A World Reborn (Book 2): Global Outbreak Read online

  A World Reborn: Global Outbreak

  A World Reborn, Volume 2

  Chris Thompson

  Published by Chris Thompson, 2019.

  Copyright Information

  Text Copyright © Chris Thompson 2019

  Cover created by Chris Thompson and is © Chris Thompson 2019, and is an original image.

  Disclaimer

  The following is a work of fiction; no likenesses to persons, living or dead, or events is intended or inferred. The subject matter is suitable for mature audiences and features scenes of violence, adult language and horror. If you do not enjoy such content, or find it offensive, then do not read any further. Reader discretion is advised.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Disclaimer

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

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  Prologue

  GENERAL PAUL ALLEN stepped into the conference room. It was, he mused as he found his seat at the head of the cream colored table, the definitive, secret dark room; the lights were dimmed, admittedly to help the contrast on the video call they were about to receive, and there were only people of importance and power present. People who could shape every aspect of life in America, and likely pretty far afield in the world as a whole; the Director of the FBI, Joseph Gill was present, along with the heads of various security agencies, all of whom he knew personally. He greeted them as he passed by, but today was a day for all pleasantries to be put aside. As he took his seat, the large video screen at the opposite end of the room turned on and a video call was connected. A rough looking, older male stepped into the video frame and sat down; he looked weary and his combat fatigues were ruffled and bloodstained. His name was Paul Lenns, and he was currently controlling the ground forces in the Washington D.C. area.

  “Gentlemen, let’s begin with a few facts.” Allen announced. “The President and the Chiefs of Staff are secure. We’re also redirecting all overseas military assets back home to deal with this virus. What’s the current term being bandied about?”

  “We’re currently calling it an outbreak of the ‘Reborn Virus’, but news services are labeling it as the ‘Zombie Apocalypse’.” The FBI Director informed the group.

  “That’s if anyone is still reading or listening to the news.” Lenns commented.

  “What do you have to report, Lenns?” Allen asked.

  “It’s all gone to hell; we’re losing ground to the infected and the Reborn hour by hour.”

  “Do we have any more intel on the Reborn? How they operate, what their capabilities are?”

  “No, we’ve learned nothing. They don’t allow themselves to be taken alive; they self-administer the virus before we can capture them and remove their heart-rate monitoring device. All we can report is what we’ve reported already: they’re well armed, well prepared and, although the majority of their boots on the ground don’t appear to be extensively trained, there are some amongst them who are clearly former special operations from a variety of military services from both home and abroad.”

  “Is there any information on their weaponry?” Allen probed.

  “Well, they’re nearly as well equipped as us; anti-vehicle and anti-aircraft weaponry, helicopters and even some black market, armored ground vehicles. They’re using a highly encrypted method of communication that we’ve not been able to crack yet, while on the other hand, we’ve got multiple leaks in our lines of communication. And that’s not even mentioning the infected. I’m not going to lie, sir, we’re going to be overrun, it’s just a matter of time.”

  Allen sighed heavily, and then looked around the room.

  “What’s going on in the rest of the world?” He wanted to know.

  “Reports indicate it’s the same in every country; massive deployment of the Reborn virus, leading to overwhelming numbers of the infected supported by Reborn forces. One thing we have observed is that the Reborn forces are more heavily deployed in Western countries; this isn’t surprising, however, as their forces can’t be unlimited. The evidence tells us that they’re focusing their efforts here, perhaps as a show of strength, and are relying on the virus to weaken infrastructure everywhere else.” One of the intelligence agency representatives reported.

  “So what are our options?” Allen asked. He felt like his report back to the President was going to be pretty dire and hoped there would be some good news somewhere.

  “Well, we still have the Ancillary in our custody.” The FBI Director announced.

  “The Ancillary?” Allen questioned.

  “Yes.”

  “Remind me who that is?”

  “We believe she’s one of, if not the, second in command to the Teacher - the nut who’s in charge of the Reborn. FBI Special Agent James DeWitt is currently escorting her and the so called ‘Witness’, Melissa Jones, to an extraction point. We’re hoping to get them to an off the books location and then convince the Ancillary to tell us everything she knows.”

  “Presumably starting with her name.” Lenns commented sarcastically.

  “You don’t know her real name?” Allen asked incredulously.

  “No.” He returned. “There’s no record of her in any database, other than the fact that she was identified as being in charge of the Seraph attack.”

  “And we’ve learned nothing more about the Seraph attack that might be of use in our current situation?” Allen questioned.

  “Nothing more than is already documented: they deployed the Reborn virus then broadcast the slaughter via the internet. Melissa Jones was there on vacation. She’s a journalist who survived reporting on the civil war in Galgambwe, where she received some training by private military contractors on firearm usage. That training came in handy. She managed to rescue the last of the hostages from the Seraph Hotel and Casino, and defeated the majority of the Reborn soldiers to boot. She also learned that they call her the ‘Witness’, as the Teacher has identified her as the one who will essentially write the new gospel of how the world fell and was reborn to be a place where there is no corruption and the strong willed, the Reborn and those who join them, can thrive. To help her achieve that goal, they made sure she was immune to the virus, along with what we believe to be between one and five percent of all people across the world; everyone else is immediately turned. The unlucky bastards who are immune but aren’t deemed strong enough to join the Reborn don’t get to walk away though. They’re consumed by the infected while alive, and their flesh retards the decomposition process, enabling the infected to last longer.” The FBI Director recounted. Allen nodded.

