Villains of the Apocalypse (2 page)

But still, he could not afford any trouble. He needed answers. He did not want to attract any attention from the guards.

“Farid, you have determined your own fate. I will not stand by while we are killed one by one. I have come too far for that. I have been through too much pain and suffering.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your family is dead. If you try and stop me, if you tell the guards, you will join your family in the afterlife.”

“No, you can’t. Please don’t. I will not let you!”

Bashir held the knife up. “Do not make me use this.”

“I just want to see my family. We are so close to being released. Please.”

“Your family is dead. And the doctors will come back for you. They will kill you as well.”

“I am getting the guards. You will not compromise my freedom.”

“You are not free. You are dead.”

Bashir raised the knife. Farid’s eyes widened. He tried to grab onto Bashir’s arms, but he was too weak. It was a useless gesture.

Bashir pushed Farid’s arms aside. He was able to pin him down with one hand and slash his throat.

He covered Farid, in a blanket and put the pillow over his head. It wouldn’t hold up under close investigation, but if anyone stuck their head in they would not see the body.

Bashir was about to leave when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“Immigration security. Open up,” a loud voice said through the door. “Farid Ali? Are you in there? We need to take you back into quarantine. It’s only for precautionary measures.”

Bashir paused. “He is gone,” he answered. “Farid is not here.”

Technically not a lie.

But the guards did not believe it. A split second later they smashed in the door. Bashir froze. He thought about taking them on. He could probably get one of the soldiers down. Take his weapon.

But there were at least four soldiers.

Heavily armed.Wearing armor.

“You speak English?” one the guards asked.

Bashir held his hands up. “Yes. A little. I am not a threat. Farid is gone. He left several minutes ago.”

The lead soldier pushed Bashir out of the way. He looked at the bed and saw the blood. He pulled back the blanket and saw the corpse of Farid. “Holy shit.”

Bashir knew it was now or never. He stepped forward and drove his elbow up into the soldier’s face, knocking him unconscious.

Before the solider fell to the floor, Bashir removed his sidearm from his holster. He turned and faced the three other guards.

But that was as far as he got.

He was shot with a taser gun. His muscles tensed up as fifty thousand volts of electricity shot through his body. He hit the ground, spasming out of control.

A soldier stood over him and knocked him out with the butt of his rifle.

The last thing Bashir remembered thinking before he lost consciousness was that he was looking for answers. He had a feeling he would have them very soon.

CHAPTER 3

Doctor Hunter stood in the mobile testing facility. In front of him were four dead bodies. There was supposed to be five.

Next to Hunter was one of his colleagues, a young research scientist by the name of John Nielson.

“Where is the eldest son?” Hunter asked, checking his notes. “Where is Farid Ali?”

“He was discharged,” John answered.

“Why?”

“He responded well to the new anti-virus. His vitals all improved. I thought that...”

“You thought what?”

“That’s the protocol. If they improve, if they’re healthy, they are released.”

“How long did you monitor his symptoms for?”

“Seventy-two hours.”

“And there was no decline?”

“No. There was nothing. He was stable.”

“But none of his family survived?”

“No. They all died within the hour.”

“And you didn’t find it suspicious that Farid was the only one who did not die?”

“We monitored him for three days. There was no change.”

“I don’t think you understand what we are dealing with here. This virus, it adapts. It changes. And it changes quickly. Faster than anything we have ever seen. Influenza will change on a yearly basis. But this thing changes every day, every week.”

“But the new anti-virus…”

“The new anti-virus isn’t working. Nothing is working anymore.”

“What? Impossible. If the new anti-virus is no longer working than what the hell are we doing here?”

“We are creating history.”

“But the test subjects are declining. They are dying. I mean, how many?”

“All of them.”

John swallowed hard. His hands began to shake. “So what now?”

“Now we conduct an autopsy. I want to know everything.”

