Point Of Profusion: A Post-Apocalyptic Epidemic Survival (The Morgan Strain Series Book 5)

by Max Lockwood

  “Ew,” Bobby Dean said, a look of disgust on his face. “Come on. Are you sure you aren’t bullshitting me? Is this story supposed to put me in my place for calling you out on your lies?”

  She solemnly shook her head. “I wish I could say I was kidding. But I was essentially being groomed for slaughter.”

  Bethany felt sick just thinking about it. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips as she tried to shake the icky feeling that plagued her. She thought she might feel a little better if she talked about her traumatic journey, but in the short term, it was making her feel physically ill. She began to tremble and Bobby Dean pulled of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Bethany pulled her arms through the sleeves, thankful that Bobby Dean cared about her enough to make her feel a little better.

  Her throat felt dry and she wished she had some water. She wanted to stop talking. She didn’t really owe Bobby Dean anything. But she hoped that if she could purge herself of the information she knew, she would be able to close her eyes without seeing the horrors of her past.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bethany blinked a few times, just to make sure she wasn’t in the middle of some bizarre dream. Dr. Adler smiled kindly at her, as if she hadn’t revealed a horrifying plan for her underground bunker. Bethany took a long sip from the glass of the water in front of her, her mouth suddenly too dry to talk.

  “I don’t understand,” Bethany replied. “When I arrived, you told me that we were going to be close. You’ve treated me so well here. Do you want me to be a part of this?”

  Dr. Adler nodded. “That’s right. You look a little confused,” she said, tapping a perfectly manicured talon on the glass desk.

  “I am,” Bethany replied. “You said you were a doctor. If you have a medical degree, then I don’t understand why you’re dealing in—”

  Bethany stopped herself before the word “pseudoscience” fell from her mouth.

  “Yes, I’ve heard this criticism before. People are so unwilling to believe anything that isn’t in the mainstream. When it comes to medicine, people get so hung up on pharmaceuticals. I have a degree in Holistic Medicine and I’ve studied different medical techniques from around the globe. When you catch a cold, I suppose you take loads of medicine to make you feel better, right?”

  “Yeah,” Bethany said, her voice wavering.

  “Why? It can’t cure a cold. You’re ingesting chemicals you don’t even know the names of. We consume so many unnatural things just because the labels on the boxes tell us we need it. We don’t look to see what nature has provided us. I can make a tea with different plants and herbs that can relieve symptoms for just about any illness. I can use different types of massages and acupuncture to cure many ailments. People don’t try these healthier, natural alternatives because modern medicine has vilified our study.”

  Bethany was getting the feeling that there was something wrong with this woman’s logic. But she seemed so ingrained in her particular way of thinking that there was no way Bethany could convince her otherwise.

  It wasn’t as if Bethany was completely against traditional medicine. While she didn’t eschew modern medicine when the situation called for it, she had many older relatives who went to traditional healers to get their chi balanced. Her grandmother used to tell Bethany that her medical practitioner from back home mixed powders that, when added to water and drunk, cured all of the aches and pains in her body. Bethany didn’t necessarily believe that the mystery potions cured her grandmother’s arthritis and brittle bones, but her grandmother felt good, and that was what mattered. She would never pick a fight over these beliefs, but only when no one got hurt in the process.

  “I understand where you’re coming from, but why do you need blood? Why can’t you use animal blood?”

  Dr. Adler pursed her maroon lips. “It’s not as crazy as you think. Human blood had been used in beauty regimens for a long time. Blood is our life force. It delivers oxygen and nutrients to our cells to keep us alive. It can nourish new life before a mother gives birth. Have you heard of blood facials before?”

  Bethany shook her head. She didn’t have a disposable income that allowed her to spend a small fortune on esthetics.

