A World Reborn: The First Outbreak

by Chris Thompson

  “Melissa?” Roy demanded desperately.

  Silence answered him.

  “Melissa?” Roy roared into the radio, but a ghostly silence was his only response. Roy held the radio expectant and hopeful. He remained like that for a few moments longer, unable to comprehend that he’d just heard the woman who was risking her life to try and save them all, die.

  Chapter Seven

  Roy allowed the hand holding the radio to slowly fall to his side, while staring blankly at the barricade in front of the door. He knew she’d made her own choice and knew he’d told her to go and hide somewhere until the police breached the casino. He also knew, in a clinical sense, it wasn’t his fault, but guilt over Melissa’s death ate at his heart and soul, and a buried but not forgotten memory of why he’d retired returned to the forefront of his mind. He hadn’t just retired because his wife had nagged him into it, as he told everyone. And now, prompted by Melissa’s death, he thought of his old partner and the night he had gone around the back of a convenience store that was being robbed. It wasn’t exactly standard procedure, but the plan was tactically sound. Roy would push the armed assailant into retreating out of the back door and Martin, Roy’s partner, would take him down. They’d done it before, they knew it worked. But something went wrong and Martin caught a sawn-off shotgun blast to the face. They found the thief about a week later, dead from an overdose of heroin he’d probably bought with the cash he’d stolen. Roy had been cleared of any misconduct and they’d told him to take some time off to get his head back in the game, but the truth was Roy couldn’t shake off a feeling of responsibility for Martin’s death. They’d decided who was going around the back with rock, paper, scissors and Roy had won, electing to go in the front. Roy had made the choice. Roy had caused his death. He couldn’t escape that thought. A couple of years had passed since he’d retired and he was beginning to learn to forgive himself. But now, not only were almost all of his security team dead, he’d involved a young woman, and now she too was dead.

  Roy thought about this, staring at the barricade, trying to picture Melissa’s last, horrific moments, when he realized that Donna was talking to him.

  “What?” Roy asked, turning his head to look in her direction.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Donna tried to reassure him, but Roy had heard it all before.

  “Have you gotten into the door lock system yet, Donna?” He demanded curtly, dismissing her sympathetic gesture, as he badly needed to concentrate on the job in hand. There would be time for self-recrimination later, in private.

  “A few more minutes and I think I’ll be able to add your access card back on the accepted list before I get shut out of the system.”

  “Will you be able to get back into the system after getting shut out?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, even if I could, it’ll take just as long if not longer to get back to this point. But the good news is that your card should work anywhere an access card is required.”

  “Finish it, so I can get this door open.”

  “What are we going to do then, Roy?”

  Roy shot her a look and then shook his head.

  “We’re not doing anything. I’m going out there and I’m going to finish what Melissa started.”

  “Roy!” Donna started a horrified expression on her face.

  “Damn it, Donna, just do what I’ve told you to do!” He barked. Donna fell silent and stared at him for a moment. She considered defying his order, but there was a strange intensity in his dark eyes that scared her a little. Donna returned to typing on the keyboard. Roy put the radio down on the desk, just as the phone rang. Roy picked it up immediately.

  “Yes?” Roy questioned.

  “Snipes, it’s Esperico. We’ve verified who you are and I want to inform you what’s going on.”

  “Well, before you lay out too many plans, remember they’re listening in.”

  “I understand that, and I’m directing this to them too. We’ve got the building surrounded. There’s no way out. We have a team from the Centre for Disease Control en route, so your biological agent will not be allowed to spread outside this building. You have fifteen minutes to surrender yourselves or we’ll be forced to take action.” Esperico declared. It sounded practiced and rehearsed and Roy felt certain they had had a negotiator of some kind writing the speech. Roy doubted it would be effective, but before he could offer any rebuttal, an English woman’s voice came on the line. For a half a second Roy thought it was Melissa. The realisation that it wasn’t hurt him like a shot to the gut.

