Smiling, Ian walked back over the thick wet morning grass to his new wife. How does she do it? he thought. It's ridiculously early, she's wrapped up tight in jogging gear and a body warmer, and she STILL looks great.
As Ian arrived at her side, Sandra stretched up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I've always wanted a picture of you standing here. And your mum is going to love it!"
Ian grinned. "Ok - but let's make it quick. I'm a finely tuned athlete and my hamstrings can't take the stop and start the way you amateurs can."
Sandra playfully pushed Ian toward the edge of the marsh, reached into a small zipper pocket on her body warmer and pulled out her phone.
"Stand next to the water - I want to get a bit of everything in this. The water, the trees and the sun."
Ian walked backwards, feeling his feet sink slightly into the soft marshy mud. "How's this?"
With her phone in one hand, Sandra rested the other hand on her hip. "Hmmm. It's so beautiful here, it seems a shame to have you in the picture, but your mom would kill me if I didn't. Now - back up a little more - don't worry about getting your feet wet - I promise to help you warm up when we get home."
Ian smiled at the thought as he gingerly backed up into the softer, deeper mud. Slipping, with the water now up to his ankles, he steadied himself. "Ok - this is as far as I go. One more step and I'll need a horse to pull me out."
Sandra giggled, and lifted the camera phone to her face, framing her husband surrounded by nature at its best. Sandra never tired of the beauty of this place. She loved the orange/red sunrise as it slowly spread its light and warmth over the still marsh. Maybe now was the right time to tell Ian about the baby? Sandra knew how keen he was to be a father, and what better place to find out.
Sandra grinned to herself as she flicked her phone from photo to video. She wanted to capture this moment - the look on her husband's face - as he learned that he would soon be a father. She touched the screen and started recording.
Just then, a loud noise and sudden movement in the shrubs to Sandra's right startled her. Sandra swivelled, and through the screen she could see a young girl emerge from the undergrowth.
She figured the girl was in her early teens, although exactly how old was difficult. Sandra watched through her phone as the petite young girl drifted toward her, murmuring to herself while her head jerked unnaturally from side to side. Expensively dressed in tight jeans, a too-small T-shirt and wedge heels, this girl was not dressed for a dawn walk with nature.
Sandra shivered slightly at the odd sight walking toward her. Something was definitely wrong.
#
Hearing the noise to his left, Ian gingerly turned on the slippery mud and watched dumbstruck as the girl emerged from the undergrowth and walked toward Sandra. Or rather, drifted toward Sandra. Ian watched as she appeared to float in a daze.
Wait.
This definitely wasn't right. There was something other-worldly about this - despite her tiny frame, the young girl seemed ... menacing.
Ian struggled to move forward - slipping in the mud, losing his balance and splashing backward into the shallow marsh.
Although her gaze remained fixed on Sandra, Ian's movement seemed to agitate the girl. She lurched toward Sandra, murmuring and twitching, and for the first time Sandra looked into the girls eyes.
Dark, blood red eyelids shredded and thick droplets of blood tearing down both cheeks, the girl looked deranged. Sandra recoiled, dropping her phone on the thick moss below. Without thinking, she stepped backward, her expensive running shoes crunching and snapping through the tinder dry twigs lying on the soft damp ground behind her.
The girl stepped forward, and her murmuring stopped, her eyes stared coldly at Sandra as if she'd noticed her for the first time. Horrified, Sandra watched as the girls muscles and veins pulsed from her neck and forehead. The head jerked to the right, and Sandra noticed a fist-sized chunk of flesh missing from the girls left cheek, the girls jawbone and teeth glistening in the morning sun through the gaping hole.
Sandra's world slowed to a crawl.
She could hear Ian shouting in the distance, a bad connection on yet another long-distance call.
Sandra stumbled backward. The girl pounced on her chest, the momentum forced Sandra to fall backwards onto the twigs and branches behind her. With a loud crack, her head hit a moss-covered rock, and the world went quiet. She felt the thick blood pour down the back of her neck and her face and neck being pushed and tugged. Through a foggy haze, Sandra watched distractedly as the girl clawed and bit at her face and neck.
Exhausted, her eyes almost closed and her neck warm and wet, Sandra tried to cough - tried to clear the warm wet soup catching in her throat. Sandra looked past the girl's snarling face, red eyes and swirling black hair at the bright blue sky above. Ian's mud-covered face appeared above the girl, and Sandra watched as he swung something hard against the side of the girls head, watched absently as the girl flew to the side.
Sandra looked up at the sky and watched two birds swoop past, playing in the morning sun. He's going to be so surprised to hear the big news.
Blood bubbling from her nose and mouth, Sandra closed her eyes for the last time.
