The cameraman and boom operator stopped at the foot of the stairwell, their journey was over. As we pushed through the door into the cavernous flight of steps they waved and mouthed an encouraging, “Good Luck” as we ran inside.
I took a deep breath and paused before following Jamie’s ascent up the iron wrought stairs swirling up the fifty-five floors to the AirGarden above.
This is it.
We can do it.
We ran and ran up those stairs. It was around the thirtieth floor when I began to feel my legs losing strength and getting that jelly-like feeling familiar from my secondary school days as a distance runner when my energy levels were too low.
Jamie was a few stairs ahead of me. She was feeling the drain as well and when she turned the corner on the platform of the forty-first floor, her foot caught the base of the railing and she went crashing onto the landing.
I came up beside her, huffing and puffing, barely able speak, “You … okay?”
No, it turned out she wasn’t okay. I squatted down and pulled her sock back to look at her ankle, which was already swelling and turning a reddish purple color. Her ankle was either severely sprained or possibly even broken. She grabbed at her calf and when she saw the damage began to writhe in pain.
I could picture in my mind’s eye, Quaid and Norris now passing us on their stairwell and Derrik and Lydia hitting the twentieth or thirtieth floor landing.
Dashed hopes of winning the competition drained my spirit.
We were so close. Maybe, just maybe, the boys were encountering similar delays during their ascent. After all, Norris was in no shape to attempt such a difficult climb.
We had to try to get to the top.
Without another word, I helped Jamie up and put her arm around my shoulder. She whimpered but knew she had to work through the pain. There was a million dollars prize hanging in the balance after all.
We made our way up those final sixteen floors and everything seemed to be going in slow motion.
I don’t know how long it took, but by the time we pushed our way through the exit door and onto the AirGarden, the victory celebration had already begun for the winners who were already standing on the stage set built over the infinity pool on the edge of the roof so that the entirety of Singapore’s beautiful cityscape could be seen in the background.
This was a closed set. No one but the Tua Kee Media production crew, team members and a few select hotel staff were allowed to see the final outcome of the race. There were only two steady cams on the roof filming the events. All other media and electronic devices had been banned from the rooftop as per Sheldon’s order and the helicopters had been instructed by the authorities to remain below the roofline or face legal action.
We limped forward towards the stage and the victory party.
No one paid attention to us as we were the losers and no longer part of the show.
There, on the stage, were Derrik and Lydia, handfuls of tightly bank-wrapped fifties held high, jumping up and down and hugging each other and lecturing the worldwide audience on how they were the best team and how they deserved to win because they were true Singaporeans. A bevy of the latest and most popular Tua Kee Media artistes surrounded the couple cheering along at their victory, trying to get in as much face time as possible, overacting in their artificial excitement, consciously aware that their reactions were being filmed for a worldwide audience.
There was so much commotion around those two winning losers and, as I said before, no one was paying attention to the two of us.
Likewise, no one noticed Quaid and Norris who were now standing beside the stage across from us, drenched in perspiration from the climb. Quaid had his mouth gaping open in disbelief. He’d seen those two trailing their boat some five minutes back. There was no way they’d passed our teams in their climb unless they’d taken the lift. He began yelling something at the top of his lungs at the people on the stage but was drowned out by the cheering and backslapping. As Quaid yelled his objections, Norris lowered his head and sunk to his knees and just stared at the ground, shaking his head back and forth unnaturally, the front of his shirt covered in a whitish, dare I say, greenish vomit.
The repetitious music of the shuffling zombie line dance below was being piped into the pool area through large amplifiers positioned around the deck. When there was finally a break in the music as the track restarted, I finally heard what Quaid was shouting at the people on the stage, “They cheated! Took the bloody lift, they did! The whole show’s been rigged from the start!”
Norris began trembling violently on the ground and I think I was the only one who was watching him as everyone else ignored the losers.
The music began again and Norris pulled up onto his feet.
The hairs on the back of my neck began to rise and I could tell something was dangerously wrong.
I wanted to do something, anything, but I was still holding onto a pale and pain stricken Jamie who, even leaning against me, could barely remain standing on her uninjured foot.
Norris let out a guttural shriek, silencing the Tua Kee Media bobbleheads and forcing everyone to look his way.
But he was no longer Norris.
He was infected.
He was Berjalan penyakit.
After a tremendous battle in his veins between the version of vaccine given to him in the Mersing hospital and the mutated IHS virus he’d been exposed to from the scratch on his forearm, Norris had finally succumbed to the contagion. True to its viral nature, the mutated strain of infection had unintentionally penetrated Singapore’s fortress-like borders before Vitura’s personnel could offer and administer the vaccination as planned, piggybacking into the country on the momentum of our reality show.
His sudden transformation and quick, nimble movements were dreadfully spellbinding. He leapt up onto the stage, catching everyone off guard. His face had contorted into that evil caricature of a man enraged, his mouth gaping and chewing at the air. The artistes leapt off the dais, some of them jumping into the serene waters of the infinity pool surrounding the stage.
