The Murder Plague: a novel

Murder plague - cells dividing

Being finished now:

Microbiologist Dr. Mae Louise Vicar lived an admirable and hopeful young life until something went horribly wrong in the lab, unleashing a highly contagious engineered virus that attacks the brain, driving people to homicidal rages. As the world devolves into a semi-dystopia of daily mass shootings, Mae-Lou’s best friend Kanetha Wilson and maverick scientist Dr. Mike Andrusek battle with bureaucracy and time to find a way to stop the murder plague.

Excerpt:

The man with the Uzi had taken a gut shot. His yellow “Yellow Dog Tavern,” sleeveless shirt was red from the belly down. His blue cargo shorts were wet. His legs were bloody. Guy marveled for the moment at how the guy had gotten up at all, how he’d managed to finish off the cop, let alone how he now still stood over him like a gloating linebacker. Adrenaline, Guy supposed, as in the stories about men who picked up trucks pinning six-year-old children.

“Nice shot,” Yellow Dog squeaked to Guy. He turned back to the cop. “Loser!”

Yellow Dog gave the cop another burst. The gun reached clicking, empty. Yellow Dog shook it, clicked it again, dropped it. He collapsed to his left knee, and then his right. His power to lift trucks had drained away. Victory drained from his face. He turned to Guy.

“Least we stopped him, eh?”

Yellow dog breathed wrenching, troubled gasps.

“You’ll make it,” Guy said.

“Bull shit.”

“The paramedics will be here soon. We’ll be all right.”

“Bull shit.”

Bull shit probably was right. The sirens had disappeared. Word probably spread back through the dispatcher. Scene not secure. No one else dared come. Not for a while.

Guy took his first long look around and listened. Nothing. Nothing moved. Nobody else crawled, or even moaned. Guy’s lungs involuntarily pulled a deep, filling breath, like a yawn. He released it slowly, deliberately. He looked back at the man. Yellow Dog slumped into a fetal position, grunting.

“Huh!” Yellow Dog said. “Huh.”

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