#
The tiny girl was impossibly strong. Ian grabbed again at her but she clung on to Sandra. Biting, slashing, clawing - she was an animal. Ian punched and kicked the girl.
She was unstoppable.
And she was tearing Sandra apart.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ian saw blood spurting from the neck of his wife as she lay still on the ground. He frantically looked around, grabbed a heavy arm's length broken branch and swung it with all his might against the side of the crazed girl's head.
A loud crack echoed up through the trees, the girl's head swung obscenely to the side and she collapsed to the ground.
Ian dropped the branch and leaped toward his limp blood-soaked wife, staring horrified at two chunks of flesh missing from the left side of her neck. Blood was streaming from it and he couldn't staunch the flow. Frantically, Ian pressed his hands to the wound, but it was too much.
He picked his wife up. Silent. Motionless. Lifeless. Ian cradled her in both arms, sobbing "Hold on, hold on, hold on."
Panic and fear coursed through his body. Ian turned, sprinted past the dead girl. In his arms, he carried his dead wife and the child he'd never know.
#
11am Tuesday, San Francisco (Minus 35 Hours)
To the rest of the world, San Francisco's most famous landmark is the Golden Gate bridge, but to those living in the city there is another. To the city's 800,000 residents, the Transamerica Pyramid is more than simply the tallest building in San Francisco - it's a point of pride. An icon. Located at the nexus between downtown and North Beach, the towering pyramid-obelisk commands the sort of rent that ensures only the most expensive kind of bankers, insurers and lawyers work there.
Fourteen stories up this iconic building, standing inches from a pane of reinforced glass stretching floor-to-ceiling, Alex Hill gazed out across the San Francisco skyline. He loved this view. The multi-coloured buildings dotted across the horizon. Stretching out to his right the blue water of San Francisco Bay. Directly ahead was Hill's Coit Tower. Built in the 30s, the 200 foot concrete art deco tower stood proud at the top of ritzy Telegraph Hill. Whenever the stress of work became too much, Hill would instruct his secretary to block out an hour. He'd turn off his phone, take the 15-minute walk to the tower, join the tourists clambering up to the top and gaze out at the bridge, the bay and the city he loved. This was his father's favourite place, the last place they had visited together before the cancer got him six months earlier. Hill didn't hear the chatter and buzz of tourists when he went there. He heard his father's voice.
He wished he was there right now.
A loud, staccato voice snapped him back to the present.
"Sorry to keep you waiting Alex. Been tied up on a call with the Chairman of WhiteStar's private equi
ty partner. Please - take a seat."
Reluctantly, Hill turned his back on the fresh blue-sky of San Francisco winter's morning, stepped toward the enormous polished oak wooden boardroom table and sat down on one of the twenty four enormous leather chairs surrounding it.
"No need to apologise sir. I understand completely, and I'm at your disposal."
Hill examined his boss and the firm's Managing Partner for the last two decades. William Miller was five-nine, weathered and wiry, his grey hair cropped short, Miller was a man who clearly kept himself in shape. At 63 years old, he was a keen and formidable competitor, spending his vacation time competing in masters triathlons around the world. To Hill, he looked like a battle-hardened army general.
Miller gave a cursory nod as he settled into a plush leather chair and slapped a manilla folder onto the desk in front of him. It occurred to Hill that an observer might find the scene vaguely comical. Two expensively dressed corporate lawyers facing each other across a huge boardroom table in a cavernous room overlooking the city skyline. It all seemed so ... excessive.
"Alex. The WhiteStar investors are getting very nervous. As you know only too well, Tanaka's games have made billions. Over three billion in the US alone! But it's been over three years since iSight 2 was released, and in the online gaming business, that's ancient history. The market's caught up. Tanaka's sold us all on the idea that iSight 3 will be even bigger. In a presentation to the investors three months ago, he was confidently predicting two and half billion people playing this new game every single day. That's one-third of the planet! In the same presentation, he also claimed that what he'd built was at least five years ahead of anything else out there - and from the research and video interviews with beta testers, it seems he might be right.
Hill interrupted. "I understand he's late sir, but with respect, Tanaka has always been late releasing his games to market. I think we have to balance that with the results from the game testers in the labs - which are better than anything any one of us has ever seen before. When we interview players after they've been exposed to the game, they describe the game as if its some sort of addictive drug. That's true across the board. Age, gender, culture - they all fall in love with the experience. Given how strong the reaction has been, and the fact that it launches in just over two weeks, is there a chance that the investors are over-reacting?"
Miller glared at Hill as if offended by the idea.
"The problem, Mr Hill, is that costs keep rising, the new game launches in two weeks time - almost a year late I might add - and not one of the investors has seen a final version of the technology in action. In my opinion, all very good reasons to be worried. But the real concern is the rumours that won't go away. The whispers that the old problems are back again."
