For fifteen more minutes Patrick Austin fielded as many questions as possible. The press gallery was in a rare feeding-frenzy, hungry for every small morsel of information. Finally, the President singled out a journalist from a well-known current affairs magazine. She was a middle-aged woman who had worked for many years as a newspaper reporter.
“Mary-Sue.”
The woman politely smiled her thanks and stood up. She had dark hair, carefully piled into a bun atop her head and a fussy, precise old-school voice.
“Thank you, Mr. President. Sir, I wanted to ask you how quickly this plague is spreading. We’ve seen shocking footage on our televisions but it’s hard to get a grasp on how severe the threat is to broader Asia and beyond. In your comments you described the plague as a potential ‘extinction event’. Is that alarmist?”
“Mary-Sue, I wish I was up here just being a politician, exaggerating everything because that’s how politicians behave. I’m not. Let me repeat that. I’m not exaggerating. This plague has already infected several million people on the Korean Peninsula and has most likely begun to spread to other parts of Asia. Our modern world makes transport incredibly fast. Japan, Vietnam, the Philippines, Taiwan – they’re all connected to the Korean Peninsula by dozens of commercial aircraft flights each day and countless shipping routes. And then there’s China – a population of over 1.4 billion people. If the plague spreads north, the effects could be globally catastrophic.”
Chapter 6:
BEIJING
PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA
The emergency meeting of the Politburo drew on through the night, each member of the Standing Committee aware that seconds counted. With every passing minute the undead virus was spreading closer to China. Businesses were closed and boarded over, the streets filled with lines of riot police and Army tanks. There were reports from the south that the sprawling city of Dandong was in the path of infected hordes that were streaming north from North Korea. The highways out of the city were choked with columns of fleeing refugees, as the fringes of the border-crossing metropolis caught fire and the sky turned black with smoke.
President Lin Xiang lit another cigarette and looked around the room of anxious, fearful faces. There were six other men at the table and Xiang knew them all well. They were all old men, all of them powerful, with prominent connections that ran like the roots of a tree through Chinese politics. Each of them was made formidable by their influence… and right now every one of them was filled with the white terror of helplessness.
“Yao? You are the Minister responsible for such military matters. What has happened in the past twenty-four hours?”
At the president’s right elbow, Minister Yao Junhui drew a deep breath and shuffled through a handful of papers laid out on the tabletop before him. His hands were shaking. He was seventy years old, a spare, skeletal man with wizened, deeply wrinkled face, and quickly thinning hair. He was tall, wearing an ill-fitting suit.
“Comrades, this disease…” he shook his head, choking on the words as his throat constricted with emotion… “This contagion has swept right across the Korean Peninsula. No one seems left alive. There has been no news or radio broadcasts from our towns that border North Korea and our military outposts and police stations are not responding. The American news reports we have all seen broadcast out of Seoul seem to match with what we are now experiencing ourselves – the contagion is spreading like wildfire, turning those who are infected into blood-frenzied monsters.”
“You tell us what we already know!” President Xiang’s voice erupted. Tempers in the room were frayed, nerves drawn tight. Beyond the walls of the building, Beijing’s night was filled with the wail of sirens and alarms. “What are you doing about this matter?”
Minister Yao swallowed hard. He looked panicked. “I have urgently activated our Northern Theater Command troops in the Shenyang Military Region,” the elderly man’s voice wavered. “The first units to confront the infected will be elements of our 16th Group Army. They are urgently mobilizing from their headquarters in Changchun. The 40th Group Army at Jinzhou has been placed on standby. All leave has been cancelled across the country. Every soldier, sailor and pilot has been ordered to report to their bases and to prepare for imminent mobilization. Our Army and Air Force are on high alert.”
There was a jerking nod of heads around the table by the ashen-faced men who ruled the nation.
“We should declare a state of martial law in the Shenyang Military Region, and in the Beijing Military Region also,” said an arrogant, gruff voice from the far end of the table. All heads turned. Minister Without Portfolio, Yi Dan, glared defiantly at his fellow Politburo members as if daring them to object. Yi was a close confidant of the president and one of the few remaining hard line Communists. He had clung to power through his political connections, railing and warning against the nation’s progressive shift towards nationalism… and away from the communist ideals that had dominated Chinese life since the 1949 revolution. “It is the only way to control the spread of the contagion,” Yi punctuated each word with a jab of his gnarled finger. “We must clamp down like a vice on the free movement of people. We must forbid planes to fly or trains to carry people until this infection can be contained and those already filled with the virus exterminated and their bodies burned.”
Out of the corner of his eye, president Xiang saw a couple of other heads at the table nodding tentative agreement, including Minister of Foreign Affairs, Qian Hua. Qian and Yi Dan between them represented a powerful and influential political block in Chinese politics.
“And our military response, Comrade Yao, must be stronger,” Yi continued. “You send one Group Army to face the swarm of infected, and yet their number is already many millions. Do you think our new tanks and aircraft and guns will be able to stop these plague-carriers?” the Minister made a contemptible snort and flapped his bony hand dismissively. “The Chinese Army has always been made strong by its numbers. We must bring more troops to action. We must form an iron break wall across the border with North Korea.”
