HOT ZONE: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 1)

by Steven Konkoly

  “Great,” said Larsen before abruptly shifting his rifle to the right. “Contact. Ahead and across the street. Just past the Mexican restaurant. I saw some movement in the parking lot. Back me up, Chang. Everyone else, watch the buildings next to us.”

  Chang aimed his rifle in the direction of the red, one-story restaurant. Beyond the corner of the patio, he spotted why Larsen was alarmed.

  “Looks like more than one person,” said Chang.

  “I count three,” said Larsen. “They don’t attack in mobs, right?”

  Up until now, all of the attacks had been perpetrated by lone assailants, which made sense given the virus’s neurological impact. The impulsive, violent behavior associated with temporal lobe deterioration was individualistic, directed at whatever and whoever caught the infected victim’s attention.

  At least that was what the limited scientific observation of diseases that target the temporal lobe had indicated. Limited being the operative term. Most cases occurred in single patients that never came in contact with other similarly affected patients. There was no telling what might happen if victims of low-level deterioration merged.

  “I don’t know,” said Chang. “We’ve killed more temporal-lobe-deranged patients in the past five minutes than the entire international medical community sees in any given year. Anything is possible at this point.”

  “If I see a weapon, we’re taking them down,” said Larsen.

  “I can’t find any fault with that logic,” said Chang.

  He looked through his rifle’s holographic sight for the first time, finding a bright red circle with a dot in the middle. The image looked fuzzy until he lined his eye up directly behind the sight. The circle and red dot appeared superimposed against the white patio spindles. Dark figures shifted beyond the wooden deck. A moment later they were gone.

  “Three targets inbound,” said Larsen, a single crack filling the air. “One down. The rest are yours, Chang.”

  “What?”

  Chang lowered the rifle a few inches and looked past the barrel. Two men sprinted in their direction, one carrying a machete, the other an aluminum baseball bat. He pulled the trigger without aiming, the rifle biting into his shoulder and having no effect on the attackers.

  “Chang?” said Larsen.

  He pulled the trigger three times, seeing one of them jerk sideways—but they kept coming.

  “Are you using the sight?” said Larsen.

  “No,” said Chang, firing again to no effect.

  “Center each target in the middle of the red circle and slowly press the trigger.”

  Chang raised the rifle level with his face, finding the red circle again. Both of the men appeared in the sight, and he shifted the rifle gently to bring one of them into the circle. He pulled the trigger twice, lowering the rifle to see what happened. One of the men had tumbled to the street, his steel machete clattering against the asphalt.

  “Slowly press the trigger,” said Larsen, firing a single shot that flattened the downed man as he tried to get up. “You were lucky to hit him at all.”

  “This is your job,” hissed Chang.

  “Not anymore,” said Larsen. “If we’re going to survive, we all need to be able to do this.”

  Chang wanted to argue, but the man holding the baseball bat was closing fast. He placed the dot in the middle of the attacker and eased the trigger back, surprised when the rifle dug into his shoulder.

  “Perfect,” said Larsen. “Center mass. Dropped him like a stone.”

  When Chang lowered the rifle, he found the man with the baseball bat motionless on the street.

  “Don’t make me do that again,” said Chang.

  “You passed the test. I’ll take it from here,” said Larsen, firing a single shot from his rifle.

  A woman stumbled into the open next to the restaurant, grasping her stomach. A second bullet spun her to the parking lot pavement, a rifle skidding along the ground.

  “It appears they are capable of attacking en masse,” said Larsen. “And covering their approach. Thankfully, she was a little slow on the draw.”

  The implication was both groundbreaking and devastating. The infected population was not only capable of cooperating in groups, but of higher level functioning. They needed to get safely inside the campus immediately.

  “Can you move faster?” said Chang.

  “Don’t worry about me,” replied Larsen.

  “Then I suggest we pick up the pace.”

  “Music to my ears,” said Larsen, immediately pulling ahead.

  Chang turned his head. “We’re picking up the pace.”

  They passed a side street before they reached the passenger gate, spotting a sizable mob a few buildings down. The mob started toward them immediately, screaming and yelling. Larsen’s rifle barked several times, dropping the front row of the horde.

  “David, take Chang and the group to the entrance. Joshua, stay with me. We need to buy the group some time.”

  “I want my son with me,” said David.

  “I need someone who can shoot,” said Larsen. “I’ll keep him safe. Get moving.”

  David hesitated next to Chang.

  “No time to argue. Go!” said Larsen.

  The police officer grabbed Chang’s arm and pulled him toward the pedestrian entrance.

  “Fast. Let’s go!” he yelled.

  Chang ran toward the turnstile gate with David and the Harpers while Larsen and Joshua fired bullet after bullet into the approaching pack. Rapid gunfire erupted from the mob, clanging off the iron fence around him.

  “Get that door open, Chang!” yelled Larsen.

  When they reached the turnstile, David raced toward the street, rapidly firing his rifle in the direction of the approaching horde. Chang dug through his pockets, suddenly realizing that he’d stuffed his ID in his backpack, which sat in a cornfield twenty-five miles away. Shit. He’d fucked up big time.

