Omega Virus (Book 2): Gamma Hour

by Strife, Jake A.

  OMEGA VIRUS

  2

  GAMMA HOUR

  Jake A. Strife

  OMEGA VIRUS: GAMMA HOUR

  www.JakeAStrife.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Jason Norby

  Cover Design © 2018 by Misty Norby

  Cover Art © MLV MEDIA

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my beautiful baby girl. May you grow up with the love of reading, and the need to write your own tales.

  About The Author

  Jake is a YA writer, character artist, role-player, and avid gamer. His collection of novels are in the sci-fi/horror or fantasy genres. Throughout the years, he has written multiple short stories and various screenplays. Jake was born in the `village´ of Bellaire, Ohio. As the population shrank, he knew he needed to get out or get caught in the trap of the average small town-if you don´t get out young, you don´t get out at all. The earliest influences on his writing were survival horror video games, and sci-fi/fantasy novels. It was the thrill of a good scare and abilities above and beyond the scope of physics that drove his imagination. For many years, Jake focused only on his artistic abilities and put writing aside. He eventually enrolled in an art school, but after taking a Story Writing course, he became serious about his work and eventually switched to Creative Writing at another university. He was twice published in the school’s magazine, The Aviator, for his works, Book of Fate and Omega Virus. Jake spends most of his time with his wife, and is always writing, drawing, or gaming.

  A RADIO BROADCAST...

  Are you listening? Tell me you are.

  I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks.

  I’VE HAD THESE DREAMS.

  They’re so vivid, I wonder which world is real.

  I’ve been alone too long. Am I going crazy?

  THERE ARE CHILDREN.

  Twins. A boy and a girl.

  I think they’re ours…

  BUT ONE IS A MONSTER.

  She plans to destroy the last human city.

  It can’t come true… can it? I’m so afraid.

  IT’S WHY I FAKED MY DEATH.

  This is Tiffany Gainsborough...

  Zach, know I’m sorry and please...

  COME FIND ME.

  LEVEL 01:

  SINGLE PLAYER

  Months after faking my death, I never crossed a single soul. Not human, nor animal; only the rotting corpses that plagued every city I’d seen. On one hot summer day, I ran to zero supplies and left my final safe house. Lost, hungry, and clutching to my last shreds of sanity, I staggered along a road somewhere in northern Texas. I still carried Zach’s beat-up backpack.

  My stomach ached, and I felt weak. “Where is everyone?”

  I had water, but needed food, and I hadn’t found a single gas station, liquor store, or even motel in over twenty-four hours. How I wished I had a GPS, but even if I did, charging it was impossible. I doubted satellites connected any longer.

  Within me, a small sliver of hope remained that one day someone might rise and destroy the corpses, but where were they? My fellow gamers and pros of the new age?

  I’d made a big mistake in leaving the Gamers’ Guild. How could I miss them so much?

  I stumbled into a nearby telephone pole and leaned my head against the hot wood. Growling made me jump. A corpse? Little energy ran through me, but I turned. I found nothing but the empty road. A manic giggle escaped my lips, and I leaned back against the pole, sliding and landing on my ass.

  “Must’ve been my stomach? I should let the next corpse eat me and put me out of my misery.”

  The days had melded together, and a week or more must’ve passed since I’d eaten. For a moment, I thought to check the backpack, but then remembered I kept it for sentimental reasons. It didn’t have much use.

  The sun set late each day. With the scorching temperature, I sweated a storm, and I smelled akin to a rotten melon, maybe even a corpse. With the Zombie Apocalypse came lack of hygiene. Either way, I had no one to impress.

  A long groan came from my stomach, and I closed my eyes. “Please be quiet.”

  The groan repeated, this time, it didn’t come from me.

  “Dammit!” I scrambled as the corpse behind me made its lunge. It landed with a splat and laid there unmoving. I cocked my head, had it killed itself?

  I stared in silence. This undead wore priest’s vestments. A gold cross necklace had landed near my feet. I glared at the symbol and shoved it away.

  I skirted the corpse. “Got anything useful?”

  He had no weapons or food. No surprise. I kicked the bastard. “Stupid priest.”

  A long howl broke the late afternoon silence, and I jumped. My nerves were on edge.

  “What the hell was that? Sounded like a coyote...”

  There weren’t animals—Not for months. I was just going insane.

  My legs flew from underneath me, and I fell. My head cracked on the asphalt, and everything blurred. The undead priest scraped the road with broken nails, trying to come in for a bite. I twisted to crawl away and my sneaker came loose, leaving my foot bare and vulnerable.

  I cried and dug my fingers into the dirt by the roadside. The corpse gripped my heel as I pulled myself to a fence, only to find it covered in barbed wire. I couldn’t crawl under to escape. With my back to the barrier, I kicked hard. The corpse grabbed that foot too and tore the shoe off with its jagged teeth. Thinking it found a meal, it let go, and I got away, taking my backpack with me.

  “Asshole!” I glared as it tore apart my only footwear.

