Ripper's World: The Blight

By Peter Salisbury

Book 1 in the Ripper's World post-apocalyptic series. Ripper Lee, vintage fighter, saw the world collapse under a viral blight inflicted by the pharmaceutical giant Viral Benefits Corp. He was amongst the survivors who escaped from the mounds of the dead in the remains of the old world. Through the smoke the lucky ones emerged into a new world of rampant profit and corrupt corpies. Did Ripper have any reason to remain true to his ideals of fair play?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Salisbury
• Release date: Apr 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310470233

Peter Salisbury

I am a life-long fan of science fiction, and so when I had an idea for my first story, I wasn't surprised that it was in that genre. The first book took me ten years to complete, but I've got a little quicker since. I am pleased to say that I now have over thirty books published in my name. What next? So far I haven't run short of ideas for new stories, so there are several projects in various stages of completion, and I hope to be publishing the next story before too long, so please subscribe to my alerts. My profile picture is a portrait of the author as a young man, painted by my daughter Charlotte Salisbury who has also contributed to several of my book covers. Professional background In the 1970s I studied Chemistry at university and then spent over thirty years in classrooms across England teaching almost anything but Chemistry, including Photography, Communications Skills, General Science, Computing, and Information and Communications Technology. In the 1990s I spent ten years writing abstracts of chemical patents. This was a most exacting process but very rewarding to be reading about the very latest inventions in the field, and the abstracts were distributed world-wide to research scientists by subscription. Articles of mine have been published in magazines and I have written assignments used for assessing Communications Skills for a major international Examination Board. After retiring early this century I began writing in earnest.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Fight Night

Ripper frowned as he entered the ring. He was up against some young hopeful again and his problem would be to make his opponent look like a real contender long enough for the networks to generate some advertising revenue. He had to consider the local crowd, too. They needed to go home thinking they'd got value from their tickets, that was the way the fight game worked.

The middle-aged fighter lifted his towel to mop his brow. It was an old trick Ripper used as a cover to check over the audience. He saw the usual mixture of ruthless corpies with their mistresses, and thugs who'd end up in a fight themselves after the match.

Ripper's frown deepened. The crowd was too quiet. His opponent, Griff Slammer, was stalking back and forth in his corner, punching the air, but it wasn't generating the expected level of interest. He stopped to lean over the ropes and speak to a thin guy in a suit and dickie-bow accompanied by a statuesque blond. Ripper guessed from the glances in his direction that the young contender was talking up how he was going to tear Ripper to pieces. Slammer seemed to be assuming that Ripper was going to stand still and let him.

Ripper had seen the thin guy in the audience before with the same woman. Normally, the guy would have responded in some way, depending who he was betting on. On this occasion he simply nodded and shrugged, his face an unmoving mask. Like the rest of the crowd, he appeared to be preoccupied.

The announcer climbed into the ring, taking his cue from the network floor manager and facing the network boys' cameras. Ripper stood up and shook himself. His head was clear, but he felt the same dissociation the crowd sensed in themselves.

'On my left, I give you Griff Slammer, a fiery young fighter hungry for a title, and on my right, the veteran of hundreds of fights, Ripper Lee.' As he extended his arms towards each fighter, the announcer's voice drew out Ripper's last name to indicate what an exciting match was to follow. The expected barrage of cheering, jeering and catcalls was curiously subdued and the announcer withdrew. In a low voice he spoke to the two men in the ring as he ducked between the ropes, 'Better make it a good one. It'll be the last for a while.'

As the announcer climbed out, a Fight League exec clambered in. The gold chain and badge hanging around the shoulders of his pin-stripe jacket gave him a veneer of importance. He quickly gave each fighter the once-over, checking boots and gloves to ensure they were fight-legal. 'OK, you're good. On the bell, boys.'

The atmosphere of distraction was infectious, to Ripper seconds passed like the slow drip of a tap, so that he was surprised by the clang of the bell. Ripper had done his research, watching video files of Griff's previous fights. His technique, Ripper had discovered, was to fly at his opponent and go for a knock down in the first or second round. It was a technique which used bravado to cover lack of experience, and it didn't go down well with the networks. Boy did Slammer have a lot to learn if he thought it would work on a wily old bird like Ripper. True to form, Griff shot out of his corner, aiming a rapid succession of kicks and punches at Ripper's more vulnerable parts.