Doctor Hunter’s phone rang. “What? They found him?” Hunter swore under his breath. “Seal off that room. No one gets in until I get there.”

He hung up.

“What is it?”

“They found Farid. He had his neck slashed. Murder.”

“By who?”

“Not sure. But I am going to find out. Close this facility. I want you at Outpost Six. You are going to perform an autopsy on Farid Ali. I want to know how he survived for so long. And I want you to examine the killer. Find out if the virus was transferred to him. Apparently there was a lot of blood at the scene.”

“What are you going to do?” John asked.

“I’m going to make sure Farid’s room is not contaminated.”

CHAPTER 4

OUTPOST SIX
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

Bashir woke up in an unfamiliar room. He was on his back. He was on a bed. Bright fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling.

Bashir noticed other beds in the room. At least a dozen. The other beds were sectioned off with plastic sheets. On each of the sheets was a large, black bio-hazard symbol.

Bashir was groggy. His head throbbed. He sat up and tried to get his bearings. His hands were handcuffed behind his back.

Someone walked into the room through a pressurized door. He was wearing a HAZMAT suit.

“Awake are we?” the man asked. “How are you feeling?”

The man’s nametag read: John Nielson. Clinical Research Specialist.

He walked over and before Bashir could react, before he could do anything, the man jabbed him in the thigh with a needle and pushed down on the plunger. Bashir felt something warm rush up his leg and his whole body.

A few minutes later he felt feverish. His joints ached. His whole body ached.

Another person entered the room. He was also wearing a HAZMAT suit.

His nametag simply said that he was a translator. His name was Frank.

“Subject’s name?” Frank asked John.

“Not sure. He was arrested in the Woomera Immigration Center. They sent him here.”

“Arrested? For what?”

“Murder.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah.Pretty crazy.”

“So we don’t even know his name?”

“Nope.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“I don’t think so. He’s handcuffed. He can’t do anything.”

Bashir spoke to the translator in Persian. “Leave.”

John stopped writing notes on his clipboard. “What did he say?”

“Excuse me?” Frank asked.

“Leave or die,” Bashir answered.

The translator tensed up. He spoke to the doctor in English. Bashir could understand everything. It was amazing the things people would say in front of you when they thought you did not speak their language.

“John, he is threatening violence. We need to restrain him. We need security in here, right now.”

“What for? He’s handcuffed. We’re in the middle of nowhere. He can’t do anything.”

“Still, I think it would be best if we had security in here.”

The doctor lowered his voice. “There is no security. There’s no one else here. We’ve been running with a skeleton crew for months now.”

Bashir noticed the bed he was sitting on had wheels. The wheels were not locked.

Now was his chance while these two idiots were arguing about security and the lack thereof.

He rolled off the bed backwards and pushed all his weight against it, driving the bed into the translator and the doctor.

He had knocked the doctor out. The translator was on his back, he was struggling to get up. He scrambled and crawled his way towards the far wall, trying to get to an alarm.

Bashir jumped to his feet, charged for the translator, tripped him over, knocking him down again.

With his hands tied behind his back, Bashir wrapped his legs around the throat of the translator and snapped his neck.

He made his way over to the doctor and found the keys for the handcuffs. He slipped his hands over his legs and unlocked the cuffs. Bashir then placed them on the doctor and sat him down in a chair.

Bashir unzipped the doctor’s hazmat suit and removed the helmet and face mask. Bashir slapped him hard in the face. “Wake up.”

The doctor blinked his eyes open. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what had happened. When he saw the translator slumped on the floor in a heap he lunged for the alarm on the wall.

Bashir grabbed him, pulled him to the floor and placed his knee on the doctor’s neck.

“Do not struggle or I will snap you in half.”

“You… you speak English?” he choked out. “Who are you? What are you doing?”

“I want answers.”

“You want answers? I’ve been exposed. I’m a dead man!”

