by Michael Bray
“What kind of information?” Joshua said, spinning to face Genero.
“I…I don’t know. This is why I have come to you.”
“Where is he?”
“We believe he is on an expedition in Mexico, Somewhere in the Yucatan Jungle.”
Joshua considered the situation. Although it was unlikely anything could derail his plans, he wasn’t prepared to take the risk. “Send a team out there. Find him. Eliminate him.”
“Nobody knows where he is. It could be difficult in light of recent events.”
“That is not my concern. Find him.”
“Yes, Joshua. It will be done.” Genaro made his leave, hurrying down the hall, sidestepping the corpses which still littered the building.
Joshua walked back to the Oval Office, his feet sinking into the plush carpet as he crossed the room to the large window overlooking the White House grounds. It was a scene of utter chaos. Police and army vehicles were abandoned, doors ajar, lights flashing in silent rotations. Bodies lay where they had fallen, or at least, those which hadn't come back to life after being bitten or scratched by the infected. From his vantage point, he could see at least five of those who had come back, all shambling around the lawn in the search for a host. Beyond the low black fences, the city was awash with smoke which billowed into the air from at least a dozen locations. He pushed the window open, and breathed in the smoky air, instantly transported back to the winter he spent in England when he was twelve with his aunt and uncle as they celebrated Guy Fawkes Night. Every fifth of November, the United Kingdom would celebrate the foiled attempt by Fawkes to blow up the Houses of Parliament in London by lighting fires in their gardens and letting off fireworks long into the night. The air then was cold and fresh, tinged with the smoke of thousands of fires. This was similar enough to make him smile. Unlike Fawkes, his plan had not been foiled. It had gone perfectly, and now, rather than the citizens of the world lighting fires in recognition of failure, the world was burning along with those who clung on to their old lives in desperate hopelessness. The human spirit was a strange thing, Joshua thought as he watched one of the shambling things, his black suit shredded where he had lost an arm, white shirt soaked red due to the blood it had spilled. He half fell, half climbed over the low fence surrounding the property and set out in search of a victim, one of the many who were cowering in homes and hoping that if they stayed inside and didn’t get involved, it would pass them by and they could return to their normal lives. How wrong they were. They had no concept of the drive, the determination which was fuelled by the thing that had bonded with him to eliminate the threat of the inferior species. And a threat they were, for as much as Joshua's initial victory had come easy, he knew there was much still to do, and there was nothing more dangerous than the human spirit when all seemed lost and options were limited to fight or flight. Many would choose the latter. They would curl up and die, accept their fate and do so with dignity. Others would fight, and with nothing to lose be dangerous foes. People like Richard Draven.
Something rolled in Joshua's stomach, a feeling he had forgotten.
Fear.
Fear of that particular breed of humanity who didn’t know when the fight was lost, who didn’t know they had no chance to survive, and who didn’t believe in giving up until death was upon them. Those were the dangerous ones now. Not the organised governments, nor the armies of police forces. It was the pockets of people - survivors who knew they were fighting for the existence of their species. Although he would never admit it, Joshua was afraid of those people. Because they alone were the only ones who could stop him, and as unlikely as it was, there were always groups who just refused to accept defeat. There were always those who believed there was a chance.
CHAPTER NINE
Draven, Kate & Herman
Arlington Cemetery
Virginia, USA
The closer they got to the Pentagon, the more the tension increased between them. Kate led the way, trying not to ignore the intense stare of Draven, who was glaring at the back of her head. Herman had tried without success to lift the ugly atmosphere by attempting to make conversation with them and had quickly given up. He had instead reverted to staring at the ground as he walked behind, hands thrust in pockets. They had come out of the small scrub of trees and were walking through the Arlington National Cemetery, the landscape of white tombstones stretching into the distance. It was quiet, the steady chatter of birds the only sound as they neared South Washington Boulevard.
"Not long to go now," Herman said, a strained grin stretching over his lips as he looked from Draven to Kate.
"You left those people to die," Draven snapped, speaking to Kate rather than replying to Herman.
"I told you to drop it."
"How can you be so cold about it. Will you say the same about my family when we get to the Pentagon?"
"I’m doing my job. You need to think of the bigger picture."
"That doesn’t help the people we left behind."
Kate stopped and spun towards him, eyes alive with fire. "What did you want me to do? Drag them along with us to have them turned away at the Pentagon gates? Do you think that would help them, to give them false hope then snatch it away? This is a goddamn global crisis and you're skulking around over a few strangers. You need to get a grip. I made you a promise to try and make contact with your family when we get there. At no point did I suggest we could pick up every damn stranger we encounter along the way."
"Those were people. Civilians, the ones we're supposed to be trying to help. They’re not some problem for you to sweep under the carpet."
"The best help we can be to everyone is to figure out how to fix this. Like it or not, this is all on you now. You’re the best hope we have"
He glared at her, trying to figure out which insult to launch for best effect. She met his gaze, eyes unwavering.
“You got something to say? If so, spit it out.”
"How can you be so uncaring?" Draven asked, genuinely dismayed.