  “I don’t have my ID,” said Chang.

  “What?” said Jack.

  “I left my ID in my backpack,” said Chang.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” said Jack.

  “What’s the holdup?” said David.

  Chang looked beyond the Harpers at Larsen and Joshua. The two of them fired nonstop at the approaching crowd, which had thinned considerably. Several bodies lay in the street, which didn’t seem like enough to explain the sudden thinning.

  “I can’t get us through the door,” said Chang. “My ID is back at the airport.”

  David didn’t respond. Two men burst into the open behind the building directly across the street from the gate. David tracked them with his rifle for a moment before they ducked out of sight. He turned to Chang with a panicky look.

  “Please tell me you didn’t say you left your ID back at the airport,” he said.

  Chang’s look must have said it all, because David immediately yelled to Larsen, “Chang can’t get us in. What’s plan B?”

  Larsen patted Joshua on the shoulder and ran as fast as his leg would allow to the gate. When he arrived a few moments later, he cornered Chang. “Isn’t there some kind of passcode?”

  “You have to swipe your ID,” said Chang.

  The Olsons’ rifles cracked repeatedly behind them.

  “Something’s brewing!” said David. “You better figure something out quick.”

  “Damn it, Chang,” said Larsen, unsnapping the pouch that previously held his tablet. He removed a small package that was immediately recognizable as a plastic explosives device.

  “If I blow this open, it stays open,” said Larsen.

  A bullet snapped overhead, striking the thick metal turn-bars, followed by another that glanced off Larsen’s helmet—who barely acknowledged it.

  “They’re firing from the windows!” said David.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Chang.

  A sharp pain creased the back of his right shoulder, causing him to stiffen.

  “I think I’m hit,” muttere
d Chang, surprised he hadn’t screamed.

  “You’re fine,” said Larsen, bullets ricocheting off the sidewalk next to him.

  “Fuck it. This is getting out of control,” said Larsen. “I’m blowing this thing open.”

  Emma Harper pushed Chang out of the way, holding a card attached to a lanyard. “Try my ID.”

  “Hurry up,” said Larsen. “We’re running out of time.”

  She pressed the card against the reader and the digital display turned green.

  “Ha!” said Larsen. “Joshua! David! We got access. Compress your perimeter and suppress that gunfire until everyone is through.”

  Emma pushed through the turnstile and handed her card through the bars to Jack, who pressed it against the card reader. When the display turned red, Larsen exploded in a tirade of foul language. Chang knew what was wrong.

  “She has to come back through,” said Chang. “The system won’t allow another entry using that card until she exits. We’ll have to squeeze through two at a time!”

  Emma pushed through the turnstile, returning to the group.

  “I don’t think there’s room for two,” she said.

  Larsen examined the turnstile for a second. “One climbs the bars as high as possible and holds on. The other squats underneath and pushes,” said Larsen. “Jack and Emma first. Leave your rifles.”

  Emma pressed her card against the reader, enabling the entry point, before grabbing the second highest bar of the turnstile and lifting her legs. Jack squatted below her and waddled forward, pushing the bars. A few awkward seconds later, they made it to the other side. Larsen slid their rifles through the horizontal bars next to the gate.

  “Emma, repeat the process,” said Larsen, flinching as a bullet struck the fence next to his head.

  Emma came through again, this time taking Chang to the other side. He moved to the wrought-iron fence next to the gate, taking his rifle from Larsen. A bullet pinged off the metal in front of him, dropping him to the grass at the foot of the fence. He aimed his rifle through the thick horizontal bars, trying to find the source of gunfire. Something moved in one of the windows in the building across the street, attracting his attention. He pressed the trigger repeatedly, shattering the upper glass pane and splintering the wooden window frame.

  “Nice shooting, Chang!” said Larsen, turning to the street. “You guys watching this?”

  David backed up, pulling Joshua with him. “This is nuts. She’s doing every trip?”

  “She’s the smallest,” said Larsen.

  A bullet struck Joshua’s rifle, knocking it out of his hand. Before he could reach down to grab it, Larsen pulled him toward the turnstile.

  “Leave it,” said Larsen. “You’re next.”

  Chang kept firing until his rifle didn’t respond. He fumbled with one of the spare rifle magazines, unsure how to reload the rifle, while the police officer’s son and Emma got through the gate.

  “Chang, get everyone to the nearest building,” said Larsen.

  Chang turned and recognized his surroundings immediately. The Mexican restaurant, and Turkish restaurant next door to it, had been a once-a-week habit for years before he got serious about his weight. He’d rarely walked outside, preferring the climate-controlled campus buildings to the sweltering heat or raw cold. Chang set off for the nearest door, knowing it would put him in one of the wide-reaching access hallways that NevoTech employees used to range the campus.

  “Follow me!” he yelled before taking off.

