Designated (Book 2): Designated Quarantined (39 page)

The trim, pre-cut tube of tobacco and paper hung from his lips as he bent down and plucked the canister's lid from the floor before slipping the empty container back into his shirt. With a contented sigh, he fished in his trouser pocket for his lighter, the matte-black square of pressed steel filling his palm as he stared at the grinning devil printed on the face of it, the eyes staring up as he flicked it with his thumb, watching the top of Lucifer's head fold away as the lid snapped back with a metallic click.
 

The sharp rasp of metal over flint sliced the silence as his sore-split face was lit by the sparking flash of his lighter as he dragged his thumb on the ridged wheel.
 

'Oh, and just a by the by, you all have until I finish this cigar to decide. Then I will allow my compatriots in, and, well, they are all a little hungry or angry, or both; anyway, have fun deciding.'
 

****
 

Derek slipped around the corner, his form coming to rest behind the smoking wreck of a car, the shattered beast of steel and glass lying on its side. The smell of wet pork filled his nostrils as he peered around it at the group of Infected that surrounded the double-decker bus.
 

His throat itched, the splash of red ringing his neck sat blistered and sore beneath the pads of his throat mike. Velcro tugged at his slowly chaffing flesh as the scent of his own blood mingled with the air. Derek's ears tickled as he strained to hear Andrey's near-silent approach.
 

'Infected?'
 

Derek nodded as Andrey sank to one knee.
 

'How many?'
 

A soft snort left Derek as he twisted his booted foot, scraping against the glass-strewn floor beneath him.
 

'Enough, but, you may want to reload.'
 

Andrey grinned as he slipped the half-empty magazine from the well of his weapon and set it into the drop-leg magazine pouch on his thigh, the matte-black plate of pouches cluttered with half a dozen half-full magazines.
 

The soft click of a fresh magazine slipping into the well made Derek smile for the briefest second as he pushed himself upwards. His thighs trembled slightly as he moved past Andrey and patted his friend on the shoulder.
 

Derek paused, listening once more to Andrey's near-silent movements as they both moved into the shadows of the container lorry.

30
Kings Cross St Pancras
 

'You see that?'
 

Lucas spoke, his voice soft, almost whisper quiet as he tracked the sudden flash of movement to the corner of a lorry two hundred meters from the train station's front door. The buttstock of his rifle was pulled in tight to his shoulder, the stale stench of sweat filling his nostrils as it skated down the side of his face pooling around his cheek where it sat pressed tight to the rubberised plastic.
 

'Yup, that wasn't an Infected; I can tell you that much.'
 

King shifted his weight slightly, his elbows screaming at him as the grit beneath him bit deeper into his skin. A sudden flash of light dazzled his eyes as he stared at the dark, swaying shadows. King blinked rapidly, trying to clear the dancing spots of rippling glare from his eyes as the flashing started again. Drawing back on the magnification, he counted the glittering bursts of light as Lucas panned his rifle back towards the bus.
 

Pressing his fingers to his throat, King opened a channel his voice soft, just above a muted whisper as he spoke, his eyes still glued to the pad of his spotting scope.
 

'Mike, Oscar, Zulu.'
 

His hoarse croaking words made Lucas' eyebrows arch as he set his sights on the hunched and sweat-stained back of an Infected. The agitated, sporadic movements made his finger itch as he stroked the trigger of his rifle, his mind aching for him to curl his finger and send the copper-jacketed hunk of lead hurtling into the twitching mass of flesh below him.
 

'Alpha, Romeo, Tango; Confirm receipt, over.'
 

A smile tugged at King's lips as he let his sights drift over the area ahead of Derek's position.
 

'Receipt confirmed, come on in; we'll clear the way.'
 

Baker's voice filled King's ears as he shifted his sights to the nearest Infected, calling him out to Lucas as the man zeroed in.
 

'Negative, bus, priority action. We'll cover approach from ground level; you provide sniper and aerial support. Cleared for swarm pod.'
 

A dry double click filled Derek's ear as a soft whine flitted through the air.
 

****
 

Token stood watching the world below him, his head lost beneath a helmet that looked like the bastard child of a motorcycle crash helmet and a fish bowl.
 

The shifting blue haze that bathed his face made his eyes tingle as he watched the thirty dancing images relayed to him by the circling drones below.
 

