Then we were lifting off into the air.
I fought Jamie away for a view out of the porthole window between us.
The buzzing from the alarm we’d set off by opening the emergency door was like a siren song, attracting all of the Berjalan penyakit within a half kilometer radius of the shopping center. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them were converging on the parking lot, most slow and lumbering, but many who were obviously the new and improved version of zombie were sprinting towards the building and into the gaps in the plate glass made by the wrecked Cera SUV and our limo.
Tomas didn’t stand a chance.
I saw him get up and he started sprinting towards the edge of the building, just as the fastest of the mutated zombies pushed through the rooftop door. The last I saw of him was a glimpse of his perfect backside and floppy mane of chestnut hair as he leapt off the roof into the darkness below.
Soon the shopping center was a small dot surrounded by tinier dots in a clearing in the rain forest and then out of sight. Sheldon put on a headset and motioned for the team members to follow suit by tapping the earpiece. I took a headset off a hook from behind my head and pulled the large puffy cones over my ears.
“Testing, testing, raise your hand if you can hear me,” Sheldon said, raising his own hand to show us how.
We all raised our hands.
“Fabulous. Okay, first of all, welcome back to civilization. I’m sure you have some incredible stories to tell, but nothing tells stories like video, so hand over your camcorders to Benny here and he’ll see to it they are looked after until we can siphon off footage.
Jamie said, “We don’t have our camcorder. It was taken in Mersing when we were captured by an evil corporation.”
“Ours was confiscated as well, Sheldon.” Quaid said through the headset, shrugging his shoulders.
Sheldon’s eyes began to bug out and turned an unhealthy purple color. Livid is the best word to describe how took this bit of news.
Derrik piped in, “We didn’t bung it up like them,” he said, pulling their camcorder out of a duffel bag by his side, “not only did we make it to the evacuation point, activate the transmitter and manage to not lose our SUV, we also got a couple hours of truly awesome footage of dead zombies, zombies feeding, running over zombies and navigating through some of the most beautiful backcountry of Malaysia I’ve ever travelled through.” He handed the camcorder to Benny. “There’s enough footage there to make at least three separate episodes staring myself and my gorgeous cohort.”
Lydia looked pleased at Derrik’s eloquence, turned to us and smirked in self-satisfaction.
It didn’t matter, though. I don’t think Sheldon heard one word of what Derrik said. He was so upset at the news of the lost camcorders that I could swear I could see tears welling up in his eyes. He sank back in his jump seat and pouted for the rest of the thirty minute flight.
The helicopter flew low over Johor Bahru ducking under radar to avoid any pesky questions from the Malaysian armed forces.
I turned to the window and kept an eye on the ground as we flew by. I was looking for any sign of Berjalan penyakit in the city below. Electricity was still flowing in the region. The buildings were lit and I could see cars driving in the city streets. We must have passed over the quarantine zone’s barrier while Derrik was speaking. As we got closer to the southern part of the city and the causeway between Malaysia and Singapore, I began to make out what looked to be long narrow tent cities stretching across the expressways, harboring the hundreds of thousands of refugees that had fled south during the last few days.
And then we were over the water and, just as quickly, flying over the sleepy heartlands of Singapore. The helicopter shifted its direction eastward and we flew for another few minutes before landing at the Seletar airbase in the northeast of the island state.
Chapter 13
THE helicopter set down at one of the furthest hangars located close to the edge of the Seletar Reservoir.
Sheldon regained some of his composure after we touched down and announced right before the doors opened, “Put on your game faces, people. There’s a film crew outside that will capture your return to Singapore for final episode outtakes. There will be no dialogue at this time. I need you to exit the helicopter and look thrilled to be home, yet sufficiently battle weary. We’ve prepared a sumptuous buffet inside the hangar. Please take a plate or two and eat a bit, I’m sure you are all starving. Afterwards, we have hired cars ready to bring you to your homes for a night’s sleep in your own beds. We resume shooting tomorrow at two o’clock in the afternoon.” He looked at his watch, “That will give you approximately ten hours to rest and get back into the groove. Not to worry, we’ll pick you up and bring you to the starting point. Tomorrow’s your time to shine and we see who truly has the metal to win the million dollar prize.”
