NEW! Viral Bound

VIRAL BOUND

By Dan Waltz

432 pages
Paperback ISBN 13 978-0974177465
Publisher: DW Publishing

I was diagnosed with cancer just hours before rumors of a cure began circling the globe. Like me, most people were skeptical, while others thanked their lucky stars for such fantastic news. Then, strange things began happening, like thousands of birds falling from the skies and fish going belly-up for no reason. People assumed foul play, but that was quickly dismissed. A secret society with government backing lurked in the shadows while a virus was born. It spread wildly across the planet, unleashing the dead to walk among us. This is when my living nightmare began, and life as I knew it changed forever.

"There is an appointed time for everything, and there is a time for every event under heaven." ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-1 KJV

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Amazon Reviews

*****

 Keeps you intrigued, by RoseK 

This was an excellent book to read! Though there are a lot of zombie books out there but this one has a plot that is different from the rest. The realistic descriptions place you right into the story and the ending is not what you expect! I enjoy a storyline that I can't guess what is going to happen next and this book delivered. I highly recommend this book and even have my husband reading it, he can't put it down!

*****

Couldn't Put The Book Down, by ChristyZ 

Once I started reading this book, I couldn't put it down. That's the only kind of book I will read, one that will hold my attention. This zombie thriller was full of suspense and action with unexpected twists and turns. Even though this was a fictional story, the author included realistic content that makes you wonder if events such as this could really happen. Great read!

****

 This zombie tale will make you believe... it's possible. by Beau Sisson 

Just finished the book. With all of the modern day distractions, it's been awhile since I've taken time to read a book in one session. This was one of those rare stories that pulled me in on page one and kept me there until the end. I highly recommend this book!

*****
Great read! by Shelie R.

Reluctant to buy another zombie novel in such an over flooded market; Viral Bound sounded interesting enough to give it a chance. Halfway expecting more of the same in the genre, I was pleasantly surprised of the originality of the story. Or, shall I say stories as it reads as if several stories are about to unfold. It certainly wasn't just another zombie novel for me. Without giving the story(s) away, it contained real-time messages within the story(s) that makes you really stop and think. "Could this really happen?" The scenes were descriptive enough that made you feel you were there, and quickly moved you along through the book. VB offered twists and turns, humor, romance, conspiracies and a surprise ending to boot. I'm so glad I gave the zombie genre another chance.

More reviews!

Read the Prologue and the first 3 CHAPTERS here....FREE!

PROLOGUE

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven: A time to give birth, and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill and a time to heal; a time to tear down and a time to build up.  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to throw stones, and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace, and a time to shun embracing. A time to search, and a time to give up as lost; a time to keep, and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart, and a time to sew together; a time to be silent, and a time to speak. A time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.” 

~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 KJV

“I’m terribly sorry, Steve, but I’m afraid that you have cancer.” A doctor, dressed in typical doctor garb right down to the white jacket and stethoscope wrapped around his neck, broke the bad news to Steve as he stared him dead in the eye. The doctor was stone-faced as hell, as if he had delivered the same news to thousands of patients hundreds of times before. Or was it hundreds of patients thousands of times before? Whichever the case may be, it was then that Steve’s living nightmare began.

Steve, feeling faint, passed out in the hallway of Atlanta General Hospital. His body fell limp and sank to the floor, hitting his head hard against the brick wall and then again on the tiled floor. His mullet-styled hair mopped up most of the blood that trickled from the gash in the back of his head. It also helped hide the pool forming beneath him and the seriousness of the fall.

Facebook Page: 

A CURE for CANCER FOUND! 

• Like - 650700 

Twitter: Breaking news! “A cure for cancer has been found!” More, as the story develops.

Facebook: Sue Beck

“So I don’t need to quit smoking after all:)?” 

• Like · 1020 people

Facebook: Bob Hickey 

“Honestly, what the hell took you so long?” 

