Creatures are running at them from the expanse on the left. Dixon, for the most part, ignores them, however. Even at the speed they run, they aren’t quick enough to catch the pick-up in time and are left behind. Kim takes pot shots at some of them who change direction and try to follow the pick-up; most give up though.
Dixon has to concentrate on dispatching the Rabids that were already within range of the pick-up and they are mostly in front and just off to the left. He tries to take them out before they get into the path Downey is taking so that he doesn’t have to swerve. His rifle is firing almost constantly as he takes one out and readjusts for the next target. The pick-up does have to steer around some dropped bodies, but Dixon sees it coming and compensates.
Dixon’s second magazine empties and he pulls it swiftly out of the bottom of the rifle. Another fresh mag is in his hand quickly and he clicks it into place, pulling back the action. He aims at the next target and pulls the trigger but only hears a ‘dead man’s click’ as his rifle jams.
“Fucking piece of shit!” Dixon shouts as he releases the magazine, drops it, pulls the rifles action back to clear and obstruction and inserts another mag. By the time he aims again, his target is almost upon them. The rabid jumps at the pick-up just as Dixon pulls the trigger. This time, the rifle does burst into life and Dixon lets off a long volley at the beast.
The Rabid is hit multiple times but there is no headshot. The bullets do take some of the momentum out of the Rabid’s jump and it falls short and level with the front left of the pick-up. The Rabid’s head impacts with the headlight of the pick-up and it is thrown into a flat spin. The crushing blow spins the body down the side of the cab before the momentum flies it over the tail of the pick-up and over Kim’s head. Hitting the ground behind the pick-up, the body slides to a stop.
“What the fuck!” Dixon hears Kim shout from behind him.
Dixon has his own problems, however. He is playing catch-up following his rifle jamming. Upping his rate of fire, he has to rely almost entirely on instinct as he guns down the Rabids that threaten them.
Passing the zenith of the heat from the inferno, Dixon barely notices his face start to cool as the pick-up battles on. His eyes start to widen as the light from the fire starts to dim as they approach the runway that will take them all the way to Terminal 5. At least the blazing light is behind them now and doesn’t blind his field of vision. His eyes quickly adjust to their new surroundings and they pick out targets almost as easily. They are lit up as they run towards the pick-up, their horrific tortured features aggravated by the flickering fires’ light.
Finally, the pick-up crosses the threshold and drives onto the wide runway. Downey arcs around in a large diameter as he joins the runway to place the pick-up in the middle of it. From there, he gradually picks up speed, the bumpy concrete of the taxiway having been replaced by the smooth tarmac of the runway.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Dixon shouts to Kim as they speed along the ominously quiet runway. Maybe the Rabids haven’t wandered onto the runway yet? Perhaps they are attracted by the light and noise of the fire and stayed in that vicinity? Maybe and perhaps don’t work for Dixon, though, and his eyes re-focus.
The further the pick-up travels up the runway, the dimmer the surroundings get as the fires behind have less and less effect. Downey slows down, taking more care as his view diminishes; the last thing he wants to do is turn on the pick-up’s headlights.
Lights ahead start to come into sharper view from the silhouettes of the massive Terminal 5 buildings looming in the near distance. Nothing looks out of the ordinary from here, but no one is taking anything for granted and their nerves start to tingle as they get closer to the buildings.
Downey keeps on while the going is good and decides to stay on the runway for as long as possible. He ignores the exits to the taxiways that lead to the smaller building of the Terminal 5 complex. Their objective is the farthest and by far, biggest building. The main advantage with his tactics is that the darkness closes in around them, camouflaging the pick-up and keeping it out of sight.
Although Dixon understands what Downey is doing, he taps the top of the cab when he sees that it is time to turn. The pick-up veers right. There is a small bump as it leaves the runway and gets onto the taxiway leading to the main terminal building just ahead.
“I don’t like it. It’s too quiet,” Kim says from behind Dixon.
“I know, mate, something isn’t right.”
