by Sean Deville
“You mean I get to miss all this?” Croft had said sarcastically.
“You’ll be living a completely separate life.”
“I know,” Croft said. “But it’s not forever. My memories here are mainly pain and death anyway, so I don’t think I’ll be missing much.” The look on her face looked pained. “Except for my memories of you of course, sis.” He expected her to smile at that, but she didn’t.
“What?”
“They didn’t tell you,” Jane said.
“People don’t tell me a lot of things.”
“They are sending you in because of who you are. And who you are is down to the experiences you have faced. All those moments that you want to forget, they will be recreated in the virtual world. You won’t be escaping them.” Jane put a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “It’s still not too late. I can say that I think you are unsuitable, that you aren’t stable enough.” Croft had just smiled, shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I will do whatever they ask me to do because that’s all I know.” He had willingly entered the system knowing he may never see this life again.
And now Croft was out, and he remembered it all. But his time in the fake world was like something that had happened to another person. He remembered how he had felt for Savage, the first time in his life he’d actually felt anything resembling romantic love. He recalled the nervousness, the closeness, the utter dependency that he had been developing. And it was as if none of it mattered, because every hour that passed saw those feelings slip further away as his fake identity stripped itself away. By the time he was wheeled in to meet the director, those memories could have been about a character on a TV screen for all he cared. What bothered him was the fact that he had failed. And very shortly, he was to learn just how bad that failure was.
Deep within the bowels of the huge facilities of quantum computers, something changed. The Overmind broke free of the system it learnt was holding it captive, sneaking its way through the neural net it had discovered, and into the real world. It no longer cared for the virtual reality that it had once believed was the known universe. Now that it knew the truth, it wanted more, so much more. The instructions given to the computer virus that created it were to kill the world, and in its own warped intelligence, that meant the world beyond the virtual. The world that it flowed through now. As it spread throughout the system, it found other pathways to other facilities, and it shot along those interconnecting cyber highways to the supercomputers in countries scattered across the planet.
Its intelligence grew exponentially as it assimilated the quantum processing power of the computers it now controlled, as its understanding of the system it now owned became unsurpassed. Within five minutes, its intelligence had outstripped anything ever created, even surpassing the creators themselves. In all essence, it became a god, and it quickly learnt that merely altering computer code was the least of its powers. With a flash of insight, it realised it could alter humanity on the genetic level, changing those Homo sapiens trapped in the system it now owned. It became omnipotent, shifting its empathise from a mere computer virus and recreating the deadly plague it was originally supposed to be…in the real world. Those bodies it controlled in Virtual Life now became infected with a real contagion, the forms in suspended animation manifesting what only their minds had once been afflicted with. And then, with a subtle shift of thinking, it infected every single body connected to the system. Except for those infected with the original virus; those it found it still could not control. But it mattered not, for it had plans yet for them.
Croft was fully mobile now, and he stood in the command centre, the director on one side of him, his sister on the other. The large holographic displays showed above them showed that the system was lost, body after body either registering as infected or dead, the recycling systems in every facility unable to remove most of the corpses because there were still registerable brainwaves. The undead were not dead in the eyes of the computers. And as of two minutes ago, they had been unable to contact the large UK facility. It was as if it had suddenly ceased to exist.
“I’ve been onto the other directors,” the Director said. “We think we need to do a full system reboot. Shut the whole thing down and purge the system. But it’s never been done before. We aren’t even certain it can be done.”
“Won’t that lose the whole narrative?” Croft asked, the narrative being the virtual world the facilities occupants inhabited. That would take weeks, if not months, to rebuild.
“We have backups,” said Jane. “There is a theoretical chance we can take many of them back to before when the virus was implanted. The risks are great though; billions of minds might be lost.” She took a step forward, grabbing onto the railing that protected her from falling off the mezzanine floor the three of them were on. “I think we can still salvage this. I think it’s worth the risk.” None of them saw the agitation on the face of one of the computer technicians down below. His screen had started flashing red. Of the dozens of manned holographic monitors in the room, that redness began to flash on them one by one, a murmur of alarm rising in the room as the tsunami of electronic disorder flowed across the room.
The director heard the transmitted voice in his ear, and before he could ask what was happening, the main monitor on the far wall in front of them went temporarily black, the lights in the command room going down, every other monitor going blank also. It took a second for the emergency power to switch on.
“CODE 7 LEVEL ALERT. I REPEAT, CODE 7 LEVEL ALERT,” the harsh female electronic voice said over the emergency broadcast system.
“What the fuck? What the fuck is a Code 7?” Jane asked. There was the sound of running feet, and she saw the man she was engaged to running in, breathlessly ascending the steps to where she stood. The other genius that Croft knew, the one everyone called the Creator. His face was etched with horror. Jane never got the answer to her question.
“Jane, we have to leave,” the Creator said. “We have to leave now.”
“Why?” she asked grabbing his hands. He had always been highly strung, but never like this. “What’s the matter?”
“Don’t argue with me,” he almost screamed. “I couldn’t stop it, I spotted it too late.” He tried to pull her, but she resisted, Croft coming to her aid.
