Zombie Fever: Outbreak (19 page)

We were all so naïve, so stupid, believing the reports that the zombies were basically harmless and easy to avoid. We should never have signed those contracts and allowed Sheldon to manipulate us into territory that was being consumed by something real, something alien and viral.

Maybe Meng and Esther were the lucky ones after all.

Together, Jamie and I secured the dead bolt and double checked the locks on the windows of our room, devoured the trays of tasteless food, put on our pajamas and fell asleep, holding each other under the expensive high thread count sheets in the luxurious four poster bed.

Part II

An Obfuscatory Zombie Infestation

Chapter 8

It was still dark outside when I awoke to the sound of a siren blaring out of the intercom beside the door.

There wasn’t a clock nearby, but I guessed it was around three in the morning.

I could see Jamie’s silhouette standing beside the bed staring out the window into darkness. She turned towards the bed slightly. From the telltale blue glow in her hand, it was obvious she was holding her handphone and it was also obvious from her fidgeting and the distressed look on her face reflected in that blue glow that she couldn’t get a signal.

A smell of acrid smoke was coming from the open slats above the window that were meant to for the sea breeze.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice thick and froggy.

Jamie turned from window and came toward me.

“I don’t know, but I think I heard gunfire out there somewhere and definitely people screaming. It looks as if there are a few buildings on fire up the road too. And I can see a crowd of people standing down there on the road under that street lamp,” she pointed down at the road. “It’s weird behavior. They’ve been standing there for a while, like they're waiting for something.”

We could hear someone in the hallway knocking on a door down the hall. Then there was the sound of muffled voices.

I crept out of bed and opened the door slightly, making sure the security chain was securely latched. It was Suriana and one of the crew members carrying a large plastic container. She came to our door and said with urgency, “Port Dickson has been overrun by Berjalan penyakit and paratroopers have been landing along the outskirts of town. The authorities in town are saying the IHS virus is spreading faster than anticipated. It may be airborne, they’re not sure. Negeri Semilan is being demarcated as the buffer between the virus and the safe zone. They want a total evacuation. Paratroopers have orders to exterminate any non-WHO member caught north of the line after sunrise. They’re planning to sweep the entire area clear of the living and seal off the border to Malacca state soon. We need to head south now. Anyone left in the zone after dawn will be slaughtered along with the rest of the infected.”

She reached into the plastic container and gave us two packages, “Take these bio-suits. I called in a favor from a local politician who occasionally frequents this establishment. They’re not like the crap hazmat suits I’ve seen you using. These are military grade and have been thickened to protect from bites. Put them on and hurry to the Sultan suite on the top floor for further instructions from your fearless leader. God help us.”

She moved on down the hall to the next suite where Quaid and Norris were staying and began the same speech again.

We unwrapped the suits and pulled them on over our pajamas.

Suriana was right, compared to these new protective suits, the ones provided to us for the reality show were mere costumes. The person Suriana contacted for these suits must have been able to throw around a lot of international muscle to acquire the latest in IHS protection. Someone out there had designed these with unlimited funding. The mustard yellow suits were made of a thick rubber that had the feel of transmuted leather. And they were designed with the tropical climate in mind. Like gills, they had layered ventilation pockets sewn in down the side seam and the black boots and gloves were sealed making it a complete one piece protective package. The suits seemed rather light weight and well ventilated and the boots conformed to your foot with memory foam inside. There was a bladder in the back that held water and a nifty little capped plastic straw that popped out of the neckline. There was a long heavy duty zipper in the front from the crotch to the neck with a locking mechanism on the top that made it easy to put on and keep on in the event Berjalan penyakit were trying to tear at it to get to your fleshy parts.

I suppose there was a presumption that the infected weren’t capable of putting up much of a fight and relatively easy to keep them away from your exposed head as the suit’s designers seemed to be more concerned about preventing an infected’s bodily fluids from getting in the eyes, mouth or nose than covering for the head and neck. These suits only came with eye shields and simple disposable masks that cupped over your mouth and nose and secured by a rubber band. There was a hoody, presumably to protect your neck and ears from bites if you were in a zombie melee, but that was conveniently tucked away in a little Velcro pouch along the neckline but had a quick pull cord that made it trouble-free to pull-over your head in the event you were up front and personal with a zombie and needed the extra protection. On the front and back was that kick ass symbol of the WHO paratroopers.

