The Sapporo Outbreak

by Craighead, Brian

  Tanaka turned back into the gloom and walked toward the group, his back throbbing from the punch.

  #

  As the group reached the entrance to the stairwell, the lights flickered once and came on again, the floor again bathed in bright white light.

  Skinner blinked several times, then scanned the area.

  The legs of a security guard poked out from behind a desk, while the body of another guard lay slumped near the bank of elevators. Skinner examined the group - the survivors. Some injured physically, and a few like Harper looked very bad. Everyone seemed smaller, beaten, defeated.

  As they walked toward the stairwell, Skinner looked on in horror as a large pack of infected players arrived at the entrance. They looked young. Strong. Vicious. Some were armed with shattered glass and broken furniture but a few, the largest men at the head of the pack, had nightsticks from the guards.

  But they seemed different.

  The crazed, incoherent jabbering had gone. The jerky avian head movements typical of the infected, had slowed a little. They looked more - in control - and much more dangerous. The skinny teenager at the head of the pack flicked his head left and right, and the pack slid out of the stairwell and to the side of the shattered group. There were at least thirty of them. Skinner watched as the pack moved in swift silence and knew. They were being surrounded before the massacre.

  Skinner pulled Santos near. No one spoke.

  "I love you Eva."

  The wiry teenager at the front stretched his arms to the side as if being crucified. He held an enormous steel spike in one hand and a nightstick in the other. His white shirt and neat black tie were splattered with blood and gore. He slowly lowered his head, stared at Skinner and the beaten group behind him. The young man let out a primal roar and sprinted forward. His pack followed. They were coming at them from all angles.

  There was nowhere left to hide.

  #

  The fireworks crackled and popped. It seemed they'd never stop. From the left. From the right. From behind and from the front. The noise was deafening. The smell of gunpowder and smoke drifted. Skinner covered his ears, and pulled Santos in tight.

  A moment later - although Skinner found it hard to say exactly how long - the noise stopped.

  He shook his head. His ears were ringing. Santos' face was buried in his chest, her arms curled around his waist so tightly that he could feel the dampness of her bandaged shoulder.

  Skinner raised his head and watched as an army of uniformed Japanese police moved in. Heavy boots, bulletproof jackets, guns held at eye level, the men cautiously sidestepped their way toward the infected pack, now lying slumped all around.

  Rising up from the stairwell, Skinner could hear more shots echoing. The sound of boots thumping and men barking out to each other.

  The cavalry had arrived.

  Santos hugged Skinner tight.

  #

  6pm Thursday, Sapporo Japan. OUTBREAK

  The squat bulldog of a man stood at the head of dozens of armed police. They had their rifles raised, scanning the area in all directions.

  The man walked up to Skinner as he led the survivors forward.

  "You are safe now. We are clearing the building. Follow me," and with that simple instruction, the man led the group toward the stairwell. Six armed officers led the way, scanning the stairs as they walked down. Behind the huddled survivors, another six officers scanned the stairwell above. Two large policemen took over from the technicians, picking Harper up and lifting him down the stairs. Another was talking in urgent concerned whispers to Tanaka as they trudged down the stairs.

  A few moments later, they arrived in the main lobby to find it filled with police and what looked like military. Everyone was armed. Outside, the snow was falling thick and fast, whipped up by the freezing winter wind. Inside, dozens of medics were treating the injured. Skinner recognised the pretty young woman from the front desk as a medic fed an intravenous drip into her arm, her head heavily bandaged. Armed police patrolled the area while helicopters buzzed outside. Spotlights flickered across the quiet residential neighbourhood.

  It was a battlefield.

  Several triage nurses flitted between the survivors. In the distance, Skinner noticed that the nurse examining Tanaka waved urgently, and two men ran to her aid. He suddenly realised someone was talking to him. It was so hard to focus. His ears were still ringing, and the voice sounded far in the distance.

  "Oh my God. No."

  Tait was staring into the middle distance, whispering commands into his glasses.

  Skinner turned to Tait.

  "What?"

  Tait turned to Skinner, and with a look of sheer terror replied, "The game's been released. Whoever did this released it online. It's everywhere!"

  #

  Tait frantically spun around the level one reception, now a makeshift emergency room, desperately trying to find Tanaka. He walked past armed policemen, injured staff and the dead and dying, before finding Tanaka lying on a bed beside Harper. Medics were buzzing around both men, Harper grey and unconscious, Tanaka drowsy.

