The Lingering (6 page)

Archer leaped from his position and ran towards her. Several Lingerers lunged for him, but he took each of them out with a bullet at close range.

“Dallas,” screamed Bouchard over the radio, “cover the Boss; I’ll make sure his rear is kept clear!”

The clearing was now inundated with undead, and they all seemed to want a piece of Ada. Archer pulled out his knife and started stabbing it through the skulls of those closest to him. With his other hand, he continued to shoot at the Lingerers heading for Ada. Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around his neck and snatched him off his feet.

He slammed to the ground with the force of someone being tackled by a rugby player. Winded, he began to struggle with the thing intent on eating him alive. With a supreme effort, he managed to get one hand around its throat, and it took all his considerable might to hold its snarling jaws at bay. Then, without warning, its head exploded, covering him with bone and brain. He looked to his left, and saw Fairclough smiling at him. Archer didn’t have time to return his friend’s smile; he had to get to Ada.

He pulled his side arm and leaped to his feet once more. He saw three Lingerers dragging Ada towards the jungle. He hit his mike again.

“I’m going after Ada, the rest of you finish this now!”

He moved quickly, knocking Lingerers to one side as he went. It was dark, but he still had a good fix on the heat signatures of the three dragging Ada away. He heard her scream and almost froze, but his training pushed him on.

He tore into the jungle calling Ada’s name as he went. Just in front of him he spotted the head of one of the Lingerers, and he obliterated it with a single shot. A moment later he heard another scream, this time it sounded full of pain.

He burst into a tiny opening and saw the final two Lingerers ripping Ada’s abdomen to pieces. Her eyes met his, and without thinking, he finished the foul creatures with a bullet to each of their heads.

Archer fell to his knees beside his fallen teammate, and pushed the corpses off her mutilated body.

“Boss, I’m sorry I let you down.”

He looked at her half eaten intestines, and then turned his eyes to hers. “You didn’t let anyone down.”

She coughed, and blood spurted from her lips. “Boss, when I pass I don’t want to change … finish me before that happens.”

Archer knew there was no point trying to persuade her she wasn’t dying. They’d all seen what a single bite would do, let alone a full disembowelment.

“Ada, you’re one of my own, I would never let you turn into one of those things.”

She smiled and nodded weakly. “You’re a good man, Boss. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” She reached for his hand. “Boss …”

He lowered his ear to her mouth. “Yes, what is it.”

“We did good, didn’t we? I mean, this isn’t all pointless.”

He kissed her cheek. “You did good, and no, this isn’t pointless. One day The Lingering will be gone, and you played your part in making it happen.”

Ada let out a long sigh, and passed from the world. Archer held her hand for a moment, then stood and drew his sidearm. With a single shot to her head he kept his promise. Ada Bergmann would never join the ranks of The Lingering.

Location: nine miles from village 4521

Date: June 12
th
2012

Time: 8:45 p.m.

Archer re-entered the small clearing with his side arm raised, but he quickly lowered it as he took in the scene. In the time spent with Ada, the remaining members of his team had finished the task of subduing The Lingerers. Now all their attackers were either dispatched, or lay crippled by their wounds.

For close to a minute he watched on as Bouchard and Dallas went to each of the maimed Lingerers, and finished them with a bullet to the head.

“Boss, take a look at this.”

Archer turned to see Fairclough kneeling over a body; he held a blood covered knife in one hand. Up until that point Bouchard and Dallas had failed to notice his return, but now the large Parisian strode towards him.

“Where’s Ada, Boss?” asked Bouchard as he scanned the jungle behind his leader.

Archer shook his head slowly, and Bouchard stopped in his tracks. “Fuck, that’s a damn shame — did you take care of her?”

Archer holstered his weapon and nodded. “She won’t end up like one of these monstrosities, if that’s what you mean.”

Bouchard smiled weakly. “Sorry, Boss. I should know better than to think you would leave ‘er to change.” He turned and looked back at the clearing. “We found your MP5 and knife, Dallas has them.”

“Thanks, I dropped them when one of the biters tackled me.”

“Boss, I really need you to look at this.”

Archer looked towards Fairclough, then returned his gaze to the Frenchman. “Bouchard, make sure none of these things are left to crawl out of here. Then take Dallas and do a sweep of the area. We need to make sure there are no more of these things lurking out there.”

Bouchard nodded. “Sure, Boss. We are almost done ‘ere, we’ll start the recky as soon as we’re done.”

Archer patted the immense man’s muscular shoulder, then headed for Fairclough. He drew to a stop beside his old battle companion, and then squatted beside him.

“What you found, Pete?”