Downey must be feeling it too, as he has slowed considerably and is almost coasting. Is it their new surroundings bringing on their feelings of uneasiness? They certainly aren’t helping; the dimly lit airplanes that sprout up from the ground, parked adjacent to the buildings they are approaching, are creepy. The manmade light above casts shadows all around, the shadow of a wing here and a fuselage there making random patterns on the ground. The shadows occasionally weaken as a flash of light from an explosion bathes them for an instant, even from this distance. Each flash is followed by the sound of a boom or a crack that pierces the deathly silence.
Both Dixon and Kim are on tenterhooks as the pick-up moves into the Terminal 5 complex, closer to the grounded planes. Blind spots are everywhere; anything could be lurking in the shadows or behind a landing gear. Their rifle’s muzzles shift continually from one blind spot to another but it’s just a gesture, as there are simply too many to cover.
A loud screech sounds, sending electric chills down their spines. Their muzzles dart about quicker, looking for a target, but neither man is sure which direction the screech came from. Another spine-chilling screech lets out.
“Where is it coming from?” Kim asks desperately.
“Fuck knows,” Dixon answers, unsure if the sounds even came from the same source.
“It’s freaking me out,” Kim says.
“Stay calm, mate, we got this,” Dixon lamely tries to reassure.
The pick-up has made it to the start of the main terminal building and has slowed to almost a crawl. They need to be looking for an entry point into the building but neither Dixon nor Kim wants to give up their covering positions to look for one.
“What you reckon, Boss?” Kim asks.
“We need to get into that building A-sap.”
“Have you seen a way in?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look, but we are swinging in the wind out here,” Dixon says from behind his rifle.
“You’re not wrong there.”
Dixon taps the top of the cab and leans back toward Downey’s window. “Downey?”
“Yes, Boss,” he replies as the pick-up comes to a stop.
“Any entry points?”
“There are doors, but they all look secured.”
“Keep going and looking,” Dixon orders.
Downey gently starts moving forward; he scans the building, a plane length away on their left, for any entry point.
“There,” Collins says.
Downey sees it too, a single black door that looks like it has a crack of light down its length on one side.
“You’re up mate, go and check it, I’ll cover you,” Downey orders as he stops the pick-up again and opens his door to get out and cover Collins.
Apprehension and fear course through Collins’ body. He doesn’t question the order though and he doesn’t hesitate. As soon as the vehicle comes to a stop, he opens his door and gets out. Ducked down behind his rifle that is raised and pointed forward, he moves swiftly around the front of the pick-up and on towards the door that is shadowed by the looming airplane above. He is quickly at the tail of the plane and starts to work his way down it, using it for cover while checking any blind spots.
“CONTACT RIGHT!” Kim shouts as his rifle erupts.
Adrenaline fizzes through Dixon as he swivels around from his perch on top of the cab. His rifle swings around with him to look for a target and he isn’t disappointed. “Where the fuck have they all come from!” Dixon hears himself shout as his rifle opens up into the mass of Rabids that are streamin
g like water in and around the landing gear, in their direction, coming from an airplane on the opposite side from the main building.
They are in serious trouble—that is instantly obvious to Dixon as he fires. Their bullets are having little or no effect on the Rabid’s charge and they are going to be across the expanse separating them in moments. Downey getting back into the cab and speeding off will be useless and it would leave Collins behind. Where would they speed off to? The Rabids would overwhelm them before they got very far anyway. There is only one possible salvation. To fall back to the building, hope Collins has that door open and hope they can reach it in time.
“Fall back to the building, covering grenades!” Dixon shouts to his two comrades as he pulls the pins on two grenades and throws them.
Neither Dixon nor Kim wait to see what effect the exploding grenades are going to have. They are both jumping down from the tail of the pick-up before they explode. Downey rolls two grenades under the pick-up as the two men hit the ground and then all three make a break for the building.
As soon as they are up and running, Dixon's grenades detonate and a moment later, Downey’s follow. The pick-up leaps into the air from the force of the blast, its petrol tank erupting with it. All three men don’t break their stride or attempt to look around when the blasts happens; they have only one objective, to get to the open door Collins is holding, down on one knee with his rifle pointed, ready to fire.
