The Infected, a PODs Novel

  The Infected

  A PODs Novel

  By: Michelle K. Pickett

  Copyright © 2015 by Michelle K. Pickett

  Distributed by Smashwords

  Sale of the paperback edition of this book without its cover is unauthorized.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First edition: October 2015

  Michelle K. Pickett/Hayes Publishing

  Cover design: Rocking Book Covers

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  ISBN-13: 978-0692533512

  ISBN-10: 0692533516

  The author acknowledges the copyright or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction: Coke/Diet Coke/Coca-Cola, Volkswagens, Bambi /Walt Disney, Car and Driver Magazine, Charmin, Double Stuf Oreos, The Wizard of Oz, People Magazine, Wikipedia, YouTube, Waldorf—Astoria, Ritz—Carlton, ChapStick, Guinness Book of World Records, Budweiser, Etch-A-Sketch, Humvee, McDonalds/Shamrock Shake, Lucky Charms Cereal, Dr. Seuss

  Also from Michelle K. Pickett

  PODs

  Finding Willow, a Freedom novella

  Unspeakable

  Milayna

  Milayna’s Angel

  The Innocent

  For the amazing readers of PODs.

  You’ve made my dream come true.

  Thank you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Eva's Journal

  Chapter 2: The Animal

  Chapter 3: The Missing

  Chapter 4: The Fence

  Chapter 5: The Return

  Chapter 6: The Hunt

  Chapter 7: The Attack

  Chapter 8: The Unwelcomed

  Chapter 9: The Crash

  Chapter 10: The Whiteout

  Chapter 11: The Arrival

  Chapter 12: The Compound

  Chapter 13: The Appointment

  Chapter 14: The Closure

  Chapter 15: The Wolf

  Chapter 16: The Lake

  Chapter 17: The PODs

  Chapter 18: The Visit

  Chapter 19: The Meadow

  Chapter 20: The Start

  Chapter 21: The Weak

  Chapter 22: The Motel

  Chapter 23: The Infected

  Chapter 24: The Friend

  Chapter 25: The Dogs

  Chapter 26: The Choice

  Chapter 27: The Journey

  Chapter 28: The Quarantine

  Chapter 29: The Jury

  Chapter 30: The Battle

  Chapter 31: The End

  Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  About Michelle

  Excerpt from Milayna

  Excerpt from Unspeakable

  With our love, we could save the world.

  ~George Harrison

  It’s been months since the shadow of death has plagued our lives. I stopped journaling because there wasn’t much to write about. Life was remarkably normal. Until now.

  But now, because of new developments, because of the new threat to our society, our lives, I feel the need to leave my account of the last two and a half years. I’m documenting it so if—when—I die, others who might find this journal will know what happened. The real story. So they can prepare themselves for when it happens again. Because it will. Of that I am certain.

  I was seventeen when the virus hit, killing everyone. Men. Women. Rich. Poor. Young. Old. It didn’t care.

  Once a person showed symptoms—fever, bluish spots that looked like pimples on the tongue and gums, pronounced blue veins on the arms and legs that looked like a road map, a red rash on the body, uncontrollable tremors, vomiting blood—they were already dead. There was nothing doctors could do for them. The virus was one hundred-percent fatal.

  The news was filled with images of mass graves and huge pyres of burning bodies. The clean, salty scent of the ocean that normally blanketed my costal town was replaced with the stench of burning flesh. It burned the back of my throat like I’d just taken a swig of one-hundred proof whiskey. My eyes filled with tears when I went outdoors. I’m not sure if it was from the smoke that seemed to hover over our town like it was swallowing us whole, or if I was crying. Maybe both.

  Scientists scrambled to find a cure or a vaccine. They came up empty. The human race was running out of time. With each tick of the clock the virus killed hundreds, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to stop it.

  When it was obvious no cure would be found, the government announced the opening of the Populace Obliteration Defense system, or the PODs. The POD system was viewed as our salvation in a time of death and destruction. Put in place years before in case of an extinction level event, such as a meteor or asteroid strike, or a nuclear war, the underground habitat was civilization’s only hope of survival. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough room for everyone, so the government held a raffle.

  I won, so I lived. Others lost, and the world lost them.

  Everyone selected for the PODs had to leave someone behind. I lost my parents. I said goodbye with the crushing knowledge I’d never see them again. I left them to die. That haunts me every day. It’s an ever present knife that twists in my heart, leaving an open wound that festers and never heals.

  I lived in the PODs with the other “Chosen” and waited for the virus to kill the people left above. The theory was, when all the living hosts were dead, the virus would die too.

  When scientists finally determined it was safe for us to exit the PODs, we were surprised to find survivors—Topsiders. People who were able to isolate themselves well enough to avoid infection.

  Oh, and the virus. It survived, too.

  It mutated and lay dormant waiting patiently for hosts, almost as if it knew we were hiding, and if it waited long enough we’d come out.

  When the PODs were opened and topside survivors came out of isolation, we were like a living, breathing smorgasbord for the virus, and it began its deadly rampage a second time.

