SPORE
SPORE Series
Book 1
By
Kenny Soward
Mike Kraus
© 2020 Muonic Press Inc
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without the permission in writing from the author.
Table of Contents
Preface
Introduction
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
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Special Thanks
Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.
Thank you!
SPORE Book 2
Available Here
Preface
Kim Shields, Washington, D.C.
Kim Shields scrolled through emails on her iPhone as she hurried along Maine Avenue SW. It wasn’t the smartest way to work, but she was late for a lunch meeting with her assistant and needed to be up to date on the latest internal CDC announcements by the time she got there.
She read through an update on a viral outbreak at a hospital in Maine and scanned a scientific announcement about a new fungus that had sprung up in the Midwest and was affecting crops. Something about a mutation caused by an unusually wet spring.
Approaching a corner, she glanced up at a crosswalk sign and saw the blinking orange warning hand. So, she stopped and returned to reading her emails. A moment later, the sign made a whistling noise to show it was safe to cross. Kim glanced up to make sure the light was green and stepped into the street.
Someone snatched her by the arm and jerked her back onto the sidewalk.
“Hey!” Kim cried out in surprise. She fumbled her phone and caught it as a truck roared by, whipping her hair around. She glared up at the Durant-Monroe Chemicals truck for a moment, watching as it sped through the intersection before she turned to see who had saved her.
“Sorry about that, ma’am,” a man said, holding up his hand to show he meant her no harm. “It looked like you were about to get smashed flat.”
“Oh, wow,” Kim said as her cheeks blossomed red with embarrassment. “Thank you so much. The crosswalk light was green.”
“Well, that driver ran right through his red light,” he said, offering her an unsteady smile. “I can tell by your accent you’re not from around here. You can’t depend on the signs. Look twice.”
“I will next time.” Kim’s heart was pounding as she put her phone into her purse. She gave the man a weak smile, saying, “Thanks again.” Then she turned back to the street, looked both ways, and crossed.
“You have a nice day!” the man called after her.
“If I don’t accidentally kill myself first,” Kim murmured in her slight twang.
Kim continued walking until she reached Pearl Street, a quaint outdoor shopping center with a cobbled lane, hip storefronts, and a bustling crowd. She turned left and angled toward the Lupo Marino Restaurant.
Kim reached for the door handle of the restaurant but was forced to step back when three men wearing white coveralls and carrying canisters crossed in front of her. She stepped back to let them pass and watched them walk to the corner and enter through an “Employees Only” door. Kim hadn’t caught the company name on the front of their coveralls, and she almost called out to them to see for whom they worked. However, they’d already disappeared inside, and she was late.
Kim entered the restaurant and looked around. Her assistant, Shelly, sat at a table near the door, and Kim crossed over and flashed the blonde a big smile.
Shelly returned the ear-to-ear grin. Then she rose from her chair and gave her boss a cordial embrace. “Hey, Kim.”
“Hi, Shelly,” Kim said. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. How was the drive in?” Shelly broke off the embrace and sat down.
“Very long.” Kim placed her purse on the table and plopped into the chair opposite Shelly. “Twenty-six hours from Ft. Collins to Washington D.C. is no joke, although I have to admit the drive helped clear my head.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Shelly said, “I picked up your apartment key from the landlord then contacted Dr. Flannery. He’s at the CDC offices today and will give you a tour of the facilities around 2:30.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Kim said with a relieved sigh. “That’s a load off my mind.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Shelly shrugged, smiled, and took a sip of her water. She leaned back in her chair. “Have you read your email today? There was an update on the Campylobacter jejuni outbreak. Thirty people across several states. No deaths, but lots of upset stomachs and diarrhea.”
“I did read that.” Kim frowned. “Every person infected had recently purchased a puppy from Happy Pet Farms.”
“And Happy Pet buys puppies from three separate puppy mills. I’m tracing the culprit now.”
“Great,” Kim nodded. “When you find who it is, I want someone down there right away. I want every animal tested.”
“You got it, boss.” Shelly made a note on her phone.
“Anything else today?”
“Just the new fungus hitting those Midwest farms.”
“I read that. Sounds nasty. What’s the damage?”
“In summary, it’s everywhere,” Shelly said with a sigh. “Total destruction of thousands of acres of crops and shipments of produce all across the country. It’s one of the worst outbreaks I’ve seen in a long time.”
“And it’s the perfect season for fungi,” Kim said with a shake of her head. “We’ve had tremendous storms all spring, and I must have
driven through dozens of flooded fields with stunted crops on the way here. Are we going to get samples of this new fungus?”
