Josh nears, but his step falters as his Dad’s head starts to rise up from his chest. Josh is shocked by his appearance, his face almost grey, drained of blood and sweaty. His eyes are darkly glazed and half-shut. Most shocking of all, however, are the three trailing cuts across his left cheek, running down towards his chin. The horror of those wounds is not lost on Josh; he has been clawed by one of the two dead Rabids on the office floor. His Dad is infected.
Now Josh does think he is going to be sick, his head spinning, he can’t breathe.
“Josh, is that you?”
Is Josh hearing things? He must be, he thinks to himself; can the Zombies talk now?
“Dad?”
“Josh, what are you doing here, you should be going back to base, to Emily?”
“I came to find you, Dad. What happened?”
“I got scratched, I think I’m infected. Sorry, Josh.”
“You got nothing to be sorry for, how do you feel?”
“Terrible, son, I feel terrible, thirsty.”
“Downey, get down here pronto, we have a medical situation,” Dixon orders into his radio.
Josh grabs a glass from the sink, fills it with water and goes down to his Dad, offering the glass to his cracking lips. Andy manages to drink some of the water down but then starts coughing and retching.
“Pills on the side; give me two of each,” Andy manages to say.
Josh does, not knowing what else to do, he puts them in his dad’s mouth and raises the glass again.
“Thanks, son.”
“Shit,” Downey says as he arrives at the doorway next to Dixon, a look of shock on his face.
“Anything you can do?” Dixon asks him.
“I brought some rabies antiviral shots with me. I doubt they will do any good?”
“Well, why did you bring them?”
“All I could think of in case I got bit, silly really,” Downey says, slightly embarrassed.
“Give him one,” Josh urges.
“I really don’t think it will do any good.”
“Do it!”
Downey unclips the strap from around chest and shrugs off his medi-backpack. He goes down on his haunches, putting the pack in front of him, unzips the top and rummages inside. He rises holding a pair of latex gloves, a sealed packet and a small plastic wallet, with the top open showing four syringes. Putting on the gloves, he slides a syringe out.
“Put your head back against the cupboard please, Captain,” Downey asks, bending down in front of Andy. He covers his nervousness of being so close to an infected person well.
Downey inspects the wounds, rips open the sealed antiseptic wipe and cleans off the wounded area.
“Hold his head still,” he asks Josh as he prepares the syringes. “This is going to hurt, Captain, try not to move.”
Andy says something unintelligible under his breath, his dry lips barely able to move. Downey lines up the injection in between the top two cuts on Andy’s cheek and then pushes the needle into the flesh. He is careful not to go too deep and risk the needle popping out of the inside of the cheek. The plunger goes all the way down, pumping the serum into the cheek.
Josh loses his grip on his dad’s head as the injection goes in. Andy, enraged by the searing pain, pulls his head free and growls harshly at the perpetrator. Downey stumbles backwards, almost falling over, shocked by the reaction and afraid Andy was going to bite him.
Josh, shocked too, moves his hands away and gets up.
“Sorry, that hurt, a lot,” Andy manages to say.
“It’s okay, Dad, don’t worry; it looked painful,” Josh tries to comfort.
“That’s just the first injection, three others are supposed to be taken over the next fourteen days,” Downey says, recovering somewhat.
Andy’s head flops down uncontrollably. It then comes up again, his unrecognisable eyes looking for Josh.
“It’s time for you to go, Josh, you’re going to have to leave me here.”
“No, Dad, we will take you out of here, somewhere safe and I’ll stay with you, help you fight it.”
“I’m not going anywhere; you have to get back to Emily. There is no other way, you know that.”
“He is right, Josh,” Dixon says. “We have to move out, now.”
“Leave me those injections and any other supplies you can spare.”
Josh has to accept the inevitable. Dixon and Downey unload themselves of all the supplies they can, as does Josh, finally. They put the stuff into separate piles on the floor, ammo, medical, food and a pile of other stuff like batteries. The food pile is small, only a few ration packs, energy bars and some chocolate. Downey puts the wallet of injections down onto the floor next to Andy’s M4, making sure he knows they are there.
“Help me take my helmet off,” Andy asks weakly. Josh does and puts it onto the floor with the rest of the kit. “Dixon, can you take Sir Malcolm out of here, put him on the couch?”
Dixon and Downey go to move the body out.
“Josh,” Andy says, his head moving around slightly as if he has trouble seeing his son.
“I’m here, Dad.”
“Go to your sister, don’t let anybody separate you. Colonel Reed gave me his word we could leave after this mission.”
“I will.”
“Tell Emily I was killed quickly. Tell her the truth when she is older if you feel you have to. She won’t handle it yet. Look after each other, whatever happens. But it won’t be easy, especially now.
“I know how you feel about her, but see if you can reach your mum, forgive her, okay?”
“Yes, Dad, I will, I will make sure Emily is safe and well.”
“Thanks, son, I love you both, tell Emily for me.”
“She knows that, but I’ll tell her.”
“Fight this, Dad, you have to fight it, promise me,” Josh says taking his dad’s hand in his, it feels so cold.
“I promise. Now go.”