  “It’s a fairly common procedure. The doctor simply draws a few milliliters of blood from the patient’s arm. Then, it is mixed with oxygen and applied to the face. Sometimes, we can even apply special lights that help the skin absorb the nutrients. The procedure makes skin appear more youthful, when done regularly. When the procedure was first created, it gave people pause, but it’s now become fairly commonplace. No one bats an eye when they see pictures of someone having the facial done. It’s as normal as Botox.”

  Bethany wasn’t convinced. She had heard of people having their faces injected with all sorts of things, but she never personally knew anyone who chose to have their blood removed, only to be slathered back onto their face.

  “Do you know about Elizabeth Bathory?” Dr. Adler asked, becoming more excited.

  “I don’t think so, no,” Bethany responded.

  “She was Hungarian noble who was vilified in folklore but really ahead of her time when it came to innovations in beauty. She regularly took blood baths. If you look at the portraits done of her, it seems to have made a difference.”

  Bethany’s face contorted into a grimace. “Wait, are you talking about the serial killer? Isn’t she the monster who killed little girls and swam around in their blood?”

  Dr. Adler frowned. “You’ve heard the slanderous folklore. I like to think of her as a pioneer in our field. She used virgin blood, though I don’t think it’s necessary to be that picky. What matters is that the individual used is young and beautiful. Now, in our particular predicament, it’s also important for the girl to be immune to the virus.”

  Bethany began to break out in a cold sweat. She took a sip of her water as she looked around the office. Upon closer inspection, she noticed several books on the shelves about Hungarian nobility. The doctor was clearly a fan of the most notorious female serial killer. Along with the books, mirrors sat on just about every surface. Large ornately-framed mirrors hung on the walls of the subterranean office, while small highly-magnified mirrors rested on the bookshelf and desk. Even as she spoke, Dr. Adler frequently broke eye contact, just to catch a glimpse of her face, as if she needed to see how her expressions reflected on her appearance. Expensive-looking creams and serums sat open on the desk, ready for use at a moment’s notice.

  Bethany chewed at a hangnail as an unsettling feeling in her stomach took over her whole body. Dr. Adler reached across the desk and grabbed her hand.

  “Don’t do that,” she scolded, reaching for a dollop of cream to massage into Bethany’s cuticle. “You must never pick at your skin,” she chided. “Not only will you leave unsightly marks, but you risk opening your body up to infections of all different kinds. Especially in this day and age, it’s detrimental to your health to do something to taint your pure blood.”

  Bethany pulled her hand away from the doctor, wiping the remaining cream onto her smock. “What did you find out from my blood test? It’s been weeks. I thought I would have heard something by now.”

  Dr. Adler opened up a drawer and carefully thumbed through the files with the tips of her long, lacquered fingernails. She pulled out a file with Bethany’s name on it and set it in the middle of the desk.

  “Let’s see here,” she hummed. “First of all, your Morgan Strain test came back negative. Of course, I’m sure you already knew that. We’ve also developed a test in our secure laboratory to see if a person is virus-resistant or not. I’m pleased to report to you that you passed. We are ninety percent certain that you are immune to the virus. It’s quite rare. So far, we’ve found that it only occurs in women. It’s quite remarkable.”

  Bethany blinked a few times. The asterisk in Dr. Vincent’s files made a little more sense now. He must have known that her bloodwork was unusual. She didn’t know what that would have meant for his plans, had
he lived to carry them out, but he must have had an idea that she was different from the other women in the camp.

  At first, hearing this pleased Bethany immensely. She had been so careful not to come into contact with any Infected, but now she knew that she had a little protection going for her. Of course, the dangers of the outside world went beyond physical illness, but she felt a tiny bit of relief to know that an errant bite wouldn’t be the death of her.

  Then, she realized the implications of the test. If Dr. Adler needed her special blood for her skincare regimen, then she wouldn’t be leaving the bunker anytime soon.

  “It’s exciting news, isn’t it?” Dr. Adler beamed. “You’re part of an elite group of people who are destined to survive the worst epidemic this country has ever seen. I can’t help but be envious of you—you’re young, beautiful, and healthy. Incidentally, I’ve found that the immune women I’ve met are all quite lovely in the looks department. It must be the genetics.”

