Point Of Transmission: A Post-Apocalyptic Epidemic Survival (The Morgan Strain Series Book 1)

by Max Lockwood

  “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 not 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.

  Chapter Four

  Elaina took the exit to head into a small suburb not far from the city. She wanted to go farther down the road, but she figured that the police would be looking for her at all major research facilities in the country. If she got brought in for questioning, she would be set so far back in her progress that there would be no ch
ance of curing the disease.

  Besides, she had few supplies with her besides the lab equipment she took before it was shut down. There wasn’t a lot, but she had the necessary items she couldn’t find anywhere else. This included special beakers and flasks that she had designed herself. They also contained a few test tubes that contained the specimens she had been working with.

  She looked at her options. There was a community college about sixty miles away, or she could break into a high school lab in the little suburb. By the looks of the town, the majority of the residents had left for their vacation homes when the virus hit.

  If there weren’t a lot of people wandering around, then she figured she had a good chance of squatting somewhere without being noticed. She pulled off the entrance ramp and into the town.

  Elaina had been to Lakeshore once in her life for a high school science competition. It only took a few minutes to drive through, but it contained all the supplies she would need to survive a short stay. For everything else, she would have to make due.

  Her first stop was the grocery store. Luckily, it hadn’t been completely emptied by panicked citizens and looters. Though rations were scarce, she grabbed a few boxes of cereal, frozen pizzas, and store brand canned fruits and vegetables. She ate worse in her daily life, but now, she didn’t feel the mild shame involved in loading a cart up with junk food.

  When she got to the checkout, the store employee gave her an apologetic shrug. Elaina nodded half-heartedly in response, not exactly sure how to act around other people in this situation. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself in any way, either by being too friendly or too standoffish.

  “Do you live here, or are you just passing through?” the plump middle-aged woman in the surgical mask asked Elaina. “We’ve had so many people come through here who are just stocking up on their way out of Seattle.”

  “Passing through,” Elaina answered, neither choice of answer quite accurate. “Has Lakeshore seen any outbreaks yet?”

  “Oh, maybe a few cases. But a lot of people can afford to pack up everything and move somewhere safer. I’m not so lucky. But, if I don’t survive this thing, then that’s one mortgage I don’t have to pay.”

  Elaina couldn’t comprehend the woman’s crinkle-eyed smile under her mask. She seemed so calm compared to everyone in Seattle.

  “Oh, dear,” the woman said, “I suppose I shouldn’t be joking about something so serious. Does anyone you know have the virus?”

  “No one close to me,” Elaina answered.

  “That’s good. Stay safe out there, dear. The world can be a scary place when people aren’t willing to help one another. Take care of yourself first, but take care of others when you can.”

  “I will,” Elaina answered, gathering her bags. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime. It’s nice to have people around to talk to. This city is a ghost town.”

  After Elaina went back to her car, she stuffed the groceries in the back of her car, along with a few items of clothing and her lab equipment. If she couldn’t find a place to crash, she would be sleeping back there too.

  When she was sure she had all of her necessities covered, Elaina drove to Lakeshore High School. The school district was wealthy enough, so they would at least have one decent centrifuge for Elaina to use.

  Besides, a school was a safe place to go, since all learning institutions in Washington had been closed down in the past week. Disease spread like wildfire amongst kids, so just one infected patient could cause mass destruction in a matter of days.

  Though she was prepared to break a window to gain access to the building, the first door she checked was unlocked. Perhaps an oversight when the virus struck, this little mistake made Elaina feel much better about breaking and entering.

  She made a beeline toward the chemistry lab and turned on a few lights. The dim lighting illuminated her new work station for the next few weeks as she worked on reversing all the damage her lab had created in the first place.

  Being in the room brought her back to her high school days. Being the youngest student was tough, but the classroom was a nice respite from the stares and whispers she got when she walked down the hall. It wasn’t that the kids were mean to her, they just didn’t know how to deal with the fact that Elaina Morgan was different from the rest of them.

  She had a few friends to talk to during the day, but they were also sort of loners themselves. But if any of the cliques in her high school could welcome her, it was the nerds. While some resented her smarts and drive, others looked up to her and admired her academic passions.

