by L. A. Boruff
The sick and severely malformed, the disabled and the freaks, were all forced to subject themselves to testing. Threats were made against those who resisted. In the end, no one could. Dr. Schroeder reluctantly shared his knowledge and research with a new scientist, Dr. Tina Malfoy. Together, they found a solution.
MS69.
Two strands were developed.
The first was designed as a population control. With the new upgrade in longevity, some citizens were deemed ‘unfit’ by the government and a waste of resources – particularly those on welfare, low-class individuals that bred more of the same undesirable populace. This strand was a slow acting poison distributed in certain demographics within the one thing Americans drink and can’t go without – BOTTLED WATER. These zip codes were considered a loss and therefore perfectly acceptable to distribute the virus.
Originally tested on prison inmates and those on death row, this deadly strand morphed from a slow-acting poison into a mutating virus that was uncontrollable. Never fully tested against medications or narcotics, its ability to fight against these foreign invasions of chemicals was never realized. Instead of killing the virus, the chemicals acted as a conduit and changed the virus, mutating it yet again.
No one could foresee the disastrous consequences, nor the deadly impact.
People fell ill almost immediately; flooding the local hospitals, urgent care facilities, and primary care buildings across the nation with a variety of flu-like symptoms. Antibiotics had no impact. The virus fed and mutated, adapted and consumed every attempt to overcome its natural inclination to persevere. In essence – it was a super killer.
The second strand was altogether different.
This new drug was tested on volunteer soldiers in the military. At first, the drug was successful. Man became powerful and resistant to attacks, the DNA rearranging and repairing itself when injured. These new soldiers were faster, smarter, and more resilient . . .
And then something changed.
This virus mutated.
Perhaps it was the combination of the first strand – immortality – and the second – enhancement – that caused the deadly virus to become such a horror.
Now, we live in a world where the monsters are neither living nor entirely dead. Destruction and chaos have become the norm. The living dead have succumbed to the corrupting virus, the infection spreading until all were consumed, and now these undead roam the streets.
One-year A.Z. – After Zombie – and here we are.
There’s no choice. We kill or we die. Or we die and we kill.
A life that’s nothing but horror.
Survival?
Well, that’s one day at a time . . .
Day 365, A.Z. –
A heavy thud fell against the barred door as the sound of wood splintering filled the nearly empty room and echoed inside my frantic brain.
Slam.
This was the second body thrown against the frame in the last thirty seconds. Moments ago, I pushed a metal desk in front of the thick wooden door to prevent the undead from coming in after me. The halls were thick with the bodies that bumped into one another in a sort of shuffling daze. I prayed the barrier would hold until I could figure out my next move. Luck seemed to have abandoned me lately as if it was as afraid of the Infected and undead as I was.
The office building I was in sat on the corner of Broad and Front St. Part of the abandoned Arena District downtown, the cloistered buildings, high rise offices, and ritzy apartments were surrounded on two sides by the scenic Scioto River. A destination for major concerts and Columbus Blue Jackets ice hockey games at the Nationwide Arena, it’s also home to Huntington Park, the Columbus Clippers baseball team, and the popular North Market known for its global food stalls. In the evening, office workers packed casual pubs and sports bars.
One of the biggest attractions was Red, White, and Boom. Ohio’s largest fireworks display was every July 3rd. Most of the roads closed down for the day and blocked traffic while hundreds of bodies crowded food truck alley, the craft beers stand, and packed like sardines in a can as they watched the annual parade and waited for the show to begin.
Just like last year when all hell broke loose.
One year later, I couldn’t help but miss the sound of fireworks as they boomed into the sky, cascading colors lighting up the dark night in a dazzling display. If you looked around you couldn’t miss the red, white, and blue decorations that still cluttered many of the storefronts and streetlamps. Businesses with broken and boarded windows and smashed doors were a stark contrast to the patriotic streamers, bows, and American flags. A testament to how drastically and quickly the world had gone to shit.
This year would have been the fiftieth anniversary of Red, White, and Boom. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Nostalgic? Sad? Pissed off?
Maybe a combination of all three.
It’s really disconcerting if you think about it. Undead roaming the city and decked out in patriotic t-shirts and wearing light-up necklaces with flashing red, white, and blue lights. Thankfully, those batteries died within the first couple of days. I can’t tell you how frighteningly weird it was to bump into a glowing zombie, teeth clicking, reaching out to tear your flesh from your bones. Maybe that’s why so many freaked out in the beginning and the chaos couldn’t be contained.
Zombies in patriotic gear and lit up like a Christmas tree chasing you down the street while fireworks whizzed through the air and exploded above.
Talk about macabre.
My gaze slowly surveyed the room as I crouched on the floor. The contents were scattered about – desks, office chairs, filing cabinets, phones, etc. People had left in a hurry as evidenced by overturned chairs and spilled coffee mugs.
I should have known it was too quiet today. Usually I heard the undead long before I saw them. The gnashing of teeth and shuffling of feet along with their hungry squalls, so like a starving infant in their intensity, provided the warning I needed. Undead were not in the habit of being quiet.
