A World Reborn: The First Outbreak

by Chris Thompson

  Retreating to the closest room, its door open after being ransacked by the Reborn, Melissa tossed the bat towards the window and approached the bed. Quickly, she gathered the sheets and measured them out. Realizing she’d need more, she plundered the next couple of rooms for their bed linen too. Back at the broken window, Melissa set to work fashioning a rope out of the sheets as fast as she could, then secured one end of it to a door handle nearby. She wasn’t the heaviest woman in the world, so she hoped this would be enough to keep the make-do rope secure. After a final tug on the knots to make sure they were fixed firmly, she threw the free end out of the window where, as it fell, it began to gently flutter in the breeze. Somehow, she managed to convince herself it would be fine once her weight was on it. She then covered the windowsill with a thick wad of cotton sheets, ensuring her safety from any remaining pieces of broken glass. With the gun secured and the radio clipped tightly, Melissa took one deep breath before grabbing the windowsill and lifting herself onto it. She immediately felt a little of her former apprehension return so, after snatching hold of the rope, she gingerly tested it before letting it take her full weight. Then, feeling as positive about the venture as she could, she began to climb down. It wasn’t a long journey, only one floor, but with her arms already aching from smashing through the window, it felt infinitely longer. Once down, Melissa took a couple of seconds to rest before taking a look at the broken body of the man she’d shot earlier in the night.

  He hadn’t been completely obliterated by the fall as he was still recognizably human. However, his limbs were broken and distended in ways they shouldn’t have been, and he lay in a pool of blood from lacerations caused by the bones puncturing his skin. His head seemed less damaged, so Melissa hoped this meant his collar was unbroken. She walked over to him and glanced around but couldn’t see his assault rifle, so she simply assumed in his flailing as he fell he’d inadvertently thrown it far enough to go over the edge of the building. Kneeling down beside him, she began patting his pockets looking for ammunition. Finding some clips that matched the ones for the pistol in her belt, she quickly stashed them away in the pockets of her jacket. She felt around for anything else of use and found a knife that had been sheathed in the top of his body armour, which she took, sheath and all, and clipped to her belt. Next, she tried to see if there was anything resembling a collar attached to his neck. She could see a red light glowing under his chin, and the shape of a square-ish object, but some of it was tucked under the armoured vest he was wearing. Although there was definitely something there, which could possibly be the collar, she couldn’t see it clearly, so she reached towards his head to move it so she could get a better look – when he suddenly stirred. Melissa gasped and fell onto her rear, looking in horror as the man tried to move.

  “You shouldn’t have survived that fall.” Melissa told him, as though the man needed to hear it. “You’re dead. You have to be. With those injuries you just have to be dead.” She informed him, but now her voice held a puzzled tone. The man growled in response, the sound of which appeared to trigger the muscles of his hand to flex as if he was trying to reach for her, but with no bones unbroken, he was unable to make any movement in her direction.

  Melissa got to her knees and moved a little closer to him.

  “Why aren’t you dead?” She questioned. As he wasn’t going to answer, and couldn’t do anything to stop her examining him, she undid the zip on his body armour and opened it. His chest was a bloody mess, but there seemed to be two things under his shirt, one around his chest and one around his neck. Not wanting to touch his blood if possible, Melissa used the knife to cut open his shirt and reveal his chest. There was some kind of apparatus bound to him. A small vial of something connected to a box by little pads, like those used for an ECG. It had been placed roughly where his heart was. The vial was attached directly to a needle, which had punctured his skin.

  “Is this a heart rate monitor?” She asked pensively, but the shattered remains of the man simply moaned in a gurgling, disgusting manner.

