Virestorm-Let the adventure begin

Prologue

September 22, 1918, Vilosplad,  Russia

The gray air filled with the moans of those still alive. The barely surviving were carrying the dead, as they were coughing and wheezing through the rain. The old and the young already gone. Those lucky enough to pass in the early days were buried with respect. Now, large unmarked holes marred the landscape. Filled with the dead in the tattered clothes they ended their lives in. No one left to clean them and dress them. No one left to attend to their final religious rites. The town priest, old and weak before the plague, died soon after the second wave of disease. The third wave though, was the worst. Now they we’re losing the healthy ones. The ones who were supposed to rebuild the community, write about their lives and to remake their future. Just one more blow after a decade mostly filled with war and hate.

Anatoly gazes upon his fellow villagers, or rather, what was left of them and thought “Will there even be one to remember who we were?” The pain felt too great. In the past weeks he had buried his wife, his children, even his grand children. And now he could feel the disease coursing through his own body. And now, even he shakes with fevers, a racking cough, and fatigue. Oh the fatigue. He used to be able to carry two sacks of flour on each shoulder and walk miles. Now, even the weight of his wasted self he can barely carry. No, it can’t be long before it’s his turn for that big hole of hell in the ground. Maybe, if there is something resembling a god, he will be with his lovely Ana once again.

From a hilltop little Ivan watches. No, he won’t go near them. His mother sent him away when she heard about the disease from the next town. She sent him away with bags of barley, dried meat and fruit. She told him not to come down to the village. No matter how loud the people screamed, no matter how much he missed his family and friends. He was to stay away, hide, and she implored him don’t come back until the winter comes. After the ground has frozen it might be safe. “But not a moment sooner.”

Ivan can see an old man shuffle to the graves. He stands over them for a long minute. Swaying to and fro. The rain picks up and its hard to see and then the old man is gone. Ivan turns around and hikes back into the hills, to his makeshift home, to wait for winter to come.

Chapter 1

Spring 2008, Siberia

Two men step out of a black Mercedes sedan. One, very Russian looking. He is heavy, short, thick necked and thick waisted. He scans the horizon with his small dark eyes and permanent scowl. The other man is  tall and very thin. Olive skin and large brown eyes set him apart from the usual visitors here. He is very Middle Eastern looking and very out of place. He walks around to the trunk and removes a heavy sack. He turns to the Russian and with a tilt of his head gestures toward an old man, stoop shouldered in tattered brown clothing. The Russian walks over to the old man and they begin to talk in Russian. They seem to be negotiating. There is some finger pointing. The Russian looks at the old man, angry now. He looks as if he might break him in two. Finally, with a grunt the Russian pulls out a fold of bills. The old man stares at the crisp American dollars as he peals off a few and hands them to the old man. The old man seems wary but gestures them forward.

All three depart the road and hike along a meadow path. The grass is bright green, the meadow erupting in wild flowers. They travel over a hill. Down below is a collection of crumbling buildings. The old man stops. He will not go any further. He points to what is left of the old village. His rheumy eyes look up at the two men. He waits. The Russian reaches into his pocket. He begins to remove his wallet when a loud crack erupts. The old man falls backward with a hole between his eyes and a look of total acceptance. The Middle Eastern man puts his gun away, puts the strap of the sack on his shoulder and begins to hike down the hill toward the abandoned village.

The two men enter the remains of a very old village. The buildings have been abandoned long ago, the roofs caved in and the fences collapsed. They continue down what must have been at one time the main road. The road makes a turn to the right and behind a crumbled fence is a barely visible marker. They begin hiking through brush and bramble over ancient and toppled headstones. Toward the back is a large mound. There is no marker. The Russian turns to the Middle Easterner and nods. The slender man sets down the sack, unzips it and begins pulling out items. He puts on a plastic suit, gloves, mask and goggles. Next he removes a shovel and begins to dig.  The earth is soft now that the frost has melted and the ground is still moist. He digs rapidly through the soft earth and then the ground becomes hard again. He has reached the layer where the frost never melts. He pulls out a pick and swings at the ground to loosen the earth. Hard clumps come up and after toiling for a little while he starts to see shreds of gray and brown cloth. He slows his pace and begins to pick at the earth with finer tools. Soon he has uncovered two bodies one lying across the other. He gets very serious now. He carefully removes the clothing from the torso of a man. He gently cleans the soil away.

For Ahmed knows that great respect must be paid to the dead. Even the infidels are to be treated with respect, even those abandoned and mistreated by their own. He turns to the East and makes a nearly silent prayer before resuming his task. He removes a scalpel and makes an incision on the dead man’s right side. He cuts through the rib cage and inserts a device to spread the ribs. Next he reaches into his sack and removes a thermos looking container. He opens the container by releasing two latches and inside is a second container with a screw top.

Next he changes his gloves and dons two layers. He reaches into the chest and feels the hard frozen lung tissue. Perfect, he thinks to himself. He removes a new knife with a long serrated edge and cuts into the tissue. He is able to remove a piece the size of a tennis ball. He looks at it in the light and can see that the dark brown tissue is filled with a thick frozen yellow liquid. He carefully quarters the flesh and places it in the container. He screws the cap on and applies an adhesive tape around the lid. Next he washes the receptacle down with pure alcohol. Again he changes his gloves. He then places the container into its parent and seals the latches. He reaches into his bag and removes an object that looks like a squat cylinder with a thread top. He screws this into the thermos and twists a valve. A hiss is emitted and the exterior of the thermos quickly frosts over. He puts on a pair of insulated gloves and places this into a collapsible insulated bag that he removed from the sack. Next he gently places a white sheet over the body and says a prayer for Allah to accept the soul of this infidel for the sacrifice he has made for the nation of G-d.

He then covers the bodies with the dirt. When he is done he removes his protective gear. He asks the Russian to turn away and he then removes his clothing. He puts all of this in a pile and soaks it with lighter fluid and ignites it. When the fires is out and he has put on fresh clothes he lays down a prayer mat and facing East prays thanks to Allah for this great day.

The men hike back to the Mercedes and depart.