N87 Virus | Book 1 | After the Outbreak

by Kadin, Karri

  “Hey, Sheila. I brought someone for you to meet. Sheila, Allison. Allison, this is Sheila.”

  The room was dimly lit with a single light shining onto a wall covered in photos. Hundreds of photos. One side was covered in children’s school pictures, smiling family photos, snapshots of people living normal lives. The other with withered bodies of Infected strapped to metal tables. Infected in cages. Dead bodies.

  “Well, this is the Allison you have been telling me about? Nice to finally meet you, young lady.” Sheila sat at a desk in front of the wall. Her glasses teetered on the tip of her nose. A flowered scarf adorned her neck.

  “Nice to meet you.” Allison tried to make eye contact with Sheila, but her gaze kept shifting to the wall of pictures.

  “I know it’s not the most pleasant sight. But there is a method to my madness,” Sheila smiled.

  “I’m going to run some errands. I was hoping Allison could stay with you for a bit?” Dave asked.

  “Why, of course. Do what you need to. We will see you soon,” Sheila said. Dave patted Allison’s shoulder before leaving the room.

  “Why am I here?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. You might as well get comfortable while you’re here.” Sheila pointed to the chair across from her and shuffled through files on her desk. Allison sat.

  “Why do you have those pictures?” Allison asked. The files were all labeled with first and last names.

  “It’s a reminder of where we came from and where we need to go.” Sheila leaned back.

  “What do you do with all of this?” She waved her hand at the piles of files and paper.

  “Find purpose. I was a history teacher. Before. Now I document history for future generations. So we don’t repeat it. So we learn from it.” Sheila coughed and the scarf on her neck fluttered. She pulled a suction bulb from her desk and lifted the scarf revealing a hole in her neck dripping with mucous. She used the bulb to suction the hole before she wiped it clean and recovered it with her scarf. Allison shifted her eyes to the floor.

  “What happened to you?”

  “The same thing that happened to you, child. And everyone else on this planet. Everyone has a story.”

  “How did you get that hole in your neck?”

  “I lost everything. My family, my friends, my home. I was alone. I felt I had nothing to live for. I slit my throat. As luck would have it, the safe camp I was in was housed in an old hospital. A surgeon was among the survivors there. The damage I caused was too great to completely repair. So now I’m left with this little reminder of my stupidity.”

  “You were desperate.”

  “Yes. I was desperate because I lacked purpose. Everyone needs purpose.” Sheila opened a file on her desk and held up a snapshot of a smiling family at Disney World. “The man in this photo is now a member of our town. I helped him find his only surviving child.” Allison leaned forward on the desk, looking at the smiling family.

  Sheila opened another folder and held up a picture of a woman holding an enormous fish. “This woman passed through here a few months back. She served in the U.S. Army prior to the outbreak. She was at The Battle of Earlsboro. She recounted the story of that battle for me. She gave me the names of soldiers who died there. It’s now documented. We can learn from it. It may help me find someone else closure someday.”

  “I don’t have a purpose. I just survive.” Allison hung her head. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned as she suppressed tears. Sheila took Allison’s hand and squeezed it until Allison looked up at her.

  “Everyone has a purpose. You just haven’t found yours yet.”

  A knock sounded at the door before Dave peeked his head in.

  “You ready to go, kiddo?”

  “Yeah.” Allison sniffled and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand as she stood. Sheila came around the desk and wrapped Allison in her arms.

  “Life is about more than surviving. Remember that.”

  Sheila walked them to the front of the store. She handed Dave a bag of canned goods and insisted he take it.

  “I won’t take no for an answer. Tell Sandy hi for me.” Sheila waved as Dave and Allison climbed into the truck. Jerry, still by the door, tipped his hat to them as they drove away.

  That night Allison walked the property, Sandra watching her while she pretended to be absorbed in her knitting.

  “Please don’t go too far. It’s so dark tonight!” Sandra shouted. Code for don’t do something stupid again.