'We have a total of twenty-two tangos encircling the bus, and what appears to be one...'
Token paused as his brow furrowed.
'He seems to be sitting down and uh … well … he's smoking.'
 

Token's radio blipped in his ear as Derek's voice filtered through.
 

'SAU 3-6 repeat last transmission.'
 

Token, sent a drone whirling through an open window at the rear of the bus, its carbon fibre rotors noiselessly cutting through the fear-soaked air. The high-resolution camera whirred in its housing as Token zeroed in on the man in the suit. His white, blood-spattered shirt and gore-smeared trousers marked him more victim than victor to any but the most stringent observer.
 

The drone banked sharply as Token guided the minuscule bot through the doorway and out into the street. The shuffling, agitated, and hunger-crazed Infected barely registered its passage as it passed barely three feet above their heads. Their minds so consumed by the need for sustenance that it rendered everything around them completely inconsequential.
 

Guttural snarls and simpering whines mingled with the drifting blanket of death's song as they shifted impatiently at the edge of their imposed cordon. With the skill of a ballet choreographer, Token guided the buzzing swarm, their trim, minuscule forms drifting as close as he dared to take them to the salivating mass of ravenous flesh below him.
 

'In position, waiting to execute.'
 

Derek's clipped, stress-laden tone invaded their minds as his order rolled forth. A declaration so vilified that it defied all cognitive progression as the Infected below drew their final breaths.
 

'Execute!'
 

The world burst into a kaleidoscope of noise and panic as the people trapped behind the walls of steel and glass that encased them were rocked by the sudden litany of explosions. The Infected at the front of the bus leapt to his feet, the half-dead cigar slipping from his lips as he watched his brethren fall.
 

The drones detonated, their steel and carbon fibre shells rupturing as the packets of high explosives within burst in a solid ball of boiling fire and energy. The steel ball packed explosives sent blood and gore bursting forth, plastering the sides of the bus in a rain of skin, shattered bone, and torn flesh.
 

The chattering clatter of suppressed gunfire filled the echoing void as the suit-clad Infected tore from the open doors of the bus, his feet sliding through the layer of ruptured flesh and entrails that covered the road around him. A flush of warmth rolled down his spine as he raised his head, crimson rain bathed his face as he watched the last remnants of his butchered cohorts descend from the heavens.
 

His ears rang with the bells of a thousand dead men, straining as the ghostly pale vestige of a figure emerged from the darkened shadows of the world around him, tongues of fire dancing forth as more of his brethren fell to the shadow's daemonic sword.
 

'SAU3-4, 3-5 you have eyes on. Confirm secure.'
 

The Infected listened to the words trickle forth as his ears buzzed and stung, the burning haze of his own unbidden tears filled his eyes as the shade before him began to swim into being.
 

He watched as the shade's hand rose to its ear and dropped mere moments later, the movements so precise, yet fluid that they seemed ingrained into its very being as its fire-belching lance of death rose, shifting in his direction.
 

'Down on the floor!'
 

He couldn't move; his hands shook and knees buckled as he watched the approaching spectre.
 

'I said down on the fucking floor!'
 

His knees buckled as the shifting swirling mass of anger and rage edged ever closer.
 

'Do you not hear me? I said, down on the fucking floor!'
 

His eyes bulged as his stomach clenched, the sudden impact from the spectre's anger-soaked lance buckling him as he slid to the floor, the legs of his suit trousers drenched in the quagmire of his kin.
 

Andrey crushed his foot into the back of the blood-soaked Infected, his hands sliding the thick semi-ridged bands of plastic around the man's wrists before dragging them closed, sealing the prostrate form's hands together.
 

'Up Svoloch!'
 

Andrey dragged the dazed and stunned figure to its feet as the doors to Kings Cross St Pancras crashed open. The grime-smeared and weary forms of S.A.U 3 poured free, their weapons raised and eyes scanning the area as they charged towards the stalled and blood-spattered bus. The pulsing corpses that ringed it were already beginning to fill the air with the pungent aroma of offal and excrement.
 

'Check it, tag it, and get it inside; not one more person is dying on our watch, do you hear me?'
 

An echoing chorus bounced through the air as Derek and Andrey dragged the staggering Infected form towards the train station concourse.
 