Collins sees the first two grenades explode and the blast takes out a few Rabids. More replace the fallen in their ranks, though, as they stream forward, the creatures coming at a tremendous rate. The blast from the pick-up is impressive but does nothing the hinder the onslaught. The Rabids seem to anticipate the trap and take a wide berth around the blast. Collins feels helpless as he sees the swarm of Rabids gaining on his mates. They are going to be on top of them before they make it inside.
Downey is lagging behind slightly, the screeches of the horde at his back only confirm his feeling. He knows how close the Rabids are; they are almost upon him and the door is still too far off. He rips the last two grenades from his body armour, pulls the pins and drops them down by his feet. He understands that he will probably still be in the blast radius when they go, but if he is, at least it may give the other two a better chance. The grenades away, he tries to increase his speed.
Two blasts follow one another as the two grenades explode. A searing hot piece of shrapnel hits Downey’s left shoulder at the same time as the shock wave.
Downey stumbles, but ignoring the pain, he tries to gather his feet, in desperation to survive and keep going. The stumble is all the Rabid that hits his back needed. The beast’s arms gather him in as Downey goes down and its teeth have bitten through the back of his neck before he hits the ground.
“Nooo,” Collins shouts as Downey goes down. The horror and his sacrifice impact deep within Collins and his rage builds. Without thinking, he opens fire, his rifle spitting out bullets into the melee heading his way indiscriminately. The only exceptions to his killing spree are Dixon and Kim, to whom Downey’s sacrificial grenades may have given a chance.
Collins’ rifle clicks empty just when he needs it most, when he has the best chance to cover his comrades. Cursing himself, he swaps out the magazine as quickly as he can and aims the rifle again ready to shoot. He sees Kim hit and lose his footing before he is enveloped by the oncoming Rabids, and Collins blames himself for his mistake. He doesn’t dwell on it, not yet, and he fires his rifle.
Dixon is almost at the door when he registers Kim go down. He is sure he hears Kim’s deathly scream or is it just more of the Rabid’s sickening noise? Dixon anticipates his ghastly fate that is surely inevitable. Bullets fizz past his head, giving vital seconds and suddenly, he is amazed that he is at the door. He runs straight through it as Collins empties his magazine into the oncoming horde, giving himself critical time to pull the door closed.
Rabids smash into the closing door and actually force it shut with a bang, sealing off the entrance. Dixon has taken up a position with his rifle aimed at the door, as if he expects the Rabids to burst through. The heavy fire door holds easily and almost immediately, Dixon and Collins are surrounded by silence.
The two men look at each other in astonishment, wondering how the fuck they both survived; it’s surreal. Dixon especially is finding it hard to accept that he is still alive. He thought he was as doomed as Downey and Kim. He falls to the floor of the small alcove from his firing position and sits with his back against the wall, his burning legs spread out in front of him, panting, trying to get his breath back.
“Thanks, mate, I thought I was done for. I owe you a beer,” Dixon says, still panting.
“Fucking hell, Boss. I couldn’t help Downey, but I should have helped Kim. I lost it and shot my mag out at the fuckin’ wrong time.”
“Don’t blame yourself, none of us had any right to get out of that, mate. If it wasn’t for your covering fire, I’d be Rabid food right now.”
“I should have covered Kim, too,” Collins says, his head down.
“It’s a bad loss, they were two good men. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine, I led us on this wild goose chase. It’s gonna take some time to get our heads around it. You did your best, that’s all we can do, so head up, soldier.”
Collins makes a feeble effort to raise his head, but the guilt hangs heavy.
“Come on,” Dixon says as he drags himself up to his feet. “It’s late and I’m knackered. Let’s go and find Josh and a brew.”