He grew very serious, his eyes sparkling with a lusty sort of gluttony, “While you’ve been away our show has really picked up steam and become a worldwide sensation. The final race up until check-in is going to be simulcast live in thirty-eight countries, including the United States and China. No matter the outcome of tomorrow’s race, all of you are now globally famous. Get some good rest tonight. For two of you, it will be your moment to shine. I’d better see some fierce competitiveness glaring from my monitor during those final events.” He gave the signal to the co-pilot and the back door began lowering to the ground.
We did as we were told.
The boys exited first and when they got to the ground, Quaid and Norris jumped up and did a dramatically manly chest bump. Jamie and I stepped out next and we smiled and cheered at being back, which was actually entirely heartfelt. Derrik and Lydia brought up the rear. Lydia dropped down to her knees and kissed the tarmac. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, Derrik had smuggled a Singapore flag handkerchief in the lapel of his bio-suit. He whipped it out and began waving it above his head singing at the top of his lungs, “Majulah Singapura!”
The cameras worshipped us.
We gathered into a comradely group and strolled together like lifelong friends toward the long buffet table covered with in white linen and chafing dishes stuffed full of your average Singaporean fare. There was roti prata, bee hoon, mee goreng, kuay tiao and kuay chap, fishballs and satay, chicken rice and char siu noodles, prawn cakes and a slush machine for ice katchang. Behind the buffet table, four servers in folksy straw hats and black aprons were at the ready with empty plates and tongs in hand. We approached the table and the cameras followed. I think we were all happy that we didn’t have to make inane conversation. We pointed and aggressively mimed at the dishes that looked appetizing and then sat down around a big circular table. The servers brought us our food and filled our glasses with either lime juice or Merlyon beer, its logo prominently displayed on the glasses, jugs and an obnoxious banner overhead.
I was famished.
I hadn’t had a bite to eat since breakfast at the Petronas Towers earlier that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since we left the safety of that military-held green zone.
I looked up at the others and they seemed equally ravenous, slurping and shoving food into their mouths at a rather unhealthy and disgusting pace.
The cameras filmed and ate it all up.
However, Norris wasn’t eating.
He sat there staring stared at his plate, picking at the noodles and pounding down mug after mug of Merlyon beer. I’d say in a five minute period, he must have drunk six or seven beers, intermittently substituting a sip of lime juice for a swig of beer.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed his decidedly odd behavior.
I heard Quaid whisper next to him, “Mate, you’d better slow down. Cameras are on us, you know. I don’t think you want to come off like an arseholed drunk.”
He slowed down a bit, sipping the beer but still avoiding the camera’s gaze, keeping his eyes on the table, sort of shrinking in his chair.
Derrik and Lydia were in high spirits b
elieving they had really scored a coup with the whole camcorder debacle. They began to brag about how they were the best team and how the rest of us were just a bunch of scrubs who didn’t deserve anything for our efforts. They laughed and giggled and ate satay. “Girls, lah” and “Ang Moh” peppered their inside jokes and whispers. I wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with their behavior. Jamie squirmed in her chair and I saw Quaid put his hand on Norris’s shoulder, trying to hold him back from making a drunken mistake. Norris was now good and hammered from all the cheap beer. He glared at Derrik and Lydia, his face as red as his bloodshot eyes. Not even aware that we were watching them or that Norris was ready to pound their faces in, Derrik whispered once more to Lydia and she burst out laughing in a loud guffaw, spewing kway chop across the table, flecks flying at high velocity, specks peppering Norris’s crimson cheeks and forehead.
That was the last straw.
