Point Of Transmission: A Post-Apocalyptic Epidemic Survival (The Morgan Strain Series Book 1) Read online

  Point Of Transmission

  A Post-Apocalyptic Epidemic Survival - The Morgan Strain Series Book 1

  Max Lockwood

  Illustrated by

  Hristo Kovatliev

  Edited by

  Valorie Clifton

  Copyright © 2017 by Max Lockwood

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Hristo Kovatliev

  Edited by Valorie Clifton

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the authors’ imagination.

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Acknowledgments

  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

  About Max Lockwood

  Also by Max Lockwood

  Excerpt From It Began

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Sign up for Max’s mailing list and find out about his latest releases, giveaways, and more. Click here!

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  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank the following people in helping me with this new series, in one way or another. L.L. Akers, Boyd Craven III, Alison Ryan, Jenn Falls, and L.G. Davis. I am glad to have the support and encouragement from all of you that helps me write what I write for all my readers and fans! Definitely recommend reading their books when you get a chance as well!

  Chapter One

  The cold mist fell in tiny specks on the diner’s windows, forming tiny rivers as they fell down the glass. Elaina breathed hot air on the pane and traced doodles in the condensation. To the average eye, it looked like geometric nonsense—just hexagons with straight lines shooting off into other shapes. Only Elaina understood the intricacies of the chemical formulas she designed.

  When it comes to art, most people appreciate paintings, literature, or music. Though culture frequently shifts, people tend to find beauty in works created by others. No one catches a cold and marvels at the nasty little virus that causes their suffering. No one except, perhaps, for Elaina Morgan.

  After a particularly bad stomach virus at the age of three, a precocious Elaina asked her mom why she was sick. At that age, all children are full of questions, but they never think too much about the answers. When her mom explained that tiny creatures had entered her body and made her sick, this small nugget of knowledge didn’t disappear like other childhood musings. Instead, she begged her parents to buy her books about viruses.

  Already used to her strange requests at this age, her parents read her short sections of completely age-inappropriate books every night. As a middle school English teacher and a mechanical engineer, her father and mother knew little of the subject matter as they read to their daughter. Within a few years, their services were no longer needed, and a bike ride to the library took Elaina to a new world of discoveries.

  It was no surprise, then, that by the age of fifteen, Elaina had completed her high school courses while she took college prerequisites at the local community college at night. When most students wrote their college application essay on why they wanted to attend their school of choice, Elaina attached a copy of her study on the Ebola virus to her Princeton application. She was awarded a full scholarship the very next day.

  Elaina nervously tapped her fingertips on the slightly sticky table as she waited for her coffee refill to arrive. She picked at a cheese Danish, knowing that she should eat but not really tasting anything. Sleep hadn’t come easily for Elaina in the past few days. She had never been a particularly good sleeper. There was always too much work to be done, too many ideas floating around her head. But, recent events had made it impossible to quiet her mind for long enough to make it through a few REM cycles.

  “Thank you,” Elaina muttered as the waitress came around with the steaming hot carafe of coffee for the second time. During her high school years, Elaina had frequented that diner, becoming a bit of a regular. Now, with her very own office, she didn’t have to leave the privacy of her laboratory to get her fix. When she arrived, she was mildly concerned that an old waitress or cook would remember one of their most loyal patrons, but in a college town, she was just one face out of many.

  She greedily gulped down her coffee after stirring a splash of milk and an artificial sweetener into the cup of dark liquid. In a few minutes, she would have to pack up her things and go, but she knew to savor the moment in the warm café.

  Drops of rainwater dripped from her baseball cap onto the counter, leaving small puddles that she wiped away with the sleeve of her baggy sweatshirt. Never much of a sports fan, she still loved to wear her old Mariners hat that her dad bought her years ago. She wore it like camouflage, blending in with the other caffeine addicts in the diner.

  Elaina made tight fists, trying to stop her hands from shaking. Too little food and too many stimulants made her heart race and her extremities quiver. A grandfatherly man two seats away offered her a small smile.

  “When you’re old like me,” he said in his pack-a-day voice, “just half a cup will do that to you. You’re too young to be so tired,” he said, noticing the dark circles around the eyes she tried to hide from the public. “I’m sure whatever you’re staying awake for isn’t as important as you think it is. I remember when my son was in college. He’d stay up all night studying for tests, only to fall asleep halfway through.”