“I requested some yesterday,” Shelly said. “But, fair warning. Several chemical companies are already saying they solved the problem and are ready to spray.”
“Of course, they are.” Kim shook her head. “Anything to bump their stock price.”
“It’s like the Wild West out there. Soon as they hear about a new fungus, it’s spray-chem first, ask questions later.” Shelly scoffed. “But that’s why you’re the sheriff.”
“Hello, ladies.” A short waitress with a bob of blonde hair and bright blue eyes skipped up to the table. “Now that your friend is here,” she said, flashing Kim a smile, “can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ll have a Coke,” Shelly said.
“Just water for me,” replied Kim.
“Want to put in for any appetizers?” the waitress asked.
Kim found the menu sitting in front of her and picked it up with an apologetic smile. “I haven’t even looked.”
“No problem,” the waitress smiled back. “Take your time. I’ll go get your drinks.”
Kim perused the menu as Shelly continued to talk about work and getting adjusted in Washington after their move from Fort Collins. Kim tried to focus on the menu, but nothing looked appealing. The stress of their new challenges on top of the relocation dropped her appetite through the floor.
She glanced up at the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, and a nearby table drew her eyes. A waiter had been taking someone’s order when he produced a rough cough from deep inside his chest. The force of it caused him to fall forward and throw his hand on the table to catch himself. The waiter coughed again, and then again. Soon, it was an uncontrollable hacking accompanied by a wet sound like he was trying to disgorge a quart of water.
Kim jumped up and wove between several tables until she was standing right behind the coughing man.
“Sir?” she said, reaching to help him. “Are you choking on something? Nod yes if you can—”
Kim looked down. A wet, red puddle with pieces of pink and black tissue glistened on the table, and the customers were pushing themselves away from it with expressions of horror on their faces.
The man was literally hacking up a lung.
Kim hesitated. The black particulates in the coughed-up tissue might mean something infected him. Instead of touching him, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.
The doors to the kitchen burst open, and their waitress staggered into the dining area, followed by a faint drift of light, dusty-black filament. The woman ran straight at Kim, coughing and rasping with violent lurches. Kim backed up in surprise as the waitress clutched at her own throat, her bloodshot eyes bugging out of their sockets.
Shelly must have been right on Kim’s heels, because she ran into her assistant in her attempt to get away, knocking both of them to the ground. She kicked backwards, using her arms to crab-crawl away from the gasping waitress.
“Come on, Shelly!” Kim stopped crawling and grabbed at her assistant. “Stay away from her. She’s—”
The waitress took three more steps, slipped on the damp floor, and face-planted on the tile with a crunch of cartilage. A broken nose wasn’t the worst of her problems. Her neck contorted, ligaments and veins popping out as she seemed to suffocate on something. She clawed at her neck until her skin was minced and bleeding, and blood ran from her broken nose to puddle on the floor. Her eyes pleaded to Kim and Shelly as if they were her last hope.
“Heeeellllp...me,” the woman sputtered, saliva flying from her lips. “Heeeeellllp!”
Shelly got on her hands and knees and crawled toward the woman, but Kim grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards, eliciting a yowl from her assistant.
The waitress coughed a puff of black dust and fell forward to quit breathing all together. Stretched out on the floor, eyes bulging out, the woman stared at Kim with a glare of accusation. Black particulates stained her lips and the edges of her nostrils like some deadly black drug.
“She’s dead,” Shelly whispered with a sob. “How did she die—”
Kim’s attention jerked to the kitchen doors as they flew open, followed by more coughing restaurant employees and that ominous black dust floating in the air. Tables and chairs crashed to the floor as customers scrambled to get away, some of them coughing, too. Heart hammering in her chest, Kim had a moment of clarity.
“They’re infected,” she whispered in slack-jawed disbelief. “All of them are infected and dying.” She didn’t know what they were infected with, or how it spread so fast, but she was sure of it. She was also sure that if she and Shelly didn’t get out of the restaurant immediately, they would be dead, too.
Kim got to her feet, pulling Shelly up with her and snatching her purse off the table as they headed for the door. Once outside, Kim took a deep breath of fresh air and staggered toward the center of the street.
“What just happened?” Shelly exclaimed, turning in a circle and slapping her hands on her legs. “I’ve been around you long enough to know that no contagion spreads that fast.”
