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    Zombie Fallout 3.5 ~ Dr. Hugh Mann
    Zombie Fallout 3.5 ~ Dr. Hugh Mann
    Zombie Fallout 3.5 ~ Dr. Hugh Mann
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Zombie Fallout 3.5 ~ Dr. Hugh Mann

    By Mark Tufo

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Before there were zombies there was the virus...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMark Tufo
    Release dateJun 20, 2011
    ISBN9781452410463
    Zombie Fallout 3.5 ~ Dr. Hugh Mann
    Author

    Mark Tufo

    Mark Tufo was born in Boston Massachusetts. He attended UMASS Amherst where he obtained a BA and later joined the US Marine Corp. He was stationed in Parris Island SC, Twenty Nine Palms CA and Kaneohe Bay Hawaii. After his tour he went into the Human Resources field with a worldwide financial institution and has gone back to college at CTU to complete his masters. He lives in Colorado with his wife, three kids and two English bulldogs. Visit him at marktufo.com for news on his next two installments of the Indian Hill trilogy and his latest book Zombie Fallout

    Read more from Mark Tufo

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    Reviews for Zombie Fallout 3.5 ~ Dr. Hugh Mann

    3.5/5

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    • 4/5
      Dr. Hugh Mann by Mark Tufo is a prequel to the The Zombie Fallout Series. If you have not yet read any books in this excellent series yet, I highly recommend that you start with Zombie Fallout, book 1, and do not read the prequel Dr. Hugh Mann until after the third book. It makes perfect sense then, but is a different story and style from the rest of the books. Zombie Fallout (book 1) sets the stage and is a better starting point. The series thus far consists of Dr. Hugh Mann (this book, a prequel), Zombie Fallout, A Plague Upon Your Family, and The End.... Although distinct books, I am reviewing them together because that is the way that I read them. Once I finished each book, I was so wrapped up in the story that I immediately purchased the next. Cumulatively, they are an epic apocalyptic tale, which reminded me of Steven King's The Stand and Robert McCammon's Swan Song. Elements of horror, paranormal, supernatural, and dark humor elevate this series beyond your typical zombie fare. These elements, along with Mike's quirky personality & fierce, protective love of his companions, make this series poignant and worth reading. Highly recommended.Now...on to the Dr. Hugh Mann prequel. The prequel is set years before the events in the rest of the books, and only one character from the other books appears in it. There are no zombies at this point, but there is a horrible epidemic, and this book sets the stage to explain how and why the zombie apocalypse described in the rest of the books occurred. It also sheds light on several important characters in the series, and has a great, surprise, twist at the end which makes waiting for book four intolerable. The plot of this story revolves around Dr. Hugh Mann, a scientist, and the chain of events that is set off when he makes a startling discovery in the lab one day. For those engrossed in the Zombie Fallout series, it is required reading.

    Book preview

    Zombie Fallout 3.5 ~ Dr. Hugh Mann - Mark Tufo

    1

    Physicist Dr. Hugh Mann

    The year was 1917 and the University of Boston had just received one of the new and few prototypes of the coveted electron scanning microscopes. No longer would man be relegated to seeing in the twenty-micron range. Whole new worlds formerly unbeknownst were opening up. Dr. Hugh Mann used all his weight as a tenured professor to make sure that he had the lion’s share of the use, and even that was not enough. Twenty hour work days were not uncommon, not that he ever felt that it was work. This was what he was meant to do; this was his calling. When he first discovered the Hugh-Manns, it was with this higher purpose that he set out.

    My God, Hugh blasphemed–and with more enthusiasm than he had shown at the birth of his daughter some twenty-seven years previously.

    No one was at the facility during this late hour to notice Dr. Mann’s reaction. He worked late most nights, sometimes not even bothering to go home, much to the chagrin of his fellow scientists. Home was an empty place anyway. His wife had left for greener pastures when their daughter was only two years old, leaving the toddler behind. His wife, Eloise, had thought she would be able to change him, if not her, then definitely Marissa. When Eloise realized that he was slipping even further into his addiction, she had walked away from the marriage, ignorantly thinking that Hugh would have to be forcibly pulled out of his psychoses to care for his daughter. When Eloise left, Dr. Mann buried himself even further into his work like a deer tick on a particularly succulent cow thigh. His daughter, Marissa, was raised by his sister-in-law after the state found Dr. Mann to be an unfit parent.

    It wasn’t that he was uncaring or unloving. He loved Marissa with all his heart, that is, when he remembered her. On more than one occasion the police had to be summoned to his locale to pick up the dirty, disheveled and hungry child wandering the streets. By the age of four, Marissa lived with her aunt and uncle. By the age of thirteen, she had nearly stopped altogether with any attempts to foster a relationship with her brilliant, benign father.

