Zombie Fever: Outbreak

ZOMBIE FEVER 2

Outbreak

by

B.M. Hodges

Copyright 2012 B.M. Hodges

Cover Image: (c) chrisharvey /
www.fotosearch.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Disclaimer: You may experience disorientation at the spelling in this novel during certain scenes. Please be assured that the spelling is not in error. In order to retain the authenticity of the South Eastern Asia region, this novel occasionally uses other English styles including British, Singaporean and Malaysian English. For example, ‘taxi’ is ‘teksi’ in the Malay form, ‘already’ is ‘oledy’ in the Singaporean form and ‘tire’ is ‘tyre’ in the British vernacular. Do not be alarmed by this global English free-hand. Just read along and you’re sure to get the gist of it.

Table of Contents

Prologue
              5

Part I
              13

Chapter 1
              14

Chapter 2
              25

Chapter 3
              38

Chapter 4
              53

Chapter 5
              70

Chapter 6
              93

Chapter 7
              114

Part II
              127

Chapter 8
              128

Chapter 9
              147

Chapter 10
              166

Chapter 11
              181

Chapter 12
              200

Chapter 13
              217

Prologue

IMAGINE grainy, shaky handheld footage of crowds running frantically down dim-lit streets. See the bloated carcasses lying in pools of green-tainted blood and guts with their crushed skulls and random bullet holes. Cut to hospitals overflowing with feverish patients strapped to gurneys, chairs, to each other. Can you sense the fear and panic of family members holding onto their loved ones as they struggle against their restraints, biting at the air towards healthy flesh, eyes unfocused and bloodshot as they seek to spread the virus? Listen. Can you hear the gunshots and screams resounding in the night?

This is zombie fever and the reality of the contagion isn’t pretty.

I know as I’ve seen the contagion first hand.

I’ve witnessed the devastation and carnage the disease wrecks on innocent people.

Now ask yourself if you’re the type of person who devours these sights and sounds brought to you by so-called journalists in flimsy hazmat suits with their sensational tabloid stories of the walking dead. Are you one of the millions who gets voyeuristic chills from viewing those poor lost souls shuffling around in the streets consumed by a primordial cellular hunger, destined for a death from starvation, dehydration, exposure or a bullet in the brain? Have you bought any of the merchandise? Watched the blockbuster film? Did you play the video game?

Like most people, you probably answered ‘yes’ to most of these questions.

Heck, not long ago I was just like you.

I was even a willing accomplice in the exploitation of the disease and its tragic sufferers. In fact, I was one of the participants in that reality TV show that you may have watched right before the global outbreak that originated in Singapore and spread across Indonesia, Australia, then Europe, Russia and North America. You know the show I’m talking about, the one where they sent pairs of contestants in Cera cars to compete in events, racing through Malaysia during the height of the zombie outbreak. Even if you didn’t catch it, I’m confident you know what I’m talking about. It was an international phenomenon, very popular, and the precursor to the outbreak of zombie fever that spread throughout much of the world.

Although if you are one of the millions who saw and believed the events that occurred during the simulcast of the final day of the Cera’s Amazing Rally Showdown, I’m here to tell you that what you witnessed was carefully and artfully manipulated to show a sequence of events and outcome that were, well, not entirely true.

Maybe I shouldn’t wreck your perception of those days’ events, but you need to know the facts. Believe me, I’ve contemplated keeping silent. After all, we’ve been practically blamed for the beginning of what some would say was the end of humanity. And who am I to try to change public opinion?

But I need to tell my story because I feel compelled to try to convince you, the world, that it was the show’s production team that was to blame for the virus escaping the quarantine zone and not, as the media have portrayed, the honest and dare I say naïve contestants who were merely vying for a million dollar potentially life-changing prize.

So with your permission, I’d like to recount that week of filming as clearly as I possibly can down to every detail that I can think of. And I’ll try to keep conjecture to a minimum and just try to tell you as factually as possible about the events that Jamie and I participated in throughout the Malaysian Peninsula and back in Singapore for the grand finale.

However, before I begin, please bear with me for a moment so that I can give some background details about IHS, i.e., zombie fever, for those people who’ve been living under a rock or who simply go out of their way to ignore mainstream media.

As you well know, IHS is a viral infection that turns people into zombies.

Well, not zombies per se.

