Jamie put the SUV into reverse and we began slowly backing away from the approaching infected. I filmed them as they tried to keep up, picking up speed to almost a slow jog, faster than we had all seen in previous newscasts. Perhaps the virus strain was mutating. Maybe it knew that it was burning out so it was giving its current hosts a boost of adrenaline speed. Jamie backed up into half a three point turn, stopped and applied the handbrake. I filmed her and the zombies through her window jogging up the road towards us. “Let’s try something,” she said. She leaned back behind her seat and began fishing around in the weapons in the backpack. She pulled out one of the flash bang grenades and grinned at me and the imagined future audience viewing the footage that I was currently filming.
However, I was feeling rather sensitive to the Berjalan penyakit’s plight. Maybe I was being more sensitive because I was getting closer to my menses, but all I wanted to just leave them alone and get a safe distance away.
“Set the camera on the dash towards them, duck down, close your eyes and cover your ears,” she ordered as she pulled the pin.
I quickly complied.
She opened her door a crack and threw the flash bang grenade towards the zombies and we ducked down on onto the floor.
I could hear the grenade rolling along the pavement towards the approaching infected.
Bang!
The SUV rocked with the impact and my ears began to ring.
I glanced over at Jamie, who had her fingers in her ears, eyes squinting closed and a huge silly grin of mischief plastered on her face.
We sat up and looked down the road.
Where there was once a group of zombies shuffling towards us, there was now a pile of goopy arms, legs and heads in a gelatinous mess of green slime and torn clothes. About four or five of the infected were sluggishly running back towards the abandoned cars and lorries and scrapping at their ears, confused and maybe terrified, as if that part of their brain where primal fear was located hadn’t been completely burned away by fever.
A quick count of the heads and limbs and I guessed that Jamie had just killed at least forty infected with what was supposed to be a non-lethal defensive tool. Because of the tautness of the Berjalan penyakit’s skin, the ‘bang’ concussion of the device had torn them to shreds, like insects hitting the windscreen of an oncoming car driving at a high rate of speed. Some of the mortally wounded Berjalan penyakit lying on the ground were still trying to get away from the concussive force, crawling on their belly’s as their green and black intestines dragged behind them.
The horror.
I burst into tears.
For the first time, I felt a disconnect with Jamie as she sat there reviewing the tape and laughing, replaying the explosion again and again, watching body parts, and green and black gore fly into the air. She had a truly evil look of satisfaction on her face. I couldn’t help but wonder if we could continue our relationship if we survived the next forty-eight hours. I didn’t know this person cackling at those ailing folk who were alive only a few minutes earlier and now slaughtered for amusement.
Jamie glanced up from the camera view screen and seeing the open disgust on my face, threw it down on the seat and crossed her arms.
“Oh give me a break, Abi! You’re not siding with Bob in this are you? Respecting the infected, what a bunch of poppy cock! They want to EAT US, Abi, EAT US! You can’t go soft when it comes to your own survival. They’re condemned anyways. What, they have maybe another two or three days left before dying of exposure? If anything what just happened was the most humane thing we could have done!”
I sat there and listened to her justify what I saw as murder. In all the stories and news reports of the IHS outbreak, they never discussed the fact that these wandering infected were semi-conscious people caught in an unfortunate set of circumstances. It was always the sensational side of the contagion, like about zombies walking the earth and the end of days and eradication by the heroic WHO paratroopers. Never about a middle-aged schoolmarm crawling across the pavement towards the cool grass to bleed out from stumps where her legs used to be after your best friend decided to have a little fun.
I cried and cried some more.
We sat there for quite a while with our SUV running for the air-con on the hillside road above the reservoir, facing the glassy surface of the water. A fish jumped just off shore and the ripples dissipated in widening circles.
Jamie offered no comfort. She sat there staring ahead with her arms folded in defiance, feeling she was in the right and perhaps rethinking the nature of our relationship as well, “Well, we need to figure out what to do. We only have twelve hours left before the chopper leaves. They gave us all different routes to get to Kota Tinggi, one of those roads has to be clear. Give me the map, stop boobing and let’s take a look-see.” When I didn’t respond she reached across my lap and snatched the map out of the glove box, making it a point not to touch me in the event I misinterpreted it as a sign of sympathy.