Ripper dodged, parried and rolled with the blows. Any one of them could have knocked him down, if he had allowed them to land. Calculating each move and counter-move with instinctive precision, he avoided the full force of Slammer's onslaught. In return he stung the young fighter with painful, bruising jabs and thrusts designed take the edge off his attack.

'Six, seven, eight…' The fog in Ripper's head cleared as he realised the count was against him. Griff had managed to land a kick to Ripper's jaw. It had only been a glancing blow but it reminded Ripper that Slammer wasn't someone to get complacent about. Ripper was up by 'nine', and already moving out of Griff's range as he whirled at Ripper with a drop-kick. Right on the bell, Griff's miscalculated kick missed Ripper by so little that Ripper felt the air rush past his temple. Griff's lip curled in anger but a second later his jaw clamped tight as a jolt of pain stabbed into the nerves of his spine where it had connected with the thinly padded floor of the ring.

The less experienced fighter spent most of the intermission in his corner having his back massaged. When the Round Two bell clanged, he came out more slowly and tried to keep his distance from Ripper. That was where Ripper's skill came to the fore, he aimed kicks and punches at Griff but ensured that they were blocked or deflected. By the end of the round, Ripper had given Griff time for some of his vitality to return.

Intermissions ran as long as the rounds to allow for the network ad breaks. The live audience were not spared, as large screens on each wall of the auditorium ran ads, the sound for which was piped through the PA system.

A ribbon of white text on a broad red background ran in a continuous loop along the bottom of each screen, carrying slogans for the Viral Benefits Corporation:

'The future begins tomorrow.'

'Viral Benefits, the way to a healthy life.'

The first and last ads in the break were for Viral Benefits Corp, with Lorrayne Trent the CEO reminding everyone of the protocol for tomorrow's global release of the cure-all virus. Viral Benefits Day, or as Ripper constantly changed it to under his breath, 'Global Infection Day' was to be an international holiday, observed in every country on every continent.

The rest of the fight was something of a blur when Ripper tried to recall it in the changing room. What he remembered most was the extraordinary way that Griff had dropped his guard when a whole row of the audience threw down their programs and left at the same time. Ripper had practically no option but to use the opportunity to knock him out.

It wasn't late when Ripper left by the rear exit from the auditorium. Griff Slammer had been whisked away in a stretch limo ten minutes previously. Ripper shifted his holdall on his shoulder, pulled up his collar and walked through the drizzle to the end of the alley.

Chapter 2: The Night Before The World Died

Ripper's cheap but reliable man with a van was waiting for him at the corner of the alley and Main Street. The van was white with red lettering:

Derek's Van

If you can lift it, I can shift it

The van's owner earned a modest living from small removals but he was always available to pick up his old buddy, Ripper.

'How'd it go?' Derek said, powering away as Ripper strapped himself in and settled back into the passenger seat.

Ripper grinned and dipped his hand into the black and silver holdall he called his fight bag. Pushing aside his fight boots, shorts and gloves, he lifted out a faded red and white plastic wallet with a broken zip. It had started out as a First Aid kit but Ripper had added to it over the years, so that now it had medicaments and equipment for practically any minor injury. He tore open a fresh, sterile pack of medicated pads, which he dabbed on the cuts and bruises he could reach while being driven along. Impregnated with a specially formulated mixture, the pads soothed and cleansed at the same time. 'Nothing unexpected,' he said.

Derek chuckled as he slowed for a red light. 'Except for the kick at the end of Round One. Thought that Griff What's-his-name had got you with that one.'

'You watched it?'

Derek grinned and slapped the steering wheel with the palm of his right hand. 'Sure, don't I always? But what happened halfway through Six? That Slammer kid just let his fists drop.'

'Yeah,' Ripper laughed. 'Didn't you see? Half the audience up and left.'

Derek shook his head.

'Nah, I suppose they wouldn't show that on the networks.'