• Like · 4800 people

Facebook: Janet Arnez

“Thank you sweet Jesus. My mother will be saved!” • Like - 18 

Facebook: Tim Thompson

“My father suffers from prostate cancer. You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you.” 

• Like  - 178 people

Facebook: Cindy McKinley

“A little too late for my mother. She died of lung cancer last week.” • Like - 0

Twitter:  Matt Calhound

“So where do we get this amazing drug?”

Facebook: Sabrina Catcher

“Cure for cancer, really? Where were you a month ago when my mother died?” 

• Like  - 0

“A Cure for CANCER found!”  This was the most popular headline that read on newspapers and blogs across the country, as well as the world. On January 01, 2012, the day that would go down in history as the day that “the world as it once was” changed for everyone.

Thousands of blog posts and nonstop tweets on Twitter were a daily occurrence. A page on Facebook with the same title instantly received thousands of posts and “Likes” every hour.

Thousands of people were posting what kind of cancer that they or a loved one has or once had, and how thankful they were for such spectacular news. But some posts weren’t so grateful at all. Some wallowed in resentment, bemoaning “too little, too late.” Obviously their loved ones had already passed away from this dreaded disease. Some posts were filled with sarcasm as if it were too good to be true. Most posts were filled with questions, asking how, when, or where cancer patients could get this miracle drug. Every question seemed ignored and went unanswered, buried in a sea of comments.

No one seemed to know anything about the supposed cure or even how word about it had gotten out in the first place. National NEWS kept reporting the same story over and over again, as if there were no other news to report. The ticker scrolled at the bottom of the screen, repeating, “A cure for cancer found, more on tonight’s special newscast” – a newscast that eventually was canceled due to a lack of information.

Answers could not be found anywhere, and the creators of Facebook and Twitter weren’t revealing who was behind the original posts about the cure. They, possibly the only ones who would know, who started this chaos.

Some suspected the claims about the cure were false, blaming ugly rumors and foul play. “How dare people get others’ hopes up like that,” some cried. “They’re playing with people’s minds, for God’s sake.”

But many still believed the cure had been found. The religious thanked their gods, while the atheistic simply thanked their lucky stars for a dream-come-true.

It was, in fact, true, wasn’t it? No one would post anything like that if it weren’t, would they?

Was there really a cure for cancer? That was the multi-billion-dollar question. As for Dr. Scott Selmer, he believed with all his heart the cure had really been found.

Facebook: McOzy Maryland Cozwell

“I lost my 7-year-old daughter to leukemia last year. Thanks, but no thanks.” • Like 0

Facebook: Donald Wakefield

“If you were interested in the public good, you would post the cure, not the discovery. Otherwise, I think you’re selling it. Someone you love will die needlessly because of the delay.” • Like 89

Facebook: Crazy Larry

“Now I can do all the things bad for me.” • Like 66

Facebook: Sharon Smith

“Why now? Are your patents expiring? I’ve always been a skeptic about the entire healthcare field.” • Like 19

Facebook: The Ribbon Cutters

“Cancer is a necessary evil.” • Like 0

Facebook: Dirk Williams

“Hurray! I can finally eat what I want, drink what want, and almost smoke what I want. Two out three ain’t bad.” • Like 4320

Facebook:  California Sunshine

“I am so thankful that there is finally something that stopped/cured cancer. I have lost family members to it, and because I lived in Los Angeles for 32 years, I often wondered if the air that I breathed would be the end of me. Now let’s fix the AIDS problem!” • Like 1244

Facebook:  CandyApples Candi Appleton 

“Thank God and all the doctors for everyday miracles; now if they could find a cure for war!” • Like 1333

Facebook:  George Currier

“If it had only come a year sooner, I would not have lost five good friends. I know several others maimed from chemo and radiation, drastically limiting their quality of life.” • Like 974

Facebook: Adam Sales 

“Everything related to cancer treatments are one big lie ... always has been; it’s always been about PROFIT. Make money off DISEASE.” • Like 3203

Twitter: Glenn Bradshaw

“It’s about damn time! I can hardly pee.”