  “Well, gentlemen, it’s been two weeks since the global outbreak of the Reborn virus began. Let’s hope the situation is looking brighter by the time we reach the third.” Allen announced.

  Chapter One

  “Miss Jones, please try to remain calm.” Agent DeWitt told her, firmly but politely. It took every ounce of her internal strength to not slap his face. Instead she bit her cheek, a faint taste of blood as she bit a little too hard. Melissa had become a survivor out of necessity, and right then the survivor part of her brain screamed that sitting in the back of a truck being escorted by the FBI to a place they adamantly, even aggressively, refused to reveal, was the stupidest thing she could be doing. In
addition, the fact that the Ancillary sat across from her smiling, just as she had been doing for practically the whole of the last two days, had gone past being frustrating: it was filling her with genuine rage. They hadn’t changed her clothing, leaving her in the white robe and slippers - very much like the ones she’d worn in the Seraph - but her wrists were secured with metal handcuffs. That hadn’t put a damper on her relentless smiling, however. More frustratingly to Melissa, the Ancillary would occasionally try to engage Melissa in polite conversation, to which Melissa would respond with silence because she couldn’t trust herself to speak without repeating a number of crude expletives learned from the mercenaries in Galgambwe, and she wanted to believe she was above that.

  Roy Snipes was also in the back of the truck with them; he looked uncomfortable, no doubt his still-healing leg wound was aggravated by the confined space and near constant sitting. Dressed in the same suit he’d been wearing when he accompanied Melissa to the FBI office in Washington, he’d taken the jacket off, folded it on his lap and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up; he seemed as comfortable as he could be in the armored vest he was wearing, but that wasn’t what really concerned Melissa. He had lapsed into a somber mood and only spoke when responding to a question. Melissa understood why. Since they had been forced to flee from Washington, no one had been able to contact the FBI field office in Las Vegas where his wife had supposedly been taken after the outbreaks began. He had given up asking DeWitt to try to discover her whereabouts or an assurance that she was still safe, as the agent had stopped making calls when there had been no response from Washington after a day or two. Roy’s face was a mixture of concern and determination; concern for his wife and determination that he would find her, no matter what was happening in the rest of the world. Melissa had privately sworn to Roy that she would help him, no matter what it took, just as soon as they were free of their FBI escort. The two had formed a strong bond and Melissa believed that neither would willingly allow the other to step into danger alone.

  Getting away from their FBI escort, however, wouldn’t be easy. Melissa knew they were planning to hold on to her for as long as it took them to persuade the Ancillary to divulge all of her secrets. She had declared she would only talk with Melissa present, and although she had revealed some facts initially, she had fallen silent since she, Melissa and Roy were herded into the armored truck they were currently travelling in. All the Ancillary had done since then, other than smile at Melissa whenever she looked in her direction, was look incredibly pleased with herself, as though everything was going exactly as she wanted and she didn’t have a care in the world. Knowing what Melissa did of the Reborn, her actions could have been a small but necessary part of an elaborate plan. However, also knowing how manipulative and deceitful the Ancillary was, it could also have been a front that hid her concern. Somehow though, Melissa didn’t think it was the latter.

  So far, their journey with the FBI had had a fairly uniform pattern, more so after they had left Washington D.C. Whenever they made their way to a supposedly clear extraction point for a helicopter, it would be an unsuccessful endeavor. No matter where they went the Reborn arrived before the helicopter and they were forced to flee, not wanting to risk a gun battle in the middle of a city or town for fear of drawing in an overwhelming number of infected. Even though they had left them behind, the memory of the huge numbers of infected in Washington was enough to send a chill down Melissa’s spine. She remembered too what had happened in the Seraph, how sickening it had been that so many people, there to enjoy the fabled delights of star studded shows and gambling casinos, had been turned. But those numbers paled in comparison to the number of infected once the virus had been released in a city. Tens of thousands had been turned within the first twenty four hours. The military and police had all scrambled to react and save as many as they could, but wherever a safe zone was created, the Reborn either attacked directly with overwhelming firepower, or snuck an agent inside to deploy the virus. The journey since Washington could best be described as a giant game of cat and mouse; unfortunately for Melissa, she wasn’t the cat. The Reborn pursued them doggedly from place to place. It honestly didn’t make any sense; DeWitt had checked their vehicle and those of their escorts for some kind of tracking device, and they had all been called upon to dispose of their cell phones. How they had been tracked was a mystery, but the Reborn were persistent. Eventually, DeWitt had been given coded instructions over the radio to go to the emergency rendezvous point known only to him, the pilot and his immediate superior - whoever the hell that was, Melissa thought irately - and since that order they’d been eating up the miles, but at least it was with a purpose and with a safe destination in mind. And then they had been forced to stop to fill the fuel tank again. Until that point, DeWitt had been relaying the directions, one step at a time, to the driver through the small grill separating the front from the back. Did that mean, Melissa mused, he thought someone in their group had a way to inform the Reborn of their current position? After everything they had been through, nothing would surprise her - though it seemed highly unlikely. They were all hand-picked by DeWitt himself. Whatever was going on, she was becoming increasingly frustrated with the situation; she’d been wearing the same tatty jeans, shirt and boots for days without an opportunity to clean up, and the uncomfortable tactical vest she’d been given was starting to get on her nerves.