I smirked. They were sort of stupid. At least lately.
Perhaps the virus was taking its toll. I could only wish and pray this was the case since my survival depended entirely on the hope they would eventually die out, be destroyed, or starve to death. I was alright with that option, too.
Across the room was another door, the glowing red letters of the EXIT sign flickered with the sporadic electricity that still lingered in the building. That’s why I chose this office complex today. The power was working which meant I didn’t have to scramble around in the dark.
At least until the lights pulsed and everything went black five minutes ago.
Shit.
I grumbled under my breath and switched on my flashlight. To the right and left were long rectangular windows, both leading outside and to the sharp second story drop below, straight down to a gray slab concrete sidewalk. Jumping wasn’t an option and unless I suddenly developed the ability to fly the windows weren’t much help this high up. If I injured myself, I would never survive or return home.
Home. What a fantasy that concept was now.
Crack.
The door was weakening. I didn’t have long now before the undead would push their way inside. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled and exhaled slowly, relaxing the thunderous beating of my heart. Fear wasn’t a new concept in this post-apocalyptic world of kill or be killed.
Rule #1 – Survive.
I sprinted across the office and headed straight for the exit, reaching for the handle as quietly as possible. At an agonizing pace, I slowly turned the knob and listened for the sounds of moaning, shuffling feet, or the gnashing of teeth.
Silence.
Opening the door further, I shined the flashlight into the hall but pointed it low at the floor, looking for feet.
Mistake #1 of the day – I failed to notice the undead male on the other side of the door who lunged in my direction the moment the light shined into the hall.
Mistake #2 – The edge of t
he door caught on a piece of frayed office carpet and refused to close. The wood held on as it gripped the material and bunched up the fibers the harder I tugged. Frantically, I began yanking on the door in a desperate attempt to flee the clutching claws and rotting fingers of the undead.
Rule #2 – When all else fails . . . Run!
Clicking off the flashlight, I darted back into the office and managed a pretty awesome baseball slide behind a large row of metal filing cabinets. I’m not sure how, but I managed not to hit anything or draw more attention to myself. Shocked, I drew in a shaky breath and stuffed the flashlight into my backpack, thankful the zipper was quiet. My heart pounded in my ears as I tried to slow the anxious beats. Stopping to listen, I waited on the usual warning sounds.
Close enough to send chills down my spine, the noises of the undead were filling the room with every second that past. I pulled my knives from their sheaths strapped to each of my upper thighs. Ever since MS69, the drug that mutated and started the virus that infected the populace, I became my own version of Lara Croft. You know – Tomb Raider?
How freaking cool was that?
If only I wasn’t surrounded by walking dead people . . .
This exact moment was when I noticed the main door I’d entered – and had previously shut – was now open. Shuffling feet could be heard along with the constant gnashing and clicking of teeth. The grinding jaws of the undead – or H.I.M.S. – searched in their attempt to find food. I should clarify that food means me.
No matter what I did, I could never disguise my scent enough.
Damn fucking zombies.
H.I.M.S. (Humans Infected with drug MS, named after the two scientists who created it – Malfoy and Schroeder) were the result of the mutated virus that infected all humans who were exposed to MS69. When the drug corrupted the human DNA of those who were enhanced with MS69, they began to show symptoms of rejection and all hell broke loose.
Their bodies changed. Their skin paled. Their minds began to deteriorate.
Most disconcerting – their hunger grew.
Once the blood tests were performed, a virus was detected. Dubbed “the flesh eater” because of its horrible and painful side effects, fear spread among the populace. Those injected with MS69 noticed their bodies declined further as open sores oozed along their frames. Their skin became necrotic and their fascia erupted like some screwed up version of the bubonic plague. A craving for raw meat and fresh blood drove them to openly attack. They became murderous, singularly focused on one objective: feed.
And so, the Infected were unleashed.
The undead released the zombie fucking apocalypse.
Those who were sworn to protect became those who sought to maim and kill. Such was the way of the world now.
Survival of the fittest. Natural selection had a really bad sense of humor. Darwin was probably laughing from beyond the grave.
If it wasn’t bad enough, news of the contaminated bottled water and the devious plot by the government to exterminate low class citizens across the country was exposed. When the infected people began to overwhelm the hospitals the news media leaked the story. Only days later the outbreak proved the story was true. Anyone who came in contact and drank bottled water in the affected zip codes became ill. Now they were zombies.
Soldier and civilian zombies.
Fuck my life.
I’m not sure which ones were worse.
The Infected soldiers were extremely enhanced and scary as hell but the vast amount and high number of citizens who were undead were impossible to avoid. I haven’t even discovered all the different variations of these particularly nasty flesh eaters.
Grasping my knives firmly in each hand, I quietly crept along the carpet and toward the first open door. Moonlight shone in sparse beams through the window, hidden by thick dense clouds that mostly obscured its full round shape as the pale moon hung low in the dark sky. Nightfall. Stupidly, I’d lost track of time.
Mistake #3 – I lingered too long inside and missed the sunset.
The soldier H.I.M.S. were the most dangerous at night where their enhancements allowed for night vision. Not to mention the other Infected . . .
