HIVZ Chapter 2, an alex rider fanfic

ONE fantastic guess! Now a word find. How many times is the word ZOMBIE mentoned?

Alex's hand was cramping. He looked at the clock. Ten minutes left. Where did the rest of the fifty minutes go? Alex scanned the paper, looking at the way his script began to run together and lean slightly to the right as he wrote. Five minutes. Alex heard a student swear softly nearby. Hand screaming in pain, Alex hastily scribbled a last sentence. His hand was shaking and he rubbed it gingerly. Alex flexed it slowly. The class had five minutes left. Mr. Bimer's treat. Mr. Bimer was a slightly sadistic English teacher, giving moral timed essays and having the class read books like Crime and Punishment. He claimed he wanted them to truly learn. Alex was convinced he cultivated serial killers in this room. There was a shrill ring from the landline on Bimer's desk. The man picked it up. All movement in the room stopped. Who would get the luckily break?

"Hello. Room 122, Bimer speaking."

A pause. Students began to whisper excitedly. Alex shot a glance at James, who shrugged. No thoughts there.

"Yes, they are here. "

A rapid hiss rushed from the piece.

"Now?" Mr. Bimer looked annoyed. "I was about to start passing out The Great Gatsby. Fine. Yes, I'll send them up. Yes. Have a good day. Bye. Good bye."

He slammed down the phone.

"Rider." He jerked his thumb towards the door. "Front, now. Doctor's appointment. Did you hear what I said on the phone."

Alex nodded.

"Good. Chapters one and two. Characterise Nick and Gatsby. A paragraph each. Tomorrow, on my desk."

Alex nodded again and rushed for the door. When he was out in the hall, he heard Mr. Bimer behind him. "I hope you're getting this down!"

Alex's sneakers squeaked on the laminated floor. There was nothing creepier than a quiet empty school in the middle of the day. He knew Brookland Comprehensive like the back of his hand. Left hall, then through the canteen and towards the front doors. Sharp turn to the desk and wave at…Jack? What was she doing here? Alex knew she would have told him, but based on this morning, it might have slipped her mind. Alex signed his name on the list and looked at Jack.

She smiled guiltily. "I'm so sorry Alex. I completely forgot. "

The employee at the desk grunted. "It happens to the best of us."

Jack shifted slightly. "Your appendix appointment. It completely slipped my mind, and Mr. … Dr. Blunt was kind enough to bump up the appointment, so you won't miss as much school. "

Alex smiled tightly. "That's very kind of him."

Jack smiled at the worker and hefted her bag higher on her shoulder. "Let's go."

Alex followed slowly behind.

*HIVZHIVZHIVZ*

When he was safely buckled into the seat, Jack pulled out. The car's wheel's whirred on the street.

"You called them, didn't you?"

Jack shrugged. She didn't even seem guilty. Alex found this incredible.

"Why? You know they'll want something in return. It'll be me! I know it! Why didn't you think?" Alex didn't mean to sound so harsh, but his bad day had gone from fucked up to total shit storm.

Jack shot Alex a glare, and he suddenly realized how serious this was. There were high spots of colour on her cheeks and she was tapping a beat on the steering wheel. They rolled to a stop, and Jack clicked her tongue.

She closed her eyes for a second, composing herself.

"I can't tell you right now. You get to find out with everyone else."

Alex scrabbled with the door handle. It was locked.

"Jack…"

She grabbed his face in her hands, and her eyes looked moist. "Alex, no matter what, promise you love me."

"You know I do Jack…"

"No." she shook her head, tears dropping onto her shirt. "You have to promise me."

"What?"

"Say it." She begged.

"What should I say?"

"Repeat after me…"

Alex suddenly remembered Jack doing this when he was younger, making him swear not to eat the last cookie or do his homework. It was a simple guilt trick.

Alex played along anyway.

Jack spoke slowly.

"I promise…"

"I promise…" Alex repeated.

"…to love you Jack…"

"…no matter what you say or do…"

"…and I will keep myself safe to the best of my ability…"

"…and I will never forget my family…"

"…and how much they love me…"

"…and how much I love them."

Alex felt a bit stupid. This was one of Jack's more somber promises he had made. The most somber.

She pulled him into a rough hug, then left the car. Alex scrambled all the way out this time. Whatever was going on, it was beyond total shit storm.

*HIVZHIVZHIVZ*

Jack smoothed the front of her shit, hoping the darker spots wouldn't show. She stole a glance at Mrs. Jones. The woman had a remarkable composure that Jack envied. To be so calm, when faced with this? How was it possible?

Mrs. Jones walked to the front of the room. Jack meekly followed. The room might have been a storage room or an indoor shooting range. It had concrete wall and rows of folding metal chairs. Jack saw Alex sitting near the front, crammed between business suits. He looked horribly out of place. There was a flash of camo near the back. Her feet became rooted to the spot. Mrs. Jones hurried over.

"What's wrong?"

"Why the hell are the SAS here?"

"The SAS and the SBS. But this not important. You are the only expert here. All I have is files."

