A blinding flash of lightning struck a pole at the crossroads, cutting the wire and sending sparks into the night in a fireworks display. The thunder’s reply was immediate. Gusts of wind sent her temporary shelter swaying dangerously back and forth, and she held on for dear life. Its trunk creaked under the strain, and she was not sure it would hold for much longer. The dead wailed. Ecstatically welcoming the heaven’s display they rushed towards whatever drew them in groups, some to the blaze that engulfed the pole, others into the bush in pursuit of the elusive thunder, yet others drawn to the dance of shadows cast by their peers in the brief flashes of white light.
Drenched to the bone, Kerubo ever-so-slowly slid down to the sturdier branches, careful not to let her movement rekindle their interest. As if to thank her, the tree stopped swaying. The thunderclaps were on the move, as was the lightning. Carried by the wet gusts, they wreaked their havoc elsewhere, and within minutes she estimated they had drifted at least a mile to the west along the village road, with much of the crowd in tow. She ventured a peek through the foliage. The ones that remained seemed almost bored now, just standing around, heads slightly tilted and swaying in the residual breeze much like the trees around them. Her mind slowly settling, she continued to observe them.
What had happened for them to turn into what they were now? And what exactly were they? She studied their freakish forms and couldn’t help but feel pity. As much as they had pursued her, they didn’t deserve what someone or something had done to them, to turn into the mindless things she was looking at now. Bereft of any reasoning power, it seemed, and driven but by external stimuli of sorts, they had been reduced to mindless hunters. And yet hunters, animal or human, still had the ability to coordinate, to communicate on some level. From what she was seeing now, they had lost all but the most rudimentary capacities and no longer interacted with anyone or anything in any meaningful way, if at all.
She thought about her brother and how he had stood there in the dark outside the house, much like the people now gathered around the tree. Mob violence, even lynchings, if rare, still did happen, and people, in general, were easily roused and motivated to commit acts they as individuals might never consider. This was true not just for her area, but as far as she could tell, the world over. The sound of her brother’s jaws snapping at her face would be etched into her memory forever, not just for what it was but for what it stood for: these things’ desire to claw into her, to tear her apart with their own hands and teeth, was not just perverse, it was inhuman. That was it! Whatever had happened to them had stripped away their humanity and left but an empty shell, the only resident desire left within the hunger to fill the void. The questions in her head outweighed the answers. In her present predicament, there was little else she could do but to accept the fact and somehow find a way out of this. Her wet clothes steaming in the rising damp, she leaned back against the trunk and shivered.
She would make her move at first daylight. If the demeanor of the things below was anything to go by, then she would have seconds to make her getaway before they snapped out of their trance and gave chase, probably drawing others with them from nearby in the process. If only she could get to the end of the road, where it met the highway. Morning was always a busy time there, matatus connecting the Ugandan border crossing with the rest of the country, trucks ferrying goods for import and export, and livestock transports carting cattle to abattoirs across the border for processing. It would not be difficult to hitch a ride.
Eventually, morning arrived as it always did, and with it a renewed spark of resolve. Exhausted from the night’s events and freezing, she had dozed for the last couple of hours. But now, as the warmth of the sun’s first rays touched her skin through damp clothes, life returned and she eagerly inspected the immediate surroundings. A handful of things still stood where they had before, but the rest had virtually dispersed, with a few stragglers still struggling through the thick foliage of the underbrush across the road. The wailing and moaning had stopped. Instead, the only sound was an occasional snarl and gargle, the kind of creepy wheezing noise only the terminally ill or dying would make.
Like a long jumper, she imagined her steps, counting them out and visualising her every move. She would hit the ground on the opposite side, where a slight slope would not only lessen the impact but buy her a few precious seconds before the things would notice her presence among them. From there, she estimated it would be a short sprint to the road and beyond that, another 20 minutes to the highway, tops.
The move went almost as planned. Instead of jumping, Kerubo silently dropped down from the branch and into a small bush below. The rustle of branches and leaves barely giving away a human presence, the things on the other side of the tree showed little interest. Not until she rounded the trunk in a wide arc, her fast-moving silhouette ringing the virtual dinner bell and causing the small group of things to virtually fall over each other to give chase. With only a few more yards to the road, she looked back.
The infected had resumed their uncoordinated stagger, but, nimbler than she had given them credit for, almost kept pace. She would need to pull out all the stops if she was to gain any significant distance. Daylight helped and hindered at the same time. She could now clearly see the road ahead, but footsteps in the underbrush instantly let her know that the things stumbling around in the bush, likewise, could now see exactly where they needed to go. She reached the crossroads and was just about to turn when the first of them again broke through the bushes and onto the path immediately behind her. Sweating and panting, sharp rocks cutting into the soles of her feet, she pushed on, praying with every stride that the road would stay clear. She could hear them again now, just as she had the night before. Wailing, moaning, snarling with hunger and greed. The morning heat carried their stench and invaded her nostrils as her lungs screamed for air.
