Rise of the Plague (Book 1): Endemic

by Jeannie Rae

  Dave had been the sergeant of his squadron, with eight men under his command, they were moving in on hostiles after being separated from their convoy by an improvised explosive device and local rebels were taking to the streets. The nearest forward operating base was five klicks north, and Dave needed to get his men there. His unit was comprised of Rock, Mange, Tank, Billy, Diesel, Big J, Randy, and Rhino.

  Randy had been proving to be quite a handful in their journey so far. Dave could definitely see the leadership skills in the corporal, there had been no doubt this guy was meant to be a leader, but he wasn’t one yet. Dave kept Randy in check, but now and then, Randy would test Dave’s authority to its limits.

  As they moved through the city of Kirkuk, civil unrest had spread throughout the town. Taking refuge in a two-story, concrete apartment building, the men were moving through the abandoned building, clearing it and trying to find a place to take cover from the attacking insurgents. Once all twelve apartments were cleared, the men met Dave back at the first, ground-floor apartment to review the evacuation plans.

  Rhino pulled out the map and began discussing alternate routes for the squad to take to make it to the FOB. Dave went with Rhino’s best escape recommendation, and the men were poised to move, when Dave noticed that Randy wasn’t in position. He ordered his men to stay put while he searched for Randy. Moving down the hall, he checked several apartments with no luck finding his soldier. Suspicion snuck into Dave’s mind with regard to Randy and what he may have been up to.

  He moved up to the next floor and began checking rooms, finding Randy in the fourth apartment. Randy stood over a woman—who writhed on the floor. Her wrists were bound with kitchen twine. Her brown dress had been ripped open, and tears streaked down her delicate face as Randy pointed his M-16 rifle in her face.

  Dave ordered Randy to stand down and to leave the woman. While Dave could not be sure what happened prior to his arrival, he had a stomach-churning feeling about what may have occurred in that apartment.

  Randy, with a wildly defiant look in his eyes, shot the woman in the chest. Only then did he drop his weapon, as a cocky smile stretched across his face.

  Leaving Dave no other option than to subdue Randy, he bound Randy’s hands and forced him downstairs. Randy laughed the entire way down, like he’d lost his mind. He cackled after murdering a defenseless woman, who posed zero threat. Dave eventually led his squadron to the base with Randy as their prisoner. Once they got to the safe zone, MP’s remanded Randy to their custody.

  To this day, Dave had no clue as to why formal court-martial proceedings weren't charged against Randy. He’d hoped to never see Randy again.

  Dave waited for a few moments in the Angora conference room for Roxy to turn around, once she did, he grabbed her shoulder.

  “You have to tell me what happened in there with Randy. Listen, I don’t want to be a jerk about this, but Randy has a shady past. I know all too well what he’s capable of doing. What did he do to you?” He demanded.

  Roxy could feel resentment filling her core. Glaring at him, she reassured herself that he was only being protective. She could see that Dave wouldn’t let this go. While she didn’t know him very well, his frustration at the situation became very clear.

  He knows something about the kind of person Randy is, and is showing concern for my safety. Rightfully so, if I didn’t have my strength, the things in that room could have ended very differently.

  Calming herself, she slipped out of his grip and steadily explained to Dave what had happened in the room, with Mattie and Lynn listening on. Strategically, she left out the part about her possibly being able to transmit the infection. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate herself from her newfound friends over an unsubstantiated statement made by Randy.

  “He’s a dangerous man, Roxy, capable of violence and cruelty that you would never want to know about. He has no concept of remorse—it’s like he has no conscious. I have seen him do unspeakable things and not even think twice about it. He really only has two things on his mind. Getting the job done—by whatever means necessary, and getting what he wants. Everything else is irrelevant,” Dave wiped his brow and turned away from her with a sigh.