"I was a office worker!" Jack hissed. "I never killed…"

Mrs. Jones gripped her shoulder. "You are the best hope we have."

Jack swallowed.

She walked to the front, Mrs. Jones next to her. There was a podium, and Mrs. Jones stepped up to it.

The microphone cracked a little at the deputy coughed slightly. Someone shifted, and a chair scraped across the floor. Jack flinched at the noise. Like nails on chalkboards…

"Hello. Thank you all for coming. I know this is short notice, and many of you are confused. A code has been called today, a serous code that has never been called before. It was instated during the Spanish Influenza Epidemic, although what we are preparing against has been around as long as people."

A blue screen appeared on the wall behind her. Somehow MI6 had set up a projector. They were going to show pictures. Jack felt ill.

"This room is packed with the best Britain has to offer. MI6, our sister branch MI5, the SAS, the SBS, the Metropolitan Police. "

Jack felt her hands clench. How many people?

"For those of you who know our codes," Mrs. Jones continued, we have called a code Omega Zada."

A man wailed in the back. People twisted to look at him.

"You have to be lying!" He screamed. "There is no way! The minimum has to be two hundred thousand! Two hundred thousand! How can that many be wandering around without our notice?"

"Please calm down. You're not helping matters."

"Bullocks! Tell me right now, how did we miss it?"

"I'm going to get to that!" Mrs. Jones snapped, and for the first time Jack saw fear in her eyes. This was terrible. They were going to lose control, and they haven't even said the bad news.

The man took a deep gasping breath and sat abruptly down.

Mrs. Jones clicked a button. "An average of ten million Americans go missing every year. Fifty thousand are never found. We estimate twenty each year are infected. Here, in Britain, we have an average of ten."

She clicked a button. The blue square changed.

A picture of a couple smiling at a camera was shown. They were on a beach, the ocean to their left, sand stretching to the right and behind them.

"This was taken with a high speed camera with two frames per second."

The pictures jumped forward. A homeless girl appeared behind them. She looked very sick, with sunken eyes and a hanging jaw. As the pictures flashed up, the girl approached the couple. Her mouth moved and the woman slowly turned. Jack closed her eyes. She knew what was going to happen. It was the basic rookie video. Because the camera had been on a tripod, it had captured everything. The girl would reach the couple in five…four…three…two…

There were sounds of disgust.

Jack opened her eyes. She looked at the image. It was blank now except for a smear of red on the sand. She looked back into the crowd. The expression ranged from sickened to disbelief.

Mrs. Jones turned off the screen. The wall was blank once more.

"Here we have Jack Starbright, an American who has dealt with these type of situations before."

Jack stepped toward the podium. Alex's eyes were probably drilling into her, but she didn't look at him. It wasn't personal. It was better not to look at anyone right now. If this really was a Omega Zada, everyone in this room might die. Jack cleared her throat.

"My name is Jack Starbright. I worked at the NSA for a few years as a temp to pay for hobbies during high school. They usually don't hire teenagers, but my dad worked there. I sorted files mostly. Filling in when people were sick. That kind of thing."

Jack looked at Mrs. Jones. She was rambling. Rein it in.

"Anyway, I looked at a file I wasn't supposed to. You know how it is." She smiled weakly. "If it says TOP SECRET, you have to open it."

There were a few mummers. Get to the point.

"Well…right… there had been an infected child. The report was the…removal…of the child and the editing of medical records and press releases and things like that. And it had pictures." Jack licked her lips nervously. "I told my dad and was moved to the Dead Head Division." She paused awkwardly. "We were really called the Infection Removal Unit. I mostly edited papers. I never saw one face to face. I do know there are some basic rules."

She has the room's full attention.

"Ok. Fist they are dead." There was some chuckling. "No really. They don't need to breath or stop or are distracted in anyway. Explosions only work with lots of fire. These guys eventually dry out and burn like leaves. They light up quick, but move around lighting up anything nearby. So if an area is densely populated with them, a whole city could burn down. Second. Senses. I'm not sure if they can taste anything. Their hearing is slightly less than that of us. Again, drying out- it messes up your eardrums too. What next? Sight… again, I guessing from paperwork, they can't see too well if their eyes get scratched up. This reminds me… No pain. Nothing! If you stab it in the knee, it will just shuffle along. The rabbet and the turtle, remember?" There were a few nods in the audience. "Sorry, guys. We are the rabbits. Only one difference. If the turtle gets you, you're lunch. The big danger: smell. They can sniff out exactly were you are. The only thing that throws them off is rotting meat, but it has to be putrid. "

Jack was on a roll.

"Third, weapons. You SAS people like your guns, right?"

There were a few cheers from the back.

"What happens when you run out of ammunition?"

There was silence. People were beginning to look worried. The doubters were starting to look around.

