“Taxi for Richards!” Alders shouts as I climb into the cockpit.
“That’s me, Flight Lieutenant, that’s me,” I shout back, as I sit down and strap myself in.
No sooner have I shut the door and started to buckle up, than Alders starts his take-off. His ascent is rapid and smooth, I obviously don’t need to convey my urgency to him. Before I have even grabbed a headset, he is banking the Lynx around in the direction of Heathrow. He is busy talking into his headset, to what I assume is air traffic control, establishing his flight path. Visibility is too bad to only fly by sight across the city, especially with the number of military aircraft in the airspace over London.
Before we leave the area, I manage to get a brief look down at the destroyed city around the forward position we have just taken off from. Notting Hill Gate is a smouldering pile of rubble ahead of the battlefront. Cars continue to burn in the road and tracer fire streaks up the blackened road as the fight continues. Dark destroyed buildings reach up each side of the road and beyond, some still burn while others just belch out smoke. Battle scars mount as I look out and across the city where other battles have taken place or still rage on, the destruction looks endless.
A couple of taps on my shoulder bring my focus back and away from the horror as it shrinks through my window. Alders motions for me to put my headset on which is still in my hands and not on my head.
“Jesus Christ, you really are back from the dead, Captain. No pun intended. What happened? Everybody was convinced you were infected, they said you were scratched? Josh was gutted!”
“How bad was Josh?” I ask.
“He wasn’t brilliant, he was gutted of course. He seemed to be handling it as well as could be expected when I left him if that’s any consolation. What happened?” Alders asks again.
“I don’t know what to tell you, I thought I was infected too? I woke up a few times, feeling like I was turning into one of them; it was terrible. Then gradually, I started to feel better. I don’t know if it was the injections I’d had, if I wasn’t infected properly or if I’m immune somehow. I can’t explain it?”
“Or you’re just one lucky bastard?” Alders says, smiling.
I daren’t tell him that something about me has changed, that the Rabids think I’m one of them. He might get the jitters and take me back to where he found me and decide not to take me to Heathrow. I don’t know him well and I can’t risk it, not now.
“What the hell has happened at Heathrow? That place was a fortress?” I ask him, desperate for some solid information before I dive into the fight again. I seriously doubt he will know anything about my children and the others, however.
“I’m hearing that an ingoing transport got overwhelmed with Rabids, causing it to crash land. Unfortunately, the crash didn’t kill them, and it escalated from there. You know how hard these bastards are to kill. I haven’t been back since I was diverted to RAF Northolt. I have seen it from a distance, on my flightpath to Northolt; I could see the flames from miles away!” he tells me.
“Shit,” I say quietly. “Do you know if everyone has been evacuated?”
“I wish I had better news, but not many have, I’m sorry. Evacuating that many people with Rabids on the ground is proving problematic. I have heard through the grapevine that they are going to take decisive action at Heathrow to stop the infection spreading out of that area.”
“What action?” I ask.
Alders looks sheepish, debating whether to tell me any more of what he knows.
“Alders, my children are there!” I press him.
“Okay, this is just a rumour, but last time I was on the ground at Northolt; something big was being prepared. I heard off an old colleague that he thinks it could be a tactical nuclear strike.”
I’m speechless, but not totally surprised. A tactical nuclear strike is designed to be used on the battlefield, to surgically aid friendly troops. The warhead is smaller than a strategic warhead, used to destroy a large area such as a city. The warhead is still nuclear though, one has never actually been used tactically on a battlefield, never mind in a city and now they want to use one in London!
“Any idea on a time frame?” I ask, pulling myself together.
“I only know if they are going to do it, it will be soon. I won’t be hanging about, let’s put it like that.”
“I appreciate the lift mate, believe me,” I tell him, my mind racing.
“The least I could do. They will divert all air traffic before they do anything,” Alders tells me.
“Shit!” I say urgently. “Where is the USB charging port?” I ask, quickly moving to get the two phones out of my front pocket. I should have tried the phones as soon as I boarded.
“There’s one,” Alders points out.
I plug the one end of Sir Malcolm’s charger in the port and quickly plug the other end into my phone. I wait, staring at the screen, willing it to show a sign that the phone is charging. Nothing happens, just as I suspected; my phone is fucked. I pull the lead out and stick it into Sir Malcolm’s phone. After a couple of seconds, the screen lights up to tell me the phone is charging. Patiently, I wait for a minute to let the battery draw some juice, then I press the power key. While the phone is starting, I pray that Sir Malcolm hasn’t changed his passcode. The phone starts, and I tap in six digits of his birthday backwards and the menu comes up. If only that number had logged into his computer at Orion, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
He won’t have Josh’s number; the only number I think he will have, is Lieutenant Winters’. I quickly scroll, find his name where it should be and press call. Eventually, the call connects, and I get a ring tone in my ear. I press the phone harder to try and cut out the din of the helicopter. Please answer, Winters, I think to myself.
“Hello,” Winters shouts down the line. “Who is this?”
I’m just about to answer him when gunfire echoes in the background and Winters starts shouting. I can’t make out what he is saying.
“Winters?” I shout into the phone.
He doesn’t answer. More gunfire erupts into my ear, much closer this time, as if it is Winters doing the shooting. The shooting stops and Winters shouts again, but it’s garbled, then I hear him shout Josh, I’m sure of it. Again, gunfire sounds, lots of gunfire and then the phone disconnects.