  She nodded, covering her face with her cup. Appearing unfriendly was never really a concern of hers. Making friends with old men was very low on her list of current priorities. In fact, making friends was never on any list of priorities.

  “Can you believe it?” he muttered, nodding at the old television mounted on the wall.

  She turned to look and gritted her teeth at what she saw.

  Elaina had watched more news broadcasts in the past week than she had in all twenty-three years of her life. The information it presented never really had much to do with her life or her own concerns. Therefore, any time consuming that kind of information would be a waste, in the scheme of things. Time was best spent working on new discoveries in her field.

  “We’ve now received reports from the CDC that the virus is beginning to mutate as more people become infected,” an anchorwoman spoke in an unnatural rhythm that Elaina found grating.

  “It’s scary, that,” the man said, pointing at the screen, speaking to no one in particular. “I’m just lucky I live alone and don’t go out much. I heard they had to close down every
school in the county to keep this thing from spreading.”

  “Hmm,” Elaina hummed, hoping he’d change the subject.

  “New guidelines for avoiding the spread of this infection have been put into place and are being strongly enforced at all government agencies. The Morgan Virus is spread through the contact of bodily fluids, which can even include sneezes and coughs if the microscopic droplets enter the body.”

  “I heard there were a few cases being treated in the hospital on Maple Street,” a cook said from the other side of the counter. “It’s scary to think of how close it is to us. You just never know, one of these customers might be a few hours away from losing their minds and infecting someone. It’s like people are turning into zombies out there.”

  Elaina sighed, louder than she intended. This was how misinformation was spread. The fear of the unknown always opened up opportunities for rumors to fly. If any of these people had just a working knowledge of how viruses worked, this wouldn’t even be news.

  This strain, the Morgan Strain, was an impressive little virus. In its purest state, it had the power to cure the most troubling diseases in the world. But, released on the world in an uncontrolled manner, it caused great destruction.

  The zombie comparison was a bit of an exaggeration, but still not too far from reality. The sickness caused the patient to become agitated and more likely to act out in anger against others, but only in later stages. Most patients didn’t survive that long.

  “If you or someone you know is experiencing headaches, high fever, chills, and oozing sores that are slow to heal, call the emergency hotline on the bottom of the screen. Do not enter a hospital if you suspect you have been infected without being directed to your nearest Morgan virus center first. It is important for the doctors and nurses treating you to be properly prepared.”

  Elaina rolled her eyes. It didn’t help that the media was spreading the panic about the virus. It was a sad fact that average humans didn’t know how to keep their germs to themselves. However, Elaina knew that viruses like this were nature’s way of keeping the population in check. Unfortunately, when human sentiment becomes involved, people forget that sickness and death are perils of life.

  Of course, she understood the mind’s own attempts at self-preservation. She herself took measures every day in the lab to make sure she didn’t accidentally infect herself. She was not afraid of death in the same way most people were. She knew firsthand that it took the best people without any reason or discrimination. She knew the suffering it caused others. In her career, she strived to make new discoveries out of her own personal curiosity, but if it made it so others didn’t have to feel the pain she knew too well, that was just one of the perks of the job.

  “Do you think it can be spread through kissing?” a young, wide-eyed waitress asked. “Not even tongue-kissing—just a peck on the lips?”

  “I don’t think so, honey,” the older waitress replied. “The news never said anything about any kind of intimate contact.”

  Wrong, Elaina thought to herself. Apparently, it was too obscene for the news to talk about sex, which was one of the most common ways of transmitting the disease. Knowing the risks of the virus, she wouldn’t chance it herself. Although, she was probably the only one in the world who was better equipped to cure it or at least vaccinate against it.

  “We wouldn’t even have this problem if it weren’t for the idiot scientists who created this thing in the lab,” the cook behind the counter grunted.

  “But how did it possibly get out into the public?” the man sitting next to Elaina asked. “Isn’t that stuff under lock and key?”

  “My guess is that it’s either a government conspiracy or just plain stupidity and carelessness. But it’s gotten out of control now. It’s mutating and becoming impossible to predict. It’s so much worse than we could have ever imagined.”

  Elaina clenched her teeth. She wanted to speak up, but she knew that she couldn’t. If they only knew the good that the Morgan virus could do in its intended state, they would never talk about it in that manner. There was only one expert in the entire diner, and she was sitting with her head bowed, hoping the conversation would shift with the next news story.

