Alice in Deadland Trilogy (35 page)

She finally met a small group of
policemen huddled near a shop. The officer had a pistol in his hand, and the
four constables with him were carrying rifles. The officer waved her down.

‘Miss, you can’t go that way, the
entire neighborhood is crawling with Biters.’

‘I need to get to the Taj Hotel.’

The officer shook his head sadly.
‘Miss, from what I hear, there are Biters running wild around there. Why don’t
you go home?’

There was no longer any home for
her. Protima got on the bike and rode in a different direction, no longer sure
of what she would do or where she would go. When she had learned of the plan
outlined in Stan’s documents, she had agreed with his assessment that the men
who had planned this were playing with fire. But now having seen firsthand what
the infection did to people, she feared there was no real way to contain it.
Like a wildfire, it would consume everything in its path before it burned
itself out.

She had been so lost in her
thoughts that she almost did not notice the black SUV just a few meters behind
her and closing fast. It careen towards her and she swerved out of the way just
before it could hit her bike. The front windows were down, and she could see
the driver and one more man. Both were Caucasian, wearing dark suits and
wraparound sunglasses. She had seen many men like them during her time in
Washington. Government agents.

At first, she thought nearly
knocking her down was an accident but then the driver leaned out. In his hand
was a pistol. Protima was so startled that she lost her balance and the bike
hit a bump on the sidewalk, sending her sprawling to the ground. That saved her
life as the man fired and the bullet slammed into the wall over Protima’s head.
The man was shouting something, but Protima’s ears were still ringing from the
gunshot and she could not fully understand what he was saying.

Protima sat against the wall,
shocked. No US government agents would be openly shooting at someone in the
streets of Delhi.

The driver stopped the SUV and got
out, walking towards her, the gun pointed at her. The second man remained in
the car, but he now had a gun pointed at her as well. The man stood over her
and said, ‘Dr. Protima, I believe you have a package for us.’

Realization dawned on Protima as
she recalled the confrontation she had with Appleseed back at the embassy. She
stood up gingerly, feeling her ankle. The man’s expression was inscrutable
behind his dark glasses.

‘Who are you? What right do you
have to attack an American citizen?’

The man smiled. ‘Look, Doctor, I
don’t want this to be any more difficult than it has to be. You’re in way over
your head here and you have no idea about just how far my bosses can go to get
the material you have in your hands. Just give me the damn package and you won’t
hear from us again.’

It would be tempting to hand over
the package, but could she live with the knowledge that she had done nothing?
Tens of thousands had already died, and God alone knew how many more would die
before it was all over. Her heart pounding, she took a step back. ‘Young man, I
have no doubt you could take this from me, but I will not hand it to you.’

The next thing Protima knew, she
was on the ground, her head splitting with pain and warm blood flowing down the
side of her face. The man raised his gun again.

‘Look, lady, I don’t take any
pleasure in hitting old women, but I do need to do this.’

He leaned down to grab the package
from Protima’s hand. That was when his partner screamed from inside the SUV.

‘Greg, they’re coming. Hurry up!’

***

Protima looked beyond the man in
front of her to see a crowd of at least twenty of the infected converging on
the car. A couple of men in bloodied and tattered suits were mixed up with men
and women wearing the rags of slum dwellers. They all had that vacant
expression and many of them had blood from other victims running down the sides
of their mouths. The man inside the car fired again and again, and three or
four men went down, only to get back up within seconds. The man inside the car
was screaming as he was pulled out and the crowd tore into him, clawing at him
and biting into his face.

‘Goddamn Biters!’ the man in front
of Protima growled. He shouted into his earpiece. ‘We’re under attack by
Biters. Are there any other Zeus units nearby who could help?’

Zeus. Protima had heard that name
before somewhere, but she had no time to think as some of the infected now came
around the car towards her. The man in front of her pointed his gun at the
approaching crowd, shooting several times till his magazine emptied. All he did
was enrage them further, and they began to emit a high-pitched screech as they
surrounded him. Protima took advantage of the situation to get back on her
bike, and she pedaled away, forcing herself not to look back even when she
heard the man’s screams and cries for mercy.

Now all around her she saw signs
of the infection spreading. There were several dead bodies littering the
street, and two of the infected wrestled down and killed a large man who had
tried to fight back. She realized that while they first tried to infect others
by biting them, any significant resistance led them to kill their prey.

Tears were freely streaming down
Protima’s face as the world fell apart. When people at the highest levels of
government had brought about such a catastrophe, what hope did a frail old
woman like her have of fighting back?

Two more of the infected crossed
her path, and she turned her bicycle sharply to the right to avoid them.
Biters. That was what the man who had attacked her had called them. She
wondered, as the infection spread around the world and more and more people
fell to it, would people give it a name? Some terrible infections in the past
had been trivialized by the names they had been given – bird flu, swine flu.
What would this scourge be called? Would there even be enough people left to
give it a name?

Now, further away from the open
spaces around the Embassy, she had entered a congested market. Khan Market, if
her memory served. The closely packed shops and cars parked in front of them
had made it a deathtrap. Hundreds of Biters milled around and a few corpses lay
around the front of the shops. A small group of policemen had tried to make a
stand and Protima almost gagged at what remained of them – little more than the
bloody shreds of their khaki uniforms.