Ripper liked the way he could rely on having at least one fan in the shape of Derek. He was invariably cheerful, and after some of the lighter bouts they'd stop for a beer on the way. Tonight, though, they each wanted to get back to their own homes; Ripper to his bachelor flat, and Derek to his wife and child. Derek was a regular, easy-going sort of guy. He shrugged off the corpies attempts to make him ambitious, to aspire to 'make more of himself'. What Ripper liked about him was that he was content with what he had: a loyal wife and a sensible daughter.

Ripper watched Derek drive. His brown eyes calmly studied the road ahead as his hands held the steering wheel in a relaxed grip. One elbow of his old corduroy jacket rested on the open windowsill. He wore dark trousers and unassuming shoes, a plain shirt with neither logo nor words. Combined with his mid-length, brown hair and his unlined features, he looked to be exactly what he was: just like some kid's dad. Although it didn't look that way, his appearance was carefully contrived to make him practically invisible, an unidentifiable Mr Average. With such a disguise, he easily passed unnoticed in a crowd, be it in a bar or at a bout. Such a skill had proved extremely useful in Ripper's somewhat chequered past, where the pair had needed to make a quick exit from one overheated situation or another.

It was a skill that Ripper was convinced he also possessed, but only outside the ring. He firmly believed that when he wasn't being paid to fight, avoiding trouble was far better than allowing trouble to find him. Ripper preferred leather to Derek's cords and denim but again his outfit was subdued. Not for him the flashy collars and cuffs, the thick, glinting gold chains of the younger fighters who needed minders when they went out socialising. When trouble picked Ripper out, he could transform himself into something normally only seen at the end of a paid fight: a blur of kicks and punches. Witness statements always conflicted over who it was that had left so many groaning on the ground. Ripper never sought a fight outside the ring but he was sure to finish it if it came his way. Meanwhile, Derek would have already unobtrusively stepped outside, pausing his van for a few seconds by the exit ready for Ripper to dive in.

'The networks will be happy you made it last to six rounds.'

'Yeah,' Ripper said, peeling a twenty note from a wad in his shirt pocket. 'Made sure I got paid cash this time.' He passed the note to Derek, who glanced at it and put it in his jacket.

'Wise move with tomorrow being Viral Benefits Day. Never can tell how things are going to shake out.'

'You getting nervous?'

'Nah, not me. But I've noticed a lot of it about, people getting in last minute moves. The van's been pretty busy.'

'You're all set, though?'

'Yup. My family will be outside at midday, along with the whole planet when the planes go over. It's going to be the first ever global holiday, even bigger than Christmas.'

'Course it'll be bigger than Christmas, not everyone does Christmas, not if your religion's different.'

'How're they going to run the networks? I heard even the TV is shutting down while everyone's outside.'

'That's what they're saying. Don't want anyone staying indoors watching a re-run.'

Derek laughed. 'Ripper, you going to join your neighbourhood party?'

Ripper's frustration boiled over and he punched the dashboard harder than he intended.

'Derek, do I actually look like I need enhancements?'

The driver's face clouded for a moment. 'Hey, steady, man. You could go right through there.'

'Exactly. I'm staying in. Don't want to go catching this viral thing.'

'But you voted for it, same as ninety-nine point nine, nine, or whatever it was?'

'Nope. Didn't vote for 'em. I don't want enhancements and I darned well don't need 'em.'

'Yeah, witness my dash,' Derek said, running his palm over the place Ripper had punched it. There was now an indentation in the padding below the plastic skin. 'But what about all the health benefits it's going to give us?'

'Disease resistance? I already got resistance. My parents lived 'til they were ninety-odd.'

'There you go, see. Mine copped it with cancer in their forties and fifties. I'm not going to turn down protection against that.'

Ripper was tempted to reply with 'If it works.' but didn't want to unsettle his friend, so he simply nodded and kept quiet. They passed the town hall clock a few minutes later. Ripper glanced up and saw that it showed ten before ten. Already the streets were emptying. Clubs, pubs and bars had tipped out early and people were scurrying back to their homes. Lights in shops which were normally open all night were being switched off, restaurants were closing. In less than twelve hours, people across the world would be preparing to be outside as midday struck in their time zone. Planes fitted with special tanks and nozzles were fuelled up ready to fly over, distributing a silvery mist of virus. Ripper was determined to watch them from behind his window when they criss-crossed the sky.

