“Everything was perfectly healthy and normal here in Denial Land.” ― Jim Butcher

Malcolm’s senses were overstimulated by the bright lights of what he finally realized was an interrogation room. The voices spoke with authority, yet the tones were muffled and blended.

“NELSON!” A Lieutenant Colonel named Clemens barked, sparking Malcolm from his dissociation. “You look dead at me for this debrief! Got me?”

Malcolm blinked immediately for ‘yes’ as he popped the ach in his bare knuckles. “You’ve sat me here twice now to have me repeat myself verbatim. Between that? I haven’t seen the light of day since the sun set in Korea!”

The Lieutenant Colonel of fifty years, withered to look seventy, was flanked by his officers at the seats lined next to him; he pounded a fist against the long table. “I’ll have you repeat yourself a thousand times until we know exactly what happened to you at the Tunnel!”

Malcolm vented his agitation with the drumming of closed knuckles; he pulled out a cigarette from a quarter empty pack and twiddled it in his hand. “Huh…a better question…” He looked Clemens in the eyes. “How did not see this coming?”

“You are not changing the subject!”

Malcolm nodded with puckered lips. “Actually, I am. It’s better that we know how you quacks in the Command Chain managed to fuck up worse than Churchill with Gallipoli!”

Clemens pointed at him. “Then you’ll stay in your brig until I can finally slap you with insubordination! You want to see the sun today? Start making sense right now!”

A red-flushed Malcolm brought the cigarette to his mouth, he learned too late that his lighter was dead. “Someone humor me over here.”

All in the room, even the armed guards behind Malcolm stood silent.

Malcolm was agitated. “Aww for God’s sake…Put me in a goddamn muzzle if you’re so scared! It’s been, like, three days!”

“And your attitude isn’t putting us to rest…” The Lieutenant Colonel sneered.

Malcolm’s eyes bulged. “You want another blood sample? I’m not sick; I’d be showing symptoms by now!”

“And how do you know?” Clemens asked coldly.

Malcolm leaned onto the table from where he sat, “I’ve been close enough to the Berserkers to feel their breath! And none of you are wearing masks so you know it isn’t airborne! Now this is an American ship, someone in this room has a light! Hand it over and I won’t bite so hard!”

It appeared from the soldier guarding Malcolm’s left, sliding across the table.

Malcolm looked at the guard as he grabbed it. “You’re a Gentleman and a Scholar; I’ll honor you by banging your wife!”

“NELSON!” The Lieutenant Colonel barked. “That’s enough!”

Malcolm lit the cigarette and took a long drag to relax his anger. “Look, you people even brought me a typewriter to print out my report. I’m a little flustered why it’s not enough yet.”

Clemens opened the document with Malcolm’s written words. “Your first contact with the Infected occurred after nineteen hundred hours…”

“Technically it was when I arrived after seventeen hundred.” Malcolm gave a huff of smoke. “The South Korean Military Police had an injured man after they first made contact in the Tunnel.”

“And reiterate for us what happened to them.”

“Presumed K.I.A. at the other end. Sir.”

Clemens nodded. “They crossed to investigate it; an order you gave them. Unescorted.”

Malcolm nodded. “It was their tunnel, seemed fit to make them scope it.”

“And when they dropped off?”

Malcolm sneered. “I waited on Bravo to arrive after McElroy personally ordered me to send him the bodies we had, plus the injured man. I sent one of my medics and that was the last time I saw of them.”

“So, after Bravo arrived, it was them who you sent down the other end?”

“No.” Malcolm lied. “I wrote that Forrest took point and volunteered half his company. Electric Grid shut off while I was waiting on him and my medic.”

Clemens tapped with a pencil. “And this would be your first true encounter with the Infected?”

Malcolm tapped the table with his finger. “Until you elaborate on what they’re infected with, can we call them what they are?”

“Yes or No, Nelson.”

Malcolm huffed more smoke. “Yes. I lost contact with Captain Forrest, and it would eventually be me and Master Sergeant Chavez venturing down the Tunnel to rally Bravo.”

“And when you made contact?”

“Read it!” Malcolm demanded. “I watch Chavez get sunk and by the time we killed all the Berserkers, over a dozen troops had been bitten!”

