The Sapporo Outbreak (35 page)

Further into the room, Skinner could see Hill curled up and sobbing hysterically. He saw Tait, who slowly got to his feet and nodded his acknowledgement. To Tait's right, Tanaka was on the floor, Harper's crumpled, unconscious body slumped on top of him.

He looked at Santos. Both of them were speechless. What in the hell had happened here?

Skinner looked more closely at Tanaka. The two men locked eyes and for the first time Skinner could see Tanaka for what he really was.

Skinner stepped forward. They had to help Harper.

Then the lights went out.

#

Tanaka struggled in the dark, twisting and shoving under Harper's unconscious weight. With one last twist, he freed himself and staggered to his feet in the gloom.

Over the chatter, Tait shouted, "Hold on everyone. I think this is just the power system recycling. Power will be back up in a minute."

Skinner held tightly onto Santos' hand, and shouted out "Tanaka. We need to get everyone out of here before more of those infected players appear."

Tanaka gazed around the murky room and toward Skinner's voice. His eyes quickly adjusted to the pale yellow of the emergency lighting. He could make out the shell-shocked technicians as they wandered aimlessly, he could see the outline of the players corpses piled at the shattered door. He could even see his friend's body twisted and lying side by side with those dead animals. He saw the four consultants, each among the most respected in their field, reduced to battered survivors scrambling for their lives. Andy Harper, the security expert Tanaka had used and misled, was now bleeding to death at his feet.

How? How could this possibly have happened? He'd built a perfect experience, something remarkable. An immersive experience that freed the soul. Allowing strangers around the world to meet, breaking down barriers, opening up new ways to connect. A new way to celebrate what made us human.

And yet, there he was. Surrounded by death and the darkest deeds of man.
 

Tanaka took a deep breath. He had to get out and back to Shou. Away from all of this. "I agree Professor. We move out now. I need two men to help Mr Harper and any of the other injured. I will lead the way."

Shadows shuffled through the grey room, quietly, almost respectfully. After Santos had jerryrigged Harper with a saline drip, two men dragged him to his feet while another held the saline bag in the air behind them.
 

Tait bent over and grabbed the arm of Hill. He was completely distraught. Tait led him past the corpses and out into the murky open area, and stopped beside Skinner and Santos. They looked on as technicians silently filed out of the NOC. Tanaka was the last to leave.

The dishevelled, blood-stained, battered and bruised group - among them some of the most brilliant minds in their field - huddled together silently and shuffled through the dark toward the fire exit stairwell on the north side.
 

As they moved forward, Tanaka held back. He turned to look back at the chaos and death he'd created. How could he face Shou knowing he'd caused this? How could she grow up in a world that would despise her father? Tanaka - a proud, indefatigable man - started to cry. A gentle sob, alone in the dark.

A punch, or perhaps a weak slap, to his kidneys snapped Tanaka out of his self pity. What was that? He could feel the pain welling up already. In fact it was throbbing. Tanaka turned to his left and looked down at the bald head and muscular form of John Evans as he swayed on his knees. Evans looked hazily up at Tanaka, before collapsing forward face-first. His nose cracked and split on the hard tiles, his head bounced hard off the surface. It didn't hurt. He was dead before he'd landed.

Tanaka turned back into the gloom and walked toward the group, his back throbbing from the punch.
 

#

As the group reached the entrance to the stairwell, the lights flickered once and came on again, the floor again bathed in bright white light.
 

Skinner blinked several times, then scanned the area.

The legs of a security guard poked out from behind a desk, while the body of another guard lay slumped near the bank of elevators. Skinner examined the group - the survivors. Some injured physically, and a few like Harper looked very bad. Everyone seemed smaller, beaten, defeated.

As they walked toward the stairwell, Skinner looked on in horror as a large pack of infected players arrived at the entrance. They looked young. Strong. Vicious. Some were armed with shattered glass and broken furniture but a few, the largest men at the head of the pack, had nightsticks from the guards.
 