  But it didn’t just kill like the strain before it had. The mutated virus created monsters—living zombies. People without any thought except to hunt and feed and they fed on anything living, including other people. But worse, if a victim survived an attack by an infected person, they were infected by their bite.

  Being infected was worse than becoming dinner.

  When it was discovered the virus hadn’t died, but lain dormant waiting for new hosts, the villages were closed to keep the infection rate as low as possible. The military patrolled the streets, villages were turned into military compounds, districts were forbidden contact with one another, and curfews were put in place.

  Fences were constructed to keep nonresidents out and keep residents from wandering outside the compound into the Infected Zone. Topsiders weren’t allowed into the compounds, even if they weren’t infected.

  And POD survivors didn’t automatically get into the compounds, either. Once a POD survivor left their assigned area, they were considered a danger to others and weren’t allowed back. Period. I know. I left my compound. I fought the Infected. I saw what the virus did and it scared the shit out of me. A person is never the same after seeing something like that. After living through that. After killing to survive.

  I lost all sense of time. Days, weeks, months—I couldn’t worry about that. I had more important things to think about, like staying alive. So I can’t tell you how long we fought before an immunization was developed.

 
But after the immunization, more than six months went by without a report of a new infection. People started to heal, create normal lives. It felt like living in Utopia. There was no crime, there was no unemployment, no one went hungry and no one was homeless. People worked together, played together, genuinely cared for each other. Maybe it was a side-effect of surviving something that nearly wiped out the human race—it made us more humane.

  And now? Well, now is a different story altogether. We thought it was over. We thought it was gone. That we’d beaten it.

  We were wrong.

  It stood beside the red brick wall of the medical center and watched me. Goose bumps pricked my skin. I’d never seen it before and there was something… off about it. It hid in the long shadows cast from the building and the giant willow that grew next to it. Its eyes glowed eerie amber.

  That’s creepy. I’ve been reading too many horror novels.

  Three men in protective clothing rushed out of the medical center’s door. They grabbed it and pulled it to the back of the building. It growled and snarled at them, twisting its body to get free of their grip. It took all three men to carry it. A soldier with a rifle slung over his shoulder followed a safe distance behind.

  They’d just rounded the corner, out of my sight, when a thunderous bang echoed through the small town square, sending birds flying, and drawing the attention of the few people walking by.

  I jumped and looked toward the sound. I’d been around guns enough in the last two years to know the sound of one. I gripped the books I carried tighter to my chest, and turned to leave. With a gasp, I stopped short. A second animal blocked my path, the same amber eyes watching me. I didn’t dare move. I barely took a breath.

  The eyes looked the same as the first, but green pus oozed from the sides. Its top lip pulled across its yellowing teeth in a snarl, saliva dripping from its mouth in long, sticky strings.

  It took a step toward me. The hairs on my arms stood on end and blood thundered behind my ears, making it almost impossible to hear the quiet voice that came from my right.

  “Stay still,” he said.

  I quickly peeked out of my peripheral vision to see the officer at my side, his gun drawn.

  No, I don’t want to stand here! Shoot it! But I didn’t dare voice my thoughts. The animal didn’t look like it wanted to chat.

  Every beat of my heart filled my blood with adrenaline. My hands were slick with sweat, and beads slithered down my spine. Everything in me screamed, run! I forced my feet to stay still.

  What are you waiting for? Shoot it!

  The animal took another step toward me, and crouched low to the ground. The black and gray fur along the ridge of its back stood on end in warning.

  You’re pissing me off. Shoot the stupid dog already before it mauls me in the middle of town square.

  The dog leapt. I raised the books I held to block its attack. And the officer finally decided to shoot the damn thing.

  The body hit the ground with a thud and skidded across the pale stone piazza, leaving a gruesome, dark red trail behind. Gagging and still shaking, I turned away, squeezing my eyes closed.

  “Eva! Are you okay?”

  I jumped at the sound of his deep voice, and opened my eyes. “Yeah, Devlin, I’m fine now that he,” I jerked my head toward the deputy, “finally decided to shoot the darn dog before it gnawed my appendages off.” I peered around Devlin’s six-foot, four-inch frame to get another peek at the gnarly looking dog. “What’s the matter with it anyway?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t know. Listen, I get off in five minutes. Hang around? I’ll walk you home.”

  “That’s okay. I’m fine, and it’s out of your way to walk me.”

  Devlin lived in the Medical District where he was a med student at the medical clinic, the closest thing we had to a hospital. I lived on the other side of the village in the Education District where I taught English at the public, well, the only school.

  “No, I want to make sure you get home all right. Just wait here. I’ll grab my stuff and be right back.”

  I started to tell him no, but the dog creeped me out, and I did kind of want someone to walk with me. So I nodded.

  I sat on a bench near the small water fountain in the center of the small town square, waiting for Devlin. The fountain sat dry and unused because of water conservation laws, but I still loved sitting by it. It had been turned into a giant flower bed. Thanks to the earth science class at the school and the ladies’ auxiliary, it was always beautifully kept.