“Yes…Including your X.O.; Second Lieutenant Harvey Daniels…”

Malcolm nodded emphatically. “By then, we knew shit was hitting the fan outside after that I had to figure out a Pandemic was going on. Every time I had Mendez on the line, what he was saying was always cryptic.”

“And walk us through how you realized what was happening?”

Malcolm began to trace on the table. “I first connected the flu cases when I talked to the sick refugees we had. I assumed we were dealing with a Rabies outbreak and panicked. As I screamed for the bodies in the tunnel to be burned, another of my medics was mutilated to death by two of the refugees who had turned.”

Clemens cupped his fingers with a sneer. “And that was when you made the decision to execute fifteen United States Soldiers?”

Malcolm shook his head. “No. I decided to euthanize them after Mendez himself told me to leave them behind.”

Clemens visibly restrained himself. “Yes, so you claim.”

“You think I’m a liar?” Malcolm heaved.

“I think you acted calously!”

Malcolm was offended. “McElroy himself told me that death rate has been total so far. So, was I to just leave them behind to feast on others; now, how is that responsible?”

“You don’t get to make choices like that!”

Malcolm leaned in further. “Daniels turned immediately after he died! Understand me? That was when I knew we were all in deep shit. And it’s a good thing I acted, or they’d have been turned loose on my ranks while we waited on you guys to get us out!”

Now, Clemens leaned in. “Then how do you know that he already died?”

Malcolm guffawed, “Every. Last. One. Dies of a headshot!”

“...I think it’s clear that you were compromised by the gravity of your situation, not to mention the power that’s gone to your head!”

“I’M compromised?!” Malcolm barked. “You people let our forward army group get caught, not by the belt, but taking a complete shit! Now I’m holding the bag for saving the most out of every Commanding Officer in my division?!”

The Lieutenant Colonel stood suddenly, “I ought to have you sunk as if we were the goddamn Japs!”

A sudden turn of a door panel swung behind Clemens. “ATTENTION!”

In unison, everyone stood at attention as Colonel McElroy stepped inside the interview room. “At ease. Clemens, what have I told you?”

“Sir.” Clemens still faced Malcolm. “Captain Nelson is insubordinate and with all-due respect…” He faced the Colonel. “I'm the one who wanted Daniels to command November Company!”

McElroy remained stoic. “...I read Nelson’s report; he does know that the mortality rate is total…Daniels was always going to become one of them.” McElroy raised his finger. “Now I told you that we’ve yet to see an incubation period this long. Both Nelson and his Companies show no symptoms, and their blood tests are consistently negative. There’s no need to keep them under quarantine any longer.”

The Lieutenant Colonel shut his eyes and seethed out his frustration, much to Malcolm’s satisfaction. “We’ll see your Company is allowed on the decks. Go.” Clemens said.

Malcolm stood with pain to hide his grin; McElroy motioned for him. “With me.” He spoke. Malcolm obeyed.

McElroy’s guards shut the door behind them as he guided Malcolm down the corridors of the labyrinthian U.S. carrier. There was a constant flux of Naval crewmen standing to salute both McElroy and Malcolm as they passed. The Crew and the Army grunts, maintained an orderly sense of Rank and File. However, the mood across the decks Malcolm and McElroy journeyed was one of silent, yet confused dread. In the days since the Outbreak started, there were already posters across the metal walls by the CDC which encouraged the washing of hands and regular sanitization. One made Malcolm supress a chuckle:

"ARE YOU INFECTED WITH THE NAEGLERIA FLU?"

"IF SO, REMAIN CALM AND CONTACT YOUR LOCAL MILITARY CHECKPOINT IMMEDIATELY..."

McElroy had dismissed his guards before entering his quarter office on the ship with Malcolm alone. He circled around a desk with a swivel chair on wheels and took his seat with Malcolm standing. McElroy leaned forward across his desk. “What I’m about to tell you, is going to be told to everyone…in a trickled way. Understand?”

