{"id":3766,"date":"2019-02-23T16:48:53","date_gmt":"2019-02-24T00:48:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/?p=3766"},"modified":"2019-02-24T18:38:23","modified_gmt":"2019-02-25T02:38:23","slug":"antidote-red-plague-2-chapter-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/?p=3766","title":{"rendered":"Antidote (Red Plague #2) Chapter One"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Enjoy this free sneak peek of Antidote’s 1st chapter!<\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Antidote<\/em><\/a> (Red Plague #2)<\/em><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Copyright 2014 by Anna Abner<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Back Cover Blurb:<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The red plague has devastated the human race, turning billions of people into zombies with red eyes and an insatiable hunger for human flesh.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The only known cure to the 212R virus is locked inside of Ben Sawyer. To get it out, seventeen-year-old Maya Solomon and a group of survivors will take him on a journey to what may be the last bastion of human civilization, Camp Carson, Virginia.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter One<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaya!\u201d Pollard made a hard right, the RV bounced over a median, and I held Ben even tighter. \u201cHe\u2019s a zombie. Back off.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe injected the cure,\u201d I argued. \u201cHe\u2019s not a zombie anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know that!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe said my name,\u201d I stated, still rocked by the memory of my name on his lips. I\u2019d never heard a red-eyed infected person speak. No one had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt the pulse at his throat and was rewarded with a strong thrumming against the pads of my fingers. Like plucking a bass guitar. His forehead, gritty beneath my palm, radiated heat. The fever had come on fast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo we have Tylenol?\u201d I called out. I didn\u2019t even possess a proper first-aid kit. And there were so many other things that could go wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot that I know of,\u201d Pollard answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t even sure if a fever was normal in a person infected with 212R, the zombie virus. Maybe he\u2019d had one all along.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can do this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had never done this. Over winter break I\u2019d volunteered at St. Joseph\u2019s Hospital to make my dad, the chemist with two medical degrees, happy. I had alternated between stocking supplies my manager re-organized after I went home\u2014which was awful\u2014and trailing actual nurses as they did their work\u2014which was awesome. One LPN used to narrate every single thing she did, from inserting IVs to checking blood pressures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But none of it had prepared me for this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere are we going?\u201d I asked. If we found a hospital or a clinic I might be able to scrounge medical supplies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAway from this nightmare,\u201d Pollard said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Away from the flaming remains of my dad\u2019s CDC lab. Away from anything he\u2019d made or left behind. All that was left of his work coursed through Ben\u2019s veins and nowhere else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As gently as possible, I unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt and peeled the dark navy fabric away from his skin to inspect the gunshot wound. A dime-sized hole, surrounded by angry swollen flesh, stared back at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I replaced his shirt and something like rough paper in his breast pocket, the one over his heart, stalled my fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pulled out a wallet-sized school photo and immediately dropped it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCrap.\u201d Fumbling, I picked it up off the RV\u2019s dirty linoleum floor and stared into my own face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To be certain, I flipped it over and my narrow, jagged signature adorned the back. Last Christmas I\u2019d mailed the photo inside a care package to my brother Mason. It had been addressed to the Dogwood Juvenile Detention Center in Raleigh, North Carolina.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But if I\u2019d mailed it to Mason, how had it ended up in Ben\u2019s shirt?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHang on to something,\u201d Pollard called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stuffed the pic into my pocket. If Pollard or Hunny asked questions about it, I had no answers, yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tested Ben\u2019s pulse again, this time the one at his wrist, just to be sure it still beat. But my touch jumpstarted a chain reaction. His fingers twitched, and then the tremors spread to his arms and legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, no,\u201d I cried out. His legs spasmed and his head knocked against my belly and thighs. Hard. \u201cBen? Can you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fear twisted my insides into origami as I held him through full body convulsions. Finally, his muscles quieted. I checked and re-checked his pulse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d Pollard shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe medicine made him sick.\u201d Understatement. More likely, it had poisoned him and his internal organs were failing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not going to die,\u201d I whispered as his seizure faded to a few quivers in his hands. Not with my father\u2019s only remaining elixir in his blood. \u201cI\u2019ll take care of you.