Designated (Book 2): Designated Quarantined (40 page)

31
St Mary's Hospital
 

Derek swung round the corner, his eyes wide and bloodshot. Stress, panic, anger, and pure unadulterated rage mingled in the vacuous vortex of his eyes, its bilious slop flowing over his face in a twisting blood-tinged mask. The blade in his hand hung from his grip like a manacle as blood slithered from the powder-stained wound in his forearm, running along his arm, dripping from his fingers.
 

Derek snarled; dropping his shoulder, he charged forwards, teeth barred in a vicious howl of rage as his heart pounded in his chest. Images danced in his mind, the ethereal forms of all he held dear shimmering and fading, drifting on a wind of his own creation as he ploughed on, sending his battle-bruised body careening through the door.
 

****
 

Wood splintered around him, bullets arcing through the air as time slowed to a crawl. He watched, turning his head as his eyes tracked the bullet, its hot copper-coated form passing his face by millimetres.
 

Andrey appeared, filling his vision, the man's weapon chattering, its rapid muted cough puncturing the air as he sent a searing wall of lead and copper into all that stood, barring their way.
 

Baker turned his eyes back, training his gaze on the black-clad soldiers before him, his mind a cold, hard vacuum of pure incandescent rage. Rage poured from him in waves as he raised his pistol and curled his finger, feeling it tighten around the trigger as the slide bucked against his hand.
 

Derek watched the plumes of blood erupt from their forms as the .40 mm hollow-point rounds passed through their black-clad bodies. Bodies fell limp to the floor as the pulped and mangled contents of their shattered bodies burst forth like a cacophony of human geysers.
 

The shattered splinters of bone and blood, flesh and brain matter glimmered in the flickering lights as it landed with a wet splat on the cold, uncaring ground.
 

His breathing huffed through his ears, heels grinding against the floor as his back connected with the wall. Derek's heart pounded out a deep bass rhythm of life and death. A life born to punish, erasing the wickedness from the face of the world with a tide of unrelenting, unforgiving death.
 

Andrey crashed through the door as a bellowing wall of rage and death careened through the body-strewn corridor.
 

'Baker... Go!'
 

His eyes flared as Andrey lifted the leather-handled tomahawk from the base of his vest. His final magazine sat in the well of his pistol, the MP7 long gone, discarded in the maelstrom of death and destruction left in their wake.
 

'I've got this.'
 

Andrey shoved Baker back through the doorway, grabbing the cold steel of the handle as he wrenched the door closed; the echoing crash of steel on steel momentarily dulled the pall of noise rolling from the mouth of the corridor. Andrey grunted as he twisted his wrist, sending his weight down through his shoulder, shearing the handle from the door.
 

Derek stared through the Plexiglas at the black remorseful gaze that met his own. Nothing had to be said as Andrey nodded, his final words ringing in Baker's ears as he turned and squared his shoulders, his joints screaming as he rolled his neck, the heavy tension singing through his muscles.
 

'Go save them; do not fail like me!'
 

Andrey stared at the pistol in his hand as they stormed into the entryway, the door behind him standing as a flush reminder of the single outcome that had fallen at his feet. Steeling himself for the onslaught, he grinned as they began to close in.
 

'Come and face Andrey Gervasii, the Russian grim reaper!'
 

Shrugging out of the empty and useless assault vest, he swept it up with his foot launching the spinning mass of webbing and pouches into the faces of the three nearest approaching men.
 

The balaclava-covered faces tangled in the matte-black mass of assault gear screamed as Andrey dove forth; the pistol in his hand barking as he snapped his aim to the six men behind them. Andrey rolled bullets searing as he drove his tomahawk through the air, driving it down and through the top of the man's helmet-covered head. He watched as his eyes rolled backwards, the spray of cranial fluid bathing Andrey's face as he dragged the hawk free of the man's skull.
 

Gervasii bellowed as he snapped his aim to the left, the pistol roaring as heat-soaked copper casings spun through the air, searing his flesh as it burnt through his cotton silk blend shirt. The smell of his charred skin filled the air as his pistol continued spewing its lethal fire. Andrey's face twisted into a psychotic grin as he screamed in rage and bloodlust; a blaze of orange filled his vision as the forehead of the man in front of him evaporated. The man's head snapped back, crushing the throat of his partner as they continued to pour into the room.
 

Andrey's blood-chilling bellow filled their ears; with an energy born of rage and adrenaline, he launched his now empty sidearm at one of the men as he brought down his tomahawk, burying it deep into the chest of another soldier and dove forwards, roaring like the devil itself.
 

****
 

A deep rush of cold air filled him, chilling his soul as he raised his booted foot and kicked it backwards; the door crashed open, its dark void gaping wide as a grim smile twisted Derek's lips, his feet carrying him into the arms of the unknown, his body twisting, flowing over all in its path as the images continued to play past his eyes.
 

He watched the Infected tumble backwards over the banister, careening towards the unforgiving arms of the earth below. They flailed and screamed at him, hands clawing, eyes wide, and teeth bared as they fell. Their bodies bounced, bones shattering like porcelain, skin tearing like silk, casting a halo of crimson water around them as they finally and permanently came to their final stop.
 

Rolling forwards, he came to a halt, his knees biting into the cold tiles beneath him, the hard plates of his kneepads lost long ago in the deluge of screaming flesh and teeth. Harsh blue eyes tracked across the room as he finally let himself breathe. Derek's gaze stopped as he saw the pale mirage of satin blond hair and alabaster skin. The spooling trail of golden tresses flowed out from the still form in a halo as they lay still and lifeless on the cold emotionless floor.
 

Derek pushed himself to his feet as the Infected leapt forwards, their hands clawing at him as he batted them aside, his body reacting on instinct as he gazed upon the prostrate silhouette. Hands and feet tore at him, streaming around him like water over stones as his hands moved in a blur.
 