  “Mister Esperico, I am the Ancillary and I represent the Teacher of the Reborn in this matter. We have infected several thousand people with a biological agent, as you call it, which will render them uncooperative to your demands. If you breach, you will be forced to fight your way through them, and you’ll be forced to kill them. Do you really want the morning news reporting that the Las Vegas police were involved in a massacre at the Seraphim Hotel and Casino? I think not. Furthermore, we have dozens of uninfected hostages. Any attempt to breach and we will execute them, one every second until we hear you are retreating. No matter what way you try it, Mister Esperico, there will be blood on your hands. Are you ready for that?”

  “The blood won’t be on my hands, ma’am, it’ll join the blood already on yours.” Esperico shot back.

  “That’s a matter of perspective, Mister Esperico. We’re building a new world, and to do that we are first required to tear down the old one. But, semantics aside, the fact remains that your superiors will never authorise an action against a building with this many hostages or with people infected with an unknown pathogen without even an attempt at a dialogue with us.”

  “We don’t negotiate.”

  “Of course you don’t. And you won’t need to. Stay where you are for a little while longer and the situation will resolve itself.” The Ancillary assured him.

  “Yeah, and how will that happen?” Esperico asked.

  The phone went silent for a few moments and Roy wondered whether either of them was still on the line.

  “I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you, Mister Esperico. We’ll be in touch.” The Ancillary answered, and then clicked the line off. The phone was dead and Roy wondered exactly what would happen next.

  “What’s happening, Roy?” Donna wanted to know.

  “Nothing good. Can I get that door open now?”

  Roy began un-barricading the door, undoing all the work they’d done earlier. He managed to move enough of it so that he’d be able to slip out once Donna had added his access card to the approved list, and he could use it to open the door again. Once he’d finished, he stood to one side, ready to move as soon as Donna gave the go ahead. When she looked at him, he knew she was ready because there was a deep sadness in her eyes. He guessed she feared when he went out of the door she’d never see him again.

  “Do it, Donna.” Roy growled, and then softened a little upon seeing the wounded look on her face. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

  “I don’t believe that.” Donna responded with a catch in her voice.

  “I can’t help that. But, I’m your superior and I’m ordering you to help me to open the door.”

  Donna nodded and tapped at the keys for a few silent minutes. When she looked at Roy she nodded again, prompting Roy to swipe his card through the protruding panel beside the door. He was relieved when he heard an audible beep, followed by the light on the side turning green. The door made a mechanical sound as the mechanism unlocked itself and Roy seized the handle and opened it quickly just in case it locked again. With one final, appreciative look towards Donna, Roy stepped out into the corridor which would lead him to the elevator that would take him up to the ground floor... and was shocked by who he saw.

  “Jim? I thought you were dead!” Roy exclaimed.

  Melissa saw nothing, but felt quite a lot of pain in her head, specifically behind her eyes, and there was still a ringing sound in her ears. She opened her ey
es slowly, and saw a light distortion at the edge of her vision. She was still in the lounge, and it appeared she was sitting on one of the wooden chairs from the kitchenette area. Melissa’s memory was a little fuzzy, but she remembered them blowing open the door with some kind of explosive, and recalled firing blindly through the doorway. They must have used some kind of stun grenade, because she remembered a loud bang, a blinding flash and then there was nothing. Perhaps they’d rushed her, knocking her off her feet and out cold. She wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been unconscious but now that she was more alert she was aware of the pain in her leg, but strangely, it wasn’t quite as bad as she remembered. Melissa carefully raised it and stretched it out, and saw that someone had cut the leg off her jeans and bandaged the wound. She gently lowered it and tried to focus more on the room, looking around the distortion in her vision. There was a soldier with an assault rifle staring impassively at her. His weapon wasn’t held at the ready; instead he just seemed to be regarding her with a strange kind of reverence. There was another Reborn soldier by the doorway. This one had a tablet computer and Melissa wondered if this was the same one from earlier, the one called Sebastian, or if there was more than one tech operator in their ranks.