  Dave seemed visibly unsettled and perhaps a little worried. It wasn’t a stretch to believe that Randy could evoke such strong feelings of wrath. He seemed like the type to have that effect, on probably everyone. She thought that Dave might be tormented by distant memories involving Randy. She knew that the subject needed to be changed, but had nothing. Tucking her brown locks behind her ears, she struggled to quiet her mind of the events of the past few minutes and focus on her family’s arrival.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Joe’s heart pounded so hard that he could hear it throbbing in his ears. He looked up in dismay, to see Shotgun standing inside the doorway of the convenience store. Shotgun laughed out loud, looking at the scattered of sunglasses and chewing gum all over the counter and floor.

  “Good to see that you can handle yourself with that thing,” Shotgun smiled.

  “You can’t just sneak up on me like that,” Joe sighed with relief.

  “I walked in through the front door, that’s hardly sneaking. The kid told me, you were looking for a restroom and Hank was sure he’d seen a shadow in the window earlier. I figured I’d give you a little backup.”

  “No sign of shadows yet, but there is a restroom around back. It’s locked. I came in here, to see if there was a key. I’m not finding one,” Joe shook his head, as he tried to lower his thumping heart rate.

  “You try in there?” Shotgun motioned to the manager’s door.

  “I was headed in there when you came in,” Joe said.

  “Let me go in first and clear it for you. Not that I don’t trust you, butterfingers, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Shotgun smiled, coming around the counter.

  “Funny. You are a real comedian. You’ll have to tell me when your next show is so I can catch the matinee,” Joe smiled.

  “Ha, ha, well I must not be that good if you won’t even pay full price. Matinee…” Shotgun said, grabbing the door knob.

  He pressed the door open, gun raised, and entered the office. Joe caught the door with his foot as it sprang back to close. Shotgun checked the room as a police officer would, tactically gliding around the room, searching around towering boxes, behind the door and finally around the desk. Lowering his weapon, he spied at two hooks on the wall. The second hook held a key with a chain dangling off of it. He lifted the key that was bolted to a chain that attached to a toilet seat with the word toilet scribbled on it in black ink.

  “This what you’re looking for? My guess is that nobody ever asks to use the restroom twice, here,” Shotgun held it out to Joe.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

  Joe took the key and couldn’t wait to get away from this place. It felt like they’d spent far too long here. Joe had already missed his call with Roxy and now, they had to take another route that would take even more time to make it to her.

  Leaving the store, Joe nodded to Kate to come over to him. She launched out of the truck and jogged over to him.

  “Thanks Dad, I’ve really gotta go. I was about to go squat behind those bushes. No joke,” she smiled.

  “Well let’s get you in there, so we can get out of here,” Joe said, unlocking the women’s door.

  Joe pulled the key out, twisting the knob. He tugged on the door, but it seemed stuck. Changing his stance, he heaved the door open. The metal door squealed as it scraped against the metal frame. He reached in a flicked on the switch, to the darkened, one toilet restroom. The overhead, florescent light flickered to life as a grotesque stench waft out. It smelled as if a rotting animal carcass were trapped within the filthy restroom. His eyes immediately were drawn to the sink area. He flinched at the sight of a woman, crouched, with her back to him. He couldn’t be sure if she was hiding, or if she had the infection. Without taking his eyes off the woman, he waived K
ate back.

  The woman looked up and away from the door at the flickering light above, then turned her head away from the light source. Joe slowly reached for the gun hanging over his shoulder. He grasped the handle, clicking the safety off. That click was all it took. The woman whipped her head around looking at Joe. Her black eyes, peeled open, staring at him as though her gaze could devour his soul. She had to be in her early twenties and without a doubt, had the infection. He took aim at her, but hesitated. She hadn’t stirred and wasn’t attacking. It felt too strange, to shoot her, while she seemed so nonthreatening, cowering under the sink.