Malcolm nodded. McElroy turned his chair to face Malcolm’s left, where an old television was set up as he twiddled a remote in hand. “Cindering the infection sites in South Korea seems to have bought them valuable time…But then there’s the Global Pandemic…”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

McElroy clicked his remote and the Television cut to a live news feed in the italics of Italian. Malcolm didn’t need to make the words to distinguish a metropolis awash with anarchy. The feed was from a helicopter above the weaving river streets of Venice, where hundreds of thousands panicked people crowded the waterways with boats; some boats burned others were fighting to stop people from leaping onto their decks from the disasterous streets around them.

As the reporter spoke frantically, the news feed panned its view to a single road:

People were running in every direction, only to be blocked by a collage of wrecks, military barricades, or the sudden explosion of a gas station. The reporter focused on the wall of riot shields at the bottom end of the road. The chaotic civilians were charging directly into their ranks to escape, and policemen battered them back with batons. Two firetrucks sprayed their hoses into the growing mass, and despite the growing teargas, they were unabating. It was the mass at the far end of the road Malcolm turned his eyes to, it was the butchery which the people were fleeing.

It was a far-off road of people colliding and being torn, ripped, and dismembered. As the charging mass grappled with any living soul, the Network muted the sounds of shrieking and panic; only the desperate mutterings of the reporter narrated the scene.

Malcolm flexed his jaw to process the expected sight. as McElroy gave a slight, yet nervous, rock of his chair. “This is the one that all Europe is watching…”

As the TV cut to an Italian Military official, giving blanketed instructions and reassurance, Malcolm turned his head to McElroy. “I saw this shit happening to the Chinese the morning of the operation. What did they tell us?”

McElroy gave a ‘Pfft’ as he drew a perfectly cylindrical cigar from his desk and lit it for comfort. “They never officially ‘talked’ to us at all. It was the World Health Organization…” McElroy inhaled a bright flame and talked over the smoke. “I already told you that we were getting red alerts from Yongsan Base regarding the Spring Flu Outbreak. While we were scrapping the truth together on the peninsula, WHO made an emergency announcment...too late for any network to tune in and make a difference.”

“...So, what did they say?”

McElroy hesitated. “That the ‘Event in Pyongyang’, as they initially called it, has broken out in China. They described the ‘Event in Pyongyang’ as ‘a contagion of a highly degenerative nature.”

Malcolm shook his head. “So, the outbreak seeped into them from North Korea, like it did the South.”

McElroy nodded. “And from China, it must've gone Global. The people at Yongsan may have found out how it was spreading for us but we couldn’t get anyone out when Seoul was leveled.”

Malcolm clicked his tongue, “But WHO knows and I know bacteria can’t act that fast. So, what the fuck is it?”

McElroy’s eyes rolled around the room, as if he were looking for an escape. “I don’t know.”

Malcolm’s brows raised to the point they might rip. “Well, what did WHO say?”

The Colonel flashed an open palm. “They illustrated the disease to behave like a resilient parasite, only it’s not…it’s an infectious 'amoeba." McElroy knocked ash into his tray. “Supposedly it's a unicellular microbe that they say mutated from a documented strain, one which used to end with meningitis. Baseline symptoms? Flulike. Endgame symptoms? Carnivorous. WHO can’t say if it mutated via human tampering or in a ‘patient zero’, but CDC confirmed the transmissions so far…This thing has adapted from fresh water to bodily fluids. This also confirms what we’ve been seeing: the Infected turn Berserker, and everyone they bite will incubate the amoeba.”

“...And what about our water?” Malcolm leaned into the desk with both hands. “Are any of us really safe if…”

McElroy raised both hands. “We’ve started checking.”

“You just…How are you sure the water is purified?”

McElroy tried to wave him down. “The chinks assured us that high temperatures kill it.”

“Still doesn’t explain why it became a pandemic in a matter of days!” Malcolm pointed to the TV and winced a blackened eye. "And how many countries are reporting it? Besides US.”

McElroy paused and sank.

“How many Outbreaks are there?”

McElroy knocked another bit of ash into his tray, he looked to his hand as if to count. “India. South Africa. France. Japan. Russia. Brazil. Panama-“

“You’re accounting for the mass migrations across the Third World…right?” Malcolm’s eyes revealed his mockery. “I bet they’re spreading it now…”

“Believe you and me.” McElroy interrupted. “International travel has been paralyzed by every government. Not even domestic flights are possible unless the military is involved.”

