The Counter Strain: Corrupted Genes, #2

By S. B. Sebrick

When the world is overrun with ravenous infected, how do you find the time to tell someone you love them? How do you move on, when the one you love gets left behind?

Sasha's secretive mother awaits in the city of Knox, Indiana. Someone far more valuable and dangerous than the tree-hugging hiker Sasha thought her mother was. Worst of all, Chris plans to use her as a human bargaining chip, leverage to obtain the most precious commodity in the country.

A cure for the ravenous C-21 virus.

Dive into an apocalyptic adventure story of redemption, love and sacrifice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Golden Bullet Publishing
• Release date: Oct 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536509489

S. B. Sebrick

S. B. Sebrick was raised in Vancouver, Washington. He has published short stories in 2005 and 2006 of Clark College’s annual ‘Phoenix’ Anthology. He recently finished ‘Dire’, the last of the ‘Assassin’s Rising’ novels. He often posts updates and teasers about the rest of his works from his website at www.sbsebrick.com Email him at [e-mail] You can also join him on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and Goodreads

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The Counter Strain

By

S. B. Sebrick

Copyright

The Counter Strain: Book Two of the 'Corrupted Genes' Series

Copyright © 2016 by Golden Bullet Publishing

All rights reserved. All similar appearance to other works or people are coincidental.

Cover Art by Seth Bennett

Edited by ViAnn Prestwich

A Golden Bullet Publishing Novel

PO Box 451

Brush Prairie, WA 98606

http://www.goldenbulletpublishing.com

Electronic Edition: June 2016

Printed in the United States of America

Other Titles by S. B. Sebrick

www.sbsebrick.com

www.goldenbulletpublishing.com

Claws and Steel Series

Death's Edge

Beyond the Edge (Coming Summer of 2016

Corrupted Genes Series

The First Strain

The Counter Strain

The Final Strain (Coming Spring of 2017)

Shattered Realms

Unseen Secrets

Splintered Loyalty

Persuader's Might (Coming Fall of 2016)

Assassin’s Rising Series

Decoy

Deluge

Defiant

Desolate

Dire

Deliverance

Related Short Stories

Fate of the Child

Betrayal

Other Short Stories

Revenge to Redemption

Binding Trial

Battle for Dominance

Lucian’s Trial

Outcast of the Flame

Author’s Forward

Special thanks to my friends and family. Thanks to my local writing group for helping me hone my craft. Special thanks to Dr. Rita Carey, who helped me to find my voice. Thanks to Randy and DiAnne for their continued involvement in my career.

I’d especially like to extend a special thanks to those of you reading this book. Without your support, stories like these would not see the light of day.

Thank you.

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Chapter 1

Sasha

A blood-soaked sunrise greeted us as we flew across Indiana. The plane's engines hummed rhythmically from their perches under each wing, as if trying to sing us into a well-deserved slumber, after the last week's horror and loss.

I shuddered. I didn't know which was worse. The sprinting bleeders, with their hungry wails and oozing sores, tore into anyone slow of foot or wit. For every bleeder you did manage to kill, most returned as the slow shuffling corpsers, pale, slow and relentless. They both followed me into my dreams, each time I closed my eyes.

Earl and his boys slept fitfully in one of the back rows. Earl's head tilted backward, leaving his mouth open. A content snore rattled away in his throat. Earl's wife, Rose, knelt by Charlie and Karen, the two car accident victims we managed to save a few days ago. Natalia and Timothy each took a row for themselves. They were survival experts from the pine barrens, though still of high school age. The infection was forcing them to grow up far too quickly.

This was the first night in a week we felt truly safe from the infection spreading through the cities beneath us. Sleep, for most, was a long-awaited relief. I lay on the floor, along the feet of a row of seats. I used a thin rolled up blanket for a pillow and one of Earl's tattered rain coats for a blanket. They both still smelled of sweat and pine needles, sand poked me from odd angles.

For me, sleep was frustrating and illusive. Trevian's last words, I love you, resonated in my mind like a lone voice in an empty chasm. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the grim determination in his. He'd draw his katana again and turned back into the blazing building, facing dozens of living corpses, trailing flames like demons from a nightmare.

If I tried to sleep, memory merged with nightmare and I either watched the infected tear Trevian apart, or tried to get him out and shared his fate. I kept telling myself there was nothing we could have done. Without a clear runway, we couldn't take off. We needed the distraction and Trevian understood those creatures, better than the rest of us.

But those facts didn't make the grief any easier to endure.

Trevian's friend, Natalia, yawned sleepily in the chair next to me. She was curled up in the fetal position between the armrests, like a chocolate-skinned child rocked to sleep by the plane's gentle sways against minor turbulence. The other shadow trooper, Timothy, lay in the adjoining seat, resting his head on her shoulder.

For years, the woods of New Jersey was home for them. At least they didn't have to endure escaping New York City. Only the brief fight to the plane could possibly haunt their dreams. I restrained a brief sting of jealousy at the childlike bliss on their faces and felt guilty for it. If the disease spread across the country with the same ease I saw in New York City, their peace would be short lived.

