After about fifteen minutes of gentle persuasion and cajoling from the in-house psychiatrist, Abraham sat up. He was severely disoriented and sat immobile, listening to the gentle instructions via the tannoy system.
‘Mr De Silva; Abraham, can you hear me? If you can, please stand up – if you are able.’
De Silva slowly gathered his wits, swivelled and transferred his weight to his arms, and manoeuvred himself into a standing position.
‘Excellent, Abraham, now, when you are ready, please remove all of your clothing and place it into the crate in the corner. Just as we rehearsed, Abraham. The quicker we do this, Abraham, the quicker we can decontaminate your hand.’
De Silva was beginning to react a little more quickly now and began to remove his outer clothing. He cast the helmet, outer and inner clothing and then his underwear into the crate until, after about fifteen minutes, he stood naked and trembling in the middle of the shower room. He had fouled himself and if anybody else had been in the shower room, the stench would have been overwhelming.
He presented a truly pathetic figure, and as the doctor studying his right hand through a CCTV camera lens on full magnification, he gasped aloud.
‘What is it?’ asked the psychiatrist, who sat beside him, behind the glass.
‘I think the chap is in serious trouble. The idiot has scratched his hand to shreds in the panic to wipe off the gore. He's infected for sure! Call Professor Forbes and get him here ASAP!’
***
Forbes arrived at the decontam centre exactly three hours after the luckless Abraham De Silva had been infested with gore.
After checking that the two imprisoned zombies remained securely in the re-sealed cabin of the Chinook, he hurried to consult with the decontamination medical staff.
Abraham had continued his cleansing procedure and was now lying on a bed in his separate isolation room. He was showing no symptoms as yet, but had been placed on a saline drip by a brave volunteer which carried a mild sedative to calm his terror. Abraham, too, had noticed the abrasions on his hand and had descended into further histrionics, before being persuaded to move out of the shower room.
Professor Forbes viewed his assistant using the CCTV camera, moving over every inch of his body, searching for signs of transmutation. He concentrated on the eyes and asked Abraham if his vision was OK.
Abraham realised the significance of this question and burst into tears, hyperventilating despite the sedative. He gave no answer and Forbes believed that he had sunk deep into an introverted depressive state. The professor now had an important decision to make. The evidence strongly suggested that De Silva was infected and the next three hours should confirm the diagnosis. Consequently, Forbes had a unique opportunity to exploit.
If he could get through to Abraham before the infection took full hold and he grew beyond human communication, Forbes might gain his permission to use this personal tragedy to study the full results of human exposure to zombie gore. It may be viewed as cynical and callous by some, but he was obliged to give it a try. Abraham was beyond help now.
The Professor requested a technician to assist with the donning of full protective clothing, and then he entered Abraham’s isolation cubicle with only one aim in mind.
‘Abraham, how are you feeling?’ he ventured.
De Silva gave him a withering stare.
‘Damn you, Forbes. What in God’s name have you done to me? Am I going to turn into one of those devils – or am I simply going to die a vile and painful death. Thanks for nothing, John!’
Forbes was deeply upset at the fate of his assistant and friend, but he had other greater priorities to address. If Abraham recovered, then all well and good. If he mutated, then Forbes had a unique opportunity to study the transformation. He needed to pose an important moral question before Abraham slipped out of touch with reality.
‘Abraham, I'm truly sorry. It was an enormous SNAFU, but to be fair, you knew the risks. You just ran out of luck. The mission was a success. We've got the two zombies to study and they are awaiting processing right now. However, I need to ask you a question, Abraham.’
De Silva was staring hard at Forbes, attempting in vain to focus on the eyes behind the protective mask.
‘What could I possibly do for you, John?’
Forbes hesitated, but knew that there was no time to waste.
‘Abraham, if you contract the full symptoms of the virus – you know full well the consequences. You saw Sgt Leach and his transmutation. We must know if an infected human dies – or after a period, returns to life and joins the zombie horde. I'm here to ask you if you are prepared to help us – indeed help the world, by allowing your body to develop the full symptoms and allow us to observe you after normal death.’
De Silva could hardly believe his ears.
‘You what? You want me to turn into one of those things. No – never! Go to hell Forbes. Do the only decent thing and kill me the instant I show any signs of change. Have mercy…for God’s sake…have mercy man!’
At this point, Abraham suddenly arched his back violently, his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped unconscious into a coma, and the first stages of metamorphosis.
Forbes stepped back involuntarily in shock, as he watched his erstwhile colleague slip away. However, he had already made his mind up. There was a note of cynicism and finality in his tone as he whispered:
‘I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then Abraham.’
***
The two captured creatures were still in the Chinook.