His mind was blank, a slate of purest black as he parried even the most desperate lunge. Grasping hands and bared teeth fell aside in droves as he tore free from the talon-like fingers tearing at his clothing. Their impotent, guttural cries of hunger and rage dripping off the air like rain from the clouds.
 

Derek kicked out, sending the Infected before him sliding over the tiles, the muted squeak of skin on ceramic rising up as it crashed into the wall. A dull crunch echoed through his mind as he shot a fist forwards, the snarling face to his right disappearing under the weight of his Kevlar-knuckled fist.
 

Baker's hand snapped out, blade clutched in his grip scything through all in its path as he pushed forwards, desperation rising in his gut as he stared at the still, motionless figure.
 

He watched with an emotionally vacant gaze as he stared at the shimmering droplets of arcing arterial spray that hung like diamonds in the bitter frost-stung air.
 

He spun over the ball of his left foot as he kicked out, sending his right crashing into the head of the nearest Infected; the dull crunch of shattering bone was lost in the deluge of noise as he charged forwards.
 

Ridgmont's eyes never left the scene of utter devastation, a cruel almost gleeful sneer curling his lips as he stared at the man below him, his mind burning with unadulterated joy as if he was watching a swimmer fight a tide they had no hope of overcoming and yet, through it all, he waited; standing over the blonde angel at his feet, Maria struggling in his grasp as he clutched at her chin, lifting her head up tight against his hip as he pulled her from the floor by the back of her tiny cotton dress; her eyes screamed out in pain and fear as small rivulets of blood seeped out from around Ridgmont's clawing nails as they sunk deeper into the tender flesh of her cheek.
 

Time collapsed in on itself as he reached them, his knees buckling as Derek staggered up the steps of the raised dais in the centre of the room. Its brick-built form raising them above the tumult of flesh that clogged the floor below. Derek's mind tumbled as his senses boiled over. Sound, taste, pain, scent all rushing in like a wave of boiling water as time realigned around him.
 

Its uncaring weight crushed him to the floor as his breathing rasped in his ears, his mind finally registering the hot beads of his own slowly leaking blood that was rolling down the side of his face. The soft scraping of nails over tiles rattled through him as he stared at the still, warm, motionless form of his wife.
 

His gaze lingered on the fallen angel at the feet of the devil. A shrill cry of pain and pleading fear shattered any thought in his mind as Maria's plaintive screams filled the room.
 

Derek's gaze snapped upwards as he bellowed, his body moving before any conscious decision was made. Everything around him ceased to exist as he charged, his eyes fixed firmly on the two people before him, the willow-thin vortex of pain and malice that had ensnared the only sources of light in Baker's rapidly dying world.
 

Ridgmont dropped Maria as Baker careened into him, the human embodiment of hate slithering past Derek as his daughter dropped from view, landing with a bone-jarring thump against the cold floor beneath them. Ridgmont's hand crashed into the back of Derek's neck, sending him to the floor in a crumbling heap of flesh and bone as his mind went blank.
 

The room swam and danced as he pushed himself up on all fours, bile and spittle dripped from his mouth as he coughed and wheezed, spitting into the pile of fluid slowly pooling between his hands.
 

'Oh my, are we feeling unwell, Baker?
 

'My, my, my, honestly, Derek, what would Janet and Maria think if they could see you like this, cowering on all fours like a dog when your darling daughter lies there crying for you? Can't you hear her calling you?
 

'Can't you hear her plaintive little whine?'
 

His voice rose an octave as he forced himself to mimic a small girl as he knelt beside Derek's slowly stirring form.
 

'Wah, wah, wah, wah; god, how infuriating.'
 

Ridgmont pushed himself upright as he sent a boot into Derek's ribs, the force of the blow driving the air from Baker's lungs as he slid across the floor, curling into the foetal position against the railings as he struggled to breathe.
 

'Pathetic; you and your snivelling little cunt of a child. Why don't you just curl up and die like that vapid little slice of slut cake that you called a wife?
 

'Oh my, was she a beautiful piece. Why I toyed with her for hours before I called you. I was honestly toying with the notion of breaking in that little cherry that you coddled so much, but then I saw your blonde slut squirming against the bonds I had her under and well... I'm only human.'
 

His voice dripped with a layer of self-indulgent glee. He cupped his scrotum in his hand and gave it a loving squeeze as he lifted Janet from the floor by her hair, cupping her chin with his free hand as he stared at Baker. A bubble of malevolent joy built within him as he looked at the pleading pair of eyes that bore into his own.
 

'Please... no... don't.'
 

Janet's eyes opened slowly, her emerald-green orbs locking onto her husband's as he reached forwards, his gloved hand straining as he pushed himself onto his knees. Her voice filled his ears as she whispered through the veil of pain and anaesthesia.
 

'Derek?'
 

'Oops, time's up.'
 

With a glee-filled smirk, Ridgmont's hands twisted as Janet's head snapped to the side, Ridgmont's fist crashing into her temple. Her hair spun in a halo of shimmering gold, the light dancing through it as her body shuddered. Ridgmont's fingers dug deep into her flesh. Janet's eyes widened for the briefest of moments, their shimmering countenance so full of life blinking into nothing almost instantly as she dropped from Ridgmont's grasp, her limp form falling with a dull thump to the floor.
 

'
No!'
 

Slowly, with shaking hands and a trembling heart, Derek tentatively reached out. His soul screamed at his mind, the pounding, broken, centre of his being refusing to accept what years on the battlefield told him to be true. Rolling Janet's limp form into his arms, his eyes travelled across her pale visage as she hung loose in his grasp, tears stinging his eyes as her head lolled backwards into the crook of his elbow.