  “I won’t.” Allison went into the large barn and kneeled down near a baby cow nestled in the hay. She stroked its soft, spotted fur, and it pressed its pink nose to her hand. She smiled.

  “Allison,” a man’s voice called from the dark. She spun around to see Jerry in the same cowboy hat as earlier walking toward her from the back of the barn.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you. We need to talk.” He reached behind his back, the outline of the gun on his hip visible as he moved. Allison’s body tensed, and she quickly jumped back.

  “I will not hurt you. I’m just getting some papers.” He pulled the papers from his back pocket and extended them out toward her.

  “You’re from the store this morning.” She took the papers.

  “Yes. I don’t have long. But I needed to warn you. You are in danger here. Dr. Neff knows you’re here. He is coming for you.”

  “What? How do you . . . ?” Allison stuttered as she unfolded the papers.

  “I just know. He’ll have the Collectors here any day. You must leave.”

  “Why? He just wants me to help him make a cure.”

  “He didn’t tell you the total story. Read these papers if you don’t believe me. They are from Dr. Neff’s private office. One of our insiders managed to get a copy.” Allison looked at the tattered papers. A log of multiple failed experiments to find the cure. Hand-written notes on the sides totaling the number of patient deaths and donor deaths. A sheet with Allison’s name at the top, lab results, and a note at the bottom: “Ideal candidate for bone marrow donation for C. Death probable.”

  “I am on your side. Dr. Neff wants to take all of your bone marrow to create a cure. That would kill you.”

  “Maybe that’s my purpose. I die so thousands more can live.”

  “No. There is no proof it would even work. Just dozens of innocent people who are now dead because they trusted him. He’s searching for a cure for his son, only for his son. Your life is just as valuable as his son’s. Dr. Neff is cruel.” Jerry pulled a picture from his shirt pocket and handed it to Allison. A naked woman strapped to a table, eyes open in a vacant stare, mouth ajar. Her skin was so thin the bones beneath seemed they would tear through. Red, open wounds covered her body. Patches of her hair were missing. Allison’s heart ached. She clutched her chest with a trembling hand.

  “You can heal quickly, right? Have predator instincts? Maybe you’ve even noticed some other capabilities you didn’t have before you were infected with N87.” Jerry’s eyes bore into her. Allison nodded. “He needs former Infected like you. You have to go.”

  “Are there more like me?” Allison’s chest tightened and her breathing quickened. Her palms were clammy, moistening the picture in her hand. Jerry nodded.

  “I have to go. Please, just leave. It’s not safe for you here. If you don’t care about yourself, think about Sandra and Dave. They won’t let him take you without a fight. What will Dr. Neff do to them?”

  Allison shuddered and her eyes rimmed with tears. She looked up from the photo just in time to see Jerry slip out the back barn door. Heart pounding, Allison ran to the house.

  “Sandra! Dave!” She had to leave. She couldn’t let anything happen to them.

  Allison was ready to leave with plenty of daylight left. Allison walked over to Dave and fell into his bear hug as Sandra stroked her hair.

  “Thank you for everything you have done for me,” Allison said as she withdrew from Dave’s embrace.

  “You are welcome here anytime. If at a
ny point you decide you need to come back, or you just want to come back, we will be here waiting.” Dave kissed the top of Allison’s head.

  “We will miss you so much, sweetie! So much! Please be safe!” Sandra engulfed Allison in a tight hug and motherly kisses.

  “You be safe,” Allison said. “What will you do if the Collectors show up here like Jerry said?”

  “We will handle it. Don’t worry about us. You have enough on your plate,” Dave said.

  “As soon as I find a way to let you know I’m okay, I will.” Allison said as she slipped from Sandra’s arms and opened the truck door.

  Sandra wiped tears from her eyes as Allison climbed into the truck. Allison started the engine as she watched Dave gently put his arm around Sandra’s shoulders, pulling her close as the tears fell. Allison rolled down the window.

