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

by Max Lockwood

  She closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing and heart rate. Clutching her stomach, she wished she had eaten some of her rations, as her stomach was gurgling conspiratorially. Elaina listened carefully as the footsteps came closer but ultimately passed the science classrooms and continued on. With any luck, the men would realize that they had no business in an abandoned school and leave her alone. However, she was already mentally preparing herself for a long night crouched down behind a stool.

  Once she thought the immediate danger had passed, Elaina heard a shriek. It was unmistakably the scream of a young woman, clearly in danger. She froze in her tracks, weighing her options.

  If she investigated the scream, she would be putting herself in harm’s way. Not only would she expose herself to whatever danger the girl was in, but also to having her makeshift lab shutdown. If the men realized she was a wanted woman, she would end up at the nearest police station, with no work to back up her theories on the vaccine.

  But if she stayed silent, something terrible would happen to the woman. She was sure of it.

  She had a choice to make, and she needed to make it soon.

  The girl screamed again, this time with more panic in her voice. It was the chilling noise of someone who was desperately looking for help but knowing there was little chance of being saved.

  Elaina remembered what the woman at the grocery store told her. Elaina felt partially responsible for some of the bad that was occurring in the world and felt like she owed it to her community to correct a few wrongs, no matter how isolated or specific they were. She might not be able to cure the virus taking hold of the country, but she could save one girl from whatever danger she was in.

  Checking to make sure her vials were secure in her pocket, she grabbed a scalpel from the lab and quietly ran out the door.

  Elaina would never categorize herself as being particularly brave, but she also thought of herself as a generally good person. In the middle of an epidemic centered around her work, she felt it necessary to make sure she made it through with some of her morals still intact.

  With one last deep, wavering breath, she stood up straight and ran directly toward the source of danger, ready to fight.

  Chapter Five

  Bretton had driven for about an hour without his daughter. A few times, he thought about turning around and going back to look for her, but he had to stop himself. He knew deep down that she was already infected and would likely pass the virus on to him.

  He couldn’t go to his mother’s house now after letting his daughter be dragged away by strange men. She was perhaps the only person in the world who could see past his lies. One look into her eyes, and his story would be blown. He would call her later to tell her of their change in plans.

  She’d be concerned about them, but he’d reassure her that wherever they were going was especially safe. He’d maybe even tell her to come visit them once it was safe to travel. Of course, the virus would continue to spread for some time, so he had a good cover. Then, he’d provide everyone with the cure, and the country would be so grateful that no one would ever question his past actions. No, he would be akin to a saint.

  While getting his doctorate in virology, he had worked closely with medical doctors to help them to create new vaccines to improve upon old technology. He’d even done a little pharmacological work on antiviral medication. He wasn’t an absolute expert, by any means, but he had a good enough working knowledge that he figured he could make a rough product. Then, when he had more help, he could hire people to refine his work and make it salable on the market.

  Not only would he be saving the world, but the sale of his drug patent to a pharmaceutical company would garner him millions. He wondered if he would have any say on how much the drug would sell for. In a few weeks, perhaps tens of thousands would become infected, and anyone who could afford the cure would be sure to buy it. He imagined that it could sell for a few hundred dollars a dose, and the recipients of it would be thankful that it was available at all.

  Then, when the vaccine was available, everyone in the world would want it. Everyone would go to their doctor’s office and ask for it by name. He’d see to it that whatever it was called would include his name in some variation. Between an antiviral and a vaccine, he’d probably be featured on a postage stamp some day.

  Bretton was so caught up in his daydream that he had momentarily forgotten all about his missing daughter. In fact, he was so wrapped up in his fantasy that he didn’t seem to notice that the stoplight in front of him had turned red.

  His SUV slammed into the side of a compact car, crushing it like an aluminum can. He spun around twice, completely out of control.

  When his car stopped, he looked to see what he’d hit. Pushed onto the opposite sidewalk lay a little blue car, tipped over on its side. Bretton couldn’t tell how many people were inside, but he heard signs of life.

  A cold sweat washed over him. This was the last thing he needed at the moment. Not only had his daughter been snatched right from underneath his nose, but he had just gotten into a serious car accident, the fault, no doubt, his own.

  “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. He looked around. There were a few people starting to poke their heads out of their houses, but besides that, there were few bystanders. He hoped there weren’t any witnesses and it would just be his word against the other driver’s. He couldn’t afford to get himself into any trouble right now.

  As he neared the car, he could hear calls for help become increasingly louder. When he looked into the window, he gasped.

  A young woman lay tipped over with blood covering her entire face. He could hardly make out facial features underneath all the red.

  “I’m stuck,” she cried, straining to free herself from the crushed metal.

  “I’ll call for an ambulance,” Bretton said. “Are you badly hurt?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I can feel a few cuts, and my legs are killing me, but otherwise, just a little sore all over.”

  “So no neck or head trauma?” Bretton asked, trying to get a good feel for the situation.

  “Not that I know of,” she replied. “I just can’t move because I’m completely trapped in here.”

