by B. M. Hodges
He turned to Eli. The collision of his helmet against Vines helmet had broken his visor; his dead eyes were wide open in a permanent look of terror. On closer examination, Jayden saw that one of the metal arms securing the Hopper around his torso had sheared in two and penetrated his chest cavity right below the rib cage, piercing his heart.
Sitting between the two bodies, he tried to repress the anger he felt towards Eli and the sorrow for his injured colleague.
Completing my mission takes precedence above all else.
He would have to recover the samples and the girls on his own. He took the waist pack off Eli’s corpse and tried to make Vines as comfortable as possible. She seemed stable, but was still unconscious. The best he could do for Vines was leave her until he captured their targets and collected the samples. Then he could try to retrieve her and get her medical attention. The mission is all that matters. She’s a soldier and would do the same. He injected her with a strong dose of sedatives from his field pack. He could have finished her off then with another dose, but didn’t believe that he had the right.
“I’ll get back to the ship with a few hours to spare and come get you, I promise.” Jayden told his unconscious colleague.
“VIRaL control. VIRaL control. Tippy-toe. Tippy-toe. Do you copy?” Jayden whispered into his com.
“This is control. Tippy-tai-toe, over.”
“There’s been an accident. Delta 1 is down and Tango 3 is out, over.”
Jayden held his breath, waiting for the order to abort.
After a few minutes, there as a click and Supervisor Bertrand’s voice slithered into his ear, “You are to proceed with the mission, Sergeant. And Jayden, we’ve received word that Tomas is on the island. If at all possible, take all three alive.”
“Yes, sir,” Jayden replied.
There was another audible click and Specialist Crawford said, “Sergeant Jayden, sir. What’s your status? Delta 1’s vitals are very faint and I’m getting nothing from Tango 3, over.”
Jayden looked back at Vines lying helpless and vulnerable. “Nothing I can’t handle. Keep an eye on Delta 1’s readings. Alert me if you see any changes.” He paused and then risking insubordination charges, asked, “Are we on a secure line?”
“Of course,” Crawford answered. Like Jayden, his loyalties to the company only went so far as the terms of his employment contract.
Jayden whispered quickly into the com, “I’ll lead another party in to retrieve Delta 1 after the mission, over. Prep a drone. Remove the ordinance and make room in the payload bays for three warm bodies. In and out, over.”
There was another pause on the other side, “Affirmative, Jayden. Watch yourself. My prayers are with you.”
He did a hasty recon of the rooftop to ensure that there was no else around to harm his injured colleague. Then he barricaded the two stairwell doors leading to the floors below with air-conditioning units he’d ripped out off their platforms.
As he was checking the south end of the rooftop, he happened to glance across at the other five rooftops that made up the block of flats and noticed movement on the furthest of them. He pulled down his visor and switched on augmented visuals. The visor came online, reading where his eyes were focused and adjusting the night vision and magnification accordingly.
There was a small mob gathered in a semicircle, most of them armed with kitchen knives, frying pans and chair legs. Inside the circle and leaning against the low wall lining the edge of the roof were four women, two men and a child huddled together in a state of terror.
Three men from the mob rushed forward, grabbed one of the women and heaved her over the wall and off the roof. She plunged down the fifteen stories. Jayden could hear her scream abruptly cut off when she hit the pavement below.
He continued to watch, not able to pull away as the rest of the mob rushed their remaining captives and pushed them all over the side. When they were finished, they dispersed and disappeared down the stairwells into the darkened building.
Jayden looked more closely at the ground below and saw bodies, too many to count, strewn along the ground like broken fruit.
He scanned further in the distance at the sidewalks and driveways surrounding the multitude of apartment buildings. By now, everyone on the island suspected there was contagion spreading through the populace and that those infected with it were attacking the healthy, biting and consuming their flesh. Those who were bit and survived the attacks quickly turned into flesh-eaters themselves. It was a nightmare scenario for Singaporeans and they were taking no chances. As he had witnessed, they were killing family members and neighbors that showed signs of flu-like symptoms, just in case they were infected with the contagion.
Unsure how to process this information, Jayden decided it was time to move. He crossed back to where Vines lay, gave her a kiss on the forehead and left her lying there beside the man who may have condemned her to a pointless death.
Chapter Eight
Vitura International Research Laboratory Ship
Singapore Strait/International Waters
Supervisor Bertrand took a sip of water, scanning the faces of Singapore’s bureaucracy huddled in their tidy conference room deep underground.