“I’m sure that will do wonders when peoples’ homes are burning!” Malcolm retorted.

“Evening curfews are being setup in both the outbreak centers and the non-infected zones…emergency services are…”

“Not trained for an Apocalypse!” Malcolm interrupted. “Think you can tell the Zombies to respect a curfew? Think any civvies are gonna ‘hunker down’ when the Dead come charging through their windows? Are Doctors and Nurses going to tell all their patients, ‘You are going to die. Let us cut open your skull now.”

McElroy decided to focus on Malcolm’s first choice of words. “Look at me, Nelson…This. Is. Not. The End. Everything is going to be okay; every nation is formulating strategies and containment procedures. The Korean Outbreak has slowed significantly…”

“And all it took was a Scorched Earth Response! How many times can we afford do this to our own people?”

McElroy paused. “The Administration panicked. We didn’t know about the devolving situation in Korea until it was already blowing up in Detroit…The President has been moved to a safe bunker; the CDC is coordinating with all branches and our allies, expanded firebombing is a last resort contingency.”

Malcolm chose not to ask; he snatched the remote from McElroy’s desk. He turned to the television and tunned the channels past the Italian perspective until he landed on America’s C-SPAN. Malcolm’s first indicator of the time over there, Twelve hundred hours.

There was a young reporter a field of battle, behind him was a field of pockmarks and a smoky horizon as Fortified positions opened fire on anything that moved. The Young reporter had to shout over the encore of heavy weapons. "WE ARE CONFIRMING NOW THAT THE NATIONAL GUARD HAS DECLARED THE STATE OF MICHIGAN LOST AS THE STATES SURROUNDING THE GREAT LAKES ARE BESET BY THE NAEGLERIA OUTBREAK..."

Malcolm almost dropped the remote. "Jesus Christ."

“Nelson-“

Malcolm faced McElroy. “What the fuck is happening in New Orleans?”

“Nelson…” McElroy made a genuine attempt to soothe. “ Only the Great Lakes and the West Coast is Endangered…” He leaned forward. “A lot of hospital staff are under a heavy presence by the National Guard…There’s no reason Meryl should’ve been hurt.”

Malcolm clenched his fist. The C-SPAN feed had cut to a sweaty-old reporter. “…we move on to a fourth day since what many are calling Judgement Day, the county sees its stores and pharmacies indiscriminately looted by hordes of panicked rioting. Many workers were accosted, and police barricades were being overrun as the night progressed. Following the evacuation and subsequent disappearance of the President from the White House, we are confirming now that mass protesters wearing medical, and gasmasks are storming the fences of the capital yard…”

Malcolm twitched his head. “…People are losing their shit without the infection!”

McElroy took another comforting cigar drag. “Critical VIPs have been or are being evacuated; we still have a bodied State…Steps are being taken to preserve existing population zones and city structures while we conduct a ‘cleansing campaign’ of the outbreak centers.”

“We’re doing what?”

McElroy motioned with both hands. “Everyone is establishing guidelines for the National Guard to wall off Quarantine Zones to guarantee the infection stays out. From there, we’re to work in conjunction with them to conduct security sweeps of the nonquarantined areas.”

Malcolm’s eyes glistened with certainty. “You’re already quartering most of three Hundred Million Americans to anarchy.”

McElroy closed his eyes, heaving the annoyance. “We’re taking every step to ensure this Pandemic is stopped…Until we have a vaccine, what would you do?”

Malcolm pursed his lips, “So where does that leave us?”

“Our destination is Seattle-“

“Bullshit!” Malcolm barked. “We’re supposed to go home!”

“Christ Nelson!” McElroy rubbed his face. “Getting to New Orleans by ship will take over a month and we’ll be crossing through Panama! Every city on the West Coast has a trade network with Asia! Everybody on that coastline is in danger of infection! Hell, you can see it for yourself!”

Malcolm wanted to twist his own head to an angle. “Burn them.” He hollowed. “If it bought the gooks so much time, then sink every ship illegally crossing the Pacific and douse the infection sites with napalm…” Malcolm let his head drop.

“That’s enough, Nelson!” McElroy cut a swath with both hands. “We do not do that to our people! And I brought you in here because I could always count on you!”

“And what are you counting on me for?”

