Authors: Eloise J. Knapp
Pulse (21 page)
He wasn’t sure where they’d end up, but they were strong.
They would survive.
It seemed t
here was no hope. Two months after the initial outbreak,
Anisakis Nova’s
reach extended into every continent. For every healthy, living person fighting, there were ten infected there trying to kill them. Despite the effort from the military and government, without a cure or vaccination, it was a matter of time before any chance of survival went to zero.
The world held
its breath as more died or became infected, as life came to a grinding halt.
When the first rounds of MAC—
Marla Ainsworth’s Cure,
named after the woman who laid the groundwork down for it—were administered successfully in Georgia, no one knew. The power grid was down, servers crashed or destroyed, and the ability to communicate across states was nearly impossible.
But a spark ignited the world’s sense of hope.
The super antihelminthic was produced en masse around the world. Helicopters dropped it off by the crateful in major cities. The military rallied, their second wind something that would be forever marked in history books, defending hospitals and MAC dispensing locations with a kind of zeal that saved the country. Slowly the number of infected decreased until only a handful of areas remained hazardous.
Yet questions remained unanswered. The CDC released MAC without a full understanding of its potential ramifications. They were authorized to administer MAC only because the need for it was dire. Since the drug worked it would be sending humanity to certain death if they didn’t. As soon as the country stabilized, the CDC went into overdrive, researching genetics of
Anisakis Nova
and MAC’s effect on it.
The c
onsequences of the near-doomsday were everywhere. Fires had raged out of control, wiping out cities and neighborhoods. Millions of people were still unaccounted for, presumed dead or infected. The country people once knew was gone, operating on a skeleton crew of only the most basic workforces to provide electricity, water, and food.
But
Anisakis Nova’s
devastation was far from over. It was always darkest before dawn.
Around 2010 I watched an episode of
River Monsters
about a worm that eats you from the inside out. The idea stuck with me. It wasn't until years later after I had a dream in which people were exploding worms from their stomachs that I knew I wanted to revolve a novel around the concept. Thanks to all my family members who listened to me repeatedly describe the dream and watch me as I did the “and then the parasite explodes from their chest cavity” gesture while explaining the novel.
Thanks to Jamie Northam for the title, my beta readers
for bearing through the drafts and their honest feedback, and John MacLeod for his editing.
Huge thank you to all my fans who were willing to let me “kill them” in this book. Sorry to those who I didn
’t get to; your time will come.
Matt Scholz, thank you for all your “sciency” input!
And of course, to all my fans who take the time to enter these crazy worlds I write; without you, I’m just a crazy person typing words on the computer.
Knapp lives in Washington state and never complains about the rain. She went to Seattle University for graphic design and creative writing. If she isn’t crafting tales of the apocalypse, Knapp enjoys hot yoga, frequenting the movie theater, and preparing for the end of the world. Other works include The Undead Situation and The Undead Haze published by Permuted Press.
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More by Eloise J. Knapp
The Undead Sit
uation
(Permuted Press)
The Undead Haze
(Permuted Press)
By Eloise J. Knapp
The dead are rising. People are dying. Civilization is collapsing.
When the end finally occurred, everything about it was cinematic. The dead came back and ate people, civilization collapsed, and no one could do a thing.
But Cyrus V. Sinclair couldn’t care less; he’s a sociopath.
Amidst the chaos, Cyrus sits back and contemplates the gore stained streets and screams of his fellow man with little more emotion than one of the walking corpses. With his cache of guns and MREs, he rather likes the idea of hunkering down in his Seattle apartment while the world ends outside.
All is well and good for Cyrus… until he meets up with Gabe, a belligerent annoyance, and the other inconvenient survivors who cramp his style and force him to re-evaluate his outlook on life. It’s Armageddon, and things will definitely get messy.
When it did happen, everything about it was cinematic. I’m sure people banded together and tried to save themselves from their untimely dooms. They found solace in a mall, a house, or bunker, just like in the movies. Desperation and pessimism just prevented them from seeing the film-like qualities of their actions.
I was sitting in my apartment, alone, when it happened. Downstairs I could hear the banging of pots and pans as people fixed dinner. Their kids were whining, but that wasn’t anything unusual.
Outside the sky was plagued with deep grey clouds
, rain pouring. I left the window open so I could hear the softness of it.
A train whistled across town. A cop
car, sirens blaring, sped past the front of my apartment building. I listened to its sound fade away, again leaving me with the noises of my home and of rain.
It happened all at once, taking the entire world by storm.
