her place when I arrived. I parked the car in my driveway and crossed the manicured lawn to Mrs. Babcock’s front door. As I stepped onto her porch, I mused about her name.
Such a weird name, but it would have been a lot worse if the second ‘b’ had been a ‘d.’
I knocked on the front door, stepped back, and waited. The thought entered my mind that I should have let her know what time I would be arriving. Panic squeezed my chest as I thought of the possibility she may not be at home right now. Bingo was a
favorite past-time of the elderly. At least, that’s what Mum once said, much to the annoyance of Dad who had said he’d rather die an early age than play bingo. I peered through the front window to try and detect any sign of life.
To my relief, the front door opened, and I felt a bit embarrassed spying into her home. I stepped back to the door and smiled. In the doorway stood a little, old lady who looked as if she stepped right out of a fairytale. She didn’t look like a wicked witch, though, more like a fairy godmother. She had a tiny, fragile frame and wore a bright turquoise dress with a white, lace collar. Her white hair was stuck up in a huge bun on the back of her head.
Would she topple forward if her hair was cut off?
As I worked on my first impression of my landlady, the old woman did the same of her new tenant. Her eyes, that had a sweet sparkle in them, moved up and down as they took me in. When they finally settled on my face, looking at me through gold-rimmed reading glasses which were balanced halfway on her delicate nose, she smiled at me.
“You must be the new teacher,” she said. Her voice was sweet and melodious with a distinct English accent.
“Yes, I’m Kate Clarke. It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Babcock,” I replied and stuck my hand out.
She took my hand and shook it, her grip remarkably strong for such a tiny frame.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” she said. “Come on in, dearie. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Although I immediately liked the old lady, I had to refuse her offer. There was so much I still needed and wanted to do before going to sleep to sleep.
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