The Virophage Chronicles (Book 2): Dead Hemisphere [Keres Rising]

by Landeck, R. B.

  In the dark, Papillon raised an eyebrow, but Tom held up his hand.

  “I know, I know. Seems strange, right? The things that pop into your head when you’re under duress…”

  “Well, I, for one, am not complaining.” Amadou shrugged and took another look around the interior.

  “Justus…” Tom started, but Nadia pre-empted his question.

  “We put him behind the flower stall over there. There weren’t many options, and it seemed…well, appropriate.”

  Tom was thankful the task had been taken care of. His mind wandered back to Gautier and David and what had happened a mere minute ago, half an hour ago or longer. He had completely lost track of time.

  They grabbed some of the plastic chairs left out for the night guards and sat, out of sight and earshot of the dead, who continued to shake the metal shutter with unwavering determination, their cries and moans relentlessly echoing through the night.

  “You said it was a lion?” Tom still found it hard to believe.

  “All I saw was something that resembled what we observed back when we were overlooking National Park. A large brown animal with huge white fangs. It all happened in a split second.”

  “I don’t think there are too many other species around that look like this.” Amadou joined in, and Tom agreed.

  Given what they had seen the previous afternoon, it was more than likely that prides of lions now stalked the urban streets. The dead were as easy a prey as they came, and their growing number made for true abundance. He couldn't help but wonder whether the virus would eventually jump species.

  “So let me get this right,” Papillon raised his hand, counted off his fingers, and shook his head. “We have infected living people, walking corpses, heavily armed gangs, lions…am I forgetting anything?”

  “There is you on the loose.” Amadou couldn’t resist.

  The four managed a round of weary smiles. The memory of their friends’, especially David’s violent demise, was still too fresh for any more than that.

  “What God allows something like this to happen?” Tom wondered aloud

  It was a question that didn’t need an answer and one that had played on the minds of all of them at one point or another, but now increasingly so.

  “I don’t think He likes any of this any more than we do,” Amadou replied almost to himself.

  Out of the four remaining, he had probably suffered the most throughout his life and yet he had never lost faith. Lost faith in man perhaps, but not in the God as he had come to understand Him.

  “Don’t get me started. If He disliked what is happening to this world, He'd put an end to it. One way or another. Simple. He's God, isn't he?” Nadia got up and dusted off her pants. “Pizdets. Let’s look for something to eat. I am starving.”

  And with that, she left to be by herself for a little while. Papillon moved to follow, but Tom put his hand on his shoulder.

  “Let her go.”

  "What does Pizdets mean?" Amadou looked confused.

  "It means total fuck-up. Or something like that." Tom searched his memory of drinking with Russian pilots back in Afghanistan.

  "Like FUBAR?" Papillon wondered.

  "Probably worse," Tom mumbled, already lost in thought again, and wandered over to the flower stall, where Justus rested among plastic Magnolias.

  CHAPTER 5

  Once again each took the much needed opportunity to spend time with their own thoughts. Tom used his to plot their next move. No matter what Justus had opined about the gangs roaming the streets, they would need to move on daybreak. There wasn’t a force in the world, not even the army of corpses outside, that would keep him from seeing Julie and Anna any longer.

  There were ample routes and places to avoid both the creatures and anyone else coming after them. They were now in his backyard. A backyard for a short time only it may have been, but his turf nonetheless. And he would let nobody and nothing change that. He felt renewed resolve rise within him, and he embraced it wholly.

  After a while, Nadia returned, her arms full of various packages, which she placed on the floor in front of them. Through the glass doors of the front entrance and skylights far above, there was now enough light for their night vision to kick in and make out more than they had before.

  “I’d probably avoid the sandwiches.”

  Nadia looked down at her loot. There was still plenty to go round without them, and they munched on crisps and sugary drinks until their taste buds and stomachs begged for mercy. Tom wasted no time laying out his plan, using the empty bags, cans, and boxes to sandbox their next moves. They would not use a diversionary tactic again. During daylight, all they had at their disposal was noise and the attention that it would draw, to attract and divert. Unless they managed to channel it in the right way, they would quickly find themselves surrounded by walking corpses.

  Their second and only option thus was stealth and speed. Tom had mapped out before them a virtual game of hide-and-seek. If they were seen, they would hide. If they were no longer seen, they would move. Between small markets of low-end stalls, strip malls, gas stations, and shopping centers, there were enough fences, walls, entrances, nooks, and crannies for them to do both.

  The diversity of the area would play out in their favour. Roads in and out notwithstanding, the whole suburb barely featured any wide-open areas, except perhaps within well-protected compounds. It was a matter of avoiding the former and exploiting the advantages of the latter. With the plan set as well as they could be, they decided to catch a few hours of precious downtime.

  Thoughts running wild with recent memories sleep was hard to come by at first, but with the moans of the dead as their lullaby, eventually, nature took over and allowed their bodies, if not their minds, to find the rest they so yearned.

