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

by Max Lockwood

  The girls stood at the front of the store and waited. If anyone were in there, keen to attack, the sounds of their footsteps would have triggered an ambush.

  “I think the coast is clear,” Elaina whispered, picking up a pink backpack from a display near the door. “But let’s be quiet, just in case. Ten minutes, and then let’s get out of here.”

  Natalia nodded and grabbed a bag of her own, stuffing water bottles into the drink holders on either side. Elaina did the same before they split up, heading into different aisles. Natalia cruised through the health food section while Elaina booked it to the back of the store.

  She had hit the jackpot. The in-house pharmacy was one of the best in the city. Elaina’s dad’s friend used to be a pharmacist at that location, and Elaina, interested in everything, got to visit once in her youth. She marveled at shelf after shelf of clear bottles with pills of every shape and size.

  Most importantly, she remembered him taking her to the section where they kept the antiviral medication. That was obviously the highlight for her. In those giant plastic bottles were tablets and nasal sprays specifically designed to stop the viruses that wreaked havoc in the human body. They were the antidote to some of the most powerful destructive forces in the world.

  “With these,” the pharmacist had told her, “you have to take them at the right time. If you catch it early and take them at the first sign of symptoms, then you’re in good shape. You might still have some symptoms, but they’ll be a lot more manageable.”

  “What if you don’t take them immediately?” she’d asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Then it probably won’t do much,” he’d said, frowning. “You’ll be stuck suffering through whatever nasty bug you’ve got. That’s why they’re tricky drugs. No one’s really found an easy way to kill a virus off in its late stages. That’s why vaccinations are so important. It’s easier to prevent a virus than it is to treat it.”

  Elaina agreed with that concept. It wasn’t too hard to make a vaccine for already well-established and frequently studied viruses. Her parents told her all about how big of a deal it was when the HIV vaccine came out. That virus had been officially eradicated when she was still a little girl. A good vaccine could protect billions from completely avoidable illnesses. It was that kind of work that she longed to do.

  But there seemed to be bigger issues in the world. With military conflicts popping up all over the world, issues like border security and bioterrorism took center stage. No one thought much about illnesses that people passed through daily human interaction. It just wasn’t seen as a big enough threat.

  Only people like Elaina knew it was. Travel was faster and easier than it had ever been. You could fly from San Francisco to Shanghai in less time than it took to watch a baseball game. Just one infected person on that flight could spread disease to a multitude of countries. While the government was busy making sure that people crossed the borders with proper visas and identification, no one was stopping to make sure that no one was unintentionally smuggling in deadly diseases. The funding just wasn’t there for people in Elaina’s line of work. They had to make do with whatever they could get.

  It wasn’t all bad, though. For that very reason, Elaina could walk into a high school chemistry lab and conduct professional experiments, even though she didn’t have all of the state-of-the-art technology that she had grown to love. She could make do with less. She could walk into a partially-raided pharmacy and see opportunity instead of measly leftovers. Part of her brain was one of an inventor’s—she had enough vision to make something out of nothing—and that was exactly what she planned to do.

  Like a kid in a candy shop, Elaina excitedly glanced around the storeroom of drugs before deciding what she wanted. First, she filled the bottom of her bag with pills that she believed could prove useful. Antivirals of every kind went into the bag. Next, she needed instruments. Lancets, syringes, and specimen containers were grabbed by the handful. Finally, she grabbed a few items for her own protection. Rubber gloves, masks, and disinfecting agents filled the rest of her bag. She slung it over her shoulders and clipped the strap across her chest. It was fairly heavy, but to Elaina, it was arguably more important than food and water.

  When she was finished, Lainey returned to the main store and collected a few items to hold her over until their next raid. Energy bars, dried fruits, and trail mix were jammed into the empty spaces in her bag. When that was full, she tucked snacks into her pockets next to her most valuable possessions—her virus and cure samples.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Natalia hissed when Elaina rejoined her at the front of the store. “You said ten minutes. I think it’s been at least fifteen.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I just got lost in all of the choices,” Elaina lied. “Did you get everything you needed?”

  “Yep,” Natalia said, holding up a melting pint of ice cream. She ripped open a package of plastic spoons and dug into the soft dessert. She sat on the cold concrete floor and ate so quickly that Elaina doubted she could even taste it.

  “Slow down,” Elaina laughed. “You’re going to give yourself a brain freeze.”

  “It’s hardly frozen,” Natalia mumbled with her mouth full. “I thought it would be nice to get some meat. We could make a fire at one of those parks and cook it. But, the power is out, and I don’t know if it would be safe.”

  “Probably not,” she replied.

  “I found some dry shampoo and tried to clean myself up a bit, but my hair is so dirty that it just looks like I dumped a bag of cornstarch on top of the grease. I’ve never gone this long without showering. I feel horrific,” Natalia said, scooping another spoonful into her mouth.

  “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and wash up? This place uses gravity-fed rainwater for its water supply. There isn’t much happening in this area, so I can keep watch for a while.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, looking around.

