Copyright © 2015 by Derek R. Shupert
All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table of Contents
Afflicted: Patient Zero
More Books by the Author
About the Author
Afflicted: Patient Zero
By Derek Shupert
Hunger. Terror. Survival.
Once bitten, the infection consumes your body, and the mind is reduced to nothing more than impulses directing you to do one thing… feed.
Military veteran, Mike, is infected but hasn’t turned yet. His grip on reality and any control of his body is fading with every minute. The notion of never touching his beloved wife Becky again haunts his every thought.
Caught in a never-ending underground labyrinth Mike and his fellow captive’s race against time to find the cure and escape the horde of undead before it’s too late.
Patient Zero is an exhilarating sci-fi/ horror novel that will send chills down your spine and leave you begging for more.
FREE DOWNLOAD
Sign up for the Author’s Readers Group and get a FREE copy of the latest novella Afflicted: Genesis! To get started, www.derekshupert.com.
1
The flickering light swinging above my head is driving me crazy. Between the incessant squeak and those creatures out there, I can barely hear myself think. Gosh, it smells like a toilet in here. Out of all the places to get trapped, why the hell did we come into this small, dank wash room? The walls look as if someone sprayed urine all over—dried, yellow, and faded.
The bites on my legs and arms are deep, and turning a purple-reddish color. Whatever it is the infected are carrying I can feel it coursing through my veins, playing pin the disease on the only human left.
Doesn’t seem to be any reason to dress and wrap the bites as they seem to be festering now with some thick, yellowish fluid that runs out like Niagara Falls. My skin feels as if it’s on fire. Something seems to be lurking beneath, ready to tear through my measly flesh and scurry away. Man, I hope it’s not an alien.
The only person I have come across so far who was not trying to kill me is not saying much. I did not have much of a choice though. Sorry Ray, one bullet between the eyes seemed to be the only way.
Was that even his name, Ray? I just met up with him a couple of hours ago, running from those crazy bastards. If I’d seen that nasty gash on the side of his neck, I would’ve done him in right then and there. Why take the chance? Then again, he could have just popped me once after I got gnawed on like a chicken leg. Maybe we were caught up in the moment of having those blood drenched, spike like arms reaching for us, and hoped the other might be able to find a way out of this hell. I guess hope springs eternal, right?
Ray, we’ll just stick with that name as it seems fitting, sits across the room with his brains splattered all over the wall. His deep black eyes just stare at me. I did him a favor and used my last round to send him somewhere better. I will probably be joining him soon enough.
I check my pockets, hoping to find a fresh clip. Bupkis. My pockets are barren except for an old Zippo lighter with a dragon breathing fire on the side and a photo I.D. of someone that looks like me.
Trent Gazner.
He does kind of have some of my features, but I’m much better looking. Vanity in the face of death, I must be on the verge now. The banging on the door increases, the sound growing louder by the second. Bet there are tons of them out there now, foaming at the mouth, those razor sharp teeth glistening from the spit running out as they savor the coming meal.
I finally get the nerve to make a move—it must be the virus—and try to stand up. I have little to no energy and my vision is shot to hell. Everything is distorted and foggy, like looking through a coke bottle from the tip and out through the bottom. My one good leg, which shakes like a baby’s rattle, straightens and locks in place.
“If you want me, then break down the damn door and get me. Don’t make me wait forever.”
I slowly make my way across the room to the grimy sink that is covered in God only knows what. It’s probably a breeding ground for a community of diseases and germs. At this point it really doesn’t matter. Getting a side dish of tetanus along with what I’ve already got couldn’t make things much worse. At least now I can lean against something and relax as they break the door in and ravage my crippled body.
My leg gives out and I drop to the floor. With my empty Glock loosely gripped in my left hand, I fade in and out of consciousness. The sound of moans and growls play like a lullaby, and my mind retreats to another time and place.
“Mike baby, I love you so much!” Becky says as the waves crash behind her.
As I lie there in the sand, the warm sun shining down upon us, I look into her eyes and feel one with her. Her long, dirty blonde hair flows on the back of the breeze. She smiles as she brushes a few strands behind her right ear. She touches my face and instantly my heart begins pounding, making me feel like a young boy again. I run my hand up her mocha soft skin, cupping her face in my palm.
With a giggle and the sweetest smile, Becky gets up and throws the towel wrapped around her waist to the ground. Her body is that of a goddess, and I take in every inch as she runs toward the crystal blue water. We come to this secluded beach where you can see the ocean floor from the shore every year.
She dives into the middle of a crashing wave, disappearing momentarily. She loves the water so much that sometimes I think she’s a mermaid. I lie there, soaking in the breathtaking scenery that spans for miles. My life feels complete, as if happiness is just something I have, like breathing.