Twitter:  Timothy Sutton

“Does anyone know how this whole thing got started?”

Facebook: Tom Glenwood

“Why isn’t anyone answering any of the questions? Hello? Is anyone there?” • Like 209

Facebook: Dr. Frank Steinbek

“Only time will tell if the cure itself causes yet another medical affliction caused by man.” • Like 678

Twitter: MAChound

“So where do we get this amazing drug? Anybody?” • Like 5677

     Dr. Scott Selmer was a family man with his first grandchild on the way. He was a 10-year veteran of modern medicine, specializing in virology. He graduated with highest honors, at the top of his class. With those credentials and more, plus a little help from some powerful friends of the family, he quickly worked his way up the food chain and landed a cushy job overseeing a small lab at a subsidiary of one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world.

The lab, based in South America, was where researchers developed medications to help people around the world live more painless and happier lives. What would the world be without painkillers and Prozac? 

Some would have considered Selmer a hero for taking away all the pain and suffering humankind once knew, all with one little pill. The world owed Selmer a great deal of gratitude for all of his award-winning hard work, dedication, and accomplishments over the years.

Selmer had grave concerns over the latest news, though – news that had spread like wildfire, only faster. The same news that headlined every newspaper and magazine on the planet. The news about “The Cure for Cancer.” He had concerns for his job, for one, and his family, for another. But more importantly, he had grave concerns for the future of the United States and what a cure like this could do to his country.

Selmer truly believed that a cure for cancer would bring an end to life, as everyone knew it. He believed that the economy would tank, believe it or not, worse than it already had. The job market could not possibly accommodate the approximately 1,500 more people per day who, without this cure, would have – should have – died from some type of cancer or another. The unemployment system was not prepared to provide for them either.

If that wasn’t bad enough, what about the millions of physicians, scientists, nurses, morticians, lab, and pharmaceutical employees who would lose their jobs? The list would go on and on. What would they do for work? There would be hospitals, pharmacies, labs, funeral parlors, and research facilities closing down across America and all over the world. Cemeteries would not have the funds to maintain their grounds. Funeral homes would have to look for creative ways to stay afloat by possibly opening their beautiful parlors to wedding ceremonies and banquets when fewer people were dying, and they assuredly would. Who would want to get married and buried at the same place?

After all, cancer accounts for the majority of deaths in the United States and abroad. Flower shops and nurseries would probably close their doors. Most of their business went to the dead. Prescription drugs would skyrocket in price as the pharmaceutical companies attempted to stay in business, which would send health insurance premiums through the roof.  And, let’s not forget about the trickle down effect. With so many more people out of work, few would be spending money at stores, let alone buying new cars and appliances. There would be layoffs and closings beyond anyone’s imagination.

Mass panic would ensue. And who would be able to pay for this magical drug? Who would pay for patients who simply couldn’t afford it? Would the government foot the bill and raise taxes? What about coverage? Insurance? Medicaid? Or would society just let the unprivileged die while others, possibly sharing the same hospital room, were cured of this terrible disease simply because one had money and the other did not? 

While collapsing the economy, could this also cause riots? What about natural resources? Would there be enough food? Enough gas? Enough oil? With fewer people dying and more people living longer, could the Earth provide enough resources to go around, and, if so, for how long? Scientists have estimated that the Earth can only provide for about 12 billion people. The population was already at 7 billion. Without cancer, how much time would it take to reach or exceed 12?

Most people were too blinded by the news of the cure to worry about any repercussions, but not Dr. Scott Selmer.

Could all this really happen? Yes? No? Maybe? Who the hell knows? In Selmer’s eyes, it most definitely and assuredly would.

Selmer was not the type to just sit back and watch things happen. He didn’t ascend to the top of his profession just by sitting back and watching what others accomplished. Sure, he had help, but he was also very good at what he did. He had a family to think about and a grandchild on the way. Their future was at stake. He had to do something about it. 

And something about it he certainly did.

