‘Listen.’ The doctor’s voice dropped. His whisper came through loud and clear. ‘Captain Killian has stepped out for a moment. I wanted to speak to you in private.’
‘Nothing’s private on the radio, Doctor.’
‘No. I suppose you’re correct.’ The transmission ceased for a second. ‘I fear the DSD containment was breached. You need to find out what happened there, and to the army units that were sent.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because the containment facility in the basement couldn’t have failed. It was impossible.’
Eric gave a gruff laugh. ‘I’ve come to understand that nothing’s impossible in this world.’
‘You’re listening, Mr. Mann, but you’re not understanding. The containment system couldn’t have failed without the computer being tampered with, and the security footage is corrupted and no longer broadcasting.’
‘So, you’re saying what exactly?’
‘Not everyone is working for the same goals here. Something is wrong.’ He dropped his voice again. ‘I can’t say more, not over an open channel.’
***
Gemma held a finger to her lips. Magarth nodded his understanding. He didn’t want to be here, but he couldn’t have remained alone back there, in the shed. They both crouched behind a snow-covered Lexus and peered around the bumper. Ahead, a man and a woman threw bags into the boot of a small car, their voices raised in a heated argument. Magarth doubted they’d be going anywhere. The snow concealed the wheels.
‘This is bad,’ said Magarth.
‘Maybe we should tell them to keep quiet? They probably don’t know that noise attracts them.’
‘Are you crazy? There’s every chance they’re infected.’
‘So, let’s double back and find another route.’
‘Take too long. Too risky. No. No.’
‘This whole thing’s risky.’
He tugged at his scarf, felt himself growing more panicked. ‘This is bad,’ he repeated.
‘Hey! Please help!’ The voice came from across the street. A short male, perhaps in his thirties, shirt torn.
‘Stay back,’ the arguing couple said.
‘I just need some help, they were in my house. I need somewhere to go, please.’
The man slammed the boot closed, and they both jumped into the car. It coughed. The car coughed again. The ignition turned over and the engine roared to life. The telling signs of gears and accelerator sounded, but the car couldn’t budge.
Gemma moved an inch forward. Magarth tugged her to the ground, hard. She yelped.
‘You idiot!’
‘You’re the idiot,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t—’
The man in the torn shirt turned to their noise. He headed their way.
‘Look what you’ve done,’ Magarth whined. His tone was high.
‘Please, I won’t hurt you.’
Magarth pulled the yellow taser from his waistband. His hands shook.
‘What are you doing?’ said Gemma.
‘He could be infected.’
‘He might not be. Put that thing away.’
‘We can’t take the risk.’
The man closed in.
‘Stay back,’ cried Magarth, ‘I’ll use this.’
‘I won’t hurt you, I promise. Just help me.’
He was only metres away. One finger squeezed. The barbs shot out of the taser, striking below the neck. The man went rigid and fell to the ground. His body convulsed. Magarth threw the taser aside and the cracking stopped. In a frenzy, he stomped on the man’s chest, dug his heel in over and again. Ribs splintered. He had to kill him. Kill him or be killed. He had to get home.
‘Stop it,’ yelled Gemma.
Magarth moved to the head. Stomping, kicking, stomping. One final stomp and he felt the facial bones give way.
‘What have you done?’
‘I saved us,’ he panted.
‘Saved us? You killed him. You’ve … bludgeoned him.’
‘I had to.’ Magarth wiped at his face. ‘Damn! Damn! Damn! I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get home. Maria needs me.’ He turned and lifted his feet high, ploughing through the snow. He was fast.
‘You can’t just leave me!’
‘Maria needs me!’
Magarth ran on, alone. If he kept at this pace he’d lose her, but she was a burden. She was going to impede his chances of getting home.
The street opened before him. The towering lights of the hospital came into view. He could have cried with relief. Noises came and went on the wind. The sound of an engine laboured through the snow. A white military vehicle sped past. More vehicles followed. This was it, he thought. Rescue. Magarth pulled himself over a wall and ran out onto the road, arms raised forward.
‘Stop!’ he yelled. ‘Stop!’
***
The lead Snatch put some unnecessary distance between itself and the trucks.
Eric nudged Carter. ‘Tell them to slow down.’
A form, black against the snow and arms raised, raced onto the road.