'Sit down, you piece of shit!'
 

Andrey all but threw the bound form into a vacant chair, the legs lifting from the floor as the Infected's weight crashed into the tubular chromed steel frame.

Andrey's eyes flared with a primal anger as he watched a blood chilling smirk play across the Infected's features.
 

'He's coming for you...'
 

The Infected's lilting singsong words echoed through the cavernous ticket hall. The stifled sobs and keening moans of the people around them stilled as his cackling laughter filled the air.
 

'He... he's gonna make you all burn... the fire of our dominion shall cleanse you all from the face of this wretched world, us and the black twelve.'
 

His face twisted as the pulsating sores began to split, the yellowed puss mingling with his tears and blood as he leant forwards, his mouth foaming as his voice began to climb.
 

'He's coming, and you will all burn...'
 

His eyes fell to Derek as he made his way to Andrey's side, his footsteps cutting the Infected's words apart like meat on a butcher's block.
 

'You, your little blonde whore, and the spawn or your rutting loins will burn; he will fall upon you like the sword of Damocles and tear your world asunder. Their screams will fill the air as you watch on in horror, drowning in their blood as it stains the earth at your feet.'
 

Derek's eyes bore into the Infected as he twisted against his bonds, the smell of fresh blood filling the air as the thick plastic encircling his wrists began to bite deeply into his flesh.
 

'Enough of this shit!'
 

Derek strode forwards, letting his rifle slip to his back as he dragged his blade from the sheath on his thigh, settling the weight into his palm as he dropped to a crouch, his weight resting on the balls of his feet.
 

'Drown in blood, huh, that's a new one.'
 

Derek shifted his weight slightly, gaining a more stable stance as he rested his elbows on his knees.
 

'Not very original though, and well, you know you haven't actually told me who is going to be doing the whole "casting my world asunder" thing, as you put it.'
 

The Infected leant as close as he could before Andrey stepped forwards shoving him backwards into the chair once more. Derek continued to crouch in front of the chair; the Infected's eyes widened his mouth foaming, white froth stained red as it poured down his chin.
 

'The one who treads in his steps, the one who sat imprisoned until the time of our coming.'
 

Baker's face flushed as he pushed himself upright, his foot lifting as he slammed it into the Infected's chest.
 

'Enough of the Biblical bullshit!'
 

The Infected clattered to the floor. The echoing crash of the chair beneath him riding on the back of the stomach-churning crunch that issued up from the man as his face contorted in agony. The bones of his wrists were crushed to dust under his own weight.
 

Baker stepped forwards, his body oozing malice and anger as he set his weight down on the Infected's stomach.
 

'You tell me now, just who is behind this, or I swear to you, you will be wearing your intestines as a box tie and your cock as a fucking watch!'
 

The Infected grinned as his eyes brimmed with unshed tears of pain and anger. Derek's matte-black blade hovered, its flat razor-edged surface clutched in his hand reflected in the martyr's gaze as it met Derek's own.
 

'It matters little what you do to me; the whore in the chair knows all too well what my lord is capable of. He comes for us all, and the time of his arrival is nigh; the world knows of our legions, of our passage across this vapid land.'
 

Baker watched as the Infected lifted himself upwards, the sound of splitting bones filling the air as he pushed himself on to Derek's blade, piercing his eyes as he screamed.
 

'He walks among us all, leading us to the promised lands, and his name is Joshua!'
 

The Infected threw his head forwards, Derek's blade sinking deep into his skull as either man could do little more than watch as the matte-black slab of carbon steel slid effortlessly through the soft pappy tissue of its eyeball, until the grating vibration of steel on bone shivered through Derek's arm. Andrey set his hand on Derek's shoulder, softly pulling him to his feet as the blade was dragged from the dead man's skull.
 

'Yeah, I know, Andrey; we have to move.'
 

Derek stood and wiped the blade on the dead man's shirt. As he did so, he turned, motioning to two of Patterson's men.
 

'Get this sack of psychotic shit out of here.'
 

Turning to Andrey, he nodded to the door. 'Let's move. I've wasted too much time here. You locked and loaded?'
 

Andrey nodded as they made their way towards the door, their footsteps tarnished by the bloody smeared corpse being dragged in their wake.