At the street door to his apartment, Ripper waved as his friend drove away, both of them completely unaware that within less than a week Derek would lose his beloved wife and daughter, and the world would be changed beyond recognition. Ripper had no idea that he would fall prey to the virus twice over, and that before long he would witness mass deportation scenes which had been unknown since World War II.

Chapter 3: Zombie Factor

Ripper Lee had for months been force-fed the twin slogans: Get sick to get better and Catch the virus, get well with Viral Benefits.

They were on hoardings, TV, radio; every news bulletin repeated the mantra.

With the new Viral Benefits product, humans would become as disease-resistant as GM crops. All everyone had to do was catch a Genetically Modified cold for a few days. The strains of cold and 'flu which Viral Benefits had devised would carry enhanced genetic material right inside the human body. Within a few days what was broken would be fixed. Cancer, heart disease; all would be no more than a bad memory.

No-one was exactly sure how Lorrayne Trent, CEO of Viral Benefits Corp, had risen up the ranks. Rumours were many but none of them bore close inspection. The woman herself was an enigma, being extremely outspoken when it came to what she frequently referred to as 'her company', but giving away nothing of herself. She was almost wholly reclusive, most often operating from a concealed location, and at all other times having sufficient guards on hand to protect her from any intrusion. No details of her private life were ever revealed, despite the lengths the press went to get a picture, or an interview with anyone who might have a tale to tell. Her public appearances were most often pre-recorded or stage-managed with the utmost precision. She had meticulously studied the failings of others and had no intention of being caught unprepared.

Amongst top Viral Benefits execs she was known for her singleness of purpose and ruthless determination. If she wanted something, it happened. Her Grand Plan for the next phase of human existence was going to unfold in the way she intended, and she would tolerate nothing in her path. Lorrayne Trent believed absolutely, that if anyone could convince the world to accept mass human genetic modification, it was her.

Unfortunately for Lorrayne Trent, practically everyone on the planet had seen a film, read a book or heard about a company somewhere which had developed a 'wonder-drug' for every human ailment. The cure started off well but suddenly it all turned very bad, with ninety per cent of the population changing into zombies which snapped, bit and dripped blood or saliva loaded with infection.

Viral Benefits Corp was a massive pharmaceutical conglomerate and it had appeared to be making precisely the same claims as the fictional companies. Ripper was not immune to the irony and neither was much of the world population Viral Benefits Corp had hoped to convince.

Ripper heard every one of the arguments and distrusted the fact that too many were in favour. Lorrayne Trent had been on TV every night for months. Documentaries, special features, ads, each told the same story of the safety of the new wonder cure. Even her company's spectacular record of manufacturing 'clean' pharmaceuticals which produced a minimum of side-effects had failed to convince him.

Two months before Viral Benefits Day there had been a dramatic debate on live TV which had included representatives from all the major religions. Each had been given a chance to express his or her views. It was no surprise to Ripper that not a single voice supported Viral Benefits. When one of Trent's execs took the podium to counter the religious arguments, a fanatic leapt in front of the cameras with a bomb.

Ripper watched, wide-eyed, as a man held up a trigger attached to a wire which ran up his sleeve. The dishevelled individual had been sitting in the front row of the audience. He waved the trigger menacingly at the cameras and shouted at Trent's executive to stop the programme. The studio audience fled their seats to escape but succeeded only in knocking over several of their number in the process. Two security guys were pinned against the wall by the press of frantic people. All of the religious representatives were frozen with fear, except one.

In a single, fluid movement which Ripper himself would have been proud of, the person he least expected intervened. An apparently elderly Buddhist priest swung his body over the desk in front of him. With his staff he knocked the would-be bomber senseless, at the same time grabbing his hand before the trigger could be released.

The shouting from the audience suddenly stopped and the security guys struggled free to restrain the assailant. At that point, the transmission was cut. The studio was evacuated immediately so that the bomb could be disarmed. Ripper had been disappointed initially to miss all the action when the network cut the feed and switched to a recorded program. He was able to watch the re-runs, however, when the studio released the rest of the sequence, after being besieged by calls to show what happened after the moment when the Buddhist sprang into action. The debate was re-scheduled and it ran again without incident but in the absence of any studio audience. In the meantime, Ripper had been surprised by reports that the bomb was a fake, which explained how the man had been able to get past the security checks on the way in.