“It is too late, Comrade Yi,” the Minister responsible for the nation’s military sounded wheedling. “The infected are close to Dandong. The city is on fire.”
“And what of ourselves?” another voice spoke in the small moment of silence. It was Qian. “We are the leadership of our people. We must be made safe, for it is to us that people will look for guidance and leadership through this crisis and beyond it. We and our families must be evacuated from Beijing.”
No one spoke. It was a thought that had crossed all of their minds, yet none had dared raise the issue until this moment. Greater than even the survival of China, was their own lives – and that of their wives and children, and perhaps some selected, most-favored mistresses.
All of the men had wives and children, just as all of them took their youngest and prettiest secretaries to their beds. They were the most powerful men in the country, and that power had a great many privileges. But first they needed to ensure their own survival.
“There will be time for that,” the president said reluctantly. It was not that he did not want to consider the matter, yet he felt duty bound first to show resolve, determination and leadership. He stubbed out the butt of his cigarette into a brimming ashtray and immediately lit another.
“First we must consider the idea proposed by Minister Yi Dan to declare martial law in the Shenyang and Beijing military regions.”
The vote was passed unanimously. Minister Yi sat back in his chair, satisfied.
Around the edges of the room rustled the constant movement of advisors and those other members of the wider Politburo. They came to the edges of the table, passing notes and messages to the members of the Standing Committee, and then fading into the shadows once more. The president saw a piece of paper slid before him and he glanced down at it.
“I would like to address the Standing Committee.”
President Xiang blinked, then turned in his seat. Standing on the pe
riphery of the room he recognized one of the Politburo members who was too junior and without enough influence to be considered for the Standing Committee. He was a man in his early sixties and was the Communist Party Secretary for the Xinjiang region. He was a clever man with a dedicated career serving the state and the party and was considered to be one of the bright young stars of China’s leadership future.
Again, President Xiang blinked. Then he rapped his knuckle on the desk once. The men around the table fell quiet.
“This is extraordinary,” he announced, “but so is this moment in history. For that reason, I am going to permit another Politburo Member from outside of the Standing Committee to speak.”
Tong Ge came forward and bowed respectfully. He was wearing a dark grey suit and a black tie. He stood straight, with his shoulders back. The men seated around the table looked at him expectantly.
“Ministers,” Tong spoke deferentially, “it is right that we impose Martial Law to stop unrestricted movement of citizens through the north of our country. And it is hoped that this measure combined with Minister Yao’s swift and decisive military response will keep the infected invaders from spreading this disease across China. However…” Tong paused dramatically. So far he had been careful to heap praise on the decisions of the Standing Committee and cause no offense. “However, there is perhaps another idea worthy of your consideration, should the disease break through the barriers we set in place and begin to spread into the densely populated regions around the country – for we know that should this happen, the undead infection will gain the tremendous momentum of many millions more that will carry the virus.” He paused to gauge the expressions on the faces that were watching him. He had their attention, but already they were becoming impatient. Tong went on, firming his voice.
“I propose a contingency plan in case urgent steps are required to evacuate the population – and our leadership.”
The president looked a little irritated. “Make your point, Tong.”
“Chinese interests own over one hundred thousand merchant ships, and seventy percent of these vessels fly the Chinese flag, meaning we have direct control over them,” he began. “Some of these ships are huge super-tankers and massive freight carriers. Others are smaller merchant vessels… but they all could carry people instead of cargo. We could fill our many ports with these ships and load them with people for evacuation. Perhaps there would be time to make some allowances for accommodation, but regardless, if each ship carried even just one hundred people, we could save many millions from this terrible plague. If we could supply each ship with enough food for a month, then we could assemble an armada in the South China Sea, defended by our capable navy until the fate of the world is decided. On the ocean they would be safe – isolated and free of contagion.”
There were gasps and rustled movement from around the table. The president looked wide-eyed with a mix of surprise and feint hope. “Tong? Is such a thing possible?”
Tong nodded. “If we are quick, president, I believe it is possible. We would need the support of the army and the co-operation of the ports. We have thirty-four major ports and over one thousand minor ports. Most of our major ship-handling facilities are along the Yellow Sea, the East China Sea and the South China Sea – as far from the border with North Korea as possible. If we act quickly and decisively, I believe this is possible. At any one time twenty percent of our merchant ships are docked in Chinese ports, so we already have a great many ships that could be supplied and used for evacuations. All other ships currently at sea must be ordered to return urgently to China.”
Minister Yao asked uncertainly, “Where would they go, Tong?”
“Minister, perhaps we could assemble the armada in the South China Sea. They need go nowhere at all. If the contagion is defeated and the undead exterminated, then they can return to China and we can begin to rebuild our country. If the contagion becomes a worldwide pandemic, we could wait to see which countries remain free of the infection…”
“How could we accomplish so vast an undertaking? There is no time.”