  He needed an ass kicking. I threw the backpack and charged, my bare feet slapping the road. As I got close, I snatched the large, sharp cross necklace. The corpse looked up as I stabbed the holy symbol into its skull, over and over. At least I found the proper use for a cross.

  I gave it a great kick, and chunks of its head splattered the roadside. My chest heaved as I stomped for good measure. I found my torn-up sneakers and rage boiled in my belly. They were useless. I screamed and hurled them.

  Again, my stomach growled.

  “Shut up!” I unleashed foul curses and retrieved my backpack.

  Darkness crept in from the east. Before long, my feet were sore, and I stopped at a middle-of-nowhere bus bench. One board sank in under my weight, even though I’d suffered days of starvation.

  A groan escaped me. “There must be a city coming up.”

  I glanced at the bench. The paint was peeling, and it bore advertisement of a pre-apocalypse sandwich. My eyes widened as I took in the juicy-looking burger with melting cheese and dripping sauces. The fries looked delectable. I wanted to rip off the picture and devour it. My tummy rumbled, and it took everything not to punch myself in the gut.

  I lifted my feet and examined my soles. They were scraped, red, and embedded with tiny pebbles.

  “I can’t go on like this.” I picked the rocks out,
pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin. Minutes later, the sound of static lifted to my ears. It didn’t register until I heard a voice.

  “Dear Sister?” A guy asked.

  I tore the radio out of my backpack, and reached for the button, but a girl answered first. “Is this frequency secure?”

  “Don’t be silly, Sister,” the guy said. “There aren’t enough intelligent creatures left to hear us. I’m sure no one is listening.”

  “You are sometimes a dimwit, Brother. There are pockets of survivors all over the country, plus the Creepers.”

  I kept listening. Where were the survivors? What was a Creeper?

  “Good,” he said. “Did you hear about the loss in the family?”

  She sighed. “Yes, that happened months ago. Shameful, isn’t it?”

  “It is, but he had his burial at sea. Forget that, I must tell you; I miss you so much.”

  “I long for you too, Brother.” She giggled.

  “I need your soft, warm touch, and your tender hugs.”

  I held the radio at arm’s length. Had I tuned into an incest channel? No human contact in months, and the first thing I happened upon turned out to be a gross conversation between siblings.

  “I miss all of that too, Brother, but alas, we can’t be together just yet. I am still in Bellaire.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood. Bellaire? Did they mean the town where I met Zach?

  “Why do you bother with that silly, little Ohio town?” Brother sighed.

  “A survivor camp is here. One of the last ones.”

  The radio slipped from my hands but I caught it. A camp? In Bellaire? I had to get there.

  “Don’t get too attached.” Brother sighed. “Do you have the reports?”

  “Those boring things?” She groaned. “You sent them a week ago. I have them all and have forced myself to read every word.”

  “Then you know about Rockport?” he asked.

  “Yes, months ago! You’re trying my patience!”

  What a bitch.

  “Apologies, dear Sister, I need to make sure.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “The OVNs!” he groaned.

  “I’ll find them,” she said. “Before the Negastar does. Then we’ll get revenge for Grandson. He was an idiot, but family. Even if we didn’t care for the brat...”

  “Good.” He lowered his voice. “I know how preoccupied you get when you find new toys.”

  She giggled. “You sound jealous.”

  “No, my love. For I know I am the only one in your heart.”

  This time, I gagged.

  “I plan on staying for a week longer at least,” Sister said. “Then I’ll return to Los Angeles, and we can be together again.”

  “I will await your arrival with great desire.”

  Static once again crackled in the air.

  I stared at the receiver, wondering if I had just hallucinated the conversation. Either way, a renewed vigor took over. Survivors in Bellaire could include Zach, and he could’ve tried to find me.

  I grinned and hopped.

  My half-heart locket flung from under my shirt. My fingers wrapped around it and popped it open. The picture of Zach stared back, from when we were children. He had gifted it before his uncle Beauregard took him to Rockport.

  Zach looked so cute and innocent as a boy. When I found out he’d ended up in Milpeg, I begged my mom for months, and she agreed. We moved so to live near him again.

  After arriving, Zach acted as if he didn’t remember me. For over a year, I passed him in the school halls, and he never once said my name until the day of the outbreak. Then I told him not to call me Tiff or Tiffany. What I didn’t tell him was that I wanted the nickname he’d given me the night we first held hands. I wanted him to use Tiffa.

  With a sigh, I snapped the locket shut, and let the heavy piece of metal fall back and smack me in the chest.

  “Ow!” It was a mystery why it weighed so much. I forgot often and ended up hurting myself. With the moment of sentiment over, I tucked it back in my shirt.

  The sun vanished over the horizon faster than I’d expected. I hadn’t even seen a barn in miles; I’d spent many nights in bales of hay, high above the corpses’ reach, but tonight, I was out in the open.

  “Come on, Tiffa.” I pushed myself.

  Another great howl came from the fields.

  “Great, I’m not bat shit crazy.” I looked around, unable to see any sign of the howling creature, still I picked up my pace.

