We rolled up to the entrance and a soldier with an electric thermometer gun zapped our foreheads and then waved us through. The city of Kuala Lumpur wasn’t abandoned after all. Thousands upon thousands of refugees filed in and out of the doors of Suria KLCC, the gargantuan shopping center at the foot of the towers that, in four short days, had become the nexus of city life; the hospital, living quarters, city hall and mess hall of those left behind. I noticed the sheer amount of elderly and infirm in the crowds who’d been left to fend for themselves in the rush and panic of evacuation wandering around and surrounding the wading pool, filling buckets, tins and bottles with the rapidly diminishing supply of chlorinated water.
The escorts had jumped off the roofs of our SUVs and were walking ahead of our vehicles, continually looking up at the towers, consulting on positioning and where to park to get full advantage of the towers in the backdrop of the film. Finally, they ordered us to stop on a small knoll just past the shopping center, angled the SUVs just so and had us get out to snap some stills and footage of us with the towers in the background and the refugees and madness carefully out of frame. We put on our best smiles, smiles that were shell shocked and forced, but smiles all the same.
One of the soldiers on duty approached our party as we finished the photo shoot and invited us to sit for a meal. Word had spread fast through the regiment that we were actually filming a TV show in the middle of an outbreak. So like sideshow freaks we were gawked at and pointed at as we made our way down the small knoll across the lush landscape around the wading pool and into the front doors of the shopping center.
The first thing I noticed was the wave of cool refreshing air conditioning wafting through the great hall of the shopping mall’s first floor and the overhead fluorescents blazing above our heads. The soldier accompanying our party saw our surprised looks and explained that deep underneath the Petronas Towers and shopping center there was a back-up power plant that kicked in when the power grid overloaded two days ago and has been running ever since with little supervision. Once my eyes were adjusted to the indoor lighting, I was again a bit taken aback by the cleanliness and organization of the soldiers and refugees. It looked as if everyone had been assigned a role. Some of the refugees were sweeping, others were cleaning the windows, yet others were on rubbish detail. We were ushered into the shopping center’s main food court and we took our seats near an Indian food stall. The food court was about two-thirds full and everyone was eating as if it were any other normal day. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t have known there was a plague just outside those doors. There were four food stalls open, a Malay, Chinese, Indian and, curiously, Western. The only thing out of the norm was people carrying in buckets of water from the wading pool outside. Running water was the main problem right now, the soldier explained, but they were managing and should have enough water from the outer pools to last at least another week when the virus should have burned out and clean up of the infected corpses would begin.
“So you all actually have a plan?” Derrik asked the soldier.
“Of course,” the soldier replied, “There’s a three point plan currently in play: First, evacuate the main populace. Second, hole up and wait for burn out. Third, clean up and disposal of infected corpses. See the virus needs a host. Once the hosts have died of starvation, dehydration or exposure it’s just a matter rounding up the bodies for incineration, then we can lift the quarantine order and repopulate the city and, just like that, right back to normal. Why be afraid of Berjalan penyakit if it can be managed and casualties minimized? At the most we’ve lost a quarter million citizens to the disease out of seven million.” He paused for a minute, lowered his voice and continued, “It’s never going away you know. It’s god’s punishment for our immorality and pride. Can’t you see it spreading across Asia slowly like the hand of god? Soon it will be in your hometown, my friend. I hope your family is prepared both for evacuation and for salvation if they succumb to the disease.”
“But where are your protective suits?” Jamie leaned in, interrupting the sermon, “aren’t you afraid of infection? WHO says IHS has gone airborne, you know.”
“What a bunch of hooey,” the soldier replied, “Not one of my colleagues have been given a suit and only one of us has been infected and that was from kissing his wife on her death bed before she turned. No, all you need is to keep your distance from the infected and stay away from anything that looks like green sticky goo.
Now, go ahead and get some chow. The menu’s are limited but thankfully there are two grocery stores in the basement that are keeping this place stocked for the time being and we haven’t even tapped the fast food restaurants yet. It’s all free, of course, and canned and bottled beverages are over there. Bottled water is in short supply, but the double boiled wading pool water isn’t so bad,” he finished with a smile.