  Someone banged on the outside of the vehicle and Melissa realized that their brief stop was coming to an end. A few moments later, the truck rumbled into life, then Melissa felt it begin to move. They pulled out of whatever gas station they’d stopped in and rumbled forward. Once on the road again, they drove at speed, slowing only when they were about to make a turn. What Melissa saw looking through the grill to peer out of the front window was what appeared to be a street with some kind of functional buildings on the left, businesses perhaps, and a grassy area on the right. As they drove, Melissa looked at the Ancillary and saw her perk up when their gazes met.

  “Are you expecting your friends to rescue you?” Melissa asked her pointedly, deciding it was about time the Ancillary explained why she was so calm.

  “Hmm?” The Ancillary questioned.

  “You’ve been sitting there looking pretty damn chilled.”

  “Oh, you mean do I think the Teacher will allow me to rot in a prison cell after obeying his instructions? Of course not! The Teacher loves me, as he loves you, Melissa; as he loves all those who have the strength to survive. I’ve proved my strength, as have you and Roy. The rest of these people,” the Ancillary commented, looking around at the agents in the truck, “their test still awaits them.”

  The Ancillary closed her eyes, seemingly interested in napping. Melissa glanced over at DeWitt, and saw he was eyeing the Ancillary with a slightly hostile expression. After shaking his head, he reached up with his hand to press the talk button on the radio clipped to the side of his vest.

  “All units, stay sharp. Watch the windows, watch the rooftops.” He instructed. Melissa didn’t hear the replies as they were relayed directly into his earpiece.

  They continued speeding along the road for a while, then slowed and made a right turn. A few more turns followed, but then their speed dropped significantly... then permanently. The armoring of the truck muffled the sounds from outside but it was clear to Melissa that there was some kind of commotion going on. Initially, it was movement, and then there were screams, gunshots and sounds of violence, which together brought back more than a few, disturbing memories for her.

  “All units, report. What’s going on out there?” DeWitt demanded via the radio. His brow furrowed as he listened to the response. “Damn.” He said to himself.

  “What’s happening?” Melissa insisted on knowing. She noticed the Ancillary had now opened her eyes and was watching intently.

  “There’s a group of infected surging in at an intersection ahead. The local police are fighting back, but are telling us most of the city is overrun. We might n
eed to go around the intersection here, it depends how long it takes for them to cut them down.” DeWitt informed her.

  The wait was uncomfortable, or rather, their inactivity was unnerving, making Melissa wish DeWitt had chosen to go around instead of maintaining their position, completely unaware of what was happening outside. It felt to her like an invitation to the horde of infected to break through the roadblock and advance towards them. The sounds of gunfire grew in frequency, and Melissa was sure she could hear the baying of the infected too; hungry, angry, or pitiable moans and howls escaping their dead throats, even through the heavy armor of the truck. It hadn’t occurred to Melissa to question why they made sounds at all until now. Was it some leftover remnant of the human impulse to communicate? Or was it nothing more than the sound an animal would make before it pounced, a threatening noise to frighten its prey? Perhaps, but Melissa didn’t get the opportunity to complete her musing. She heard a huge, violent explosion that rocked the truck slightly, then louder, much closer gunfire erupted all around them, the sound of bullets hitting the armored truck clear to all within.

  “Secure the prisoner!” DeWitt ordered the other agents, and then spoke into his radio once more. “What’s going on out there?”

  Gunfire was still raging outside, and when she looked out through the grill, Melissa saw flames and a torrent of black smoke; it seemed their front escort vehicle had been destroyed by some kind of explosion. DeWitt approached the rear doors and opened them. The sounds from outside flooded in like a rising tide: gunfire, screaming and the baying of the infected. It was all so close, so real, and seemingly drawn from her dark, lived-through nightmare from the past. Melissa earnestly wished she had a gun.

  “Get ready! We’ll find cover in one of the nearby buildings!” He instructed. Melissa looked at him, and then at the scene beyond him. The SUV that had been their rear escort was about ten feet behind them, and the tactical agents were engaged in a violent gun battle with someone who had the advantage of height - across the street on their left. All the agents could do was duck behind the doors, pop out to fire a salvo of gunfire back at their aggressors and return into cover before a barrage of return fire slammed against the reinforced steel of the SUV’s body. The street beyond them seemed relatively clear, but the infected wouldn’t be far away.