  Melissa considered what she was seeing. She remembered what Roy said about them injecting something into themselves which triggered the change, transforming them into the infected. Could these soldiers have some kind of heart rate monitor which injected the same substance into them when they died, to turn them into one of the infected? And if this was the case, and this man was dead when he was changed, did that mean the others who had been infected with whatever it was, were also dead? It made a crazy kind of sense, which made Melissa even more confused. Some of the infected she’d seen were missing chunks of their necks, a wound that people didn’t usually survive without immediate medical attention, and then it was still touch and go. Could these infected, these people, really be the reanimated dead? Had the notion of zombies she’d tried to dismiss earlier actually been the correct line of thought? It also tracked with what she knew about killing them, by destroying the brain. Without a brain, nobody could do anything. However, if the infection allowed a certain amount of autonomy to be retained after a bizarre form of reanimation, then this would allow the infected to operate with basic impulses: to move, hunt, and dare she say it, eat, thus spreading the infection. So, the half crazy thought she’d had about these creatures being zombies was looking a lot more accurate than she could’ve imagined.

  “This is crazy.” Melissa said to the dead man in front of her. He didn’t disagree.

  Melissa experimented by moving her hand closer to where his mouth would be beneath the balaclava and heard a biting sound and saw the rough movements of someone with a broken jaw trying to bite it. His eyes, pale, cloudy and dead looking, were focused on her extended hand and she knew that if he had been able to, he would have taken a chunk out of her. Melissa decided to focus on what she was looking for. Using the tip of the knife to move his head, she was able to see what she was after: the device around his neck, what she assumed the Reborn were calling the collar. It was plain, metal, and definitely square-ish. There was a red LED light roughly under the chin beside a smooth line down the centre, indicating a separation, and a kind of very fine mesh around the edges of the left and right sides. Melissa took it in her hands and wondered how to get it off as it was too small to lift off the soldier’s head; in the end, she tried prying it apart. It was difficult, as it appeared stuck, but eventually it broke into two halves. Melissa feared she’d broken it at first, but upon inspection, she realized there were clear connectors that allowed it to be separated in this manner. She noticed the red light had gone off, and thought this meant it deactivated when it wasn’t connected. Presumably, this meant it had some kind of battery that only worked when the two parts were united. She moved it away from the still active remains of the soldier and wiped his blood off the device onto her jacket, and then wiped off the blood that had smeared on her hands too. Melissa checked it would fit around her neck, but didn’t put it on yet. Instead, she clipped it together and hung it around her left wrist. The light came back, but it was green this time, indicating it was working again, at least, it seemed likely it was. It made Melissa suspect the red light meant it was connected but not working. Did that mean, as it appeared to be undamaged, it only worked when around the neck of an uninfected? That would certainly make sense. Her mental debate prompted Melissa to test her theory, so she carefully extended her right hand towards the mouth of the dead soldier and, as she hoped, there was no reaction. No biting sounds, no movements, he didn’t even seem to be looking at it. Her supposition was apparently correct, so Melissa disconnected the collar and pocketed it. She decided then that she wanted to get a look at the street below to see if any police had shown up yet. There was a lot of noise, including the sound of another approaching helicopter, but she’d been burnt before thinking it was the police, so she resolved to take a good look at what was going on at the hotel entrance and then climb back into the hotel quickly before the helicopter arrived.

  Melissa stood up and walked over to the edge of the rooftop, standi
ng with her hands on a waist high concrete banister that was designed to prevent people from accidentally falling. Before she looked down, she scanned the Las Vegas horizon, momentarily awestruck that despite the inhuman, unholy violence taking place within the hotel and casino, it still looked relatively peaceful and normal out there; the dark sky clashing with the bright illuminations of the city beneath it. The sight was beautiful. And then Melissa looked down, and saw a mass of scrambling people, flashing lights and a rush to erect a makeshift barricade. Closer inspection revealed it to be the police. Large black vans were parked off to one side, plus an even larger one further back, which was presumably their command centre, while special weapons teams were preparing in case they were needed to breach the building. Uniformed officers stood a distance away, placating a crowd of reporters who where firing questions at them and, Melissa assumed, demanding answers. They got here fast, Melissa thought, feeling a vague sense of pride at the speed with which her fellow journalists had responded to the broadcast from within the hotel. She knew what questions she’d be asking:

  “Was the video real? Who released it and how were they able to broadcast it so widely? Have the police been able to make contact with anyone within the hotel?” Although she wouldn’t have been asking, she would’ve been yelling, with a camera operator over her shoulder recording the grim faces of the police maintaining the perimeter.