  “I love you. Both of you. I’ll never forget you,” Allison said with tears rimming her eyes. Sandra’s light cries turned to sobs.

  “We love you too,” Dave said as he squeezed Sandra tighter.

  Allison drove off down the lengthy gravel drive with the image of Dave frowning, Sandra crying, but both waving goodbye in her rear view mirror.

  Once she hit the paved road, she pulled out the crumpled piece of paper with the directions to the farm and laid it on the seat next to her. The farm was only about an hour away, and that thought sent Allison into a shudder. At any given moment I could be near someone whose life I destroyed, and I wouldn’t even know it. Thankfully, there were no checkpoints between Sandra and Dave’s and the farm, so Allison would not have to speak to any Collectors. She knew it would happen eventually but would like to avoid it as much as possible.

  The drive was peaceful despite her pounding heart. She saw only one other vehicle on the road; a dark green truck was behind her for a bit right after leaving Sandra and Dave’s. It turned off the main road shortly after it appeared, and she had been the lone vehicle on this stretch ever since.

  The two-lane road was lined with tall trees full of fresh leaves. Allison rolled down her window and relished the smell of fresh foliage that wafted in on the wind. She came across a large alligator snapping turtle in the road, slowly making its way across. Allison eased the truck to a complete stop as she watched the ugly creature cross. She stared into the forest as the turtle slipped into the ground cover, hidden from view. Birds sang, leaves rustled, but the world was mainly quiet and still around her. Peaceful.

  She continued driving, watching each mile creep across the truck’s dashboard. As she moved closer to her destination, her stomach twisted, her muscles tightened, and her heart raced. When Allison realized she was only a few miles from the man’s farm, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She jerked the truck to the side of the road, bringing it to an abrupt stop just in time to sling open her door before the vomit roared from her lips. She shakily wiped her mouth before she rested her head on the steering wheel. What am I going to say? Sorry I killed your kid, my bad? Allison pulled her journal from her pack and read some apologies she had written. They all sounded so scripted, so fake. She turned to a blank page and began writing.

  Apology

  I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you. I took away the life of your child, which is something I can never make up for. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive . . .

  Allison scratched through the words and tried again.

  I hurt you in the worst way imaginable. I killed your child. I can never fully understand the pain I caused you. All I can do is take responsibility for my actions and beg for your forgiveness.

  Allison compared the apologies and decided the second was the one to go with before tucking her journal back in her pack. She shifted the old truck into gear and headed toward her penance.

  Allison pulled up to the driveway of the farm. The entrance had an arch over the driveway with its name on it, Apple Acre Farm. Allison’s heart thumped in her chest. The sound was deafening. The house wasn’t visible from the entrance to the drive. This added to her anxiety. With shaking hands, she pulled out her journal and flipped through it till she found the page where she had written her apology. She read it over and over and over again. The more she read it, the colder it seemed. She threw the journal across the cab of the truck and drove up further into Apple Acre Farm.

  A few minutes later Allison pulled up in front of a single story white farmhouse. Laundry was hanging outside, chickens were pecking around the front porch, but not a person was in sight. She turned the truck around so it was facing toward the road in case she needed to make a quick getaway. She reached for the gun case on the passenger-side floor but hesitated. She didn’t want to come across as hostile, so she left it. She knew Sandra would not approve.

  She climbed out of the truck, keeping the keys held tightly in her hands, and began walking to the front door of the farmhouse. Before she made it to the porch, a man came out the front door. He was tall and slender, no older than forty. His light brown hair was overdue for a haircut and sprinkled with gray. His overalls were loose-fitting jean material with one strap hanging down his back. His blue shirt was spotted with stains. He had dark brown work boots; the laces were undone like they were put on in haste. The man’s tanned skin was coated in a thick layer of dirt.

  “What do you . . . ?” he stopped mid-sentence and stared at Allison, his mouth hanging open in a look of surprise. All the color drained from the man’s face and he was left white as cotton.

