Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Winkless, Lance

  Winters himself participates in many of these tasks as part of his position and rank. He makes sure he is involved with any and all new procedures and training that will keep him at the top of his game.

  Winters nods at various people he sees and has had dealings with, and they all acknowledge him back. They all know he is the right-hand man of the Colonel and that affords him their respect, some envy and probably some sympathy. Winters has little time for their feelings, however, and is hardly friendly with any of the other personnel; he prefers it that way, as it doesn’t confuse matters.

  Sure enough, Colonel Reed is at the centre of events. He stands tall directly in front of the bank of monitors, his grey-haired head moving from side to side as he follows the action laid out before him. The Colonel is surrounded by the usual cronies and yes men, who are far enough up the Colonel, they must surely smell his crack.

  Winters assumes his colleagues consider him to be one of these ass-kissing plebs and maybe they are correct to a certain extent, but they are also wrong in many ways. Winters didn’t come from the same kind of privileged background as the other men surrounding the Colonel. Winters came from a family of divorced parents, went to a normal state school and worked shifts to put himself through college. After college, he had a choice, to lumber himself with debt and go to university or choose another path. Winters chose the Army and plans to get to the top of his chosen profession, even if it means kissing some ass on his way.

  “Excuse me, Colonel, Sir, I have the package.”

  The Colonel makes a show of ignoring Winters for a moment as if something vital is happening on the screens in front of him. Winters is well used to his idiosyncrasies and waits patiently for him to respond, not letting himself get agitated or annoyed by his show.

  “Put it over there,” Colonel Reed says, keeping his back to Winters and indicating with his head where he wants it.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Winters takes the holdall over to an empty table which has been clearly set up ready to receive the contents of it. He places the bags onto the table, takes a step back and waits. The Colonel’s show proceeds for another minute or two before he turns and walks across.

  “A successful mission then, eh Winters?” the Colonel states as he arrives at the table, closely followed by the other officers.

  Colonel Reed knows full well that completing the mission has cost three men their lives; he knows everything, or so he likes to think. The Colonel had known Andy Richards for many years, back from when Andy was in the military and more lately from his dealings with Andy through his position at Orion Securities. This is of little consequence to Reed, though, as he shows no feelings of remorse for the three men, no matter how long he had known them or what effect their loss may have on their families.

  The mission is everything as far as he is concerned, and to him, the mission goal was achieved as is proved by the evidence on the table in front of him. The three men’s lives are collateral damage, a means to an end that will show everyone he’s indispensable and help keep him in his position of power.

  The man is a power-hungry authoritarian brute and Winters debates whether to take his sidearm out of its holster and show him just how indispensable he really is.

  “The mission goal was achieved, Sir,” Winters says through gritted teeth.

  “Very good Lieutenant, I knew I could count on you to get it done.”

  “Sir.”

  “Major Rees, let’s see what Sir Malcolm was hoarding shall we?” Colonel Reed instructs.

  Major Rees is the latest addition to Colonel Reed’s entourage, his expert on the virus. And he is the man who oversaw the doomed facility and was at ground zero when the outbreak happened; he steps forward, extremely uncomfortable in his new position and he would be far happier back in his laboratory or behind his desk.

  “Sir, the bag should be examined under controlled conditions, in a laboratory with all the necessary precautions taken,” Major Rees protests.

  “Poppycock, Major, the bag is here, get on with it!”

  Colonel Reed has no intention of giving up his prize and Major Rees hasn’t the confidence to force him to.

  As if by magic, a pair of latex gloves appear in the Major’s hands and he pulls them on, his fingers wriggling into them. Gently and deliberately, he places his hands on the holdall as if the contents inside are fragile and if any wrong move is made, something inside could break and cause another viral release. Slowly, he pulls the zip along the top of the bag open and pulls the two sides apart. He peers inside the bag, checking the contents for the longest time, only his head moving as he scans. If only he knew the rough handling the contents and the holdall has already received. The contents were stuffed in without ceremony and the holdall has since been thrown around, bashed and kicked.

  An uneasiness has spread around the table as the men see Major Rees’s caution. Nobody says a word, and even Colonel Reed’s bluster is retreating. Now, he is leaning back, away from the Major’s operation with a funny turned-up-nose look on his face, as if that would save him if something were suddenly released.

  Major Rees’s caution does not falter. He is obviously very proficient in handling delicate and possibly hazardous materials, which everyone is relieved to see. Slowly, he lifts items out and places them in order onto the table. Sir Malcolm’s safe had contained a variety of different things—numerous paper files and paperwork—which the Major stacks in one pile. A passport, old photographs, an Omega watch, a box of bullets and four wads of fifty-pound notes, each wad containing at least two hundred notes.

  “Bingo,” the Major says quietly to himself as he lifts out a locking plastic box with a dark transparent lid. Inside the box, lined up for them all to see are floppy disks, the small hard plastic types, used before computer storage went digital.

  When the Major finally finishes, the table’s covered in items, and he takes a step back and clasps his hands behind him. His eyes continue to dart between the items on the table for a while until he finally looks up to Colonel Reed.