She unfolded the map across the steering wheel, pressing her lips together with her finger.
“We know the E2 expressway is not an option, what with all the barbed wire and gun-toting paratroopers who may not understand our mission. We could backtrack north above the reservoir and then east towards Mersing,” she traced her finger along a route across the map that went to the Malaysian east coast. “It’s quite a distance, but this road south from Mersing to Kota Tinggi looks like a main artery and I’ll be it’s a four-laner. If we try to stick to our assigned route, I’m positive these tiny back roads going south are as jammed as this one here.”
I looked at the map and where she was pointing. She continued, “We’d still have to go through a jumble of smaller roads before hitting Route 11, which heads directly east, then after another diversion north we’d be in Mersing, then, see, it’d be a straight shot on the 3 expressway right to Kota Tinggi.”
I listened to her while she made a plan, but Jamie was the worst at reading distance. I could see that Mersing was at least three hundred kilometers away and then it was another one hundred forty kilometers to Kota Tinggi. Even if we pressed this SUV to its limit of forty kilometers an hour and were blessed with clear roads and didn’t get lost it would take approximately eight hours to reach Mersing then another hour or two to make it to Kota Tinggi, then we’d only have a couple hours to spare to find the signal beacon. Not only that but we’d be extremely lucky to make it to Mersing before running out of petrol. We would be not only risking our place in the reality show, we’d be risking our lives if we got stranded in the middle of the infected zone off our appointed route and after dusk.
But if we wanted to get to the signal beacon in time, I couldn’t see a better option.
I explained to Jamie what I was thinking and said, “We’ll need to get petrol in Mersing, if we’re going to do this, you’ll have to drive like you’ve never driven before. There’s no time to waste.”
Instead of answering, probably still fuming at how I reacted to what she thought was a comical and fun scene filmed for the world audience, she fired up the SUV and jammed on the gas and we roared away from the carnage we caused along the hillside and towards the northern tip of the reservoir. I crossed my fingers and hid them under my legs for luck as the road curved towards the north east.
We decided that since we were straying from our designated route the camera would stay off for the time being. It was better to lose some potential TV time than to be disqualified indiscriminately. Although it wasn’t as if we had a choice. I kept the map open on my lap and redid my distance calculations with a more exacting eye. If we had stayed on our assigned route and it remained clear, we would have made it to Kota Tinggi in approximately seven hours. As it stood now, so long as Jamie kept the SUV at maximum speed we’d make it down to our final destination just after midnight.
Sheldon had told us that the first team that made it to the evacuation point needed to turn on the signal for the helicopter that was planning to make the pick up at two o’clock under the cover of night. Even with a couple hours leeway, it felt as if we had a razor thin margin and that wasn’t even taking into account our petrol situation. The fuel gauge now pointed to just above half a tank. I took out a small pencil out of the glove box and made use of my only honors grade in mathematics. When I was done I let out a long breath and told Jamie my findings.
“According to my calculations, at this rate of fuel consumption we’ll make it to Mersing with just under a liter or two to spare. I remember visiting Mersing for my cousin’s wedding when I was fourteen and we stopped at a petrol station just to the south of the small fishing town. These places never change. There’s a roundabout and it’s just a few meters beyond a large Malaysian restaurant.”
Jamie nodded silently, keeping her attention on the road. The large tractor tires made a high pitched whiney sound on the black top. They weren’t meant for these speeds. I imagined what a blow-out would look like with those giant axels and tires. The center of gravity was way high. We’d skid about for a second or two as Jamie tried to gain control and then we’d flip for sure, probably rolling a few times before catching on fire from all the sloppy modifications to the fuel system and dying an excruciating death in a fiery explosion. I put on my seat belt and Jamie, perhaps sensing what I was thinking, did the same.
The winding road towards Country Road 1 was unexpectedly deserted of cars and wandering zombies, I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax a bit. We’ll make it, we’ll make it.