  “Go ahead,” Elaina said, helping herself to the ice cream. “I’ll give you a shout if something comes up.”

  “Thank goodness,” Natalia groaned. “I’ll hurry, I promise.”

  “Take your time.”

  Elaina sat and drank from a sports drink while Natalia rushed off to select some soaps and shampoos. Biting into a rubbery energy bar, she wondered what the best way to use her alone time would be.

  Knowing that Natalia took great pride in her appearance, she figured that she could shake off her little shadow by promising something she could not get anywhere else—a nice shower. Albeit, it would have to be contained within a grocery store sink, but it was better than nothing. Elaina just needed some time alone, something that Natalia would not willingly give her.

  As she refueled, she decided that it might be worth it to start working on a vaccine just in case she found a lab at their next destination. She wandered through the empty aisles until she found a dozen chicken eggs. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she carefully took miniscule portions of her original virus and injected them into the eggs, sealing the hole with a little bit of tape. Then, she wrapped each egg in a short length of bubble wrap and tucked them into her jacket pockets. Once her pockets were full, she carefully tucked the last one into the top of her snug camisole. She hoped the body heat would be enough to incubate the virus.

  Once she was finished, she picked through a melting bag of frozen berries, sucking on the sweet fruit until it completely thawed in her mouth. After a few handfuls, her stomach started to hurt. It had shrunk over the past few days of their unintentional fast, and all of the food and drink that she craved just couldn’t fit.

  Natalia hadn’t returned yet, but she heard the water running and assumed she was fine. With no other work to be done in the store, Elaina wandered the aisles aimlessly, browsing through the strange hodgepodge of products that hadn’t been picked over yet.

  The items in the store told a story. The store was low on stock, just as it would be upon the eve of a big storm. Only the molding loaves
of bread at the back of the displays were left sitting to decompose, and foods that required work to prepare like meats were left in the freezers to thaw. Bags of flour and sugar sat untouched, while ready-to-eat foods like chips and cookies were scarce. Even in the middle of an emergency, people needed their vices. Elaina opened a sad looking bag of generic chocolate chip cookies, nibbled on one, and tossed the bag back onto the shelf.

  “There you are,” Natalia said, patting at her damp hair with a handful of paper towels.

  “Feeling better?” she asked the girl.

  “So much better,” Natalia gushed. “Sorry I took so long.”

  “No problem,” Elaina said. She was just happy to see Natalia in a better mood. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Aren’t you going to wash up?” Natalia asked.

  “Do I smell?”

  “No.”

  “Then I think I can make it a little while longer,” Elaina replied. “I’m ready to leave. I couldn’t possibly eat anything else right now.”

  “Me neither,” Natalia replied.

  The girls picked up their bags and headed back out into the world. Neither could guarantee that there would be adequate food or shelter where they were going, but in that current moment, they felt satisfied.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Doctor Vincent,” one of the assistants said, jolting Bretton out of a daydream, “I was just informed that you are to meet with the Colonel at the end of the day. Can I tell him that you’ll be in his office at six?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” Bretton answered hastily. “Did he say what the meeting was about?”

  “Nothing specific, but I’m sure it’s not going to be a big deal,” the assistant said kindly. “I think he just wants to be briefed on your progress. If you can explain what you’ve been working on in terms that the average soldier could understand, then there shouldn’t be any breakdowns of communication.”

  “But—” Bretton stuttered, starting to sweat.

  “I understand,” he said softly. “It can sometimes be, uh, intimidating to talk to your superiors, especially when they’re the no-nonsense type. I’d suggest writing down a list of what you’ve been doing, just in case you forget.”

  Before Bretton could respond, the assistant was gone, probably off to tell the Colonel that the scientist would report with his findings at the end of the day.

  The only problem was that Bretton had no findings.

  It had been over a week, and he was no closer to figuring something out than he was when he was picked up by the military. This would be his first official meeting with senior officers, and if he didn’t have something with just a hint of potential, he would be in deep shit.

  His lack of progress had nothing to do with his surroundings. He had all of the lab equipment, and maybe even better than he had at his lab. He had assistants who could get him anything that he could ever need, and they worked tirelessly around the clock. They followed every order they got without question.

  It wasn’t enough for him, though. No one could bring him other experts in the field because there were few to be found. If the virus didn’t scare them into hiding, then it took their life. Plus, the military didn’t want a lot of scientists in on the project. Secrecy was important, and adding too many people to the mix would make it hard to keep under wraps.

  A few times, he thought he had come pretty close to figuring something out. Soldiers on the streets were very helpful in bringing in samples of the virus from bodies on the streets. Bretton couldn’t keep up with them though—each new sample that came in looked completely different from the last. It was like there were a hundred different viruses out there that all caused the same symptoms.

  One time, they even brought in a corpse in a misguided attempt to get some more insight into what was going on. This act nearly sent Bretton into a panic attack. He reminded them, in certain words, that he dealt with viruses, not the bodies that contained them. He made it clear that he was not qualified, nor willing, to perform autopsies.