“Minister, we would need the help of the army. Mao himself once said, We have an army for fighting as well as an army for labor. For fighting, we have the Eighth Route and New Fourth Armies but even they do a dual job, warfare and production. With these two kinds of armies, and with a fighting army skilled in these two tasks and in mass work, we can overcome our difficulties.”
It was an audacious plan – the largest maritime movement of people in the history of the world. As a logistical exercise it would dwarf the D-Day landings of Allied armies during the Second World War. Minister Yi Dan stared at the younger man with cunning eyes.
“We once had a plan similar in concept to re-capture Taipei,” he used the Chinese name for Taiwan. “An amphibious invasion using modified merchant ships to ferry troops and equipment under the cloak of disguise. It was called Operation ‘Red Claw’.”
Tong looked surprised. He bowed respectfully. “Minister, I did not know this.”
The older Minister Without Portfolio glanced along the table to where the president sat. He caught Xiang’s eye and nodded his head – a barely perceptible movement.
President Xiang wrapped his knuckles on the tabletop to call attention to himself. “We will vote,” he declared. “All those who support Comrade Tong’s contingency plan?”
The vote was unanimous. The president went on. “Minister Yi, it is you who should supervise this project.”
“No,” the old man shook his head. “I am too old. This needs a young man’s urgency and passion. I believe it should be given to Tong to oversee. But perhaps I can lend some assistance,” he said with artful tact, “to smooth away any administrative obstacles.”
Around the room there were more murmurs and nods of consensus. The president inclined his head in acceptance. “Very well. Tong Ge will be declared by this meeting as the Special Minister in charge of this evacuation, and will be given access to all he needs and assistance from every level of government.”
Tong Ge bowed deeply. “It will be my honor,” he said with a choke of pride in his voice.
THE OVAL OFFICE
THE WHITE HOUSE
President Austin tried to bear the indignity of being covered in pancake makeup, but his stoicism was tested in such a public setting. The Oval Office was filled with White House staff and television network technicians – each of them witness to the President’s humiliation.
He fidgeted in a chair against the wall while the make-up artist did her best. Press Secretary, Rita May, hovered by POTUS’ shoulder, like an anxious corner assistant in the moments before her fighter takes to the ring.
Over the background of bustling noise and activity a voice called out, “Two minutes!”
The woman applying the President’s makeup tugged the tissues from his collar and stood back for a moment to admire her work. She smiled.
“Thank you,” Austin remembered his manners.
Rita May was impressed. The President’s ashen pallor and the dark smudges of fatigue beneath his eyes had magically vanished. He looked calm and confident as he strode to the desk and settled himself in the big leather chair.
“One minute!”
The floor of the Oval Office was a tangle of cables and camera equipment. In the shadows and out of the glaring spotlights, Secret Service agents mingled with network personnel. Suddenly the room fell quiet.
Off to the side of the camera-man a floor manager from the television networks began counting down the seconds. President Austin snatched a last look at his notes, and then focused on the scrolling screen of the teleprompter.
“My fellow Americans, earlier today I spoke at length to the Washington media about the developing crisis on the Korean Peninsula. Now, I am speaking directly to you.
“Kim Jong-un’s terrorist regime has fired what analysts believe to be an outlawed biological weapon into the heart of Seoul. Many of you will already have seen the harrowing news footage being
streamed from the war-zone. Those chilling, gruesome images will haunt us, and mankind, because the contagion unleashed has placed the entire world in danger.
“Already many millions are believed to be infected by this plague-like abomination that is spreading throughout the Korean Peninsula. Sadly, no cure yet exists, and because of that, many, many more will become infected.
“Governments around the world are mobilizing to deal with the threat of plague upon their own nations. Here in America, we have acted swiftly and decisively to ensure the USA’s safety.
“This biological weapon attack is a threat to our way of life, our freedoms. The victims were innocent citizens in Seoul’s most populous suburbs. The infected are secretaries, business men, children… and soldiers. Millions of lives have already been ended by a moment of callous evil madness. Sadly, that death toll will inevitably climb.
“The pictures we have seen filmed from the streets of Seoul have filled us with terrible distress and fear. This terrorist attack, implemented at the orders of Kim Jong-un, marks a precarious moment for mankind. Only through bravery and boldness, through resolve and determination, can we prevail.
“Immediately following confirmation of the attack, I and my Cabinet decided to implement an emergency response plan. Our first priority is to isolate America from the Asian infection, and to protect our citizens from contracting this plague.
“To that end, I am declaring a national emergency for the duration of this crisis. Effective immediately, all international flights into America will be cancelled. Those flights already in the air are being turned back. Our International airports and harbors will be closed to all traffic. Our Navy and Air Force have orders to enforce a strict blockade. I have also decided to build a solid wall across our border joining Mexico and reinforce our current northern border with thousands of troops. Gas rationing will come into force across the country. More details on these measures will be released in due course through the relevant authorities.”
Dead Storm: The Global Zombie Apocalypse Page 18