  “I don’t have any idea why I’m immune,” Bethany sputtered, feeling flustered. “I didn’t do anything to be this way. I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Blood,” Dr. Adler said simply. “That’s the answer to it all.”

  The more she spoke about blood and immunity, the bigger her smile got. She also talked faster and faster with each new revelation until she was speaking so maniacally that Bethany could hardly catch all of the words. The makeup around her eyes made them appear to bug out even more. Tiny red veins snaked through the whites of her eyes, accentuated by her spidery lashes coated thick with mascara.

  “Don’t you see?” she continued. “I know that you’re special because of your blood test. The reason you’re so youthful-looking and pretty is because of the blood passed down from your ancestors. You’re unique because your blood is different from everyone else’s blood. That’s why it’s so important that you’re here. I need your blood.”

  Bethany scooted back in her chair. “That’s absurd. I don’t think you want me. What if I have some sort of genetic disorder that I don’t know about? It doesn’t seem safe.”

  “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “You’re going to spread my blood on your face?”

  Dr. Adler giggled, shaking her head. “Youth isn’t limited to the face, my dear. Gravity wreaks havoc on our bodies, you know. Time isn’t kind to women. With any luck, I’ll have the body of a woman half my age before long. I’ve been avoiding all of the lifts and tucks for quite some time now, hoping that I’d have the opportunity to put my theories into practice. I’m happy to report that it’s finally time.”

  Bethany began to shake. She could hear people outside the door. Were they there to prevent her from running? How could she convince Dr. Adler that her blood wasn’t worth the trouble of draining from her?

  “It can’t be safe to bathe in blood,” Bethany said. “There could be pathogens in there that you haven’t tested for.”

  “Silly girl. Do you know those baths that everyone has been soaking in? I’ve added a blood plasma solution to them, harvested from the women who aren’t immune but are still young and beautiful. How has your skin felt after the baths? Softer and more elastic?”

  This was too much for Bethany to take. She tried not to gag as she thought of all the times she sat in those tubs, even splashing a little bit of the water onto her face. All along, someone was giving large quantities of blood, just to extract the clear plasma for the pools. Bethany had to leave immediately.

  She went to stand, but her legs felt weak. She wasn’t one to faint easily, but she was so startled that she reasoned that her horror was the cause of her sudden weakness. She had to brace herself against Dr. Adler’s desk to keep from toppling over.

  “I think you should sit down,” Dr. Adler said gently.

  “No, I have to go,” Bethany slurred. “I can’t be here. It’s not safe.”

  “Oh, it’s perfectly okay, Bethany,” the doctor said soothingly. “You won’t even notice it when it’s happening. It will be quick and painless.”

  “I don’t feel good,” Bethany said, falling to her knees. She tried to crawl toward the door, but that seemed to take more effort than she had energy for.

  “No, I’m not surprised,” Dr. Adler said casually as she watched Bethany’s struggles from her desk. She pulled a crystal nail file from a pencil holder and shaped her pointy nails.

  “What did you do to me?” Bethany shouted. Every time she closed her eyes, the room started to spin.

  “I just added a sedative to your water. The cucumber tends to mask the slightly bitter taste of the drug. If you just relax, the effect can be quite pleasant. If you like, I can have my assistants put you in a bed now, so we can get the procedure started. Unfortunately, we’re in short supply of donors, and I’m becoming quite impatient. We’ve tried to build up a healthy blood volume in you during the past few weeks. Still, it’s just not enough. You’re going to be making a total contribution.”

  Bethany’s head bobbed. Part of her wanted to escape, but the other part wanted to succumb to the drug. She was too tired to fight.

  With one last attempt, Bethany used all the strength she could muster to stand back up to her feet. She charged the door and wrenched the handle, running past the surprised guards. Her legs shook with every step, but she kept her eyes locked on the stairwell. She just had to make it up two flights of stairs and open the hatch. Then, she would be free.

