In the dying days of June 2005, recently obtained documents from the now destroyed CP Archives Building reveal a vicious battle at the secretive annual meeting of Land Rush delegates. The Ninth Annual Plenary Session of Cartographers had opened with members split into two sides. One faction advocated settling new land in the south where Terra Pennatus is currently situated; but the other had wanted the Mapp to move westwards into supposedly richer lands.

To prove their point, this group, comprised mainly of business magnates and wealthy investors, had sent aerial reconnaissance over the area and presented their findings at the meeting. In spite of heavily promoting the region, dubbed “Coramalvado”, the faction failed to convince land regulators who chose to expand the Mapp southwards in July.

Nevertheless, the efforts of this powerful international business consortium had not gone unnoticed. Tales of rich and bounty from the jungles of the far west slowly percolated their way through the tabloid press. From articles on fringe internet websites to major blockbuster movies, Coramalvadan fever had swept Mapp pop culture within months. Before long there emerged anecdotes of people selling all their possessions to venture deep into the jungle to find treasure. By the middle of September, the first organized civilian expedition left from the desolate Danikistani desert. They were never heard from again.

Against all reasonable counsel, a second expedition of enthusiastic adventure-seekers set out from a more southerly point near Buenos Altos later that month. A week after their departure, yachters in Gorditas called police to report gruesomely mangled and disemboweled bodies floating downstream on the Thaydelus River. Subsequent autopsies confirmed that they were all from the famed expeditions. Records of the exact causes of death have since been unobtainable.

The clear danger of Coramalvado proved to be neither deterrent nor detriment for the upsurge of interest that followed the autopsy results. In late October, the first ever successful expedition had returned. Well-funded and well-armed, the scientific endeavour yielded knowledge on over a thousand new species of flora and fauna. The researchers even managed to capture a novel type of monkey which they donated, with much fanfare, to the Imperial Zoo in Marcusburg.

Species Hancalae (or “Allan” as he became known after a quirky contest on a popular children’s television show) quickly became the star attraction at the zoo. Officials had heavily promoted his presence to lift the zoo, which had just opened the past summer, from obscurity. Unfortunately, unlike the rest of his counterparts, Allan proved to be a most antisocial, unpredictable, and aggressive creature. Within a week, he had bitten nearly all his handlers and almost half a dozen visitors including small children and their pets.

With most of his caregivers in hospital, the monkey was placed in solitary confinement, much to the chagrin of animal rights activists who held daily demonstrations and candlelight vigils outside the main entrance. Attempts to perform medical testing on the monkey provoked a further outcry. Meanwhile, half of Allan’s victims remained in hospital in critical condition while the other half were sent home and monitored by public health officials. After a period of three weeks, all those bitten and still hospitalized had recovered enough to return home by mid-November.

But those of Allan’s victims who were well enough to avoid hospital soon came down with mild flu-like symptoms. At the same time, public health officials announced that the annual flu outbreak had arrived earlier than usual, afflicting thousands. Although all of Allan’s victims were promptly sent back to hospital for observation, contacts could not be reliably traced and there was no evidence that they were suffering from anything more than the flu.

Calls for a definitive answer by way of putting Allan down drew increasing hostility from animal activists who by this time were intimately entangled with the far-left movement. Concluded only weeks before, the Congress of Nak-Sun had mobilized leftist forces opposed to globalization, autocratic regimes, and arbitrary decisions by heads of state. Pressure from the business community also contributed to world health authorities delaying an autopsy until November 28.

Doctors then discovered that there was certainly something more to the flu. The Hancalae virus, as this new illness was called, was a distant relative of the Rhabdoviridae family and comprised two variants termed the Damos strain and the Chiurgios strain. Those with Damos became violently ill quickly but eventually recovered. With the other strain, the virus would incubate for three weeks before signs of a flu would appear, followed by aggression, hysteria, psychosis, and maniacal behaviour.