•••

CHAPTER 1

A young man in his early 30s got ready to leave a country bar at 2:30 in the morning.  The man stretched his neck as far as he could as he tried exiting the car with a final kiss. Falling backward out of the backseat of the car, he heard giggles as his bare ass smacked hard against the black pavement. He felt no pain, even though sharp gravel pitted his buttocks and the palms of his hands when he landed. He stumbled to his feet, brushed his ass off, sending gravel in both directions before he pulled up his pants, zipped up his fly, and staggered across the maintenance-deprived parking lot. He then mounted his sunburst-yellow crotch rocket.

  The young man fumbled with his keys, dropping them once, no, twice on the pavement before successfully guiding the right key into the ignition and starting the bike. He shoved his helmet on over his ears, fastened the strap under his chin, and gripped the clutch. He revved the engine twice before taking off like there was no tomorrow. He had no clue just how true that cliché was at the time.

Steve, the man on the bike, left drunk but no drunker than usual, as he’d made this trip many times in worse condition. He frequented this dive several times each week to take advantage of the cheap beer and the trashy women who hung out there. A mint 1974 GTO was parked in Steve’s garage, restored by himself, but he chose the bike so he didn’t have to take the bimbos home at the end of the night.

While at the bar, Steve usually got what he came for, and it was usually in the back seat of the girl’s car or out in the field behind the Dumpsters. He didn’t care where, and the girls were usually too far wasted to know any better. 

The bar, considered a dive by most, was located out in the country about 15 miles west of the nearest town, Bear Creek. Its surroundings were nothing but farmland, mainly cornfields, beans, and acres upon acres of woods. For the most part, the biker’s biggest hazard at this time of night were animals crossing in front of him, mainly deer, fox, coons, and an occasional skunk. Oh, how he would regret the nights the skunks appeared, but so far he’d been pretty lucky. He’d only had a couple of near misses and one or two skunks in his many years of visiting this fine establishment.

Steve traveled east toward town. He usually slowed down as he passed through town, but not this time. This time, his mind was preoccupied with earlier events. A brief smile appeared on his face as images of Sarah in the backseat of her car flashed through his mind. This was the first time with Sarah and, for all he knew, probably the last.

Sarah wasn’t a regular at the bar, yet no other had the effect on him that she had. “This girl was dangerous,” he thought. He could get too into her. His heart could be broken, and he constantly fought to prevent that. His walls went up and quickly wiped her from his mind, replacing images of her with clutter and worry. He was running a little late, much later than usual. 

Steve was worried about getting home and getting some rest before work the next morning. For Steve, it was already the next morning, and he had to be at the garage where he worked as a mechanic in just a few hours. He leaned into the handlebars and jumped on the gas.

Steve was not just an average mechanic. He was quite exceptional. He could have made a decent living in a different town. But here in Bear Creek, out in the middle of Nowheresville, where the average income was well below the poverty level, he barely scraped by and pretty much spent every dime he made and then some. Unfortunately, he pissed away most of what he made in booze.

Steve approached the small town at about 90 mph, and when the speed limit changed from rural 55 mph to city 25 mph, his speedometer hardly fluttered. He didn’t lay off the gas, and he didn’t pull in the clutch. He just turned off his headlights and sailed straight through. In fact, he rode so fast that he didn’t even notice cutting off another driver at the curve. He was clean out of sight when that car lost control, jumped the curb, and slammed head-on into a nearby building. It was a crash that could be heard for miles if people were actually awake at that hour. Steve, on the other hand, with his helmet on and the radio blasting in his ears, didn’t hear a sound.

•••

CHAPTER 2

NZ—NZ—NZ—NZ, the audible alarm sounded. Lights glared, sirens pierced the air, and the sweet smell of burning antifreeze quickly filled the air shortly after the car crashed into a solid-brick building.