Prime Minister Cheung, such a strong jaw on him, waved his hands wildly in the air and the rest of his cabinet nodded as he spoke. His military chiefs were also nodding, but Bertrand saw those eagle eyes locking with one another as though they had a private conversation going at the same time.
Bertrand sneered and waived his hand at them dismissively.
Thank God for the holoscope, he thought. I couldn’t imagine actually having to sit among them, cloistered in what could very well be their tomb if they don’t agree with the WHO directive to evacuate the country’s leaders before nuclear hellfire consumed on their piss-ant country.
He activated his side of the holoscope.
The conference room went silent, all attention now on Bertrand’s holo which was now sitting in the previously vacant seat on the opposite end of the conference table.
Bertrand chose to forego a formal introduction. It was an unnecessary pleasantry as they had already been sent the data packet that contained details of Vitura Pharmaceuticals, including a full screening of him as head of VIRaL operations. It also held the WHO’s directive to evacuate Singapore’s leaders.
Bertrand began. “Prime Minister Cheung, dignified Ladies and Gentlemen of the Cabinet, Generals. First of all, let me offer you my sincerest condolences for the heartbreaking circumstances that have befallen your proud and glorious country.”
Glorious? A bit much, but they are in such a state of anxiety, I could pour on the sarcasm and it’s doubtful they would notice.
“Please allow me to give you my take on the present state of affairs. Then we can discuss evacuation procedures. As you know, the WHO has confirmed that Singapore is suffering from an outbreak with characteristics similar to that of zombie fever, but much more virulent and deadly. The infection plaguing your country spreads far faster than anything they’ve encountered before. To make matters worse, there are no physical markers to differentiate the sick from the healthy. It’s only their overly violent and aggressive behavior, their crazed hunger for flesh and the accompanying rage associated with that need that sets them apart.”
Bertrand continued. “Tragically, at the rate of transmission occurring across your country, it’s just a matter of time before this new form of zombie fever spreads from your borders, if it hasn’t done so already. The WHO has come to the decision that containment outweighs the need to save those Singaporeans who haven’t yet succumbed to the virus. Like Guangzhou and Hetang Island, the population of Singapore will have to be sacrificed to stop this potential global killer.”
He paused while they gathered themselves, some Ministers were weeping openly, and others stared vacantly ahead.
Prime Minister Cheung, however, was resolute. “We’ve examined the directive, Mr. Bertrand. We are well aware of the final decision
. But Singapore will not go down without fighting. As we speak, our UN representative is appealing for a stay of the order’s execution. There is no evidence these riots stem from an outbreak of mutant zombie fever. There isn’t even any evidence of a new strain of IHS. The first indication of street violence occurred less than twelve hours ago. We are requesting another twenty-four hours for assessment and to give us time to get the situation under control and minimize casualties to our people. The nuclear decision doesn’t have to be the only option. Our military is up to the task.”
There were two Royal Navy nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarines in the South China Sea ready to launch at 0600. Bertrand had orders to steer his ship clear of the blast zone at least one hour before or risk being caught in fallout.
Bertrand gave the Prime Minister his most sympathetic look. “Dear sir, if it were up to me, you’d have as much time as you need to get the situation under control. Unfortunately, it’s not my call. My orders are to evacuate you and your families as soon as possible. There’s not a chance the WHO will back down from an order of this magnitude. Please let me help in the only way that I can. This is your only chance to leave the country. There is no other way out of Singapore. The blockade has orders to destroy any vessel leaving your country and air travel would be equally foolish, what with the satellite missile platforms now positioned directly overhead.”
Prime Minister Cheung’s determination turned to understandable anger, “Mr. Bertrand, we will not abandon our people. The world may have turned its back on our plight, but that doesn’t mean we will cower and run. We are declining your offer of evacuation.”
One of the cabinet members began to wail and the minister sitting next to him pulled his face into her bosom.
“However, staying is our decision and our families do not deserve the same fate. They are now being assembled in a secure location and will be sent to your vessel within the next hour. Take care of them, kind sir, and we thank you for your assistance.”
Prime Minister Cheung gestured to have the connection severed as more ministers broke out in sobs.
Bertrand was again left in the gray light of the holoscope terminal as the screens powered down.
He detested spending so much time playing multiple roles of ambassador, politician and subordinate. If only I had been more cautious with the field tests of IHS-2, I would still be in full control of Operation Earth-Friendly with complete authority over how to administer the project.
