章節 153: Epidemic
A new day had begun. The streets of Gotham were rapidly coming to life, filling with numerous passersby and vehicles. The city's subway was no exception, and was now experiencing a huge influx of commuters.
The underground realm of the underworld capital had its own charm, as did the above-ground levels. Although only the older stations on Somerset Island boasted traditional elements of Gothic architecture, such as carved columns and ornate ceiling chandeliers, which made them conjure up the interior of a pompous cathedral, the other platforms also tried to preserve the gloomy spirit of the city. Massive columns, dark-colored marble or ceramic tiles, benches whose backs were decorated with intricate ornamentation, and even noisy trains emitting their characteristic gusty sound: all this helped to create an inexpressible atmosphere and emphasized the individuality of the Gotham subway, which is hard to confuse with any other.
Despite the fact that some of the New Year's holidays that fell on January first and second had been canceled out by Darkseid's invasion, the government had decided to deal with the major problems first, and then let people relax. The nearest day off was scheduled for the fifth day, when a large-scale parade would be held in honor of the superheroes, so now the civilians had to work hard for themselves and for that guy to organize everything by the appointed date. It should be noted that the extreme was only in rare cases, and strong destruction was observed only in the eastern part of Old Gotham, where Darkseid entertained with superheroes. The authorities, together with billionaire Bruce Wayne and a couple of less prominent patrons, were going to reconstruct most of the island, so the construction workers and emergency services after two days were able to return to the usual schedule, which implied several shifts.
A trio of tired construction workers were returning home from their night shift, anticipating a quick rest. They'd been working hard all those days, removing debris and creating alternate routes for traffic to get to the alien towers as little as possible. They were chatting about distracted topics, most of which, for some unknown reason, centered on the boss's new secretary, when a loud shrieking noise began to echo ahead of them.
"Oh-oh, it looks like someone has already started celebrating," one of them said unhappily. The man seemed to want to take it on his chest too, celebrating a solid bonus, but at the same time his tired body was categorically against such abuse, first of all demanding a cool shower and a warm bed, which caused unpleasant dissonance in his soul.
His acquaintances listened to the shouts, trying to pick out the words in the cacophony around them. Although the carriage was not crowded, in spite of the morning hours, it was not half-empty, which made it difficult to see.
"I think I heard a scream: "zombies," the other comrade said uncertainly, shifting closer to the door with the call terminal. - Maybe we should contact the driver?
"Jesse, don't be a pisser," the oldest of the trio, who only a short time ago had been outraged at the injustice of the world and torn between two desires, took a step toward the noise, but his friend promptly made way for him.
"Hold your horses, Woody. You're about to turn 45 and your childhood is still playing out in your ass. You've heard the eggheads talking about possible mutations. What if they're really zombies? After the fucking alien attack, I'm ready to believe any bullshit."
"Well, if it's zombies, we need to stop the zombie virus from spreading as fast as possible and keep it from biting us. Haven't you ever seen a movie? - Woody retorted with a chuckle.
"Naturally, I've been watching, and more than you, so here, - the builder unzipped his shoulder bag with the initials R. Fleischer and took out a weighty wrench and a small axe, which is convenient for breaking wooden constructions. - Let's just follow some rules...
Suddenly the crowd pitched back sharply, and more shouting broke out.
"He's got him! Gnawed him! - Elbowing people, a frightened passenger, whose jacket was splattered with drops of blood, rushed past the trio. There was a slight hesitation, and then he swung open the door to the next carriage, where he continued to sow panic.
"I've always wondered why zombie apocalypse movies rarely manage to contain the spread of the disease. All it takes is a couple of these idiots splattered with zombie blood..."
The panicked man was the first to panic, and in just a few moments the company of construction workers suddenly found themselves in a veritable crush of fleeing people, and soon the cause was revealed: an elderly gentleman in a black bloodstained suit, pale face with dark blue growths and black eyes with bright red irises was lunging at the passengers fiercely, as if deliberately trying to maim, if not kill, someone. One unfortunate man's arm was literally torn off, and the next was hit very hard in the stomach, tearing the fabric of his clothes and flesh to pull out his intestines. The two stout men who rushed at the monster in a desperate attempt to stop it didn't last ten seconds. They were quickly thrown aside with their arms unnaturally twisted.