  She tried to move her hands and found they were bound together. She jiggled them a little, felt hard plastic digging into her wrists, and rightly assumed she was secured by some kind of tie tag. Melissa tried to stand, but heard a menacing voice order her to stop. She did so, but her experiment had worked as she had only wanted to know if she was fastened to the chair in any way. It seemed she wasn’t. It had been a rushed method of restraining her and Melissa knew she was flexible enough to get her hands under her body and legs and get them back in front of her; at least she could if she had the opportunity. Melissa blinked hard, trying to get the distortion to leave her vision. A few minutes passed and then, in the fragmented ruins of the doorway, the Ancillary appeared.

  “My, my, Melissa Jones, you’ve been quite busy. I must say, I’m impressed you made it through the infected quite so easily, with a damaged collar no less. A shame about your bite, but I expect with the drinking causing a downward spiral, your keen warrior’s edge has dulled a little since your time in Africa. Overall, however, you were able to follow the route we hoped you would take quite well, even if you did have a little help finding it.”

  Melissa narrowed her eyes, partially to try to see the other woman better and partly to express her distaste at the way this person spoke to her.

  “You’re speaking to me as if you know me, but I’ve never met you before.” Melissa commented.

  “Well, I feel as though I know you. The Teacher and I followed your story very closely. He felt, as did I, that you were the perfect person to tell the story of this world’s transformation; especially as you’ve been through quite a transformation yourself. A meek, polite journalist known for light-hearted stories thrust into Africa and embroiled in a massive gunfight. It must’ve felt like your big break.”

  “Must have.” Melissa replied. This woman knew a lot about her, but Melissa didn’t want to confirm or deny what she said, hoping she might learn more by being noncommittal. At the time though, Melissa privately recalled, she really had felt as though it was her chance to become known as a serious reporter. Afterwards, she had felt as if it was her undoing. The Ancillary pulled up a chair and sat opposite Melissa, smiling. The beauty of the Ancillary was completely beguiling; how someone as perfect as her could be responsible for so much death Melissa couldn’t fathom.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “I’m your captive audience.” Melissa replied dryly. The Ancillary chuckled politely.

  “Did you ever get over the loss of Sanaa?” The Ancillary asked, her face becoming solemn and concerned. She leaned forward, as though totally fascinated, as she waited for Melissa’s response. Melissa hurt deep inside at the mention of Sanaa’s name, but resolutely refused to let it show. However, she had been unable to disguise the involuntary flicker of surprise in her eyes upon hearing Sanaa’s name.

  “She is... was, someone very special to me.”

  “That’s not an answer, darling.”

  “It’s the only one you’re getting.” Melissa returned sharply.

  “Fair enough, I suppose. But if I may pry, why did you never try to find out if she was involved or not?”

  “I did.” Melissa lied defensively, her mind reeling at the probing questions the Ancillary was asking her.

  “Come now, we both know that isn’t true. The Teacher has a great many contacts throughout the world, and one of them was in Africa, one town over from where the mine was in operation. We know you didn’t, and might I add, we also know the extent of her involvement. Wouldn’t you like to know for certain? I could tell you right now.”

  Melissa felt a coldness creeping over her. She looked at the clear, bright eyes of the Ancillary and looked for malice, contempt or the evil required to feed the people in the Money Pit to the infected, but she saw none of these. The Ancillary was looking at her as if she was a life-long friend and Melissa felt more unsettled than she would have had she been about to be tortured. She swallowed hard before answering.

  “I know the truth.” Melissa shot back. “I know she wasn’t involved, and nothing you can say can convince me she was anything but an innocent.” Melissa responded, choosing to trust her instincts about her friend rather than believe what the Ancillary was implying. “Besides I’m the only one left alive, at least I thought I was, who saw what happened. My boss was happy to have me hailed as a hero who saved lives despite tragic losses. Everyone won.” Melissa considered smoothly.

  “Except you.”

  “I didn’t deserve to win.”