Signs that something was wrong first appeared in world financial markets as trading volume slowed for no reason other than millions of workers calling in sick with the flu. Soon militaries across the Mapp began to notice entire battalions falling ill, including the 41st Imperial Regiment stationed in downtown Marcusburg.

On December 2, records from the base depict the court-martial of a young corporal accused of insubordination in the midst of a hazing ceremony. Transcripts of court proceedings showed the soldier had refused to make a deep incision into the palm of his left hand and burn an insignia onto the inner aspect of his right thigh as dictated by his superior. Confronted with the refusal, the soldier was verbally abused and bludgeoned over the head with an assault rifle repeatedly. This action was eventually returned in kind, triggering immediate detention.

Arguments pertaining to the instigation of the action were unceremoniously dismissed. Undeterred, the defence lawyer revealed his client had attended an early rally protesting Allan’s solitary confinement during the weeks prior. Physicians were called on to testify to the corporal’s ill mental health. Nevertheless, he was found guilty by the tribunal unanimously and was to be dishonourably discharged after spending one month in military prison.

In journal entries recovered from other detainees at the prison, they revealed the corporal was refused medical attention and singled out for especially harsh measures as his superior was part of a powerful military family who wielded great influence. One diary entry from a prisoner who had befriended the disgraced corporal noted that he had successfully brokered a meeting with another disgruntled soldier with access to the armoury on base.

On the fourth day of his imprisonment, the corporal was finally taken out of his cell to see a medic around 9:30AM. Corroborating evidence from the sick bay show he was the only patient scheduled in clinic that morning. Without warning, a battery of several rocket-propelled grenades was fired in the direction of the international fusion power plant around 9:45AM. More than a few successfully hit their target.

Since the incident (known universally as "12/6"), survivors from the power station have revealed that management secretly lowered shields routinely for maintenance. The mere impression of continuous shielding was felt to be deterrence enough against a potential attack. The answer to whether the shields were down that fateful morning (as a matter of routine maintenance, or whether Chiurgios related staffing shortages impaired power plant defenses) has since been lost to history.

A sudden rupture in the aging, decrepit, and neglected containment field around the fusion engine core led to a massive power surge that ripped the roof off the nearby Centre for Disease Control in downtown Marcusburg at 10:04AM on December 6, 2005. The most virulent variants of the Chiurgios strain, once safely contained in state-of-the-art laboratories, were exposed and disseminated throughout the entire Mapp.

Although containment was quickly restored, around noon that same day, numerous independent attempts by different countries to restore power by tapping into the fusion power grid culminated in a catastrophic nuclear meltdown. The resulting implosions spewed enough dust into the air to block out the sun, heralding the onset of a nuclear winter. Within hours, the Mapp was covered in a veil of permanent darkness.

Communication between countries then terminated. But in recent weeks, the concensus from emerging international data indicate hundreds of thousands died instantly from the nuclear implosion. While millions were exposed to the Hancalae virus earlier that day and previously thereto, still many more millions were contaminated with lethal radioactive fallout. Without power and with the simultaneous accentuation of an already cold winter, millions died. Survivors hid underground in basements, bunkers, and subway systems for warmth and protection against further fallout.

But underground respites had only limited protection against the Hancalae virus. Many of those afflicted with Hancalae were expelled into the above-ground and resorted to cannibalism for nutrition. Data from the last of the functioning satellites showed the virus spread not only from the CDC but also from two additional nexuses in Bangkwok and Grahambridge. Many speculate that two separate aircraft traveling from Marcusburg dropped from the sky in those countries after the nuclear meltdown. Onboard were passengers with such a high viral load that the virus survived the impact of the plane crashes.

Sometime in mid-December 2005, megaphones from the surface abruptly stopped after announcing the abdication of the President of Congressional Parliament. In many underground shelters, abdication was interpreted as death and mass panic ensued. With no hope of order and only the prospect of encountering hungry maniacal Hancalae victims, survivors huddled in their underground enclaves, waiting for their food and oxygen to run out before they too would die.

<< RETURN >>