  As he slowly took a step backward, intending to lock her back in the restroom, she lunged at him. He fired the gun, but her speed couldn’t be matched. Just as the bullets shattered the greasy, ceramic tiles in the wall behind the sink, she wedged her shoulder into his gut. Joe fell backward onto the gravel outside the restroom, the gun sliding out of his hands, gliding to a stop a few inches from his reach. The woman tumbling beside him—quickly raised her head and dove toward his face, teeth snarling. Joe caught her at the forehead and neck. Her decaying teeth and black gums were mere inches from his face, as drool began to seep out from the side of her mouth, drizzling on his cheek. Her sticky breath, matched the stench that had been contained within the restroom, and the high-pitched screech emitting from her open mouth sounded like that of a tortured feline hissing and squealing all at once. Decomposing hands groped Joe’s scalp and neck, until she found her grip and pulled his head closer to hers.

  Suddenly, her body lifted in the air as if she were a stuffed toy being plucked by the arm in an arcade claw machine. Perplexed, Joe saw Shotgun’s leg retract. He had kicked her off of him. As she landed on the ground, Shotgun aimed his weapon at her. Wasting little time, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet penetrated her cheek, left of her nose. Her body toppled backward on the rocks behind the convenience store.

  Joe allowed Shotgun to help him to his feet, then wiped the goo from his face and dusted off the chalky grey dust that clung to his clothes.

  “I’m okay. She was a quick one,” Joe said, giving a worried smile to the three before him.

  “A runner,” Shotgun said. “One of my team members named them. From what we’ve seen there are two types of infected, but he gave them three names. There are the quick ones—called runners, the slow ones that wander around—are named roamers and then there are the wailers. A wailer can be a runner or a roamer as far as speed, but they’re the ones that wail for help to call the others.”

  “The runners, roamers and wailers? You guys named them?” Joe shook his head. “You’re twisted.”

  “Alright Kate, take care of what you need to. We’ve got to move out of here. Those shots are like the dinner bell to the runners saying, chow’s over here,” Hank said, patting her on the shoulder and smirking at Shotgun.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Mara sat across from James in her office. A small, glass-top table with oak trim, matching her desk and conference room table, filled the space between them. James stirred a cup of coffee, the steam drifting up past his overly tanned face. Mara waited to hear what James had to say. He knows something. Something groundbreaking.

  In her mind, she had trouble piecing it all together. The number of coincidences relating to the infection appalled her, but there didn't seem to be a common thread linking any of them up. She sat silently and impatiently, waiting for him to explain.

  James tapped his wooden stirrer stick on the side on the cup and set it down on a folded paper napkin. He pulled the cup to his lips, taking a slow, savory sip of the beverage. Looking into Mara's eyes as he finished his sip, he replaced the cup on the table.

  “You have taken it upon yourself to speak to Randy. I suppose he has told you everything,” James said regally.

  “Not everything, but a great deal. Why did you send him away? What do you know?” She asked desperately.

  “Mara, I do admire your inquisitiveness. I really do, but I don't think that it is entirely necessary for you to know all the grisly details at this point. If you have questions, I will be happy to answer them. But it is far more important that you work on the serum,” he offered.

  “I do want to know all the details. How did Randy get out of wherever the military held him? Where did they have him anyway?” She questioned.

  “He was in a secure, underground military facility. They released him on his own recognizance when the project went south.”

  “What project?” Mara asked.

  “Project Phoenix, it had been called. The doctors had confidential clearance to do human testing of an experimental, new drug. They called it The Phoenix Compound, a performance enhancer that had evolved from a developing seal flu vaccination. They had apparently run dozens of rounds of test trials first, and the results were very promising, at least according to the chief laboratory scientist. What hadn’t been known, is that he only reported results that supported the effectiveness of the compound. He falsified records, making the drug appear to be more successful than it really was.”

  “No,” she gasped breathlessly.

