N87 Virus | Book 1 | After the Outbreak

by Kadin, Karri

  Dr. Neff seized a fistful of her black hair, pushing her back into a curtained room, shoving her forward in front of him. He slapped her across the face as he released her hair, sending her spinning around. She fell back into a table and grasped at it, trying to keep herself upright as she searched for an exit.

  “Please, please!” she cried as he slammed his foot into the back of her knee, sending her crashing to the ground as the table slipped out from under her. She cried out in pain as she landed on all fours on the hard floor. He slammed his foot down directly on her back, pressing her body into the grungy tile. He shifted all his weight to his one leg, standing on her back until he heard the snapping ribs. He pulled his other foot up, so he was standing on the woman’s back as she struggled to free herself. Dr. Neff jumped, landing on the woman’s back, feeling her spine bend unnaturally beneath his feet.

  The nurse whimpered. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth with each raspy breath she tried to take.

  Dr. Neff stepped down from her back and kicked her side, pushing her fractured ribs further into her lungs. The force from the kick flipped the woman over onto her back, ensuring she saw the madness on her attacker’s face. She stuttered as she tried to speak, little red bubbles forming at her lips, drowning out all of her words. Her tears ran down her face, mixing with her blood, staining her cheeks and neck with pink streams.

  He then straddled the woman, holding her in place, crushing her chest further with his weight, as he slammed fist after fist into her face until she was unmoving. His body relaxed as he felt his anger fade from a three-alarm blaze to the crackle of a campfire. He stood, dusted himself off.

  “Guard! I need a Collector over here!” Dr. Neff called down the barren hall. A Collector rounded the corner and jogged toward him. “Put her on ice for Christopher’s return. No need to waste. Meat is hard to come by.” The Collector nodded and Dr. Neff took off down the hall once again without glancing back. Once he reached his office, he poured himself a glass of Scotch, noticing the blood covering the backs of his hands before wiping them on the bar towel. He then sat on the couch near his desk and propped his feet on the coffee table, observing his khaki pants now covered in blood spatter. As he sipped his Scotch and picked up a steel framed picture of Christopher from his desk, Dr. Neff’s face softened.

  “I’m so close, son. So close,” Dr. Neff said, his voice tender and kind. “I can’t cure them all. But I will cure you, Christopher. I promise. I think I’ve found the key.” Dr. Neff threw back the last of his Scotch before storming out of his office.

  Dr. Neff

  The farmhouse was quaint, the outside siding and lawn neatly kept. The black SUVs parked in the center of the driveway facing the road. They positioned themselves near the fencing which lined the gravel drive, blocking anyone from coming or leaving. The early dawn sun peeked over the roof of the home, leaking into the windows, destined to wake those within. But he would wake them first.

  Dr. Neff exited his SUV as Collectors poured from the others, guns drawn, surrounding the house. He tightened his bullet proof vest so it fit snugly across his chest. The windows of the home remained dark and still. He moved behind his vehicle, keeping it between him and the house.

  “We are ready when you are, sir,” the captain said. His all-black uniform was crisp and clean with no identifying marks of his name or rank. Over time, Dr. Neff had found it beneficial that all Collectors remain anonymous enforcers to the public. This instilled fear in the civilian population and made retribution against Collectors as individuals difficult. Fear was a far better motivator for compliance than loyalty based on likability.

  “Proceed. Once you have them detained I will join you.” Dr. Neff waved his hand toward the house.

  A crack splintered the air as a group of seven Collectors broke through the front door, splitting the wood of the paint-chipped frame. A similar crack rang from the other side of the home as another group broke through the back door. Screams erupted from the home. A single gunshot echoed from inside before all fell silent. Dr. Neff’s jaw knotted into fists, knuckles white. The front door opened and the captain waved. A smile spread across Dr. Neff’s face as he strolled through the door.

  Tied to a wood chair sat Dave Wilton with a gunshot wound to his right shoulder. The bullet had exited Dave’s back and had clearly missed anything vital. He would not die from that wound. However, the fact that he was already injured and losing blood did not fit well into Dr. Neff’s plans. Sandra Wilton was being held by two burly Collectors, her eyes brimming with tears. Dave’s eyes locked on his wife.

