The gas mask is definitely too tight. When the three soldiers fly over Istanbul aboard the camouflage helicopter, the condensation almost stops Cem from being able to see Galata Tower. But the trooper at the military base emphasized that it had to be that tight. The oxygen was not yet breathable and more than ten seconds in contact could infect you to the point of no return, even with the newest batches of vaccines. The pilot informs the two men that the only possible place to land is the terrace of Demirören shopping mall. They know that landing on ground is considered a no-go due to the possibility of sudden attacks. The landing is smooth. The two men jump out the helicopter and run, keeping their head down as the helicopter flies away. No time to admire Istanbul from high up. The two soldiers quickly kick out the terrace door and go down the stairs with their rifles up and infrared sensors on.
The soldiers get out and the noon light blinds them for a second. When their eyes have adjusted, Cem sees something he hasn’t seen in all his life: Istiklal street totally empty. Both men spend more than an advisable amount of time admiring the deserted avenue. Cem recalled his childhood, when the street was always full of life – crowded 24/7. The street now seemed frozen in time and the only giveaway of the outbreak was that all the windows were broken and the shops looted. The place where Cem used to buy trousers as a teenager was now just a skeleton with the indirim signs lying on the ground among broken glass.
The two men advance carefully through the wide street covering each other at an excruciatingly slow pace. They walk from their left side where the shadow of the building gives a clearer vision, but not too close to the windows of the shops. The imposing door of Galatasaray Lisesi and the menacing metal fences lie on the ground and the green inside grows wildly. A Turkish flag waves lonely on one of the sides. Several police barriers are piled up, with some also spread across the pavement. As they turn along a curve, they see the old nostalgic tram stopped in the middle of the long street. The old red tram that once regularly went up and down the two kilometers of main commercial street of Istanbul was now motionless. The two men advance towards it passing by an intact simit cart. Both men look at each other, with telling expressions.
The other soldier orders Cem to check inside the red tram. Cem slowly climbs one step at the time, conscious that anything can appear from behind the seats. He carefully retracts the foldable metal gate. The floor is littered with broken glass that cracks under his steps. It is too much noise. Too much noise. From outside the other soldier makes a gesture and Cem immediately stops. Another gesture indicates for him to step back and slowly get out of the tram. Again, steps on the floor. Too much noise. Too much noise. A slight shake of the tram. Must be the wind.
The shake continues. It comes from the ground. Like a herd of bulls. Cem takes his head out of the door and the view is surrealistic.A horde of decomposed bodies running towards them. They can see the scars and the red flesh through the hairy bodies, the fast feline moves. The two men freeze. Cem screams at the top of his lungs. The other soldier runs towards the tram. He turns around and reaches for the door. Cem extends his arm as the horde surround the tram. The soldier disappears gobbled down by the horde. The screams of the man are drowned by the hissing of the creatures. One of them enters the tram. Cem shoots at it and it falls down. A second enters and Cem shoots it. One after another enter the tram and Cem takes them all down. They also try to reach him through the window spots with their hairy arms and sharp claws. Cem steps back until the end of the tram. He breathes heavily, can’t see shit. He takes off the mask. A creature holds him from behind and tries to drag him out of the carriage. Cem shoots it in the face. From the back window Cem climbs to the top of the tram.
He stands up. The cables are gone and the façade is also too far way to jump to, so there is no way out. The horde surrounds the tram and shakes it savagely. Cem lays down and takes out a lasso from his backpack. He throws it from the side of the carriage and after some trial and error, surrounds the neck of one of the creatures. He pulls up and he hears its neck crack. The strangled creature revolts until it doesn’t. Cem drags it up to the roof with immense effort. He takes a clamp and opens his mouth. The long feline teeth smell like putrefied meat. He extracts one of the fangs without hesitation and the blood stains its mouth. Cem cleans his face with the sleeve, takes an empty syringe and stabs it in the jugular vein. The creature wakes up and bites him in the shoulder. Cem shoots him in the head. Cem empties the full clip. Finally, the creature dies. He kicks it off of the tram.
Cem is bitten. He has only a few minutes to inject himself with antidote before it travels too far through his circulatory system. Cem reaches his backpack. Where is the antidote? Where is it?! He searches again. No. He checks his trouser pocket and finds it. Takes the capsule and the sterilized injection and proceeds to unload the charge into the syringe. He injects it in his shoulder near the bloody bite. He lies down on the roof of the tram, exhausted. He speaks into his walkie-talkie, “I Have it. I have the sample. But you’ll have to do some interesting maneuvers to take me to the base.” Radio silence. White noise. “Two minutes,” finally erupts from the other side of the radio. He exhales, relieved.
The tram shakes again. And again. And again. Cem holds the side of the roof. The horde shakes the tram and the carriage starts to tip onto its side. The last thing Cem sees is his beloved Istiklal street empty. Just before the horde devours him.
