When a deadly plague spreads like wildfire, 17-year-old Bren Watts is trapped at Ground Zero of a global pandemic.
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Bren and his classmates are stranded in New York City, now filled with thousands of murderous infected and desperate survivors. F...
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DAY ONE: April 9th, Friday
I got accepted into the college of my choice in the early weeks of March. And before the month ended, I had a plane ticket to visit Columbia University in New York, where I would spend the next four years of my life to get my degree in Biology. Then, maybe the next four after that, I'll be in medical school and then be accepted into a residency program in some prestigious medical hospital in the Northeast.
It was a dream. My chances of reaching those goals increased tenfold from the Ivy League status of the school and put enough determination and grit, I might be there one day. My parents were very happy for me. Their alma mater was the Columbia Lions, and as their only child, I had to be a lion, too.
It was a good thing that I loved New York and fell in love with the school even before I laid my eyes. And when they heard I planned on attending there, they freaked out. Heck, they threw a massive party for the entire neighborhood, and this was before they knew I was accepted. They threw a much larger one when I did.
My parents could be over-the-top. Me being an only child, it was always like that every waking hour. I was glad I was moving far away from Portland, Oregon, to New York City. By my count, it was about 3,000 miles away and not an easy drive if they decided to do an impromptu visit as some parents did from the college horror stories online. Given their track record, they'd certainly do that if I live close.
In the early hours of April 9th, at four in the morning, I trudged along the oddly geometric T-shapes of the infamous teal-colored carpets of Portland International Airport, racing toward the baggage line. I was still half-asleep by the time I got there, and with Starbucks not yet opened until five, I was cranky and irritated as I desperately needed a cup of coffee. My flight was at 5:30, and boarding was twenty minutes before that. It certainly didn't give me time to grab a cup. I tightened my backpack around my shoulders. I packed light for the trip.
"Call me if there's any trouble at all, okay? No matter how small, you call me," my mother said.
I nodded, but she gave me one of her looks that said if I didn't, she's going to bring hell upon me. I gulped. "Fine. I will," I said. She had a way to force words out of my mouth.
Her frown dropped, and she smiled. "Unlike Portland, New York is a big city with at least twenty million people in the metro area alone!"
"I know, mom, I know. I read the brochure."
"God, you are only seventeen, and now in a big city? To see this day coming—"
Not this again. "I'm going to be back here on Sunday night. It's a weekend trip. You'll see me again."
"I know. It's just that you've grown so fast!"
My mother started spouting off about what to do if I was injured or if there was a medical emergency during the flight or in the city. I rolled my eyes. I've heard this before a thousand times. My mom was Dr. Elizabeth Watts in the Sacred Heart Hospital in downtown Portland. A surgical doctor.