"I'm sorry if that’s how I come across. Believe me, that’s not how it is. I'm just doing the best job I can under the circumstances, and that means following orders.”
“Following orders? Someone told you to leave that family alone back there?”
“Don’t be so damn smart. You know what I’m talking about. For the record, my orders were to bring you to the Pentagon so my superiors could review our next move, so that's what I intend to do. You might not like it, but that’s the way it is. You do whatever you have to in order to deal with that, as long as you stop giving me a hard time about it."
"Hey, uh, I hate to break up the party over there," Herman said, "but I think getting inside the Pentagon might be harder than you think."
They followed Herman’s gaze and saw that he could well have a point. Ahead of them, the serenity of the cemetery gave way to a glittering snake of stationary vehicles. South Washington Boulevard was at a standstill, abandoned vehicles stretching in both directions for as far as the trio could see. To their right, a quarter of a mile away stood their destination. Unfortunately, in their fear and uncertainty, the public descended upon the building and gathered outside in a frightened mob in their search for answers and reassurance.
"Shit," Kate said, grabbing her phone. "I'll call ahead, tell them we're coming in."
They snaked through the endless line of vehicles, sidestepping people, trying to fight through the crowds to the front.
"I still have no reception," Kate said, staring at her phone in disgust. Draven saw a flicker of uncertainty and caught another glimpse of the real Kate, the one hiding behind the hard exterior shell. He saw someone vulnerable, someone scared who wasn’t as confident in her abilities as her demeanour suggested.
"Cell networks must definitely be down," Herman said. "Maybe your people have shut them off to stop the public from sharing info on what's happening."
"Don’t be ridiculous," Kate fired back. "Have you any idea of the chaos shutting down telec
ommunications would cause? It would cripple everyone, governments included."
"You don’t need to tell me," Herman replied. "I know a guy who said radio waves could be changed to give people brain cancer, that your governments know how to do it and use it to assassinate spies. It’s been regular practice since the fifties by all accounts. You have to be careful these days. D.T.A man, don’t trust anybody."
Kate ignored him and led them further into the crowd. Draven hated confined spaces and felt a moment of panic as he pushed deeper into the sweaty mass of people. He looked over his shoulder beyond Herman and felt his stomach somersault as the crowd closed up into the space where they had just occupied. It was easier to get a sense of the level of panic from the middle of the crowd. The fear and desperation were a palpable thing as people shoved and jockeyed for position, most of them unsure what help if any, the government could give them. Some begged and pleaded for help, others were aggressive, demanding answers when there were none to give.
At the front of the crowd, a barricade had been set up behind which stony-faced soldiers stood, fingers poised over trigger guards should anyone overstep their mark. The noise was deafening as those in the crowd tried to make themselves heard. Kate bullied her way to the front and showed her identification to the hulking soldier at the front.
"Kate Goodall, I need to see Bill Watson," she shouted above the noise.
"Step back ma'am. I can’t let anyone in, I.D or no I.D. We’re on lockdown.”
"You don't understand, I was sent here by Marcus Atkins from Homeland Security. You need to let me in, right now. This is important."
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. I have orders.”
“So do I. Just radio in, tell them my name.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do anything. Please step back.”
She tried to duck under the barricade, the soldier moving towards her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t bother, unless you want to get hurt."
"Just make the call. My boss can verify what I’m saying to you. It's vital I get inside. You’re wasting time here. My friends and I need to get in."
The soldier looked beyond her to Draven and Herman. “You two got I.D?”
“They’re civilian. You’ve seen mine haven’t you? I work for the government for Christ’s sake.”
“So do a lot of people in this city, lady. As you can see, we have a hell of a situation here. The last thing we need is any more panic. What did you say your name was again?”
“Goodall. Kate Goodall.”
“Alright, well here’s what I’ll do. I’ll try to get word back inside and see if you check out. In the meantime, you go away. If you are who you say you are, we will call you and-”
“Cell networks are down,” Herman said. The soldier glanced at him then back at Kate.
“If you check out, we will call you and have you brought back in. Until then, I’m sorry but I can’t help you."
Kate considered arguing but knew it was pointless. The soldier had specific orders and wasn’t about to go against them for anyone. She sighed and turned back to Draven and Herman. "This might make your ears ring."
Before Draven could question her on what she meant, she took her weapon from her jacket and fired it into the air, three sharp rapports sending the crowd running for cover. Kate didn't move. Instead, she stood between Draven and Herman who both stared at her open mouthed.
"You might want to put your hands up," she said over her shoulder as the soldiers rushed them. They complied as Kate too held up her hands, tossing her pistol on the ground first.
“This is how you choose to get us inside?" Draven said as the trio were shoved to the ground and cuffed, before being dragged to their feet and frogmarched towards the building.
"We got their attention didn’t we?” she said as they were bundled inside, weapons trained on them.
"I just hope we don’t rot in prison for this."
"Me too."
"What?" Draven said, more than a little alarmed.
"Relax, it will be fine," she said, even managing a smile. “Probably.”
