The Carolina Variant

©2023 by Brooke L. FrenchAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.The author grants the final approval for this literary material.First Digital VersionThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.ISBN: 978-1-68513-218-7PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITINGwww.blackrosewriting.com For the smartest man I know.I love you, Dad. PRAISE FOR“The Carolina Variant, by Brooke L. French, is one of those books that, while fiction, is so close to reality that it becomes more and more terrifying as you read. And read, you will. Once you start, you’re completely drawn into this gripping story about a possible bioterrorism event, all the while hoping that such a thing never occurs in our world. Filled with compelling charactersfighting not only for their lives, but humanity itself,you won’t be able to put it down.”–Jeffrey Jay Levin, author ofWatching, Volume 1, The Garden Museum Heist“The Carolina Variant is a taut thriller that terrifies with a too-damned-frightenedly plausible story about what happens when a deadly virus escapes. It’s the kind of book that makes you afraid to turn the page, but you will. You definitely will.”–Christopher Amato, author ofShadow Investigation and A Letter from Sicily“What a ride! The Carolina Variant is Blake Crouch’s Upgrade with the pacing of Fox’s 24. Brooke L. French’s eidetic heroine is the only one standing between a mystery virus and a worldwide pandemic—but the last time she used her skills, she almost died. Good luck putting this adrenaline-laced thriller down!”–Cam Torrens, author of Stable PROLOGUESeptember 13, 2018The girl on the video monitor stared up at the ceiling as blood trickled from her eyes and nose. Her only movement an occasional spasm of coughing.Nothing unexpected, given the progression of the disease.Dr. Edmund Haley shut off the overhead fluorescent lights and let himself adjust to the dim glow of the screens lining the back wall of the office. Only the girl’s monitor still played a live feed, but it lit the room well enough.And, either way, darkness suited him fine.He’d spent so much time stuck in this tiny godforsaken place, he could’ve found the desk and computer with his eyes closed. Haley dropped into a chair and adjusted his glasses, trying to ignore the sharp tang of antimicrobial soap that clung to his hands. It smelled like life in the hospital. Like the servitude of medical practice.He hated it as much now as he had before he’d lost his license. But at least this time, he’d be well paid for his efforts. And soon, it would be over. He refocused on the girl’s image. The only question was when.Light sliced into the room behind him as Margaret bumbled inside. He made no move to acknowledge the nurse, even as she pulled up a chair beside his. As idiotic as she otherwise seemed to be, she’d know by now not to bother him. He shifted his attention from the video monitor to the computer, where he pulled up the patient’s chart.Patient: Octavia MILLS, 18 yo, Af-Am, F, #4Vitals: 5’5”, 110 lb. updated (9-10) 108.8 lb. updated (9-11) 106 lb. updated (9-12) 104.1 lb.Provider Notes: Click to openHe scrolled to the section for his notes and, after a click of the mouse, entered the details of that day’s exam. “9-13-18; Liver and kidney function both continue to decline. Discrete purpuric patches expanding from face and trunk now merging. BSA involvement approximately 80%. Note third spacing.”The third spacing, a condition where the skin separated from the tissue beneath and filled with blood, was something new. Margaret’s report of it had been the primary reason he’d put himself through the nightmare of protective gear and protocol it’d taken to do a physical exam himself. He wasn’t going to let it be said that he hadn’t been thorough.Haley glanced back up at the monitor in time to see a bubble of blood form between Octavia’s lips. The thing grew with each shallow breath. When it reached the size of a small orange, it burst, splattering more droplets of blood onto her face and neck.Octavia made no move to wipe them away. He’d given her enough morphine. She would be long past caring. And, more importantly, the extra dosage meant she’d finally quit staring out at him with that awful, confused look on her face.He didn’t care. Not really. Except that it had been distracting, and he needed to focus. Needed to understand why was she still alive. What had he missed? Perhaps another round of blood work would—The blare of an alarm sounded over the video feed and, more faintly, from the hall. Three more followed.Octavia’s body spasmed, convulsing again and again as she vomited up a grainy black-red mix of blood and tissue. The progression was as repulsive as it was now familiar. The vomit mixed with the brighter red flowing from her eyes and nose as the virus moved into its final stage. Blood, still unable to clot, flowed until it covered her face and chest. Until the bedsheets were saturated and no longer white.Octavia’s muscles tensed, seizing all at once before releasing. Her body too gruesome to look peaceful, even as she finally came to rest.Neither he nor Margaret moved from their chairs.The alarms echoed unanswered down the empty hall. Haley clicked off the monitor and most of the noise with it. “That’s better.”God knew it had taken long enough. He turned back to the computer, closed Octavia’s chart, and opened another document saved to the desktop as “Subject Outcomes.” He scrolled down, missing Octavia’s name the first time, then tapped the cursor back up until he found it. She’d