by D G Leigh
The next slot showed a normal lunchtime debate program, without a live studio audience. A heated discussion ensued. Somehow they'd managed to convince guest speakers into broadcasting centre.
“Red oceans, this is the sign.” An African- American Preacher used to appearing on his own Christian channel quoted directly from the Bible. Rose from his chair. “Revelation 16:3. The second angel poured out his bowl on the sea and it became like the blood of a corpse.”
An academic, who'd managed to dress himself smartly for the cameras, shirt and tie. Shook his head disagreeing. Interrupted. His name texted-flashed above the ticket-tape updates along the bottom of the screen. Professor James Osborne, Hilo University. “I believe it's a chemical attack.”
“That's one of my teachers.” Jo remarked.
“A terrorist incident?” Host Tim Matthews couldn't keep his panel from speaking over one another. Didn't want to, this was great for his ratings.
“A biological weapon you mean?” The only female in the line up. No name on the screen. Probably a staff member trapped in the building placed there to make up the numbers.
“Not exactly. We're dealing with a new plant toxin rather than an intentional man-made agent. It's no coincidence an allergic reaction and the arrival of this so called red weed on our shores. An unknown marine species brought up from the depths. Released by oceanic currents or a shift in the Earth's tectonic plates? Like certain landbased acacia cousins that use chemicals to control formicidae, ants. Employs the insects as an army of bodyguards to fight off predators that wish to eat their leaves. In return for services rendered the colonies are given safe haven within the plant's hollow stems, its technical term is myrmecophytes.”
“I'd say this was a little more serious than hay fever!” The lady crying behind her nervous laughter. “The dead are coming back to life.”
“It's not reanimation. It's simply residual compounds left in the victims bloodstream. Much like a worm cut in two, both wiggling halves eventually die.” Osborne a man of science carried on talking. “In some cases ant warriors have been known to destroy neighbouring vegetation that might complete for precious soil nutrients or sunlight. Everybody should remain inside. Let the army round up those under its influence. Eradicate our beaches of vegetation. The bane will subside. A vaccine shouldn't take long to synthesize considering every nation on the planet is hard at work.”
The Preacher delivered his verdict. “YOU will be judged.” Pointed a bony finger. “The Book of Deeds.” Loomed in front of the single camera. His words a chilling statement. “The dead have left Hell.”
“I've heard enough. Please, turn it off.” Jo pale. Leslie muted the volume. “We're going to be okay in here aren't we?” Looking to him for all the answers.
He'd been planning already. “We should fill every conceivable container with water. Pour out all the bottles of alcohol if we have to. Use the tables and chairs to isolate the kitchen and the ladies restroom. Barricade ourselves in that area. Batten down the hatches.” Turned towards the items laid neatly in rows on the bar. “I've got two more clips for your Baretta.” Slid them over. “You know how to use that thing don't you?” Their lives might depend on it.
“I'm originally from L.A! This is a girl's best friend!” Blow a kiss.
“Pepper spray, I'd like to give that to Susan. A mobile radio handset, lots of channels. Should be able to reach other pockets of survivors, keep in contact. Don't ever tell them where we are.” Adamant about that. “Gas mask, riot helmet, flashlight, collapsible baton, breathalyser, cable ties, handcuffs and a box of beanbag slugs for the shotgun.” Shock his head disappointingly at those rounds but put a few in his trouser pockets anyway. “As a bonus I've got us these.” Handed Jo one of two ballistic vests. “Might offer some protection?” Clicked his teeth.
Jo studied the cache. “You'd make a fine hunter-gatherer.” Strapped the jacket on, felt sturdy. “What shall we do first?”
“Let's wait until tomorrow before we start gutting this place. I'd imagine the airport should be under military control. Evacuation flights operating?”
From under the table Susan had been listening to them. “All air travel suspended. Nations closing their borders.” Her arm, lifted the sheet like a ghost, pointed at the TV.
Astronauts aboard ISS had front row seats to the end of the world. Exceptional cameras two hundred and fifty kilometres above Earth showed this unholy red beast present in all our oceans. Spreading globally from the deepest trenches. Pacific, Atlantic and the Indian Ocean. There wouldn't be a single continent this pestilence wouldn't contaminate. The organism erupting from Milwaukee Deep had already encompassed the Caribbean.
Around the globe billions of terrified people fled the coasts. A flotilla of shipping blockaded the Strait of Gibraltar. In places five vessels abreast lashed together. The Suez Canal dynamited in a bid to keep the Mediterranean creeper free.
The band of Pacific weed steadily floated towards America's Western Seaboard. It'll cover the final track in just over two days. Moving without any interference from tidal currents. Did the algae know where it was going?
The TV suddenly went blank. Followed by a test tone.
Please standby appeared. Seconds later an unemotional computerised voice to the plight of the human race came over the airwaves. Head towards open ground. Leave highways clear for official vehicles. Remain calm. Stay tuned for updates. This was the emergency broadcast system. Last used during October's shakeout prepareathon for earthquake awareness. Aftershocks may be coming. A list of schools and churches used as shelters scrolled up the screen.