But they seemed different.
 

The crazed, incoherent jabbering had gone. The jerky avian head movements typical of the infected, had slowed a little. They looked more - in control - and much more dangerous. The skinny teenager at the head of the pack flicked his head left and right, and the pack slid out of the stairwell and to the side of the shattered group. There were at least thirty of them. Skinner watched as the pack moved in swift silence and knew. They were being surrounded before the massacre.

Skinner pulled Santos near. No one spoke.

"I love you Eva."

The wiry teenager at the front stretched his arms to the side as if being crucified. He held an enormous steel spike in one hand and a nightstick in the other. His white shirt and neat black tie were splattered with blood and gore. He slowly lowered his head, stared at Skinner and the beaten group behind him. The young man let out a primal roar and sprinted forward. His pack followed. They were coming at them from all angles.
 

There was nowhere left to hide.
 

#

The fireworks crackled and popped. It seemed they'd never stop. From the left. From the right. From behind and from the front. The noise was deafening. The smell of gunpowder and smoke drifted. Skinner covered his ears, and pulled Santos in tight.
 

A moment later - although Skinner found it hard to say exactly how long - the noise stopped.
 

He shook his head. His ears were ringing. Santos' face was buried in his chest, her arms curled around his waist so tightly that he could feel the dampness of her bandaged shoulder.

Skinner raised his head and watched as an army of uniformed Japanese police moved in. Heavy boots, bulletproof jackets, guns held at eye level, the men cautiously sidestepped their way toward the infected pack, now lying slumped all around.

Rising up from the stairwell, Skinner could hear more shots echoing. The sound of boots thumping and men barking out to each other.
 

The cavalry had arrived.
 

Santos hugged Skinner tight.

#

6pm Thursday, Sapporo Japan. OUTBREAK

The squat bulldog of a man stood at the head of dozens of armed police. They had their rifles raised, scanning the area in all directions.
 

The man walked up to Skinner as he led the survivors forward.

"You are safe now. We are clearing the building. Follow me," and with that simple instruction, the man led the group toward the stairwell. Six armed officers led the way, scanning the stairs as they walked down. Behind the huddled survivors, another six officers scanned the stairwell above. Two large policemen took over from the technicians, picking Harper up and lifting him down the stairs. Another was talking in urgent concerned whispers to Tanaka as they trudged down the stairs.

A few moments later, they arrived in the main lobby to find it filled with police and what looked like military. Everyone was armed. Outside, the snow was falling thick and fast, whipped up by the freezing winter wind. Inside, dozens of medics were treating the injured. Skinner recognised the pretty young woman from the front desk as a medic fed an intravenous drip into her arm, her head heavily bandaged. Armed police patrolled the area while helicopters buzzed outside. Spotlights flickered across the quiet residential neighbourhood.
 

It was a battlefield.

Several triage nurses flitted between the survivors. In the distance, Skinner noticed that the nurse examining Tanaka waved urgently, and two men ran to her aid. He suddenly realised someone was talking to him. It was so hard to focus. His ears were still ringing, and the voice sounded far in the distance.

"Oh my God. No."
 

Tait was staring into the middle distance, whispering commands into his glasses.
 

Skinner turned to Tait.

"What?"

Tait turned to Skinner, and with a look of sheer terror replied, "The game's been released. Whoever did this released it online. It's everywhere!"
 

#

Tait frantically spun around the level one reception, now a makeshift emergency room, desperately trying to find Tanaka. He walked past armed policemen, injured staff and the dead and dying, before finding Tanaka lying on a bed beside Harper. Medics were buzzing around both men, Harper grey and unconscious, Tanaka drowsy.

Tait sprinted over.
 

"Mr Tanaka. They've released the game. Not our version, but the infected game. It's been copying for hours, and every iSight 2 player's already in it. Hundreds of millions are in it right now!"

Tait trailed off.