  Bethany only made it about ten feet into the hallway before she collapsed into the arms of the guards. They picked her up and carried her back to the office, gently placing her in the chair across from Dr. Adler.

  She peered over the desk, clicking her tongue as she looked at the state Bethany was in. She now had red marks on her knees from when she fell on the floor and her eyes were bloodshot from the effort it took to keep them open.

  “It’s time, Bethany,” Dr. Adler said. “The sooner we get this done, the better it is for everyone involved. I want you to know that I appreciate your cooperation over the past few weeks. It’s been a pleasure having you.”

  Bethany ground her teeth. She didn’t want Dr. Adler to think for a moment that she was willing and complicit while she was lodged in her facilities. She’d tried to find a way out whenever possible, but the building was so disorienting and there were so many guards.

  “You’re a crazy bitch,” Bethany whispered as she fought to stay awake. “I hope you get infected and rot.”

  “Sleep now,” Dr. Adler said gently, getting up from her seat. “It’s time.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bethany started to shiver, so Bobby Dean placed his arm around her, giving her a gentle shake. She snapped out of her trance, meeting his disturbed gaze.

  “What?” she asked, confused by his expression.

  “You’re freaking me out,” he said. “It was like you left your body for a second.”

  She blinked hard, the image of the bunker dissolving into the school boiler room. She was always confined by locked doors, it seemed.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, shrugging off his half-embrace. “Where was I?”

  Bobby Dean frowned, folding his hands back on his lap. “You were whispering something about how that doctor was a crazy bitch.”

  She nodded. “Right. So, the drugs really messed me up, as they were intended to. I passed out in her office and woke up some time later, strapped to a gurney. Someone was shaking my shoulder, just like you were a moment ago. I thought I’d wake up to see that crazy woman slicing my jugular for a nice little bath, but instead, I saw a woman who was closer to my age.”

  “Samantha?” he asked.

  “That’s how she introduced herself. She took off the restraints and told me that we had to run before her mom woke up. I didn’t know what any of it meant, but I did what she said. She was a really pretty girl, with curly red hair and bright green eyes. I figured she was at risk for being made into cosmetics too.”

  Bethany played with the buttons on Bobby Dean’s jac
ket, struggling to remember exactly how everything went. The sedatives had carved gaps in her memory, and some events seemed more like a dream than reality.

  “She basically dragged me through what looked like an operating room. There were dead bodies all over the place. Guards were slashed to bits. I got scared and tried to go back, but Samantha kept screaming at me to keep going. It’s a good thing she did, or I would have been caught. I saw the doctor, unconscious on the floor. She didn’t look injured like the others, though. The adrenaline of being chased must have helped me come to my senses. Eventually, I was able to run on my own. I felt like hell, but I could put one foot in front of the other. We climbed up the ladder and made it outside. Samantha knew the code for the lock on the door. We ran for a little while longer, but there was no need. No one was chasing us by the time we got outside. She led me into the woods where I was originally snatched from, and we continued walking. It was then that I realized that she was absolutely covered in blood. It didn’t seem to bother her, though.”

  “Was that the last you saw of her—somewhere around Colorado?”

  She shook her head. “We traveled together for a short while. I was still pretty badly rattled after everything that happened in the bunker. It helped to have another person around to confirm that the sounds I heard were part of my imagination and not real danger. On the other hand, it helped to have someone who could help me deal with the real danger. Still, it got to the point where I didn’t want her killing off the Infected for me.”

  “Why?” he asked. “If she was good at it, she seems like a pretty good travel partner.”

  “You don’t understand. I can kill, but only when it’s necessary. I mean, it has to be absolutely necessary to my survival, do you get what I’m saying?”

  “Are you saying she killed innocent people with you?”

  Bethany shrugged. “It gets messy when you try to decide who is innocent and who isn’t. There’s often a gray area. For example, what do you do if you see someone in the distance and you’re not sure if they’re going to hurt you or not?”