Villains of the Apocalypse

by James Harden

  “And you didn’t find it suspicious that Farid was the only one who did not die?”

  “We monitored him for three days. There was no change.”

  “I don’t think you understand what we are dealing with here. This virus, it adapts. It changes. And it changes quickly. Faster than anything we have ever seen. Influenza will change on a yearly basis. But this thing changes every day, every week.”

  “But the new anti-virus…”

  “The new anti-virus isn’t working. Nothing is working anymore.”

  “What? Impossible. If the new anti-virus is no longer working than what the hell are we doing here?”

  “We are creating history.”

  “But the test subjects are declining. They are dying. I mean, how many?”

  “All of them.”

  John swallowed hard. His hands began to shake. “So what now?”

  “Now we conduct an autopsy. I want to know everything.”

  Doctor Hunter’s phone rang and he answered. “What? They found him?” Hunter swore under his breath. “Seal off that room. No one gets in until I get there.”

  He hung up.

  “What is it?” John asked.

  “They found Farid. He had his neck slashed. Murder.”

  “By who?”

  “Not sure. But I am going to find out. Close this facility. I want you at Outpost Six. You are going to perform an autopsy on Farid Ali. I want to know how he survived for so long. And I want you to examine the killer. Find out if the virus was transferred to him. Apparently there was a lot of blood at the scene.”

  “What are you going to do?” John asked.

  “I’m going to make sure Farid’s room is not contaminated.”

  CHAPTER 4

  OUTPOST SIX

  LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

  Bashir woke up in an unfamiliar room. He was on his back. He was on a bed. Bright fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling.

  Bashir noticed other beds in the room. At least a dozen. The other beds were sectioned off with plastic sheets. On each of the sheets was a large black bio-hazard symbol.

  Bashir was groggy. His head throbbed. He sat up and tried to get his bearings. His hands were handcuffed behind his back.

  Someone walked into the room through a pressurized door. He was wearing a HAZMAT suit.

  “Awake, are we?” the man asked. “How are you feeling?”

  The man’s name tag read: John Nielson. Clinical Research Specialist.

  He walked over and before Bashir could react, before he could do anything, the man jabbed him in the thigh with a needle and pushed down on the plunger. Bashir felt something warm rush up his leg and his whole body.

  A few minutes later he felt feverish. His joints ached. His whole body ached.

  Another person entered the room. He was also wearing a HAZMAT suit.

  His name tag simply said that he was a translator. His name was Frank.

  “Subject’s name?” Frank asked John.

  “Not sure,” John answered. “He was arrested in the Woomera Immigration Center. They sent him here.”

  “Arrested? For what?”

  “Apparently, he attacked some of the guards.”

  “No shit.”

  “Yeah. Pretty crazy.”

  “So we don’t even know his name?” Frank asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s handcuffed. He can’t do anything.”

  Bashir spoke to the translator in Persian. “Leave.”

  John stopped writing notes on his clipboard. “What did he say?”

  “Excuse me?” Frank asked.

  “Leave or die,” Bashir answered.

  The translator tensed up. He spoke to the doctor in English. Bashir could understand everything. It was amazing the things people would say in front of you when they thought you did not speak their language.

  “John, he is threatening violence. We need to restrain him. We need security in here, right now.”

  “What for? He’s handcuffed. We’re in the middle of nowhere. He can’t do anything.”

  “Still, I think it would be best if we had security in here.”

  The doctor lowered his voice. “There is no security. There’s no one else here. We’ve been running with a skeleton crew for months now.”

  Bashir noticed the bed he was sitting on had wheels. The wheels were not locked.

  Now was his chance while these two idiots were arguing about security and the lack thereof.

  He rolled off the bed backwards. He then pushed all of his weight against the bed, driving it into the translator and the doctor, knocking them both clear off their feet.

  The doctor was unconscious. The translator was on his back, struggling to get to his feet. He scrambled and crawled his way towards the far wall, trying to get to an alarm.

  Bashir jumped to his feet, charged for the translator, tripped him over, knocking him down again.

  With his hands tied behind his back, Bashir wrapped his legs around the throat of the translator and snapped his neck.

  He made his way over to the doctor and found the keys for the handcuffs. He slipped his hands over his legs and unlocked the cuffs. Bashir then placed them on the doctor and sat him down in a chair.

  Bashir unzipped the doctor’s hazmat suit and removed the helmet and face mask. Bashir slapped him hard in the face. “Wake up.”

  The doctor blinked his eyes open. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what had happened. When he saw the translator slumped on the floor in a heap he lunged for the alarm on the wall.

  Bashir grabbed him, pulled him to the floor and placed his knee on the doctor’s neck.

  “Do not struggle or I will snap you in half.”

  “You… you speak English?” he choked out. “Who are you? What are you doing?”

  “I want answers.”

  “You want answers? I’ve been exposed. I’m a dead man!”

  “What did you give us?” Bashir asked. “What did you inject me with?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Bashir produced a syringe. He jabbed it into his bicep and drew blood. “You will talk or I will pump you full of my own blood. And then you really will be exposed.”