Rescue workers wasted no time extracting a young girl from the completely totaled wreckage and transported her to the nearest emergency room. The car, a maroon 1997 Chevy Monte Carlo, lay empty, sticking halfway in and halfway out of a privately owned laboratory. The girl, for the moment dubbed Jane Doe, as emergency crews found no identification on her, was alive but barely. For the type of injuries she suffered, an airlift was necessary, if she had any chance of living at all. The local hospital quickly called for a helicopter to transfer her to the metropolitan hospital an hour away by air.

Emergency services wasted no time getting to the scene of the accident, as the municipal offices were just a little more than a mile away. The sound of the accident had been heard from there, as well as the 24-hour donut shop just down the road. The electricity at the popular police hangout flickered off and then back on again from the car deflecting off a power pole right before striking the brick building.

Hitting the pole had slowed the car, possibly saving the young girl’s life. The brick building she’d hit still had power, but it was quickly cut when the emergency workers arrived, in fear of fire breaking out. Some of the wall sockets and switches had already begun smoking.

The privately owned laboratory inside the building was equipped with both silent and audible alarms for break-ins or fires. The ceiling’s sprinkler system was already dispersing water, sensing the steam and smoke pouring from the car’s hood and from the arcing electrical wires in the damaged wall.

The owner of the laboratory arrived shortly after the ambulance had departed with the unconscious girl. The professor quickly scurried around the demolished car, assessing the damage with the beam from his mini-Maglight that he kept in his lab coat pocket. He peered inside the car as he shuffled by.

“Oh my god,” the professor said as he cringed, looking at the blood splattered in all directions. The car appeared to have a faulty airbag that failed to do what it was designed to do. The windshield was smashed from both directions, from the driver’s head hitting it from the inside and from the bombardment of bricks crashing down upon it on the outside. There was no doubt in the professor’s mind that whoever had been driving this car probably wouldn’t make it to the hospital alive.

Steam still rose up from the car’s hood and fogged the main room of the lab, making it a bit of a challenge to see and difficult to breathe. Squinting, the professor looked around, following the beam of the flashlight. Battery-powered emergency lights above the doors helped a bit but were mainly just illuminating the exits. Water sprayed down from the sprinklers above, drenching the professor as he carefully walked through the room. Shards of glass glistened everywhere the professor looked as the beam of light fell upon them. Shattered test tubes and beakers and overturned tables filled the flashlight’s path.

The beam of light abruptly stopped when the professor spotted something that disturbed him greatly. The lab cages, which lined the exterior wall, were knocked down, some crushed and bent to hell as bricks had rained down upon them. Others had traveled a great distance, airborne from the impact, and slammed hard against the wall on the opposite side of the room, taking out anything in their path. The professor found cage after cage, most in complete shambles, tossed about as if caught in a cyclone.

Inside each cage the professor found dead mouse after dead mouse, and dead lab rat after dead lab rat. His heart broke and sank deep in his chest when he thought of the months of hard work and research that had just been lost. He had been only weeks away from finishing many of the projects in progress. Then he came across a few more cages that lay mangled on the floor. They appeared to be intertwined with one another. Tags on the cages indicated their level of importance and of potential danger. These were the highest, and among the worst, in that order. One had a dead lab rat lying just outside what was left of its wire frame. The rat appeared to be partially eaten, presumably by one of the two rats that were housed in the two adjacent cages, which lay empty on the floor. The professor quickly became nervous, edgy, and extremely anxious after confirming the tags on the cages, and the tag piercing the partially eaten rat’s ear.

The professor started rambling to himself, “Oh no, no. This can’t be.” He looked in all directions and constantly backed into things, knocking them to the floor as he tried to make his way out of the dark lab as quickly as he could. He stared down at the floor and spotted what appeared to be a microscope and its accompanying slides and cultured trays used for growing cells. Steam or smoke was rising from some of the trays and from the slides spread across the floor. A beaker, filled with who-knows-what, was tipped over on the table, dripping its contents onto the items below and causing some unknown chemical to flee airborne. The wide-eyed professor quickly grabbed a handkerchief from his lab coat, covered his nose and mouth, and continued to evacuate the room as quickly as he could. He started shaking and sweating profusely. For the first time, the thought of being sent to prison for not reporting some of his findings to the Centers for Disease Control, entered his mind. Confused and not knowing what to do, he stumbled his way into his office.