But look at the bright side, he mused. All evidence of my involvement will be nothing but irradiated dust by this time tomorrow. Even if Sergeant Jayden fails to retrieve the girls, they won’t live long enough to expose Vitura’s involvement, let alone fall into the hands of Tomas. While capturing the girls and Tomas would be a bonus, he was in the clear either way. He would be able to ease back in to Operation Earth-Friendly and, one country at a time, inoculate the deserving and wealthy, unleash zombie fever on the rest and save the Earth from humanity’s disastrous unchecked population explosion.
Chapter Nine
Punggol Jetty and Marina
Punggol, Singapore
Behind the restaurants, Tomas found the abandoned offices of the jetty’s management. There was a maritime map of Singapore pinned on one of the walls and it gave him an idea. With his finger, he traced the blue line of the Selatar River as it snaked into the interior of Singapore, ending outside Bukit Timah near Bishan where Abigail and Jamie lived.
It had been an hour since their scheduled rendezvous and Tomas felt he had waited long enough for the girls. With each passing minute, the chances of escaping Singapore safely with the girls diminished. Either they were trapped somewhere on the island or they were already dead. He had no choice but to venture into the interior. Somehow he felt oddly optimistic that Abigail was alive and that he would find her.
He stepped out of the office and stealthily jogged to the enormous barn-like structure across the parking lot, its large ramp descending into the water where the freshwater river met the strait. The barn was constructed out of sheet metal and was packed with pleasure boats and water skis under different states of repair. He treaded lightly, remaining vigilant to the danger of errant zombies who may have wandered inside and became disoriented in the maze of Bayline slick riders and Yatoshi wave skimmers.
He wished he could take a wave skimmer up the river. The trip would take ten to fifteen minutes at the most. But they were incredibly noisy and he didn’t intend to draw any unnecessary attention. So he searched for non-motorized water vehicles which he found in the aisle closest to the ramp. There, he found what he was looking for: a canoe tipped upside down and resting inside a five-man dragon boat.
He hoisted the canoe out of the larger vessel and carried it over above his head down the ramp, gently setting it down with its hull halfway in the water. Then he jogged up the ramp and, after searching through the canoe paddles, settled on one of the wooden dragon boat paddles. It was longer, roughly fifty inches long, with a horizontal grip at the top of the vertical handle that made a “T.” He swung it around a few times and, satisfied that it would make a decent weapon, pushed off in the canoe.
A waxing gibbous moon had risen above, nearly as bright as a full moon. It was a clear night and Tomas could see for some distance, but he wasn’t sure whether that was for the best since the infected would be able to spot him as well. And if these zombies act like their slower brethren, they’ll be more active here in the night as the high temperature is significantly less brutal than in the daylight hours.
Paddling the boat was a chance to put his daily workout of yoga, sprint bursts and body-toning to the test. His arms became one with the paddle as he stroked the water, setting the boat on an upstream course and doing his best to keep the craft steadily in the center of the river.
Ten minutes into his canoeing, Tomas noticed that he was approaching an expressway bridge high above the water. He continued paddling, keeping an eye turned upward, unsure of what, if anything, he would see from so far below. It wasn’t until he was within shouting distance that he noticed bodies dangling from the beams above, hung over the bridge with rope, utility cords, sheets - anything that could be used for an old-fashioned lynching. There was no way to tell if the bodies swinging above in the breeze had been zombies or normal healthy human beings.
He continued onward.
As he got further into the wetlands, the river became narrower.
At first, he had been traveling with a water barrier of sixty yards on either side and he’d felt safe from any attacks from the shore. But now it had narrowed to less than twenty.
Along the right side of the river, a hiking path appeared beside the waterway. This must be the Sengkang district I saw on the map, he thought as tall blocks of residential apartments nearly consumed the river.
A woman’s screech broke the silence, “Argh! Help me! Help me!”
Tomas squinted towards the hiking path, now a mere fifteen yards of water away. A figure burst onto the trail carrying a flashlight, which made her an excellent target. She was frantic as three presumably infected men close in behind her.
Helplessly, Tomas watched as the men caught up to her. The first one leaped on her back, tackling her roughly to the ground. The other two took her flailing legs and pulled them like a wishbone.
They tore through her flesh like rabid dogs.
It was a blood frenzy.
Gently dipping the row back into the water, he continued forward. He didn’t think an infected would remember how to swim, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
He moved further along and the river turned into a cement canal, the natural shore of jungle growth and mangroves morphing into twelve-foot high walls. Then the depth of the water suddenly dropped to less than three feet. He kept scraping the bottom with the oar as he pushed along.
The map didn’t give any indication that the river would turn into a storm run-off channel three quarters of the way in. It was disappointing because Tomas
estimated he had another three miles to travel before reaching Bishan and he really didn’t want to travel by land.