A swerve. Breaks jammed on. The back wheels went their own way, taking the truck into a circle, crashing into an abandoned car, and then another, and then another. Car alarms blared. The truck came to rest, straddling the full width of the roadway. Eric touched a hand to his forehead. It came away with a dab of blood.
Carter rubbed his neck. ‘Damn it.’
The earpiece hung on its cord. Eric pushed it back in. Panicked words burst across the radios. He pulled the door open and slid out of the cabin. The front left wheel was buckled.
‘This truck’s not going anywhere.’
Carter handed him the modified shotgun. From behind, the other vehicles came to a halt.
Eric ran to one. ‘You know where the rendezvous is at the hospital?’
‘Yep.’
‘Go to it. Our transport’s down. We’ll make it on foot.’
‘You sure?’
‘We can cut through the grounds and meet you there. Link up with the army units but wait for us before moving further.’ Eric waved the trucks on. He shouted to Carter, ‘Get those car alarms silenced.’
The third truck went past and someone leapt from the back.
‘Finally showed your face.’
Brutus held a pair of mini binoculars to his eyes. ‘Looks like you could use a hand, mate.’
Ahead, a group of fifteen or more watched the action, their bodies in that jerking dance Eric was coming to know so well. Eric readied his shotgun. A lone guy ran towards him, dangling an ID badge in the air.
‘Stop right there. Down on your knees,’ shouted Eric.
He obeyed, and placed his hands on the back of his head. ‘I’m not one of them. I’m not.’
Eric waved Brutus over. Plastic wrist restraints were applied.
‘This is the idiot that caused all this,’ said Eric.
‘I’m not infected.’
‘Save it, fool,’ barked Brutus.
‘I’m Tim Magarth with the DSD. Please, you’ve got to get me out of here.’
‘You’re with the DSD?’ asked Eric.
‘They’re coming for us. Get these ties off me.’
Eric knew he’d have a chance of getting some explanations from this man. ‘I need to talk with you. Don’t move.’
Eric dragged Brutus towards the damaged truck. ‘Contact left,’ he shouted, pointing towards the group.
The Black Aquila operatives moved into a well-practised routine, those with tasers and the modified shotguns to the fore, those with stun-rods, to the rear.
The DSD employee followed, his ragged breaths loud and laboured.
‘I said to stay where you were.’
‘I’m not leaving your side.’
‘One false move and I’ll knock your block off.’
‘I like my head.’
A wisp of snow blew past. Eric raised a hand to wave the unit forward then looked down the sights of his shotgun. An infected sniffed twice, and then let out a scream as its jittering increased. It launched forward and those behind followed.
‘Fire.’
Eric’s command unleashed a volley of electric barbs and shells. Half of the creatures were brought down while the others continued their charge. His sights followed one, a teenage girl, keeping her on the end of the barrel. When she turned, he squeezed the trigger. It took her in the chest. She shuddered and dropped to the ground. Eric pumped the shotgun and moved forward.
Two of his men, Sinclair and another, raced up. With stun-rods in hand and restraints at the ready, they set about securing the girl Eric neutralised. A few more shotgun blasts rang out before the last went down.
‘Secure them all,’ said Eric. ‘Arms and legs, and use mouth-guards.’
The scrambling began.
Sinclair wiped snow from his face and turned. One infected, brought down but not yet secured, leapt back to its feet. It pounced on Sinclair.
A collective cry went up. Brutus ran past, shotgun ready. Sinclair screamed as the teeth sank into his neck. Brutus hauled the creature off, tearing skin away. Sinclair fell back, both hands pressed to a gaping wound.
‘Medic!’ cried Carter.
Brutus and the infected faced each other like two wrestlers waiting for the bell. There was no bell. Brutus smashed the butt of the weapon into its nose. It did little, other than to stun the thing.
‘Move, Brutus,’ called Carter.
Brutus shook his head. ‘I got this one.’
He jabbed a fist into its face, a blow that would have floored most men. The infected leapt at him. He dodged to the side, swinging a roundhouse kick to its midsection, and followed with an elbow to the side of the head. It flinched, but turned and attacked again. Brutus kicked with the flat of his boot, into its knee. A loud snap. The infected dropped. Brutus grabbed at a flailing arm, stepped behind and brought a knee to the back of its shoulder, pinning it face-first into the snow. He yanked back. The arm came away from the socket, yet still the thing resisted. Brutus planted his foot into its back and brought a fist down at the base of its skull. He grabbed his shotgun, fired two shots. The street was once again quiet.
