The Final Strain: Corrupted Genes, #3

By S. B. Sebrick

Trevian's half of the cure slowly erodes his body. His senses are waning. Healing requires more and more time. Then there's those pesky violent tendencies.

They finally discover the location of Sampson's base. The architect of humanity's demise. The one person capable of stabilizing Trevian's condition.

If only he weren't residing in a fully fortified bunker, tucked well out of reach. How can Trevian and his friends hope to survive against such insurmountable odds?

Saving what remains of humanity is close at hand, assuming Trevian lasts that long.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Golden Bullet Publishing
• Release date: Oct 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393280170

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 Final Strain

By

S. B. Sebrick

Copyright

The Final Strain: Book Three of the Corrupted Genes Series

Copyright © 2018 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 324

304 Academy St

Kelso, WA 98626

http://www.goldenbulletpublishing.com

Electronic Edition: June 2018

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

Broken Edge

Corrupted Genes Series

The First Strain

The Counter Strain

The Final Strain

Shattered Realms

Unseen Secrets

Splintered Loyalty

Persuader’s Might

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 Foreword

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

TREVIAN

I’ve got it! Kelly shouted, knocking hastily on my door. Meet me in communications.

She didn’t bother to wait for my response. I heard her pause at other doors further down the hall, delivering the same message. She, Sasha and I were the only ones infected with a modified virus. Sleep was an elusive friend to us, one of the many frustrating side effects.

I noticed she didn’t bother to knock on the door across from me. Chris was slowly healing from his gunshot wounds, but Kelly insisted he still wasn’t well enough to leave his bed. Whatever plans Kelly was setting in motion, Chris couldn’t play a prominent role in them.

I rolled my neck from side to side, working out the kinks. Then I ducked into my little bathroom, flicking on the yellow light as I washed my face. Though I turned the water temperature to maximum, it only felt warm. Steam wafted up from the sink and my hands turned red from the abuse, but the pain also felt distant, as if experienced through a bad cell phone connection.

Even as I pulled my hands from the water, I watched the redness fade as my healing kicked in. Faint black dots spotted my hands, just like the black scars covering my body’s many wounds. My stomach gurgled angrily, and I sighed. I’d eaten three hours ago, but Kelly insisted that part of our transformation increased our metabolism by a factor of four.

I took off my shirt, running my head under the water next. I didn’t have time to shower, but at the least, I could freshen up. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend I was normal again, savoring warm water instead of burning skin I could barely feel. I pulled my head clear and dried it with a pale green towel. By the time I finished, a handful of hair lay in the fabric, mocking me. Another side effect.

I glanced at my reflection grimly. Black scars lined various parts of my body, like a road map of the abuse I’d been put through. The chest wound was the worst of the bunch, dark, crusty at nearly two inches in diameter. I could still remember looking down at the fresh wound, through the hole in to my heart. The organ had regrown, in a twisted, decayed fashion.

Conflicting feelings of hate and gratitude struggled in my chest, forcing my fists to clench in frustration. Without Jared’s injection, the slug would have killed me. Every day after that shot was like a gift, no matter the price, these days were better than being dead. Then again, my skin was gradually turning pastier and greyer with each passing day. No hair. No heartbeat. Intense hunger. I felt less and less human and more and more like one of those infected.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. Kelly had spent the night scanning radio frequencies for anything useful, though I wasn’t quite sure what her intentions were. Did she mean she’d found transport north or survivors to bring to our little bunker? The last one seemed far less likely, since our supplies were meager at best. I’d gone on a few runs with Natalia, salvaging enough to keep us going, nothing more.

I pulled my black T-Shirt on over the scars, though the short sleeves still left ample parts of my arms exposed to view. More out of habit than concern, I pulled my katana from the hook on the door. I strapped its belt around my waist. Sasha had sown a makeshift sheath for me, allowing the blade to hang at my left side. The tarp was thick enough to serve, as long as I wasn’t in a hurry when I drew the blade.

The room’s previous occupant, long since evacuated, had left a green cap with a yellow tractor on the front. I put that on last, pulling it snuggly around my ears. The others didn’t have to see the hair loss, at least not yet. We’d only been holed up here for a week. I wanted to give them a few more days of solace before I told them about my condition.

For the twelfth time since I arrived, I made a mental note to ask Kelly about my scars, paling skin and hair loss. Part of me feared her answer though, so perhaps I would put it off another day. She had lived longer with the virus than anyone else, which gave me hope, but she also didn’t have her heart blasted into pieces from a shotgun slug.