The gunshot came out of nowhere. The bullet whizzed past her head, and she dove to the ground, the gravel cutting into her arms and peeling the skin off her hands and forearms like a myriad of dirty little blades. She covered her head, fully expecting the next shot to find its target, but instead, an entire barrage of rounds exploded, spitting forth their payloads into the pursuing mob behind her. Ears ringing from the explosions, she tried to get a glimpse of the shooters.
“Stay down! And don’t move!” A voice shouted, barely audible over the sustained fire, and she complied. She could year bodies falling to the ground and the wet impact of stray rounds sending others back into the bushes. Gravel jumped and stung her calves. Something cold and viscous sprayed and ran down her legs, and she felt a stiff hand drop onto her ankle. The firing continued. For how long, it was hard to say, but she didn’t care. Whoever was doing the shooting clearly wasn’t intent on doing her any harm, which after the events of the night was a welcome change. A few more snarls, a slight gargle from nearby, a branch breaking and hitting the road, and then it all stopped.
“Clear!” It was the same voice as before, but closer this time. “Clear!” came the response from somewhere further away. Weapons were being reloaded, and new magazines settled into their slots with obedient clicks.
“You. You on the ground.” The voice addressed her, and she carefully raised her head. A dozen or so soldiers stood less than 30 yards away, a dozen or so guns now pointing directly at her face.
“Are you injured?” The older soldier in the middle of the group asked.
“I don't think so,” she replied as honestly as she could. Still reeling from the events, it was hard to tell.
“What I am asking is: were you bit?” The tone of the soldier’s voice made no bones about the fact that the wrong answer would unlikely result in a happy ending. And yet she didn’t really understand the question. ‘Bit?’
“Um, no. I haven’t been bit,” she shrugged, still trying to figure out what all this meant.
“You can get up then,” the soldier instructed, before turning to his men. “We’re done here. Take five and then form up. The sooner we
get out of here, the better.”
They turned and began walking back down the road towards the village.
“Hey, who are you and where are you going?” Kerubo was still perplexed at the sudden turn of events, but going by what she had just experienced, there was no doubt that something bigger was afoot than she had thought. These were Kenyan troops. Not GSU or another Police force, but Kenyan soldiers. It didn’t take much to figure out things had to be dire.
“I am coming with you!” She wiped black goo from her legs, dusted herself off, and caught up with them before the older soldier had a chance to reply. Much to her surprise, though, he didn’t protest.
“We can take you as far as Eldoret, but then you are on your own. As long as you don’t slow us down.”
“Thank you.” She knew better than to be too inquisitive. ‘Take the gift of rescue and ask questions later.’ She followed them as they walked down the road in virtual silence, the abrasions on the palms of her hands and forearms burning like fire.
“Here,” the soldier handed her a clinical wipe. “It will sting like crazy, but it will keep it from getting infected.” For a moment, she thought she could see a smile flicker across his hardened features.
She nodded, applied the tissue, and grimaced. He wasn’t wrong.
They passed the village, where the aftermath of the troops' arrival lay, mostly headless or face-down in the sodden dirt. Brass casings, black blood, and red soil. From what she could see, not a single living thing remained. She sobbed and quickly wiped away the tears, but nothing escaped the older soldier leading the way.
“I know,” he said with a hint of sadness. “People think killing is easy for us, just because we wear a uniform.” He stopped, turned, and looked deep into her eyes. “These were our people, too.”
And with that, they continued to walk in silence, mumbling the odd sombre prayer or two, while the first flies began to feast on death’s buffet.
The army trucks were parked neatly along the highway, a handful of sentinels keeping a watchful eye in all directions. Without further instructions, they boarded the tarp-covered truck beds, Kerubo taking a seat by the tailgate, from where she could look out into the open landscape. Nobody would see her cry there, and as they pulled away from the village, her tears flowed freely, their stream and her prayer bound together as a last sacrament for those who would not receive any other.
“Where will you go?” the older soldier had to shout over the truck’s engine and the rattling of its chassis in the headwind.
She hadn’t thought it through, but somehow Nairobi had been on her mind even before the night’s events. People often spoke ill about the big city. From the old and tired ‘Nairobbery’ to ‘Silicon Savannah’ and other nicknames, for most rural folk who sought to make a better life for themselves, the self-titled “Green City in the Sun” offered little of the warmth the name implied. Most spent their days toiling away just as they did before, having traded the field for a factory, their farmhouse for a single room, and the safety of their family for the company of hustlers. But she had never been one to be easily deterred. Besides, what she might have called home had just evaporated before her very own eyes.
“Nairobi,” Kerubo shrugged. At least there was safety in numbers there. “And you?”
The older soldier stared at the tarp across the truck bed.
“We will stay in Eldoret and respond as needed.”
“You mean, there is more?” A chill crept up her spine. Of course, there was. How could she think this possession, disease, or whatever it was, had only dropped in on her village alone. She shook her head. It was all too much to contemplate for now.
“You best head as far east as you can, young lady,” the older soldier smiled a weak smile and handed her a packet of biscuits. “That is all you need to know.”