‘Don’t know what all the fuss is about.’ Brutus walked back to the truck, peeled off his black gloves, and applied a clean pair.
Eric caught up. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘What?’
Eric put a hand on his chest. ‘You know what. That thing killed Sinclair and you decide to go one-on-one with it?’
‘Sinclair was sloppy. It’s a shame, but it happens.’
‘And what you did wasn’t sloppy?’
‘Take a look around, Eric. This city’s going to hell. You’ve seen them now. You really think there’s a chance they can be healed? The army’s shooting on sight. At the end of the day, they’re dead men walking. Now get the hell off me.’
Eric dropped his hand. Brutus had a point. These people really were beyond hope. How could anyone come back from that? Brutus marched off.
‘Brutus is Brutus. Sinclair’s dead,’ said Carter. ‘The infected, too. What do we do with the bodies, and the live ones?’
Eric rubbed his chin. The unplanned stop brought a dilemma. At the hospital, they would have the army to aid in the containment. Here, they were on their own.
‘We need to get them off the street. We’re bringing too much attention to ourselves as it is. Get on the radio and see if you can get a containment team down the road. For now, have a couple of guys secure an empty house. If we can’t get a team here, we’ll have to swing back around for the dead once we’re done at the hospital. I need to talk to that DSD guy we picked up.’
Carter nodded to a place not five metres behind Eric.
Magarth was curled up in a ball in the snow. Tim Magarth, he said his name was. Something sparked in Eric’s memory. A faint hint of familiarity that he could not place.
‘Please,’ the man pleaded, ‘you’ve got to get me out of the city.’
‘You need to answer some questions.’
Chapter 15
Unravelling
Eric climbed the stairs, followed by the DSD guy. Two of his team had swept the house and found it empty. Brutus lingered at the door, while Carter oversaw moving the downed infected into the downstairs rooms. They passed photos of the home’s owners. Eric wondered how many of them now lay face down in the snow, dead, or wandered infected. Were they bringing some of the family home?
He found a child’s bedroom. Blue walls, shelves full of Lego and painted futuristic soldiers. A single bed sat under a bookshelf laden with colourful book spines.
‘Sit.’ Eric pointed at the bed.
Magarth’s hands were bound in front, and played with his ID card, turning it over and over. Eric grabbed the card. The image showed this man a lifetime away, before the stress and fear darkened his eyes, paled his skin. He slipped the card into Magarth’s pocket. ‘It’s pretty rough out there tonight.’
‘It’s been like this for some time.’
Eric pulled a seat from behind the door, swept it around and sat. He placed his shotgun against the wall. ‘So you’re with the DSD.’
‘I’ve been here for a few weeks.’
‘What’s your role?’
Magarth ran a hand through his hair, the other hand awkwardly following. ‘Administrator. I was a liaison officer.’
‘So you’re not an agent?’
‘No.’
‘But you know just as much.’
‘No.’
‘What do you know about containment at the DSD centre?’
Magarth’s eyes went wide, his tongue ran over his teeth and he looked down at the floor. ‘I wouldn’t know anything about that?’
Eric sniffed heavily.
‘Listen, all I want is to get home. My wife’s pregnant and I need to get back to her.’
‘I’ve known a lot of liars, thieves, killers. I’ll ask again, what do you know about containment at the DSD centre?’
Magarth’s head fell into his hands. He shook his head.
‘Did something happen to the containment protocol?’
‘I’m not saying anything until you get me out of the city.’
Eric leaned forward, close enough to smell Magarth’s stale body odour. ‘We’re moving to the hospital. I need to know if I’m walking into something far worse than anticipated. You know what happened, don’t you?’
Magarth’s gaze lifted. ‘Get me safe, out of the city, and then I’ll talk.’
Eric snatched at Magarth’s collar. ‘One of my men died tonight because of you. One of
my
men, you understand?’ He pushed him back onto the bed. ‘You’ve got five minutes.’ He looked at his watch for emphasis, picked up his shotgun, then left the room, slamming the door behind.
Carter and Brutus waited on the landing.
‘Keep an eye on him, Brutus.’
Carter followed Eric down the stairs, out onto the street.