  Tait sprinted over.

  "Mr Tanaka. They've released the game. Not our version, but the infected game. It's been copying for hours, and every iSight 2 player's already in it. Hundreds of millions are in it right now!"

  Tait trailed off.

  Tanaka gazed up at Tait, his liver had been ripped open. There was no way of stopping the internal bleeding in time. Shock was quickly setting in. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he said, "Shou - is she safe?"

  Tait looked into the dying man's watery eyes. Tait knew Tanaka blamed himself for his wife's death. He knew Shou's injuries haunted him every minute of the day.

  Tait leaned forward.

  "Yes. She's safe"

  Tanaka smiled. Relieved.

  A moment later, Tait stood up, turned and walked away from his brilliant mentor.

  Behind him, a fresh-faced doctor covered Tanaka's face with a blanket. He whispered briefly to a nurse beside him, turned and moved on to the next bed.

  #

  All through the freezing cold night, despite the deep snow and the blizzard, armed police and military kept arriving.

  And news crews. Lots of them.

  They stood shivering outside WhiteStar's imposing gate, held back by fierce armed guards. They jostled for the best shot. The best angle.

  In the underground car park, Skinner watched as a stream of injured people walked or were carried out. It seemed to Skinner that more and more blanket-covered corpses were leaving, and he briefly wondered just how many people had died today. A medic grabbed Skinner by the elbow and pulled him toward a waiting ambulance. Skinner held tight onto Santos. The medic was talking quickly. He was telling Skinner that Santos would be traveling in a separate ambulance. Skinner shook his head. "There is no way that is ever happening." Skinner gripped onto Santos with all his might and Santos gripped back.

  There was no way they were separating.

  After a few more seconds, the medic gave up and led them both into one of a row of ambulances lined up in the underground car park.

  The medic closed the door, and a few seconds later the ambulance drove slowly up the ramp and out into the blizzard. The vehicle slowed to a crawl as the storm picked up. As they drove out through the gate and into the dark night, Skinner and Santos stared at the scene outside.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Skinner picked up a flurry of movement and a few muffled screams.

  Racing out from the car park ramp were dozens of battle-scarred and infected players. They were spilling out onto the concourse, attacking people at random. The armed police at the gate wheeled round and struggled through the near white-out conditions toward the escapees.

  Skinner watched as the police nearest the pack started shooting, their targets falling into the snow. The thick snow and wind blanketed the sound - the whole scene playing out in silence. Skinner saw two policemen overpowered, and then the infected swarmed ove
r them, pounding on them then sprinting off. Two of the players emerged with the policemen's guns and started firing indiscriminately into the crowd. Armed police flooded from the building, shooting at the scampering pack as they ran.

  Completely exhausted, Skinner slumped back onto the ambulance bed. Santos stretched out her right hand, wincing at the pain in her shoulder, and took hold of his hand.

  Skinner turned. and smiled. Outside, the muffled sound of screams and shots drifted through the winter air.

  The ambulance glided on through the sleeping, snow-covered Sapporo night.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Epilogue

  "Let's go through it again, please."

  Skinner yawned. He was too tired to be angry anymore. He'd told the same story over and over. To the police, to a government official, to even more police and, weirdly, to a guy from the CIA. Something like that. It struck him as odd that they'd be here in Japan, but Skinner didn't really care anymore. He just wanted to see Santos.

  And then get some sleep.

  He let out an exhausted sigh of relief when the nurse stepped forward and hustled the guy out. As the door was about to close, Skinner turned to the nurse and softly asked, "Excuse me, but can you tell me where Doctor Santos is?"

  Confusion briefly flickered across the young Japanese nurse's face, replaced a moment later by understanding. She smiled warmly and replied in broken English while pointing a thin finger to the wall behind Skinner's head. "Yes. We are observing Doctor Santos next door."

  "And how is she?"

  A moment's pause, and then, "She is well. Tired I think, but well."

  Skinner smiled, grateful and relieved. "Thank you."

  The nurse returned his smile and ghosted out of the room.

  The heavy wooden door swung shut, and he was finally alone, lying on a steel framed bed in a private room on the 11th floor of the Shiritsusapporo hospital.

  Skinner listened as the muffled voices in the hallway slowly faded away. After a minute or two, satisfied he was alone, Skinner flung aside the bedsheets and with a groan swung his legs to the side. He sat for a moment while the sparks of pain in his back subsided. His legs rested on the steel frame of the bed. He could feel it, cold and hard, through the thin cotton of his hospital gown.