Fairclough stared at Archer, “Sorry about Ada, I know how hard it is for you to lose a member of the team.”

Archer’s eyes remained fixed on the mutilated body before him. “It’s a part of the job that never gets any easier. Anyway, what have you got?”

Fairclough stared at his old friend for a moment, then returned his attention to the corpse. “As soon as the fighting stopped I started dispatching Lingerers along with Bouchard and Dallas. I came to one with its insides ripped open from gunfire. After I put a bullet in its head, I noticed something. Its insides were empty, it hadn’t fed. I’ve cut open five so far, and they’re all the same.”

Archer rubbed his chin. “So they’ve been baited. Someone either gave them blood, then pointed them this way, or they’re following a scent trail that’s been set down for them.”

Fairclough nodded. “That’s what I think. Have you noticed anything else about them?”

Archer stood and pulled a torch from his belt. “Turn off your night vision, fellas, I’m about to shine some light on our friends.”

He waited a moment for his men to switch off their goggles, then turned on the intensely bright light. He moved from one body to the next, staring at each intently. He then turned and walked back to Fairclough.

“They’re all Caucasian, they’re not indigenous to this area. They’re also really fresh. These things have only become Lingerers within the last month or so.”

Fairclough nodded and stood. “That’s right. You know what that means?”

Archer nodded slowly. “Someone shipped them here just to take out that village. But who would have the kind of resources to do that?”

Fairclough shrugged. “I don’t know, but we need to ramp up defences in the area.”

“Agreed, I’ll contact HQ and tell them what we’ve found. In the meantime, give the others a hand sweeping the area. While you three do that, I’ll set about burying Ada.”

“Okay, Boss. Where are we going to camp for the night?”

Archer shone his torch towards where their teammate lay. “Ada’s just through there; we’ll camp by her grave. In the morning we’ll head for the village.” Archer shut off his torch. “Okay, guys, back to night vision.”

***

Archer, Bouchard, Fairclough and Dallas stood on the outskirts of village 4521 in full bio-protection regalia. The mid-day sun beat down on them at close to one hundred degrees, which meant the suits climate systems had to battle to keep their inhabitants from frying. The group had been waiting for close to an hour for permission to enter the village, and all knew no one would set foot in the settlement without the clearance of HQ. Finally, Archer’s earpiece fed him the news they’d all been waiting for.

“Sparrow Leader, this is Sparrow’s Nest. You now have permission to proceed. Dr Bartholomew has been informed and she is on her way to meet you.”

As if on cue, a figure in a bio-protection suit approached their position. At the figures side strode a native of the region. Archer guessed the man to be the village’s Chief.

“Acknowledged, I have an eyeball on Dr Bartholomew now. Sparrow Leader out.”

The two drew to a stop, and the figure clad in the bio-suit looked up and down the line of men stood at the edge of the village.

“Which one of you is Nathan Archer?”

Archer extended his hand. “I am. I take it you’re Dr Bartholomew.”

“That’s right,” said Bartholomew as she shook his hand. “And this is Nisio Popygua, he’s the village’s Chief.”

Archer shook the man’s hand. “Doctor, our suits are at their limits under this sun. Do you have somewhere we might speak?”

“Of course. Gentlemen, if you would follow me.”

Bartholomew led them to an immense temporary structure set up at the rim of the village. In the distance, Archer could hear generators humming away as they supplied the power for the structure. Large filtration and air conditioning systems added to the hum. The group drew to a stop at a set of Perspex doors, and Bartholomew turned to them.

“I’m guessing you’ve all been through this before, but I’ll remind you again. Once inside we will pass through two airlocks, the first is a barrier to the outside. The second is where you remove your suits. No one passes back out of airlock two without a suit. Is that clear?”

All four men nodded, and Bartholomew led them inside. The door between airlock one and two remained shut until the door to the outside world closed, only then did the door to airlock two open. Once inside the second airlock, all five began to strip from their stifling suits.

Archer stripped down to his sweat drenched fatigues and luxuriated in the cool air being blown onto his dripping skin. He placed his bio-suit in one of the lockers lining the walls, then removed his drenched shirt and began to mop himself down with it. As he wiped the sweat from his body, he turned to look at those in the airlock with him.

Fairclough sat on one of the few chairs and looked completely exhausted. Bouchard and Dallas talked quietly as they dried themselves with their shirts. His gaze turned to Dr Kathryn Bartholomew, and for a moment she held him spellbound.

He had expected some craggy faced shrew who had dedicated her life to her research. Instead, a beautiful young woman with long auburn hair, and a smoking body, stood before him. He smiled to himself, and mused at how young she looked. But then again, almost everyone looked young to him since he turned forty-five. Hell, he was old enough to be Dallas’s dad ... well almost old enough. It was then he noticed Dr Bartholomew returning his gaze, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. He felt like a dirty old man staring at a girl on a beach.

