Last Man Standing (Book 1): Zombie Armageddon

by Max Lockwood

  3

  Dr. Bretton Vincent sat tensely in his leather armchair in his home office. Today, like every other day for the past few weeks, he sat with a cup of coffee—or scotch, depending on his mood—and watched the news.

  He watched to get a good sense about what was going on in the world without actually going out there to see it himself. Plus, he was occasionally mentioned, and he liked that celebrity status. Furthermore, he needed to ensure the stories that involved him suited his best interests. He needed the truth to be heard. Elaina Morgan, his associate, had created a dangerous virus strain which was causing complete pandemonium in Seattle. In no time, it would spread across the world.

  When he really thought about it, he couldn’t stand Elaina. Thirteen years her senior, he was on equal footing with her when it came to their careers. He worked his ass off and earned his doctorate while trying to raise a daughter with his ex-wife. He was just starting out in his dream job, beginning to get noticed, when this girl strolled into his lab.

  She was fresh off her dissertation and thought she ruled the field. What she had accomplished was impressive, but when Bretton considered the facts, it made sense why she had done so much in such a short amount of time.

  Throughout his academic years, he lived a very well-rounded life. He was active in extracurricular activities in his undergraduate years. Then, he met his wife, married her, had a child, and divorced her within ten years. All of this happened while studying for his doctorate.

  Elaina, on the other hand, had few life experiences. From what he gathered, she had all the personality of an empty Petri dish. From childhood, she did nothing but study. She had no friends, no family, and no romantic partners. When you replace everything that makes life interesting with academia, you’re bound to impress people. But at what cost? If Bretton didn’t despise her so much, he might have felt sorry for Elaina.

  But it was hard to feel pity for someone who annoyed him day in and day out. Although he felt sick and could hardly sleep about what had happened in his lab, it made him feel a little better to know that she was getting all the heat for it. For once, it paid to be a supporting character in the cast. His time was coming, though. He had waited in the shadows long enough. Soon, he would be a star.

  Bretton Vincent knew something that very few people knew to be true—while he didn’t create the Morgan Strain, he was solely responsible for releasing it into the outside world.

  Perfect little Elaina Morgan had created the strain in an attempt to introduce a virus that was capable of attacking cancer cells without causing harm to the patient. In early tests in mice and rats, it appeared that her plan was working exactly how she wanted it to.

  This was too much for Bretton. It was already too much for him to bear that some young girl took over his lab, but for her to discover something that could potentially cure cancer would kill him. If she succeeded, he would forever be a lowly assistant for some savant freak.

  In early tests, the virus killed cancer in rodents, but not without leaving them with horrible boils. These lesions eventually went away, but it turned them into disgusting little critters. He figured if he could infect a few healthy people, they would believe that what she was doing was harmful and shut down her strain.

  In the meantime, it was Bretton’s plan to work on a way to create a virus with all of the same benefits while removing all side effects. Once he figured out how to do that, the Vincent Virus would probably win a Nobel Peace Prize. He would be more rich and famous than he ever thought a scientist could be.

  But, he got too greedy after launching his plan. He started working on his new strain immediately. He managed to fix whatever was causing the sores, but somewhere along the line, he went terribly wrong. Focused on the wrong aspects of the virus, he didn’t account for any other side effects. He ran a few quick trials on rodents, realized that they weren’t showing outward signs of illness, and decided that he was finished. His plan was moving a lot faster than he thought it could.

  With two tiny vials of the virus, he decided to run his own human trials. Not fully confident in his work, he found two interns new to the lab and infected their lunches in the breakroom fridge. As far as he knew, they were both perfectly healthy, so the virus shouldn’t have shown any side effects.

  Unfortunately, he was dead wrong. The interns showed no visible signs of illness in the first two days, so Bretton thought he was home free. He even started writing his research proposal after making casual small talk with them to ensure they were okay.

  Then the symptoms developed.

  Coincidentally, both interns called in sick on the third day. Lab management didn’t think anything of it. College kids spread diseases like kindergarteners.

