Vampire's Day (Book 2): Zero Model

by Yuri Hamaganov

  So he had not been mistaken yesterday, when he heard the familiar roar of Crocodile engines. The helicopters had really come through with aid; it was most likely that the majority of burned cars in the wasteland were their work. This helicopter was apparently damaged and an emergency repair was being conducted - he could see mechanics on the runway. It was nice to see at least something familiar in this place, cut off from the rest of the world.

  At that moment, Colonel was hosting the Crocodile pilot. In Latin America, an Asian mercenary flew the Russian helicopter. The pilot was about fifty, while his operator was also a long time out of flight school, Richardson thought, considering the pilot’s documents. Nguyen watched as Colonel compared the photo in the passport. Of course, he was seeing the pilot for the first time, but Nguyen knew him from photos and videos.

  He had no doubt that the documents would not let him down; his Chinese comrades had made very realistic false papers, with the entry of fake names in the entire necessary database. Colonel returned a passport without question, and Richardson then thanked the pilot for his combat work, stressing that the Crocodile’s squadron had appeared in the nick of time. Then he briefly mentioned the damaged helicopter, which stood on the runway - the Crocodile would be restored as soon as possible, the mechanics were already working on it. But unfortunately they couldn’t fly immediately after the repair, because the quarantine hadn’t been lifted.

  “We caught up with your commanders; they know that you have safely landed on my airfield. It has been agreed that, until further notice, you’ll be under my command – we might need your flying tank again. In the meantime, rest, and thanks again.”

  Nguyen didn’t argue about this, he is well aware that he has no choice.

  When the squadron was raised in the air, he thought that maybe the battle had been a grand fake, which the Americans organized for some unknown reason. But winning in a short but fierce night battle, and then landing on this military base, Nguyen was convinced of the reality of what was happening. He saw numerous destruction and fires, the hospital with dozens of wounded, many dead.

  There was destruction and death everywhere and only near the mobile complex did a suspicious silence reign. He had seen this strange building on satellite images, and knew that it appeared here recently, at the same time as the epidemic outbreak started in the valley. Nguyen had no more doubts that the epidemic was real; he realized it when the enemy infantry continued to attack despite the heavy fire from ground and air. A mentally healthy person wouldn’t do this. So Mr. Lao, he thought, don’t worry - this wasn’t a coup, what was happening here was much more serious.

  63. Risks and Opportunities

  “The containers with ammunition and medicines have been delivered.”

  “Just in time,” said Richardson angrily, lighting a Cuban cigar. This procedure wasn’t simple, as his fingers were trembling badly. He must get some sleep; it was his second day awake, and he’d started seeing double from the stimulants.

  The commanders delivered ammunition now, when it was all over. Yesterday the infected had nearly overrun their defenses, and if not for the Crocodiles attacking, the enemy would have broken into the base territory. No, the infected were eager not to get to the base, but to the refugee camp, as had been clearly stated on the radio. Give us the civilians, that are what they had demanded. Why did they need those civilians? And what if he gave them the civilians – would the infected really retreat?

  “The second batch of food for the refugees and spare parts will arrive at three o'clock.”

  “How many helicopters can be restored?”

  “Number 3 was shot down in yesterday's battle, and the entire crew killed – the bodies have already been evacuated. Number 1 was severely damaged during the shelling, and the mechanics say restoring it isn’t possible. Number 5 was hit by a machine gun, and the shooter seriously injured, but they managed to make an emergency landing; the helicopter will be repaired today before night. The remaining helicopters are all in order.”

  So, now he had three combat-ready helicopters and three crew, with another helicopter soon to be in service. The drones had suffered small losses; their ammunition would soon be refreshed, but the pilots needed to rest, they had been on duty for thirty hours.

  Yes, now they all needed to rest, at least until the evening. The infected army, close to victory, had been destroyed almost completely. Some of them managed to escape to the city, and the marines couldn’t pursue them. Not all the infected retreated; some continued to move forward no matter what, but without the mortars and rockets supporting them they couldn’t do anything, and were killed by machine guns. They wouldn’t get a second chance - they had lost nine-tenths of their force, and now would not be able stand against the Bumblebees and armored vehicles.

  How many enemies had they killed yesterday? Ten to twelve thousand. How many lost? Thirty-seven of his men were killed and another forty-nine wounded. Colonel was still only counting his losses, although he knew that Bronson had also lost two of his men. And there had been civilian casualties: fifty-six people were killed in a trench. Out of two dozen wounded, three, maybe four, would die, because they couldn’t get them to the hospital. He had no morgue, so the bodies would have to be temporarily buried in a common grave. The wounded would be more difficult. They could become a major problem in the near future - the small medical center was just not ready to receive such a number of victims, particularly after the death of almost all the staff.

  The quarantine mode was still in place; the commanders required them to remain in place and wait for further instructions, intending to eliminate the spread of the virus, even at the cost of the wounded, which could still be saved if rushed to the hospital.