And it was all that she needed to hear. For now, it would be Nairobi, and from there, Mombasa, maybe, until things settled down. But there was no way they would let this thing advance that far. The government had always known how to protect itself. Besides, there was too much at stake. Yes, for now, it would be Nairobi. The safety of Nairobi.
The truck bucked and rattled, and the wind carried her thoughts away and back to her parents. She wondered whether she could ever retrieve that picture still on the wall. There would be no more family photos now. Whatever was left had been extinguished by this curse. She only hoped her brothers had been shown the soldier’s mercy. Contemplating the alternative was not something she was prepared to do, least of all for her own sanity.
She would make time to mourn the dead later. That much she owed them. Then she would be free.
CHAPTER 1
For most of the flight, everyone kept to themselves. Each survivor either lost in thoughts or keeping themselves busy by going through their meagre supplies over and over again. Oddly, only Papillon seemed comfortable enough. Sprawled out in the aisle between the last two rows of seats, his roaring snore easily could have been mistaken for an engine malfunction.
Tom had used the last three hours taking a crash course in civil aviation. He had spent plenty of time in military choppers, but handling the boxy single prop was an entirely different story. Thankfully Nadia, despite her occasional roughness, not only answered all his questions but even ran him through the basics of take-off, landing, and in-flight controls. It was nothing that could replace some actual flight-hours, but Tom figured even the most basic knowledge might one day help get him out of a pickle.
Besides, his growing excitement at the prospect of seeing Julie and Anna needed to be kept in check, and this was a good way to keep his mind occupied. One mistake at this stage could spell the end of it all for him, his family, and the group. Focus was what had saved him so far, and it would be the one thing he wouldn’t let go until he knew for sure they were all safe.
“Another 45 minutes, and we’ll be landing.” Nadia removed her headphones and shouted into the back of the cabin.
“Better, get ready,” Tom followed suit. “You know what to do.”
The others again checked their packs - a ritual Tom had drilled into them from the day they met – topped up their magazines and inspected their weapons. With the initial checks complete, they lined up their rucksacks along with their rifles in a neat row next to the exit. In the event of a rapid bailout, one person getting snared by a slung rifle or pack could prove fatal. Sidearms were holstered and secured. Gautier, David, Amadou, and Papillon took their seats port and starboard, aft of the hatch. Tom nodded with satisfaction as he watched the group flawlessly go over the routine he had instilled in them.
Nadia, in anticipation of their approach into Nairobi, reduced airspeed and increased the rate of descent. Tom again focused on her every move as she registered control-responses and read the dials. A sudden shudder through the plane had him look up at her. To his concern, even Nadia seemed surprised. She pushed the throttle, increasing their airspeed, and the shudder disappeared.
“What was that?” Tom asked into his headphone’s microphone but received no response.
Instead, Nadia again reduced throttle and stared at the instrument panel. There it was again. Starting off as a small vibration, it quickly grew into a shudder of worrying intensity, rattling fixtures and making noises Tom was sure weren’t meant to be coming from any running engine. Finally, Nadia pointed at the RPM dial. Pulling off her headphones, she leaned over.
“Something is not right. Whenever we dip below 1700…there is an imbalance somewhere.”
Confounded, Tom gave her a blank look.
“Remember that deadhead we hit on take-off?” Nadia raised her eyebrows.
“This is a Cessna, not a T-90 tank!”
Tom immediately understood. He had been sceptical of their ability to complete takeoff following the collision but all the more relieved when they had reached cruising altitude without issues. Now, it seemed, the ghosts of the recent past had come back to haunt them.
“What happens now?”
>
He felt silly to even ask. The limited number of scenarios ranged from the evident to the downright obvious.
“We land.” Nadia shrugged, adding, “Oh, and we only get one try.”
Tom nodded, trying to feign confidence. Nairobi was as heavy a built-up urban environment as they came. There would be little or no alternate landing sites, other than perhaps National Park, where packed Land Rovers carted around rich tourists eager to take snapshots of Kenya’s apex predators. Considering recent events, Tom couldn't help but wonder for a moment whether 'apex predators' was still the correct term. He hadn't seen the dead attack animals yet, but as far as he was concerned, they sure gave everyone else a good run for the top of the food chain.
Not only did Nairobi offer little in the way of immediate landing opportunities, but their chosen airport also did not exactly provide a clear approach. The slums of Kibera on one side, swathes of newly-constructed apartment blocks on the other, and arterial feeder routes to and from the city center between. The resulting obstacle course would require a rapid, but controlled descent. Not a tactic that seemed available given the current state of their plane.
Within 20 minutes, they crossed the main highway leading west to Nakuru. Well known the world over for its flamingo colonies and within 3 hours’ drive of the city, it had been one of the first destinations he and Julie had marked on their map of places to visit.
Nadia further reduced engine power, and as expected, the plane responded violently. Inside the cabin, it felt as if the engine wanted to free itself from its confines, vibrating with such force that it threatened to undo every bolt and shake loose every crimp that held together the fuselage. Apartment rooftops and office buildings streamed past below, speed blending them into a dizzying monochromatic blur.
The Virophage Chronicles (Book 2): Dead Hemisphere [Keres Rising] Page 2