II
They were placed in separate rooms under guard. Draven had seen a full hour pass on the clock on the wall, and all attempts to ask the guard by the door to contact his family were greeted with silence.
He leaned back in his seat, ignoring the growling of his stomach. He was hungry, angry, and tiring of wasting so much time and was about to protest to the guard again when the door opened and a thick set, bald man walked in. A brown moustache sat above cruel pencil line lips, a bulbous nose and cool blue eyes. The man turned and whispered something in the guard’s ear, giving Draven a glimpse of the lumpy roll of skin where the back of his head met his neck. The guard un-cuffed Draven, who rubbed his wrists and at the man in the charcoal suit.
"This way Mr. Draven, we don’t have much time," the man said, his accent heavy with a Texas twang.
"That's what I've been trying to say to your guard for the last hour. He wouldn’t answer me. Someone needs to contact my family back in England and get them somewhere safe."
"Good. Those were his orders. Either way now isn’t the time to discuss this. We will do all we can to contact your family and get them to a safe location. In the meantime, you’re coming with me. There are some very important people wanting to speak to you."
"What about the people I came in with?"
"They're waiting too."
Draven was led through offices and corridors into the innermost ring of the pentagon. There, he was shown into a large meeting room dominated by a long mahogany table. Herman and Kate were already seated, the space between them intended for him. He wasn’t sure if star struck was the correct word, but it served as well as any as he surveyed the other people seated around the table. There, at its head, sat Paul Carter, the President of the United States.
"Mr. Draven," he said as the hulking man who had shown him in took his seat to the president’s right. "Please, come in and take a seat. If Miss Goodall is right, you might be the only person in the world right now who can get us out of this crisis."
As a man who always had something to say, it took a lot to leave Draven devoid of words. However, the unexpected turn of events had caught him off guard. On legs which felt a little weak, he walked to his seat between Kate and Herman and sat.
Herman leaned close, whispering in Draven’s ear. "Please, don’t tell them you got all the documents from my trailer, okay buddy?"
Draven nodded, thinking there was little danger of him saying anything. Instead, he swallowed and waited to see what the world’s most powerful man had to say.
CHAPTER TEN
The skies were black with ash and smoke. Like a plague they spread, burning crops, the dry plants giving more than ample fuel to the flames. The fires illuminated the skies, spreading with frightening speed. Joshua’s men went about their tasks without thought, without question. Gasoline was poured, fires started. Those who tried to intervene were tossed into the fires to burn. Fear had grown within the population, as more of Joshua’s men were created, every bite, every scratch adding to their numbers. Those who weren’t changed were rounded up on flatbed trucks and eighteen-wheelers cramped with people, who huddled and cowered, waiting to see what would happen to them. Some were taken to the work camps. Others diverted to slaughterhouses. There, they were stripped naked and crammed into pens designed for the animals. There was no discrimination. Young, old, male, female. Every race, age, and size were accounted for. Those who protested or tried to fight were murdered in front of the others as a lesson in what disobedience could mean. It was a frightening display of efficiency. Driven by the desire to serve their master, Joshua’s men went door to door, house by house, dragging out those inside who were cowering and frightened and burning the buildings as they went. Some were set on fire with people still inside, another visual example to the people that it was in their best interests to comply. Word spread, and soon, the people were waiting on the streets
of their own accord. Heads bowed, trembling as they waited to be taken. This was a coordinated plan, one taking place across the globe. It was beyond pandemic levels. The virus was spreading faster than anyone could hope to contain it. Soon enough, the streets were littered with the dead and ran red with blood.
For the bigger cities, Joshua had a unique plan to infect them and further add to his forces. Cargo planes were commandeered and launched, taking off from fifty destinations in unison. Each plane loaded with the infected, bloated, shambling things close to the end of their host’s lives. Stomachs stretched and streaked with the strain of the build-up of gasses. Some escaped through the mouth and anus, covering the cargo hold in faeces as the corpses purged to make room for the ever-expanding gasses. The stench was horrific.
The planes flew in over the major cities of the world, aiming at the more densely populated areas. Once in position, the rear cargo doors opened, and the plane began to climb, spilling its payload of bloated flesh out.
They plummeted five thousand feet towards unforgiving steel and concrete. The cities, the people. Each impact of flesh on concrete making the bloated vessels explode, spattering the infected blood far and wide. People were hit, others breathed in the toxic gasses and micro particles of blood. Like a domino effect the change began, an exponential transformation as body after body impacted cars and building, some landing in the streets or on roofs of houses and buildings. For the people who were already terrified, it was unbearable. Some decided there was no hope, and took their own lives. Others took their chances and ran, unsure what was awaiting them or where they could even go. There was no resistance, no fight. Those who had worked as police officers or firemen, doctors or nurses, gave no regard for their professions. They prioritised their own families, their own safety. Calls to emergency services went unanswered, crimes ignored. Humanity had reverted to it's most basic of instincts, that of self-preservation. Joshua’s plan had been to break the human spirit, to destroy its desire to resist his plan. So far it had worked.
