Escaping Extinction - The Extinction Series Book 5: A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series Read online

  ESCAPING

  EXTINCTION

  The Extinction Series

  Book 5

  By

  Tara Ellis

  Mike Kraus

  © 2021 Muonic Press Inc

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without the permission in writing from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

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  Special Thanks

  Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.

  Thank you!

  EXTINCTION Book 6

  Available Here

  Preface

  An extinction-level-event. When there is a rapid, widespread reduction in the biodiversity of the Earth. The catastrophic collapse of the seafloor into the mysterious realm of the Mohorovicic Discontinuity (MOHO), resulted in a historical hydrovolcanic eruption. In the days that followed, the chain of destruction felt around the world primed the population for the real attack. Released from its primordial layer, an ancient prion disease ravaged those who were left, pushing mankind to the edge of extinction.

  On a mission to chase down the source of the deadly pathogen, marine geophysicist Peta Kelly has nothing left to lose. Against insurmountable odds, she’s risen above the challenges and drawn on a strength she didn’t know still existed. Except, while she’s lived the last several years of her life in a sort of self-imposed exile, she’s come to understand the task in front of her can’t be achieved on her own.

  While her journey to the Libi Nati, a hot spring in a remote location of the Amazon rainforest, has caused Peta to face her demons, a new kind of evil lurks in the depths of the jungle. With a ragtag group of survivors, Peta must pull upon each of their strengths to overcome what could prove to be impossible barriers.

  Tyler Edmonds was an unlikely partner, but the teen has proven his worth several times over the course of their journey the past two weeks. With his mother killed in front of him, he was then later forced to leave his father behind. Stricken with The Kuru, the name assigned the deadly prion disease, his dad clings to life in a remote underground CDC lab, where his only chance to live lies squarely on Tyler and his team.

  Trauma physician and ex-Marine, Jason Hunter, is exactly who you’d want by your side during the apocalypse. Except the ease with which Jason found himself falling back into the role of soldier came with a heavy toll. For years, with the help of his loving German Shepard companion and a few friends, he had battled to regain his soul. The part of him left behind on the streets of Iraq, and buried down under the suffering and grief.

  Jason thought he’d conquered his waking nightmares, but being thrust into the center of the current destruction had made him question his own strengths and abilities. Though he traveled and fought alongside Peta and her crew, his goal was different. Rather than salvation, his responsibility was to the daughter he’d never met. He knew where she was, and in the wake of the annihilation of the world, he’d finally found her.

  Fourteen-year-old Jessica Davies thought she knew her father. After succumbing to the Kra Puru, the local name for the The Kuru infection, her dad woke from his coma a different man. According to the local indigenous tribes, he was the victim of an ancient malevolence that had returned to the Earth several times throughout history to carry out a type of purge. A cleansing of souls.

  While the scientific community narrows down the brain damage caused by the prions responsible for the illness, Jess is confronted with a different kind of proof. Emotionless and uncaring, the man who once loved and sheltered her has turned against Jess and her home on the Libi Nati Preserve. Gathered nearby at a local resort, next to the hot springs, the man she thought was her dad leads the Cured to some sort of unfathomable goal, where the newly emerging race sits in power over those who are left.

  Dr. Madeline “Mads” Schaeffer is one of those purged of the unnecessary feelings she’d been victim to her whole life. And what a life it was.

  Hailed as one of the top geological and marine scientists in the world, her need for power and prestige amongst her peers drove Madeline to play a hand in the endeavor that led to the eruption of the MOHO. At first driven to cover up her role, she was later plagued by guilt as a single disaster progressed into a true global collapse. The Kuru rid her of both, and now her only motivation was to study it. To unlock its secrets and determine what it did to her.

  But The Kuru wasn’t done with Madeline. And as she closes in on the Libi Nati, her true nature is still revealing itself.

  Brought together by unseen forces, those converging on the source of the disease are driven there for different reasons. Whether it be redemption, salvation, love, or power, the balance demanded by nature will obliterate it all.

  Chapter 1

  DAKOTA

  New York City, New York

  Dakota stood staring out the large east-facing window in the family room of her apartment. It was a view she’d paid a lot of money for, and it normally gave her a certain sense of solace. Now, the deteriorating skyline on Manhattan Island only made her stomach churn.

  “The city of dreams,” she whispered, sounding as hollow as she felt.