‘He knows something.’
‘Not talking?’
‘Let him stew for a few minutes. Have you tried to reach Captain Killian or Dr. Holden?’
‘The weather’s stuffing up communications. We’ve not heard from Command since we left.’
‘Keep trying.’
‘Why the big deal with the DSD guy?’
‘That doctor suspects the DSD containment system was tampered with. There’s no way the computer could have failed without human intervention.’
‘You think that guy upstairs knows something?’
‘He’s hiding something.’
‘Let Brutus have a moment with him. That’s his kind of business.’
Eric looked back to the house, up at the dark window of the bedroom. What choice did he have? ‘Have the men set up a perimeter on the house. I don’t want any surprises. We move out for the hospital as soon as Brutus gets us the information.’
***
Stacey lay in the dark. Pain hammered behind her eyes. It was the worst pain imaginable. She rolled over squeezing the pillow tight to her eyes.
‘Oh, God, please make it stop.’ She thumped the pillow.
Bright flashes burst behind her closed eyes. Fever blazed under her skin. She scratched at her palms, her fingers, her elbows, her long nails lacerating the length of her arms.
What is happening to me?
She pulled herself from the bed, picked up the bedside lamp, threw it across the room. The globe shattered. A presence in her mind grew, dulling her thoughts. She could feel it, creeping, clawing, governing, and somehow she knew nothing could stop it. Her arms and legs shook, violently at first, then lessened to just a visible tremor. Thoughts of Gemma clouded her mind, random thoughts from the past, the distant past and from a day ago. From college, to a dinner date, to running through the streets of the city. Nothing mattered now. Her vision darkened and took her to another world. The Stacey she knew was gone, replaced by a hungry creature. Hungry for what?
The bedroom door opened.
That woman, Terri, peeked in. ‘I heard something. Is everything okay?’
She flew at Terri. Stiff hands gripped her neck, and then flung her to the floor. She struck the woman across the face, leaned down and bit deep into her neck, pulling free skin and muscle. The answer came; hungry for flesh! Through the door, the baby cried. The thing that had once been Stacey paced towards the crib.
***
Magarth thought he’d done well, not divulging anything or implicating himself in the containment leak. He was in a position of strength. He had something they wanted. He would trade that nugget of information once they got him the hell out of the city.
The door opened. They big guy they call Brutus entered with a smile. He doubted it was his real name, but he started with a ‘Hey, Brutus.’ Then his mouth ran with questions about when they were leaving the city, how, with who.
Brutus held up his hand for silence. He pulled off his tactical vest and coat and laid them on a desk in the corner. He wore a black sleeveless shirt that revealed tattoo-covered arms, the detail of biceps and triceps lost in the swirling patterns. Next, he pulled off his hat and smoothed back his short Mohawk. Brutus was a real brute. His dog tags hung over his top. He pulled them up to his neck and dropped them beneath. Magarth suddenly tasted fear on his tongue.
‘When are we leaving … Brutus?’ he asked again, his tone lacking any hint of confidence.
The brute grabbed hold of Magarth’s coat and hauled him off his feet. It felt like being pulled by wild horses. He flew across the room, crashing into the shelves of Lego.
‘Please! Wait!’
Brutus picked him up by the shirt. Two hard and fast punches snapped his nose, and an elbow crunched his cheek. Magarth whimpered.
‘I think we understand each other now, little man. What do you know about the DSD centre?’ There was no angst in the tone. Brutus could have been fixing his mother a cup of coffee.
‘Nothing.’ Magarth wiped at the blood running from his nostrils.
‘Mate, I can do this all night. Can you? One last time, what do you know?’
Magarth shook his head.
Brutus smiled. ‘We’re in for a long one then.’
He pushed Magarth to the floor, and then stepped on his wrist. The weight was immense. Magarth cried out. Brutus took hold of his index finger.
‘Last chance.’ He immediately wrenched the finger upwards, the break sounding as a pop.
Magarth screamed.
‘You’ve got nine other fingers. I’ll break each and every one, you understand?’ The other boot pressed on his chest. Brutus stood there like a well-balanced surfer.
Magarth’s breath grew shallow, frighteningly shallow.
‘I’ll beat you until sunset tomorrow if I have to.’
‘The containment,’ rasped Magarth. ‘You want to know about the containment at the DSD building.’