Norris leapt from his chair towards the two of them, upending the table and screaming rage incoherently at the top of his lungs. But before Norris could reach the two jokers, who’d managed to leap back away from the collapsing table, plates and food crashing to the ground at their feet, two crewmen working the lighting and Quaid managed to subdue Norris, taking him to the ground and sitting on his back and legs.
The cameras continued to film and devoured everything.
“Cut” I heard Sheldon yell. “That was gold!”
Quaid and the two crewmen climbed off of Norris, who was now passed out on the pavement, snoring loudly.
“Time to go home, people. Get your gear and get out of my sight. Your cars are waiting out front of the hanger. Sweet dreams. See you all tomorrow.”
Jamie took my hand and we walked to the front of the hangar, too tired to care about the outcome of the near tussle between the other teams.
There were three limos idling in the car park, the drivers standing beside their cars smoking and staring at the stars. We climbed into the one in the front of the line and, as the driver pulled out of the Seletar airbase, both fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Sometime later, I felt a hand gently shaking my shoulder. It was the driver. I guess he’d already taken Jamie to her flat because I was now alone and lying on the dusty leather backseat. I sat up, wiping an embarrassing pond of drool from where my head had previously laid and climbed out of the car. Looking around, trying to get my bearings, I realized I was in front of my block of flats in Bishan. Without a word, the driver took my bags that I’d thought abandoned in Port Dickson and set them on the curb. He then tipped his hat and drove away, leaving me alone on the curbside to haul them back to 356D, the building where my family was sleeping eight stories above.
When I reached my door, I dug my house keys out of a small pocket in the backpack and eased the security gate open trying to minimize the creaks and clangs. The house was silent, everybody asleep in their rooms, except for Tilly, my little step-sister, who was snoozing in her nightgown on the couch in front of the cartoon glare of the flat screen television.
I crept across the living room into the hallway and into my room, very self-conscious about the fact that I couldn’t remove the boots that were sewn onto my bio-suit as I tip-toed along the floor. I’m sure I stunk to high heaven, what with all the perspiration from running for my life and green blood and sea water splashing into my hair earlier in the night. I wanted to take a shower, but was too tired to wait for the water to heat up. So, instead, I stripped off the rubber suit and unceremoniously dumped it into the small rubbish bin underneath my desk and flopped onto my bed. The last thing I saw before fading out was the glowing numbers on the clock on the nightstand that read four twenty-two in the morning.
I awoke to my entire family standing in my room surrounding my bed. I kept still while they whispered about whether or not Jamie and I had been eliminated early or whether we’d won the big prize. I listened to their voices while flashes of infected and burning cars and buildings flickered chaotically behind my closed eyelids.
“I think she’s awake,” I heard my mother say. She reached down and touched my hand. I opened my eyes and started sobbing like a child. But could you blame me? I’d been through the most horrific trauma, its realization finally crashing into consciousness while being surrounding by the love and comfort of my family.
My mother sat down on the bed and hugged me while I wept. I cried for all of those poor innocent people who’d been taken over by the fever. I cried for Yvonne who I’d last seen gulping down the remains of a prepared squirrel. I cried for Gemma who was friendly and kind and I cried for her half eaten star tattoo where her forearm used to be. I cried and cried. My sisters brought some tea and cakes and after I calmed a bit, we sat in my bed and ate while they tried their best to be supportive and affectionate. So caught up in my emotional state, I didn’t even care that crumbs that were falling onto my sheets and pillows.
They tried to get me to tell them about the last four days. But the confidentiality clause in the CARS contract which Sheldon had reminded us of during the dinner in the hangar at Seletar precluded me from mentioning anything about the events of the race until the outcome was publicly announced. So I just sat there silently and ate my kueh lapis and drank my jasmine tea while my little sisters played and my mother eyed me as she sat in a chair next to the bed sipping on her tea.
Of course, I wasn’t aware of the time and when someone began banging on the front door of the flat, I realized that the glare of the sun outside my window was at the full strength of an equatorial afternoon. I leaned over and picked up the alarm clock that had been brushed onto the floor when my sisters were setting down the tea tray.
