by Frank Bates
Rise of the Prepper
A Story of the Coming Collapse
a non-stop action prepare fiction story by “Above Average Joe” Frank Bates
© This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. The book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, historical events, is purely coincidental. This ebook may not be sold or gifted to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No part of this book may be re-printed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written consent of the author. Copyright © 2016 Above Average Joe Frank Bates. All rights reserved.
About The Author:
Frank Bates is a master of many trades; from survivalist fisherman and outdoors enthusiast to expert published wordsmith. His real-world experiences working with NASA and consulting with Cosmonauts, colors his fictional work, adding a dynamic sense of realism to every scene. The result: fame! Frank Bates has been covered in various forums including Time Magazine, Wall Street Journal and TechCrunch.
I always like to be emailed feedback, comments, and remarks. I love your questions. If you don’t understand something in the story, please email me and I will clarify anything you want to know in the novel. You can reach me at [email protected]
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One: Parasites
[December 12, 2016 – 3 Months before the Outbreak]
At first glance, Dr. Timothy Frankel, who was sitting alone near the back of the plane looking out the window, seemed inconspicuous. A man in his 50’s, with his white suit and hat, he looked like a proper gentleman. His easy grace bespoke of a good nature. His clear eyes belied the genius within. No one would certainly suspect that this man planned to bring about the end of the world.
Dr. Timothy Frankel was renowned all over the world as one of the greatest pioneers of Microbiology, most especially in the field of Virology. He was just coming home from a conference on Molecular Virology held in Los Angeles. He would prefer not going to these annual gatherings since they usually occurred in the fall but he had no choice. It was, after all, a gathering of like-minded experts and he couldn’t pass up the chance to expand his knowledge.
The doctor looked out the window and his eyes sparkled as he spotted a lake surrounded by some mountains. He was known to be a great fan of the outdoors. He was a great lover of nature and enjoyed her beauty tremendously.
As a boy, Dr. Frankel used to go fishing with his father after church on Sundays and taking care of the animals at their family’s farm. He closed his eyes as he remembered how he felt breathing in the cool fresh air of the mountains coupled with the smell of the forest. That was one of the only memories he had left of his childhood that never failed to bring a smile to his face.
Life was good until… The doctor’s eyes hardened as the scenery below shifted to a patchwork of buildings, factories billowing black smoke, and pieces of land that had been stripped bare of life.
The browns and grays of the railways and roads that spread through the land looked like the pseudopods of an amoeba. No, on second thought, they looked more like scars—disfiguring and defiling what was once beautiful and pristine.
Dr. Frankel felt the familiar surge of rage within his chest at the memories that thought evoked. They didn’t deserve what happened back then. Not his father, his mother nor his sisters. Not even the animals and the forest. No one deserved it and yet it happened anyway. He came to a conclusion as he watched everything around him burn to ashes that day including his family: as long as humans, with their relentless pursuit of monetary satisfaction and inherent violence roamed this earth—infesting it like cockroaches, sucking out its life like parasites—there will be no hope for a better future.
A stewardess approached with a trolley cart full of drinks and snacks. “Good afternoon, sir. Would you like something to drink?” She asked.
The doctor showed no sign of hearing her, so consumed with his thoughts. He continued staring out the window, watching the earth below as they passed. “…just like parasites.” He murmured.
“Sir?”
He finally turned to the stewardess with a benign smile. “Don’t you agree?”
The stewardess tilted her head a bit to the side, puzzled. “With what, sir?”
“Don’t you think our planet is magnificent?”
If the stewardess thought it was strange to ask such a question out of the blue, she didn’t show it. She smiled and said, “It truly is. It’s such a shame, though.”
Dr. Frankel raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”
“Mother earth is truly beautiful but there are wars everywhere and corporations who just care about making a profit without considering the environment.”
The doctor’s smile grew bigger in appreciation. “Such insightful sentiments, my dear. You are quite right.” Noticing the trolley, he nodded towards it and said, “I’ll just have some coffee please.”
“Is that all you will be having?” The stewardess asked. At the older man’s nod, she smiled. “Very well, sir. I’ll get your coffee.”
The doctor watched the retreating back of the stewardess and remarked on what an intelligent young woman she was. If only everyone had the same mindset as her, there would be no need for what he had planned. Oh, well. It's too late now, he shrugged. He looked around the quiet plane, observing his fellow passengers. Some were sleeping, earphones jammed in their ears while others were chatting with their companions excitedly in hushed voices.
Amused at their blissful ignorance, he playfully imagined reaching out to all the people on board and mentally announcing his plans to them. He wondered how their faces would look like. He guessed that majority would be terrified. They would cower in their seats and worry for their own safety. Such was the selfishness of man. In times of great terror, they automatically prayed for their own survival and not of their families, much less other human beings. Another reason why humans were such a disgusting pest. But I digress, he thought.