A noise in some overgrown grass distracts me. It sounds like some animal is hurt or growling, not sure which one. The wind picks up, whipping around the sand. Tiny granules penetrate my eyes, and I clap my hands to my face. Crap that stuff hurts. It feels embedded in my skin now and my eyes are irritated.
I hear something run behind me, fast and out of sight before I can even think to turn around. The smell is the only thing I’m able to catch—death and a hint of rot. Panicked and worried for my Becky, I get to my feet and try to look towards the ocean.
“Becky, where are you? Please answer me!”
For a brief second, I think I spot her just beyond the breaking tides. She seems unaware that anything is going on, but as I blink again and try to refocus on her, she vanishes. My eyes feel like sandpaper is rubbing off the corneas. The sand shifts, the waves crashing into the rocks all around me, taking me from worried to just pissed off.
I stumble around like a crazy person off their meds, cussing and screaming at the blowing wind. I spot someone or something up the beach a ways, which I can’t make out. It’s just standing there, still as anything. I swear I can hear it breathing from where I am—low, deep breathes that sound like an animal about to attack. I scramble, feeling around on my person, searching for any sort of weapon I can use to defend myself. All I seem to have is a pocket knife and the heightened sense one gets when the shit is about to hit the fan. I think it’s that fight or flight response. I’m not about to run so this joker in front of me might as
well tuck tail and beat it.
I bring my attention back in front of me, ready for whatever may happen, but the figure is gone. I take a step back, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, and hear something behind me. Time to die. I twist around before the thing can react and jam my blade into its flesh, driving it in with everything in me. Warm blood gushes out and down the blade, swallowing my hand whole.
Satisfied, I let go, allowing the lifeless creature to fall to the sand. By now my vision is clearing and my eyes focus on what now lies before me—dead. Instead of a hideous monster or some rapist that got his just dessert, Becky lays on the ground, terror filling her teary eyes.
I drop to the ground on my knees and grab her out of the sand, my left hand cradling her head. My heart is in pieces. What have I done? What kind of sick and twisted game is being played on me right now? I would lay down my life to save her.
Kneeling there, sobbing my eyes out and ripping myself apart for what I’ve done, I hear that all too familiar growling, playing like I’ve got a music worm camping out in the back of my head. It’s faint, just enough to let you know it’s there. Annoying. A putrid smell hovers around me, and I get the sensation that death is closer than ever.
That’s when reality kicks me in the junk and deepens my sorrow even more. There is nothing and no one else around us. We are alone on the beach. I pinpoint the source of the noise.
I lower Becky’s head back down, afraid I will see something that will be seared into my soul for eternity. Her face is contorted and her eyes are wide open, black as the freaking night. She is still and not moving, but that faint panting emitting from her mouth pushes out a smell that would make a dead person vomit.
I lean in close, braving the smell to get a better look. She springs up from playing possum and lunges for my throat.
2
Scared out of my mind, I awaken to find myself sweating like a whore in church, and my arms defensively stretched out in front of me. My heart races a mile a minute and I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate. I look around, dazed and confused.
Thank God it was only a dream. But it felt so real.
Ray is gone. Where the hell did he go? A bullet between the eyes should have done the job. The blood splattered on the wall has even been wiped clean, making it look like it never happened.
The door to the room is open, not a single soul in sight. I pull my Glock up and sweep the room, forgetting that the damn thing is empty. I check the clip again for shits and giggles, ejecting it and finding it fully stocked. Joy!
I start to question how it got reloaded, but why look a gift horse in the mouth. I’ll take it. Especially if one of the infected comes bolting into the room ready for an all you can eat buffet.
Feeling better somehow, I check my wounds and they are gone. No pus and both gashes seem to have closed and healed perfectly, again, like it never happened.
Tired of sitting next to the crappy sink, I spring to my feet, my eyes cleared of any haze. Actually, I now see with a clarity I didn’t have before. Everything seems more defined, way more in focus. Hell, my eyesight wasn’t this good before getting bit. Oh, and that creepy sensation that I had earlier of something swimming through my veins like a trout in a stream is still there, but different. Instead of trying to rob me of my life, it’s almost as if it is one with me. Fused into my biological substrate. Mutated even. Since I can’t tear it out of me, I’ll have to live with it, I guess. Maybe it will do some good. Who knows.
It’s really quiet, almost too quiet. Earlier those infected outside the door wouldn’t shut up and now it’s as if I’m all alone. I know I didn’t dream all this up because there is blood stained around the torn parts on my shirt and pant leg. That might be what they want, for me to put down my guard and think it was all a bad dream. Then I’d just causally walk out the door and they’d jump me like a thug in the night and finish their long awaited meal. Fat chance of that happening, you soulless demons. I may be alone now, but I’m not stupid.
I check the clip in my Glock one last time, making sure it being full wasn’t something I just wanted to see. Gold tinted bullets fill the clip to the rim, lined up perfectly. I slap the clip back in and chamber a round as I inch my way to the open door.
