Chapter 81: The Curtain Falls – II

Pandora embraced the silence as the sun quickly approached the western horizon.

Its golden hue reflected over Dmitri’s sullen face. On the ground, corpses of the special zombies were gathered. Limbs thrown wherever they fit. Heads leaning on angles that were borderline impossible of the reality. Torsos twisted in what way it pleased.

“Echo Actual, this is Echo Two. Do you copy?”

Dmitri reached for his communications device; his gaze fixed intently on the pit.

“Give me a sitrep, Echo Two.”

“Southern portion has been scoured. No signs of HVT or zeds. We got some large footprints though. Might be Big Foot’s lair.”

“Copy, Echo Two. RTB in five minutes. Sun’s going low.”

“Roger your last. Echo Two, out.”

Radio turned silent. Dmitri turned to the group of Army Soldiers, arms full of zombie corpses brought from the distance.

“Burn them down once all corpses are gathered. We don’t want any infection going around here.”

“Yes, platoon leader.”

Pandora District could be utilized by the Commander for future operations. An area that was easy to defend, and hard to push through.

The river blockaded the southern approach. High walls spanned across the eastern and western regions. And a large plain stretched over the northern direction, separated from the city proper by more than a kilometer or two.

Inside, mansions were evenly spaced, giving enough room for additional structures. Repurposing buildings wouldn’t require much effort, especially with the lack of zombie presence around.

Amidst his futuristic thoughts, a set of applause rang lowly to his right. Dmitri lowered his hand and shifted his attention.

“Well done,” Tyrus approached the pit, eyes scanning each corpse as if they were lab mice. “Ah, what a shame. If these troubled kids weren’t so hot-blooded, they could have been good specimen for HELIX III.”

“You recognize them?” Dmitri asked.

Of course I do, Tyrus internally mused, but he knew Dmitri probed a different question.

“More than what these agents have written on their profile,” Tyrus smiled, grabbing a set of sterile gloves out of his pocket and crouched.

Johannes frowned but didn’t say much. His interest lay more about what Tyrus wanted to say next.

Tyrus went over the first corpse—the screamer.

“Poor Stephanie,” Tyrus shook his head, a hint of melancholy mixed on the tone. “You were graced with your voice, a pop-idol talent. A house of artists, trained in every matrix of the singing art.”

He tapped the slick skin under her jaw.

“Mr. Soldier, have you ever wondered how a human transforms into a zombie?”

“Not fond of the science behind it,” Dmitri replied.

“The shard carried the world’s doom, an alien virus of unknown origins,” Tyrus continued, indifferent to Dmitri’s rejection. “It attaches into our five senses and alters our biological transcription. Such a dangerous but marvelous work of science. If this was an ingredient of HELIX III’s successor, the heights it could have reached may have long surpassed the heavens!”

“In English,” Dmitri reminded, brows furrowing about the scientific nonsense.

“The virus is as miraculous as HELIX III. It exaggerates what is present, but sadly, our bodies couldn’t contain its potency.”

“You’re telling me this virus works the same as those pills?” Johannes suddenly felt his worldview changing at that moment.

“The pills are the stable form,” Tyrus stood up, stretching his legs. “The virus is not. The body rots until only a fraction of it remains—or rather, what survived from a mass biological matter collapse.”

“You seemed to have researched it long before,” Dmitri became suspicious.

“Incorrect,” Tyrus laughed. “I have only inferenced my observations from my experience. Look closely.”

He pointed at the screamer’s corpse.

“She was once a singer, reinforced by HELIX III. The voice became a weapon and your squad took its power in full force. Tell me, have you seen a more complete body of a zombie than this?”

Dmitri paused, observing the screamer again.

The skin wasn’t as pale or rotten—it was intact in most places, and supple in some areas.

Tyrus moved toward the sprawled runner, the one whose legs were still half-tensed as if ready to spring.

“Ronnie,” he continued. “National track champion. HIs family bred speed as if it was their sole auth.”

His gaze flicked to the tendons, the calves, and the warped hip joints.

“Observe the fiber density. The mutation didn’t make him ’strong’—it made him efficient. Short bursts, violent acceleration, and minimal hesitation. The dream of most sprinters—turning a body into a missile.”

Dmitri, Johannes, and Evelyn followed around as if they were his laboratory assistants.

Tyrus stopped at the corpse half-lost in the greenery, trying to disappear into the leaves despite being dead.

“This one wasn’t famous,” Tyrus said flatly. “A night guard, but one I can still recall on my head. Paid to watch the streets, trained to move silently. He didn’t want to disturb the young masters and missus.”

He angled his head, as if listening to a memory.

“Proximity pushed sensory adaptation. Pigment, dermal texture, muscle response. It resulted to camouflage and patience—an ambush predator. Not built for crowds, but one who takes one’s throat and vanishes after a strike.”

Dmitri looked at the corpse a little more. The last stalker he encountered didn’t enjoy basking under sunlight. Yet one could be found here, playing alongside his soldiers like a hidden monkey.

His eyes didn’t linger for long and moved to the last—the shredded thrower. Its right arm was disproportionate, shoulder cracking from the .50’s barrage, and the rest of the mangled body lagging behind its own mutation.

“Alan, my boy,” Tyrus said, tone almost bored. “Shot-putter, one of a kind.”

He motioned at the swollen arm.

“HELIX III favored asymmetry on his case. Bone reinforcement, tendon thickening, explosive output. To throw sections of walls is a feat that could have been worthy of my research. He doesn’t calculate distance no longer, but the impact of his throws.”

After they made rounds of each unique special, Dmitri stopped and stared at Tyrus.

“If the virus is as potent as you say, why haven’t you turned, but they did?” He rebutted.

“Interesting take,” Tyrus nodded. “But you missed a great factor that contributed to this. HELIX III increased one’s resistance against the alien virus, but what if something pierced through that so-called resistance?”

His fingers formed a circular shape; edges jagged like a rock.

“You’re talking about those meteorite shards?” Dmitri caught up.

“You are truly someone with a multitude of experience,” Tyrus giggled. “These meteorite shards exponentially drove the virus’s effects. Too close, and you’ll transform faster than you can imagine. I have once stumbled against such a mysterious object, and in there, I felt an indescribable wave that distorted my mind.”

Psychic aura, Dmitri loudly spoke inside his mind. It aligns with our experience as well.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Johannes and Evelyn were at a loss. “What are these meteorite shards? How mysterious is it?”

“Experience is the best teacher,” Tyrus halted his steps, glancing at Johannes’ ever curious eyes, “Are you sure you want to experience that?”

“I’m just asking,” Johannes snorted. “I don’t want to turn into a zombie yet.”

“Then you better stay away from these shards. They glow in pink radiance, pulsing like a heartbeat.”

“What if I don’t see them?” Johannes asked.

“You don’t see it?” Tyrus explained. “The shard will make you feel it instead. You will hear voices screaming into your head. And if it lasts, it’ll convince you to change.”

Tyrus leaned over to Johannes, hands stretching out to scare.

“You cunt, stay away from me!”

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