How are you doing, Sasha? Rosie asked, kneeling down next to me. Her nursing scrubs were stained with dirt, grime and blood. She was the closest thing we had to a doctor and the mother of our little group. This wrinkles spread out from her eyes like spider webs. I'm pretty sure they'd doubled in size since the infection first broke out.

I could use a shower, I muttered sarcastically. Everyone stank. A thin layer of grime covered my arms, face, neck and legs. We hadn't bathed since our pit stop at the naval station earlier that week. The Pine Barrens we hid in covered all our gear and clothes in sand, tree sap and pine needles. Then there were the ticks, ugh.

I know what you mean, Rosie replied with a chuckle. She'd taught me some basic first aid during the trip. Earl and her sons slumbered in the back two rows, using various parts of their gear for makeshift blankets or pillows.

Could I get some water? Karen asked, trying to roll onto her belly. Her faded sleeves were stained green from the pine needles, since her stretcher was basically a couple long boughs tied together at one end. She winced as the motion pulled on her splinted leg.

Now, now, Rosie insisted with the most motherly of tones, pulling a small water bottle from her pocket. We've discussed this, Karen. The car crash broke your femur. You need to lie still, so the splint can hold the bones together. Otherwise, they won't mend.

Yes, Doctor, Karen said, flashing a wry smile as she took a long draught of water.

Just be glad I'm a trauma nurse, Rosie replied, shaking her head. If I worked at a clinic, taking vitals and talking with people all day long, I'd be useless in a crisis.

Seriously, thank you, Charlie chimed in. He lay on a separate pine stretcher, toward the rear of the plan. He lay on his back from a similar injury. He tilted is head back so he could talk to us, though no doubt, from his point of view we were all upside down. "We wouldn't have survived the car wreck without your help. Worst honeymoon ever.

Think of this as a practice honeymoon, Karen said, in between gulps. Now we know what not to do, the next time a terrible virus infects the general population.

Like, driving away from the infected?

Like driving too close to the car in front of you, when a bleeder jumps in front of traffic, Karen replied.

Charlie winced. I thought you were asleep.

That's how I learn the most about you, Karen said, handing back the plastic bottle. When you think no one is watching.

Oh! Charlie sighed, sagging with relief. Now I'm really glad I didn't try and flirt with the cute woman in the Porsche last week.

I'll bet you are.

The intercom burst to life, tugging us all from our thoughts and dreams. Chris' voice was heavy with fatigue from our constant flight. Ladies and Gentlemen, he slurred, I'm pleased to announce that I've located an airport not crawling with infected. We have two... escorts, coming to guide our approach.

That was odd. We'd flown over multiple airports even refueling at one, without any talk of an escort. I walked toward the front of the plane, curious. I stepped gingerly over sleeping bodies and open backpacks. My stomach still churned over the conversation I'd overheard from Chris the previous night.

That was the other reason I couldn't sleep. The man flying the plane was planning to use me as a ransom to insure my mother's cooperation. Apparently, she wasn't the outdoor enthusiast I was raised with, but a government scientist with a high tech lab and everything. If she refused to cooperate, they'd kill me. I paused at the door to the cockpit, toying with my options.

As far as I knew, two weeks ago my mother left for a camping trip in upstate New York. I didn't even know she liked science. She was the outdoors woman who made time to bring me breakfast in bed when I was sick. In high school, she even made time to watch Disney movies with me after my adolescent arguments with the girls at school or issues with a boyfriend.

What was my mother really like? How much more was there to her story? Not only did I need answers, if that wasn't enough to deal with, but my dad died last week. I needed some fragment of my family to survive this madness. The infected had already claimed my dad and Trevian. I couldn't let her die too.

Then again, if she didn't trade my life for whatever they wanted, they'd kill me. I overheard that much. Could she possibly be working on something that valuable? Playing along with Chris was a risky plan. Running away and leaving her alone against whoever else worked alongside him wasn't an acceptable option either.

I glanced over my shoulder at Natalia's Indian Princess face and Timothy's pasty white features, pursing my lips in thought. Should I tell them? If Chris had friends waiting for him, which seemed likely, there was no way I could save my mother on my own.

But Timothy and Natalia weren't soldiers, just shadow troopers. They could sneak around and forage on their own, but I'd seen the panic on their faces last night after their first encounter with infected people. They were still freaked out. Trevian could have taken the new challenge in stride, but were they ready to fight real people?

I gulped back a sudden surge of grief and entered the front of the jet.

If I weren’t in such a foul mood, Chris would have seemed comical. His years of lifting weights made the pilot's seat uncomfortably small for his bulky form. He sat in the pilot's chair, headphones over his ears, his tired eyes glued to the instruments in front of him. His greasy blond hair poked out at odd angles. He still wore the same jeans and sweater from NYC, now so stained with blood, grime and tree sap their original color was unrecognizable. Two dots followed behind us on the radar screen, matching our speed.