The front wheel of her bicycle
caught on something and her bike buckled under her. She was thrown forward,
landing hard on the ground. The wind knocked out of her, Protima scrambled to
get up, but slipped and fell again. She had attracted the attention of a few
Biters and they were converging on her. She felt around and found a rock the
size of her fist. The nearest Biter was now no more than a dozen feet away, a
thin man with half his face ripped off wearing a bloodied and torn suit.
Protima threw the rock as hard as she could, and it hit the Biter squarely on
the head. He staggered back, but then he looked at her with vacant, red eyes
and screamed, blood tricking down the sides of his mouth. Four others joined
him and they came towards Protima.

Protima tried to scream for help,
but not a sound came out. She tried to get back on her feet but a cold, clammy
hand grabbed her leg. Suddenly, someone else grabbed her and yanked her back. Protima
pulled away, but whoever was holding her was too strong. She found herself
looking into the face of a young man wearing large rabbit ears on top of his
head.

‘Come on!’

He pulled her behind him on his
bike and as the Biters roared in anger, he rode away at high speed.

For several seconds, Protima did
not say anything. Instead she just clutched her unlikely savior, thankful for
her narrow escape. Finally, the man spoke.

‘Look, I need to get to my
girlfriend’s place. Where can I drop you?’

Protima’s mind was a blank. Where
could she go that was safe? Was anywhere safe any more?

The man spoke, a tinge of
irritation in his voice. ‘You must have a home or a family somewhere?’

Protima started to say something
but all that came out was a stifled sob. The man stopped the bike and turned to
look at her, his voice considerably softer.

‘I’m sorry. Things are crazy and I
just want to make sure she’s okay. I’ll drop you wherever you want, just tell
me where.’

Protima got her first good look at
him and realized that he was very young, perhaps a college student, with kind
eyes.

‘Young man, you have done quite
enough for me. Just drop me ahead near the India International Center. It
doesn’t yet look overrun and I can see a lot of policemen in front of it.’

He took her near the gate and as
she dismounted, he smiled.

‘There must be something really
important in that packet you’re carrying. You didn’t let go.’

Protima looked at the bundle of
documents she was carrying. Having failed to give them to Gladwell, did they
really matter any more? Given how deep the conspiracy ran, would it have
mattered even if she had been able to meet him? She wished the man luck as he
rode away.

A dozen police constables stood in
front of the India International Center. Normally the venue of high-profile
conferences and meetings, it was more than likely that there were high-level
government officials or diplomats stranded inside. That would certainly explain
the security, though Protima doubted the policemen would be much use. Several
of them were huddled around a radio, and they looked terrified.

One of them saw her approach and
beckoned her. ‘Come inside, but I doubt any place is safe now. Not after what’s
happening around the world.’

Protima thought he meant the
spread of the infection and she told him of what she had seen in the city. When
she mentioned that the Biters seemed to be killing those who tried to resist
being converted, she saw more than one of the policemen visibly blanch. The one
who had spoken to her pointed to the radio and said, ‘ It’s not just the bloody
monsters, the whole world seems to have lost its mind.’

‘What do you mean?’

When Protima asked him what he
meant, he answered, a haunted expression in his eyes.

‘Some elements in the Pakistani
army launched nuclear missiles against our forward areas. It seems that Iran
also launched missiles at Israel. It’s not clear what exactly is going on but I
think a nuclear war is either breaking out, or is taking place as we speak.’

Protima stood, chilled by what she
had heard. The conspiracy behind the spread of the infection was one thing. Did
laying waste to large parts of the world through nuclear exchanges also figure
as part of the ‘depopulation’ plan? And if it did, what hope was left at all
for anyone?

***

Protima walked into the complex.
People wandered around as if dazed. There were a few foreign diplomats, several
people who had gathered for a book discussion and many members who had come
with their families for lunch. Now they were trapped in a city that was fast
becoming a slaughterhouse. Some people huddled around a TV in the library. The
news was on, and the anchor was facing the camera and reading from a prepared
script. All pretense of normality had been discarded – her clothes were
crumpled, she wore no makeup, and the dark circles under her eyes were obvious.
As someone off-camera prompted her, she began reading.

‘The infection is continuing to
spread, and many cities are now totally cut off from all communication with the
outside world. After the nuclear strike on Tel Aviv and retaliatory strikes on
Tehran, the Middle East is in the grip of an all-out war. The Chinese
government has for the first time publicly accused the United States of being
behind this crisis by using illegal biological agents, a charge the US has
denied. Tensions in the waters of Taiwan are high after two Chinese planes were
shot down after approaching a US carrier. Closer to home…’

The woman paused and looked up at
the camera, her eyes betraying just how horrified she was at the news she had
been handed.

‘Closer to home, rogue elements in
the Pakistani military took advantage of the chaos to launch tactical nuclear
weapons at two forward operating bases of the Indian Army. The Prime Minister
has condemned the action and said that India will react with appropriate
measures.’

Protima sat down against the wall,
and while close to a hundred people were packed into the library, not a single
word was said. What was there to say? Every single one of them was thinking the
same thing Protima was – there was no longer any hope. It was only a matter of
time before either the Biters got them or the unfolding nuclear madness claimed
them.

Someone got up to turn off the TV,
but several others pleaded with him to keep it on. A compromise was reached,
and while the TV was kept on, it was put on mute. Protima kept staring at the
screen, hypnotized. The worst nightmares of the human race were coming true,
with visuals of nuclear mushroom clouds interspersed with the now-familiar
images of marauding packs of Biters ravaging entire cities.