  “Well Major, what is your prognosis?” the Colonel demands, leaning forward again.

  “It looks promising, Colonel, but I can’t say for sure any of it will be useful until we have had a chance to go through and study the paperwork and computer storage disks, if the disks are even still viable, Sir.”

  “And how long will that take, Major?”

  “How long is a piece of string, Sir?”

  “It’s as long as I fucking say it is, soldier,” Reed growls.

  “Yes, Sir, sorry Sir; what I meant to say is, with the right equipment and the right team, two, maybe three hours until we know if there is any data related to the viral infection. We would then have to study that data if we find it, Sir.

  “You have two hours to find out if there is anything useful here, Major. Lieutenant Winters will get you what you need to proceed. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Major Rees opens up the holdall again and starts replacing the items back inside, ready to take them away to wherever he will be taken by the Lieutenant. He picks up one of the bundles of fifty-pound notes, unsure what to do with all the money.

  “What shall I do with this, Sir?” Rees asks, holding up the bundle just as the Colonel and his cronies turn away from the table, done with the Major for now.

  “Is it relevant to your analysis, Major?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Then give it to Lieutenant Winters, he will take care of it,” Colonel Reed says, looking at Winters for a second, before carrying on moving away.

  Winters knows exactly what will happen to the money. The Colonel will leave it in his care for a suitable amount of time until it is forgotten about and then it will disappear into the Colonel's coffers. He is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as Winters knows well.

  “What is the latest report on the progress of Operation Denial, Sir?” Winters asks Major Rees as he hands over the wads of cash for Winters to stuff into
his satchel.

  “Bad, Lieutenant; our forces are making little progress in clearing the city and forcing the infected people east. The area is so large there are simply too many streets and buildings to clear. Most zones are bogged down in trying to clear their areas and engaging in running battles with the infected. And of course, if our troops lose a battle or even a skirmish, they invariably turn and are added to the army of infected, so it’s a double-edged sword.”

  “So, I take it there is a lot riding on you finding something in those files, Sir?”

  “I think Command are pinning their hopes on a cure or a weapon being found in this bag. I’ve told the Colonel numerous times that it is a long shot, but he doesn’t want to listen.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the least, Sir.”

  “The man is an acquired taste, that is for certain,” Major Rees says, nervous about deriding the Colonel in front of his assistant.

  “He certainly is,” Winters confirms, also keeping his opinion to himself. “Okay, let’s get you set up with what you need, Sir,” he adds as the Major finishes repacking the holdall.

  Chapter 4

  The flesh on its body burns like volcanic lava, the skin threatening to melt away and drip from its body, its organs boiling, adding to the excruciating searing pain. Encased within its melting body are its bones which feel as brittle as if they had been dipped and frozen in liquid nitrogen, and the slightest impact would risk making them splinter, crack and break.

  Movement is impossible, the agony too great. The half-dead creature is motionless in the pitch black with only its nightmares for company.

  The creature retches uncontrollably. Toxic, acid bile oozes out of its gaping mouth, flowing down its body and legs onto the floor to join the shit and piss already pooled there. Its retching causes its body to convulse, involuntarily sending its pain level rocketing to greater, unknown heights. Passing out from the agony, oblivion brings temporary relief from the torture.

  Memories flash through the creature’s unconscious mind while it is passed out, the pain blocked by its brain. Fleeting memories of its children disappear too quickly to grab and hold onto.

  Images swirl around in its brain from across its life, some happy ones, ones it is unconsciously grateful to see again, but they are overpowered by images the creature would rather forget. Images from its years on the battlefield, the blood and guts of the twisted bodies of its enemies and comrades. The terrible images move out of focus, only to be replaced by other horrific images. The creature’s mind had buried them years ago but now they are unlocked and gush out like blood from a slit artery, coming to torment it.

  Consciousness returns, bringing the impossible agony with it. More bile bubbles from deep within the creature and starts to rise through its gut. ‘No, no,’ its mind screams, it cannot go through another bout of retching, the pain is too much to bear. It can feel the noxious fluid rising though, and it cannot be stopped; the creature’s dry mouth liquifies and the inevitable retching begins again. The creature tries to accept the excruciating pain the retching delivers, tries to let the fluid evacuate its guts, to get it over with. It tries to blank it all out and let it happen.

  Thick fluid bile bursts from its throat in streams, following down its usual path to the floor. Revolting chunks follow the liquid and the creature has to cough them up through its throat and spit them out to stop itself choking, its pain levels soaring higher. Is the virus rejecting its body’s organs? Are they being liquified and ejected through its mouth, no longer required?

  The remnants of the creature’s mind attempt to figure out what is happening to it, but its thoughts are a jumbled mess, incoherent, the agony overriding everything. The creature’s hand twitches in the hope that the Glock is still in it so that it can raise it to its temple, squeeze the trigger and end this nightmare, but the creature’s hand is empty.