So caught up in the narcotic miasma of kiasu triumph and avarice stemming from the recent acquisition of large sums of cash, Derrik and Lydia couldn’t even see Norris lopping towards them with murderous intent.
Maybe he still had some faculties left to know he had been wronged. Maybe the combination of hatred and envy at their peak are more powerful motivators than even the virus. Because, even in that zombie state, it was obvious that Norris had chosen his target.
Lydia, that stupid grin still on her ugly pancake makeup covered face, basking in the glow of undeserved praise, turned towards Norris, unaware of the threat he now posed.
Norris pounced on her and bit into her cheek, tearing out a mouthful of flesh, exposing the silver caps of her molars underneath. She screamed in agony, the terror of what was happening still not registering in her beady little eyes.
The cameras continued rolling.
Derrik abandoned his partner, grabbing as much of the cash he could and running off the stage towards the exit.
Lydia managed to get her arms between her body and her attacker. She pushed Norris off and he took a step back, his bloodshot eyes boring hateful holes into her brain, chewing and swallowing the morsel of soft cheek in his mouth.
There was silence on the AirGarden, someone had cut the music and the only noise was the whine of the rotors of the helicopters circling just below our sight line.
I could only guess what had happened. Norris had been inoculated but maybe he’d been given an ineffective form of the vaccine or maybe the vaccine only delays the symptoms of IHS-2. Somehow the strain of the final competition, maybe it was climbing up the fifty-five stories, triggered the virus that had overtaken him.
Quaid was standing beside the stage and in an even, friendly, perhaps even sorrowful tone, called out to his partner, “Norris. Mate. That’s not the way. Let it go.”
Norris paused and looked back and forth from Quaid to
Lydia, again and again as though confused. We’ll never know if he was consciously aware of his actions or not. And the question still haunts me to this day: Can the person inside a Berjalan penyakit still be reached? For a moment, it seemed as if that were the case. Norris let out a lusty moan as he took one last look at Lydia, still gripping the wads of cash, and the blood running down her face. Then he turned and sprinted off the stage, right off the AirGarden and into the open air, falling down, down towards that crowd engorged in a hypnotically media-born psychosis of zombie fever, performing that ridiculous synchronized zombie dance that should have died in the eighties.
And as Norris plummeted towards the earth, zombie arms flailing in the air, one of the Tua Kee Media helicopters swirling around the Towers trying to get a full panoramic shot of those zombie dancers flew an unfortunate path underneath his plunging body, catching it in the rotating blades, chewing much of the infected flesh into a fine pinkish, greenish mist. And as the helicopter crashed into the bay, its blades crippled by Norris’s crunching bones, the pinkish greenish mist rained down on the upturned faces of the dancers below.
When the realization of what they’d just witnessed dawned on them, there was sheer mayhem on the AirGarden set. Tua Kee Media artistes rushed the exit doors. The production crew high-fiving as they realized they had they just filmed media gold. Lydia flopped around on the stage convulsing in a pool of money and blood as the mutated strain of zombie fever coursed through her veins. Sheldon yelled through a bullhorn repeatedly, “Calm down, everyone! Calm down!” to no avail. I set Jamie down on a reclining chair and sat beside her as people rushed around, not knowing where to go or what to do. Quaid came up to us, tears in his eyes at the loss of his friend and we gave him a long hug. He sat down next to Jamie and we waited for the madness to subside.
Through the crowd a hotel employee pushed his way towards us. I could see that he had ‘concierge’ embroidered on his lapel, “Abigail Tan?” He dutifully asked, even though everyone on staff at the resort knew who we were by sight.
“Yes?” I replied.
He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and said, “I’ve been instructed to deliver this message to you as soon as the show ended production.”
Jamie was still focused on her ankle, so I took the envelope and said thank you.
The concierge disappeared back into the crowd.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was a print out of an email sent to the hotel concierge in care of Jamie and Abigail.
“What does it say?” Quaid asked.
“It looks like our journey’s just begun,” I replied, handing him the email printout to read with Jamie.
The note read:
Made it to Johor in one piece. We must get you to our lab in Canada a.s.a.p. It’s imperative you meet me at the Punggol Jetty @ midnight tonight. Bring your passports.
-Tomas
P.S. Get Norris checked out. He may be infected.
The End.
Additional Works by B.M. Hodges
Horror
Zombie Fever 1: Origins
Tomas decides to spend the summer with his father, who works as a security guard for
Vitura Pharmaceuticals. Soon after his arrival, his father disappears without a trace.
Tomas searches for his father, only to discover Vitura is more than it seems to be.
Zombie Fever 2: Outbreak
A young woman is cast in a reality TV show. Zombies are running rampant.
The contestants race cars deep in the Zombie Quarantine Zone.
Who will become infected with zombie fever?
Who gets eaten by the zombie horde?
And most importantly, who wins the million dollar prize?