  “My phone’s in the car. Give me one minute and I’ll be right back.”

  “Please hurry,” she called.

  Bretton jogged to his car to grab his cellphone. He dialed 911 and requested an ambulance for the corner of 13th and Vine.

  “Listen,” he said to the operator. “I can discuss the specifics of the accident with the officers when they arrive. I just need to quickly let you know that she’s in need of medical attention so I can go back there and help. Just send help,” he said shortly.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the operator responded in a calm but firm voice. “It could be quite some time until somebody can get there. A lot of our city employees have been ordered to go into the city to help. Everyone left here is busy with calls about illness and looting. I’m going to need you to stay on the line so I can give you first aid instructions if needed.”

  Bretton sighed and threw his one free hand up in the air. “I’m going to hang up now.”

  “Wait,” the operator quickly interjected. “I need to ask you one last question. Are there people swarming the injured motorist?”

  “Excuse me?” Bretton asked, confused.

  “For the safety of our first responders,” he said nervously, “I need to know if there are any people swarming the car in an unusual way.”

  “Unusual, how?” Bretton asked, raising his voice.

  “Like the infected act,” the operator said, getting to the point.

  Bretton whipped around and looked at the little blue car. Sure enough, a few people had come out of their homes. But Bretton couldn’t tell if they were infected or just bystanders looking to help.

  “I—I don’t know,” he stuttered. “There are a few more people now, but I can’t tell if they’re infected or just trying to help.”

/>   “Try to take a closer look. Are they helping like normal people would, or are their movements erratic?”

  Bretton took a few steps closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a woman run down the street, snarling. Two others followed her.

  “Shit,” Bretton hissed, hanging up the phone. He heard the woman in the car calling for help, but he ignored her, jumping into the driver’s seat of his car.

  Turning the keys in the ignition, he muttered to himself, pleading for the car to start. Just when he thought he heard the sound of the engine turning over, it would groan to a stop. He had damaged the vehicle too much in the crash. It was not functional enough to take him away from the danger.

  He knew that if he sat in his car, eventually, someone would come by and drag him out of the window like they did with his daughter. Not a particularly strong man, he didn’t think he would be able to fight off more than one infected person.

  With no other options, he grabbed his wallet and phone and jumped out of his car, running like hell in the opposite direction of the crash. In the span of an hour, he’d watched a kidnapping and committed a hit and run, and he didn’t even look back. He knew that they had entered into a time of lawlessness, and if he didn’t watch out for himself, no one would.

  As he ran, he heard the calls for help turn into screams. The screams became louder and shriller the further he got. Bretton focused on the sound of his breathing so he didn’t have to hear the woman yell. When that didn’t work, he made a low humming noise to quiet the deafening screams he heard. He ran so far away that he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was hearing the woman or just unable to shake the sound.

  Finally, they stopped.

  It was eerily silent. When Bretton surveyed the scene, he was in the middle of a dirt road, surrounded by empty fields. He couldn’t see or hear anyone. The only sounds came from the wind and the crunch of the gravel underneath his shoes.

  He wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead on the back of his hand. The sun was starting to retreat back into the horizon. If he didn’t see shelter by nightfall, he had no chance of sleeping. From everything he’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours, he was certain that if he weren’t careful, he would be attacked next.

  Bretton continued down the road, panting. He couldn’t see the next town, but he hoped it would be a safe haven for him. Once he caught his breath, he planned on picking up the pace until he reached civilization.

  In the distance, he heard a car drive in his direction. Not confident that the person inside would be useful to him, he crouched down into a ditch to let it pass. If he could catch a tiny glimpse of the driver and determine that he or she was safe, he would flag them down. If there were anything suspicious about them, he would lie down and play dead. From what he saw on the news, the infected were only interested in the living.

  As the vehicle came up over the hill, Bretton realized that the car wasn’t civilian at all. The bulky military vehicle slowed as it reached Bretton’s hiding place.

  “Stand up and put your hands on your head,” a female voice boomed from the armored car.

  Bretton jumped up and waved his hands above his head, in hopes that the occupants would realize that he was not infected and in need of help.

  In response to his movements, three different firearms aimed directly at his head and torso.

  “No, don’t shoot,” Bretton screamed. “I’m not infected. I was chased out here by a group of infected people, though. They’re about three miles that way,” he continued, pointing to the scene of the wreck.

  It was as if no one could hear him. He spoke louder, pleading his case.

  “You don’t understand,” he bellowed. “I’m not infected. I’m running from the infected. I got into a car accident and people started swarming the scene. I think they killed the woman. They took my girl from me, too.”

  The weapons didn’t budge. He started sobbing, and the loud howls coming from deep inside his chest didn’t help his case in proving that he was a sane man.

  Such cruel irony it was for Bretton. He had spent so much time doing arguably what was the wrong thing in hopes of saving his own ass. He’d endangered the entire human species for fame, abandoned his daughter in exchange for a quick getaway, and left a poor woman trapped in her car to avoid encountering an infected person. Now, he was going to be gunned down by the only people who could possibly help him. He would die a healthy man. His misdeeds had been completely unjustified.

