Facts

A NAMRU II worker inside the helicopter, clutching a chrome-colored briefcase, received a call. "Yes, sir, we have got the results."

"We've found the cause of this incident, we've even found the antidote. But sorry, we don't have time to retrieve the antivirus."

"Even based on our estimates, those who have been infected will suffer severe brain damage, making recovery impossible. And if they do recover, they will lose their immunity, making their brains vulnerable to total destruction."

"That is, they will still die even if they are cured," he said to the person on the other end of the call—none other than the President of the Republic of Indonesia.

The aircraft continued its course toward the open sea until it disappeared into the distant horizon, blending with the calm waves of the Sunda Strait.

***

The helicopter carrying eight NAMRU personnel slowly landed on an Indonesian Air Force vessel, welcomed by a newly appointed admiral who had previously been presumed dead due to a lack of communication. Four Army soldiers escorted the NAMRU personnel out of the helicopter, leading them to meet the President to deliver the promised report.

The soldiers guided the personnel through a narrow corridor, its walls lined with large pipes and thick cables. The air was damp, far from luxurious. Occasionally, the pipes released bursts of white steam, startling anyone unaccustomed to the eerie surroundings.

Step by step, they walked forward until they reached a door guarded by two soldiers. However, out of the eight NAMRU personnel, only one was permitted to enter. The rest were escorted to their respective quarters to rest.

"I'm fine, Mr. President," Jonathan replied, standing at attention before stepping closer. His face was tense, reflecting the weight of the information he carried.

"We had to eliminate all the researchers who were involved in the discovery," Jonathan admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. "No one outside our team could know about it. If word had spread, it would have caused global panic, or worse, fallen into the wrong hands."

The President leaned forward, his fingers steepled together. "And yet, here we are. The virus still found its way into our world."

Jonathan nodded. "Yes, sir. And that means… someone else knew about it. Someone who managed to keep it hidden until now."

With hesitation, Jonathan finally spoke, his voice heavy with guilt. "We… we killed all the workers, sir. We feared the risk of contagion. And there is… something about this discovery that could justify a particular religion."

The President frowned, his expression hardening. "Religion? Justify? What are you talking about?"

Jonathan took a deep breath before continuing. "Only certain people—those who, for a long period, have abstained from specific types of food and drink—are immune to the virus."

The President leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "And what exactly are these foods and drinks?"

"Pigs. Dogs. Wine. And livestock that are improperly slaughtered."

A tense silence filled the room. The President exhaled sharply. "Are you telling me… only people who consume halal food are safe from infection?"

Jonathan hesitated. "That is precisely why we buried this research. We feared it would be seen as taking sides."

"Stop dancing around the point, Joe. Just say it plainly."

Jonathan straightened, finally deciding to be direct. "Yes. People who follow halal dietary laws appear to be immune. Even if they are bitten, the virus dies off inside them within a few hours. Their immune system neutralizes it before it can spread."

The President clenched his jaw, his mind racing. "So, you're saying… only devout Muslims are naturally resistant to this virus?"

"In short—yes. But immunity doesn't mean invincibility. If an infected person bleeds out or is devoured before the virus dies inside them, they won't survive either way."

The President fell silent, his thoughts colliding like a storm in his head. His mind wandered to his previous encounter with Fadli and Arya at the airport. They had survived against impossible odds. Was this why?

Jonathan continued, his voice steady but laced with unease. "That's why zombies only bite those who are easily infected. They instinctively spread the virus and move on. But when they attack someone with a strong immunity… they don't just bite. They devour them entirely."

The President closed his eyes, whispering under his breath. "Masya Allah… I have found the truth of Islam in this tragedy." His voice trembled. "Ya Allah… is there still time for me to repent?"

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably. "Sir… with all due respect, I believe this is just a coincidence—a scientific anomaly that happens to align with religious beliefs."

The President snapped his gaze back to Jonathan, his expression unreadable. "What other truths are you denying?"

Jonathan had no answer. He could only stand there, lost in thought, as the President slowly sank into his chair, his body weighed down by something invisible. Regret? Guilt? A revelation too overwhelming to bear?

Jonathan took this as his cue to leave, turning toward the exit. But just as he reached the door, the President's voice called out again.

"Joe… is there anything else your research uncovered? Anything else… related to my religion?"

Jonathan froze. His throat felt dry, but he forced himself to answer.

"Yes, sir. We found something else. Deep beneath the earth, something cold as morning dew… but deadly. Strangely, it is lethal only to devout Muslims. To everyone else, it is completely harmless."

The words struck the President like a physical blow. His breath hitched. His hands trembled.

A terrifying truth—one that could save millions if revealed, yet had been buried under the weight of human ego. A truth feared not because of its danger, but because acknowledging it would mean admitting that, all this time, there had been something greater than human knowledge.

Something undeniable.

Something divine. []