When the train arrived at the station, the medics were already on duty with a few patrolmen, who were able to watch with great amazement as three passengers in bloody clothes staggered slightly out of the car with broken windows and moaning bodies lying here and there.
"There you go, Jesse, and you said we'd all die if we tried to attack the zombies. Well, as you can see, we survived. Hey! The zombies did it, we had nothing to do with it," Woody shouted loudly, tossing aside a wrench stained with black sludge. - And, given the situation, I'd call in some chemically protected scientists and set up a quarantine zone, not approach with handcuffs and risk infection.
***
It was decided to tackle the cultists' lair with a fresh head, so after all the discussions, Harley, Mouse, and I went home to get some rest, but when I woke up, I regretted the decision. Usually, my morning starts with coffee, an invigorating shower and meditation, sometimes with bedtime exercises with my favorite girl. But today it decided to start with the fucking zombie apocalypse news. What else can you think of when Alfred sends hospital camera footage of a skinny old man happily gnawing at the throat of a shocked nurse? Or when a deranged elementary school teacher is chasing children with foaming at the mouth and red eyes, clearly intending to snack on fresh flesh? And it's good that in the latter case the head teacher, who in his youth practiced professional boxing and is good with a fire extinguisher, was nearby. True, now the kids will need the help of a psychologist, although this can be avoided, if we remember about the sigil, reliably registered in the infopole of the planet. However, it all pales against the background of a crazy driver who managed to run over twelve people before the patrolmen finished him off, as well as an incident in the subway. There, apparently, got some elite zombie, because the number of dead exceeded ten people, and the victims with various injuries amounted to almost twenty pieces. And that's only those who were directly hit by the undead freak, and there are still collateral injuries caused by the crush. In general, the investigation of the cult of demon worshippers had to be pushed into a distant drawer, and instead to deal with an incomprehensible epidemic, which may well be another weapon of Apokolipsa.
On the way to the site of the tragedy, Oracle had sent a report of nineteen other zombie attacks that had occurred in various parts of the city. Fortunately, they were less epic than the one in the subway, and the virus, if it is a virus at all, seems to be transmitted in some tricky way, or has a very long incubation period, since the residents bitten along the way have shown no signs of infection so far. Doctors have already had time to examine the dead bodies and take tests from the survivors, but so far they could not say anything clear, except that on the surface of the skin of the infected for some unknown reason, numerous growths with pus are formed, and a shocking dose of adrenaline enters the blood, which raises the pain threshold and removes muscle restrictions. Naturally, such a load does not pass without a trace, and the life of the infected becomes severely limited, as the body works to exhaustion, giving out its maximum. This, by the way, is a little bit happy: if the zombie apocalypse still happens, it will be enough to sit somewhere for a couple of months (for example, on a remote tropical island in the company of several beauties), until the infected stupidly die, having exhausted the resources of the body.
As I continued to review the information sent to me and left Harley in charge of the transportation, I tried to find any connection between the infected, but it turned out that all the cases were unique. Really, what could connect a young elementary school teacher, a simple office clerk, a cab driver, a mall security guard, a State Department worker, and a newspaper vendor? Even the locations of the attacks were, at first and second glance, completely random, but I noticed that six of the locations were concentrated around a single neighborhood in west Gotham, specifically the Village District, while the other seventeen were spread out in an even layer across the city. It was worth noting that Alfred had run down the residential addresses of the infected. It wasn't so good, of course, since only seven people lived near the Village, but even that could be a good clue.
It was time to think about quarantine, because some of the military could be safely transferred from the security of the otherworldly towers, but I decided to save that option for later. Moreover, I have serious suspicions that the quarantine, given the mysterious cult of demon worshippers, is unlikely to help contain the contagion.