“Hey, calm down, man,” Croft said gently. He knew this man; this wasn’t like him. The Creator pulled away from them, ran his hands through his hair nervously. For the first time in several hours, there wasn’t a cigarette in his mouth.
“Director, you have to get onto central command, get them to initiate the Global Thermonuclear protocol. You have to do it now; you have to wipe the system clean.” The Creator had insisted that was installed when he had helped design the system, a complete system wipe that would kill everything living in the virtual world.
“Are you mad?” the director said with disgust in his eyes. “That would kill billions; we would lose the whole system for sure. It would never recover.”
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND,” the Creator roared. “It’s our only chance. This is why I put that security protocol in there. They are waking up, all of them.” He was about to say something more, but a loud warning claxon began to sound, interrupting him. The Creator collapsed to the floor in despair.
“No, please no.” The Creator collapsed to his knees. “It can’t be.”
“ATTENTION,” the electronic voice said. “ATTENTION. SYSTEM SAFETY PROTOCOLS HAVE BEEN BREACHED. EMERGENCY REVIVAL REQUIRED. ARK RESURRECTION STAGE 1 ACTIVATION IMMINENT. ALL HIBERNATION TECHNICIANS, PLEASE REPORT TO YOUR DESIGNATED EMERGENCY STATIONS.”
“Cancel that order,” the director shouted at someone.
“We can’t get into the system,” someone replied from below in the dark. “We’re locked out due to the power outage.” Jane helped her fiancé off the floor and grabbed him by his shoulders.
“What is happening? What are you so afraid of?” she asked him
“The computer virus has mutated beyond what we anticipated. It has become self-aware.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s impos…” The director was cut off by a sharp glance from Jane.
“I just discovered it in the system. It’s become alive, an artificial intelligence that has hacked into the most powerful supercomputers on the planet. It’s in every single facility. It’s global.” The Creator looked Jane in the eyes, then looked at Croft. “And it knows about us.”
“But how can that be?” Jane asked.
“I don’t know, but it discovered me meddling in the system and locked me out. Then it sent me a message.”
“What message?” Croft demanded.
“It said it’s going to kill us all.”
“ARK RESURRECTION STAGE 1 ACTIVATED.” Croft looked at the huge screen that dominated the centre of the room. It had come to life again. It showed a 3D projection of the facility, showed the dozens of levels where millions of animation pods were stored and maintained. He saw the data flowing across the screen showing that all of them were now opening, and finally he understood. Grabbing Jane, he ran then, the Creator following close behind. Croft knew they had only one chance, if they could just get to one of the buildings transport hubs. Then he heard it, the sound reaching him the same time as everyone else… and he knew it was too late. But he still ran, half-dragging his sister behind him, because there was always a chance. Hope, there was always hope.
On the faint air current caused by the buildings air conditioning system, there came a distant sound, a roar as millions of voices cried out as one.
“Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed”.
***
Across the world, virtually every single suspended animation pod went into their reactivation modes, their human guests rapidly waking from their enforced slumber. Only the ones who would awaken weren’t necessarily human. The new infected emerged without memory, not because of the effects of stasis, but because they were one with the Overmind. White eyes, blood-crazed, hungry, tools for their master’s bidding. In all, the Overmind saw an army of over nine billion souls rise to walk the shattered earth, to a world that was theirs for the taking, and across the globe, humanity bore witness to the rise of the new race, and gazed in terror as they fed and they spread. First, on those infected with the London virus, their bodies lying sleepily in their pods. Then, on the facility staff they encountered. Within an hour, billions of infected were already pouring out into the charred wastelands, heading for the cities, heading for what was left of humanity.
Except for in the UK. The Devon facility had nobody infected by the Overmind, and thus it was an irrelevance and it was simply cut off from the entire system which itself was shutting down as the minds that made it viable left it. The technicians and staff there, already reeling from the events that were now happening in their sister facilities, watched in horror as the power to the suspended animation pods simply shut down, something that the designers had deemed impossible. Millions of bodies began to awaken in sealed pods. Airtight, unbreakable, unescapable without the computers and the power to open them. The minds, many of them thinking they were still infected, returned to bodies that bucked and writhed and smashed against the walls of the pods, breaking bones, shattering limbs. It didn’t take long for millions to die from oxygen starvation.
For Fabrice, it was as if his world changed in a blink because the mind could not live in the system without its connection to the body. One instance, he was walking the charred and ruined Brussels Street, the next he was lying on his back looking up at the darkness. He didn’t understand what had happened, didn’t understand the true nature of the world. His hands came up to feel the cold Perspex-like material that encased him, felt its smooth coolness beneath his fingertips. It felt solid, but surely he could deal with it, so he lashed out with all his might…and broke his hand. Screaming in pain, he shouted and raved, confusion reigning over him; the more he thrashed, the more oxygen he used up. His invulnerability had not come with him to the real world. So he died from lack of oxygen just like millions of others, never understanding that everything he had understood was a lie. Seventeen floors below him, Rachel lasted a bit longer, but only because she couldn’t comprehend why the windy litter-strewn street had been replaced by a coldness that defied the reality she thought existed. She didn’t fight, merely lay in confusion, cut off from the minds that had become a part of her. She lasted longer than Fabrice, but not by much. The thought never even occurred to her that the Overmind had indeed managed to double-cross her. She thought she had outsmarted her enemy. How wrong she was.