  He could hear machine guns again, as another group of infected tried to break through. They didn’t stop their attempts to get into his base; Colonel couldn’t see any sense in this. They weren’t trying to get out of the valley, and again made suicidal attacks. Palmer said that the virus caused them to attack those who aren’t infected, in a clever mechanism to accelerate the spread of infection. But she also said that they would quickly go crazy, and Colonel doubted it. They had a plan; they were well prepared and had been close to victory. He didn’t understand what they wanted.

  The marines took captives, picking up some wounded and shell-shocked with great caution from among the broken cars. But they couldn’t interrogate them due to complete insanity. The prisoners weren’t allowed to attempt escape and attack the marines with their bare hands, but they weren’t fit for a meaningful conversation either, so the marines had to shoot them. He couldn’t find out who had directed the attack. And this was necessary, so that he could understand what was happening. Richardson instinctively felt that Palmer couldn’t be trusted, the red-haired bitch playing some cunning game he had to solve, with serious consequences if he didn’t manage it.

  Sooner or later, this story would pop up to the surface; they couldn’t muzzle these civilians for long. And then it would be necessary to find a scapegoat, and he risked taking this place. He needed to know what was happening, so it was necessary to interrogate prisoners, those who still had their minds, those who had fled to the ruined city. But how to extract them out there? It was necessary to contact a drug lord and send him to the city, before he went to get some sleep.

  64. Side effect

  “I insist that the quarantine should be abolished, and we must resume air communication with the base.” Walt took a stimulant with mineral water, frowned and continued, looking at the gray expressionless eyes of the coordinator. “As soon as possible.”

  The man didn’t answer immediately. Walt knew his manner was to ponder important words, and he thought he was used to it, but now the short delay caused him to suffer a bilious tide of anger.

  “There is no need to rush; quarantine is reliable. This is our opinion.”

  Another familiar habit - an answer in the plural. The coordinator didn’t consider himself a regal persona, it wa
sn’t a fad, and he really did express the opinion of many - those who determined the actions of Walt and his team. Those who had financed the Prometheus project. Those who owned everything.

  “It will be safer to wait for the complete destruction of the infected, before resuming regular flights, Mr. Berenger. The risk is too great.”

  “The risk is justified - we can’t work under such conditions. You need results, but how I will get results without Z-Model? It’s foolish to wait for the successful completion of the operation, when you have no patients on the operating table.”

  “Palmer has everything she needs at the site. The mobile research complex is equipped to a high level, and you know it, Mr. Berenger, you designed it. We didn’t consider the costs, hired the best specialists, and now rightly expect that they will cope with their responsibilities.”

  “The mobile complex was designed to study the lander in case of an emergency landing, and it has served its purpose. It wasn’t planned to be a permanent base. Palmer had the task to pick up the capsule and open it safely under supervision, after which the lander should be promptly sent into the main lab. But this didn’t happen. Her team has a severe shortage of materials and equipment and can’t perform all the necessary studies; they are at the limit of their capabilities. And now, when most of the infected are dead, or will die soon, we are facing a real threat of losing the Zero-Model forever, which makes our long-term work meaningless.”

  The Coordinator pointed to the screen instead of answering.

  “Here, enjoy.”

  It was the reports of major newspapers. Terrorist attack on the largest natural gas field. Fate of civilians unknown. Further escalation of the conflict could lead to a resumption of civil war. Officials declined to comment. And so on.

  “At the moment we are trying to find out where the leak occurred, but that isn’t so important. The world already knows that there is something unprecedented in this valley. The local authorities, supported by the Chinese, are sending drones there. The Russians have changed the orbit of one of their spy satellites, and now it passes over the valley, providing them with high-resolution images. The relatives of the soldiers and civilians are inciting panic on social networks. And you are now suggesting we cancel the quarantine? We will have to return the civilians, and they will not keep their mouths shut, about all they have seen. News of a dangerous disease is our only effective cover for what is really happening. And this will be smashed to small pieces if we resume regular flights.”

  “I'm a scientist and engineer, so management of public opinion isn’t my specialty or responsibility.”

  “We know that. But we remember that the Prometheus project wasn’t just extremely expensive, but also extremely secret. And now all the secrecy has gone to hell.”

  “Well, if that is so, then it makes no sense to delay. We must remove Z-Model as soon as possible and deliver it to my lab!”

  “Recently, there have been some doubts among us about the desirability of the project continuation. In the end, what have we got, Mr. Berenger? Seven years of hard work, financial costs that is comparable with the lunar program, and what for? It isn’t my opinion, but some of us believe that it isn’t worth bringing another type of biological weapon to Earth, however interesting it is.”

  Walt tried to think who it might be that believed the project didn’t bring any positive results. Who was it, exactly? He didn’t know everyone among his superiors; the Investors had never visited the area, acting through the Coordinator. He had met with three of them, but there were about a dozen, Walt couldn’t say with absolute certainty which of them intended to throw the towel in the ring, and which was ready to continue the fight. Most importantly, the defeatists had not yet achieved a majority; otherwise they would have to close the project. Majority want to continue working, rightly deciding that it was too late to stopeverything. This was what he had to focus on – it was too late to retreat.