  Melissa looked down towards the entrance of the hotel and saw a heavy steel barrier had been dropped over the entrance; presumably the security gate Roy had mentioned earlier. Briefly, Melissa considered trying to attract attention to see if they would send a helicopter to rescue her. She could try, but then, Roy would die. The people in the theatre would also die. There was no way the police could breach and secure the hotel before the Reborn soldiers executed everyone. Moreover, could the police even make a successful breach with thousands of the infected standing in their way? The noise: the lights and the movement would rile the infected up. The suppression effect of the collars wouldn’t be holding them as the Reborn soldiers would have retreated, probably to the roof to be airlifted out, and then the infected would tear into the police, and then... well, there’d be a lot more infected. No, it seemed to Melissa in that moment that the best chance for everyone was for her to be as stealthy as possible, use the collar to bypass the infected and avoid the Reborn if at all possible.

  With a sigh, Melissa returned the way she had come and awkwardly climbed back up and into the hotel, moments before a police helicopter flew overhead and shone a bright light onto the body there. Melissa left the sheet rope where it was, thinking if they noticed it then perhaps the police could use it to gain entry into the hotel in a covert manner. Still, it wouldn’t matter all that much where they gained entry. All the hostages were on the ground floor, and there were thousands of the infected in the way. No, as had happened once before for Melissa, she was the only one who could do something positive at this present moment in time. She retrieved her bat, and then with the collar and the ammunition secured, Melissa returned to the staircase and began her descent back to the second floor.

  Roy and Donna moved back and looked objectively at the barricade they’d erected in front of the door from a pair of filing cabinets, two desks and a couple of chairs. The computers that once occupied the two desks were on the floor, while Donna’s workstation had remained in situ as they were hoping she could continue working until the last second.

  “How’s that look, Donna?” Roy wanted to know.

  “Like a piece of junk, Roy.” Donna replied. The pair looked at each other seriously, and then broke into nervous laughter. The laughter died a moment later and the two were left just looking at each other.

  “Roy—”

  “Don’t.” Roy intervened, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s just—”

  “I know. I’ve always known. I was a cop, remember?” He asked lightly.

  “So it couldn’t work?”

  “I’m married, Donna, and I love my wife.”

  “Yeah.” Donna returned, biting her lip. “I know.”

  It was becoming awkward, and Roy didn’t want it to be that way, so he stepped back and cleared his throat.

  “So, any luck getting further into the system?”

  Donna nodded and returned to her desk, sitting down after one final look at the barricade they’d erected in the hope of prolonging their lives.

  “Some. The more I try, the more I run the risk of being detected by the malware’s defences and locked out of the system. If that happens, then I have to start over.”

  “Well, shit.” Roy exclaimed softly. The phone suddenly rang on Donna’s desk; it was and shrill, surprising and startled them both. Roy knew what this meant. Pretty soon he’d not be useful to the people who had taken over the hotel, if Melissa’s suspicions were correct.

  “You going to answer it, Chief?” Donna questioned as it rang again.

  “Yeah.” Roy returned wearily, and then picked up the phone. “Hello?” He initiated.

  “Who am I speaking to?” A male voice demanded.

  “I’m Security Chief Roy Snipes, formerly with the Las Vegas P.D. Who are you?”

  “Lieutenant Michael Esperico. We don’t know if you’re aware—” Esperico started but Roy cut him off.