It didn’t even occur to me how we’d get petrol if Mersing was under siege from Berjalan penyakit and there was no electricity to work the pumps.
An hour went by and then another. I suggested to Jamie that I could relieve her for a while and let her take a break, but she just laughed under her breath and stared at the road ahead. Finally, the road merged into Country Road 1. She seemed to relax, took one hand off the wheel and gave me a wink.
The SUV began to cough and lurch a bit as the tank ran empty and the auxiliary pump welded to the side of the petrol tank behind our seats began to siphon fuel in a hose under our seats, bypassing the stock fuel system, directly into the injectors. It was a tense few minutes as the SUV adjusted to the new and untested system. The hum of the engine changed a bit and we even gained a few horsepower, which was good news considering the mechanics never had a chance to adjust the mixture.
However, when I did my calculations earlier I was basing fuel consumption on our distance traveled from the Petronas Towers safe zone and what had been drawn from the SUV’s stock fuel tank. I hadn’t taken into consideration that perhaps our fuel economy would suffer when the auxiliary system kicked in. And there was no way to measure our current rate of consumption because the mechanics hadn’t thought there would be a need for a fuel gauge on the new tank. I decided to keep my concerns to myself. She had enough on her mind trying to maintain top speed and swerve around the occasional vehicle or Berjalan penyakit staring at us blankly on the road ahead as we approached, no doubt attracted to the whine of the quickly balding tractor tires.
I could feel the tires now giving a bit as Jamie swerved past an infected gentlemen wearing nothing but a sarong and one sandal; his bloated pregnant stomach, his neck and chest were glistening with a gooey substance leaking from his gaping mouth. Jamie felt the slippage and her brow furrowed as she struggled with the natural tendency to play it safe and slow down.
Markers at kilometer intervals counted down towards the end of the country road, 247, 246, 245 ...
With nothing else to do, I went through my calculations again and again as the sun began to set behind us. We’d be fine I thought, we’ll make it to Mersing and maybe even get some chips and snacks at the petrol station. I imagined myself heroically holding back hordes of infected with the shotgun’s bean bags and the cattle prod while Jamie pumped fuel and ran into the station, throwing money down on the counter so we wouldn’t be stealing and running back to the vehicle with armloads of candy bars, crisps and fizzy drinks.
It was a nice fantasy, but that’s not how it happened.
Instead, we ran out of petrol just short of Mersing city limits as the sun sank behind the hills. I could see the bridge up ahead that led to the roundabout in the fading light, picturing the quaint town just beyond and the fuel needed to continue our journey.
“We lost. There was no way we’ll make it to the evacuation now,” I moaned in defeat. I took the weapons from back seat, gave the cattle to Jamie, loaded the shotgun with five bean bag shells, strapped the flash bang grenades to a couple of hooks hanging from Jamie’s belt and we climbed down from the vehicle.
There wasn’t much light but I could make out the shape of buildings ahead in the distance. We could also see more and more corpses littering the roadside leading to the bridge. But there were only a few wandering infected, leading me to speculate that the disease had invaded the small fishing town a couple of days before it hit Kuala Lumpur. But if that had happened, it was contrary to how the disease should have spread. If IHS jumped half a country to this east coast village, then there really was no rhyme or reason to the outbreak’s grasp.
“Freeze! Drop your weapons!” Someone shouted from cover of undergrowth on the side of the road opposite our now defunct Cera SUV.
Jamie made a hooting sound of panic and dropped the cattle prod to the ground, raising her arms into the air. I wasn’t so quick to lose our last form of protection. Sure there was the danger of an attack by infected, but what about an attack from your everyday sociopathic rapist? I cocked the shotgun real loud and said, “Who goes there? Come out with your hands up!”
Jamie glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. I could tell she thought I’d lost my mind.
Two soldiers in camouflaged protective suits similar to ours but with full face masks and oxygen tanks and pointing compact automatic rifles at our heads came out of the bush, “You have two seconds to drop that gun or we open fire!” one of them said as they cautiously approached our position.