  By the time he reached the door with Joshua, Larsen and David were halfway across the perfectly manicured grass, following the Harpers. Jack had gone back for his wife! Incredible. They were all incredible. When everyone arrived at the door, Emma pressed her card against the reader, admitting the group to the building. The heavy security door closed behind them, silencing the sporadic gunfire and yelling that had chased them inside. Chang was relieved to feel crisp, humidity-controlled air in the hallway. NevoTech’s systems were still fully functional. He put his back against one of the walls and slid to the floor, happy to stay right here for now.

  “Chang, you’re hit,” said David.

  A bright red streak of blood stretched down the wall behind him. He’d momentarily forgotten the wound, which began to sting again.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Larsen. “Nothing a little hemostatic powder can’t fix—for now.”

  Larsen limped across the tile floor, bracing himself against the wall next to Chang and digging through one of the pouches on his vest. His leg was bleeding heavily again.

  “Tell me about this ER doctor again,” said Larsen, pressing a compress against the wound with a bloodstained hand. “This is going to require a little more than hemostatic powder and gauze.”

  “How soon?” said Chang.

  “Not immediately,” said Larsen, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “After we get settled and figure out if this place is safe.”

  “My apartment is a quarter mile in that direction,” said Chang, pointing toward the street they had just left.

  “Through all of those crazies?” said David. “They seem capable of concentrating their efforts. We won’t get fifty feet.”

  “We could use a different gate,” said Chang. “My place is northwest of here. Not very far.”

  “What about the other teams out there?” said David.

  “They won’t be expecting us,” said Larsen. “And I know exactly how they operate. We’ll have to go soon, before they link what happened at Chang’s house with the airport escape.”

  “And what exactly happened at Chang’s house?” said David. “I don’t believe we got a full report.”

  “Larsen disobeyed a direct order to murder me,” said Chang. “One of his teammates had a problem with that, and—I can’t even.”

  He couldn’t continue. Larsen put a hand on his head, comforting him.

  “Three of the four members of my team were killed within the blink of an eye,” said Larsen. “I somehow came out of it unscathed. I don’t plan on wasting that.”

  David nodded, looking too tired to pursue Larsen’s story much further. “Any other secrets?”

  “I think that about covers it,” said Larsen.

  “I’m sorry about your team,” said David. “Nothing easy about losing teammates.”

  Larsen sank to one knee, leaning against the wall next to Chang. “It’s always a fucking waste.”

  “I don’t disagree,” said David.

  Chang pushed himself up to his feet.

  “Then that’s that,” said Chang. “We’ve made a pretty damn good team so far. We stand a way better chance of surviving together. Is everyone with me?”

  “Yeah,” said Emma, her husband nodding his agreement.

  “We’re with you,” said David, glancing at his son, who gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Then it’s settled. We’re a team,” said Chang. “First order of business is getting you some proper medical attention. The campus has an infirmary, but I think you need more than Band-Aids and ibuprofen.”

  “It’ll be a risky operation,” said Larsen. “The CHASE program is mostly comprised of clowns and poseurs, but they’re heavily armed poseurs.”

  “Can the two of us pull it off?” said David.

  “If there’s a back door,” said Larsen, turning to Chang. “Some kind of hidden approach.”

  “The parking garage attached to the apartment building would work,” said Chang. “I’d be willing to go with you. It’s a little tricky navigating from the garage to the building.”

  “Sounds like the beginnings of a plan,” said Larsen. “For now, I say we do a little exploring. Make sure this place is as secure as Dr. Chang thinks.”

  “Gene. Please call me Gene. Everyone,” he said, “I think you’ll find this place to be very secure. Like a vault.”

  “Well, it feels quiet enough. Almost quiet enough to consider hunkering down and waiting this out,” said Larsen.

  “I’d rather be on a plane
headed away from here,” said David.

  “I said almost. If that plane can fly come nightfall, we’re out of here,” said Larsen. “Gene, why don’t you lead the way. Unless Ms. Harper knows the campus better.”

  “I don’t work on campus. The financial buildings are a few blocks away,” said Emma. “That’s why I didn’t offer my ID sooner.”

  “I’m starting to believe we’ve been put together for a reason,” said Larsen.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” said Chang.

  “I was actually kidding,” said Larsen, grinning. “But I’ll take what the fates throw me at this point. Even a ragtag team like this.”

  They all shared a light moment, briefly laughing at Larsen’s wry comment. Chang was hopeful for this group and their situation. They just needed to survive the day and get the plane back in the air. He’d head south, as low as possible, until they were well clear of the quarantine zone, before turning toward the Indiana-Illinois border, where he’d find a quiet place to land to figure out his next step. The team’s next step.

  THE END

  KILL BOX, Book 2 in THE ZULU VIRUS CHRONICLES, will be released in the fall of 2017. To be among the first to be notified of KILL BOX’s release, please follow this link to join my mailing list. Periodically, you’ll receive exclusive news, content and discounts regarding my work.

  UNTIL THEN, if you haven’t read my very first novel, THE JAKARTA PANDEMIC, I think you’ll enjoy circling back to this story. It’s an intense thriller about a lethal pandemic outbreak—told from a street level perspective. Six years after its release, THE JAKARTA PANDEMIC remains my most popular and widely read novel.

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  Work by Steven Konkoly

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