  “No. Please!”

  “What did you give us? Are those people dying?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means yes. It means we don’t know. It means we have never seen anything like this.”

  “You are not making sense,” Bashir said as he held the syringe in front of the doctor’s face. “You will help me or you will die.”

  “You don’t get it do you? I’m already dead. They’ll kill me for this. And you’re as good as dead too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the people in charge. They don’t tolerate failure. They gave the green light to test on people for crying out loud.”

  “What are they testing?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a virus. A weapon.”

  “What?”

  “Bio-weapons of mass destruction.”

  “They want to use a virus as a weapon?”

  “Yeah. They want to use it to infect entire enemy populations. Terrorist networks. Whoever they want. You feel it now, don’t you? The fever. It comes on quick. Your body will try and fight it. But it’s useless. Soon enough, your immune system will be overwhelmed. Soon, you will die. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “There has got to be an anti-virus. Give it to me.”

  “There is no anti-virus. Not anymore. At least, not at this facility. It stopped working months ago.”

  “Do not lie to me.”

  “This is just an outpost. We keep it separate to limit containment failures like this.”

  “No. There has got to be an anti-virus somewhere.”

  “There probably is. But I don’t have access to it.”

  “Wh
o does?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  Bashir held onto the syringe like a knife. “I will pump you full of my blood.”

  “Do it. I’ve watched so many of you people die. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like.”

  “Tell me,” Bashir repeated. “Who has the anti-virus?”

  “If anyone has it, it’s Doctor Hunter.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s on his way.”

  “Good.”

  “No. Not good. He’s a goddamn butcher. You’ll be sorry. He’s a crazy son of a bitch. He thinks he’ll be a hero for doing all this. This… killing. This… mass murder. Trust me, you do not want to meet him. You should pray to God that you die before he gets here.”

  “I no longer believe in God.”

  Bashir drove the syringe into the doctor’s chest. He pushed down on the plunger, pumping him full of a virus that was designed to be used as a weapon of mass destruction.

  CHAPTER 5

  Doctor Hunter had arrived at Outpost Six. He was trying to contain his anger. His research assistant, John, had quarantined himself.

  “It’s bad,” John said through a plastic sheet with a black bio-hazard symbol on it. “Something bad. We didn’t know. He was too fast. He was like a Special Forces soldier or something.”

  “Slow down,” Doctor Hunter said. “What happened?”

  “One of the test subjects, I think it was the guy who murdered Farid Ali. He attacked us. He was too quick. He killed Frank for crying out loud. Broke his goddamn neck.”

  “Had the subject been administered the virus?”

  “Yes.”

  Hunter kicked a nearby chair. This was the last thing they needed. “Who knows about this?”

  “No one. We’ve been operating with a skeleton crew for months now.”

  “Did you call Doctor West?”

  “No. Last I heard he was in Sydney meeting with investors.”

  “Where is the patient?”

  “He’s gone. He ran off.”

  Hunter knew he had run off into the desert. It was a stupid and desperate thing to do. But people were capable of stupid and desperate things when they were faced with certain death. Fortunately, this person was already dead. The virus would’ve killed him within the hour. Probably sooner.

  “There’s something else,” John said. “He injected me with his own blood. He infected me. I’ve given myself a double dose of the new anti-virus. But I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work? I mean, it hasn’t been effective since…”

  “Do not worry, John. We have been manufacturing an extra-strong version of the anti-virus. You will be fine.”

  “I’ve been here all night. I’m too scared to leave. What do we do about the patient?”

  “I will deal with him later. Remember, we will be looking for a corpse. Provided the wild dogs haven’t gotten to him first.”

  “Thanks, Michael. This means a lot to me. I’m so damn scared. I can’t believe what happened. I can’t believe Frank is dead. What do we tell his family?”

  “Do not worry. I will deal with this. It will all be over very soon.”

  Yes, it would be over soon, Hunter thought. There was no anti-virus. John was right. It had stopped working. Over the past few months it had slowly become less and less effective. And right now? Right now it was as good as useless. Hunter had told an outright lie about manufacturing a new batch. There was none. Nothing was working. The virus was one hundred percent lethal. Once infected, you die. It was only a matter of time.

  The good thing was the alarm had not been raised. And John had not told anyone else about this incident.

  As far as everyone outside of this room knew, it was business as usual. Hunter was determined to keep it that way.

  The last thing he needed was for his superiors to get wind of this. He did not want any more setbacks.

  They were close to perfecting this virus.

  Doctor Hunter made sure John was handcuffed to the bed. He would let the virus kill him. And then he would study the effects of the virus on his body and his vital organs.

  CHAPTER 6

  Doctor Hunter was about to board a chopper so he could search the surrounding area. The pilot gave him the thumbs up, indicating they were ready to go.

  Hunter’s phone rang. It was Kumar Singh.

  “I checked the footage at the outpost,” Kumar said.

  “You have access to the security cameras?”

  “Of course.”

  “So you are aware of the current situation?”