We stood up and took our places in line at the food stalls. It was telling how we drifted to towards the stalls with our ethnic foods. Jamie and I went for the Malay stall, choosing the simple, yet filling ayam goreng kunyit. Derrik and Lydia, as Singaporean as could be, ordered fish ball noodles. Norris and Quaid came up with an English breakfast complete with fried tomato and baked beans in the company of halal-style turkey sausage and turkey ham. It was as if we were eating our last meal and drifted towards the comfort foods of our childhood.
We sat down and Norris was nice enough to pick up cans of sugar cane and water chestnut juice for us all. Our escorts stayed a few tables distant, conferring with each other over maps of Kuala Lumpur, trying to keep an impersonal aloofness as they considered our presence and purpose in Malaysian as improper and inconsiderate to the dead and dying and just plain crazy.
“So, what do you plan to spend the prize money on if you win, Derrik?” Quaid asked while mopping up the runny yolk of his eggs with a triangle of toast.
Derrik cleared his throat. He hadn’t expected any conversation with the other teams considering they’d been all but ignoring each other as the competition became more and more intense.
But before he could speak, Lydia said, “We’re going in as business partners and we’re going to open a bar in Boat Quay, for locals only,” implying that nosy Ang Mohs who ask questions that were none of their business wouldn’t be welcome.
Trying to be friendly, Jamie leaned over to Norris and said, “If we win, Abigail and I are going to use some of the money as a down payment for a condo in Holland Village and then use the rest to supplement our incomes until it runs out. Hopefully, it will last until we can start to draw from our CPF accounts when we hit retirement age. How about you, boys? Are you planning to take the money and run back to your home countries without giving back to Singapore?” She asked coyly, knowing this would rile up Lydia and Derrik who dogmatically believed all foreigners were pillagers out to drain Singapore dry and take, take, take. Hearing Jamie talk about our plans filled my heart with warmth and I felt joy and a renewed sense of purpose.
Quaid proved them right, “Of course, I’ll be going back to London as soon as I get the cash. The missus and I are planning on having another child and we want to do it back home. We’re going to give up our Permanent Residency status, withdraw our money from our CPF accounts and be done with this stifling hot region. Besides, I have a flat back in London with a mortgage that I could pay off and live happily ever after playing football with my mates while my wife chases after her banking career.”
“Sweet,” Norris said and gave him a fist bump across the table, “My plans are about the same. Do you think I’ll ever work again if I have half a million in the bank? That’s over seven hundred thousand dollars in greenbacks! No way would I stay in Singapore, where I can’t even get a moment of peace from people staring at me and bumping into me without so much as an ‘excuse me’. An early retirement in a nice villa on a secluded beach in Costa Rica is where you’ll find me when, not if, Quaid and I take first prize.”
We quieted down after that, the four of us Singaporeans unwilling to joust with him over who will win.
So we all had big dreams. No one mentioned the hundred thousand guaranteed prize if we made it to the signal beacon on time. I guess the consolidation prize wasn’t so consoling. In fact, it barely motivated Jamie and me, who each made less than twenty thousand in income the last two years.
There was no more talk among the team members and we finished our meals.
Our escorts got up from their table and took each team to separate corners of the eatery for privacy. Apparently, they decided against having us choose our maps in a game of chance. Our particular escort sat down opposite Jamie and me and unfolded two maps in front of us, one of the Greater Klang Valley and the other a map of the Malaysian Peninsula with, what I assumed, was a route drawn with purple marker that we were supposed to take to our final destination. Have you seen a varicose vein? How it presses up against the flesh, all squiggly like, with seemingly no rhyme or reason to is path? My grandmother had some real big ones on the sides of her calves and behind her knees from years of heavy physical labor back when Singapore was developing and the cement buildings were rising from the ground. One particular vein grew out of the back of her left thigh and snaked down her leg, sometimes rising up a few inches, turning one way then the other, then continuing on its journey down to meet the cluster of veins above her ankle. That’s what the route looked like on the map, my grandmother’s varicose vein.