“To take charge of your regiment.” McElroy dropped each word slowly.

A silent shock hit Malcolm. “You’re telling me I’m…”

“Promoted, yes. Congratulations, Major…” He spoke dejectedly.

Malcolm stood in a daze while McElroy took a heavy drag. “Mendez didn’t make it?”

McElroy nodded. “He took the teeth in Camp Humphreys…knowing he was going to get sick after the evacuation…he volunteered for the dolly. He should be with the CDC in Atlanta by now.” He remembered his cigar. “…if he’s still him right now.”

Malcolm winced. “And you want to advance me already?”

“Hellofa time to get advanced, yes.” McElroy stared into space. “Hellofa time to be alive…Securing all the Infiltration Tunnels in Korea was a near catastrophe…Each company took heavy losses, except for November.”

Malcolm huffed. “So that makes us the Dead Hunters?”

McElroy huffed and waved a finger. “For morale’s sake, you’re all still the ‘Fuckleheads’. As far as the brass is concerned, the report on how you got your people through it all is enough to convince them of one thing…your one of the few and closest things we got to a field expert on the Infection.”

This compliment was something Malcolm chose to hide his smile towards. “That would put us on the front lines when we hit the States.”

McElroy nodded. “And I need you to be responsible for assembling the platoons. We can’t risk a wave of soldiers retreating to find their families.”

“You want me coordinating the action from the Seattle Quarantine.”

“With people who thoroughly understand what’s at stake if we shirk our duty now.”

Malcolm shared the acknowledgement. “What of the soldiers who have to stay with the fleet?”

McElroy cocked his head as he thought. “We still need to maintain security in and among the navy They’ll do their part where they can cope with the Event.”

“You’re shielding them.” Malcolm responded.

“We’re reserving them in case we must salvage civilization from the Sea.”

“And what of their families in the southern states?” Malcolm asked. “They get free tickets to the Quarantine Zones?”

“…We’re taking in as many as we can.”

“Well, it’s not enough.” Malcolm responded. “I don’t feel very focused with my wife serving in a hospital out there!”

“Doctors and Nurses are VIPs for the Quarantine Zones Nelson.”

“Both she and my son will not be waiting for fate to build them a miracle wall between them and the undead!” Malcolm nearly shouted. “They are joining this Fleet. Get me?”

McElroy’s eyes turned crossed. “We have an entire army of people who aren’t able to see their families Nelson…”

“We have what’s left of an Army.” Malcolm retorted. “Make room on an AC-One-Thirty if you must; redirect a transport aircraft! You are going to bring Meryl and Connor where I can know they’re safe!”

McElroy was venting. “How many Officers, down to the Private First Classes, will be in an uproar if they find out I’m making exceptions…”

Malcolm pointed at McElroy. “You’re the one who chose to curate my whole career to this point, and I never asked for anything. You want me as you’re underling like we’re some form of Jedi! ‘Nelson, stop with the Marine bullshit. Nelson, you made Sergeant, time for Candidate School! Won’t you go to West Point, Nelson? Join my Command Staff, Nelson.’ It’s time for a return-of-favors, Colonel. Bring. Me. My. Family.”

McElroy hit the end of his cigar and his head came to a rest in one hand while he snuffed the cigar flame. “If I can…However I do it…it’s unlikely they’ll get here before we hit Seattle, alright Nelson?”

Malcolm stuffed his frustration while savoring his Colonel’s defeat. “Make sure the soldiers protecting them know who they are; and Meryl is not to be in contact with sick people. I don’t care if they run out of Medical Trainees over there; you get them out!”

As Malcolm turned and exited the Office, the reporter on C-SPAN had unsheathed his glasses to wipe away the sweat from his brow. “…We are confirming now that the amoebic infection, which the Chinese Media have dubbed ‘Yuanbo Fever’, has struck every continent following the confirmation of outbreaks in Australia…We, along with every network and the Emergency Alert System, are advising our audience to obey the four-p.m. curfew. Please lock all doors and barricade your homes. Only leave when critically necessary as any mass movement will cripple or delay Emergency Services. Report all traces of and avoid all contact with Infected individuals…” The old reporter took a deep breath. “…We are awaiting reports on evacuations from Vatican City and the status of the Pope…”