Miller paused briefly as if expecting a response. Getting none, he continued.
"The investors have instructed us to find out what the hell that man is up to and report back within 48 hours. They've made a fortune from Kaito Tanaka, and they intend to do so again. They don't want anything to get in the way, which is why we need to find out more about these..." he paused, ".. issues. Alex, we have an obligation to protect the interests of the investors in WhiteStar - our client - whatever it takes. Do you understand?"
Miller fixed his hard gaze on the firm's newest and brightest partner.
Hill was determined not to show any weakness in front of the old bulldog. Effecting an air of calm, Hill returned the older man's stare.
Hill replied, "Of course sir. We've been through this before with Tanaka. He's a visionary, in many ways he's a genius. However he's also a little awkward around strangers, and when it gets this close to the launch of a new game he can get a little ... unpredictable. I agree he can be hard to manage, but I've had three good years representing our clients' interests with Tanaka and I'm sure I'll have no problem with him this time."
Miller flicked impatiently though the folder in front of him for a few awkward moments before his gaze lifted. Seemingly ignoring Hill's comments, he growled.
"Something is going on here, and I don't like it Alex. There's a lot of money on the line here - not just for our clients but for this firm and you as the partner leading this work. I don't need to tell you that these latest reports are ... troubling. I need to find out exactly what's going on, and if there's any substance to the investors' concerns. However, I can't seem to make any progress when I'm in San Francisco and Tanaka's in Japan. To be honest, I have a very strong suspicion that Tanaka is avoiding me."
Hill nodded. Miller was the sort of person a lot of people tried to avoid.
"I have to admit, over the last few weeks I've had the same experience sir. So what do you want me to do?"
Miller fixed his hard gaze on the younger man, his jaw tightening.
"Go to Japan. Take the advisory team with you. Look around this hi-tech operation he's built and see what he's up to. Get the Professor to check all's well and report back to me. I need to hear that things are on track and that we won't have any of the issues we had two years ago."
Hill nodded. "Ok - it might take me a while to gather the advisory team together, and coordinate with Tanaka's team in Japan. When were you thinking I'd leave?"
Abruptly, Miller stood up, snatching the folder and spinning it across the polished oak table toward Hill.
"Tanaka's team have been contacted and are expecting you. Our people have already worked things out with Santos and Harper. The only guy you have to organise is the Professor. Everything else is taken care of. Go home and get packed - you're flight leaves in a couple of hours."
#
6pm Tuesday, Washington D.C (Minus 31 Hours)
"Any further questions for Professor Skinner?"
Ben Skinner glanced up at the clock on the wall as it ticked past 6:00pm and winced. He really needed this to wrap up quickly. In the next two hours, he needed to get back to the hotel, wade through messages, get changed and to the restaurant for dinner with Doctor Santos. With Eva. He'd first met the beautiful psychologist when they were hired as an advisory team for a high-tech gaming company 18 months earlier. Since then they'd often travelled together and talked at least one a week as part of the ongoing project. Skinner had grown very fond of Eva, the first time this had happened since his messy, self-destruction of a divorce a couple of years back. Skinner suspected that Dr Santos - Eva - felt the same but he wasn't sure. Well, tonight he was going to find out. He'd decided to gather his courage, set aside his nervousness and tell Eva how he felt. It would make things awkward between them if she didn't feel the same way - but Skinner was willing to take the risk. It was time to find out.
Collecting himself, Skinner turned back toward the group and watched as the bull-like Department Chief scanned the room, daring his team of law enforcement and homeland security executives to speak. As the youngest ever Chair of Criminology and Criminal Justice at the University of Maryland, Ben Skinner had been invited to present his most recent research to the Homeland Security's New York CyberSecurity team. In the early days, he had dreaded these presentations, but over time he had come to accept them as part of the job. In fact, he'd made some useful connections from these meetings and one or two new friendships.
When he'd arrived for this meeting two hours earlier, Skinner had been surprised to discover this formidable high-tech surveillance unit operating out of a nondescript office building in mid-town Washington. In its glory days, the building had been head office for a worldwide magazine publisher. When the world stopped buying print, the business had morphed into one failed Internet business after another and then finally disappeared a couple of years ago. A few months after that, the Department of Homeland Security's CyberSecurity Division moved in - an irony that hadn't escaped Skinner.
Skinner had presented his findings on the criminal potential of a new generation of multiplayer online game technology over a dozen times in the last two months. Starting at the top and slowly working his way down the food chain. No matter what level
he presented to the audience - overworked and battle-weary law enforcement teams, always responded the same way.
The Sapporo Outbreak Page 2
