Syndrome
Apocalypsis Immortuos, Volume 1
Marco de Hoogh
Published by Marco de Hoogh, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 By Marco de Hoogh
Cover design © 2020 By Michael Dargie
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Syndrome (Apocalypsis Immortuos, #1)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Epilogue
Chapter Sixty-three
About the Author
Dedication
This book represents over two years of off again, on again effort. Or is that supposed to be on again, off again? Thank you to my wonderful family for helping me realize that writing is my passion and pushing my switch firmly into the ‘on’ position! Thank you for supporting me through those many evenings and weekends as I plugged away at this thing…
Carmen, Johan, Logan: Thank you. I love you.
I also wish to thank my beta readers for their feedback and support. Connie Genert, Stephen Weis, Lowie Sierat, Craig Douglas, Anita Morison, Inge Verkley, and Dirk Maasmans: You gave me the confidence to take the leap!
Thank you to the incredibly talented Michael Dargie for the great cover.
Finally, I want to thank you, reader. I want to thank you for giving this book a chance. I truly hope you enjoy it and freely welcome your thoughts and feedback, as well as your insults and praise.
“I SEE IN THE NEAR FUTURE a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me to tremble for the safety of my country. ... Corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands and the Republic is destroyed.”
Abraham Lincoln
Chapter One
Emily
October 28, 10:15 A.M.
‘WHUMP’
Several pairs of eyes watched as something bounced off the front bumper of the bus and spun away to the side. The next thing that the passengers heard, was the sound of the bus revving loudly, the driver involuntarily hitting the gas and speeding away from the accident. It all happened in a flash, the body little more than a blur as it propelled away.
“Nice driving, English.” Sergeant Peters’ voice betrayed little emotion. He was standing in the aisle-way behind Emily, hanging on to the pole behind her right shoulder with a white-fingered grip. Emily Hill wasn’t sure if the comment was meant sarcastically or not. To her it felt like sarcasm... The bus continued to travel down the inner-city street, sticking to the left side of the road.
“Wrong side.” Peters said. “But I guess you’re used to driving on the wrong side, eh?” It wasn’t really a question. Peters was nervous and just commenting for the sake of it.
The jibe fell on deaf ears anyway. Emily had no response. She did not even shift her eyes from the road in front of her. Her jaw was clenched as she gritted her teeth in concentration. Besides. He was right. Emily was used to driving on the left side of the road. She was English, after all.
Also, she was nervous as shit. And freaked out too, for that matter.
Before the bus had gone two more blocks, another person stepped into the road. There was no room to maneuver in the downtown street and avoid another collision.
“Brace!” One of the soldiers called out as the bus bore down on the figure.
It’s a girl. Just a child...
Just before impact, the girl raised her head and looked right at Emily. Her eyes were unnaturally wide-open, as was her mouth, which was drawn into an exaggerated “o” shape. It gave the girl a look of shock, but Emily knew that this was not a reflection of emotions. It was just what these things looked like. And it was utterly horrifying.
With a hollow ‘bonk’ sound, the bus hit and then ran over the girl. One of the back tires caught the body and the bus jumped slightly. It felt a bit like taking a speed bump too fast.
“God damn it woman! Are you trying to crash this thing?” Peters was not really angry. Were Emily to turn back and face him, she would see the rictus grimace betraying the fear and disgust he felt.
Emily did not respond. Instead, she continued to focus on the road ahead. For a moment, her focus shifted from distant to near. From the cars and buildings ahead of her to the windshield a couple of feet from her face. There was a drop of dark red blood running down the windscreen.
Oh my god... Emily closed her eyes for a second. She inhaled and exhaled through her nose and opened her eyes again as she gathered herself.
The bus drove on. The next minute was spent in relative silence. The downtown streets were nearly empty of cars, and the ones that remained were not moving.
Just those ... things to look out for. Those ‘things’ used to be people. People that were infected somehow. People that suffered the pains of the syndrome. Then seemingly died.
Nobody was quite sure of that.
What was sure though was that some of these