The first point of the route was a cordoned-off subway station, where there were the most dead and injured. Apparently, Harley and I weren't the only ones watching horror movies. Even at the approach we were met by several vans with mobile laboratories, white modular tents connected by short passages, people in yellow biological defense suits and armed guards. Unfortunately, there were no familiar detectives around, and I didn't want to waste my time on any bureaucracy with conversations, as well as masquerading as Bats, so we got inside under the cover of illusion, having previously whistled a couple of suitable suits from one van. I suspected some kind of obsession, but that was no reason to neglect my own safety, risking infection with an unknown virus.
After hacking the cameras and slipping past the not-so-vigilant guards, we found ourselves inside the mobile quarantine zone. The tents were crowded because of the scientists scurrying about, so I had to work hard to keep the spell going. The diamonds flowed like water through my fingers until we reached the morgue, where I was finally able to use Taboo's magic and remove the passage from my perception so that we wouldn't be disturbed. The thing would last about ten minutes, but that was more than enough time if my hunch was correct.
There were numerous bodies lying on the couches, carefully packed in black bags. Having opened a couple of them, our duo was able to confirm the attacker's outstanding strength, as some of the passengers' limbs were naturally torn out, which is not so easy to do, unlike ordinary fractures. But we didn't infiltrate this place to study the common inhabitants. At the very end of the room there was a separate small room with its own filtration system, where the main exhibit lay.
The corpse's face was a mess of meat and bone that the medics had put together, which wasn't particularly surprising, since, according to the reports they'd seen, the wrench and axe had been at work. The rest of the body was much less damaged, but it still had an unpleasant yellowish hue and was covered with pustules and dark corpse stains, as if the moment of death had occurred a day ago. There were also bloody hematomas in some places due to muscle tears and numerous biopsy marks.
"Mr. J, I've never doubted your genius, but maybe you shouldn't have come to the quarantine zone to look at a corpse. The Oracle would have sent a full autopsy report with all the details anyway," Harley said apprehensively as I pressed my eye lightly to check for a reaction.
"Sweetie, unfortunately, not everything in this world is subject to science. Well, at least not to our level of science. Maybe somewhere on Apocalypse they could also figure out the cause of the infection," I said thoughtfully, activating my true vision.
There was nothing remarkable on the first level, nor on the second, but on the third the world began to bloom with colors, and quite definite ones at that. Barely visible black and red threads wove around the victim's heart and brain. It was hard to see them, but I had a rough idea of what I was looking for.
"Hmmm..." the blonde looked at the body puzzled, and then focused her gaze on the dark corpse stains that shouldn't be so bright a couple hours after death. - Come on, possessed!
"Uh-huh. Not just an obsessive, but a gifted obsessive.
"So that's why he was so quick?"
"Probably. The demon not only removed the limitations of the body, but also drew power from a magical source, increasing physical characteristics. However, he did it completely ineffectively, and people were just lucky that the gifted one was not very strong, otherwise there would have been many times more victims."
"I see... Wait. How did you know it was gifted? I remember Zee's lectures. A demonic presence can last even 24 hours in the case of an ordinary demon, but the corpse should not have an aura that can be used to determine the source. The only exceptions are powerful spellcasters, because their entire body is saturated with energy."
"Oh, that's easy. I read Alfred's dossier. Our new acquaintance, in addition to his main job at the ritual center, also provided magical services to the public: removing spoil, casting the evil eye, looking for people by photo, brewing love drinks and other magical nonsense."
"Is that really allowed? It seems that mages try not to shine in front of ordinary people. Well, it used to be," she finished uncertainly, realizing that after Darkseid's attack and my magnificent performance, which had been broadcast to the entire globe, a lot of things had changed, so it was no longer unrealistic to see a freak in tight tights and a mask going shopping or just walking around.
"Oh, that's the fun part. His powers were apparently too insignificant to have a clear manifestation, but they were enough to fool the people. Still, one of the ingredients of a successful spell cast is will for a reason. A lot of will, a good imagination, and a drop of mana. In the end, the enemy is tormented for three days in the arms of a white friend. Well, or the usual vitamin cocktail suddenly begins to work as a remedy for impotence. There are many variants, as long as you have enough mana."
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