There will be others, who, upon learning what is to come their way, would turn to aggressive behavior. They would point their fingers at him and call him names. They would threaten him and say if he didn't stop what he had planned, they will kill him. Meanwhile, there would be those who would just stay quiet. Seemingly at peace with their fate. These were the precious few who would understand why.
He almost felt some pity for them. Dr. Frankel wasn’t religious, not by any stretch of the word, but if God did exist, the doctor hoped that He would take care of those precious few. As a lover of nature and as a man of science, he understood more than anyone how resilient nature was. It would always find a way to adapt and survive and so would humanity too. He just hoped that the ones who do survive will be like that intelligent young stewardess.
A baby's cry from somewhere in the plane broke the silence, bringing him out of his reverie. The baby's mother sang the child a lullaby to calm her.
Hm, yes. If humans did survive, let the future generations learn the mistakes of their forebears. Let them take heed of their lessons and take advantage of
the fresh start he had gifted them with. Surely, the children of tomorrow will sing him praises. They will say that he was truly a man among men for committing such a noble deed. They will say that it was his wisdom and vigilance that ultimately saved the world.
He looked at the abomination below with cool detachment. “Yes, the planet is quite precious indeed but she’s very sick. If there’s any hope at all of curing her, then the parasites must go away.” He murmured. In his hand was a copy of an invitation for the upcoming Global Influenza Research and Development Symposium in March. He had no plans of going, of course. He could not risk himself like that. Still, it was very ironic. He supposed that it was how fate worked. To be given such a great opportunity, truly, it must be destiny. He didn’t believe in God but maybe a higher entity had deigned his plan as a viable solution to the epidemic wrought on by humans on the planet. A wistful smile appeared on his lips. The ones who search for the cures will be the ones to spread the disease. It was ironic, but oh, the future never looked so bright.
Chapter Two: Seth
[March 14, 2016 – Two Weeks before the Outbreak]
The roaring of the engines slowly quieted down as Deputy U.S. Marshal Seth Andrew’s truck pulled in front of the cabin. He jumped out from the driver’s side and grunted as his feet hit the ground. He slammed the door shut on his black Ford F150 and walked with heavy steps to the cabin.
He was exhausted. His biceps hurt as they always did after a long day at work. He’d been a firearms instructor at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center in Atlanta for many years now but his body still hurt after working with guns all day. You’d think he’d be numbed to it by now but he guessed shooting high power firearms weighing 10 pounds almost non-stop would still take its toll on his body no matter how long he’d done it.
Talking about being numb, he was certain he could no longer feel his legs. Driving for hours on rough roads every day was harsh on his aging legs. Try as he might deny the obvious, he was getting on in years. He’s definitely not like those young bucks he taught at the training center anymore.
He put his bag down next to the couch in the living room. He didn’t bother taking off his jacket. It was still cold after all. “Damn kids.” He grunted as he rotated his arm. The kids that he taught today weren’t particularly the brightest bunch. They kept messing up and he had to keep demonstrating over and over again.
He went over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He opened the fridge and saw that there were still a few bottles of beer left. Changing his mind, he grabbed one and shut the fridge close. He deserved a reward for all the work he did that day.
He went out to the porch and sat in his old but comfortable rocking chair. Taking a sip of his beer, he laid back and relaxed as he gently rocked the chair back and forth.
Maybe it was time for him to have a career change or move to a closer house. Doing either one would probably make things a little easier for his body. He had considered it a couple of times before but he’d never pulled through with it. What could he do? He was as great at shooting as Einstein was in physics. He looked at the mountains in the distance and breathed in the fresh air. He could go and he probably should, but he couldn’t leave the cabin. It was his little slice of heaven in this world. Every time he returned home there, he felt like everything was all right again in the world. The cabin made up with the hard sturdy wood his father had cut down from the surrounding forest to build it was not only a house but a home full of memories. With his father serving 15 years in prison for manslaughter, his mother and sister living on an Amish farm in rural New York, the cabin was all he had left. He just had to deal with his circumstances as they were. It was all worth it anyway.
He was enjoying the peace and quiet when the distant sound of a gunshot broke the silence. The gun fired off two more times. Seth didn’t even bother getting out of his chair to check out what it was about. He was in the mountains after all and the gunshots were pretty far away. He figured that whoever shot those fires must probably be some hunters out to hunt some poor animal. Damn raccoon chasers. Can’t a man have some peace?