Josh places his Dad’s hand back down on the floor by his side and reluctantly gets up. Dixon is back in the doorway waiting for Josh. Downey has already gone back onto the roof with Alice. Josh has a thought and unclips the light from his rifle, switching it off. It’s only a matter of time until the batteries in the torch on the sink-top drain.
“Dad, I’m putting a torch into your hand for when you need it; can you feel it?”
“Yes Josh, I’ve got it.”
“Keep fighting, Dad, I love you. Contact us if you can okay?”
“I will look after your sister, Josh. Now get out of here.”
Josh gets up again and turns away from his Dad, whose head is dropping to his chin again. Dan flashes into his mind, lying on his back on the roof with his Dad standing over him, pointing his pistol. Josh cannot contemplate doing the same for his Dad or anyone else using that remedy. Josh and Dixon’s eyes meet for a second, Josh knows what he is thinking but nothing is said and thankfully, Dixon turns to leave.
Josh pauses at the door, taking one last look at his Dad before he leaves and pushes the door gently closed behind him. Tears well up in Josh’s eyes, he feels like he is shutting him into his tomb and the guilt of having to leave him behind is too much to bear.
Epilogue
Alders gains height from the roof of the Orion building, finally able to leave the godforsaken place behind. The rain lashes onto his windscreen, the wipers just about managing to handle clearing enough water to give him sufficient visibility. The risk of a lightning bolt hitting the Lynx has passed, along with the thunder. There is just the heavy wind and rain to deal with now.
With both of the hold doors shut, the helicopter is starting to warm up, bringing welcome relief to four soaked passengers sitting in near silence in the hold. There is no silence in their heads, unfortunately; along with the remnants of the battle ringing in their ears, dark thoughts start to fester.
Josh has gone into himself and sits in total silence, trying not to let the shock of the mission—knowing his father is infected and being fo
rced to leave him behind—envelop him completely. His mind fights to not fall off an edge, as he knows that is the last thing his dad would want. He has to be strong for Emily and he will be. She will need him more than ever now.
Alice tries to comfort him, to reassure him with little success. She doesn’t give up though, she keeps talking to him from time to time and tries to make him eat something. She understands it will take time for him to come around and she will be there to help him.
The Lynx makes good progress despite the weather and it is soon touching down in Richmond to pick up the rest of the team and the holdall. With everybody on board, the Lynx is overcapacity and the hold is full. Alders is confident the helicopter will handle the extra weight and he is careful when he takes back off. The Lynx’s engines strain and protest but they take the helicopter up to resume their journey back to base.
The precious holdall is pushed under a seat, the whole team hoping the fucking thing was worth it.
To Be Continued
CAPITAL FALLING 3 - RESURGENCE
Chapter 1
Silence throbs inside Lieutenant Winters’ head, like an empty cavern. A low buzz of static, the only faint noise his headset generates, starts to fry his brain.
He thought he had wanted the noise to stop. The gunfire and desperate voices from his team that radio waves had been sending from the mission and into his head had seemed endless. Now the silence is enveloping him, the cost of the mission cutting him as sharply as any knife would. Yet he barely knew Andy and Dan—so why is their loss affecting him so hard?
Fatigue is playing its part, for sure. Winters has been involved in plenty of critical missions to understand that adrenaline fades and the body relapses. But even so, he has lost team members before that he knew better than Andy and Dan, and he can’t remember it immediately hitting him this full-on before.
Winters' hands rush up to either side of his head, take hold of the headset and yank it off. He throws the headset across and onto the table in front of him with force. It crashes onto the surface, sliding over the polished top and hitting the computer monitor.
The sound of the storm outside replaces the static in his exposed ears, which feel chilled in the fresh air. The wind is strong, battering the closed roller shutter door, making it rattle in its runners.
Pull yourself together, he thinks to himself, wondering where his usual deeply instilled resilience has gone. He struggles to, however, and can’t seem to motivate himself to even get out of his chair; in fact, he slouches further into it.
Alone in the hangar with only the storm for company, Winters’ eyes start to flicker closed, his eyelids feeling impossibly heavy. Has he underestimated his fatigue? He has been in a constant state of stress in the last two days, hardly slept and not eaten properly. Surely, resting his eyes for a few minutes is only fair and well deserved.
An image of Andy boarding the Lynx for his fateful mission flashes across Winters’ waning mind. The image causes his stomach to burn and he forces his eyes open. How can he sit here feeling sorry for himself when others have made the ultimate sacrifice? Gradually, he feels his resilience start to return, together with his determination.
As he was starting to doze, the rest of the team would have been drawing closer, returning to base. Winters scolds himself for his lapse in concentration and reaches to retrieve the headset. Preparations need to be made for their return and time is short.
“Flight Lieutenant Alders, receiving, over.”
“Receiving, over,” Alders responds almost immediately.
“How is the team, over?”
“Quiet, over.”
“What’s your ETA, over?”
“Approximately nine minutes, over.”
“Good, have you been given your LZ point, over?
“LZ1, over.”
“Okay, follow flight instructions and I’ll meet you in the landing zone.”
“Received, over and out.”