  The sun flooded the shopping center’s interior no sooner than it reached the skylights, but none of them had needed a wake-up call. Up at dawn, Tom and the others were still very much wired from the night before, and anticipation of what lay ahead already played tricks on their minds. To their surprise, the dead's symphony of torment that had prevailed throughout the night hours, and only subsided in the early hours of the morning. So used had they gotten to the soundscape, they had barely noticed its absence until Amadou actually remarked on it.

  Peeking around the corner into the hallway, they could now see that although the majority of shamblers were still there, they were but loitering about without purpose. As always, with no sustained noise or presence of the living to peak their interest, heads bobbed and lulled, and bodies swayed back and forth in trance-like stupor.

  This was good news in a way, Tom thought, as the same probably applied to the creatures that had followed the racket during the night. Tom had decided they would try to exit the building via one of the first-floor bathroom windows, easing down one of the external drainpipes as soon as the coast was clear.

  They briefly gathered around the flower stand where Justus body had been laid to rest. With plastic flowers strewn over and around him, he looked peaceful now. Papillon had even managed to ‘salvage’ a new pair of sunglasses from a nearby clothing store, making him look almost like the celebrity he would have wanted to be.

  ‘He would have liked this,’ Tom thought as vivid memories of the previous night threatened to flood back.

  In a way, Justus was one of the few lucky ones. He died by accident, without being infected and would not return as one of the creatures. They said their farewells. Amadou wrestled up an improvised prayer, remembering also Gautier and David, wherever and whatever they were right now. Then the band of four went on their way.

  Looking over the frame of the frosted lavatory windows on the second floor, they assessed their surroundings. Although the adjacent petrol station’s car park and the row of fast food outlets beside it remained largely clear, they knew hundreds of corpses probably lay in waiting just around the corner. A single noise or movement, and they would activate. The few that did loiter ambled about aim
lessly, bouncing off obstacles here and there, each time continuing in a new direction in an endless pursuit of nothing.

  To the left, just out of sight, was one of Nairobi’s premier hotels. And although ordinarily, they would have been the first to head for crisp linen and the promise of generator-powered food chillers, the property’s large forecourt, and porous entrances also made it a virtual death trap.

  They had decided on using buildings similar to the one they were in for their intermittent stops. Few exits and even fewer open ones, with single access and egress points easily secured via security grates. There were many of them. It was a case of the dead dictating the route. They also decided to stay clear of local markets. The ramshackle huts and narrow paths made them ideal in a way, as movement was obscured by wares, umbrellas, stalls, and other objects that made up their chaotic periphery. But the markets, no matter how disorganized they were, all had one thing in common: a limited number of exits. Not only that but the kind which could not be secured in any meaningful way.

  Papillon was the first through the second-floor window. After all, there was little point in Amadou or Nadia squeezing through the opening only to find out that the giant man had no chance of getting out. It took a lot of shifting on his part and prodding on theirs, but eventually, Papillon managed. Lowering himself as quietly as he could, he gingerly grabbed hold of the steel drainpipe running down the wall just below the washroom stall. Keeping a hold on the ledge above, he slowly shifted his full weight until his legs hugged the pipe. Much to his and the others’ surprise, it neither moved nor creaked as he finally let go of the ledge.

  ‘Who would have thought…’ Papillon grinned.

  He slid towards the concrete sidewalk, before dropping down with almost cat-like agility. Remaining motionless, the others watched as he scanned for movement.

  The clink-clank of a soda can rolling down the road had them hold their breath. The few corpses in the immediate vicinity staggered after the noise, followed by a handful of their peers from around the corner. Within minutes the excited shrieks of the dead trailed off into the distance, leaving the petrol station’s forecourt deserted. Two floors above the others breathed a sigh of relief as Papillon finally gave a thumbs-up.

  Moving as stealthily as they could without compromising speed, the four traversed the row of restaurants and then passed through a building on the opposite side, its setup similar to the one they had just left behind. Here, two stragglers, thumped stumps where once their hands had been against the tempered glass of one of the exits. Posing no immediate threat, there was no need to take the risk of putting them down. The noise drowning out their footsteps, the survivors passed behind them without issue.

  They had agreed that with the few remaining magazines they had, even use of their firearms would be but a last resort. Given the sheer number of dead they had seen the night before, doing anything that attracted even one or two could quickly turn into an inescapable avalanche. They climbed a nearby wall, and Tom discovered that his memory had served him correctly. They now found themselves in the car park of one of the bigger shopping centres in the area.

  With its construction dating back to the 1980s, Sarit Centre was also one of the oldest. Back then, glass and steel facades were not only costly, but exposed aggregate concrete was all the rave. As a result, the building’s recessed entrances were narrow and easily controlled. In addition, two single-lane gates formed the only openings in the otherwise solid brick wall around the building and car park.

  With most of the creatures not nimble enough or simply not interested in getting past the boom gates and turnstiles, their numbers were limited to less than a dozen, scattered across the entire area.

  Hugging the inside of the perimeter wall, using parked cars as cover from view, the group moved along the parking lot. By Tom’s estimation, they were now less than two kilometres from his home. Two kilometres until he would hold Julie and smell Anna’s hair as she hugged them. The turnstile squeaked and creaked as they finally passed through the pedestrian exit on the far side, but the staggering dead inside were too slow to catch up. Their moans echoed, but contained within the walls of the car park failed to garner any interest on the outside.