  Dakota Barns had been an up-and-coming broker for NASDAQ when the bubble she’d carefully created for herself collapsed. The luxury apartment, killer views, and a parking spot worth more than some people’s rent meant nothing anymore. It also revealed that even before the end of the world, she’d been alone.

  There were a couple of acquaintances early on who reached out. A client and CEO at one of the local hospitals sent her a cryptic text on day five of the beginning of The End. Dakota was already home from work after finding the NASDAQ building locked up, which was the first solid implication that the real shit had hit the fan.

  In the text, he’d instructed her to either stock up and shelter in place, or else get out of the city. She
chose option number one. It might have been a mistake, even though she was still alive.

  The sky continued to lighten to the east as the sun rose behind a depressing ash-induced haze. It provided enough light in her open apartment so she wouldn’t need a flashlight, since the power went out earlier that week. Taking a step closer to the glass, Dakota pressed her nose to it and peered down at the empty streets ten stories below. There hadn’t been much movement for the past two days, which was both a relief and also terrifying.

  Aside from the huge earthquake on the west coast, Yellowstone was the next big event that truly impacted the states. Not necessarily in a physical sense, but that was when the panic started. The real panic.

  As Dakota hunkered down, drinking her gourmet coffee and eating an assortment of fatty stress food, she watched increasingly erratic news coverage regarding other catastrophes happening around the world, amid small mentions of an unknown illness popping up.

  Phone systems were overloaded the first couple days, but Dakota managed to get a call through to her family in Montana, before The Kuru outbreak. Her parents lived on a small reservation in the northeastern portion of the state, and Dakota was ashamed to admit she hadn’t been back home for a visit in over three years.

  Dakota closed her eyes, squeezing the tears out and angrily wiped them from her face. She had to stop thinking of her parents in the past tense. Others had survived the plague, or whatever the hell The Kuru was, and there was a chance they did, too. Maybe it was genetic. She was alive, wasn’t she?

  Wasn’t she?

  Dakota moaned and stepped away from the glass. She was out of water and couldn’t spare the tears, so the self-pity would have to stop if she wanted to make it out of the city. Reaching down, she took a firm grip on the handle at the top of her large hiking backpack. It was a fifty-liter with a frame, and was well-used. She managed a small grin at the thought of what her co-workers would have thought to see it on her. She’d done what she needed to in order to build a name and portfolio for herself, but she happily swapped out the high heels for hiking boots whenever she had the chance.

  Two days into her self-imposed lockdown, she briefly considered making a run for her favorite camping spot in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York. Except at that point, she didn’t understand what the real threat was. She thought the eruptions would play themselves out, and the other seismic action in the rest of the world would eventually fade into the background news. She believed the police and military would then get control of the looters and rioters, and restore some order so that NASDAQ could reopen. Dakota had thought she’d be back at her desk in no time.

  The next day, there was yet another historic quake. That time it was in her own state. The low vibrations were felt through the city, and anyone who wasn’t already panicked immediately fell into line.

  Then the tsunamis hit. The last news reports Dakota was able to get off her failing internet service said it happened far out to sea. When it was over, half of Long Island was underwater, and there was devastating damage from Newport down to Virginia Beach.

  Dakota watched the city burn as her supplies ran out. She still went up to the rooftop to congregate with other residents and share whatever news they’d garnered. It wasn’t until day eleven that she noticed the numbers were dwindling and everyone was talking about the disease.

  It was insidious. That was how Dakota would describe The Kuru. It wormed its way in and worked in the dark, underneath the fear and hostility already created by the other forces of nature. By the time the hospitals overflowed and the morgues filled, it was hard to decipher when the scales tipped and the disease became the leading cause of death.

  They went from rooftop meetings to locked doors, and then the smell of rotting flesh in a matter of days.

  It was too much.

  The apartment complex, the city…the whole world was becoming one giant tomb.

  When she finally emerged the day before, the eerie silence was otherworldly. It wasn’t the sound of her city. Her life.

  There were people left. Random strangers staggered around the vacant streets and empty sidewalks, some of them calling out to loved ones they’d never find. She’d also heard signs of on-going violence. Random gunshots, screams, and a car or motorcycle revving in the distance.

  It was time to go. To find her way home and accept whatever fate was waiting for her.

  Dakota hefted the pack into place and felt a reassuring sense of determination and purpose as she snapped the buckle at her waist. Snagging a flashlight off the kitchen counter, she picked up the mask next to it and then walked to the foyer.