The time said 12:55 pm.
Sheldon said filming of the final day’s episode began at 2:00 pm.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed a towel to wrap around my otherwise nude body and ran to the front door. My little sisters weren’t in on the reason for my panicked behavior and were caught off guard by my frenetic movement, one of them tumbling off the bed onto the floor.
Jamie was standing there at my door. She was wearing the sexy schoolgirl outfit we’d put together for the show but then left at home because there wasn’t enough room in our bags. And she was livid, “You’re not even dressed? Didn’t you get my messages? Oh wow, and you stink! You didn’t take a shower? You realize you could be contaminated, don’t you? What if you pass the virus onto your family? Oh, god, we’ve got to hurry! Get showered and put on your schoolgirl outfit. Sheldon says we have to be at the Tuas border checkpoint at two.” She pushed her way into the flat and began shoving me towards the bathroom.
An icy chill ran down my spine as I thought about my family sitting on my bed, the residue from the night before no doubt clinging to the sheets and on the floor where I’d walked in those rubber-soled boots.
I pulled away from Jamie and ran to the bedroom and screamed for my family, “Get out! You’re all in danger!” I scooped my little sisters into my arms and into the bathroom and stripped off their clothes, throwing them into rubbish bin and then set them onto the floor of the shower where I sprayed them down with hot water, scrubbing fiercely with soap and disinfectant. My mother watched from the door. I think she got the hint because I heard the shower in her bathroom come on and saw the noticeable decrease in water pressure as she washed away any potential contaminants.
By the time I was finished with their scrubbing, my sisters were bawling from my harsh actions and the overwhelming panic they’d seen in my eyes moments earlier. Jamie took them to their room to comfort them and help get them dressed and I grabbed the rubbish bin and ran to my room, took that rubbish bin and set them both onto the small ledge where our air-con hung outside the kitchen window.
Whew, I let out a sigh of relief and then proceeded to give myself one hell of a disinfecting shower. I scrubbed the skin on and around my hands until it was raw, figuring that would be where most of the virus would be hiding if it were still clinging to my skin and still lying dormant in the pores.
But we didn’t have to worry after all. The same driver who’d dropped me off the night before was waiting at the bottom of the lift when we stepped out. Without saying a word, he turned and led us to the car he’d parked illegally next to the garbage chute. We climbed inside and I let out the second sigh of relief that day.
Our driver was masterful, taking the correct side streets and entering and exiting the intermittently clogged expressways full of weekend commuters like an F1 driver. Jamie and I worked on our make up with little compacts in the backseat while he negotiated the streets and traffic. I gazed into the small mirror in front of me and felt entirely out of sorts in the overly feminine costumed get-up. It was if the experience of the last week had drawn a veil from my eyes.
We pulled up in front of a vacant field about two blocks from the Tuas border checkpoint at exactly ten after two. Well, not quite vacant. There were about forty Tua Kee Media cast and crew members milling around an elaborate set that, when filmed from certain angles with the border checkpoint in the rear, would look as if it were an extension of the ICA buildings in the background. It was quaint to see familiar Tua Kee Media artistes dressed as immigration officers standing inside a kiosk complete with a counter and gate that was made to look like one of the border entry points.
Sheldon yelled at us to get the hell over to briefing, pointing at the other two teams standing around his new assistant, a recent ITE graduate whose speech was thick with Singlish. The assistant was holding a clipboard, explaining the terms and conditions of the final day’s race. As we approached, he was wagging a finger at the Ang Mohs, “Hao Lian eh! Under no circumstances can break traffic laws here in Singapore. Your days of crazy racing are over. You must keep your rally cars under the speed limit. You have many crewmembers accompanying you today; two will film inside the car and a cadre more will trail you in one of those camera trucks over der. Your crewmen oso can call us if you break any traffic laws and you will be immediately eliminated.”
Zombie Fever: Outbreak Page 25