  “We’re very aware, Lieutenant. There’s an incredible, unbelievable situation going on in here and we need all the help we can get. We’re certain the people responsible are listening on this phone line right now, as the phones weren’t working until after that broadcast.”

  “Okay, Snipes, give me everything you’ve got.”

  Roy carefully relayed everything he knew, from the hostages and the infected, to their armaments and intentions. He was precise but omitted any mention of Melissa.

  “If you breach, the best advice I can give is for you to aim for the head. The infected can’t be reasoned with and they can’t be wounded. A head shot seems to be a kill, and as far as we know, it’s the only way to stop them.”

  “I can’t sanction the execution of sick people, you know that Snipes. We need to get the CDC down here to set up some kind of quarantine. The FBI are already on their way, so any action is going to be run through them. Where are you getting your information?”

  “We’ve got limited access to the surveillance feeds, and some of my men relayed it before I lost contact with them.” Roy lied. Donna shot him a look, but he shook his head.

  “Snipes, we’ll get back to you.” Esperico stated, and then the line went dead. Roy suspected they were now going to confirm he was exactly who he said he was, and probably attempt to acquire some blueprints, so they were better informed about the layout of the hotel before they moved forward. Roy knew that although there was imminent danger of further loss of life - Melissa, Donna and himself as well as the hostages - they would have to at least try to negotiate their release, and when that failed, as he felt it surely would, they still couldn’t breach if there was a biological containment issue. The Reborn would have enough time to do whatever they’d planned to do in the hotel. Perhaps hit the vault, even though this seemed like a hell of a way to steal money.

  Roy put the phone down and sighed heavily.

  “That was very good, Mister Snipes. Very good indeed. I wonder, however, why you didn’t mention Melissa?” A woman’s voice came across the radio. She had an accent just like Melissa’s and for a half second, Roy had thought it was her. But then Roy’s heart sank. It seemed they’d been listening in on him and Melissa for who knew how long.

  “Damn.” He groaned to himself.

  “Do pick up the radio, Mister Snipes. We’ve some things to discuss.”

  Roy hesitated, and then reached down and picked up the radio from Donna’s desk.

  “Identify yourself.” Roy said into the radio.

  “I’m the Ancillary.”

  “Don’t you have a name?” Roy quizzed.

  “Names have power, Mister Snipes, and with the wor
k that needs to be carried out, the Teacher has insisted we only to give them when absolutely necessary.”

  “In other words, you don’t want to broadcast it over the airwaves in case the cops are listening and it leads back to your buddies.”

  “That’s one way to look at it. Is Melissa on the line with us?”

  There was no answer.

  “I suppose she’s turned off the radio again. She’s a wily one. The Teacher will be very impressed with her; very impressed indeed. She and I will have to have a long chat. But right now, Mister Snipes, there’s the question of what to do with you. We see you’ve built a... well, I guess we should call it a barricade. Although it won’t stop us if we choose to come in of course.” The Ancillary warned.

  Roy took a look around and saw the camera in the corner had its little red ‘on’ light illuminated. They were watching right now.

  “What do you want?” Roy demanded.

  “Nothing, right now. We want you staying right where you are, because I’m sure sooner or later Melissa will be along, once she’s got her hands on a collar, and then we’ll grab her. Just remember, Mister Snipes, if the time should come for you to make a choice between helping us or hindering us, you must think of it as a choice between life and death.” The Ancillary threatened, and then the radio went silent. Roy tossed it onto Donna’s desk and then went over to the camera, where he reached up and yanked the power lead out from the back, disabling it. He sighed heavily. If they’d been listening in then they knew her entire plan; how she was planning to enter the casino, and how she was planning on trying to reach him and Donna. He hoped against hope that Melissa had turned the radio back on at some point, because then he could warn her that they were listening in and to abort her plan. He wasn’t completely certain it would matter even if she had. They would find her anyway, even if she didn’t come to try and rescue him and Donna.