  It was Friday. Fifteen days since the MOHO eruption, ten days since she last left her apartment building, and three days since she’d spoken to another person. It was twenty-four-hundred miles to Kalispell, Montana and would normally take her three days to drive. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she’d be able to breeze down the freeway though, and without gas or a clear passage, it could take weeks and a small miracle to reach home.

  Home.

  She hadn’t thought of the res in those terms for a very, very long time. But in her soul, when everything else was stripped away, the truth was laid bare. She was going home.

  When Dakota opened the door and stepped out into the dark hallway, the smell hit her like a physical blow to the gut. Gagging, she almost dropped the flashlight and ducked back inside, but instead fumbled to put her cloth mask into place. It only muted the intensity of the putrid odor, so she squeezed her nose through the mask and squinted, eyes watering, as she ran down the hall.

  As she fled, Dakota heard cries of agony or heartbreak from at least two other apartments. She felt guilty for not stopping. For not seeking out her neighbors and offering to do whatever she could to help. The reality was that there wasn’t anything she could do. It seemed you were either immune or not. No amount of medication, love, or intervention would change the outcome. There were stories of recovery, but it was just as rare as being immune, and there didn’t seem to be any correlation with a treatment. It was all the luck of the draw.

  Staggering into the stairwell, Dakota didn’t feel lucky.

  The parking garage was a blessed escape from the smell of her rotting neighbors, and her mood improved greatly when she saw her car right where it was supposed to be.

  She had roughly a mile to go to reach the Lincoln Tunnel. She detested the underground passageway, but the nearest bridge was over seven miles further, so it wasn’t really an option.

  The first two blocks were clear, and Dakota was beginning to feel more hopeful when she approached the Hell’s Kitchen district. There was increasing damage to the storefronts, and burned-out police cars and other random vehicles littered the intersections. Up ahead, a dumpster had been wheeled out into the middle of the road.

  Dakota turned down a side-street. She hated veering off course, but it was unavoidable.

  Another turn. She was almost back on track, but thick black smoke filled the street ahead. She hadn’t seen or heard any emergency vehicles for over two days, and things were being left to burn freely. Another reason she’d made the decision to leave.

  Two more blocks. Another turn. Glowing embers drifted through the street, turning to black streaks on her windshield as the wipers worked futilely against it.

  Now that she was at ground-level, Dakota could see there were more people outside than she’d realized. Several of them were lying in doorways, others were staggering about. Some were clearly sick, and she imagined The Kuru would take weeks or perhaps longer to fully work its way through the more than eight-million people that lived in New York City. It wouldn’t be until everyone was ferreted out of their burrows that the exposure would be complete. She thought of herself, and how she couldn’t be sure she was one of the Immune.

  “Only one way to find out,” she muttered, gritting her teeth.

  Dakota shook her head at the imagery, and then sucked in a startled breath, slamming on the brakes as a man le
apt out in front of her car. At first, she thought he was ill, or desperate, and only excited to see another living soul out driving.

  Then, she saw the gun.

  “Get out!” he spat, waving the weapon over his head before levelling it at her window.

  Dakota hesitated before throwing the car into reverse and accelerating. The windshield shattered, and she let out an involuntary scream as the safety glass rained down on her. Another shot hit the passenger seat less than three feet from her head before she veered away. As she turned and sped back down the same side street, another parting shot slammed into the back of the car.

  Her breath coming in ragged sobs, Dakota tried to think clearly and get her bearings. She was headed west. Turning down the next road to her right, she reassured herself she was headed in the right direction again.

  Less than half a mile. Another intersection. Remnants of a three-car collision.

  Garbage and debris crunched under her low-profile tires as she eased around it, and she winced at the grating noise when she slowly pushed her way through several rubber garbage totes strewn across the road on the far side.

  Her car sputtered.

  “No,” Dakota breathed, as a random warning light blinked to life. A bullet must have hit something more than just metal. Setting her lips in a firm line, she pressed down harder on the accelerator without even looking at the icon. It didn’t matter what it was. She’d have to get as far as she could.

  That was only three more blocks.

  The sputter turned into a halting chug, and it was then she realized it was the gas. The tank must have been hit. Glancing up at the nearest street sign, she saw she’d made it to West 42nd. Only three blocks to go.

  Stopping, Dakota looked around nervously. So long as she was inside the confines of the vehicle, she felt a certain level of safety. As a breeze ruffled her long, black hair through the missing windshield, she scoffed at her misplaced platitudes. She wouldn’t be safe from either The Kuru, or the people pillaging through the fallout until she was clear of the city.