  “Zip tie Mrs. Wilton’s arms behind her back and have her kneel in front of her husband, please,” Dr. Neff said.

  The Collectors did as they were told and Dr. Neff approached the crying woman from behind. He gently ran his hands across her head as if he were soothing a child. She shook her head trying to escape his touch and laid her head on her husband’s lap.

  “I need one simple question answered, and once you do you are free to go. Where is Allison?” Dr. Neff asked. Dave spit toward him.

  “I don’t care what you do to me,” Dave hissed. “You can kill me for all I care. I’m not telling you anything about Allison.”

  “I do not intend on doing anything to you.” Dr. Neff grabbed Sandra by the hair, yanking her head from Dave’s lap. He held her tightly and with one fluid movement sliced her cheek open with a scalpel. She screamed with agony and dark blood flowed down her face.

  “Sandra!” Dave threw his body toward the doctor, but Collectors reached out and held the chair so he couldn’t move. “You son of a bitch!”

  Dr. Neff pulled back on her hair again, ripping pieces from her scalp as he ran his blade across her other cheek. Sandra’s entire body shook as she screamed. The front of her was covered in blood, tears, and snot. Dr. Neff petted her head again, still holding the scalpel in his hand, drops of her blood falling from it onto her hair, almost blending in with it.

  “Shh. Just answer my question and this will all be over. Where is Allison?”

  “Fuck you!” Sandra screamed.

  Anger swelled up inside his chest and it took everything in him to not run his blade across her throat to finally quiet her. He pushed her face-first onto the floor and walked over to his medical bag. He pulled something from it and held it behind his back.

  “Bring the table over and place it in front of Mr. Wilton. Lay Mrs. Wilton on it face-down please.”

  Sandra thrashed as the Collectors placed her on the table. Dave struggled against his restraints but was met with a firm right hook to his jaw. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and tears trailed down his cheeks. Sandra had one Collector each holding down her arms and another sitting across her legs. Her head turned to face her husband.

  “Don’t tell him anything, Dave. No matter what they do. Don’t tell him anything!” Sandra pleaded.

  “Sandy . . . Sandy . . .” Dave whimpered.

  Dr. Neff went and stood near Sandra’s head. He brushed her hair from her face and wiped some blood from her face. He turned and looked at Dave.

  “We can end this now. Where is Allison?” he asked.

  The couple did not speak. A Collector from behind Dave reached around and dug his finger into Dave’s bullet wound. Dave cried out. Still the couple didn’t speak.

  “Very well.” Dr. Neff pressed his palm flat against Sandra’s face and leaned all of his weight on it, sandwiching her face between him and the table. From behind his back he pulled out a wireless cauterizing tool. He set it just outside of Sandra’s view and held the scalpel in his hand before looking at Dave. Dave’s eyes were full of fear, but his mouth remained firmly closed. His chest heaved rapidly; he was nearly hyperventilating. Dr. Neff turned his attention back to Sandra. With one quick movement he ran his blade through her nose, severing half of it from her body. Blood gushed across the table. Sandra jerked against her captors and her shrill cry pierced the air.

  “No!” Dave screamed and thre
w himself forward, but again he was met with a firm right hook that sent him and his chair falling over backward.

  “I can’t have you dying yet. I still need information.” Dr. Neff turned on the cauterizing tool and began to use it on Sandra’s nose wound. Sandra’s whole body shook before she fell still, passed out from the pain. Dr. Neff finished cauterizing the wound and stood next to the table cleaning off his hands. The Collectors sat Dave back up in front of Dr. Neff. “Your wife is permanently disfigured due to your stubbornness. We can continue down this path or you can tell me the information I seek. Where is Allison?”

  Dave stared at Sandra. His shoulders heaved with each sob; his body slumped over in defeat. Dr. Neff crouched down to make eye contact with him.

  “Where is she, Mr. Wilton? I know you do not want me to cause your wife any more pain. I promise you are free to go once you tell me.”

