Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

“Yeah, with Liza and some people. I should go get ready.” I inhale the remainder of my dinner and take my plate to the kitchen. I dressed for the night, shorts and a hoodie. We’re going to see a guy Liza’s crushing on at the skate park. Short on funds I make the decision to hit my dad up for some cash.

I stop outside his office and knock. “Dad?”

No reply. I knock again and push open the door. The room is empty. Thinking there should be some cash in the top drawer, I open it and find a small roll of bills and pull out two tens. I search for a pen and notepad and scribble out a note.

Borrowed $20

IOU

Alex

Placing the sticky on a folder I see the name peeking outside of the file. PharmaCorp Lab Results. Glancing at the door, I flip over the cover with the word CONFIDENTIAL stamped on the front.

At first glance it’s all numbers and letters. Lots of them. But I’m good with figures and patterns and the pieces click together. They are abbreviations for dates and descriptions. The first ones are from months ago—almost a year.

09/14/14 FL (Miami) M-22 –RC Initial symptom 9 p.m. Peak 11:32 DOA

09/23/14 FL (Ft. L) M-19—RC Initial symptom 8 a.m. Peak 10:12 DOA

I skimmed down. Brushing past information on height and weight.

02/18/15 FL (Orlando) F-26—RC Initial symptom 4 p.m. Peak 4:45 DOA

02/18/15 FL (Orlando) M-45-RC Initial symptom 2 a.m. Peak 2:30 DOA

The list went on like this. Dates and times, each one a little closer than the last. At the bottom I found a summary.

Emergency and health care officials have isolated the E-TR parasite in subjects involved in recent, random violent attacks. The parasite was found in the bodies of both the attacker and the victim. Although the subject initially feels a sense of euphoria, the symptoms quickly alter manifesting in an aggressive, aggravated state. Adrenaline levels are exaggerated, allowing for “Super Strength” and then the subject is overwhelmed by rage resulting in cannibalism.

Initial speculation was that these attacks were the result of drug use. There is no evidence to support this. All subjects have tested positive for the (E-TR) parasite. Cases are limited to Florida but moving swiftly up the panhandle, toward the rest of the country.

Early signs include:

Euphoria with a fast shift to anger and aggression.

Extreme strength and speed

Loss of small motor skills

Eyes go from pale and glassy to dark black irises and veiny lines spidering through the whites of the eyes.

Well, what the hell does that mea

n? And holy crap! My dad is working on the cannibal case and never told me! I drop the cover, afraid of getting caught. I’ve been following the news on this. It falls right in line with my love of dystopian, end of the world, conspiracy theory books.

In those books, the government always collapses immediately. The virus moves swift and furious, taking out entire cities in a matter of days. It’s always such a joke, but I’ve read enough books to have a slight case of paranoia.

I glance over the paperwork again. PharmaCorp? Who the hell is that and why is Dad working with them? The good news I guess is they seem to be tracking it closely and my dad is perfect for the job. This isn’t the first time he’s been called in on the subject of infectious diseases, specifically in the Division of Parasitic Diseases. He worked at the CDC for ten years before taking a research job at Duke. He’s an expert in his field. I had to assume he’d let us know if there’s a true danger lurking out there.

I leave the desk like I found it and exit the room with way more questions than when I entered.

Chapter Nine

~Now~

The government didn’t fall. Not all of it, at least. They’re still out there in concentrated efforts trying to solve this puzzle. My dad came close. I press my fingers against the pouch he gave me. Maybe he even solved it.

I cap off the third bottle and stuff them in my pack. An owl hoots as I cross back across the grass. The moon reflects off the fender of an old Ford pickup in the middle of the yard. I swear a shadow moves in the cab and I stop, hand on the hatchet hanging from my belt. I squint to see if I’d made it up.