‘Talk.’
The weight left Magarth’s chest. The boot on his wrist tightened.
‘Someone altered the computer’s protocols.’
‘And?’
‘And opened the containment tank.’
‘More talk.’
‘Peterson.’
‘Who else knows about Peterson?’
‘Solomon, but he died in the breach. I swear.’
The boot fell heavier. ‘Who else?’
‘I swear, no one else.’
His wrist was freed. Brutus pulled an eight-inch knife from his belt. He turned it in his hand, smiling at its contour.
Magarth’s gaze followed the blade as the solider touched it to his cheek. ‘No, please. Please, I swear.’ Tears came with gulps. ‘No one else knows. No one.’
Brutus picked him up with one great heave and pushed him onto the bed. He knelt over him, the knifepoint just below Magarth’s right eye.
‘Here’s how it’s going to work, Tim. May I call you Tim? You’re not going to mention anything about Peterson breaching the containment to anyone. Not one single person. You understand?’
Magarth blinked, the only response he could make.
‘Just got to keep your mouth shut. You know why?’
The blade moved from his eye, and touched his ear, the sharp edge cutting the skin. He sucked in air between his teeth, and felt a trickle of blood at his neck and a warmth at his crotch.
Brutus grabbed Magarth’s hair, tight, painful. ‘Because if you so much as breathe a word to anyone, I’ll cut your spine from your back and deliver it to your wife. What’s her name? Maria? I’ll deliver something else to her, too.’ The knife moved. He tapped at Magarth’s wet crotch. ‘Do you understand? Speak.’
‘Yes,’ he squeaked.
‘Do you think I’m a man of my word?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You and I will get along just fine.’ He sheathed his knife, and replaced his hat, coat, and tactical vest.
Magarth cradled his broken finger.
Brutus winked and left the room with a laugh.
He was a man of his word, of that, Magarth was sure.
***
From the perimeter, two infected could be seen wandering into the area. They were swiftly taken down. Eric was impressed with the efficiency. Brutus marched out of the house.
Eric met him halfway. ‘So?’
‘You were right, containment at the DSD was compromised. He doesn’t know how or why. He’s scared and just wants to get home.’
Brutus’s tone held no severity.
‘How bad did you hurt him?’
‘As was necessary.’ Brutus looked up at the falling snow. ‘Does it ever stop?’ He pulled a cigar from his inside pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it up, his hand sheltering the flame.
‘We’re moving out.’
‘About time.’ Brutus marched off towards the truck, the smoke from his cigar whipped away on the wind.
The two infected were moved into the house, no less violently than the last lot. Eric waved Carter up the stairs to retrieve Magarth.
When he returned, Carter asked, ‘Was minimal visible damage part of your orders?’
Magarth’s face was a wreck.
Eric spat at the ground. Thoughts flew through his mind. ‘Idiot should have talked earlier,’ is all he said, then to his men, ‘Alright, boys. Wrap it up. We’re moving out!’
***
PC Galloway and Jane pulled another bed to the door. They heaved it onto the rest of the pile.
‘It’s not going to hold forever,’ said Jane.
‘No.’ PC Galloway’s eyes played wildly across the mishmash of furniture, their only hope, or was it?
‘You’re thinking something.’
‘They’re attracted to noise, right? So, if I make as much noise as possible here, I’ll draw the attention of any infected lurking elsewhere.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then the patients and nurses can slip out the far exit.’
‘It might work. I’ll stay with you. I’ll help make the noise.’
He turned to her. ‘You can’t. I’ll ask one of the men, one of the doctors to stay.’
‘They won’t help you. They’re scared. They want out of here.’
‘What about you?’
She gave him a weak smile. It contained little hope. ‘I’ve got you to look after me.’
***
A RAF Chinook and a Puma helicopter sat in the grounds of the hospital. Snow piled up against their frames. A windsock indicated a landing pad was nearby.
Eric held up his fist, bringing his men to a halt. They crouched in the snow. Carter appeared next to him, pulling Magarth down with him. Since leaving the hospital, Eric’s twelve-man team came across three groups of infected. They were subdued and left convulsing in the snow. There was no other option, and each time, Eric’s men pressed forward.
‘What do you make of that?’ Carter chewed noisily on gum.
‘We knew advanced army units were sent here.’
‘Would they have left the choppers like that?’