  In my weakened state, and without weapons, I might’ve end up a meal for the stupid thing. A cacophony of other howls filled the evening air. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and I jogged the road. Another howl drove me into a full-out sprint.

  “Where the hell are they coming from?”

  I reached the top of a hill and found my salvation. An old brick building stood a hundred yards away. I raced the slope and picked up so much speed I passed it before I could stop.

  Backtracking, I faced the front of the building and examined the exterior. It had a picture of a dog on top. I’d found a bus station. A few shattered windows showed the dark interior.

  I looked back just in time to see the sun vanish, leaving me soaked in clouded moonlight.

  Time was fleeting. I couldn’t examine the perimeter. I needed to get inside before the coyotes found me.

  The front doors were rusty, but as I pushed, one opened enough so I could squeeze through.

  My eyes needed to adjust, and it was the tensest moments of my life. In the time it took, corpses could’ve had me. I thanked the gaming gods that didn’t happen, and that I could see.

  Several rows of plastic bucket seats sat in the middle of the room while an enclosed ticket counter stood off to the side. The place looked intact and corpse free. Looters had likely broken the windows, or perhaps a dumb kid.

  To be sure I called out, “Hello?”

  No response came, not even a moan, groan, or hiss. I’d found safety.

  I edged forward, taking careful steps to avoid the broken glass. My feet didn’t need cut up any more than they were.

  I walked for the ticket counter door when I noticed the row of vending machines on the other side. My stomach roared as I vaulted myself over two rows of chairs. I scanned the first few machines and found them empty.

  “Oh, come on!”

  As I turned, a shape inside the far machine caught my eye. A single chocolate bar. Sure, the date might’ve passed, and it had zero nutrition, but I needed something in my stomach. With great glee, I shook the machine. The bar didn’t drop.

  “Fine, be that way then!” I reached into my bag and withdrew a dead flashlight, but even as I slammed it against the glass, it only made a loud thunk.

  Tears formed in the corners of my eyes. “What did they make this out of?”

  I fell to my knees, and shoved my hand through the flap, reaching for the chocolate. With my dexterous fingers, I reached. I salivated for it. My fingertips grazed the plastic wrapper.

  I cheered, but my celebration ended when a low growl echoed through the room.

  My head swiveled and found the rear door of the bus station wide open. Around the corner of a chair came a massive coyote. Its eyes gave off a dull, green glow.

  I held my breath as it saw me. It growled through the darkness. The moonlight shone in and landed on the beast. Its bone white skull peeked from under its maggot-covered, ragged fur. Huge chunks of flesh were missing, with exposed ribs. I swallowed hard as I realized a new fear; a coyote corpse. The virus had evolved.

  LEVEL 02:

  DON’T STARVE

  It caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect to see an undead canine. Fear crept from the bottom of my toes to my brain and I only thought one thing. “Oh, shit.”

  I took a defensive stance as my mind raced. How had the virus adapted to animals? Could I destroy its brain without getting bit? Did getting bit mean becoming infected? I tried to remember if viru
ses crossed species.

  Every thought ceased when the zombeast lunged. My survival instincts took over. I dove, and the monster slammed into the wall. Sheer primal instinct continued to keep control as I rolled to my feet, spun on my heel, and faced the undead coyote again.

  “Good puppy.” I patted the air between us. “We can share the chocolate, right?”

  It snarled and snapped; I’d forgotten chocolate gave them diabetes. He didn’t appreciate that.

  Again, it lunged, forcing me to vault over chairs. I hit the cool floor in between rows as another zombeast canine entered.

  “For real?”

  I ducked, and it flew above me; I jumped onto the seats and took the high ground. A third came in the door. There was no escaping, so I needed to cut off their spawn point. Then I could try to take them to the pound. I charged across the station. The enemy came in, but instead of attacking it, I feinted and spun away, slamming my back, and forcing it shut.

  I turned and spotted two of the coyotes coming in from different angles. I pushed off the wall and ran between them, jumping to avoid their jaws. Without weapons, death was around the corner.

  A planter sat nearby. I kicked the heavy thing over, grabbed the pot, and swung. The nearest zombeast took the hit and careened into the snack machine. The glass shattered and there it shined, my prized chocolate bar. A game of capture the flag.

  In my moment of distraction, a coyote tackled me. It hit with such force; the wind blasted from my lungs. Jaws snapped, and I grabbed its throat, holding it at bay. It thrashed and snapped, sending gory spittle in my face, but I shoved it away. The canine flopped, its nails scratching the floor. I eyed that bar again and knew it didn’t want me to leave.

  Rational thought vanished as I leaped over the chairs. I crashed into the last row and reached for the vending machine, but my momentum caused the chairs to tilt.

  A cry escaped my lips as they collapsed, and I landed face to face with a zombeast. It snarled, coming for a chomp. I expected pain, but my baggy jeans saved me, just as the day the ZPoc began. The undead mutt thrashed, gnawing pant leg. It gave me the time to retrieve my flashlight, which I used to smash its rotting dome. With a sickening squish, the coyote skull exploded.