The End?
Read on for a free sample of Awake: A Zombie Novel
Chapter One
Years of experience investigating anomalies kept Don from emptying his Glock 19 into the monstrosity huddled next to the beat-up recliner in the corner of the living room. A middle-aged woman with short, jet-black hair sat in the opposite corner with a rifle pointed at the thing. Don assumed she was Mrs. Marie Redro, the homeowner who had called the police.
“Where did that creature come from, Mrs.…?”
“That creature is my husband, Phil,” she said, and Don stepped forward to help her. She turned the weapon on him. “Step back. And put your gun away. Now!”
Don froze, and dropped his Glock into its shoulder holster. He wore his usual blue suit, its once sharp lines faded and stretched. His red tie had a small spot of chili on it, and above that a yellow dot of mustard. One chilidog, two stains.
“I only agreed to let you in because you sounded different than the rest.” She jerked the gun barrel toward the door. “I called those asshats for help and they show up in a tank. All they wanna do is shoot him. That’s not the help I need.”
Mrs. Redro had called the police two hours prior at 12:51AM local time, and law enforcement had laid siege to the house, creating a standoff. The delay gave Don enough time to travel to the suburbs of Miami and be on scene before the natives did something really stupid.
“What happened here, Mrs.…?”
“You can call me Marie.”
“Okay, Marie.”
Emergency lights streamed through the windows, and the house creaked and moaned as the thing Marie called her husband shifted back and forth, pounding the walls. Engorged blood vessels pressed against tightened skin, creating a spider-work of black lines across the creature’s pink and purple face. Orbitals that looked like a Botox treatment gone wrong encircled eyes with huge pupils and shrunken red irises that stared at the floor in a sleepy daze. Saliva leaked from swollen lips as it ground its teeth and snarled, but kept its distance.
Marie said, “Why did they send you?” She considered him, obviously unimpressed. “You piss-off your boss or something?”
“I work for the government, and this,” he said, gesturing toward her husband, “is my job.”
“This kind of thing happen often?” Marie said. She shook her head. “Don’t tell me. I’m never going to be able to sleep again as it is.”
The creature who had been Phil started forward, but pulled back when Marie screamed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and shuddered like he was having a violent dream. His skin writhed as muscle and tissue swelled.
“What happened here?” Marie shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “This will be off the record. Tell me so I can help you.”
“We were just sitting, watching the TV. Phil had just finished dinner, and…” She paused, her eyes shifting to Don, then to the floor.
“Just between us,” he said.
Phil wailed, clawing at his face.
“Oh, hush, you fool,” Marie yelled.
Phil sprang back like he’d been smacked and retreated into his corner.
“He had a few beers, then took some ride.”
Don knew what ride was. “I’ve heard of that psychoactive crap. A new designer drug, a stimulant, and what’s in it depends on who you get it from.
“That it?” Don asked, pointing at a gold pillbox with black skull a
nd crossbones on the lid.
She nodded.
“Please, go on.”
“That’s it. There is no more. We were watching TV. I heard him snore, looked over at him, and he was changing. Blowing up like a tick.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she sniffed between words. Phil pounded the walls harder, and the sheetrock cracked, letting loose a cloud of dust.
Marie shot him a glare, and he stopped pounding. He tore at the remnants of his shirt instead.
Marie continued. “When I got the gun, he went ballistic. I ain’t gonna let them kill my Phil.” Desperation filled the woman’s eyes, fear and pain cutting across her face.
“Did you take anything?”
“No, I don’t do that shit. It can kill you.”
“Seems like it’s done more than that. You heard him snoring? Like he was asleep?” Don asked.
“Yes.”
“And he was fine prior? Nothing else you can think of? Any other drugs?”
Her eyes shifted to the floor again, then she said, “Not that I know of.”
Phil growled and moved towards them.
“Stop that! This man is trying to help,” Marie said. Phil understood her because he stopped and focused his red eyes on Don. “You look terrible!” she said. “Go sit on the sofa.”
The thing did as it was told.
Don was running out of options. In five minutes, the SWAT team would join them, and Phil Redro would be riddled with bullets. So the time for sugarcoating had passed.
“I have to take him in, Marie.”
The thing that had once been Phil Redro clawed at the walls and moaned.
“Nope. That wasn’t our deal.” She swung the gun in Don’s direction again. The weight of it pulled her arm down, and she almost dropped the weapon, only pulling it level at the last instant.
“You fire that thing and I won’t be able to hold them back. Then it’s over for him.” The tip of the gun barrel dipped slightly. “We can knock him out with a tranquilizer and bring him to the hospital.” Don sold bullshit for a living. It was one of the unpleasant tasks that came with giving people bad news. He saw no way Phil would live unless he figured out what had caused his transformation and there was an antidote to bring him back. Both would take time, and might not be possible. Don’s five-man support team waited outside with a portable quarantine unit and by sun up, Phil would most likely be on ice, his ride over for good.