Zombie Fever 3: Evolution
In less than twenty-four hours, the Zombie Fever virus has mutated and is out of control.
Vitura has sent Jayden to hunt down Tomas and Abigail and bring them back, dead or alive.
Tomas must find Abigail and get to her to safety.
Only they can stop the virus from becoming a global killer.
Science Fiction
The Martian Escape Plan
(Coming in November 2012)
After leading a failed effort to colonize the Planet Earth,
Darius Janner thinks he’s finally found a way home.
Dystopian Rodent Literature
Buddy the Rat
An innocent rodent subjected to fickle fate.
Sent to a house filled with the worst of humanity.
Escaping and finding solace in a forbidden love.
Yet peace will not be had. Onward he travels...
Short Stories
Germaphobia Singapura (An Annoying Short Story)
Roy had always dreamed of living abroad in the tropics, somewhere remote and exotic.
So accepting the offer to teach in Singapore was a no-brainer.
But poor Roy failed to anticipate how living in one of the world's most
densely populated cities would arouse his intuitive preoccupation with cleanliness.
Naively Irrelevant (A Bitterly Short Story)
An ode to the anguish and bitterness of infidelity.
Thank you so much for purchasing this digital copy of Zombie Fever 2: Outbreak. I hope you've loved reading it as much as I loved writing it.
If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving me a review at Amazon.
About the Author
B.M. Hodges was born in Utah, U.S.A., in 1973. He studied in the United States and Singapore where he was awarded a Master's Degree in Literary Studies. He began his writing career in 2008 with the dystopian rodent literary novel Buddy the Rat. In 2012, he published Zombie Fever 1: Origins and Zombie Fever 2: Outbreak and, most recently, Zombie Fever 3: Evolution. He is currently living in South East Asia and working on the fourth installment of the Zombie Fever series that will be released in March 2013.
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Bonus Preview
Zombie Fever 3: Evolution
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Chapter One
Zombie Fever Quarantine Zone
Kota Tinggi, Malaysia
Tomas’ final glimpse of Abigail was bittersweet as the twin blades of the helicopter accelerated and the craft lifted away into the night sky. He was lying in a fetal-like position, trying to recover from the electric sting of the two barbs still lodged in his back. Using every ounce of strength he had left, he rose off the sticky tar roof and looked up at the helicopter, catching sight of Abigail one last time as she stared down at him through the round porthole.
The sound of the helicopter faded and then was gone.
There was a bang twenty yards to his right.
Turning slowly, he saw a horde of infected clawing and climbing over each other through the open door of the stairwell and lurching towards him, moaning in anticipation.
Tomas pivoted and ran in the opposite direction towards the edge of the four story shopping center, the flesh craving zombies on his heels. He leapt blindly off the side into the darkness, hoping beyond hope that something soft would break his landing.
But he didn’t get a chance to find out because his right leg became entangled in a mess of power lines less than a floor down. Instead of violently hitting the pavement, he ended up bobbing upside down, caught up in the wires. Fortunately, the city’s power had been off line for the last two days and the electrical lines were dead.
Zombies began tumbling over the edge of the building. They fell around him to the ground below, some crushing their skulls in a greenish pink spray of brains, others breaking arms, legs and backs, immobilized and left to bleed out their contagious goo onto the uneven surface of the parking lot below.
When it was over, there wasn’t a zombie left on the roof above; they’d all run off the side in the stampede.
Tomas pulled himself up and, hand over hand, found his way to the nearest power pole. He eased onto the thin wooden platform where an ancient transformer held vigil over t
he dead infected littering the walk below and took a ten minute breather to gather his thoughts and devise a plan.
Let’s see, I wrecked the limo when I slammed through the display window earlier. Hmm. I could try to steal one of those cars peppered through the lot below. But the chances of them having keys, let alone, being unlocked were slim. Shit. With all the roamers down there, there isn’t enough time to break a window and attempt to hot wire one without those half a dozen infected skulking around in the darkness noticing.
For the first time since he became involved in the zombie fever pandemic, Tomas was afraid that he might not make it out alive. It wasn’t the multitude of grotesquely swollen zombies infected with the original strain he was worried about. No, it was Vitura’s bio-engineered second generation of infected that frightened him. There were too many of those quick-on-their-feet mutated zombies in the vicinity for him to expect an escape on foot. From what he had observed on the hectic drive into town, there was at least one mutated zombie for every five zombies infected with the original strain. I’ll never make it to the fence before they ripped me to shreds. I need, at a minimum, several large caliber guns, a grenade belt and a protective bio-suit like the ones Abigail and her friend were wearing for the show. So I guess the SUV is my only chance to get out of here in one piece.
It was a long shot, but he decided that his only nearby means of escaping the quarantine zone was the abandoned SUV that the reality show team had left behind. That is, if it had keys and enough fuel to get him back to Johor. If it was locked, keyless or empty of fuel, it would mean certain death.
Zombie Fever: Outbreak Page 27