Chapter 15
Somehow, it is comforting to be enclosed under the span of the bridge, lying on my back and chilling. I felt exposed and vulnerable in the open space of the outside when I exited the Orion building. I couldn’t wait to get out of that building when I was in it, and I can’t work it out. Maybe it’s because I was entombed in the dark for so long? I had better get used to it and quickly if I’m going to make it to Heathrow. I can’t hide under here for long.
The rush of adrenaline has subsided from my body and my body aches at its passing. My limbs have tightened up, especially my legs. They had no right to get me out of that crisis, but they did. I was sure they would be in far worse shape than they are now after their desperate excursion. They ache and hurt but to my surprise, it is manageable, I think?
I pull out the two grenades I salvaged from my front jeans’ pockets, which makes me even more comfortable. Putting them on the ground next to the two magazines I have already extracted from my back pockets, I roll onto my side, looking over at the canal.
Ripples hit the concrete bank below me. The water would be still if it weren’t for the Rabid bodies churning it. None of them are close and I try to ignore their movement, looking over them to the buildings and sky beyond. The sky is a reddish-orange colour in the areas that aren’t filled with black smoke. If it weren’t for the smoke haze, it could actually be a nice September morning. The British weather never fails to surprise; it was wind, rain, thunder and lightning yesterday evening. That strong wind has done nothing to clear the air of the smoke this morning, though. It hangs all around, staining everything, including my lungs.
I retrieve an energy bar from a pocket in my body armour and it is only when I take my first bite that I realise I haven’t got any water. How the fuck can I forget water? I’m not too hard on myself, though. I have been through the shit and if that’s all I’ve forgotten, then I’ve done well. I will have to locate some, sooner rather than later, however.
The other thing I’ve come away from the building without is a radio, but that couldn’t be avoided. My plan to pick one up from the storeroom didn’t quite work out.
A fast jet streaks across the sky above the buildings I’m looking over and it pulls me out of my daydream. A loud Rabid screech echoes out as the whining noise of its engine fades, bringing me right back to reality. Operations in the city are obviously still ongoing and I wonder if Operation Denial is proceeding as Colonel Reed planned. I hope so, as I
am relying on running into one of his units and arranging transport back to Heathrow. My hope doesn’t belay my doubts, however. I’ve seen no evidence of troop activity in this area. When I looked out of my office windows there was nothing, and I didn’t even see a helicopter.
Rolling back onto my back, I sit up, in a fashion. My back is bent forward, my head is ducked down beneath the low bridge above. Taking the last mouthful of the energy bar, which is going down like sawdust, I start to check my gear. How could I forget water, I ask myself again? It would ease this dry concoction in my mouth down. There are plenty of ammo magazines loaded into my body armour, seven and with the two on the floor next to me, that gives me nine. I look for a space to get the two mags on the floor into, and one squeezes in but the other will have to go back into my jeans pocket when I get up. I attach the measly two grenades onto my body armour and I’m ready to go. I’m still taken aback by how fit I’m feeling but I don’t question it, I just go with it. Grabbing the last mag off the floor, I shuffle on my bum over the edge of the bridge where I climbed under. Checking the surrounding area, my right-hand grips the M4 in case it is needed. The coast is clear, and I ease myself from under the bridge, backing against it while I slip the spare mag into my back pocket and scan again.
Smoke is seeping out from the edges of the fire door I exited, back down the path from me. It rises up and away from the building. I wonder if there is a fire in the storeroom, and that will prove to be the end of the Orion headquarters?
I turn my back on it, my concentration moving to work out the best direction to go. Heathrow is south-west from my position, and I want to get onto a main road. The last thing I want is to get caught on a narrow street with limited exits. A main road will also give me the best chance of coming across a military unit. With any luck, they will arrange transport, and if not, they will have comms—or at the very least, I can get some intel off them.
My brain calculates, running through a myriad of different directions I could take. I decide Bayswater Road is where I need to get to, that runs along the top of Hyde Park. Surely, Operation Denial has progressed as far as that by now, so I’m bound to find a military presence in that area? So, if I cross the bridge, I only need to move down one side street before I get onto Sussex Gardens, a main road that runs straight down to my objective, Bayswater Road.
Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 61