“It doesn’t,” Kim said. She looked around as patrons burst from stores and restaurants, clutching their throats as they gasped for air. Black dust swirled up from the entrances, not dispersing like a cloud but clustering into long, snaking tendrils.
“We can’t breathe that stuff,” Shelly pointed out, eyes darting from one black tendril to another.
“We better back farther off,” Kim said. She backed toward Maine Avenue SW, pulling Shelly by the arm. Pearl Street was beginning to feel far too claustrophobic and deadly for her taste. “I’m parked nearby, and I’ve got filtration masks in the back. We need to get them on and get a rapid response team here, now!”
As Kim and Shelly ran, the black tendrils spread from restaurant walk-ins and fruit stands through building ventilation systems. The tendrils floated on air currents as they spread, curling like the tentacles of some expansive creature out into the streets. Those they touched gasped and choked, crying out for a single fresh breath of air. A faint breeze lifted the dark tendrils from their corpses, reaching for those left alive like the hand of death itself.
Introduction
The Microbiology Society estimates that fungal infections kill around one and a half million people every single year. With the spread and discovery of super-fungi – able to withstand anti-fungal treatments – those numbers will increase. One such super-fungi is Candida Auris, which was first discovered in South Korea in 1996, spread to Japan in 2009, and arrived in the United States in 2016. The CDC considers C. Auris to be of an urgent threat level, and still doesn't know how or why four separate strains of the fungus have appeared worldwide around the same time, though all four strains appearing in the United States are likely because of international travel and further spread through hospitals and other healthcare facilities.
C. Auris infections occur much like other fungal infections. Spores released by the fungus into the air enter through the respiratory system, or through skin-to-skin contact with people or objects that have the spores on them. C. Auris infections present with flu-like symptoms, including fever, chills, persistent coughing and sneezing.
The genuine danger occurs when the fungus enters the bloodstream and crosses the blood-brain barrier, at which point it can cause impaired memory, sepsis and death. Because C. Auris is highly resistant to anti-fungal and sterilization treatments, an infected patient in New York taken to Mount Sinai hospital, brought about the migration of the fungus into the walls and ceiling tiles. The man died after ninety days, after which specialized sterilization equipment was brought in, and workers had to remove and replace part of the walls, ceiling, and pieces of medical equipment to eradicate the highly contagious infection. Although C. Auris currently only affects those with auto-immune deficiencies, experts believe it's only a matter of time before fungal mutations cause it to affect the general population.
Imagine a future where C. Auris is a larger part of our daily lives than it already is, threatening not only to infect us, but rot our crops and destroy our stockpiles of foodstuffs. In this near-future world, chemical corporations keep one step ahead of Mother Nature, anticipating the next biological threat and eradicating it before it gets out of control. The cost of maintaining such an effort keeps these companies always on the lookout for cheaper and better solutions.
What if science stumbled, allowing nature to not only catch up, but sprint ahead?
What if a proposed "cheaper, ultimate solution" did the opposite of good?
What if this miracle cure caused a dangerous mutation in a widespread, already contagious fungus like C. Auris?
As scientists scrambled to get control over the outbreak, millions of people in “wet zones” would die, causing the degradation of the world’s infrastructure and the population to be nearly wiped out. The survivors would flee to hot, dry areas, joining forces or turning against each other as they fought over the precious resources that remained. Such a super-fungus outbreak would bring the world to its knees, leaving only the strongest and most prepared able to survive.
Chapter 1
Kim Shields, Washington, D.C.
Kim led Shelly to her car three blocks away as distant and near screams played like the introduction of a nightmare symphonic piece. She rushed to the driver’s side door of her Toyota SUV and reversed direction, remembering that her emergency equipment was in the vehicle's trunk.
She clicked the unlock button on her key fob and heard all the door locks snap open. She lifted the hatchback and faced a packed truck. There were three suitcases and a laundry basket filled with odds and ends stacked on top. Digging between two suitcases, she stretched her arms and grabbed her box of emergency supplies, but she couldn’t pull it out.
“Hurry, Kim,” Shelly said. The woman’s head swiveled back and forth, her eyes glancing up at the sky. “That weird dust is in the air. It’s all over the place.”
Kim looked up to see tendrils of dust from the restaurant riding on the breeze, clinging together like the fingers of a hand, the tips sniffing and prodding the air for a place to invade. Where they touched pedestrians or motorists, the world turned to chaos. Cars crashed nearby, adding to the hellish symphony of screams, and Kim’s stomach roiled with dread.
Spore Series (Book 1): Spore Page 1