He shook his head. Men liked to hunt prey. They’re natural hunters after all. Humans used to hunt their food hundreds of years ago out of necessity although nowadays people just liked to hunt for fun or for profit. Nothing bad with that, he supposed. Humans were at the top of the food chain and he can do what he wants with the environment as he desired. But there’s this little thing called karma and Seth believed in it. What’s up must come down, or so the saying went. He couldn’t really remember.
A thought occurred to him. What if one day, Mother Nature decided she had enough of man’s bullshit? What would happen to them? He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. This is what you get for staying alone in the mountains, old man. You’re getting too gloomy.
Seth decided he’d had enough contemplating for the day and went inside the cabin as another round of gunshots fired off in the distance. The raccoon chasers were too damn noisy that he couldn’t continue relaxing on the porch anyway and his favorite show was gonna be on in a few minutes. It was definitely time to head back inside.
Chapter Three: The Beginning of the End
[April 8, 2016 – Seven Days after the Outbreak]
President Hillary White massaged her throbbing temples. She was having a terrible headache, what with that long meeting she just had with her Chief of Staff. To say that things were in dire straits was a huge understatement.
It was positively apocalyptic.
*****
Her Chief of Staff, Sheila, entered the President's office looking haggard. Her hair was disheveled and there were huge dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face looked pale.
"Sheila, what's wrong?" Hillary asked, rising from her seat.
Sheila waved away her worry and dropped some files onto Hillary's desk. "There's something really bad going on."
Hillary looked at the piles of folders and back at Sheila. "I can see that."
"Something really horrible is going on, Madame President. Something that could potentially change the future of this entire country."
Hillary perceived that Sheila was in no mood for a joke. She realized that whatever it was that got her Chief of Staff shaken up like that had to be very serious.
Hillary straightened her back and in a formal manner, opened the files before her.
She frowned as she read the reports. "What is all this?"
Sheila adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath. "Seven days ago, there was a leak of a potent virus at the Army's Biological Warfare Lab in Fort Detrick. One of the researchers inhaled a small amount of this virus and promptly got infected. The researcher failed to report his infection immediately and in fact took to great lengths just to hide it." Sheila paused and looked as realization dawned on Hillary's face.
"The virus has already spread outside of the lab."
"And this happened seven days ago?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Shit." Hillary got up from her seat and paced back and forth on the carpeted floor of her office. "Where's that researcher now? How is he?"
Sheila fidgeted with her notepad. "Well, he's currently under quarantine at Roberts Hopkins in Baltimore but he's... He's expected to die within a few hours."
Hillary turned to her. "What!? Are you telling me he's dying right now and it's just been a week since he contracted this virus? This virus must be very powerful. I know we built that lab to conduct researches and make biological weapons but what in God’s name were they making there?” Hillary threw her hands up in the air. “What do we know of it?"
Sheila was an optimistic person by nature. She did not want to be the bearer of bad news. She desperately wanted to be anywhere else but in the office at that moment. In fact, she was starting to feel faint again as she repeated what she learned about this virus. There was no doubt in her mind that America was in deep, deep trouble. "It's a virus called Superpox-99. As the name suggests, infec
ted people will show the same symptoms as normal smallpox—high fevers, vomiting, and abdominal pain. The biggest problem with this virus is that it works fast and if not treated within the first two days of contraction, about 99% of those infected will die within two weeks. The virus is highly contagious and it is also airborne."
Hillary buried her face in her palms as she felt the beginnings of a massive headache. Oh, this just keeps getting better.
"Okay. Relax." Hillary murmured to herself as she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. She looked at Sheila and gave the following order. "Notify the National Guard as well as the entire armed forces to seal off Fort Detrick and contain that virus."
Sheila nodded. "We only have preventative medicine to treat early symptoms. The Generals are requesting for all our available stocks."
"All right, give it to them. Make sure everyone gets their share including civilians."
Sheila nodded and scribbled the order down on her notepad.
Hillary went back to her desk and took a seat. "Alert everyone else the CDC, FEA, Homeland Security—everyone—about the outbreak. Speaking of which, is the CDC working on a cure right now?"
"Yes. They are working 'round the clock but they still don't have a definitive cure. They say that it could take weeks or months at most."
"We don't have that kind of time. Going by how fast this virus works, half of the country's population would be wiped out by the time a cure is found!" Hillary nearly screamed.
Sheila flinched. "I'm sorry."
Composing herself, Hillary shook her head. "No, I'm sorry for raising my voice."
"Has the virus infected civilians yet?"
"None that we know of so far but we're diligently looking out for any word of an infection among the general public."
Hillary nodded thoughtfully. "Good, good. When this gets out to the public and they learn how this virus got made, we can't protest our innocence, not when the government publicly signed the Biological and Toxin Weapons Conventions back in '72. We hoped that signing that convention would strengthen America's modern warfare—not kill our citizens!"