  “It gets far worse than that Mara. After the compound had been administered, it transformed the soldiers that were treated. Nearly two hundred subjects were included in the study. Of them, seventy-four were given the compound injection, and the remaining were given a placebo injection. There were three sections in the base that were used for human testing. Each section housed approximately sixty-five patients separated into five rooms to be monitored. With the exception of Randy, the other seventy-three soldiers that were given the drug, turned into the monsters that are now, outside our walls. The infected patients broke free of their restraints and infected nearly all of the scientists and placebo patients. Randy scarcely escaped with his life,” James sighed, looking down at his coffee.

  “How do you know about all of this?” Mara asked, wrapping her slender fingers over her mouth.

  “I was a consultant on the damage control for the entire thing. As you know, I have several biogenetics government contracts, and the higher-ups wanted an independent consultant that they knew they could trust. We destroyed nearly every piece of evidence linking to Project Phoenix. Forgive me if I don’t delve too deep into the details, but I convinced the powers that be, that Randy wasn’t a subject, but one that had received the placebo. The entire compound was incinerated. I asked Randy to come on board with me here at Angora, as head of security, while he remained under the care of an unconventional scientist. He's been a tremendous asset to the company since his arrival and now that he has worked out all of the quirks associated with his condition, he no longer needs to be under the care of anyone.”

  “Quirks, what do you mean by quirks associated with his condition?” She asked guardedly.

  “That will need to be for a later discussion. We are getting off topic,” he deflected.

  “It's just a huge coincidence that this very same drug was accidentally given to patients here. A place where you and Randy are both employed and both tied to Project Phoenix. Don't you think? And what about Colonel Channing—he recruited Randy for the experiment—now he’s leading the Marines on a quarantine of the city?” Mara tried connecting the dots.

  “One of the data analysts that survived the Project Phoenix incident has moved on to become a member of the CDC. When the hospital contacted the CDC about the Port Steward incident, Channing, myself and what few of us that were involved were contacted, in secret, of course. I imagine, since Channing is all too familiar to how this compound works, he volunteered to clean it up. As far as a coincidence, I don't think it is a coincidence at all. I believe this has been deliberately done, by someone involved with Project Phoenix, or perhaps, by someone trying to sully my good name for my part in covering it up. Who sent you the serum, Mara?” He asked with an impeaching expression.

  Mara searched James' aged face frantically, trying to see where he could be going with this question.

  “A coll
eague, from college… He said that he has been working on this project for a while now, and was under a timeline to get it reformulated. He asked me to work on it confidentially,” she rolled her eyes and paused for a moment. “He hadn’t given me any information on it until the day it had arrived, he thought a fresh set of eyes—”

  “This colleague, wouldn’t happen to be Dr. Edward Staton, of the Strickland Institute?” He interrupted.

  Mara's eyes widened to saucers, as her heart sank like a boat anchor. She felt like all the oxygen had been squeezed out of her lungs in that moment. No way. Edward wouldn't have done this on purpose. He couldn't have done this on purpose. How would he know that the injections would be used on patients here? She opened her mouth to speak, and then sighed. Her eyes scanned the glass table top, trying to figure this puzzle out.

  “Edward's father was the scientist that created The Phoenix Compound. That would explain how he would have data relating to it and perhaps why he began researching the drug. Maybe he set out to finish his father's work or maybe, he is as crazed as his late-father,” James said coldly.

  “He’s not like that, James. I have known him for years, and he has no maliciousness in him at all,” she said defensively.

  “That may have been the case, before. His father died in the incident two years ago due to…complications of the compound he created, after holding no regard for human life and falsifying documents to suit his own selfish delusions. Perhaps Edward set out to try to prove his father’s innocence. Who knows? It really doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  “I...I don't know,” she shook her head.

  Disorientation clouded Mara’s mind as she attempted to make sense of the words she’d heard. She felt as if the chair she sat upon had just been pulled out from under her.

  “That cannot be true. Edward could never do something like that and I take offense that you would believe that to be true. He is a good man. Does this analyst at the CDC have their people working on a cure?” Mara asked.