To Trent it was the most minor setback, and nothing compared to the zombie rumours the gutter press used to peddle their newspapers. She was obsessed with winning public approval. To the disgust of share-holders she wiped millions in potential profits from the company balance sheets. Trent had offered many of their most profitable drugs free to the Third World for a limited period. This did marvels for the company image world-wide but nothing for confidence in the new cure.

After months of spending millions on ramping up supplies of the cure-all virus which, without acceptance, would all go to waste, Ms Trent realised that there was only one solution. Viral Benefits execs, including Trent herself, must publicly line up and take their injections. It would have to be done live, in front of a studio audience of doctors. Independent labs had to test the vaccine to ensure it contained live virus and a week later the execs must be tested to show that the virus had entered their bodies.

Ripper and a global TV audience had followed the progress of TV presenters, officials and execs in daily updates, to see the effect of the virus. Once over the initial symptoms of having a cold or a touch of 'flu, each exec reported feeling more full of vitality than ever before. Over the two weeks after the injections, Ripper noticed that the physical shapes of the experimental subjects changed, too. Both sexes became more distinct in their physiques, their eyes brighter, their hair glossier, their smiles wider.

They certainly looked pretty convincing, and thousands more volunteers clamoured to be included in the study. Trent realised then that she had reached the turning point and all that was necessary was to maintain the momentum by demonstrating dramatic-sounding benefits. Company execs, and ordinary volunteers were shown on TV with before and after body scans explained in detail by experts. Without exception, all scans showed the reduction of tumours, clearing of arterial blockages, and revitalisation of heart muscle in patients which had such problems before the treatment. Success with patients showing symptoms of dementia and Parkinson's Disease was equally dramatic, their brain scans before and after showing significant improvements within weeks.

The day before the fight with Griff Slammer, Ripper had grumbled to himself on the way back from the store with a week's worth of provisions and an extra daily ration of vitamin C. He was just fine the way he was, he'd been fit all his life; he didn't want enhancements. In his mind, nothing came cheap, and especially not free. He would do his best to keep from getting this viral cure for diseases he didn't have. And he trained every day to stay at the peak of fitness, so he didn't need anything tinkering with his genes because someone claimed that:

The Viral Benefits will improve your physical shape beyond your wildest dreams.

Ripper hadn't been easy to fool by their protestations, he could smell a rat, and he was going to stay behind locked doors for as long as it took. Let everyone else catch the virus. While it ran its course in them, he would remain out of reach, so he couldn't get infected.

From the start of their campaign, Trent and her Viral Benefits execs had maintained that the virus programme was completely legal. It had been introduced only after months of study and hours of TV debate. When Trent's own viewing figures finally showed that the public was completely convinced by the discussions, the matter was put to the vote.

A global referendum had been undertaken by every world power. Every citizen over the age of sixteen had placed a thumb-print, tick or cross on an official ballot slip. A hundred to one, everyone voted to accept any risk the virus posed. Viral Benefits claimed there was no case for reprisal. Ripper Lee didn't believe a word of it but by the time everyone had been infected, the people had no-one to speak for them. Even if they had, the head of Viral Benefits Corp would not be listening.

Lorrayne Trent, from her private office at the global headquarters, beamed a smile to a world-wide audience. She knew that in every town and city her voice was being heard. The video feeds were projected right across the wall of her office. It was her voice which gave the order to spread the virus, and it was full of reassurance.

'The benefits all of you have voted for will soon show themselves. In the coming months a new society, an integrated, safe, ordered society shall be built, with more of everything for everyone.'

Chapter 4: Party Time

The moment he had got inside, Ripper had locked and bolted the door to his apartment, and it stayed locked. He alternated between the TV and the punch bag hanging from the beam in the corner which he called the gym. Ripper was quite convinced that he'd be safe behind barred doors. When a nasty flu had done the rounds two years ago, he'd kept to himself and avoided the misery many others had suffered.

From his window he watched the planes fly past misting the city with their plague. At seeing