\u201d Whatever he needed. A bath. Decent clothes. Soft blankets and a pillow. How long had it been since he\u2019d slept on a pillow? If he needed medicine, I\u2019d find it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wanted to take care of him. Because with my father\u2019s antiserum in his veins, he felt a whole lot like family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I didn\u2019t have much family left. My gaze wandered across the interior of the RV from Hunny\u2019s blonde ringlets to the back of Pollard\u2019s head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pollard cursed loudly, clipping the rear end of a compact car and sending it spinning away. The RV swayed to the left and I knocked into the mini fridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI noticed the neighborhoods are less crowded than the highways,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On our two-day trip into downtown Raleigh, we\u2019d stuck to major thoroughfares and been slowed down at every turn. Nothing but streets bottlenecked with abandoned vehicles, packs of red zombies, and overzealous snipers. I glanced down at Ben\u2019s dirty face. He\u2019d be a major hindrance if we were forced to change vehicles, or worse, walk part of the way back to the truck stop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet the map out,\u201d Pollard said. \u201cPlease?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He swerved around debris, and it felt like the RV went up on two wheels for a moment, sending my stomach into a tailspin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHunny,\u201d I called. \u201cIt\u2019s in my backpack.\u201d I was afraid to move. Afraid to jostle Ben, even a little bit, and maybe hurt him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shifted, positioning his head on my lap, and cupped the side of his face. To keep him still. To reassure myself he was still breathing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little girl, ringlets bouncing, leapt over the unconscious Red and rifled through my pack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere,\u201d she said, returning to the front of the RV and handing the paper to Pollard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSpread it out,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m not stopping this thing. Not for a single minute. It\u2019s too crazy out there.\u201d To prove his point, he waved at something on the other side of the extra-tall windshield. \u201cYou see that pack of zombies? Must be twenty-five of them.\u201d As we passed the pack by bouncing onto the sidewalk, Pollard checked the side mirrors. \u201cAnd now they\u2019re running after us.\u201d He caught my eye over his shoulder. \u201cWe\u2019re gonna get out of here,\u201d he said, his usually pretty blue eyes steely with resolve. \u201cI promise you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With the map unfolded and laid out on the dash, he pointed at different sites. \u201cWe\u2019re about here.\u201d He glanced up and turned the wheel to avoid a decorative brick wall around someone\u2019s front yard. \u201cWe\u2019re going west through the suburbs,\u201d he announced, nodding as if convincing himself as well as us. \u201cThen we\u2019ll turn south and come up on the truck stop from the back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt took two days to get here the first time,\u201d I reminded him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not going to take that long.\u201d He smiled reassuringly at me in the rearview mirror. \u201cOn a good day I can drive there in twenty minutes. So\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But since 212R had ravaged the human race, changing over ninety-nine percent of us into flesh-eating monsters, time seemed to pass differently. What had once taken a few minutes now took hours when you factored in the loss of electricity and scavenging for gas and hiding from Reds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust hurry,\u201d I added unnecessarily. \u201cWe need a safe place to stop and regroup.\u201d To process the sight of my dad\u2019s empty and looted lab. Or the fire. Or Ben\u2019s injecting what I hoped was the antiserum. Or his saying my name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pollard was right. As soon as he passed through the heart of the city, there were fewer parked vehicles, less random debris, fewer Reds. He rolled over streets, driveways, access lanes, and sometimes even sidewalks and front lawns to keep us moving in the right direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaya?\u201d Hunny climbed out of the passenger seat and stepped tentatively down the narrow walkway between the gas range and the dining table. \u201cI saw snacks in your pack. Can I have some?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t remember what was in there. \u201cOf course.\u201d Then I recalled another helpful item I\u2019d collected along the way. \u201cAnd grab the baby wipes, will you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she crept as far as Ben\u2019s boot and then hesitated. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wiggled a little, changing positions, but kept his head in my lap. He didn\u2019t react, just continued sleeping against me. \u201cHe injected the antiserum to 212R.\u201d At least I hoped it was the antiserum. If it wasn\u2019t, he may have ruined everything by injecting himself with poison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hunny scrunched her nose. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe took the cure,\u201d I said. \u201cBut probably the wrong dose. It\u2019s making him sick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her green eyes traveled up his body from his dirt-caked black boots over his stained blue work clothes to his blood-splattered face. \u201cAre you going to be a zombie now? Because you touched him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said quickly. \u201cIf I haven\u2019t been infected yet, I probably won\u2019t be. Besides,\u201d I added, nodding at the back of Pollard\u2019s head, \u201che thinks we\u2019re immune.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just a theory,\u201d he said, proving he was eavesdropping. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t mean you should touch him, Maya.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think it\u2019s a good theory.\u201d It made sense to me. No matter how catastrophic a virus was, there was always a fraction of the population naturally immune.