“What did you give us?” Bashir asked. “What did you inject me with?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Bashir produced a syringe. He jabbed it into his bicep and drew blood. “You will talk or I will pump you full of my own blood. And then you really will be exposed.”

“No. Please!”

“What did you give us? Are those people dying?”

“Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means yes. It means we don’t know. It means we have never seen anything like this.”

“You are not making sense,” he said as he held the syringe in front of the doctor’s face. “You will help me or you will die.”

“You don’t get it do you? I’m already dead. They’ll kill me for this. And you’re as good as dead too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the people in charge. They don’t tolerate failure. They gave the green light to test on people for crying out loud.”

“What are they testing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a virus. A weapon.”

“What?”

“Bio-weapons of mass destruction.”

“They want to use a virus as a weapon?”

“Yeah. They want to use it to infect entire enemy populations. Terrorist networks. Whoever they want. You feel it now, don’t you? The fever. It comes on quick. Your body will try and fight it. But it’s useless. Soon enough, your immune system will be overwhelmed. Soon you will die. It’s only a matter of time.”

“There has got to be an anti-virus. Give it to me.”

“There is no anti-virus. Not anymore. At least not at this facility. It stopped working months ago.”

“Do not lie to me.”

“This is just an outpost. We keep it separate to limit containment failures like this.”

“No. There has got to be an anti-virus somewhere.”

“There probably is. But I don’t have access to it.”

“Who does?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

Bashir held onto the syringe like a knife. “I will pump you full of my blood.”

“Do it. I’ve watched so many of you people die. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like.”

“Tell me,” Bashir repeated. “Who has the anti-virus?”

“If anyone has it, it’s Doctor Hunter.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s on his way.”

“Good.”

“No. Not good. He’s a goddamn butcher. You’ll be sorry. He’s a crazy son of a bitch. He thinks he’ll be a hero for doing all this. This, killing. This, mass murder. Trust me; you do not want to meet him. You should pray to God that you die before he gets here.”

“I no longer believe in God.”

Bashir drove the syringe into the doctor’s chest. He pushed down on the plunger, pumping him full of a virus that was designed to be used as a weapon of mass destruction.

CHAPTER 5

Doctor Hunter had arrived at Outpost Six. He was trying to contain his anger. His research assistant, John had quarantined himself.

“It’s bad,” John said through a plastic sheet with black bio-hazard symbol on it. “Something bad. We didn’t know. He was too fast. He was like a Special Forces soldier or something.”

“Slow down,” Doctor Hunter said. “What happened?”

“One of the test subjects, the guy who murdered Farid. He attacked us. He was too quick. He killed Frank for crying out loud. Broke his goddamn neck.”

“Had the subject been administered the virus?”

“Yes.”

Hunter kicked a nearby chair. This was the last thing they needed. “Who knows about this?”

“No one. We’ve been operating with a skeleton crew for months now.”

“Did you call Doctor West?”

“No. Last I heard he was in Sydney meeting with investors.”

“Where is the patient?”

“He’s gone. He ran off.”

Hunter knew he had run off into the desert. It was a stupid and desperate thing to do. But people were capable of stupid and desperate things when they were faced with certain death. Fortunately, this person was already dead. The virus would’ve killed him within the hour. Probably sooner.

“There’s something else,” John said. “He injected me with his own blood. He infected me. I’ve given myself a double dose of the new anti-virus. But I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work? I mean, it hasn’t been effective since…”

“Do not worry, John. We have been manufacturing an extra-strong version of the anti-virus. You will be fine.”

“I’ve been here all night. I’m too scared to leave. What do we do about the patient?”

“I will deal with him later. Remember, we will be looking for a corpse. Provided the wild dogs haven’t gotten to him first.”

“Thanks, Michael. This means a lot to me. I’m so damn scared. I can’t believe what happened. I can’t believe Frank is dead. What do we tell his family?”

“Do not worry. I will deal with this. It will all be over very soon.”