  Skinner checked his cell phone. 2.25 a.m. He could see a long list of missed calls and messages. At least a dozen were from Steve Clark. He'd give the big detective a call later in a few minutes. Skinner heaved himself on to his bare feet, grabbed his cell phone, took a deep breath and moved quietly to the door and out into the hallway.

  He glanced left and right. The clean, modern corridor was empty. In the far distance, he could make out a semi-circular desk and the top of a woman's head. Keeping his eyes fixed on the woman, he walked silently toward the door, pushed down on the stainless steel handle, nudged the heavy door inward and entered.

  Inside, the room was identical to the one he'd just left. At the door was a small door leading into a private bathroom and shower. In the middle of the room, the same solid bed. Beyond a large pane of glass looking out into the cold dark winter night, the snow falling heavily over the Sapporo skyline.

  Eva Santos turned away from the television, mounted on the wall opposite her bed and toward the sound. She paused for a split second, and then an enormous white smile lit up her face. "Ben. I've been asking to come see you, but they wouldn't let me. They said the police were still interviewing you."

  The pain, the stiffness, the exhaustion all disappeared. Skinner felt an overwhelming surge of joy at seeing her again and almost sprinted toward the bed. Santos sat up on the bed, and as Skinner arrived she tenderly wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him toward her. "Ben, I wanted to say..."

  Before she could finish, Skinner kissed her. Gently at first, and then a deeper, more passionate kiss. His hands slid around her narrow waist and he held her tight. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating up between them. Her long dark hair drifted over the back of his neck. It was sheer bliss.

  A few moments later, Skinner slowly, reluctantly relaxed his embrace and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  "I'm sorry Eva. I've been waiting to see you since we got here, but I've been stuck in endless de-briefs with every law enforcement, spook and bureaucrat in Japan."

  Santos leaned forward and placed her tiny hand over his.

  "It's alright Ben, I understand. I've been answering the same questions over and over, and all I could think about was you."

  Skinner smiled briefly, before furrowing his brow in concern. He'd seen Santos face recoil in horror at something over his shoulder.

  Skinner swivelled, painfully, to look behind. The paper thin OLED screen mounted on the wall was running a muted 24-news channel. English subtitles scrolled constantly along the bottom third.

  The screen was cycling between jerky, amateurish video footage from around the world. From the United Kingdom, the USA, Australia, China, Japan, Germany and Mexico, the backdrop changed but the same savage act played out.

  Innocent people in streets, malls, office buildings, even schools, were being attacked by rabid gangs. The news service had hastily pixellated the footage to hide the most explicit violence, but it was clear what was happening. People were being hunted down and murdered. Bludgeoned. Ripped apart.

  Skinner stared, aghast, as the ticker added more and more countries to the list of countries reporting 'outbreaks'. In the background, Skinner heard Santos softly whisper, "Oh Ben..."

  Skinner felt his phone buzz.

  He looked down at the glowing screen, mouthed "It's Clark," to a nodding Santos, and answered. "Steve."

  "Ben. I just heard what went down over there. Holy shit! Are you and Eva ok?"

  "We're fine Steve. In fact, Eva's with me now. Hold on, I'll put you on speaker."

  Skinner pressed a button on his cell phone, and lay it down on the bed.

  Clark's voice rumbled, "Hey Eva, how you doing?"

  "I've had better days Steve. We're both a bit battered and bruised but we'll recover. What's happening at your end? We're watching news reports of attacks everywhere."

  "Yeah, it's bad. I joined a response team in Palo Alto. When I got there, there were hordes of crazies pounding on bodies. It was like an army of mall shoppers all loaded up on bath salts. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds. Waves of them just kept coming. So far, 180 of our people are injured, 33 confirmed dead. But that number's going to rise fast.

  Skinner leaned forward. "Holy shit Steve. What happened?"

  "Well, in the end we had no choice. The officer in charge was down, so I had to make the call. I moved the big guns up front and took them all out. Every single crazy one of them. Mums. Dads. Even kids. It was gruesome man."

  Skinner shot upright, wincing as his back screamed in pain.

  "Jesus Steve. Are you ok?"

  "I'm fine Ben. It got a bit personal at one point, so I'm nursing a few bumps and bruises. And the shit has really hit the fan. Nobody knows what the hell we're dealing with here. It's spiralling out of control, and everyone's frightened as hell."

  "So what's happening there now Steve?"