Elsewhere (Abuja)
Taiwo Betiku fiddled with the collar of his pristinely starched white shirt watching as the makeup artists prepared the president for his speech. He looked worn out and harried, with great black bags under his eyes. Taiwo felt a little sorry for him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
There’d been numerous times he’d envied men with power, especially men with riches, but now, as he looked at him; he was glad he was just an ordinary citizen.
President Mahmud Abdusalam turned and waved him over. Taiwo sighed and walked over.
“You look terrible.”
Taiwo chuckled. “You don’t look that good yourself sir.”
“I know __” His tired sigh came out in a breathless whoosh.
“When did you last sleep sir?”
“Thirty six hours ago ___ and counting.”
There was a pause.
“What are you going to tell the people?”
“Not sure yet __ I’ll make something up. I always do.” There was something fatalistic about the way he said it.
He started to walk away followed by seven members of his security team. Taiwo let him reach the end of the corridor before he asked the question.
“Sir?”
“Yes?” He said turning around.
“What about General Mako? Is he still fighting the infected?”
The president nodded and walked off to give his speech. Taiwo watched him till he disappeared from view and entered a side room a few feet to his left to watch the proceedings.
The landscape was sloppy and uneven. Three dozen soldiers crouched behind a large cluster of rocks piled on top of each other. A tall bulky looking man stood in front of the pack. He had binoculars aimed at the valley the slope overlooked. A small settlement filled its tiny confines. The slope they were on and another adjoining one nestled the settlement.
To the left was a wide path, one of two ways out of the valley. Hundreds of red glows marched on the wide path heading towards the settlement. Mako’s eyes grew grim __ the infected were on the move. They could sense the uninfected.
“They’re heading to the settlement. What do we do sir?”
Mako lowered the binoculars turning to face the muscled man behind him.
“We engage of course. Let’s move.”
More than two dozen rifles were cocked at once. The soldiers raced down the hill towards the horde.
An old man in his sixties staggered out of the shadowy confines of his dingy hut. He scratched his right butt cheek absentmindedly as he made for the bushes to the right. His bladder was threatening to explode. He knew the ten shots of palm wine he’d had earlier had been a mistake. Well that was what he got for his stubbornness. He was barely able to get his junk out of his black ragged trousers before he started squirting out his load.
He was so intent on what he was doing he didn’t see the long line of red dots in front. It wasn’t until he heard the crunch of more than two dozen footsteps that he looked up shocked to see the slurring, staggering forms heading his way.
The bright half moon slid out from behind the clouds showering the landscape with silvery light. Their scarred and extremely terrifying faces came into view. Their skins were blacker than tar and red greenish viscous liquid dribbled from their mouths. They looked at him with eyes that were red glows of hostile intent. He knew the look, one word encompassed it. DEATH!
The ones in front broke into a sprint. He yelled tearing towards the door of his hut. He glanced back shocked to see they were about two paces behind. His eyes grew grim. He wasn’t going to make it. The bang seemed to come from far away. The infected reaching for his shoulder dropped like a log its head a red pulpy mass.
Ten others quickly followed. They dropped like flies before they reached him and in seconds he was inside the hut slamming the door shut behind him.
The uproar in the village grew. Villagers poured out of their homes in droves. They were herded in the opposite direction by a group of fifty soldiers. Another fifty engaged the infected streaking into the settlement.
A lone figure stood on the slope Mako and his men just left. He had large binoculars aimed at the horizon beyond the path. The black pupils that stared into the glass dilated and widened, in fear.
He raised the walkie talkie in the other hand to his lips. “Sir __” He stammered.
“What???” Mako’s voice sounded sharp and harried.
“We can’t save the village sir!”
“Why not?”
“There is a horde coming. We haven’t the numbers to repel them.”
A long sigh poured from the speaker of the walkie talkie. “Thank you for letting me know, over and out.”
The walkie talkie was swiped out of his hand by a hard fist. He ducked the long shiny incisors by inches and put a bullet right between the infected man’s eyes.
Two more surged forward with long arms extended. The long frizzy looking hair of both infected women made them look like hags out of a terrible horror movie.
He squeezed the trigger yelling out in alarm when it gave two loud clicks. The chamber was empty. He ducked low, grabbed the first one by the knees and tossed her over his shoulder like a bag of rice. He threw his elbow forward ramming it into the throat of the second. It gasped, the blow sending it back a few paces.
Pulling the sidearm off his belt he squeezed off two shots. The head exploded. He swung with the same motion squeezing off another two bursts. The second head became a circle stain on the ground.
He took several steps back ducking under the low roof of a small veranda. His cell phone came out in seconds.
“Yes General Mako?”
“We need an airstrike.”
“Not sure that’s possible __ the planes are engaging __”
“I don’t care where they’re engaging. We need one now.”
There was a long pause.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Don’t make me call the president. If that strike is not authorized the people here will die.”
He hung up and shoved another magazine into his rifle his eyes drifting over the rapidly deteriorating situation in front. His eyes grew hard as he leapt back into the fray squeezing burst after burst of bullets.