Unlike the zombies you see in the movies or read about in books, real life victims of IHS aren’t actually dead. We’ve all heard countless times from the experts parading around espousing their clinical diagnosis of the zombie plight. They say that the infected are survivors of a virus that begins with a raging fever, which destroys most of the brain’s cerebral cortex. Meanwhile, the infection floods the extremities with a greenish viral soup of contagion causing a grotesque swelling the infected’s limbs, their taut skin reminiscent of overstuffed sausages. The virus then seizes control of the host and sends a never-ending loop of instruction, something along the lines of, ‘Seek out humans. Hungry, Hungry, Feed!’ Once the smoldering fever cools, the bloated near catatonic shell of the former person rises with a new lease on life. An existence, however, that is now restricted to a never-ending appetite for living human flesh.

Like SARS and H1N1, we’ve been told that IHS originated in animals but instead of pigs and birds, this time the critter culprits are tropical ground squirrels. Those experts say the virus jumped from squirrels to humans in rural Asia where tastes are more exotic and where it’s quite common to clobber those adorable creatures over their cute little heads and, after careful preparation, mix a little of its meat with rice or noodles depending on your preference.

I remember when I first heard about the first documented IHS outbreak. I was sitting around one evening with a group of friends at a nearby bubble tea café and having a great time chatting about math homework and netball. Out of the blue, the café owner rudely interrupted a rather handsome athletic young man singing karaoke to a Canto pop video. The jerk switched the feed streaming on the big screen that made up the rear wall of the café from the karaoke station to international news, leaving the hunky crooner hanging in the middle of the chorus. Then the café owner cranked up the volume, forcing us to listen to an English speaking reporter in the middle of announcing that something terrible had happened in the Guangdong province of China.

Flashing on the screen, the caption read, “ZOMBIE ATTACK!” just like that, in all caps.

The broadcaster was in the middle of his report but the gist of the story was that after a meeting of the brethren, clan members from a secret society in Guangzhou discovered that one of their own had collapsed on the floor in the rear of their clandestine conference room. At the time he was uncommunicative and had a dangerously high fever. The clansmen rushed him to the most experienced practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine in the Panyu district. The acupuncturist and his hunchbacked female assistant attended to the new patient while three helpful clansmen held their colleagues thrashing limbs against the steel doctor’s table. Utilizing his expertise, the medicinal practitioner inserted a long, thin needle into a pressure point in the ailing gentleman’s thigh just above the knee intending to lower the man’s heatiness. As if under a great deal of internal pressure, a gushing fountain-like expulsion of fluid erupted from the small hole, expelling a putrid smelling greenish-yellow puss into the air and infecting all in the room save for the surgical mask wearing doctor who had erroneously inserted the needle into the taunt and swollen leg in the first place.

Within twenty-four hours, those three clansmen and the hunchbacked female assistant passed the contagion on to their close family members. Within a couple of days, it was estimated that there were over thirty-two thousand infected wandering around the Panyu district of Guangzhou, scaring residents and tourists alike with their herky-jerky shuffling advances and monotone moans of hunger.

Fearing that the contagion may spread, the Chinese military ordered the carpet bombing of the entire area, effectively eliminating the spread of the contagion along with, unfortunately, about a quarter million of their citizens who were unlucky enough to be in the hot zone.

We listened politely to the news report and then the café owner switched the screen back to the karaoke feed and we went back to our inane conversations. That may surprise you, but our response to the news wasn’t unusual in Singapore. Most Singaporeans responded in a similar unconcerned manner to the zombie outbreak, considering the news was about China and so far away from our daily affairs.

As for the rest of the world, instead of the global panic you’d expect, the response to the new disease was more akin to a morbid fascination with the footage and news stories. Maybe it was the overblown hysteria brought about by the nerfed pandemics of SARS and H1N1 that caused a kind of pandemic apathy. Then add to that the last few decades of terrorism, war, torture, economic upheaval and severe natural disasters brought about by global warming. Who knows? But instead of the alarm you’d expect, people across the globe accepted this new reality with curiosity and awe. Cable ratings of shows covering the contagion’s advance across Asia were off the charts. Internet networks crashed from millions of hits each time a new clip of some unfortunate wandering bloated soul was uploaded onto the web.

“Zombies?”

“
You serious?”