  Plus, if her friends ever needed help in their advanced science classes, Elaina was their go-to girl. By learning how to break down difficult concepts for the high school crowd, she became a favorite amongst teaching assistants in college. This practice helped her when it came time to explain her work to newspapers and scholarly journals. On the inside, she abhorred being interviewed, but being the head woman in charge made her a natural candidate. It also didn’t hurt that she was pretty.

  Her soft, hazel eyes rarely lit up at anything besides her work and her family corgi, Bagel, but when they did, she was enchanting. Her long auburn hair was usually wound tight into a bun to stay safe from the lab. Her porcelain face was dotted with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose. She always wondered if her entire face would erupt into freckles if she ever managed to spend enough time in the sunlight.

  Elaina’s hands floated over the clean test tubes, neatly in their drying racks. She traced a fingernail over the assortment of different sized beakers, listening to the clinking sound they made.

  The stockroom was neatly kept, but it lacked the scope of chemicals she would have preferred to have. It was no problem, though. She could make due. Elaina admired the care the chemistry teacher had put into keeping a good lab. There was a place for everything here.

  At her old high school lab, everything was a scattered mess. Her teacher, while a smart and engaging man, was a bit scatterbrained and unorganized at times. During her free period, Elaina would visit Mr. Ryan and help him identify and label glass bottles filled with mysterious liquids. By the time she graduated, her school’s lab storage room looked as neat and orderly as Lakeshore’s. Elaina wondered how her old sanctuary looked now.

  She gathered everything she needed and placed it on the largest table in the room. She worked methodically, as if she were a master baker and making a batch of her famous red velvet cupcakes. Instead, her work was with dangerous viruses that had the potential to wipe out entire populations.

  Finally, she placed two very important vials on the table, both labeled in her meticulous handwriting—Morgan Strain and LILY.

  First, she wanted to know why her virus was having such strange effects in people. In lab tests, side effects were only cosmetic and went away with other drugs that were already on the market.

  A quick trip to the animal science room provided her with everything else that she needed to run trials. Snakes slithered in glass enclosures, hungry birds cheeped behind wire cages, and fat guinea pigs squeaked in giant plastic bins.

  Feeling sorry for the abandoned animals, she quickly made sure every critter had a few days’ supply of food and water. Once that was taken care of, she plucked the chubbiest guinea pig from the container and pushed it into a smaller wire cage.

  “I’m sorry about this,” she muttered to the guinea pig who was used to being handled by strangers. It didn’t expect to be tested on, much less by one of the biggest names in virology. Instead, it happily munched on dried alfalfa in its new home for the length of the newest trial.

  One drop of the virus went directly into the guinea pig’s tiny mouth from the vial. Elaina would have to wait a day to look at the blood samples under the microscope to see what was going on. Having a hunch that something terrible had happened to her sample, she cleaned up a dusty microscope from the biology lab and looked at her creation for the thousandth time.

  Everything about the virus
was the same as the day she’d started working on it. Every flagellum was in its place and there weren’t any mutations. She knew this virus inside and out. Why was she suddenly having problems?

  Elaina returned to the lab and grabbed a little spotted guinea pig from the container. This one was more mild-mannered than the other and sat patiently in the crook of her arm as she walked back to the lab. This guinea pig would be the first recipient of LILY. Once the guinea pig was symptom-free, it would then receive a tiny dose of the Morgan Strain. After that, time would tell if the critter would carry the virus or if it would be immune.

  If her untested vaccine worked, she might have a chance to reenter the world for human trials. Since there was such a dire need for a vaccine, she assumed she’d be allowed to work on it. Afterward, maybe she would be charged and put on trial. Any sane and logical jury would realize that what happened wasn’t her fault in any way, but not all juries were sane and logical. She couldn’t think about that too much, though. Any fear of the future would only hold her back.

  Just as she opened the bottle of LILY, she heard a noise. She held her breath, in hopes that her paranoia would soon subside after realizing there was nothing there.

  Then, footsteps echoed down the tile floors. She was not alone in the high school.

  Men’s voices chuckled and jeered, probably opportunistic looters. From what she heard on the news, the mutation caused sufferers to be in a nearly comatose-like state. These men sounded like they were full of life.

  Elaina pocketed her vials and tiptoed back to the store cupboard. She pushed a lab stool out of the way and crawled into the crevice it opened along the lab table. Carefully, she replaced the stool directly in front of her. Unless someone was specifically looking for her, she would be perfectly hidden.