They had been virtually ignored whilst the human passengers and crews had been dealt with. Now that they had been safely decontaminated and isolated, Forbes and the remainder of his team could address themselves to the problem of monitoring the pair of captives, who were growing increasingly agitated.
The rubber cover had not yet been removed, but had been sprayed systematically to wash away all trace of gore. The two zombies continued to moan and rattle the cage and seemed to be working their way up into a frenzy – a feeding frenzy! The scent of nourishment was strong.
Forbes and two of his team stood at the rear of the Chinook and took in the scene. There was water everywhere, running down into the central drain and into the holding tank. The professor instructed two of the accompanying supervisors to remove the rubber cover and dispose of it. It would be burned in due course.
As the zombies were exposed to daylight, their excitement grew to new heights and they turned to face Forbes and his team. They were truly grotesque. Their hands were almost reduced to bone as a result of grasping the bars of the cage. Lumps of rotting flesh lay on the floor of the perspex box, yet the creatures seemed utterly indifferent. They had only one thing on their minds – the consumption of human flesh.
Forbes grimaced and turned to an assistant who was sitting at the wheel of a pallet forklift.
‘Danny, pick them up and we’ll get the cage into the observation chamber.’
Danny was not happy to be operating the fork-lift, but had drawn the short straw. He had witnessed the demise of his friend, De Silva, and did not contemplate the chance of contracting the virus with any enthusiasm. However, he was a government agent and had little choice in the matter. Refusal would have meant instant dismissal and repatriation to the US in disgrace – and a probable lengthy prison sentence. Therefore, he started the forklift engine and edged forward up the ramp at the slowest speed possible. There would be no careless mistakes. He approached the cage slowly and slid the forks under the perspex as the zombies went beserk. They slavered viciously and slapped their bony arms against the perspex. Danny winced and desperately tried to avoid their inhuman stare and concentrated intently on his task.
He operated the lift and engaged the box. It lifted six inches off the ground and he reversed down the ramp, and in his peripheral vision he saw his colleagues, including Forbes, inching away.
He exited the aircraft and manoeuvred the forklift across the courtyard and into the observation a
rea, which lay through a metal roller door. He drove into the centre of the room that was around twenty metres square and was overlooked by a panel of thick perspex windows on the first floor, ten feet above. Bright spotlights lit the entire area, which was bare of any furniture and had a grey concrete floor centred with a grill. There were eight water spray nozzles positioned two on each wall, well above the reach of any prisoner.
Danny dumped the cage in the middle and backed out much faster than he had entered. When he was clear, a man wearing protective gear, covered by two armed colleagues entered the room and unlocked the padlock on the perspex door, removed the lock, and quickly exited the area. The extra thick roller doors closed and two additional guards attached a set of four heavy-duty padlocks to secure the exit. There was no way out.
Forbes, his two assistants and the guards went through the basic decontam procedure, which took twenty minutes, changing into standard overalls. By the time they had returned to the observation room above the captives, the two creatures had worked out how to exit the cage and were exploring their new environment. Since the area was airtight, they had lost the human scent and had calmed considerably. They were now merely wandering aimlessly around the concreted chamber.
Professor Forbes looked down upon his foe.
‘Well, we've got them. It's truly regrettable about Abraham, but he knew the risks and, quite frankly, there is too much at stake to be overly worrying about one man. If we can answer some of the vital questions we have about these ‘things’ then we might have a chance of survival. And unfortunately, in due course, if Abraham survives and fully mutates, he will be joining our friends down there.’
His two assistants were astounded.
‘What do you mean, John?’
‘I mean that Abraham is lost to us now, but his usefulness is not. It may seem harsh, but he will be used – and even sacrificed, if necessary, to enable us to find a way of defeating this menace.
I will stop at nothing to prevent this plague reaching the main European coastline. If they do, in my opinion, life as we know it on this planet is over!’
Day 180 / Z-Day 145
Wednesday 12 June
UKRA HQ – Brussels
Lord Irvine sat grim faced at the head of the conference table in the UKRA main building in Brussels.
His audience were the heads of state – political heads of state – of the eight most important, powerful and most importantly, the most exposed countries in the world – the United States, Ireland, France, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Russia and China. Also in attendance were the Secretary Generals of the United Nations and of NATO and the leaders of the European Union. Sitting at the side of the room, in a strictly advisory role were the heads of the American CIA, Russian Federal Security Service and the acting head of MI5. The three senior military officers advising Lord Irvine sat behind him. Professor Forbes waited quietly in one corner. There were no secretaries, deputies, translators or other witnesses present. All present could speak English. However, the meeting was recorded on video and audio.