It happened so quickly, people didn’t believe it was true. Denial just made the undead count rise alarmingly fast. People who accepted it were considered crazy by those who didn’t. In the end, I bet everyone wished they’d seen a few more Romero movies, maybe been a little less close minded.
If I were to try and tell you exactly how the whole zombie thing spread, I’d probably have to make up some stuff. No one knew if it was a disease or infection, or why it also made you turn when you died from non-Z related injuries. Oh, experts—especially religious experts—had a jolly good time with their theories, but no one truly knew what was going on. So, as I sat alone in my apartment, the chaos-inducing news of the zombies finally spread to Seattle, Washington.
People died then they came back. They ate other people. It’s a cliché way of putting it, but it’s the absolute truth.
There was only one person I knew who would accept the news as quickly as me—my long time friend Francis. He called early on with the latest update on the situation outside.
“You’re supposed to quarantine anyone who’s been bit, did you know that?”
“I hadn’t heard.”
“Boy, don’t you turn on the TV?”
“You know I don’t have a TV.”
The apocalypse
was
now, and since Frank and I were alike we both accepted that without much thought. I wasn’t sure what Frank’s plan was, but I got out my box of old Guns & Ammo for entertainment, barricaded my apartment door, and cracked open a can of sweetened condensed milk for the ride. (I’ve got a sweet tooth. Sue me.)
With my canned goods
obscene in calories and a top-story view of Seattle, I watched people die. I watched stuff blow up, stuff break, and the zombies gain numbers for their undead ranks.
My name is Cyrus V. Sinclair, and I didn’t care.
Chapter 1
I wasn’t going to leave.
I was going to leave.
Only days after the outbreak started, downtown Seattle was in a state of chaos and disrepair. From my window I watched people from all walks of life, all shapes and sizes, and of all colors get eaten by their fellow man. Some people
thought zombie movies were graphic, but nothing was as stunning as watching the action in real life.
Really, I suppose everyone’s intestines taste
d the same. Discrimination wasn’t an issue once you were a zombie.
A fully loaded military grade pack waited by the front door. When I packed it, I had intentions to leave. That was when rumors of the dead rising started. Now the dead
had
risen and I was still sitting in my apartment, hesitant to make a decision. Just one decision. But instead of deciding, I was thinking about the world outside.
I decided we were all doomed for sure
, and maybe that’s why I hadn’t stepped outside of my apartment in almost two weeks. Before, there was a chance of survival; the military was still trying to get control of things, the electricity was always on, and most people were still acting like…like people. But once the lights started flickering and occasionally went out, casting the whole city into complete suppressive darkness, I knew it would be just me, myself, and I ‘til the end of days. My ferret, Pickle, was my only companion who would accompany me for the apocalypse. For days we shared comfortable silence, eating gummy bears and ferret food, watching the mass destruction of mankind unfold before us.
The monotonous days were broken up by phone calls from Frank. My cell vibrated on the kitchen counter. He spoke before I could even say hello.
“How bad is it there?”
I didn’t have a TV, internet, or interaction with other people, so my personal opinion was limited. “Not too bad. The power’s still on, plumbing works mostly, and apparently I get reception.”
Frank huffed. “Well, I’ll
tell
you how bad it is. The coast is overrun. No ships coming in or out. A man going east told me he saw freighters ramming into shore. Goes without saying everyone is killing each other, living or dead. Damn government said they’re taking appropriate measures.”
It was surprising how fast civilization f
ell apart. One minute we were haughty Americans, the next we were as bad off as every other human being on planet Earth. Despite the government’s claims they could save everyone, or they were taking “appropriate measures,” people went berserk and the world went straight to Hell.
“Doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing. I’m fine here,” I said.
“You’re still in the apartment? How long are you planning on staying there?”
How was I supposed to know? One minute I was ready to walk out the door, and the next I was ready to hole up in the apartment forever. “I don’t plan on staying here. I’ve been thinking about leaving.”
“Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to think about it anymore. I’m coming to get you.”
I masked a gasp with a choke. Keeping my voice level, I asked, “What are you talking about? I thought you were still in Little Rock?”
Frank, in few words, explained that I couldn’t take care of myself worth a damn and he was going to pick me up. His parents, survivalists like Francis, left him a cabin in the mountains which he’d been working on for the past year. That meant Frank had been in Washington for a year without coming to see me. I felt a little hurt, but didn’t mention it.
“I’m not the same teenager who showed up on your doorstep, Frank. I can handle myself.”
The static of the phone almost masked it, but I heard him snort in disbelief. “Never said you were. So you’re saying no to the cabin?”