State
Of Infection
Michael
J. Frey
Genre:
Science Fiction/ Horror
Publisher:
Black Rose Writing
Date
of Publication: March 6, 2014
ISBN:
9781612963211
ASIN:
B00J4WWY3Q
Number
of pages:266
Word
Count: 84K
Cover
Artist: Tommy Dalston
Book
Description:
Just
months before the Battle of Central Park and the onset of the Second
Civil War, President Obama declares martial law in New York, New
Jersey and Connecticut as Montoya’s encephalopathy spreads.
Despite
the military’s best efforts, the government falls and Manhattan is
reborn as a city-state under a military dictatorship. Survivors Mike
Calaf, and Avalon Calendar struggle to survive, caught between the
zombies and the new ruler of New York.
But
long before the zombie infection, during the First Civil War, Doctor
William Jackson (of the Confederate States of America) is trying to
unravel the mystery behind this strange new sickness. He knows that
if Complex P fails to work, there could be devastating consequences
which might influence the future of mankind.
Excerpt:
1-
DOCTOR MIKE CALAF
It’s
been nearly a year since the outbreak. Most people call it the ZA
infection, though it’s not really an infection. The proper medical
term is Montoya’s encephalopathy (named after Claude Montoya, the
French researcher who spearheaded the early studies).
I
was in my office seeing patients when it began. Back then I had a
medical practice on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, about a block
away from my one bedroom apartment. I could get from my office to my
home before you could say Jack Robinson. It was convenient as heck
(and in the end, probably saved my life).
In
those days my biggest concern was keeping the practice growing.
Medicine is, among many things, a business, and like most businesses,
mine had overhead. Lots of overhead. In my case overhead meant two
receptionists and two nurses. I also had the malpractice insurance to
cover, which seemed to go up almost every year. Next came the office
supplies (both secretarial and medical). Then throw in the computers,
maintenance, and a small reserve for holiday parties. Private
practice in New York City was a costly beast to say the least.
Fortunately,
I did pretty well and was able to celebrate my black Friday earlier
and earlier each year. I wish I could attribute my good fortune to my
skills as a doctor, but as Avalon might say, that dog won’t hunt.
There were plenty of good docs in New York City before the ZA
infection, so I had to find a way to stand out. The real secret to my
success was keeping the waiting down to a bare minimum. I prided
myself on it. Everyone hates waiting for the doctor, I get that, I
hate it too. And no group of people does hurried and rushed like
Manhattanites. So if Mrs. Kessler had an appointment at noon, she was
seen by noon, or sooner. That, and a pair of the friendliest
secretaries known to mankind, is what kept my people coming back.
Of
course, it didn’t always work out that way. All it took was one
complicated condition to throw off the schedule. For example, during
what I thought was a routine physical exam, I felt an enlarged liver
in a fifteen-year-old boy. That’s how a visit booked for twenty
minutes became forty-five minutes. After explaining the findings to a
terrified patient and his mother, I then had to order liver function
tests, screening tests for hepatitis and a CT scan of the abdomen. It
takes time, but it has to get done. You do what you can while keeping
the bottom line in mind. And, if Mrs. Kessler wants to tell you about
her son’s academic success at Brandeis University, or Mr. Barkman
wants to show you pics of his new Shetland Sheepdog? Well, you smile
and look at the pics, or at least that’s what I did. Good word of
mouth followed, and my practice grew; satisfying both my needs as a
physician, and as a businessman.
I
wish I could say my office was filled with marble and gold leaf, and
that I had one of those big fancy wooden desks. It wasn’t like
that. But it wasn’t one of those tired, worn out old offices with
dirty carpets and framed posters of Matisse and Van Gogh everywhere
you turned. It was pretty standard I guess.
On
my desk, I had two photographs. One was a recent pic of Kimberly and
me in the North Fork of Long Island (the wine country). The other was
of my sister and my parents, which was taken at a wedding, or bar
mitzvah, or something; everyone dressed up and smiling in the type of
picture that seemed dated the second it went into the frame; the type
of picture destined for a desktop. Overall, I’d say it was a nice
setup. Then the ZA infection came and everything changed. And if a
little zombie apocalypse wasn’t bad enough, the Southern Federation
showed up next to conduct what they called the Second Civil War. Talk
about bad karma.
Manhattan
is now what one might call a city-state, a tiny little country onto
itself. And who gets to be king of New York? A man named Castor Dean
does. Castor Dean is the class president...of a pretty big class. Not
that he was elected by his classmates (or anyone else for that
matter). His authority was given to him by what remained of the
military after the government collapsed. His official political title
is the Gallum Major; which means king or ruler. Personally, I would
have chosen “El Hefe” if I ruled New York, but they never offered
me the position. This is not to say that Castor Dean is a bad leader,
it’s just that the vox populi never meant much to him. Most
survivors welcomed Castor and his absolute rule. After all, because
of him, the city still has electricity and clean water. That fact
alone makes Castor worth his weight in gold.
Castor
changed things up when he came into power. For starters, he renamed
the city. Manhattan, he felt, had been erased by the ZA infection.
The survivors of the zombie apocalypse needed a fresh start, a new
beginning. So Manhattan was reborn as Gallum City, and Roosevelt
Island (a small island adjacent to Manhattan) became its capital.
Because of Roosevelt's small size, Castor’s army was able to clear
out the zaps in a matter of days. This zombie-free sanctuary (just a
few minutes boat ride from Manhattan) was the ideal location for the
new ruling class. Roosevelt Island was divided into three sections.
The southern section became a military town named New Sparta (where
most the soldiers were barracked). The middle of the island was for
government leaders and their families. The northern section was given
to the surviving civilian population, the natives, who lived on
Roosevelt before the infection. They were allowed to stay, provided
they agreed to relocation.
About
the Author:
Michael
Frey is a physician and assistant professor in New York City. He
lives in Westchester, New York with his wife Jessica, two children
and two dogs.
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