  A chunk is wedged in the creature’s throat and it prepares for the onslaught of pain that will hit when it has to try and dislodge it. Before it can prepare, though, the creatures body spasms and the coughing starts in reflex to clear its throat. The coughing causes more retching, yet the chunk remains lodged. The creature’s brain is overloaded with pain as the spasms increase and it starts to shut down. Any semblance of balance is lost as it spasms and its body tilts and slides sideways across the cupboards behind it until its tilt goes past the point of no return. The creature's body falls slowly down onto the floor and onto its side. Thankfully the creature’s brain has shut down and only its unconsciousness saves it from the agony of the fall.

  This time, there are no memories or images to accompany it, only darkness and oblivion.

  Chapter 5

  Josh feels his sister’s sobbing has calmed slightly. Emily lies against him as they sit on the couch facing the TV where Emily and Stacey were when he arrived.

  Emily has taken the news of her Dad as badly as Josh had feared. She is still too young for any attempt to put a brave face on it; her emotion and feeling had flooded out immediately. She couldn’t hold it back as she didn’t know how to, and why should she?

  Josh had cried somewhat with her, but he didn’t let himself go. He did have to be brave, if that is the right word, and suppress the majority of his emotion for his loss. He had to be brave for Emily, he had to support her, since she came first now. Was he starting to unconsciously think and feel like their Dad did, thinking of his sister before all else?

  If so, something tells him that that feeling is only going to get stronger as he starts to take full responsibility for Emily. Josh knows that is what his dad would have wanted, but perhaps he isn’t only going to do it for that reason. Perhaps he takes after his Dad in some ways and he is doing it because he feels it, an unexplainable feeling. Is this the feeling that only a parent would know or a surrogate parent as Josh is now? Josh knows one thing for sure; he is more than just a brother to his sister. He is also her guardian.

  “Emily?” Josh says reassuringly, looking down at the blonde curls below him but getting no response. “Emily, shall we go downstairs and see what there is to eat?” Still no response, but Josh persists; he wants to try and take her mind off what has happened a bit and a change of scenery will help. “Come on, Emily, I’m quite hungry, will you come with me?” He moves his body under her a little bit to help try and stir her.

  “Umm,” Emily growls and fidgets, and it isn’t much of a response, but it is one.

  Catherine, who sits with her legs curled up to the side of the couch, in an armchair, starts to stir. Her head has been down too, her hair covering her face. Gradually, her head comes up and she looks over to Josh. She wipes her nose with a tissue that has been resting in her hand for the last thirty or forty minutes. Her eyes are puffy and red, and her makeup smudged from her tears.

  “Yes, Emily, let’s have a look downstairs; we have been cooped up is here for a long time, so a change of scenery will be good for us all,” Catherine says.

  “In a minute,” Emily responds, a little surprisingly, from her burrow at Josh’s side.

  “Good girl. I’d better fix my makeup then. I think it is going to be very smudged.” Catherine tries to sound a bit upbeat.

  “I’ll come with you,” Stacey says from beside Josh. “Do you want to come with us, Emily?”

  Catherine and Stacey make a show of getting up from their seats and to Josh’s surprise, Emily does start to move. Emily rises up and off Josh. Standing up, she follows the other two towards the bathroom. Her hair is a mess around her head she walks slowly, her arms by her side and her head tilted down slightly. Josh wonders how she can see where she is going.

  Moving his back off the couch, Josh raises his arms and stretches before getting to his feet.

  He goes around the couch and over to Alice, who sits at a table behind. Seeing Josh come over, she puts her phone on the table.

  “Sorry if it’s a bit morbid,” he tells her.

  “Don’t be silly, Josh, that is completely understandable. I jus
t sat over here because you all wouldn’t want a stranger with you at a time like this.”

  “A stranger… Now who’s being silly? You aren’t a stranger.”

  “Well, I’m not exactly but you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do and thanks.”

  “Thanks for what?”

  “I dunno, you’ve been a good support to me, Alice.”

  “I’m glad I could be of service,” Alice jokes, with a lovely smile.

  “Are you hungry?” Josh asks, finding himself a bit flustered, not knowing what else to say.

  “I could eat, for sure.”

  Emily’s hair is back under control when they return from the bathroom and although she still looks delicate, her eyes are dry and there is even a hint of a smile when Josh holds out his hand to her.

  As they all approach the exit from the lounge, the soldier who has been standing inside the door moves across it.

  “I have been ordered to ask the three ladies to wait inside until further notice.”

  “Ordered by whom?” Josh asks.

  “By my superior, Private,” the Lance Corporal tells him.

  Josh suddenly has visions of how his father would have brushed this soldier aside by bending him to his will or ordering him to move. Josh doesn’t hold the rank to be able to give any orders, nor does Alice for that matter. After the events of the last two days, he feels totally inadequate for it. He debates how to handle the situation. One option would be to leave himself and speak to a superior, possibly Lieutenant Winters—or even better, Dixon is just downstairs. Josh is sure Dixon would jump at the chance to deal with their guard. Before he formulates any more options, Catherine deals with the situation for them.