Spore Series | Book 2 | Choke

by Soward, Kenny

  CHOKE

  SPORE Series

  Book 2

  By

  Kenny Soward

  Mike Kraus

  © 2020 Muonic Press Inc

  www.muonic.com

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  www.kennysoward.com

  kenny@kennysoward.com

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  www.MikeKrausBooks.com

  hello@mikeKrausBooks.com

  www.facebook.com/MikeKrausBooks

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without the permission in writing from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

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  Special Thanks

  Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.

  Thank you!

  SPORE Book 3

  Available Here

  Preface

  Last time on SPORE…

  CDC field agent Kim Shields showed up in Washington DC to meet with her assistant and discuss their recent job relocation from Fort Collins, Colorado. She made the meeting, though not before noticing several Durant-Monroe Chemical Company employees in the area. As she and her assistant reviewed the latest developments pertaining to virus outbreaks across the United States, Kim spotted one of the restaurant employees coughing violently while serving a customer. She tried to help the man but backed off when he coughed up pink mucus with black spots. A moment later, their waitress ran from the kitchen area amidst a strange black cloud, coughing and choking before she collapsed onto the floor and died. Kim and her assistant ran from the restaurant. When they looked up at the sky, they saw dark tendrils of black dust twisting through the air and descending on unsuspecting bystanders. Anyone who breathed the dust fell into violent coughing fits before they died.

  Kim and her assistant ran to her car where she kept her emergency equipment. After putting on air filtration masks, an infected person struck her assistant with their car. Alone and terrified, Kim suspected the black dust was an outbreak, and she had to get to the CDC headquarters to assist emergency workers. After fighting desperate people through contaminated city streets, she made it to the headquarters where Dr. Tom Flannery awaited her. Forced into quarantine with a computer system at her disposal, she remotely assisted the doctor in creating antifungal formulas to combat what they understood to be a fungal outbreak.

  With the help of the US military and other CDC field agents, Kim secured a little girl named Fiona whose family had died from the fungal infection, dubbed Asphyxia. Fiona showed no outward symptoms of being infected, even though she had breathed infected air without a filtration mask. She lost contact with the CDC field unit before Fiona could be brought in. As a backup plan, General Miller of the US military forced the CEO of Durant Monroe Chemicals, Burke Birkenhoff, to assist the CDC team to find out why their new product, Harvest Guard, caused such a violent fungal mutation.

  With spore clouds blowing through major cities with a ninety percent fatality rate, power and communication failing by the minute, and a CEO whose armed guards would protect their master at any cost, Kim began to lose hope. Only through sheer determination and quick thinking did she keep Burke from destroying their work and killing off mankind’s last chance to survive. Escaping from the burning wreckage of the Washington DC branch, Kim drove away in a high-tech RV along with its Automated Management Interface (AMI) in hopes of developing a cure.

  Truck driver, Moe Tsosie, got caught in a spore cloud outside of Bakersfield, California. He escaped the toxic mold only to find patches of growth on his skin. He stopped to disinfect himself and wash his truck, discovering the mold’s strength and resiliency.

  As Moe continued to Flagstaff Arizona, people sped past with their lives thrown into their back seats. Their vehicles trailed clusters of fungi and spores, and many appeared stricken with a less aggressive form of the infection. Ten miles outside of Flagstaff, he came upon a minor accident where the drivers were arguing on the side of the road. He pulled over and got out, hoping to help for the sake of the kids involved in the wreck. While the crashed drivers argued, another infected driver plowed into the wrecked cars, and the collision killed the children’s mother. After fighting two people off his truck, Moe took custody of the orphaned children and continued onto Flagstaff.

  In Flagstaff, he joined thousands in a massive traffic jam caused by a roadblock ahead. Moe spoke with another truck driver named Wildcat to learn the local authorities and US military were barring people from traveling east. Along with a sizable ground force, they’d placed two military vehicles with mounted guns on both sides of the expressway.

  Moe turned the children over to the authorities and waited for traffic to clear. After a day of growing unrest, armed citizens confronted the authorities and engaged in a shootout that left hundreds dead. In the chaos, vehicles pushed through the roadblock as the citizens took control of the armored vehicles and fired on nearby authorities. Moe’s truck driver friend, Wildcat, perished in the shootout, but he broke free and continued on to his home in Chinle, Arizona.