  “Everything that is happening at the moment – these are the possible side effects caused by the emergency landing. We still haven’t see the Z-Model in action, and don’t understand what it’s capable of.”

  “Side effects? What is the major effect then?”

  “I don’t know and will not know until I have studied it personally. Everything that is happening is a consequence of very bad luck - the situation didn’t go as planned. I am sure that the Z-Model was left there by its creators for someone who would find it and carefully examine it. We found the sarcophagus, and we should explore it, but this normal research hasn’t happened yet. Some tend to think that this is a weapon, but I would give you another hypothesis, comparing the Zero Model to medicine, for which the user manual is lost. If you try it at random, without knowing the exact purpose, dosage and precautions, nothing good will come of it. But if you understand how it works, the results are quite different. The accurate use of penicillin didn’t happen at once either.”

  “So, I say to them that it is medicine and we are waiting for the results of its actions?”

  “Tell them that the Z-Model retained biological activity after seven hundred and fifty million years. I think they will realize what this could mean.”

  Finally - a clear glimpse of interest in the expressionless gray eyes. The message had reached the target.

  “OK, I will tell them everything. But the quarantine will not be raised soon, not until the extinction of the infected. Richardson and his men are working on it.”

  “While the quarantine is in operation, we can’t take anyone out of the valley. But what if we send in another group, together with additional equipment; I’m ready to lead it. If we will not be able to explore the Zero Model here, then we can work on the base. I repeat that the time factor is now the most important thing for us.”

  “I understand you; I think it can be arranged. Be ready, the answer will be given today by five o'clock this evening.”

  65. Disposal

  This time it was easier than yesterday - they didn’t have to leave the base, and all that was required was quickly filling a shallow trench made by a bulldozer with sand.

  Boris and Donahue were luckier than others - their tent had not been burned, so they had somewhere to go after breakfast to fall on the bed and sleep without dreams. Natasha's fingers still trembled, and she was sure that she wouldn’t be able to even close her eyes, but still fell asleep before her head hit the pillow. It was seven o'clock in the morning.

  They woke up at three and went to dinner; Natasha again began to pour soup into a plastic bowl. After they finished lunch, Boris and Donahue returned to the digging - mobilized civilians rebuilt the defensive line, badly damaged during the night battle. But they also received another job – to hastily bury rows of black plastic bags in a shallow trench.

  The work was well organized – the border of the trench had been marked by thin red sticks and the bags had large bright yellow tags that contained the minimum information necessary for subsequent reburial - sex, age, name, and date of birth. There were about fifty bags.

  The hasty burial confirmed his assumption that the quarantine was still in force, so it was still unknown when the refugees would leave the base. Some had tried to get in contact with their relatives and calm them down, but unsuccessfully - until further notice there would be no contact with the outside world. Mobile phones couldn’t find the network, and even the radio wasn’t working, thanks to tightly controlled and powerful interference. Nobody knew what was going on outside. No one could talk about what was going on inside.

  After they finished work there, they walked a mile and began to dig a second trench. There were fewer bags here, and on the labels ranks were listed as well as names – the marines buried their dead here. Donahue called Boris, pointing to the battlefield, where a giant bonfire flared, next to which bulldozers crawled.

  “What is it?”

  “Disposal. They’re burning the bodies of our dead enemies.”

  Judging by the flames, the marines had poured tons of gasol
ine onto the fire, trying to burn everything possible, rather than throwing the bodies into a large crater and covering them with earth. Boris remembered his enemies, the same ones that had attacked the convoy, remembered how they looked. They looked like madmen; in this he had no doubt. Rabies? It was quite possible, and so it was understandable why the marines were so thoroughly getting rid of the corpses. They were certainly not bluffing about the quarantine.

  “Donahue, did you speak today with your friends from plant management?”

  “Yes, I spoke with one procurement officer, because I thought he might know more. Nothing.”

  “Didn’t want to talk about?”

  “He doesn’t know anything. He and his partners tried to talk with some officers, offering a lot of money to make one call, but the marines threatened to beat, if they repeated their request. One tried to threaten them with court, and the marines broke his glasses and almost knocked out his teeth. Boris, what do we do next?”

  “The same as now - work where we’re ordered to, get lunch and go down into the trench when requested.”

  “Do you think there will be another battle?”

  “Maybe,” said the paratrooper, glancing at the funeral pyre and bulldozers. “Maybe there will be more fights, but certainly not as heavy as yesterday. It seems that last night the marines killed most of the enemies.”

  “Well, if we have won the war, how long do we have to wait for the plane? I can’t wait to get out of here, I'm sure that’s the same for you and your girlfriend, too.”

  “I don’t know. They can’t keep us here forever, two thousand refugees have many relatives on the mainland. The relatives in the United States don’t know anything about their loved ones, but have probably already realized that there is something terrible happening in the valley. They will call all newspapers and TV channels, giving interviews, writing petitions to court - in short, they will make a loud noise and the commanders will have to react. They can’t forget about us, so the authorities will be forced to do something. I think it won’t take long, but for now keep digging.”