  But after the second day of their absence from the lab, Dr. Vincent made a personal call to them. Trying not to give away the nature of his call, he asked the students how they were feeling. They both reported high fevers, chills, stomach cramps, and strangely enough, mood swings. He wished them well, told them to get rest, and promised to check up on them later. He assured them that they’d just caught the influenza virus that was going around and if things got worse, he’d personally bring them a week’s dose of antiviral medication.

  Being inexperienced with viruses, they didn’t realize that antiviral medication only worked when taken at the first sign of symptoms. But, since an expert was telling them that he would take care of them, they listened.

  Instead, Bretton used them as his own human guinea pigs. He charted their symptoms for about a week before giving them a medication to help with their symptoms.

  Within two weeks, the interns were feeling much better and had returned to work. But, as most busy college students can attest, just because they are allowed to stay home from their internship, it doesn’t mean that they stayed at home. The University of Washington’s student health records showed that shortly after the interns became ill, one hundred and thirty-five students were treated for flu-like symptoms.

  Bretton was in deep trouble, and he knew it. If anyone realized that he was the one behind the virus, he would surely get fired and wouldn’t be able to work in another lab ever again. He either needed the virus to stop spreading, or he needed someone to pin it on.

  In the end, only one option would work. As the epidemic took over the city, he leaked to the newspapers that Elaina Morgan’s experiment had gone terribly wrong and was causing people to become very sick. With no better information to go on, they took his story and ran with it. Eventually, Elaina had to go into hiding because the press and the general public were after her.

  Bretton, on the other hand, was in pretty good shape. With Elaina gone, he could appear to be the hero in the department. Then, he would have all of his assistants at his disposal, helping him work on a cure or a vaccine. When it was ready, everyone would recover and the disease could be eradicated.

  “Dad?” Bretton’s eighteen-year-old daughter, Natalia, asked him as she peeked her head into the study. “Are you busy?”

  He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “Nope. What’s up?”

  “One of my friend’s cars was broken into last night. It was weird, because nothing was stolen from it. All of the windows were smashed and the paint is all scratched up.”

  “That sucks,” Bretton said. “Did your friend call the police?”

  “Yeah, but they told her that they have so many of those reports that they probably can’t send an officer over until next week. Can you believe that? What’s going on out there? I used to think Seattle was safe.”

  Bretton pursed his lips. Even though he only saw his daughter a few times a week, he still felt like he did a pretty good job raising her. She would be attending the University of Washington in the fall and had already decided that she was going to pursue a future in nursing.

  She still spent most of her time with her mother, who was always a little more nurturing. Bretton tried, but he was never quite sure how to interact with a teenage girl. He found that she
liked his money, so he often replaced human interaction with material gifts.

  “I know things are a little crazy right now, but I’m sure everything will settle down soon. This is a good city with good people. There’s always the riffraff that hang in the shadows, but the police will put them back where they belong. Don’t worry about that.”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ve seen the news. It’s not just poor people out there looting stores. I’ve seen footage of women and men in business suits throwing bricks through storefronts. They say it has to do with the virus that’s going around. How could a virus cause people to act like that?”

  He shook his head. “Whatever Elaina Morgan created was an act against nature. She created a madness in otherwise healthy people. But you don’t have to worry about catching it. All you have to do is avoid crowded places and wash your hands well after being with other people. No spending time with boys, do you understand?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve hardly left the house in the past week. I don’t think that’s going to be a concern.”

  He smiled and turned back to the television. There was a new story about riots. The mayor was now urging all residents to stay at home and only go to work if absolutely necessary. He stressed that evacuation would not be necessary.

  The color drained from Bretton’s face.

  If the government was trying to downplay the scope of the virus and discouraging people from leaving the city, then he knew that it must be bad. He knew that the city would soon become a quarantine chamber and the virus would spread and kill everyone off before they had a chance to run.

  “Pack a bag, Natalia,” he said flatly, turning off the television. “We’re going to your grandmother’s house for a little while.”