  “I don’t know. Not fully. She has a map she’s following, trying to retrace her steps. She’s starting at a farm where she thinks she killed a little boy. I think it’s called Apple Acre.” Dave’s eyes melted with defeat. The man had no fight left in him.

  “Thank you.” Dr. Neff grabbed his medical bag before addressing the Collectors. “Clear the home of any weapons and food provisions. Then untie them and report back to camp.”

  Dr. Neff returned to his SUV and sent a text to Catherine. “The girl went to Apple Acre Farm. Start there.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Allison

  Once Allison hit the paved road, she floored the old farm truck up to sixty miles per hour. Probably the fastest the old truck had ever gone, and it showed. It shook and rattled, exaggerating every bump in the road and tossing Allison around in the driver’s seat. Allison didn’t bother consulting her maps; she just wanted out of there, away from Apple Acre Farm. Tears stung her eyes and clouded her vision. The world outside flew by in a blur of green as she focused on the yellow lines on the road, trying to keep the truck in its lane. I’m so stupid. No shit, he can’t forgive me. Allison cried until her sobs had no tears left.

  As her dry heaving slowed she let her foot off the gas and watched the odometer decrease until she was traveling at a reasonable forty-five miles per hour. The old truck seemed much happier at this speed and stopped jolting Allison around in her seat. Allison saw a sign for a rest area and pulled off the road into the parking lot. There were two small buildings next to each other on the opposite side. The asphalt was patchy, full of bumps with clumps of weeds growing in its cracks. All around the perimeter, the grass was tall and unruly. A perfect place to hide right before an ambush. There were picnic benches with worn red awnings scattered around the lot, mostly overtaken by the grass.

  Pressure built in Allison’s pelvis and she realized she needed to use the restroom. She climbed out of the truck and started to lock the door but decided against it. Who’s going to break in? Besides, I don’t want to fumble with a key if I have Infected on my ass. This area had been cleared, but Allison would rather be safe than sorry. She grabbed the pistol from its case and tucked it into her waistband as she jogged over to the bathroom.

  Allison pressed her ear to the door of the women’s restroom. It was quiet. She pulled the gun from her waistband and held it up as she pushed open the door. The stench of raw, warm sewage hit her nose, and a dry heave forced itself up from her gut. She let the door close and backed away from the bathroom, using all her energy to not vomit. She moved over to the men’s restroom but also found it empty, toilets overflowing with filth. The sewage system must have failed and came back up through the pipes. Fucking disgusting.

  Allison braced her body against the side of the building as waves of nausea passed over her. Once the urge to vomit passed Allison went to the side of the building and squatted down next to a bush, making sure she was hidden from the road as she relieved herself.

  Tires crunched on torn-up concrete and her stomach dropped. Someone’s here. Her spine stiffened, and she froze in place. Her mind raced. The man from the farm. Terror sent all her hair standing on end as her throat tightened. She slowly peered around the bush and shimmied her pants back up while remaining crouched in the tall grass. The truck parked near Allison’s, but no one exited. Her breath quickened as sweat beaded on her forehead. The windows were so darkly tinted Allison could not make out who was inside. After a few minutes the truck pulled back onto the road, heading in the same direction it had originally been going. Allison’s chest tightened as she watched the truck drive away. What were they doing? Something isn’t right. She leaned against the side of the building and closed her eyes. One, two, three—stay calm—four, five, six—stay focused—eight, nine, ten—don’t forget to breathe. Her throat loosened as her breathing returned to normal, the tightness in her chest faded, and the goosebumps on her flesh disappeared. An uneasiness rolled in her belly like thousands of beetles crawling through her digestive tract. Allison couldn’t shake one feeling: She was in danger.