  “There really wasn’t any more you could have done, you know.” The Ancillary reassured her. “You did more than any other civilian did at the time.”

  “People died.”

  “People always die. The Teacher has shown us that this is how this world grows and changes. Do you think he really wants to tear this world down in the way he has chosen? No. But he wants a better world, and a better world has a price which must be paid.” The Ancillary explained, clearly but gently.

  “And what the hell is the method he’s chosen? A virus that turns ordinary people into cannibals or, if they’re immune, victims for your infected freaks?”

  “It’s more than that.” The Ancillary said with a smile that made her whole face glow with undisguised pride. “It’s so much more.” She concluded as she sat back. Melissa looked her over, the distortion in her eyes now much clearer, and then leant she forward.

  “So, what is it?” Melissa questioned, curiosity momentarily overtaking her.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed some of the infected have wounds no one could survive?”

  “Yeah.” Melissa replied with a shrug, hoping her lack of enthusiasm would draw out more information than she might otherwise divulge.

  “This virus the Teacher has created, the pathogen, the... whatever you wish to term it, is a highly specialised virus that is infectious to about ninety five percent of people. It kills the host but reanimates him or her with a specific rewiring of the brain function. The infected rely on sound and scent for hunting and sight for basic navigation, meaning if they’re blinded for any reason they can still seek out prey. They diligently search for anyone who isn’t infected and try to infect them with the virus via a bite. If the person is immune to the virus, then they consume them, fuelling their bodies and retarding the decomposition and disintegration process. And as you’re probably aware, you’re immune to the effects of the virus. We designed it that way, if you’d like to say thank you. With a little bit of your DNA from a bandage in Africa, we were able to secure your immunity.”

  “That’s insane!” Melissa exclaimed out of hand, even though what the Ancillary said confirmed what Melissa had seen with her own eyes. The Ancillary smiled at her before offering a rebuttal.

  “No, it’s the
right way to rebuild the world. When we unleash the contagion worldwide, we can sit back and let the world tear itself apart. The infrastructure will remain largely intact, and then we can clean up.”

  “How?”

  “The collars emit a pheromone which represses the instincts of the infected, making them docile and manageable. When the time comes to clean up, we’ll be able to control them quite easily; herd them up, and then, ultimately, dispose of them. It’s not perfect, of course. Loud noises still enrage the infected which can counteract the effect of the collar, but that’s more by design than by accident.” The Ancillary explained, almost cheerfully. Then she leaned in and smiled broadly. “And on a personal level, I find it pleasurably ironic that this world, full of greed and corruption and dominated by those who’ll tear each other down for even a penny more profit, will literally rip itself apart to usher in a new world free of their oppression.”

  Melissa thought about what she had said. It was clear she wasn’t crazy, at least in a way that people might normally think. No, she firmly believed in her cause. She believed it was justified, and in a way, that made her even more frightening and dangerous than someone who was afflicted with a mental illness.

  “So, what is this? A test? A way to spread your message?” Melissa quizzed.

  “All of the above, amongst other things.” The Ancillary responded, lacing her fingers together on her lap.

  “So why are you telling me all this? Isn’t it the classic movie villain mistake to explain your plan?” Melissa asked, her dry humour making the Ancillary laugh again.

  “Well, the most important reason is because the Teacher has his eye on you. He told us that when the time to reveal ourselves to the world came, he felt you were going to have a significant role to play.”

  “Why?”

  “The Teacher keeps most of his reasons to himself, but one thing I can share with you is that he said you represented the kind of people we would want in the new world: strong, adaptable and compassionate. You did what you did in Africa to protect, out of care and love for some special people. You are to be, in his words, the Witness. You’ll see all of our works, great and terrible in their scale, and tell the world what we stand for. And when our work is done, you’ll have a place among us, you and the other immune survivors who demonstrate their worth, to tell the new generations of the world what came before and how we lifted it out of its downward spiral by sowing the seeds of a new world.”