  With traffic packed in at Holbrook, Moe turned his rig around and made for an old watering hole called Coyote’s near the Jack Rabbit Trading Post off of I-40. The bartender, his long-time friend, Rocko, welcomed him, and for the next two days they sipped beer, cooked out, and watched the world burn around them. Chaos caught up to them when armed bandits laid siege to Coyote’s. Moe, Rocko, and another truck driver named Lane, held off the bandits, but not without a cost. Rocko was shot and killed. Moe burned Coyote’s to the ground to honor Rocko’s last request and continued on to Chinle. Once home, he pulled into a Denny’s and sipped coffee with the town regulars as they watched news of the spore clouds ravaging western cities like Ft. Worth, Denver, and Albuquerque. Moe wondered if his desert hometown would survive the encroaching infection.

  The red-haired twins, Randy and Jenny Tucker, watched their parents spray their crops with Harvest Guard when the black spore tendrils rose from every field around them and engulfed Center Townshi
p, Indiana. After their mother and father died from breathing in the spore tendrils, the twins dove into the cab of a pickup truck and closed all the vents before the spore tendrils reached them. They stayed in there for hours before creating impromptu gas masks from plastic grocery bags, duct tape, and pieces of foam. They noticed the spores seemed heavy and sunk to the ground without the wind to stir them up. Randy and his sister exited the truck carefully to avoid agitating the fungus and found two high-grade air filtration masks in their shed.

  The twins built makeshift decontamination rooms in their house with plastic tarps, duct tape, HEPA air filtration units, and plenty of bleach and disinfectant. Using their home as a base of operations, Randy and Jenny drove around the town of Kentland, Indiana searching for survivors and mourning the dead. The twins took on a big job running supplies to Sheriff Stans and his police officers, who were keeping watch over the surviving prisoners at the Newton County jail. The sheriff and his officers were tired, and Randy wondered how long they could keep it up. His uneasiness was justified after he and Jenny helped feed the prisoners one day and discovered two of the cellblocks had been shut down because of the contagion. The last remaining cellblock held a hostile population led by a prisoner named Krumer.

  Things went downhill for the twins after they discovered someone murdered one of their infected friends, Ally. They returned to the Newton County jail and found that the inmates had taken over and that Krumer had locked everyone inside the jail. After beating Krumer in a violent battle, the twins returned home to find a man vandalizing their decontamination area and home. Randy, pushed beyond his breaking point, shot the man dead.

  After rescuing the miracle child, Fiona, from an infected apartment filled with the corpses of her family, CDC field agent Jessie Talby vowed to deliver her to Kim Shields at the CDC facility in Washington DC. While in route, their helicopter crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania. They pulled the injured pilot from the crash and transported him to a farmhouse using a riding lawn mower and a small trailer. Patching up the injured man as best she could, Jessie settled in with Fiona to see if he would live. A day and a half later, the pilot died, and she cursed herself for not going straight to the CDC facility in Washington. She acquired a newer model SUV that would help them get there. Jessie and Fiona left the dead pilot in the farmhouse and headed for Washington, arriving just after the CDC facility went up in flames. Kim Shields was nowhere to be found. At the end of her rope, Jessie relied on Fiona’s hopeful words to recommit herself to locating Kim Shields and finding a cure for the fatal fungus.

  Bishop Shields, Kim’s husband, wondered if he and their two children, Riley and Trevor, would be okay. It seemed impossible that the spore clouds would travel so far west to their home in the suburbs of Ft. Collins, Colorado. However, his wife provided him with instructions on what to do in the event Fort Collins became contaminated. Bishop, a former college football player turned writer, prepared for the worst. He picked up supplies at the local hardware store and grocer and returned home. He put the children to work sealing all three floors of their home, using duct tape, plastic tarps, caulking, and other sealants.

  It soon became apparent a spore cloud would hit Fort Collins, and Bishop decided it might be worth moving to the FEMA camp at Colorado State University. He wanted to send a message to Kim through the military contacts there.

  After parking a few blocks away, Bishop led the kids wearing their backpacks down to the stadium. He grew uncomfortable with the amount of people gathering. There were tens of thousands of them, and, looking east, he spotted a curtain of dark spores heading their way. He made the children put on their air filtration masks and turned them back toward their SUV. People began choking and dying as hysteria turned the crowd into a mob. Bishop fought several people trying to steal their air filtration masks, using brute strength to knock them aside, calling out the warrior inside him that had been dormant for over a decade.

  The screams and choking ended, and the city grew quiet. They were the last people left alive out of the tens of thousands who’d been walking to the stadium. Driving home, Bishop wondered how long they could survive with such a merciless contamination in the air.

  And now, SPORE Book 2.

  Chapter 1

  Kim Shields, Washington, D.C.

  Kim drove the bus south through Washington DC, hopping on I-395 west and crossing the Potomac River. She spotted the exit signs for the Ronald Reagan National Airport but stopped before taking the loop that would put her on George Washington Memorial Parkway.