I was in big trouble.
Fuck.
I couldn’t make a run for it, there were too many of them. My only option was a loud distraction. The kind that would ensure most of the undead were drawn away from my only escape route. Crouching low, I sheathed my knives and let my fingers grasp the revolver on my hip with my right hand. This was risky, maybe even suicidal, but how the hell else was I supposed to get out of here alive?
Raising the gun so it leveled with one of the wide office windows across the room, I exhaled and let my finger pull back on the trigger. The gunshot echoed within the four walls, followed by a loud crash as it exited from the building, glass breaking upon impact. The next moment, my ears ringing, I witnessed the throng of undead moving toward the window. As the bodies crowded the frame and pushed against the glass it began to splinter, little cracks that formed from the gunshot exit, traveling all the way to the metal sill in all directions like a delicate spider web.
Before I knew what was happening, the glass gave way and shattered completely. H.I.M.S. began to fall through the gaping hole in the wall and splattered to the ground below as more of the living dead pushed in and those in front had nowhere to go. The sickening squelch of bodies and flesh hitting the hard concrete ground reached my ears. Dozens. Yes!
In triumph, I dashed toward the open door, raising my knife. The first body I encountered was a middle-aged man with a gut and a Blue Jackets jersey. He met the sharp end of my blade, directly in the left eye. Squelch! I yanked the blade free, kicked the body aside, and kept running, dodging the H.I.M.S. close enough to turn in my direction. Thrusting the blade through the ear canal of a young guy in an American flag t-shirt and pants with little flags all over them, I ignored the squishing sound and spurting tainted blood.
Just as I was crossing the threshold of the door, the lights decided to turn back on. The building seemed to hum with an inhuman buzz. My eyes watered at the sudden flash of bright white light as I realized the hall was full of undead who were still heading toward the sound of the gunshot.
Damn!
My only choice was to run as fast as I could beyond the emaciated and bloody bodies whose deteriorating flesh hung on their frames like meaty curtains. I hoped the sudden light disoriented them long enough for me to clear the building. Their milky eyes didn’t seem to have great vision in bright light. Staggering and temporarily blind, the H.I.M.S. bumped into one another and the walls as I ran, pushing and shoving, desperate to reach the front reception area by the main front doors to the office complex.
I made it to the emergency stairway and fire escape, yanked open the door, and descended the nearly deserted stairs. Only two floors. Luck was on my side. Well, maybe.
Not sure what I would find once I left the stairwell, I focused solely on escape. I managed to run through all the brightly colored undead, including the Bloater located just outside the elevators. I avoided Bloaters like the plague, which is kind of ironic considering this was a zombie apocalypse. Bloaters weren’t the worst I could encounter, but they were bad enough. Their overextended guts were puffed with putrid fluid and blood, their skin stretched taut as spidery blue veins spread across their large distended bellies.
They pop like ticks squished under a shoe.
I found that out the hard way once. Don’t ask.
As I fled the office building into the dark night, I noticed two things. One, the H.I.M.S. weren’t dying as they fell from the two-story window above. They were only slowed down. Many scrambled to their feet and began to shuffle in my direction, even with dangling or missing limbs. Two, there were Runners. My biggest fear in this new world – the undead I was terrified of most – were the Runners. Actually, they were Infected, not quite fully turned.
Yeah, luck was definitely not on my side.
Lone Survivor is availa
ble now!
About the Author
Nikki Landis is an award-winning and Amazon bestselling author of paranormal, sci-fi, and reverse harem romance. She lives in Ohio with her husband and amazing family.
Nikki's Newsletter
Website
Facebook
Reader's Group
Twitter
Goodreads
Bookbub
Pinterest
Instagram
Fortress in Madness
Primordial Series
Lilly Griffin
1
September 20, 2026
“Sister, what is happening? Why can’t I stop?” The fear saturating my twin sister’s voice only made me more apprehensive at our inability to stop our bodies.
“I don’t know,” I whispered as a chill ran up my spine.
My scales made dry rasping sounds against the tiled floor as I pulled myself ever forward. The trembling in my arms was not from fatigue but from trying to will my arms to stop. The invisible force drawing us to this building and the room just ahead was irresistible. Still, my sister and I fought it for all we were worth, an impossibility. The silent tears streaming down my sister’s face broke my heart. We’d been alive for a very long time, and I believed we had many more years ahead of us. Was this how we died? The wetness on my face was a testament that I too feared what was in that room. The door opened as we approached. Our matching eyes met; I saw stark terror bleeding across her face.
Beside me slid my sister, Calista, her long white body and tail stretched out behind her. The word naga floated in my mind. It wasn’t often we were in this form anymore. The two of us were hatched from the same egg and were identical in all ways. This was so rare that no one in our nesting territory could remember it ever happening. It was only told in stories by the old ones. We were born pure white from the tops of our head to the tip of our tails, another legend come to life in us, including our head full of poisonous snakes. The only color was our bright, jeweled-colored blue eyes that had streaks of black lightning striking across the canvass of our hypnotic orbs and our snakes had the same colored eyes as the two of us.