I stepped into the hallway, which echoed faintly with the gurgle of three showers. Natalia’s voice echoed from her room, singing a tune I couldn’t quite place. I felt a stab of jealousy. They could still feel. I hurried down the hallway, my tennis shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor. I shook my head, annoyed at the sound.

Good morning, Kelly, I said, slipping into the communications room. The opposite wall was lined with radios, manuals, and two powered down computers. Kelly sat next to a third one, its black screen etched out a number of waves in green and black. She wore a thick pair of black headphones, staring fixedly at the screen. She didn’t notice me until I pulled up the chair next to her.

Hi Trevian, Kelly said with a warm smile. How’d you sleep?

I gulped. Her head showed more skin than hair now, and what hair did remain was brittle and thin. Her pale skin suggested a life without sunlight, but I knew first hand that our situation wouldn’t be cured with a stroll above ground.

I didn’t, I said, shrugging. You?

Not really, Kelly admitted, returning her attention to the screens. But I made the most of it. Did you spend the night lying awake again?

I miss sleeping and the sound of my heartbeat, I admitted, rubbing my chest absentmindedly. Are you losing feeling in your limbs?

A little, Kelly sighed, closing her eyes. She turned a few of the dials on the screen, tweaking the transmission. After the chaos subsided, I snuck up and took General Thompson’s radio, allowing us to tap into his employer’s transmissions. At least my other senses aren’t affected. Yours?

It just feels less— human, I complained. Are you sure there’s not a way to fix this?

Kelly pursed her lips, taking off the headphones. She set them aside, turning her chair so she faced me. The skin on her face hung loosely from her cheek bones. Her eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them.

She took my hands in her own, they looked paler than normal. I sighed. With my own condition, I couldn’t even tell if her hands were warm or not. The virus in her system, and Cass’ shared remarkable similarities with the Corpser virus, slowing the subjects’ biological functions and eroding layers of hair and skin.

Your virus was the other half of mine, like its sister, Kelly explained with an apologetic smile. But they act as polar opposites. Yours accelerates your body, like the bleeders. Mine is more like a corpser virus. My body has slowed down dramatically, as has my need for food or water.

You didn’t answer my question, I grumbled, pushing her hands away. Can you fix me?

Kelly sighed, scratching a bare patch of skin on her scalp. This virus isn’t like a bacterial infection. You can’t just clear it out with a pill. It’s hiding in your very DNA.

So, you can’t help, I sighed. But, isn’t this your work. Didn’t you make this?

I had a partner, Kelly admitted, He gave his half of the cure to the government, just before the first strain hit the United States. A weaponized version for soldiers. That’s the stuff swimming around in your DNA, Trevian. I kept my half. Used it on myself, to buy me time to work out a cure.

Where’s he? I asked, wanting her to identify who might have the treatment I needed.

Before Kelly could reply, Sasha arrived, wearing stained jeans and a black tank top. She dabbed at her hair with a damp towel. Her skin looked paler than normal, but her mother’s virus had not yet unleashed the cosmetic effects Kelly already endured.

What’s going on? Sasha asked, feigning a yawn. I already knew Kelly’s virus would make sleep difficult, if not impossible. It’s five in the morning.

I’m sorry, Hun, Kelly said, patting my shoulder with the finesse only a mother can manage. My old partner keeps late hours, just like me. Let’s wait for Natalia and Timothy. I’m tired. I only want to tell this story once.

What story? Sasha sighed, pulling up the last chair. You’ve been so chatty these last few days, I can’t keep them straight.

Kelly shot her a wry smirk. I’m sorry if my life in a top-secret government lab isn’t interesting enough for you. Until you showed up, I’d never even seen gunfire firsthand.

A few minutes later, Timothy and Natalia appeared, looking just as tired as Sasha. Natalia managed to bury her fatigue under a sincere smile when she met my eyes. She wore a thick purple sweater, dark streaks along her shoulders from her wet hair. Timothy leaned against the far wall, his hand dried hair still disheveled from his haste. He wore a t-shirt two sizes too tight, as if trying to make his feeble frame look extra strong.

Thanks for coming when I called, Kelly said, taking a deep breath.

Any reason you couldn’t wait another two hours? Timothy asked, arms stubbornly folded across his chest.

