The Villa

Wu glanced at his watch. Bright blue letters glared at him, their piercing glow pricking his pupils. Two a.m. According to his friend on the maritime police force, the last coast guard patrol would have ended about thirty minutes ago. It had been over a decade since the epidemic had struck Singapore, turning its inhabitants into mindless puppets piloted by a malevolent fungus that reduced its hosts to shriveled husks. The people of Malaysia had been spared a similar fate thanks to the sea, an impenetrable barrier that prevented the infected from crossing over.

But the narrow body of water between the devastated island and its larger neighbor hadn’t been enough of an obstacle to stop Wu from taking this gamble. The corners of his lips creased into a smirk as he steered his boat toward the coastline of Singapore, the crumbling ruins of massive concrete piers looming into his vision. 

Before the infection had struck, the island city had been home to tax dodging plutocrats from all over the world. Now their priceless collections of jewelry and luxury cars gathered dust in their empty mansions with no one to take any heed of them. Well, he’d help himself to whatever he could stow away in his sampan.

Good jobs had been hard to come by ever since robots had replaced most human employees. Worse still, his wife was pregnant. He needed this windfall. Not that the people in charge cared. As they kept telling the regular people, they had the freedom to succeed or fail. Any guarantee of an assured job or income would have been an unjust imposition on the taxpayer. The familiar heat flared up inside his chest and his mouth set itself into a hard line. Rich assholes.

The throaty roar of the engine cut off with a sputter as he flicked off the ignition. Wu vaulted onto the collapsing shell of a once sprawling marina. Broken glass and mangled steel crunched under his shoes, his pulse throbbing in his ears. Exhaling a deep breath, Wu reached for the holster strapped to his trousers and yanked out his pistol. A narrow beam spilled from the tactical light attached to the muzzle of his gun, the yellow glare burning its way through the shadows, illuminating the decaying shell of what had once been boutique malls or private villas.

Most people would be scared to set foot on Singapore, but as an ex-soldier, Wu wasn’t intimidated by zombies. If any of them bothered him, he’d serve them a generous helping of lead. Wu’s brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the gloom for any sign of approaching danger. Nothing.

Picking his way through a parking lot filled with the rusting remains of abandoned cars, Wu paused, searching for a vehicle that looked like it could still work. The plan was to grab a ride and make his way to the Bukit Timah district where Singapore’s political and financial elite had once lived. There were bound to be plenty of rich pickings there.

Anticipation whipped through Wu’s pulse when his gaze landed on a Land Rover. Apart from a few dents, the car seemed serviceable enough. Sprinting toward it, Wu reached into the pouch attached to his waist and dug out the slender lock pick he’d bought from a black-market dealer. Dropping to his knees, Wu fiddled with the door’s lock mechanism and then flung it open. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he tilted his head and examined the steering wheel. No key but he’d had enough experience in commandeering cars during his military career to know what to do. Prying off the plastic panels around the steering wheel, he went  to work. Within a few minutes, the car’s engine growled to life.  Hitting the ignition, Wu sped down the road leading to the highway. His hands jerked at the steering wheel, the tires squealing against the tarmac as they sought to avoid the gaping potholes gouged into the surface. 

From the corners of his vision, he caught snatches of collapsing buildings careening on their sides, bright green creepers winding their way through the rubble, consuming the concrete. Nature was encroaching on the city that had once taken so much from it, winning back its domain house by abandoned house. Every now and then Wu’s heart would skip in his chest, his eyes sliding over the hunched forms of humans who stumbled like drunks, their swaying forms encrusted with pulsing purple blotches. Even the solid, reassuring weight of the pistol against his hip couldn’t quite dispel the jitters fluttering through his chest.

Drawing a shuddering breath, he forced his attention back to the road. Further ahead, the crumbling asphalt ribbon branched left, and Wu’s gaze followed its direction, alighting upon the low sprawling shape of a colonial bungalow. It was a modest-looking structure but there was something strangely familiar about it. He’d seen it before somewhere. The rusting iron gate that separated the house from the road caught Wu’s eye and he squinted at a sign dangling from it. The words inscribed on it filled his head, driving the air from his chest. 38 Oxley Road. This was the house of Singapore’s revered founder!

He hit the brakes, and the car jerked to a juddering halt. Leaping out, Wu sprinted to the gate and shoved it. It gave way, hinging open with a screech that sent a tingle up his spine. Wu paused for a moment, his stomach curling in on itself. He was about to pillage the former residence of the man who’d won global acclaim by turning a war-ravaged port into an obscenely wealthy financial hub. This felt almost like sacrilege.

The image of his wife flashed through Wu’s mind, her belly swollen with his child. He straightened himself, a fresh wave of resolve pumping through him. Hadn’t the founder of Singapore always exhorted the individual to rely on personal initiative to provide for himself instead of depending on the state for handouts? Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing now? Theft was only wrong when society existed, and there was no longer any to speak of in Singapore. Nope, he’d come too far to turn back now.     

Advancing toward the wooden door, he gave it a hefty kick, and it popped back with a groan that reminded him of the cry of a wounded animal. Dust swirled inside his nostrils, and his head snapped back, a violent sneeze exploding out of his chest. Wiping his tearing eyes, Wu stomped to a sturdy-looking desk parked in the corner of the room. Raising his gun, he illuminated the table with the tactical light and his heart soared. Fancy-looking fountain pens lay sprawled across the cobwebs coating the pitted wooden top.

Grabbing them, Wu stuffed the pens into his pouch. His new acquisition would fetch quite a fortune on the black market since there were plenty of wealthy people in Kuala Lumpur who’d pay a considerable sum for anything that had once been handled by Lee Kuan Yew. He’d make enough from this trip to provide his family with a good life. His wife would never have to do exhausting delivery jobs again, and his child would go to one of the best schools. A throbbing lightness swelled inside Wu. Yes, life would be good. 

His nose convulsed, and his body trembled, a sudden giddiness swirling inside his temples. Wu’s throat constricted, an icy chill filling his blood. Glistening purple motes swirled in his vision before descending on him and clinging to his skin. A bilious sourness filled his belly, and Wu’s head started to whirl.  Oh no, the spores. I’m breathing them in!

A wracking cough exploded inside him, and Wu heaved over. The glistening purple specks surrounding him coalesced into the form of a wizened old man who glowered at him with piercing eyes. The apparition’s jaw clenched as it started to speak.

‘‘You belong to me now.’’

Wu’s mouth opened in a scream, but only a faint moan tumbled out. No, you’re not the founder! He reached for the gun and levelled it at the spectre, squeezing the trigger. The house shook with the blast of the gunshot, but the diaphanous form of his tormentor simply parted to let the bullet pass through it. Icy claws of dread tore into Wu’s gut. This thing couldn’t be killed!

‘‘No, I am not. But just like him, I demand absolute obedience from my subjects. The founder did whatever it took to make his vision of Singapore a reality. The rights of the individual counted for nothing in his eyes.’’ The phantom's eyes lit up as its mouth twisted into a malevolent grin. ‘‘And I will do the same. Your sacrifice will bring me closer to achieving my dream of consuming this entire world. Thank you for the boat.’’

No! The silent cry of anguish rang inside Wu’s skull. A sea of twinkling purple swirled around him, absorbing him into its pulsating embrace. His limbs splayed like those of a marionette as he felt himself stumbling toward the door.

A voice whispered inside his head. ‘‘Time to visit Malaysia.’’