After admiring ourselves in the mirror one last time, we left our rooms without packing up figuring we’d have time to get our stuff after the debriefing upstairs. We were joined by the three other teams and Suriana at the lift. We ascended to Sheldon’s suite.

The lift door opened and we stepped into a Sultan’s palace. Nearly the entire floor was taken up with one humongous and gaudy great room. Gold leaf décor and purple and chocolate satin curtains covered the walls and ceiling. There was a long rectangular lap pool filled with koi in the center of the room and a huge mural of a man in flowing robes charging on a horse with scimitar drawn against the far wall.

On the other side of the koi pool, Sheldon was pacing back and forth in what looked to be an alcove conference area. He was wearing a gold-colored plushy bath robe and matching slippers and was moving across the Italian marble floor erratically, raising his arm wildly in the air as he shouted into a satellite phone, “… not possible. They’re not letting us continue with full … Yes, I know … We have a contingency plan for ... If you’d just let me … I can pull this off, just give me a chance to make it right … Gemma’s gone missing … Yes, we’ve combed the perimeter … sometime after dinner …” Sheldon turned to face us as we approached the long conference table covered in maps and strewn with pages and pages of handwritten notes for the show. He held up a finger for us to keep silent. “They’re here … I’ll let you know if it’s still on … Yes … yes … my head in a suitcase, I know … I’ll convince them … wait, wait! What about ... damn!”

He set down the phone, turned away from us to compose himself. He put on a large showman’s grin and turned back, “Wow! You look fantastic in those uniforms, perfect for our next scene.”

“We all need to get south, sir. I recommend you leave now.” Suriana interrupted.

Sheldon gave her a fierce penetrating look, “Dismissed! Get out! This meeting is confidential. Thank you for your help, Goodbye!” He shooed her back across the great room and into the lift and when the doors shut, he locked the ornate gates in front of the lift that were probably just meant for show, turning a massive highly wrought key.

All of us began chiming in with the same sentiments, talking over one another and making an awful din, which was dampened by the thick drapes and wall hangings. We were convinced Suriana had the right idea. None of us wanted to die at the hands of the zombie horde or the paratroopers, “We’re going back home, right? We can’t stay continue with the show. I quit. We quit. It’s no longer safe. It’s time we think about our safety. We have to follow the WHO’s evacuation order.”

“Screw the evacuation order!” Sheldon shrieked over us, forcing us into silence. “Have you forgotten about why you’re here? A million dollars! That’s life changing money, people! This show ain’t over! Not by a long shot! We still need three shows worth of footage that must be filmed in Malaysia. Didn’t you read your contracts? You have to do what I say! There’s no going back now. If you cut and run, we’ll sue your families for everything they have and make into the next millennia!” He pushed us back down with his own ego, then tried to build us back up, “But don’t worry, I have a plan! And once you hear me out, I guarantee you’ll be back on board, trust me. This is the best news you’ve heard since you signed up for this adventure!

I’ve been on the horn since sundown and I’ve come up with a brilliant way to complete the remainder Malaysian footage and get back to Singapore to film the finale that’s been scheduled for shooting Saturday afternoon. With three teams left, we can’t risk an elimination event until the finale. We need all three of the teams back in Singapore for the final events! This is your chance to become stars without the worry of being taken out of the race.” Sheldon walked front of the conference table and pressed a button, a large white board slid into view from behind a large mural. He began to sketch out his plan in blue marker, but his scribbles were incomprehensible so we stared at the board pretending to understand and listened to his ramblings.