However, no record of this meeting was to be placed into the public domain until this group of world leaders was in complete agreement. If the situation was accepted, acknowledged and agreed by all, then a further planning meeting would be required to decide how to disclose the potential disaster to the world, and then how to combat and defeat it.
Global panic and knee-jerk reaction was a real possibility, and all precautions to prevent terror and the ensuing inevitable chaos was a mandatory course of action for this committee.
None of those present, except Forbes, POTUS, the Russian leader and the British First Minister, knew the intimate details of the subject up for discussion. Some of the attendees were mystified and some very angry by the curt and summary order to attend.
They had been given no option.
Attend or risk catastrophe!
Each delegate had a red folder on the desk in front of them, which they had been requested not to touch until permission was granted. Lord Irvine did not want the meeting to go off half-cocked. Outrage and disbelief fuelled by reflex action was not desirable. It was crucially important for Lord Irvine to introduce the subject logically, methodically and believably. The entire scenario was highly preposterous in the extreme – yet it was actually happening. It was his job to convince the leaders present that their positive reaction was vital to the survival of Europe and the World at large.
When everybody was settled, coffee served, all waiters cleared from the room and guards posted on the other side of securely locked and soundproofed doors, Lord Irvine raised his head, took a deep breath, and addressed the conference:
‘Ladies and gentlemen. I thank you all sincerely for attending at such short notice. I can assure you that your presence is essential. What I have to divulge is going to be extremely difficult for you to accept. Logic dictates that the information I am going to impart is impossible – a pure fiction. However, I can assure you that I am deadly serious. The danger is very real and if we ignore the threat building up across the English Channel – then that much vaunted and overly dramatized scenario – Armageddon - will have truly arrived!’
***
Ann Fletcher, alias Marie Poitier, was enjoying fabulous luxury on board the P & O cruise liner that she boarded in Barbados two days earlier, on the tenth of June.
Her suite was top class and as a result, she dined at the Captain’s Table nightly and met some very wealthy, influential and interesting fellow passengers. There were few Brits on board, although a lot of the conversation touched on the terrible crisis in Europe. However, the cruise itinerary was excellent and she envisaged a wonderfully relaxing trip back to Western Europe.
She had unlimited access to the internet, through which she had been monitoring events back in Belgium. The move to Breton intrigued her immensely and exercised her mind when considering options for the future. She had left messages for Chloe and Suzi on their joint secure e-mail account, but neither had responded. She was oblivious of the fact that Suzi was languishing in jail in the US. In any case, Ann would have been unperturbed.
She also took the opportunity to monitor her financial position.
The vast majority of her cash was in untouchable offshore accounts spread worldwide – but all in the name of Carol Leslie. She had decided not to attempt to enquire about or withdraw funds in that name from any bank with British or American connections. The Marie Poitier identity, as far as she knew, was still secure and Ann did not want the CIA connecting the two. If they did, then the game was certainly up. She was a sitting duck on board the ‘Aurora’. Although she had considered this option when booking the cruise, she reasoned that if she were cautious, then the security services would lose track of her as she circumnavigated the globe.
She had already opened an account in the Poitier name in Zurich some months previously and was using cash from that source to fund the additional cruising expenses. Certainly, after a couple of months the trail would have surely gone cold.
Lord Irvine had other, much bigger fish to fry!
***
When the two captive zombies were finally released and had been released from their cage at the decontamination centre in Brussels, 'The Rook' received a subliminal message.
'The Rook' was in contact with all of her caste and ‘felt’ a miniscule, yet detectable surge of loss when one or more ‘died’ or demonstrated signs of extreme distress. Many thousands merely plodded along en-route to the sea and the gathering areas, feeding when necessary and caused 'The Rook' no problem or concern. Every now and then, some would expire for one reason or another – and she detected a small electrical impulse, which told her that one of her followers had gone forever.
It was this sense that revealed the distress being suffered by the two captives in Brussels. 'The Rook' had no idea where they were as the pair was unable to convey concrete information – merely basic raw emotion. If it were extreme enough, then 'The Rook' picked up on it. Anyone - anywh
ere – anytime.
She resembled a grotesque telepathic Queen Bee.
The anguish transmitted by the prisoners in Brussels was strong. 'The Rook' sensed human interference. She had felt it before when the eleven were taken and killed by the SAS. 'The Rook' felt it powerfully that day, and had subsequently learned to judge when her caste were in real trouble.
This was now such a time.
She monitored the situation closely. She relegated other matters to the back of her mind. 'The Rook' concentrated carefully on this distress call and considered what action to take.
She would wait for possible developments. There might be more to learn about the humans. More information to strengthen her position.
'The Rook' would be patient.
For now.
Day 180 / Z-Day 145
Wednesday 12 June
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 121