"This meeting. Omega Zada, is called is the threat of them is so great that civilization might not last. No electricity. Do you know what that means? Medical advancements? Gone. Military advancements? Gone. Technological advancements? Gone. Commutation advancements? Gone. You are looking at the middle ages folks! Weapons! The M1 Carbine is what we used. It's from WW II, so there are a lot to go around. You need a slow semi-automatic weapon. Only the best shots can use sniper rifles. You must be able to hit the head every single time. After guns are blades. The best thing about blades is they don't need reloading. Machete, ax, and hatchet are common. Trench spikes are easy to get your hands on. Swords need to be carefully selected. The Japanese katana works extremely well. The Roman Gladius and Japanese Ninjite are good for close quarters. Blunt instruments, such as a crowbar or Morning star also serve good blows. Hammers are slightly more useful. You can't break open a door with a Morning star, can you? They can only be killed by a sufficient blow to the head or decapitation. Broken backs will limit their movement, but a quick kill is necessary for survival. Slings are also fantastic, but only in the hands of expects. "

Jack stuttered to a stop. She had nothing left. She twisted her hands. "Umm… that's it."

Alex stood up. He looked ferrous. He glared at Jack. "So, you're saying we have to fight zombies?"

Jack ducked her head quickly, once.

Alex threw himself back in his seat, like they were at home and had just started dinner, rather than talk about the impending end of the world.

"Great." He huffed. "We are screwed."

The man who had reacted so badly in the beginning shoved up his hand. He waived it for emphasis.

"Yes?"

He stood up. Is everyone going to do this when they ask a question? Jack thought.

"How severe is it?"

"How severe is the infection spread?"

"You mean how far?"

He nodded.

Jack shrugged and looked at Mrs. Jones.

"Mrs. Jones pursed her lips. "It will take a month."

There were sounds of protest. "We have no way to stop it. Wouldn't you think we would have tried already?"

The man was still standing. "How fast does the infection spread?"

"Between one hour to a few days."

He sat down.

A police officer sprang up. "Is anyone immune?"

"No," Jack quickly responded. "Not that the NSA knows of. You don't want to test yourself though."

The officer sat own.

Jack gripped the podium. "Any more questions?" No one moved. "Look, I know it's scary, but what you don't know could kill you. Knowledge is power."

Jack was impressed. Somehow they they went through the basics. Short hair is best. Travel is small groups, no alone or in mobs. If you have an extremely secure place, stay. If not get to one. Trust is essential. Work together, even with people you didn't like. They could know more than you. Conserve water, and perishable foods. Pick up canned goods on the way. Keep moving, until you hit a safe location. THEN STOP. Never underestimate a child (That was thrown in for Alex's benefit).

Then came the one question Jack never wanted to an answer.

"What if it's our family?"

"As in, what if one of your family is turned?"

The women nodded.

Jack chewed her lip.

"you have to shoot them." She felt tears building up.

The woman gasped. "I couldn't do that!"

Jack looked her right in the eye. "Yes, you could. You need to remember, whatever they were, whoever they were is gone. There's nothing left. I promise you won't be hurting someone you love. And trust me, " Jack's voice hardened, " you won't love them with flesh hanging down their chin and peeling skin and ulcers and bone poking through and scratched cataracts. Trust me. There's no one home."

The woman sat down, her lower lip trembling.

Jack stood straighter. "Any more questions?"

Alex spoke up. "Will the public be told?"

Mrs. Jones answered. "Yes, next week."

Alex shot her a mistrusting glance "Do you promise?"

"I do, Alex."

He crossed his arms. "So what do we do until then? Pretend like nothing's happening?"

Mrs. Jones sighed. "We are shutting the Chunnel down tomorrow. If we can contain the island, we might not have to deal with anything. We could stay contained and isolated."

Alex laughed. "It won't work."

Mrs.,. Jones looked peeved. "Why now?" Now she had crossed her arms.

Alex threw his open. "one people will figure out Britain is contained, nothing will stop them from coming. They'll land ships illegally up and down the coasts. What will you do then? Run a police state? Shoot anyone caught smuggling in?"

Mrs. Jones shook her head. "No. WE will have people go though quarantine. That's all we can do."

"besides closing off the island"

"Besides closing off the island."

Jack looked over the crowd. She had never seen a more miserable group of people. "If there are no more questions, I think we can wrap this meeting up." It sounded stupid, to say normal things when everything else was so far from normal. But that, she supposed is how people keep sane. Do those stupid little normal things.

There was the usual mass as people stood to leave, and Alex crossed quickly to the front, towards Jack.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Jack knew there was more to that question. He was asking, Why did you lie to me?

But she didn't. She hoped she didn't.

"I dealt with Class A problems. Four -maybe, five-times a year a few people in my department would find one, kill, it , burn it, bag it, and I would sign it in and the news would get a story in about an hour about a serial killer or a rapist who went too far or something. I just sat at a desk all day protecting people from their loved ones who had turned into psycho-human-munching-freaks. Could you forgive me if I wanted to leave it all behind?"

Alex lowered his head a blushed. "Sorry."

"No, no." Jack absentmindedly rubbed his head. "You're good. I'm just a bit worked up."

She looked around the room. "It's been a bad day for everyone."