Jo held her hand over her mouth. “They're sending people out into danger!”
“Are we having a sleepover here tonight?” Susan asked.
Jo composed herself not wanting to frighten the child.“Yeah, that'll be fun. Good idea.”
“Mr Leslie will have to sleep in another room because he's a boy.” Susan gave Jo a massive hug. “I'm glad you're a good prisoner.”
An unwelcome thud came from the roof.
Leslie collected his stepladders, positioned them under the skylight. “Why don't you two go make some snacks?” The two adults didn't utter a word what they both feared might be prowling about up there. Jo exchanged weapons making it possible for Leslie to climb with the Baretta ready.
“You don't have to send me away Mr Leslie. It's okay to kill the bad strangers.”
Leslie bent down to Susan's level. Appointed the aluminium star on her t-shirt. “You're now Special Agent Susan. On a lunch break.” Twizzled her towards the kitchen. Patted her bum. “Off you go.”
--- Nine ---
Steve was the overweight guy waving at Leslie from the diner's parking lot three hours ago. Still alive! Climbed onto the roof using the bin that Susan wanted to hide in. Fallen off a few times before finally getting a firm handhold. Very drunk. He'd been drinking all night at his boss' wedding reception. Once on top of the restaurant passed out from exhaustion after his milestone accomplishment.
Muttering to himself his nose met the end of Leslie's pistol. “Do you mind dear chap? Point that thing somewhere else. I'm not a pheasant.”
He'd passed Leslie's first test. Luckily talking to himself as he crawled along otherwise he would've got a bullet straight to the head. At first his slurred speech sounded more like the constant low moans from the creatures roaming below. Tried to squeeze through the tilted skylight. “Got any booze in there? I'm drying out old boy.”
Leslie banged him sharply on the forehead with the pistol's grip, that got his attention straight away. “Are you bit?”
“They're not very talkative those other fellows but at least they're not heavy handed.” Hiccuped. “If you clout me again, I'll have no other alternative but to call the local constabulary.”
“If you behave yourself you can come in.” Leslie definitely couldn't afford Steve to smash the glass trying to break in or worst draw the attention of gathering infected to the vulnerable roof. “We've a visi
tor, from England!” He announced.
“Is it the Queen?” Susan inquired from the kitchen. “Should I make tea?”
--- Ten ---
Steve didn't complain being handcuffed to pipework. Leslie had generously given him the Bourbon to finish off. Mel's latest patron drifted into a loud snoring slumber.
“How'd he make it through?” Both Jo and Leslie thought the same thing. “Why had they left him alone?”
Susan sniffed the air. “Poo-wee! He smells awful.”
“Don't get too close, honey.” Jo pulled her back.
“He sounds like a bear.”
All morning there'd only been a few startling bangs against the building's outside. No zombie had tested the rear door handle or tried to smash their way in. “If he gets any louder I'll move him to the basement. I don't think those things can hear us in here?”
“Is he a bad prisoner, Mr Leslie?”
“I don't know yet Deputy Susan.”
“Special Agent Susan.” She corrected. Standing to attention.
There wasn't anything within reach that Steve could use as a weapon. Leslie removed the almost empty bottle. Searched him, a set of car keys and a mobile phone - No signal message. “I don't think he's even aware of what's happening.”
“Good!” Susan pleased. “Then he won't have any bad dreams.” Started looking through the lost property box. Miraculously found a soft toy, a unicorn that a customer's child had left behind. “Can I keep this? I don't suppose the real owner is ever coming back.” Claimed the prize as her own.
--- Eleven ---
After lunch Jo and Susan made a girl's den in the basement. Blew up balloons and hung bunting used for independence day celebrations. Leslie sat at the counter going through all the bandwidths on the walkie-talkie one-by-one while keeping a watchful eye on Steve.
“Hello?” An anxious women's voice came over the airways.
Leslie wasn't surprised, knew there'd be other survivors out there. “Hello?” Tested to see if the lady could hear him. What was the range of this radio?
“Oh, dear God. Thank you. Is that the coastguard? Can you help us please?”
“I'm not the coastguard. What's your name? I'm Leslie. Where are you?”
“Betty Carmichael. Can you send for help. I'm trapped on our boat. My husband isn't well. We have arguments, every couple argues, such is life.” Awkwardly laughed. “We've been married forty years. Love each very much but I really do believe Burt wants to kill me. We got tangled in some weed. I wasn't blaming him. After he scooped some up he went crazy, came at me. I've locked myself in the cabin. I don't know what to do?”
“It's alright Betty.....”
The sound of smashing followed by Betty's screams ended their conversion.
--- Twelve ---
The TV that had repeated the same information message for over two hours came back to life. A static snowy picture, its signal high jacked an unauthorised bandwidth. The sender tried to boost the output. Had access to cutting edge satellite communication equipment.
“This is Private First Class Capaldi of the 21st Engineer Regiment.” A scared kid no more than twenty-one years. The highest rank left alive. Inherited command of an isolated military island facility.