  She jogged back over to her truck, keeping her eyes on the area around her. She did not want to be surprised by anyone, Infected or otherwise. She climbed in, locked the doors, and pulled out her journal. She flipped through a bit and then looked at her list in the back. Her next stop was the area where she attacked the family on top of the car. She hoped her broken shards of memory of this would help her identify the area where it occurred. She had described it to Dave and Sandra and they had narrowed the possibilities down to a few towns, all of which happened to be in the direction the black truck went. She leaned back and thought about Dave’s advice to her. He was right in telling her she needed to be careful, that not everyone would want her apology. Things at Apple Acre Farm could have gone so much worse and her future interactions could end in disaster. Telling the boy’s father she was sorry had not made her feel better, it had not relieved her guilt, and it had definitely not helped him. She now had more guilt. Guilt ate away at her, leaving a sinking hole that grew bigger with each flashback, each realization that her actions had consequences that far outreached anything she could imagine, and with each nightmare that flooded her mind while she slept. Asleep or awake, she couldn’t escape the harsh truth that she was a monster.

  When she killed that boy she ultimately killed his mother too. Yet another nameless victim to add to Allison’s nightmares. This burning hole in the center of her consumed every decent part of Allison and replaced it with a monster. There was more of the monster now than of the girl she had been. Every time she felt the now-familiar rage building in her core, she knew the hole was growing. Soon there would be nothing of Allison left. I should have died. My life only brings hurt. Even my apologies bring hurt. I have nothing to offer.

  Allison thought of her family. The family that would never look at her the same way once they knew what she was, what she had done. The family that would be in danger either from her or Dr. Neff if she ever even found them. Her throat tightened, burning with each breath she took. Allison placed her hand at her waist, resting it on the gun at her hip.

  Allison thought of Gabby. Gabby who could never bare her soul, as best friends do, to the monster Allison had become. Her body convulsed in sobs, streams of tears running down her cheeks. Allison pulled the gun from her waistband. No one could ever forgive me. Being alive puts everyone I care about at risk.

  She raised the gun, pushing the cool metal barrel under her chin. Her skin quivered under the pressure from the barrel as her pulse quickened from the sudden rush of adrenaline pumped into her system. Tears filled her eyes as she placed her shaky finger on the trigger. Everyone would be better off without me. Allison closed her eyes as she pulled the trigger.

  Nothing. No click. No pain. No loud bang. Allison opened her eyes and looked at the shiny gun in her hand. She had forgotten to rack the slide, so no bullet had entered the chamber. Allison’s body shook as relief flooded her. Relief that she was still alive. Relief that she still had choices despite how difficult they were. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with snot as she
sobbed against the steering wheel. Dave and Sandra believe I have something to offer. Believe that my life is worth something. They would miss me. Allison needed to know what she had left to offer this world. She would face whatever she needed to face to know the answer, including her past. She turned the ignition and pulled back onto the road.

  She drove into a town and saw a cheerful sign with a smiling bear and tall trees on it. “Welcome to North Bend, Home of the Fighting Bears, Population 4,000.” The community was completely deserted. Abandoned cars were in the middle of the road, some doors to homes were standing open, not even an animal roamed the street. It’s like a scene in a movie when the main character realizes they are the last person left. Each building had a red X on it, usually on the door. Maybe a sign that this area had been cleared by Collectors, but who knew how long ago that was? Infected could have come back into the town since then. Spikes and sandbag walls surrounded a few of the community buildings. The sandbags were stacked higher than she was tall, and in front of the courthouse an old cannon sat near a pile of homemade cannonballs. Some spikes had skeletons still impaled on them, probably Infected. There were burn piles around town full of ash and charred bone. The Fighting Bears had put up one hell of a fight when the shit hit the fan. Allison hoped they had won, but considering the emptiness of the town now, it had probably fallen in the very start of the outbreak.

  Allison took her time and slowly drove down every street, sometimes twice, looking for something familiar from her flashback. After an hour of searching the little town she realized it was not where she had attacked the family. She marked it off her list and headed back to the main road out of town.

  The next town was only a ten-minute drive away. She consulted her map and her notes from Dave and Sandra as she drove, double checking that she was going the correct way. She glanced in her rear-view mirror out of habit and in the distance saw a black vehicle behind her. Is that the same truck? No, they left the rest area before me, so they wouldn’t be behind me now, right? Sweat rimmed her brow and her chest tightened. Allison made a mental note to check her surroundings better. The next town was also abandoned and also a bust. Allison recognized nothing there.