  “I’m Allison. I need to say . . .” she began, but the man’s loud voice cut through the air, putting a dead stop to her words.

  “I know who you are.” He started toward her before he spun back around on his heels, back to his porch. “Never cared to know your name. But I know who you are and what you did.” His voice dripped with disdain. Allison’s heart pounded as if it was going to beat out of her chest. A lump formed in her throat. The man’s body shook and his arm flew out in front of him knocking planters from the porch rail. The pots shattered into tiny pieces across the wood porch, the innards of the plants now helplessly exposed to the elements. “You killed my son. My sweet, innocent boy, my Jake. You ripped his arm from his body like an animal.” Allison’s body quaked, so she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Yes, I did,” she whispered with a quiver in her voice. He began pacing along the porch, running his hands through his hair.

  “That is all you have to say? You destroyed everything!” The man began crying but never stopped pacing, his boots crunching across the terracotta shards scattered across the porch.

  “I came to say I’m sorry. Mr. Clinton, I’m so sorry for what I did to your son. I’m so very sorry.” Allison’s body shook. “I just wanted you to know that.”

  “What good does it do for me to know that? Can you make it so my son is alive again? So my wife is alive again? She killed herself, you know, not even six months after you took our boy. She couldn’t take a world without Jake in it. Shot herself in the same spot you mutilated him in.” The man stopped and stared at Allison. He began swiftly walking toward her. Hate and pain filled his eyes. Allison scurried backward, falling against her truck. Warm tears fell down her face as she slumped down to the ground.

  “I’m sorry! I am so sorry! I am sorry, so sorry! Please forgive me!” Allison screamed as her body shook and warm salty tears slipped onto the ground. The man halted. His tightly clenched fists shook at his sides. He took a quick step toward Allison again, then wavered. Eyes full of fury glued to her. His jaw quivered as if he were about to speak. He stepped back from Allison and shoved his hands into his pockets. He turned back to his house and paused at the steps. A few moments which seemed like hours passed then he spun back toward her. His face was softer now, but still full of agony. A few lines of unblemished skin were on his face from where tears had cleared away the dirt. A lifetime passed before he spoke.

  “I will never forgive you. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.” He put his hands in his hair and looked at the ground. “I know you we
re sick. I know you couldn’t control what you did. That’s the only reason I’ll give you until I come back out of my house to leave my property. If you are here I will kill you.” He marched into his house, a worn screen door slamming behind him.

  Allison scrambled up from the dusty driveway, wiping the tears from her face as she climbed into the truck, backed down the driveway, and swung onto the road away from Apple Acre Farm.

  Chapter Ten

  Dr.Neff

  Daylight was fading as the Collectors arrived back at the medical camp. Dr. Neff stood in front of the tent, waiting. When the men exited the vehicles and scurried to their tents, he knew they had failed. The commander avoided eye contact as he walked over to Dr. Neff.

  “She’s gone, sir.” The commander stood tall, eyes fixed straight ahead.

  “What do you mean she’s gone?” he hissed.

  “We met our informant on the way to the Wilton farm. He said he had seen her leave in the Wiltons’ blue truck. I sent a few men to stake out the place and they confirmed it. No girl, no truck.”

  “The Wiltons must know where she is.”

  “We did not engage with them in case she was coming back. We didn’t want to show our hand.”

  “You go again. This time I’m going with you. Get out of my sight.” Dr. Neff stormed back into the tent as the commander hurried away. He threw a clenched fist at a table as he passed it, knocking the contents to the floor. The loud clatter of medical instruments falling to the ground and the heavy footsteps of the doctor sent a wave of gasps throughout the tent. Everyone darted out of his way, but one nurse was not quick enough. She stepped out from a curtained room just in time for Dr. Neff to catch her with his narrow eyes as he stomped down the hall. With fury in his eye he zoned in on her. The new focus of his wrath. She attempted to step back into the room, out of his reach, but it was already too late; she was within his grasp.