  “Yes. I am aware. I see you are going above and beyond the call of duty on this incident. You should really call this one in. Let the professionals track him down.”

  “No. I will clean this up. There will be no more setbacks.”

  “Fine. If you insist. You should know that the target is close. He stole one of the Humvees. I have tracked him using the GPS locator in the vehicle.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Yes. He is still alive.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I am monitoring the situation via satellite surveillance.”

  Hunter knew Kumar had an extremely high IQ. But he never knew he was this smart and he never knew he had this kind of technical ability. There were a boat load of rumors about Kumar. The rumors began mainly because he had worked with the Indian military as a field surgeon for so many years. Working in the hot zones. Because of his time there, some say that he had once worked for the Mumbai mafia. Others insisted that he was Indian royalty. The most outrageous rumor was that he was a field surgeon to the Mujahedeen fighters of Afghanistan, and that he had once removed shrapnel from Osama Bin Laden himself.

  Regardless of these whispered rumors, the company had decided to hire his services. They were convinced his brilliance was worth the price and would overshadow any unsubstantiated stories.

  And they were right.

  Hunter didn’t want to admit it, and he never would to anyone else, but Kumar Singh was a thousand times more intelligent and a million times more capable than both he and Doctor West put together.

  Plus, he had a tough side that can only be earned by serving in the line of fire and on the battlefield and in the unpredictable and dangerous third world. At that moment, Hunter was extremely glad that Kumar was working with him.

  “I should warn you,” Kumar continued. “This individual, Bashir Abbas, he is a former member of the Taliban. He has spent most of his life fighting a war. He is a very tough human being. Proceed with caution.”

  “He will be dead by the time I find him,” Hunter said.

  “I would not be so sure about that. The virus is changing. Just as we predicted. It is taking longer and longer to kill. This is good. This is what we want. A chance to spread. Infect. We are close, Michael.”

  Kumar sent Hunter the coordinates.

  Apparently Bashir had stopped in the middle of nowhere. He was still inside the Humvee.

  Hunter suspected he was dead or close to it. He told the helicopter pilot that he would not require his services. Bashir was only a short drive away.

  CHAPTER 7

  Bashir woke from a strange dream. He was feeling worse. He was burning up. His muscles and his joints and his bones ached.

  But he wasn’t dead yet.

  Initially his plan was to hide in amongst the dead test subjects at the research facility. He could’ve stayed hidden under one of the bodies, waited for Doctor Hunter to get close. He could’ve surprised him and taken him down.

  But for some reason Bashir had given up on that idea. His body ached. He was feverish. It was weird, but he simply felt too hot to stay indoors. He felt claustrophobic, like he was suffocating. He needed to get out and away.

  He stole a military Humvee that was parked at the facility. And then he just drove. He had no idea where he was driving to. Then he saw the river bed. And the very idea of walking through a river bed, even a dry one, was soothing and calming.

 
He checked the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. He grabbed the machete and was about to leave the car and start walking.

  Up ahead he could see the dry river bed. He knew he would be able to follow it and stay hidden. He might even find water.

  He began walking, but then he stopped. He saw a dust trail off in the distance.

  It was a car. It was coming closer.

  The car was a Range Rover. A civilian model. Not a military Humvee.

  Maybe he’d be able to ask this person for help. Or water. Maybe they even had pain killers.

  The Range Rover drove up.

  Bashir waved his arms.

  Doctor Hunter could not believe his eyes. Bashir was still alive.

  According to his soon to be dead or probably even already dead research assistant, Bashir had been exposed to the virus well over ten hours ago.

  Maybe Kumar was right. Maybe the virus really was beginning to slow down.

  Doctor Hunter drove up next to the stolen Humvee. He wondered why Bashir was waving his arms, wondered why he had parked the car and why he wasn’t running away.

  Something didn’t feel right. Hunter remembered Kumar’s warning about this guy being a battle hardened soldier. He reached into the glove box and retrieved his handgun, a military standard issue Beretta. He remembered when they were first advised by the military to carry a gun. He was completely against the idea. But now he was extremely grateful for the advice. He also, put on a pair of latex gloves, just in case.

  He stashed the gun down the waist of his pants and exited the Range Rover. His number one goal was to get Bashir back to the research facility. Alive and in one piece. Or as close to alive as possible.

  He waved a friendly wave and smiled a friendly smile to Bashir. “Good afternoon, sir. Are you all right? Need some fuel?”

  Bashir was slumped forward, sweat poured off his face. His eyes were bloodshot. “Do you have any water?”

  “I believe I do. You don’t look so good, if you don’t mind me saying. Do you need a ride into town? Maybe to a hospital?”

  “No. I just need water.”

  Hunter retrieved a small canteen of fresh water from the car and offered it to Bashir. He drank it quickly, spilling most of it down his chin. He then poured the rest over his head.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Hunter asked. “What are you even doing out here?”

  Bashir looked around. He seemed to be confused. “I came out here to get away.”

  “Get away? From who? From what?”

  “From it all. Just had to get away from it all. And relax.”