  “Police are currently looking for a person of interest in the initial spread of the virus. Elaina Morgan, age twenty-three, was last seen outside her laboratory on September fourth. She is wanted by the state for reckless endangerment. If anyone has information on Elaina’s whereabouts, police would appreciate any leads they can get,” the news reporter droned on before shifting the news to the weather.

  Elaina quickly grabbed a handful of crumpled bills from her front pocket and set them on the table. She felt as though she was about to be sick, but she kept her focus.

  Her car was approximately fifty-seven steps away from the diner counter. If she could keep an even pace, she wouldn’t appear suspicious. Once in her car, she would leave the city and get as far away as she could. The next few minutes were important, though, and she could not afford to make a mistake.

  Elaina made it about three steps before the man next to her stood up.

  “Wait,” he said. “Isn’t that her?”

  He pointed at the television screen, flashing a smiling photo of her from her undergraduate graduation ceremony. It was a rare moment for her to smile in any photo, but she was just so pleased to go on to the next step in her career that she didn’t even mind that her mom was catching such a rare moment.

  Everyone at the counter turned to look, thrilled to have the opportunity to catch a real-life criminal on the run. If they called her in, there was no doubt that they would earn a television interview on the news station they watched all day. The fifteen minutes of fame would leave quickly, but it would be so satisfying in the moment.

  Composure flew out the window. Elaina took a running start for her car, hoping that she would at least be able to outrun the police when they showed up at the diner. With her shoes slipping on the wet pavement, she made her way to her vehicle.

  Keys in hand, she lunged for the door when someone got in her way. Her body halted in front of a tall, sturdy man dressed in a blue uniform. Elaina’s stomach dropped.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to the police officer she ran into. “I have to get home. I think my mom is sick,” she tried.

  He stared at her, his eyes black and beady. His mouth was drawn into a scowl.

  This was it. She was caught just weeks after the first outbreak. No jury in the world would be able to acquit her because by the time she got a trial, everyone would have lost a loved one to the virus. Also, as quickly as it spread, she probably wouldn’t survive prison. One infected person showing minimal symptoms could kill off an entire prison population. Plus, judging by the strange symptoms that appeared as it mutated, it would not be pretty.

  “Can I get to my car, please?” she asked politely, pointing to the car that the officer’s body was blocking.

  He was silent. Upon closer inspection, Elaina realized that his skin was a mottled grey color. His pupils were dilated as if he were in the sun, but it was an overcast day. Also, they extended far beyond normal pupil dilation.

  Without any warning, the man lunged at Elaina, wrapping his big hands around her biceps. Taken aback, she stumbled a few steps backward, coming loose from his grip. She ran to the passenger side door and quickly slid into the seat before he could follow.

  She managed to slam the door behind her, but not without catching the man’s fingertips in the car. He howled an unnatural sound as the very ends of his fingertips fell to the dusty floor mat.

  Elaina locked the doors and slid into the driver’s seat, reversing out of the parking lot as quickly as possible. With a skid, she shifted her car into drive and didn’t look back at the possessed policeman who was staggering toward the diner.

  Chapter Two

  An empty beer bottle rolled off the table, but Alec caught it before it hit the ground. Even after six drinks, his reflexes were still relatively sharp
. His motions were fluid. He’d often react to outside stimuli before he even had a chance to think about what his body was doing. Usually, his quick reactions served him well.

  Alec set the bottle upright on the coffee table and reached for another lukewarm brew. He was drinking purposefully, so it didn’t matter if he didn’t enjoy the warm beer. After five or so, they didn’t taste the same anyway.

  Outside his small, two-bedroom home, he heard noises in the street. Given his meager income, his home wasn’t in a great neighborhood. If he weren’t a cop, he would have been more afraid of the characters who roamed in and out of the neighborhood.

  Perhaps being an officer of the law put him at a bigger risk. He didn’t go out of his way to patrol the streets where he lived, but he always wondered if he would be ambushed at his home if he pulled over the wrong person. Luckily, he spent most of his time directing traffic. It was hard to get into trouble doing that.

  Still, he managed to see his fair share of action every now and again. His very first day on the job, he was sent to a home to check on a noise complaint. Typically, these calls involved telling homeowners that their nosy neighbors didn’t like the music they were blasting late at night. It just so happened that this particular home was the holding cell of two kidnapped kids. Once he was labeled a “hero”, he was allowed to go on more important calls when an extra body was needed.