  “But the news just said that everyone should just stay in the city.”

  “I know more about this than you do,” Bretton argued. “Pack your suitcase. We’re leaving in an hour.”

  “How long are we staying?” she asked.

  “Just for a few days,” he lied, not sure how long it would take for everything to blow over. He wasn’t even sure if they’d ever make it back to Seattle. He could try to work on a cure from any lab in the world. All he needed were good colleagues who could put in a lot of long hours.

  After Natalia stomped out of the study, he retreated to his own bedroom and hastily stuffed clothing into his suitcase. He packed dress clothes in case he had an opportunity to work right away. He even packed his favorite lab coat that he’d snagged and sterilized before the lab was shut down.

  He would miss the home that he had built in Seattle, no doubt, but being away from the danger within the city would be a big relief. Plus, if he stayed out of the limelight for the moment, he would not come into questioning about what happened at the lab.

  About thirty minutes later, Natalia dropped her suitcase at the door with a dramatic thud.

  “You have everything you need?” Bretton asked.

  “Most of my things are at Mom’s house, but she picked a very convenient time to be on vacation.”

  “Well, whatever you need, we can buy when we get to Grandma’s,” he said, plastering a bright smile onto his face. “Go ahead and get in the car. I’ll take your suitcase out.”

  Hands full of their most prized possessions, Bretton Vincent looked back at the home where he had spent so many years of his life. It was hard to say goodbye, but he knew he wouldn’t survive the city if he stayed.

  “I called your grandmother earlier, and she said she’s going to make her famous baked ziti for you,” he said, trying to cheer up his sullen daughter.

  “Cool,” she said dryly, looking out the window.

  Just blocks away from their wealthy neighborhood, there were people forming crowds. Bretton was relieved, as he had a sneaking suspicion that the people he saw were infected and looking to become violent.

  They rolled up to a stoplight at the edge of town, just before the highway. Just a few more minutes, and they would be out of town. They could leave this madness behind.

  A group of disheveled looking people swarmed Bretton’s car, expressionless faces peering into the windows.

  “Dad,” Natalia called, looking at her father in fear. It didn’t take an expert to know that there was something terribly wrong with those people.

  Bretton clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. There were now people standing directly in front of his car, blocking his passage to the outside world.

  He laid on the horn, hoping to startle the people in front of them. This did nothing to scare them away, but instead infuriated them. They pounded on the car as if they had predetermined their actions.

  “Just drive,” Natalia screamed.

  Bretton hesitated. If he drove on, he would certainly kill people. He had already done enough damage to his city. He didn’t want to see the blood on his hands. It was easier to pretend it didn’t exist.

  Suddenly, a baseball bat shattered the passenger’s side window and grey hands of all sizes reached for his daughter, yanking her from her seat. Natalia let out a blood curdling scream, freezing Bretton in his tracks.

  When his mind finally caught up to his surroundings, he reached for her foot, but she was already nearly out of the car. It was one against twenty at this point. The road ahead of him was now clear, and with the bat-wielding maniac making his way toward the driver’s side window, Bretton had a choice to make.

  With tears in his eyes, he pressed down on the gas pedal, leaving his daughter in the midst of the swarm.

  As he drove, he reasoned that if he had been infected, there would be no one left to create a remedy. He was gutted that he had to watch his daughter go, but she was collateral damage in the war between humans and the virus. He knew that there was still a chance she’d survive the attack, and then he could come back for her to deliver the first cure to her. He just needed a little more time.

  If anyone asked, he would say that he hadn’t seen his daughter in days. Or, he’d explain that she had become infected and there was nothing he could do. They would understand.

  He wondered how long the guilt would eat at him, tearing him apart from the inside, just as his laboratory creation was currently doing to hundreds or even thousands of people.

  Bretton’s first priority was to find a safe place. Then, and only then, would he begin to work on a cure. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he was infected by his own invention. He just needed to create the solution to his problem before it was the death of him.

  Click here to keep reading Point Of Transmission.