    But nothing interrupted the flow of Dr. Mann’s single track mind. Tuesday was like Sunday; 1912 was like 1915; morning, noon, night–sometimes he ate on his own, sometimes he had to be reminded. Work meant everything to him, work was everything.

    To stop working for even a moment forced him to focus on his life, which, for all its successes, was laced with monumental failures. There was the death of his parents from a fiery chemical reaction during one of his failed experiments; the loss of his soul mate to a disease that hadn’t even been named yet, a wife that had walked out on him, then a daughter that he mentally and emotionally walked out on. It was much better to keep on working…always working…it kept the mind active, fruitful, in control. To stop invited anarchy and led to soulful, mind-blistering pain.

    Dr. Mann was a haggard looking forty-seven-year-old. Sure, a lot had to do with his rumpled, unkempt appearance, but his haunted expression belied a more profound affliction. With no family or friends to turn to, Dr. Mann continuously forced himself deeper and deeper inward. There were Type 2 autistic children that had more contact with the real world than Dr. Hugh Mann.

    It was the fourteenth anniversary of Marissa’s liberation when Dr. Mann made his discovery, not that the date made any difference to him. Pulling away from the eyepiece on the high-powered microscope, he pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Did I really see what I thought I did? he asked the empty laboratory. The last scientist had left over three hours ago and the janitor, Mr. Jenkins, was in no position to prove or disprove the doctor’s findings.

    The doctor had the distinct feeling of a God-like power coursing through him as he once more–and for the fortieth time–put his eye to the eyepiece. Nothing had changed; the image remained the same. Which made sense, because to prepare a slide for viewing, the sample had to be placed in a solution that rendered everything inert…in other words, dead.

    The doctor wanted to call somebody, anybody. His daughter had made it perfectly clear that she did not appreciate being awakened at all hours of the night to hear wild talk of his discoveries. He would have called his wife, if he knew where she was. He had no colleagues left who would speak to him; he had torn down what was left of those tenuous bridges by hogging the majority of the microscope time.

    The dean then? he said aloud, more to calm his nerves than to receive a response. No. The man’s a dullard. He would probably think I was talking about paleontology.

    Something cracked in that moment. Solitude became intolerable with so much to share, and Dr. Mann ran down the hallway screaming as if the Hounds of Hell had been released with the sole purpose of dragging his worthless soul back down into the abyss with them. Fenton, the security guard, roused from a deep sleep, fumbled for the sidearm he used to carry in another life. The seventy-six-year-old retired Chicago cop nearly suffered his second cardiac infarction as he watched Dr. Mann come racing towards him. For the first time in years, Fenton wished he had just stayed good and retired once and for all as the sheer look of pain and terror etched across the doctor’s face shook him to his core and he backed away from the running scientist.

    What was I trying to prove anyway? I could no more stop a fleeing turtle than I could intimidate a flighty rabbit. Fenton picked up the phone and had almost rang for the operator to summon help as Dr. Mann pounded his hands and braced himself on the guard desk.

    Come here…! Dr. Mann said breathlessly.

    Fenton didn’t take offense to the obvious fact that Dr. Mann had forgotten his name. In the ten years he had worked at this research facility, Dr. Mann had never acknowledged his existence, much less his name. Fenton knew this wasn’t any form of elitism. Dr. Mann couldn’t rattle off the names of even a handful of his co-workers.

    Is something on fire, Dr. Mann? Because I’ll need to call the fire department, Fenton asked.

    Fire? It took Dr. Mann a few moments to switch gears and access the appropriate portion of his brain, the part that let him interact with others. Fire?

    Fenton nodded his head.

    There’s no fire, Dr. Mann answered. The man behind the desk seemed to visibly relax.

    Oh my God! Fenton exclaimed a few moments later as he tore his gaze away from the eyepiece.

    Dr. Mann spun in a gleeful circle, partly happy for the affirmation that he hadn’t gone insane, and partly because the discovery of a lifetime–nay, the discovery of the millennium–was confirmed in the shocked gaze of one security guard who now, more than ever, wished that he had retired when he had the chance.

    Please describe to me what you see, Dr. Mann demanded.

    Fenton absently noted that once again the good doctor did not acknowledge his name.

    It’s hard to say EXACTLY, Fenton said as he nervously licked his lips.

    Dr. Mann’s face became laced with a scowl.

    The image is a little blurry, Fenton started up. Dr. Mann’s scowl softened ever so slightly as he nodded in agreement.

    True, true, Dr. Mann reiterated. "That’s because the object we are looking at is almost beyond the range of even

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