Tanaka gazed up at Tait, his liver had been ripped open. There was no way of stopping the internal bleeding in time. Shock was quickly setting in. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he said, "Shou - is she safe?"

Tait looked into the dying man's watery eyes. Tait knew Tanaka blamed himself for his wife's death. He knew Shou's injuries haunted him every minute of the day.
 

Tait leaned forward.

"Yes. She's safe"

Tanaka smiled. Relieved.
 

A moment later, Tait stood up, turned and walked away from his brilliant mentor.
 

Behind him, a fresh-faced doctor covered Tanaka's face with a blanket. He whispered briefly to a nurse beside him, turned and moved on to the next bed.

#

All through the freezing cold night, despite the deep snow and the blizzard, armed police and military kept arriving.

And news crews. Lots of them.
 

They stood shivering outside WhiteStar's imposing gate, held back by fierce armed guards. They jostled for the best shot. The best angle.
 

In the underground car park, Skinner watched as a stream of injured people walked or were carried out. It seemed to Skinner that more and more blanket-covered corpses were leaving, and he briefly wondered just how many people had died today. A medic grabbed Skinner by the elbow and pulled him toward a waiting ambulance. Skinner held tight onto Santos. The medic was talking quickly. He was telling Skinner that Santos would be traveling in a separate ambulance. Skinner shook his head. "There is no way that is ever happening." Skinner gripped onto Santos with all his might and Santos gripped back.
 

There was no way they were separating.

After a few more seconds, the medic gave up and led them both into one of a row of ambulances lined up in the underground car park.
 

The medic closed the door, and a few seconds later the ambulance drove slowly up the ramp and out into the blizzard. The vehicle slowed to a crawl as the storm picked up. As they drove out through the gate and into the dark night, Skinner and Santos stared at the scene outside.
 

Out of the corner of his eye, Skinner picked up a flurry of movement and a few muffled screams.

Racing out from the car park ramp were dozens of battle-scarred and infected players. They were spilling out onto the concourse, attacking people at random. The armed police at the gate wheeled round and struggled through the near white-out conditions toward the escapees.

Skinner watched as the police nearest the pack started shooting, their targets falling into the snow. The thick snow and wind blanketed the sound - the whole scene playing out in silence. Skinner saw two policemen overpowered, and then the infected swarmed over them, pounding on them then sprinting off. Two of the players emerged with the policemen's guns and started firing indiscriminately into the crowd. Armed police flooded from the building, shooting at the scampering pack as they ran.

Completely exhausted, Skinner slumped back onto the ambulance bed. Santos stretched out her right hand, wincing at the pain in her shoulder, and took hold of his hand.

Skinner turned. and smiled. Outside, the muffled sound of screams and shots drifted through the winter air.

The ambulance glided on through the sleeping, snow-covered Sapporo night.

CHAPTER SIX

Epilogue

"Let's go through it again, please."

Skinner yawned. He was too tired to be angry anymore. He'd told the same story over and over. To the police, to a government official, to even more police and, weirdly, to a guy from the CIA. Something like that. It struck him as odd that they'd be here in Japan, but Skinner didn't really care anymore. He just wanted to see Santos.
 

And then get some sleep.

He let out an exhausted sigh of relief when the nurse stepped forward and hustled the guy out. As the door was about to close, Skinner turned to the nurse and softly asked, "Excuse me, but can you tell me where Doctor Santos is?"

Confusion briefly flickered across the young Japanese nurse's face, replaced a moment later by understanding. She smiled warmly and replied in broken English while pointing a thin finger to the wall behind Skinner's head. "Yes. We are observing Doctor Santos next door."

"And how is she?"

A moment's pause, and then, "She is well. Tired I think, but well."

Skinner smiled, grateful and relieved. "Thank you."

The nurse returned his smile and ghosted out of the room.

The heavy wooden door swung shut, and he was finally alone, lying on a steel framed bed in a private room on the 11
^th
floor of the Shiritsusapporo hospital.