Must've really pissed somebody off during training to have been given such a boring assignment. He'd hope to have seen action in the Middle East. Tour with his enlisted elder brother but instead got posted to this lousy rock in the Pacific, a lot of youngsters did for their first six months. An immense dish array behind him. “We've managed to contain the spread of the virus.” Didn't reveal how, his eyes red from weeping. Panning the camera revealed his last three comrades. Nervous soldiers kept their distance from each other but close enough to still maintain a defensive perimeter. Each had discharged live rounds. Killed for the first time, all personal serving on this remote IBCM listening outpost forged close friendships.
The government base's original complement fifteen good men. “After regaining control we ventured back down to the shore to f**king annihilate the seaweed.” One private dressed in his hazmat suit took point. “Found this happening.” The unit of four soldiers advanced. Trusted and followed Capaldi's orders.
The honeycombed towers melting on their own, steaming away under the sun. Evaporating completely, just a bubbling puddle of red goo left. “It's over.” Their victory brought no joy. “I shall remain on duty until relieved of command. Willingly accept court martial for my crimes.”
Before the transmission terminated the operator off camera spoke. “That's strange? It's just started raining but there's not a cloud in the sky?”
“The lad went loco if you ask me.” Steve commented. “Murdered his own platoon.” Sounding sober after his brief nap. “There were some rather unsavoury guests at my boss' party last night to! I say darling do you by any chance have the key to these restrains? I hope you can forgive my disconcerting predicament?” Thankful still wearing his clothes at least, not like the last time he got plastered at a party.
Leslie gaped opened mouthed at the jolly well-to-do. “Do you have any idea what's happening in the world?”
Steve thought for a moment. Excited. “Has the Dow peaked over twenty?” He'd predicted it might.
Leslie poured Steve a fresh black coffee. “I'll better bring you up to speed.”
--- Thirteen ---
Intermittent news streams played all evening. Mostly from helicopter crews surveying the coasts. Poisonous honeycomb spores disintegrating. A domino effect across time zones. Billions managed to escaped the outbreak. The highest concentrated areas of zombies carpet-bombed. Decisions to flatted whole contaminated coastal town taken regardless of entrenched survivors.
The horror continued. The red weed still edged towards American's Pacific Seaboard and Europe. The Mojave desert basically became a FEMA quarantine metropolis as the whole Californian state packed their bags and went in-country for the weekend. Vegas remained open, business as usual.
--- Fourteen ---
It wasn't thunder they heard. Fighter jets soared overhead in the heavy rain. “Are we safe? They're not going to bomb us?”
“It's a good sign.” Leslie reassured Jo. “There's still an army working to protect us, a chain of command running the shop. We're on a huge island with a relativity low population for its size. We saw all those cars fleeing Hilo. A lot of people got away. This disease in theory should be low in numbers considering. Troops will arrive to sort things out.” That's what he hoped.
Susan stirred in her sleep. “Is my mum and dad okay Mr Leslie?”
“Shhh, there's a good girl.” Jo cuddled the orphaned kid in her arms. “I'll take you downstairs to our den.”
Steve now released from his captivity had a plan. Held up his keys. “My scatty secretary had me land at Kona instead of Hilo? I told the car rental girl, a damn fine filly, that I was going to be late for my boss' wedding. Gave me a map to Saddle Road. Said that the hire company doesn't allow their cars to use this unsafe route but it'll save me an extra thirty minutes instead of having to go round.”
“Steve if you're asking me if you're going to get in trouble for taking a shortcut? You've got bigger problems to worry about!”
“No, dear boy. On my pleasant jaunt over here I past Pohakula training camp, there's an airfield. I'd say that's an ideal destination wouldn't you say? A fortified base of operations. Away from the coast. Soldiers and guns. A runway.”
Leaning closer Leslie conferred in confidence. “Do you think we're in the firing line?”
“Those aren't rescue helicopters hovering in the dark picking up survivors.” Steve's insightful opinion. “It's a bloody day at the races. The last two over the finish get carted off to the knacker's yard.”
Bradstaw Airfield laid sixty kilometres. “It's too risky. We've got a good place here, strong, food and water. Tomorrow we'll put a sign on the roof.”
“I understand where you're coming from but rest assured that basement won't withstand a w
arm welcome from your Uncle Sam's TNT delivery service when it comes. It's up to us to get ourselves in that winner's enclosure. You being a local gent I reckon you know how we could best avoid the presumably impassable jammed motorways?”
Leslie doubtfully shook his head. “There's pretty much just the one road! One down, one up and another through the middle. The rest of the island is forest reserve. Steep terrain.”
Jo popped her head up from the basement access. “A girl from my class goes horse riding at the weekends. The stables aren't far from here. The woods are full of bridleways.”
“It's been a long stressful day. Let's try to get some sleep.” Everybody's burnt out. “In the morning we'll sneak a peek from the roof. See how many of those creatures are wandering around.” Even after all they've witness nobody felt comfortable saying the incredible word zombie. “I'll escort Steve to his car.” Leslie tapped his ever ready shotgun. “Drive back here. If you and the Susan want to leave we'll all go to the stables. If on the other hand Steve decides to stay at least we'll have a vehicle outside if we need one in a hurry. Deal?”