  He was reaching the end of his rope. He worked long hours with no results and was becoming increasingly paranoid that others were starting to figure out that he had nothing to show for his work. It wasn’t as if he weren’t a gifted scientist—he had many published papers that had forwarded the field. It was just this very specific virus strain that he was having issues with. He felt like his entire reputation and body of work were going down the tubes just because of Elaina Morgan’s stupid new strain.

  Elaina Morgan was still a touchy subject. Sometimes, he even found himself wishing she would get picked up so she could come into work and figure out how to stop it. Bretton would be completely humiliated and would have to drop off the face of the earth, but at the very least, the crisis would be over.

  He still hung onto a shred of hope that he would still somehow manage to pull something together that would work. Maybe the government would send him someone useful to help him, like someone in pharmacology. There were virologists on different continents who would probably be of some assistance too. Where were they when he needed them?

  After another long day of making absolutely no progress, Bretton sheepishly marched into the colonel’s office. He waited for the colonel to be seated before sitting in the smaller leather chair.

  “Doctor Vincent, I hope you have some good news for us,” the large man said gruffly.

  “Umm . . . there are a few challenges with this particular virus—”

  “You don’t need to go into detail,” the colonel interrupted. “Just tell me what you’ve accomplished this far. Is this project worth continuing, or should we find someone else to take over?”

  “No!” he exclaimed. “I have a vaccine.”

  The colonel paused, rubbing his chin. “You do?”

  “Yes. It’s not quite ready yet, but I believe it should be fairly effective in a few different mutations.”

  “But it’s not a cure?”

  “No.”

  “And it won’t protect against all forms of the virus.”

  “I don’t believe so, no.”

  The colonel sighed. “If you had to guess, in what percentage of cases will it work? We have very important people who need to be protected. The Commander in Chief is going to need something to keep her safe. How effective is your vaccine?”

  Bretton gulped. If he had to guess, he figured that it would work in about a tenth of a percent of cases. And that was only if it were administered immediately and there was no incubation period involved. That wasn’t good enough. Not for the president, not for the military, not even for himself.

  “Maybe twenty, thirty percent,” he lied, wincing.

  The colonel sat back in his chair, slightly rocking back and forth. He thought for a moment. Bretton held his breath. He was overestimating by a lot, but it still wouldn’t be the right answer.

  “I’m just not sure if that’s good enough. What seems to be the problem?”

  Bretton could have rattled off a long list of problems, but it would have made him appear incompetent. He wanted to whine that he was basically set up to fail, but he couldn’t do so in front of a senior member of the military. They wouldn’t accept any excuses, so he would give none.

  “It’s just that this is the most complex virus I have ever seen in my life,” he admitted. “In most cases, this kind of thing would be studied by a whole team, maybe multiple teams around the world. Remember when the Ebola vaccine became available? Scientists all over the world had been working on that, trying to be the first to complete it. It took decades. This is even trickier than that, I’m afraid.”

  “Do you know anyone who is better equipped to take on this kind of project?”

  Bretton froze. Was he about to get fired? All of his protections would be revoked. He’d be out on his ass in a minute.

  “In full honesty,” he said, bracing himself, “there might be.”

  “May I have that individual’s name, please?”

  He pursed his lips, trying
to make his smug smile look more thoughtful.

  “Have you located Elaina Morgan yet?”

  The colonel gritted his teeth. Bretton shrank back in his chair, ready for the colonel’s full wrath. He knew that he would be poking the angry bear with that kind of comment, but it would only solidify his place in the military base.

  “Morgan’s whereabouts are still unknown. Do you have any information on her that you’d like to share with us?”

  That wasn’t a request. It was a warning.

  “Believe me, if I knew anything about where she was, I’d give her a piece of my mind. I’d be the first person leading the witch hunt against her. Did you know that I lost my daughter because of her? No, I have no motivation to keep Elaina in the shadows. I can promise you that.”

  “Okay,” the colonel said, backing off. He seemed surprised that Bretton had spoken so strongly about her. “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

  “Sure.”

  “If we managed to find Elaina Morgan, do you think she would be capable of making a vaccine or a cure?”

  Bretton figured she probably could with ease. The virus was her life’s work, her little pet project. She knew the ins and outs of it much better than Bretton did. All he’d managed to do was tinker around with it enough that it made the symptoms deadly. If anyone could do it, she could fix the problem.

  “It’s quite possible, yes,” Bretton responded.

  “Do you know much about her personal life? Does she have any close family members, friends . . . a significant other, perhaps?”

  “I don’t know about that. I would say that our relationship is strictly professional. There’s nothing really cordial about it.”

  “Do you know of any other motivations she might have?”

  “Motivations?”

  The colonel clenched his square jaw again. “Is there anything we can hold over her head in order for her to be compliant?”

  Suddenly, what the colonel was really asking clicked.

  “You mean torture?”

  “Hypothetically, if we find her, she probably won’t be willing to help us. It’s just nice to have a little information on our subjects so we know what will motivate them to do what we need them to do.”