  The airport terminal glowed with light, and four helicopters buzzed across the tarmac along with two dozen military vehicles. She leaned over the wheel and sighed. Her heart told her to keep driving to Yellow Springs, though Lieutenant Colonel Bryant’s injuries needed attention.

  “AMI, can you patch me in to General Miller, please?”

  “I’m in contact with the military switchboard now,” AMI said.

  “Thanks.”

  After a pause, a rough voice came on the line. “This is General Miller. You say this is Kim Shields?”

  “That’s right, General.”

  “We lost contact with your facility,” Miller said, “but I’m glad to hear you’re safe. Where’s Dr. Flannery?”

  “Flannery didn’t make it.” Kim turned her eyes forward. She launched into the story of what happened at the CDC facility. After General Miller had given the order to hold Burke, the CEO had declared war, hacking their communication systems and setting his goons loose to murder everyone. Then they’d shot Tom and set fire to the facility after wounding Bryant.

  General Miller sighed. “I’m sorry to hear about Tom. He was an honorable man. I’ll get a chopper in the air to look for Burke with a direct order to put a missile up his backside. I should have gotten some soldiers to you sooner. I’m sorry about that, Mrs. Shields.”

  Kim shook her head as a tear streaked down her face. “The soldiers you sent did their best.”

  “So, come on in. We’ll get Bryant taken care of, and you can settle in with the rest of the doctors and nurses.”

  “I don’t think so, General.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t plan on staying,” Kim said. “I’m going straight to Ohio.”

  “What’s in Ohio?”

  Kim briefed the general about her last conversation with Tom. She told him about the famed mycologist, Paul Henderson, though she didn’t give up his location. “Tom thought Paul could help us find a cure for Asphyxia. He said the man has a lab that rivals anything the CDC ever built, and he knows exotic fungi better than anyone in the world.”

  “That sounds promising,” the general said before he pulled a doubtful face. “But I’ll have to deny your request to go to Ohio. You’ll be more useful here with us.”

  “It wasn’t a request,” Kim said, lips pressed firm.

  “Regardless, bring in Lieutenant Colonel Bryant along with any government property you have. Please acknowledge.”

  Kim stood and turned in one motion to enter the bus’s lounge area. It held two bucket seats with three roll-out cots and a kitchenette. A combination bathroom and shower nestled against the left side. Two strides carried Kim across that section and through a sliding door into the lab.

  The lab had a single computer with three monitors mounted on the far wall. On the left was an advanced microscope, a centrifuge, specimen containers, blood culture instruments, and automated hematology analyzers with closed tube systems. The space was big enough for two people to work side-by-side.

  Kim stepped through a door on her right and walked down a small short hallway. The walls were clear acrylic glass with small monitors mounted on each side. Behind the glass were huge vats of decontamination chemicals stacked up.

  “Mrs. Shields,” the general’s voice came through the overhead speakers. “Please acknowledge the order to proceed to the airport terminal.”

  “Give me a second,” Kim said. “I’m having some communication probl
ems.”

  At the end of the hall, she entered the prep room which held rubber gloves, tape, respirators, and a double-sided cabinet where five high-grade protective suits hung. She put on a simple face respirator and glanced at the status light on the decontamination chamber door. As long as the light glowed green, Kim could move to the next room. Contaminated rooms would remain locked until AMI deemed them safe, though she could use her override code.

  “Hello, Kim,” AMI’s pleasant tone spoke clear and crisp. “The air quality in the prep room and decontamination room are one hundred percent optimal. There is no sign of contamination anywhere on the Mobile Unit XI.”

  Kim found a communication terminal on the wall and hit the mute button.

  “Thanks,” Kim said. The door opened and Kim stepped through.

  Bryant rested against the wall where she’d left him in his bulky protective suit. She stepped over and checked his suit’s oxygen level and breathing. The soldier opened his eyes.

  “All right,” Kim said, putting one arm beneath him to get him to rise. “Time to go.”

  “Are we there?” Bryant asked.

  He got to his feet and leaned heavily on Kim, and she winced as the wound on her side stretched and ached. Pauline had shot her in the side, and the round had torn though some muscle before ricocheting off her ribs. Painful, but manageable.

  “Yeah, we’re there.” Kim guided him down the thin stairwell, using the walls to provide leverage. “Please open the back door.”

  The back door clicked and slid open with a hiss. Once out of the bus, Kim walked Bryant to the shoulder of the road and helped him sit down with his back against the guardrail.

  “Hey, we’re not there,” Bryant said with a glance around.