“You seriously don’t expect us to make it clear down there,” Jamie pointed to the end of the line, a city called Kota Tinggi north east of Johor Bahru, “in the time we have left. That’s like a five hour journey on the E2 and in normal, less zombie-like conditions. You really expect us, the two of us to navigate down those back roads alone with nothing but this map? That’s a ten hour drive at least! You have to be friggin kidding me!”
Our escort was neither sympathetic nor verbose in his response, “You are to call me, Bob. It’s not my real name, but the one assigned to me. These are the route planned by your producer, Sheldon. I take you to here,” he pointed to the start of the purple line, “you can quit, run and hide for all I care after that. My responsibility lies with getting you out of the city. Period. If you ask me, you two have the easy route. You should see the other team’s maps. They’ll have a razor thin margin of error before their time runs out.”
Across the room, Lydia swept their map onto the floor and started pushing her escort. Two gentlemen quietly munching kaya toast and slurping half-boiled eggs had to interrupt their breakfast and restrain her while Derrik gathered up their maps, apologizing again and again to their escort. I looked across the room to see if I could read Quaid and Norris’s mood at the news of their journey through the back country across the eastern part of the peninsula. They still had their heads down, studying their map and making notes, apparently not too concerned about length or difficulty of the journey ahead.
Jamie looked to me, exasperated and defeated all at once. I wasn’t sure if she was worried about her driving skill across the winding backcountry roads or my ability to navigate and keep us on track.
“It’s ten o’clock. We have fifteen hours to get to the signal beacon,” I tried to get her to think ahead, “we just have to make it there and we’re a hundred thousand dollars richer. If Sheldon is being truthful, we should be back in Singapore soon afterwards and maybe we can sleep in our own beds tonight! Think of it, just one more drive, no racing against the others. We have plenty of time. Slow and steady wins the race.”
“Don’t forget to watch your fuel. You should have more than enough to make it to the beacon. But should you get below a quarter tank, get to a petrol station and fuel up. The last thing you want to do is get stranded in the middle of Berjalan penyakit country. Okay, I’m going to hit the head one last time. I’ll meet you at the SUV in ten.”
Chapter 10
WE stood outside of our vehicle and watched as Quaid tried to start his SUV. It would turn and turn over but wouldn’t fire up. Andy, their escort, popped the hood and proceeded to knock around inside the engine compartment with a wrench and hammer borrowed from the ever-efficient and helpful soldiers standing nearby. Eager to get started and gain a lead over the other two teams, Lydia and Derrik pulled away with Carl sitting atop their SUV, banging signals into the roof; left one bang, right two, stop pound and kick. We watched as they drove through the front gates of the park and out of sight.
“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?” I asked Jamie who answered by putting an arm around my shoulders and giving me an encouraging squeeze.
It had been twenty minutes since Bob left for the toilet and he still hadn’t returned to the SUV. Norris was goofing around with his camera, filming himself and doing a little semi-factual documentary on the safe-zone surrounding the Petronas Towers. Quaid revved their engine again when Andy signaled and it roared into life. Andy shut their hood, climbed atop the roof and secured himself with a rope he’d tied through the luggage rack and recently hacked out escape hatch. He banged on the roof, raised his rifle above his head and shouted a goodbye to us in Malay as they drove away, “Selamat jalan!”
And still we waited for Bob.
After another five minutes he came strolling down the path and said, “Apologies about the tardiness. I wanted the other teams out of here before we left. Change of plans. You two are going to sit in the passenger seat, I’m driving. Look, I’m only doing this for monies promised to me. I’m not about to unnecessarily risk my life for your stupid TV show. I’m not getting paid enough to sit on your roof and expose myself to some little girl’s negligent driving and the off chance of getting eaten by those Berjalan penyakit. I’ll take you to the outskirts of the city as required, then you can take it from there and I’ll get back to the compound. I have two children and a wife safely tucked away in our twenty-second floor apartment. They are relying on me to bring back food and water tonight. Keep your camera turned off and with a little luck we should reach my drop-off point in less than a half hour.”