  The road ahead seemed clear, but by now Tom had learned not to be fooled by appearances. They snuck in and out of the driveways of properties along the way. People in this part of town had left their places of business at short notice. Whatever happened here, people had felt safe enough to continue operating until it was almost too late.

  Now, abandoned by their owners in a hurry the small two-story commercial buildings, shops, and restaurants stood empty but open as if still welcoming customers. Seeing how security forces had tried to cordon off the suburb, it was probable that people had felt safe enough to carry on with their daily lives despite what was happening outside the containment walls.

  In a local restaurant, plates with half-eaten meals, now dry and crusty, still sat on the tables. The stench of rotting meat hung in the air. Flies buzzed over the remnants of a mixed grill.

  “Nyama Choma, anyone?” Nadia winked.

  “Nyama, what?” Papillon asked, confused.

  “Roast Meat. Kenyan style. It’s delicious. You’d like it.”

  “Another time, maybe.” He sniffed the rotting food and grimaced.

  Apart from the smell, the place looked as if it was in the middle of service. Handbags and jackets still flung over the chairs, seemingly waited for their owners’ imminent return. Half-full bottles stood next to partially filled glasses, and now dusty cutlery was spread out over the waiters’ station, waiting to be polished. Cigarettes had been lit but then left in the ashtray to burn out on their own. If things had turned ugly so quick in this part of town, then what about Spring Valley further up the road? Tom’s heart sank at the thought.

  Taking the lead, his pace quickened, and the others could sense that his patience was all but depleted. They exited the property to move onto the next one when Papillon stopped in his tracks and hissed.

  “Cover. Now!” He tried to warn them, but they had already moved ahead.

  “I said, STOP!” Papillon shouted louder than he had wanted to, and the others finally complied.

  Tom turned around, the look of anger on his face quickly changing to one of surprise. A few hundred meters behind them, near the entrance to the shopping centre another minivan had arrived. Unlike Justus’ colourful transport though, this one clearly did not belong to friendlies. Armed men were busy ferrying boxes from the mall. Papillon stood watch as Tom, Amadou and Nadia clambered over the low wall of the nearest property, taking cover behind a pillar next to its gate. Satisfied the move had gone undetected, Papillon followed.

  “What are they doing?” Tom whispered from behind.

  Straining to get a better look, Amadou peeked around the corner. A handful of men had exited the van in rapid succession. Fanning out in a circle, they covered front and rear. The ones carrying boxes, lowered them to the ground and likewise readied their weapons and took aim.

  “We’ve been made.” Amadou retreated behind the pillar.

  Tom cursed. It was the last thing they needed. The armed men formed up, a cover team walking next to the van and a fire team taking point. Slowly and methodically, they started moving down the road towards Tom and his group. Short of making a run for it and getting shot in the back, they were trapped.

  “We could go over the rear wall.” Papillon nodded towards the back of the compound.

  “No-Go.” Amadou shook his head. “I had a quick look out the back as we came in. You know, just to make sure. Four meters of wall topped with razor wire. I guess they tried to keep out the riff-raff.”

  “And now the riff-raff is trapped inside,” Nadia replied wryly.

  “We will have to engage soon.” Papillon frowned as the van’s engine noise drifted across to their position. “The only problem is, we will draw just about every corpse wandering the streets towards our location.”

  “
Exactly!” Tom’s excitement seemed incongruous.

  Perplexed, the others goggled at him.

  “Let them, not us, draw every staggering corpse within a mile radius.” He turned his rifle and engaged the safety. “We will all stand up and fiddle around with our weapons a bit before we take aim at these guys. You know, like we don’t know entirely what we are doing.”

  The others now looked at him as if he had gone mad.

  ‘Oh boy,’ Tom thought.

  Further explanation was warranted.

  “We will draw their fire, but we will not fire a single round. By my reckoning, we can get away with it at least twice. You have seen the number of shamblers there are just waiting to snap into action. These guys will have their hands full fending them off and soon won’t be able to worry about us anymore. And if it all fails, well, it’s safeties off all around.”

  “Crazy enough to work, I guess.” Papillon nodded in agreement.

  Amadou leaned in for another peek. Sure enough, now perhaps 200 yards away, the group was still advancing. Poking his head around the corner, he made sure he stayed visible long enough for the men to see that the survivors were still in position. Readying themselves, the four of them spread out a little.

  ‘Stand too close, and someone is sure to take a hit.’ Tom held up his hand and counted down from three. On his signal, he, Amadou, Nadia, and Papillon stood up behind the low wall. Papillon bumped the magazine, Nadia ‘struggled’ with the slide of her pistol and Tom checked his M4 over for an apparent stoppage. They continued to pretend to amateurishly ready their rifles just long enough for the advancing gang to see them. A second later, the four brought up their weapons as if taking aim at the men.

  The gang members reacted as planned. As the survivors ducked back into cover, the first volley of shots disintegrated the top of the wall. The thunderous report of several automatic rifles created an undeniable tidal wave of sound that reverberated and echoed through every street and building in the neighbourhood. When the firing stopped, Tom repeated the manoeuvre.