THE VERMILION STRAIN
POST-APOCALYPTIC EXTINCTION
S.A. ISON
The Vermilion Strain Post-Apocalyptic Extinction
Copyright © 2019 by S.A. Ison All rights reserved.
Book Design by Elizabeth Mackey
Book Edited by Ronald Ison Esq. Editing Services
All rights Reserved. Except as under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without prior written permission of S.A. Ison
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the production of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons – living or dead- is entirely coincidental.
OTHER BOOKS BY S.A. ISON
BLACK SOUL RISING From the Taldano Files
INOCULATION ZERO Welcome to the Stone Age
Book 1
INOCULATION ZERO Welcome to the Age of War
Book 2
EMP ANTEDILUVIAN PURGE
Book 1
EMP ANTEDILUVIAN FEAR
Book 2
EMP ANTEDILUVIAN COURAGE Book 3
POSEIDON RUSSIAN DOOMSDAY
Book 1
POSEIDON RUBBLE AND ASH
Book 2
EMP PRIMEVAL
PUSHED BACK A TIME TRAVELER’S JOURNAL
Book 1
THE RECALCITRANT ASSASSIN
BREAKING NEWS
THE LONG WALK HOME
EMP DESOLATION
FUTURE RELEASES
SMOKEHOUSE SMILES From the Taldano Files
PUSHED BACK THE TIME TRAVELER’S DAUGHTERS
Book 2
OUT OF THE FRYING PAN
A BONE TO PICK
THE HIVE
SHATTERED MIND
Other books by S.A. Ison under the name: Stefany White
Dragon’s Fortune
Alaskan Heat
The Seeding
Future Releases
The Butler Did It
Little White Lies
For Billie Jo,
Thank you for reading my works and your enthusiasm
♥
ONE
Brian Philips held his dying wife, Christa, in his arms. She was drenched in sweat and blood. He smoothed back her hair. The scent of sour death was near, mixed with the coppery diarrhea. Her eyes were nearly black with blood and she was blind, Brian knew she wasn’t cognizant of his presence. It was god awful; their bed was saturated with blood and bloody diarrhea. She’d beaten breast cancer, only to be struck down by this egregious virus. EV-01-H, that designation was just handed down by the CDC in Atlanta, so swift was this bio-weapon. Brian was sure it had to be a bio-weapon. Be it China, North Korea, or the Middle East, it didn’t matter to him, with his wife in his arms.
Christa was bleeding out and he could do nothing to stop it. The hospitals had closed their doors, Lancaster was nearly a ghost town at this point. He wondered how the Amish fared, and wondered if they’d closed ranks. Since it was still unknown how the virus was spread, he thought that the Amish had a fifty-fifty chance of staying clear of it, since they were a closed community, then again, they didn’t use most modern medicines. Not that medicine could help any of them.
He’d gone out yesterday, trying to get supplies. The stores were empty of people, the shelves full. Brain knew the power would eventually go, there were fewer people now. He was sure the power stations and electrical grids were running on auto. When it came time, even that would stop. He had a whole house generator, but that would only last so long. If he used it a few hours a day, it would last longer. His mind was clicking away at all the scenarios ahead. He’d had nothing but time to think as he held his dying wife.
He’d taken his RAM truck, which had an extended bed and he took advantage of the storage room in the extended bed. He’d stopped at several gas stations, confiscating the five-gallon gas cans and filled them up. He’d filled the back of his truck with the cans, packing them neatly. He then topped off his tank, as well. He’d added fuel additive to extend the life of the gas, though he was sure he’d go through it quick enough. He was a firefighter, or had been a firefighter, only weeks before, he knew how to be prepared, or thought he did, until the Vermilion Strain.
His eyes flew to Christa’s chest, it had stopped moving, the wet rattling sound of her lungs had stopped. The room was eerily quiet, his harsh breathing the only sound. He wanted to weep, but his face felt oddly numb. His brain was numb as well. He smoothed back the bloody hair from her face, her eyes unseeing and vacant, a void where wonderful animation had once been. Christa’s face was speckled with petechial hemorrhaging, as was the rest of her body. His wife had been, what his mother called, high yellow, very fair skin for a black woman. Her skin was now nearly as dark as his own. Her skin was now the color of vermilion, hence the nickname of the EV-01-H. He imagined that someone white, would be a crimson color or a deeper shade of vermilion.
Brian felt the warmth of tears sliding down his face, he’d not even been aware that he was weeping. He sighed heavily and laid his wife down gently. His large hand gently shut her eyes. He stood up from the bed, using his forearm to wipe his face. He walked through the quiet house and into the attached garage. He found a shovel and headed out to the back yard.
He paused by the row of roses; his wife had planted them years before. Pumpkin roses, she’d called them. The color of pumpkins they were her pride and joy. A soft, sad smile creased his face. He wiped absently at the tears. A shuddering sigh rippled through him, feeling his heart break, he bent to the task of digging a grave by the roses, knowing Christa would want to rest there. It was mid-morning and the day was already heating up. The world was silent around him and only his heavy breathing kept him company.