Because the time’s come for you all to make a decision, Kelly said grimly. Time will likely be of the essence.

What’s going on, Kelly? I asked.

You remember the radio you picked up on your first supply run? Kelly asked, holding up the handheld radio now wired into her computer.

General Thompson, yes, I said, shuddering as I recalled his fate. His bodyguard, Frank, killed him. The first time, anyway.

It was the general’s direct line of communication to his boss, my ex-partner, Kelly reported, tapping the screen. It cycled through the same recording, but she’d left it muted. He’s the one who designed Trevian’s half of the cure. Now that I half both, I can retrofit a vaccine for the infection, eventually.

How long? Natasha asked.

Two months, maybe three, Kelly estimated, glancing up at a calendar on the wall. It will inoculate a healthy human against the infection, but I wouldn’t risk giving it to a child or the elderly. It won’t be gentle on a person’s system.

No kidding, Trevian said, rolling his eyes.

So, what’s the hurry, then? Timothy asked. Shouldn’t we just wait here for a few months? There should be enough food in town. Trevian can run it. He’s immune.

He’s not susceptible to the virus, that’s true, Kelly admitted, wincing as she glanced at Trevian. But he is susceptible to time. His cells’ functions are accelerated, healing, metabolism, and so on.

What are you saying? I asked, dread welling up in my gut. This was the revelation I needed, but had avoided so completely the last two days.

Based on what I’ve observed, you have about two weeks left, Kelly estimated, her voice low and her eyes grim. I can’t cook up a cure in that time. I’m sorry, Trevian.

The room fell into total silence. I stewed over her words. Now I understood my brother’s last words, forgive me. He’d dosed me with his half of the cure to make sure I got it to Kelly, but at the cost of my life. I thought about the black scars covering most of my body now, from all the bullets, bites and cuts I’d endured. I’d known the truth, somewhere deep down, I just hadn’t been willing to face it.

Are you sure there’s nothing you can do? Sasha pleaded. I could feel all their eyes on me, pained, worried. I closed mine and held my head in my hands, sorting through it all.

Me, no, Kelly insisted, flipping a switch, but there is someone who can.

General? A raspy voice spoke, We’re out of time. The third strain is in play. If you’re alive, forget Kelly. Come back to Louisville. Hurry. I don’t know how long you have.

The message was on a loop, broadcasting the same recording again and again.

The general was working for your ex-partner, Timothy said grimly, I’m guessing that you two aren’t on the best terms.

No, that’s putting it mildly, Kelly sighed, leaning back in her chair. There was something different in her tone now, a fire I couldn’t ignore. I sat up, surprised to find a sudden fire in her eyes. His name is Sampson. The infection was his doing.

How do you know? I asked.

It’s complicated, Kelly replied, squirming uneasily in her chair.

I don’t have a lot of time. Paraphrase, I said grimly.

Are you familiar with cholera? Kelly countered. "It was the inspiration behind our research.

It’s a waterborne illness, Natalia chimed in. We all gave her a confused look.

What? she said, shrugging sheepishly. "I don’t spend all my time in the woods. I do read."

The bacteria we know as cholera is harmless in its native form, Kelly continued, But there’s a virus that hides inside the bacteria’s DNA. When the bacteria reads its own DNA, the virus tells it to create the cholera toxin.

What’s that got to do with the end of the world? Timothy pried.

The government hired us to develop viruses we could implant in a human being, Kelly said. But for the purpose of enhancing the subject.

Like, speeding up a body’s healing or metabolism, I said, staring at my hands with new understanding. No wonder Jared, a black ops specialist, had one of those experimental vials.

Yes, but Sampson added something else to our work, creating the infection. I don’t have all the details. I do know that after his wife died, he buried himself in his work. He wouldn’t unleash something like this unless he had a means of stopping it, once he gets what he wants. I just have no idea what he’s after, Kelly insisted, folding her arms. You survived the outbreak in New York and General Thompson. You’re my best shot at getting to Sampson before the world gets worse.

Worse? Timothy gawked. How would it get worse?

If the third strain had time to mutate. For example, if its victims were no longer affected by cold, Kelly shot back, pointing at the watch on her wrist. Timothy visibly paled at that thought. The safest place in the world right now is anywhere below freezing, because the infected have no defenses against it. For now.

Say, we do go. What’s the third strain? Sasha asked.

"You’ve noticed there are two variations of this virus,