He looked at this watch, “It’s early Friday morning. We have approximately twenty-four hours to make this thing work. My plan is to divide the next twenty-four hours into a two part journey that I’ll then be able to split into three episodes. First, you will be escorted to Kuala Lumpur where we are contractually obligated with the Malaysian Tourism Board to get a shot of the teams in and around the Petronas Towers. Then, you will drive three Cera SUV’s into the heart of zombie territory where you are to seek out the rendezvous point, activate a signal beacon for an awaiting helicopter and be flown safely back to Singapore. I know you are concerned about zombies, but please don’t worry about the Berjalan penyakit! I can see the concern on your faces. You will be as safe as you would be if you were driving on the streets of Singapore. And to guarantee your safety, the SUV’s you will be driving are being modified to handle any zombie contingency as we speak!

And to sweeten the deal and get you all on board with this new turn of events, Tua Kee Media has authorized me to inform you that if all three teams make it to the finale in Singapore, there will be a bonus pay-out of one hundred thousand dollars to second and third place. No one goes hungry. However, this is still a competition so once you are set loose in Kuala Lumpur be aware the team who activates the beacon will get a five minute head start in finale events, which, trust me, is a significant lead and will put them at a distinct advantage.

Let me recap.

All you need to do is get to Kuala Lumpur, take footage near those towers, drive your SUV’s through mostly deserted backcountry and make it to the helicopter evacuation point in one piece by two in the morning.

By hook and by crook, I managed to get the six of you clearance through any checkpoint and passed any security patrol. Show them your passes and keep those WHO paratrooper bio-suits on and you shouldn’t have any problem. You all know about the Berjalan penyakit and their taste for flesh. Just keep your distance from them and you’ll be fine.

There are no more clues and there are no more crewmen to hinder your progress. Do you remember those handheld digi-cams you ‘won’ back at A’Famosa? Well it’s time to put them to good use. Each team must film their own progress with those cameras from here on out. The better the footage the more exposure you’ll get on the show.

Don’t forget, you need be at the beacon at two in the morning.”

Sheldon stood there for a moment to let the information sink in.

Then he walked over to the intercom and pressed a button.

Buzz
.

A man entered the room from one of the many hallways branching off the main room. He was Malay and I recognized him from Jamie’s clandestine footage of the Chinatown zombie event she’d filmed back in Malacca. He was the one giving orders to the rest of the secondary crew and we took to be the leader. He was short, pudgy soft in the breadbasket, and a bit bookish looking with round wire glasses. He was wearing the same type of protective suit we had put on earlier. He put his hands up and began looking at us through a square he was making with his fingers, as if we were in imaginary frame.

“Say ‘hello’ to Zahrin. He’s going to take over production of the show for the rest of the Malaysian events. For all intents and purposes he is me, and you will show him the same respect. I’ve been ordered back to Singapore along with the rest of the crew and healthy eliminated contestants. Zahrin will take care of any zombie problems on the way to Kuala Lumpur. Furthermore, you will be provided with non-lethal weapons in the event you encounter any IHS related problems.

Zahrin, you are now in charge. Adios all! Best of Luck! See you in Singapore for the finale.”

I had many questions for Sheldon and I’m sure the rest of the team members did too. However, he didn’t give us a chance to ask, rushing off down one of the halls and disappearing around a corner. But Jamie and I weren’t going to back out now. Hearing about this new agreement took a huge weight off our shoulders. A million dollar prize would change our lives, but so would the hundred thousand. One hundred thousand dollars would nearly give us enough money for a down payment on an aging heartlands condo or split two ways was enough to be jobless, live comfortably with our parents and chase boys for another three to four years. All we had to do was make it to the helicopter within twenty-four hours. It was piece of cake as far as I was concerned.

“Follow me,” Zahrin strode authoritatively to a set of glass doors that slid open automatically as he approached and led us out onto a rooftop patio. Blanketing the roof was a beautiful rose garden featuring a rather rare hybrid of Brigadoon rose, a luscious pink blend with white pedals and a spicy fragrance that thrives in the tropical climate and is used as a tea. In front of the garden there was a large stone altar, presumably for ritual sacrifice. On the altar sat an array of non-lethal weapons and gear carefully laid out in a neat arrangement. One cameraman was on scene to film our reactions.