The dejection in Alders’ voice is plain to hear, Winters thinks. He himself, embarrassingly, had nearly forgotten about the loss of Buck. How close the two pilots were, he doesn’t know—but judging by Alders’ voice, they were close enough.
Now he does force himself out of the chair, pushing himself up wearily on the arms of the chair, his energy not completely returned yet. Leaning over to the table and taking the computer mouse in his hand, he clicks onto the Windows icon on the screen and clicks ‘shut down’. Then standing upright, he stretches out his back while he watches as the computer goes through its motions of shutting off.
After gathering his belongings from the tabletop, Winters takes one last look around the dismal hangar to check he hasn’t left anything. He doesn’t look back before he flicks the switch to turn off the hangar’s lights and opens the door into the storm.
Outside, the wind is strong, but not as strong as Winters had assumed it would be. He had underestimated the ferocity of the rain though, which threatens to soak him to the bone, even on his short run over to the black Defender parked nearby. Jumping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him, Winters shakes off his soaked hair whilst attempting to dry his hands on his trousers.
The Defender’s engine roars into life, but before his hand reaches the gear stick, his phone starts to vibrate in the breast pocket of his sand-coloured shirt. Pausing for a second, instinctively knowing who is causing his phone to vibrate, he debates letting the phone ring out. The Defender’s windscreen wipers swipe past his eyes three times before he gives in and reaches for his pocket.
“Report, Lieutenant,” Colonel Reed’s pompous voice demands.
How satisfying would it be to shove his phone down Reed’s throat, Winters puzzles before answering?
“I am leaving the hangar for the landing zone now Colonel; their ETA is about five minutes, Sir.”
“Good, bring the package to me directly, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With his phone back in his pocket, Winters reverses away from the hangar, in absolutely no rush to return to it.
On the short drive towards Terminal 4 where the landing zone is situated, Winters is surprised by how much standing water there is. Large puddles dance all around as more raindrops plunge into them, adding to their size. Spray rushes up from the puddles as the wheels of the Defender cuts through the water. The sight and sound of the water cascading up and away calms him somewhat and he drifts into the bigger puddles to increase the ferocity of the spray.
His little game comes to an end too quickly as he nears the cordoned-off area of the landing zone. Strange how a little fun and games affect a person, but the self-administered therapy has helped revitalise him more, and he almost feels back to himself again.
Two soldiers are manning a row of bollards that cuts off the entry into the landing zone, their SA80 rifles held across their bodies. The airport workers in their hi-vis jackets that were manning the opposite entry earlier in the day are now nowhere to be seen. The poor chap Winters had his altercation with—and threatened to run over—probably had something to say about it and so the security was beefed up.
As he approaches the bollards, the two soldiers, who must have pissed somebody off to be given this assignment in this weather, stand their ground in front of the entry. They both look like ghouls in the dark, kitted out in their dark-green military issue ponchos, the only protection they have against the shocking weather.
Winters comes to a steady stop in front of them, not wanting to give them any cause to raise their rifles. Thankfully, once he has halted, one of the soldiers leaves his position and walks around to the driver’s window. Winters really didn’t fancy having to get out of his shelter to address them, and foolishly, he’s left his overcoat in the command tent.
“Flight and mission personnel only beyond this point,” the shivering soldier tells Winters through the half-open driver’s side window.
“I am collecting a mission package that will be landing imminently, let me through, soldier.�
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“Flight and mission personnel only beyond this point, turn your vehicle around.”
Winters doesn’t come close to losing his temper this time, as the young drenched soldier is only following orders.
“How long have you been out here, soldier?”
“Nearly two hours.”
“That’s two hours, Sir.”
“Yes Sir, sorry Sir.”
“I am collecting a package for Colonel Reed; move the bollards, soldier.”
As always, the name drop instils the required amount of fear into the young soldier. He immediately straightens his shivering back and then waves to his partner to move the bollards.
“Thank you, soldier, how much longer are you on duty for?”
“Who knows, I think they have probably forgotten we are here, Sir.”
“I’ll see what I can do, terrible night for it.”
“Thank you, Sir, the rain is easing off now, Sir, I think.”
“Can you point me in the direction of LZ1?”
“Over to the left, toward the terminal building, Sir,” the soldier says, turning and pointing in the direction.
“Thank you, soldier, carry on.”
As the car window goes up, the soldier salutes the Lieutenant.
Winters, as he pulls forward towards the open entry, decides that the soldier is indeed correct, and the rain is easing off. The Defender’s wipers now trigger only intermittently, to account for the sparser and smaller raindrops.
The Defender veers to the left as it enters the landing zone, taking a wide berth away from the landing points that are now on the right. Helicopters, mostly Apache Attack are constantly landing and taking off and rain or not, personnel are scattered all around. The majority are there to service the newly landed helicopters, getting them ready for take-off and onto their next mission. The rest of the personnel are either flight crew or soldiers, either disembarking from their mission or embarking ready for take-off.
The helicopter landing area has the landing point numbers painted large and bold onto the tarmac in yellow and encloses them in a large white painted circle. Each zone also has a sign next to it with its number on, making it easier for the ground staff to identify them.
Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 46