I tried to play dumb and act concerned about him, but such a lie was difficult to maintain. How do you feign ignorance when you know your ex-boyfriend is planning to kidnap, trade away and possibly kill you?

What's with the escort? I asked, sitting down in the chair next to him.

The cool leather upholstery settled around my body, adding a small sense of comfort to my current situation. I wished this chair were an ejector seat and I could just press a button and escape. Or maybe eject him, but that would leave me with no way to find my mother. Or anyone to pilot the plane, for that matter.

I looked over the controls before me, but I couldn't decipher the uses of half the dials and switches. Most parts were abbreviated, which didn't help much. I never thought I'd actually need to learn to fly. Even my major at college, dancing, seemed particularly useless now. I had only what I learned in my few short days with Trevian to help me get through this alive.

My stomach churned nervously, like mixing vinegar and baking soda, threatening to send me scrambling for the restroom. Maybe I should just run when we landed? I could convince the shadow troopers to join me. But where would I go? My dad was dead, Trevian too... Chris was the only means I had of getting back to my mother. I couldn't abandon her.

Fighter jets, Chris said softly, his knuckles whitened as he clutched the controls a little too tightly. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, running down his neck. Apparently the only airport still operational in the state is Wheeler Airport. It's run by the military now. It was a small, backwater place the last time I was there. Things have changed a lot in a few weeks.

Why are you so nervous, then? I pried, stretching up in my seat as I looked over the brown and green pockmarks of land stretching out across Indiana below us. From this high up everything looked pretty normal, aside from the thin, multi-colored highway of stopped cars heading west. The eastbound lanes were empty. They're the good guys, aren't they? The airport must be free of infected.

"Because, it's military run, Chris emphasized, pulling his head phones aside for a brief moment. We are flying out of an infected region. For some reason the nearby town, Knox, was also one of the first ones infected with C-22 but they have it contained somehow. They are tempted to shoot us down here and now, just in case we’re carrying any infection. I got them to agree to quarantine us after we land. We're waiting for them to tape off a safe zone for us to land in."

Oh, I said numbly as the impact of his words sank in. They were cold and final, like prison bars actually locking into place in front of me. So much for running away once we landed. A larger part of me though, felt grateful for the extra time to sort things out. Perhaps, before the quarantine lifted, I could figure out a way to deal with Chris.

I hadn't considered things in the real world turning so bad, so quickly, hundreds of miles from New York City. We were only out of contact for a week. I glared at Chris' phone, peeking out of his pocket. Chris told us his batteries were dead, but I overheard him making a call last night when we escaped, discussing his plans with whoever waited for us at Wheeler.

What plans had they already made? Was time short for them too? Was Chris upset he couldn't join his friends right away, with me in tow? Or did the quarantine work in his favor somehow? I longed to get away from him, but a deeper need stopped those thoughts like a leash jerking back tightly. I needed my mother and the answers she carried. The feelings of indecision were so intense I feared I might split into two people on the spot. At least I had an extra day to sift through my feelings.

I sat back in the co-pilot's chair and tried to relax. A quarantine was good news for me. The military itself would buy me some time. Still, I'd feel a lot safer if Trevian were here. He'd never say so, but he had a knack for pulling plans out of the blue and making them work.

Chris put his headphones back on, listening to something over the radio waves, but he flashed me a sly smile and winked. Two weeks ago, I would have laughed at his attempts to re-ignite our old relationship. But now, I gritted my teeth and restrained an angry hiss.

Trevian chose to die yesterday, covering our escape. Would Chris have done the same to save me? Something just didn't seem right about running into an old flame's arms even weeks after a sacrifice like Trevian's. The very next day just seemed . . . cold. After everything I knew about Chris, I couldn't pretend to flirt back or even laugh cordially at his advances.

Chris watched me for a moment with a puzzled expression, opening his mouth to ask me a question. Then he cocked his head to one side, his eyes unfocusing from the controls as his attention turned to the voices in his headphones.

Roger that, he replied. N675, beginning our final descent. Bearing three hundred and fifteen degrees. Altitude, thirty five hundred feet and dropping.

I buckled up in my chair and flipped on the seat belt light on for the others. I leaned back in the plush co-pilot spot and caught bits and pieces of Ruth's hurried commands back in the main cabin, making sure everyone was secure.

Chris tilted the control column forward, easing our jet into a gradual descent. The Lego-sized trees, roads and cars slowly grew beneath us, as if we were shrinking down to their size. I noticed a long lake on our right, looking black and menacing against the red-hued sunrise. Ahead of us, a long green runway cut diagonally between two country roads. There wasn't much else to see out here.

Then I saw the military presence. A half dozen tanks, a hundred tents and dozens of cars surrounded the air strip. The majority of the vehicles and soldiers gathered around the far end of the run way. They seriously meant to enforce our quarantine.

Easy baby, Chris whispered as a sudden breeze pushed us a few degrees off course. Why do men already refer to their vehicles as female? Their gender was so hard to understand sometimes. Thank goodness Natalia escaped with us. I had another woman my age to talk to.

The