Funny enough, my heart is steady and I’m so much more aware of my surroundings now that I don’t even feel anxious. I mean I’m ready, just not stricken with a sense of fear that makes me feel like I’m going to hyperventilate or crap myself. Well, scratch that last one.
I near the door and press against the wall, trying to stay quiet, but my thick-soled boots seem to have other plans. They squeak something fierce, and no matter how I step, they sound off.
I pull my Glock up and scan the hall to the right for any sort of movement. Nothing. Clear as far as I can see. That was the easy part, if anything is easy now. The hall on the other side of this wall could be crawling with them. As much as I don’t want to be surprised and walk into a horde of them, staying in this room any longer is not an option. The smell alone is enough to make me run out into the unknown.
Growing a much larger pair of coconuts, and with the rush of adrenaline coursing through my body, I allow my Glock to take the lead and swing around into the partially lit hall. By now I feel so jacked that I could take on ten of those things at once.
Strange enough though, the hall is clean and clear of anything out of the ordinary. The musty smell still lingers and the overhead lights flicker like they can’t keep it together.
Again, standing with my Glock gripped tight in my palm, I wonder what the hell is going on here. Not but a couple of hours ago, I was running for my life with Ray and feeling like a happy meal to go.
Maybe I’m in the twilight zone and this is all just made up in my head. I could have had some crazy drugs or drank myself into a real life nightmare. It’s happened before, but nothing like this.
My nerves ease back and my trigger finger relaxes on the kill switch. The faintest of footsteps creep up on me. I flip around like the Flash, and grab whatever the hell it is by the throat, slamming it against the wall. The Glock makes out with its forehead and is about to move to second base when I notice it’s a battered and bruised woman.
She looks like a ripe banana that has been dropped one too many times, and she shakes like she’s about to have a seizure. Her right eye is bloodshot to hell and both are glassy from the river of tears that made her makeup run.
“Why the hell are you sneaking up on me?” I ask while keeping the Glock pressed firmly to her head.
She whimpers like a wounded dog and just stares at me as if no one’s home. Curious, I slide my thumb up her blood streaked throat and pull her quivering red lips open. Normal. Well, they aren’t all jagged and razor sharp like a shark’s mouth anyways.
“Plea . . . se h . . . elp m . . . e?” Her eyes dart from side to side.
I do a quick once over and see no open wounds or scratches of any kind. I nearly dismiss it but the last time I let it go, I had to put Ray down like Old Yeller.
“Listen lady, I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m going to ask you a question and you better damn well answer quick, fast, and in a hurry, or my friends inside this gun are going to do a meet and greet inside your skull. So please make no mistake, I will wash the wall behind you with your brains if I even get a hint that something’s up, okay?”
She doesn’t outwardly answer, but the petrified expression on her face says she gets my drift. For her sake, I hope so.
“Have you been bitten, scratched, or looked at funny by any of the infected crawling all over the damn place?”
“Trent, why are you doing this? It’s me, Alice.”
She’s looking at me now with that familiar gaze, her eyes filled to the brim with tears, as if she knows me somehow. It’s that look people get when they see a past friend they haven’t seen in ten plus years, who’s older and different. I really couldn’t care less.
I lift the Glock in the air and pop off a round into the ce
iling above, causing a nasty echo that will probably draw the attention of something extremely ravenous. She yelps like a wounded animal and tightens her body up, acting ready to receive a beating or something. I wish this lady would just answer the question.
“I don’t know who the hell Trent Gazner is, and I really don’t give a flying flip. Answer the damn question or I WILL KILL YOU!” The warm nozzle of the Glock hugs her flush, sweaty forehead.
“No, I haven’t been bitten or scratched,” she replies matter of fact this time. Guess she wants to live.
I still hold position for a few moments, trying to read if she is bs’ing me. Her eyes start that darting from side to side thing again, like she’s waiting for the boogeyman to jump out at any moment and scare the crap out of her.
I play it off as paranoia, considering her current condition and apparent state of mind, but something grips me tight inside and pulls my ear to the left and down the hall. It is a faint sound, like nails being dragged down a chalk board. I hate that sound. Makes me cringe every time.
I lift my Glock away from Alice and turn my attention down the darkened hallway. Adrenaline flows clean and smooth, heightening my senses. My finger caresses the trigger like a lady in love.
Alice starts that damn whimpering. “No, no, oh God no!” she mutters under her panting breath.
I would tell her to shut up, but it won’t do any good. The round I fired off earlier was like a flare gun being shot off in the blackness. Might as well ring the dinner bell for ’em.
My Glock takes the lead and I follow. The bone curdling noise comes ever closer. My hands are steady as a surgeon and I’m all business, thinking of nothing except the many different ways I’m going to pump that demon with my little friends.
Afflicted: Patient Zero (An Outbreak Zombie Infected Horror Suspense Series, Book 1) Page 1