  The fountain was made out of granite or marble, something like that. I didn’t know. I just liked the sculpture of a little boy and girl holding hands with an umbrella over their heads. The little girl had a look of glee on her face and I could almost hear her giggles. She held her hand out and on the tip of her fingers was a butterfly.

  I gazed at the fountain and the colorful fall mums planted around it, when two men in green scrubs and yellow rubber gloves up to their elbows walked by. They carried the dead dog on a gurney. “What’s wrong with it?” I called.

  “Rabies.”

  That doesn’t look like rabies. Of course, I really wouldn’t know.

  It wouldn’t be long before I learned it was something much deadlier… and so was the dog.

  Devlin and I were quiet during the walk to my house. He was David’s friend, really. I hadn’t had much opportunity, or reason, to spend time with him. Now that David and I weren’t together, I really didn’t understand why Devlin felt the need to walk me home.

  “Have you seen David?” I looked up at Devlin. He glanced at me, and a lock of ink black hair fell over his forehead. It made his green eyes, framed by long black lashes, seem to snap with intensity. Or maybe it was my mention of David.

  A slight frown pulled at his lips. “Yes.”

  “Is he… I mean…” I blew out a breath. “How is he?”

  “Don’t you see him at school?”

  I shook my head slowly. “Um, no. He teaches in the science wing. It’s on a different side of the building than where I teach. We rarely see each other.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose that’s a good thing.”

  Devlin ran the side of his hand over his jaw. “Yes, I suppose it is since you dumped him.”

  “Ouch. And that’s not true.”

  “Whatever.” Devlin swatted his hand in the air like my words were inconsequential. “He’s hurting, Eva, is that what you want me to tell you?” Devlin looked over the expanse of the village park—everywhere but at me.

  I shook my head and swallowed down the large lump in my throat. “No, actually, I was hoping you would tell me he was moving on. It’s been six months. I thought maybe he’d meet someone by now. I don’t know. Date or something. Believe it or not, this isn’t what I wanted—”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “You know, he was the one who wanted…” I sighed and squeezed my eyes closed. “Thanks for walking me, but I’m okay from here.” I stopped and turned to him. The late afternoon sunlight gave his black hair an almost blue tint. It was so glossy it looked like glass.

  Devlin ran his hand over the back of his neck and cursed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be an ass. David’s my friend. And you’re…”

  I raised my eyebrows when he didn’t finish. “What? The bitch that broke his heart?”

  “Don’t do this, David. Don’t make me choose.”

  “I didn’t think there’d be a choice to make.”

  “I just need some time.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t. I want an answer now.” David’s face was set in hard lines. I’d never seen his expression turn so dark.

  I knew my reaction hurt him, and that was the last thing I wanted. I loved him with everything in me, but I just wanted… I don’t know what.

  “I love you. But if you are going to force me to decide now, the answer has to be no.”

  Devlin’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Well, yeah, but that’s not what I was going to say.” A sm
all grin touched his lips.

  I looked to the side and drummed my fingers against my leg. “Okay, what? I’m what?”

  “You’re you.”

  I felt a smile pull at my lips. “Wow, very deep. I think you’ve been sniffing the alcohol wipes at the clinic.”

  Devlin chuckled. “Maybe. C’mon, I’ll walk you the rest of the way home.”

  “Did you hear about Kelly?”

  “No. What about her?” I asked Joan, glancing up from the junk I was flipping through from my inbox. The school’s guidance counselor was a short, plump woman, who wore black horned-rimmed reading glasses, and her bottled-red hair teased on top of her head. I always thought if we’d still had televisions she’d have made a great commercial for hair dye and hairspray. Everyone at the school had bets on what her real hair color was. The supply of hair dye would run out at some point, and she’d be forced to show her true color.

  “Her husband died,” Joan answered, pulling my thoughts away from the question of her hair’s true identity.

  “Oh, no! What happened?”

  Kelly taught at the school. She’d been a POD survivor. Her husband John was a Topsider.

  “He was attacked by an animal while hunting. He’d developed an infection in the wounds and never recovered,” Joan answered as she unlocked the door to her office and pushed it open.

  The major problem we had in our utopian-like villages, was very rudimentary medical care. If someone got the flu, or broke bone, chances were good the doctors at the medical clinic could patch them up and they’d be fine. Even simple procedures, like appendicitis, were okay. But anything more advanced, like a heart attack, a broken back, and the more serious illnesses were a crap shoot. Sometimes a person could get treated and be fine. Other times, well, it was just better not to get sick.

  Often times, if they were able, a person who was seriously ill would make the journey to the north-eastern village—Area-One. The non-raffle doctors and scientists were located there, so medical care was more advanced. Most of the people remaining alive after the virus, were the result of topside survivors or raffle winners. But leaders in the medical and scientific fields were selected without using the raffle. They were who you wanted to care for you, but you had to get to them, and the journey was long and arduous. Most people couldn’t make it, especially the sick or injured.