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are you going to do with him?\u201d Hunny asked. She nudged his boot with the toe of her tennis shoe and Ben\u2019s leg wobbled, but he didn\u2019t wake up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEasy,\u201d I warned. He was a human being, not a toy. \u201cI\u2019m not going to do anything with him. He\u2019ll wake up,\u201d I hope<\/em>, \u201cand we\u2019ll find out if the antiserum worked.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She bobbed her head, but I sensed she had something else to say. Finally, she whispered low enough Pollard couldn\u2019t hear, \u201cMaya, I took something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My guts clenched. \u201cWhat did you take?\u201d And from where?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said in a rush. \u201cI know you told me not to, but it was just sitting there, and it was so cute and little.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat did you take?\u201d I pressed. We\u2019d been in a lab where hazardous chemicals were stored. \u201cIt could be dangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s not.\u201d She pulled a silver rectangle from her pocket and offered it to me. \u201cHere. Look. It was on your dad\u2019s desk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The moment it landed in my palm I knew what it was. Immediately, like turning a faucet, I teared up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s me and my brother when we were little.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened the small, hinged frame and stared at a pair of black and white portraits, cropped to show just the faces and nothing else. At two, when the pictures had been taken, we\u2019d looked so similar. We both had wispy black hair. The same brown eyes. Only our smiles were different. Mine was smaller, more hesitant. Mason grinned whole-heartedly, showing off tiny baby teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is me.\u201d I touched the glass over my pale face, and then my twin brother\u2019s. \u201cThis is Mason.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So much had gone wrong since we\u2019d taken the photos, but in the snapshots we were still young and sweet and the future seemed bright. Maybe that\u2019s why Dad kept it on his desk, even after Mason was incarcerated. Maybe he\u2019d liked to remember his kids before the darkness descended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought of the picture tucked into my pocket. Is that why Ben liked it? Did my face somehow remind him of his life before the plague?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Hunny said again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I closed the frame and returned it to her. \u201cIt\u2019s okay. I\u2019m glad you took it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should have it.\u201d She tried to give it back. \u201cIt\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d I shook my head. It hurt too much to look at. \u201cKeep it. You can give it back to me later when you\u2019re done with it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wedged it into her pocket and unzipped my backpack. \u201cHere.\u201d She handed me the wipes and then returned to the passenger\u2019s seat with a box of yogurt-covered raisins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I scrubbed vigorously at my hands with a moist towelette, rubbing between my fingers and up both wrists. I repeated the process with a second cloth, removing layers of blood, dirt, and grime. No matter how hard I washed, though, I couldn\u2019t remove every mark I\u2019d gathered since the red plague exploded out of South America and then the world. Maybe I\u2019d never be completely clean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was so much blood caked on Ben\u2019s hands they looked black, but up his left arm was a fine misting of white paint. Evidence it had been him who\u2019d written me a message on asphalt, and no one else. Proof he was different than most Reds. I reached to clean it off when the RV hit something so big I was weightless for an instant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLadies?\u201d Pollard announced, spinning the giant steering wheel. \u201cWe\u2019re almost there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Buy the full novel on Amazon<\/a> now.<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Like Cheap Books? Sign Up For My Monthly Newsletter<\/a> Today.<\/h5>\n\n\n\n
Enjoy this Free Red Plague Sneak Peek PDF<\/a> full of excerpts and extras!<\/h5>\n\n\n\n

<3 Anna<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Enjoy this free sneak peek of Antidote’s 1st chapter! Antidote (Red Plague #2) Copyright 2014 by Anna Abner Back Cover Blurb: The red plague has devastated the human race, turning billions of people into zombies with red eyes and an insatiable hunger for human flesh. The only known cure to the 212R virus is locked inside of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1080,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Free chapter of Antidote (Red Plague #2)!","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[215,761],"tags":[221,499,682,418,823,172,461,332,90,822,220],"class_list":["post-3766","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-antidote","category-red-plague-series","tag-apocalypse","tag-audiobook","tag-dystopian","tag-kindle","tag-kobo","tag-north-carolina","tag-paranormal-romance","tag-plague","tag-red-plague-series","tag-young-adult-fantasy","tag-zombie"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"views":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2Wkl2-YK","jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/01\/Antidote1800x2700.jpg","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3766","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3766"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3766\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3857,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3766\/revisions\/3857"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1080"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3766"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3766"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3766"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}