  “Please don’t shoot,” Bretton cried again, dropping to his knees. “I’m sorry. I’m just so scared.” He wept quietly, head bowed.

  As he closed his eyes and prepared for death, he heard the rusty screech of the vehicle door opening.

  Bretton scrambled to his feet, placing his hands on his head.

  “My name is Bretton Vincent,” he said quickly. “I work at the University of Washington Virology Lab.”

  A bald man exited the car and stood in front of Bretton on the dirt road.

  “We know, Doctor Vincent. We’ve been looking for you all day. We need your help.”

  “You’ve been looking for me?” he asked, dropping his hands.

  “Well, this virus isn’t going to stop spreading on its own, is it?” The man smiled. “Get in the car. We’ll brief you on the way to the lab.”

  Bretton let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d get his chance to right some wrongs after all. With the military on his side, he had another shot at working on the cure that would propel him into the spotlight once and for all.

  Chapter Six

  “Alec Lawrence,” the sheriff announced to the group, “you will be paired with Michael Day.”

  Alec looked across the room toward Michael and gave him a nod. Michael returned the nod and looked back down to the desk he was sitting at. He didn’t seem pleased at all to be there, but few officers did.

  In fact, morale at the station was at an all-time low. Everyone tried to keep their heads up because it was part of the job, but in quiet moments, you could hear the grumbling of employees who weren’t being paid enough to be fighting off virus-stricken residents.

  Plus, a lot of officers had family at home that they couldn’t afford to infect. These were the ones who scrubbed themselves thoroughly in the precinct showers after being on duty. They’d leave the locker room with pink skin and grim expressions, as if they knew that their exercise was one of futility.

  “Like I said before,” the sheriff said after reading off the partnerships for the day, “I’d appreciate it if you all wore face masks. The last thing I want is for someone to get coughed on and get the virus. If you choose to wear one, make sure you speak loudly enough for the citizen to hear you. We don’t want another accidental shooting case on our hands.”

  Alec looked down at the ground, but he suspected that there were other eyes on him. The captain wasn’t talking about accidental shootings in a general sense. He was referring to one specific incident . . . Alec’s incident.

  “Things are different now,” the sheriff continued. “Before, we were taking all infected into custody to quarantine them. Unfortunately, we lost every single person in the medical cell. So, if you see an infected person causing harm to others, just go ahead and shoot them. Believe me, you’ll be saving them a whole lot of suffering later on.”

  Alec winced. He and his colleagues were police officers because they wanted to protect people, not eliminate them in mass executions. He understood that there was no help for someone infected with the Morgan Virus, but it felt so wrong just to kill people for something they couldn’t help.

  If he were dealing with rapists and murderers who were trying to cause serious bodily harm, sure, he would pull the trigger and feel very little remorse. Taking a life was always a worst-case scenario, but it was necessary at times.

  This felt different. Sure, the infected were extremely dangerous to the healthy population, but they weren’t in their right minds. These were everyday people whose only crime was to get sick. A
ll it took was getting too close to the wrong person to be gunned down by his coworkers. That sentiment was not lost on Alec.

  When the briefing was over, the officers filed out of the meeting room and walked outside to their patrol vehicles.

  “Do you want to drive, or should I?” Alec asked his new partner, trying to initiate conversation. He was feeling a little more alert after finishing a bottle of water during the briefing. For the first time in days, he was functioning without any substances in his system. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he figured he could make it through the shift, and that was good enough for him. He even wondered if he could wait until the next day to pick up a fresh case of beer. He would have to see how he felt after today.

  “I’d like to drive, if that’s okay with you,” Michael said softly, heading toward the driver’s side.

  “Sure,” Alec said brightly. “Not a problem with me. Besides, I’ve heard you’re skilled behind the wheel, and we’ll need someone who can navigate this mess. Do you fancy yourself a racecar driver?” he joked.

  “No,” Michael said, looking at the door handle. “I just don’t want to have to discharge my weapon if I can help it.”

  Alec gritted his teeth. He knew there were a lot of officers who were upset by his actions and didn’t want him to come back to work. Apparently, Michael was one of them.

  After they got situated in the patrol car, Alec turned to Michael. He hated anything that resembled talking about feelings, but not having a good trust between partners led to accidents and mistakes.

  “Look, man,” he started, avoiding Michael’s eyes, “do we need to talk about anything before we get out there? It’s going to be a long day, and it’s better if we get any conflicts out of the way now.”

  “What do you mean?” Michael asked innocently.

  Alec rubbed an aching spot on his forehead. “Nothing. It’s just that you don’t seem very pleased to be working with me today, that’s all.”

  Michael squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “The girl you shot? She was friends with my younger sister. She grew up across the street from us growing up. She would have never done anything to hurt anyone. The experience completely rattled her whole family. It’s just awful.”