He started to turn away, but stopped when she spoke.

“How did you get those?”

He turned back to her. “Get what?”

She pointed at his well-muscled chest. “How did you get those scars?”

He looked down at the latticework of scars which adorned his chest and upper abdomen. “Oh these, I got too close to a pack of feeding Lingerers, and they turned on me.”

She walked towards him with her eyes fixed on his ancient wounds. “I don’t see any bite marks, you were very lucky.”

“I was lucky that Fairclough was there to pull me free, and then he dealt with them.”

She looked into his eyes, and he felt astounded by how blue hers were. “You mean he killed them?”

Archer smiled. “Doctor, you can’t kill something that is already dead.”

She stopped in her tracks and scowled at him. “The Lingering are not dead, they are simply people transformed.”

Bouchard laughed. “Transformed is right. All the Lingerers I ‘ave ever met have tried to eat me. Only animals act that way.”

She turned to look at him. “Firstly, I hate the term, ‘Lingerers’, they are to be referred to as The Lingering. Secondly, they are not animals, they are people. The Lingering only become violent once exposed to human blood or flesh, otherwise they are completely harmless.”

“Well I’m sorry, Doc, but the only Lingering we deal with are the hungry kind,” said Archer barely concealing his anger at her comments. “And the hungry kind is far from harmless. I’ve lost over thirty people to them in the past twenty years, the last one just a few hours ago.”

Bartholomew returned her gaze to him. “Where is your infected colleague? We should handle their change with dignity.”

“There won’t be any, ‘change’, as you put it. I dispatched her.”

Bartholomew’s eyes went wide. “But that’s murder!”

“That’s not murder,” yelled Fairclough as he got to his feet. “That’s a God damn kindness. You may deal with the placid ones, but we deal with the ones that want to eat you. All of us have an agreement; we won’t become one of those things. Now if that upsets your sensibilities, then fucking excuse us!”

“Fairclough, enough!” barked Archer. “I’m sorry, doctor, but opinions of The Lingering vary wildly. No one is right or wrong, so please can we get on with our briefing?”

She nodded. “Of course, follow me.”

The door from airlock two to her lab opened, and Archer placed his shirt back on. He jerked his head at his men, and they all headed to the next room.

After some food and drinks, Archer headed to the front of the lab and looked at those assembled. On one side of the room sat his men, on the other sat Dr Bartholomew and the rest of her team.

He cleared his throat and began. “As you all know attacks on the clean have increased tenfold in the past year, and the protection agency is struggling to counter the attacks. As of yet, we have no clear idea of why the attacks have increased, or who is behind them. But this we do know – the attacks are becoming more violent, more frequent and harder to predict. In fact whoever these people are, they are now using The Lingering as a weapon.” He looked towards Bartholomew and noted her approval of his usage of the word, ‘Lingering’. “The agency has decided the best way to protect the clean, is to centralize the remaining villagers to one defendable location.”

Bartholomew stood and raised her hand.

“Yes, doctor.”

“That is out of the question, we
cannot
simply rip these people from their homes.”

Archer nodded. “I understand your misgivings, but we have no choice. In the past week alone my team has lost two villages, and we only managed to save this one by the skin of our teeth.”

Bartholomew shook her head, and said, “No, we can’t move this village. The protection agency will simply have to send more men.”

“There are no more men to send,” replied Archer. “Budgets have been cut, and recruitment is down. The agency barely had enough personnel before the attacks increased. Now it’s stretched to breaking point. Doctor, if you want these villagers to survive, then we have to move them to a safe zone. I’m no happier about it than you are, but we have no choice.”

Bartholomew sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Very well, how soon will the move begin?”

“The choppers have been ordered for later today. My men and I will hold position outside the village until the evac is finished, then we’ll head for the next village.”

Bartholomew turned and whispered to her colleagues, then returned her attention to him. “We won’t have time to dismantle this unit, or gather all our equipment.”

“Then leave it all. Just take your data, and we’ll arrange to have everything else sent to you.”

“Okay, Mr Archer, you win.”

“It’s not about winning or losing, Doctor. It’s about making sure the clean survive. Now if you’ll excuse us, my men and I have work to do.”

Archer strode towards the airlock with his men hot on his heels. After suiting up, they returned to their duties of guarding the village.

He and his team held a defensive position just outside the settlement until the last of the clean were in the air. Darkness was closing fast, so they camped the night and began their long trek to the next clean village in the morning.