The professor grabbed his laptop and travel bag from the closet. He quickly filled the bag with a few items from his desk and from one of the tables, being very careful not to take the handkerchief away from his face. He then grabbed a small box from the mini-refrigerator and stuck it in his travel bag as well. The box contained samples that he didn’t care for the authorities to see.

The professor made his way to exit the building, avoiding the officials talking in the next room. The only way out without being seen was the way he had come in. He squeezed back through the hole in the wall next to the car, stumbling over loose debris and glass. A shard of broken glass from the car’s headlamp snagged the hem of his lab coat as he passed. He tugged on the coat, tearing it on the sharp glass. He glanced briefly at the car’s license plate, making a mental note of its number as he left. 

The professor loaded his bag into his car and drove around the block to an alleyway. He pulled up alongside a Dumpster and took the small box from his bag and tossed it in before leaving for who-knows-where.

•••

CHAPTER 3

Steve pulled his bike up the drive and parked it in his garage next to the GTO. He stroked the car’s fender as he walked by as if it was his pride and joy, and it was. All the blood, sweat, and tears shed in laboring over the car to restore it to mint condition had certainly paid off. It was truly something to see.

He quickly stripped off his clothes, jumped in the shower, and headed off to bed right after, without a care in the world. Steve was grinning from ear to ear as he reminisced about the events of the evening. He couldn’t keep his mind off her.

Steve fell fast asleep shortly after his head hit the pillow, not even waiting for his hair to dry. Minutes later, he was awakened by a low-flying helicopter. The rotor blades pounded the cool morning air, vibrating the windows of Steve’s home. He cursed, rolled over, squeezed his pillow down over his aching head, and quickly fell back to sleep. Another half-hour passed and he was awakened once again by the window rattling above his head. It was the same helicopter flying the return trip. Little did Steve know that it was a medical helicopter, and its only cargo was the driver of the car he had cut off, not much more than an hour earlier.

Two hours later, Steve was startled once again, but this time by his alarm clock. It was time for work. Steve slammed his hand on the snooze button, rolled over, and was off to sleep again only to be awakened nine minutes later when his alarm sounded again. Once again, Steve hit the snooze.

“Damn it! What a frickin’ night,” Steve said as the alarm sounded for the fourth time. He threw off his pillow, kicked down his sheets and sat up on the edge of the bed, hanging his head wearily. He thought about calling in sick. This thought soon evaporated from his mind when nature started calling. He stumbled out of bed, buck- naked and with clear signs of a hangover.

Steve walked out from the bathroom a minute later, sporting a lit cigarette drooping from his lips. He grabbed the daily newspaper from his porch and the TV remote from the table, and flipped the TV set on to catch some local news. He listened as he made his way back to the bathroom to get ready for work. His subconscious mind was hard at work as most of his actions were done without a thought and with his eyes closed. Like most people, he was caught up in his morning routine.

Now standing in his boxers, he dragged a comb through his hair while watching the morning news. This was when he first learned of a near-fatal accident downtown in the wee hours of the morning. 

“That’s funny, I didn’t see anything on the road last night, and I drove right through there,” he thought aloud. Steve clicked off the set with the remote, slid into his pants, and stepped into his shoes, all in one smooth move. He then struggled to pull his shirt over his head, refusing to let go of his cigarette. He grabbed his helmet off the dresser and hurried to his bike.

He tried to push his helmet on over his head, but he failed to complete the task. The pressure of his hangover was far too great, so he fastened the helmet to the side of the bike and drove off like a bat out of hell. He clipped the curb at the end of the drive, sending the bike airborne a few feet before coming to rest. The tires screeched when they hit the pavement. Steve would be fashionably late once again, just one of many bad habits that he possessed.

•••