“Shit!” I say to myself.
Alders is silent next to me. I try to connect again but the call won’t connect.
“How far out are we?” I ask Alders in desperation.
“Five minutes, what’s happening?”
“Winters is in a fight, lots of gunfire and I’m sure he shouted Josh’s name.”
“Make that four minutes,” Alders says as he adjusts the throttle to increase the engine's output.
The whine from the engines surges as does Alders’ look of determination, his eyes fixed ahead. The Lynx flies farther out of the city and the atmosphere outside starts to clear of heavy smoke and the daylight increases. It is by no means crystal clear, but the visibility does improve, however. That enables Alders to point out the tall thick plumes of smoke rising from Heathrow in the distance. Fires at the airport must be extensive, the reprieve for my lungs is going to be short-lived.
“How do you want to play this?” Alders asks.
“Just find somewhere to put me down near Terminal 5, that’s where they have got to be,” I tell him.
“Finding somewhere safe to drop you off is not going to be easy,” he informs me.
“Just get close to the building and low enough so that I can jump down, that’s all I ask.”
“Rabids will be everywhere, Captain, I’ll have to find a clearing.”
“No, Flight Lieutenant, get me as close as you can safely, let me worry about the Rabids.”
“They will be on you straight away; I can’t do that.” He tells me earnestly.
“I’ve just yomped through London surrounded by Rabids; let me worry about them. Get as close as you can. That is an order.”
&nb
sp; “Yes, Sir,” Alders says with a look of bewilderment across his face.
“Trust me, Flight Lieutenant and thanks for the lift,” I tell Alders more calmly.
“Don’t mention it,” Alders replies and offers his hand.
I clasp his hand, give him one last look and then whip off the headset. I glimpse Heathrow approaching through the cockpit window; the airport looks in dire straits. I don’t sit and ponder what I am going to do, it’s a waste of time. I have no idea what I am going to run into when I jump from the Lynx. All I know is I’ve got to find my children and the others, and fast.
Pressing the button at the centre of my seat harness, it releases, and I climb out of the co-pilot’s seat. I squeeze past Alders and give him a slap on the shoulder as I move into the helicopter’s hold and reattach the silenced M4 to my front. My right-hand curls around the rifles grip as my adrenaline starts to spike.
“One minute!” Alders shouts over his shoulder to me.
The hold door is in front of me and my left hand takes hold of its handle, ready to slide it open. Out of the door's window, the ground below rises up to show me Rabids dotted over the concrete below, their excitement growing at the prospect of fresh prey flying in. Alders turns the Lynx fast and all of a sudden, the window is filled with a view of the massive Terminal 5 building, the building where I left Emily, Catherine and Stacey yesterday. Alders has done well; he has got the helicopter as close as I could have asked for. The helicopter descends rapidly, and then:
“Go, go, go!” Alders shouts.
The hold door’s locking mechanism releases and the door slides like a rocket across, slamming into the end stop, surplus adrenaline overloading my power. I jump into the buffeting wind of the rotors and down onto the concrete. Alders has found a gap in the Rabids, but they are closing in quickly. I whip around and slide the door closed. As soon as it slams shut, Alders powers the engines and takes the Lynx straight up.
God only knows what he is thinking as he hovers stationary, above. I feel his eyes staring down looking at me as Rabids speed, closing in on my position.
Letting them come, I don’t move, the M4 pointed away from my body at the height of my stomach, ready to fire. Fear grips me as their terrifying faces, baying for blood, hurtle towards me. Their screeches overpower the din of the Lynx above as the Rabids shoot past me in their futile attempt to reach the helicopter, that is now well out of their reach.
Relief washes over me as my ultimate gamble pays off and the Rabids ignore my presence. I can almost hear Alders’ gasps of disbelief and shock as he realises my truth.
The gamble won, I don’t hang about to celebrate my small victory or to watch Alders leave. I’m off and running towards the smashed glass of the departure gate doors on the ground level of the Terminal 5 building. I will retrace where I know the others were, starting with the departure lounge. I know I won’t find them there; the lounge will have been overrun long ago. Next will be, up the escalator and to the First-Class lounge, where I last saw them. They could have barricaded themselves inside there. If they aren’t there, I will search the whole building until I do find them or get incinerated by the nuclear blast.
There is no time to take things slow and cautious; my patience won’t allow it either. My boots crunch through the shards of broken glass scattered across the ground that threaten to slide my feet from beneath me as I cross the threshold into the building. I adjust to the new atmosphere quickly as I hit the winding staircase that will take me up to the departure lounge. Taking the steps two at a time, I am quickly near the summit and see the door frames that will take me in, their glass panels shattered too.
A Rabid, attracted by my noise echoing up the stairwell, appears at the top of the stairs, beyond the broken doors. The creature looks at me quizzically, until my M4 shoots it between the eyes. I have seen enough of their grotesque faces to last me a lifetime and I can’t afford to mess about.
Stepping over the dead Rabid body and onto the departure lounge level, I turn a corner. The lounge is spread out in front of me and it has seen a tremendous fight. Bodies in military uniform and Rabid bodies are strewn across the wide area, their blood pooling on the highly polished floor. Walls are riddled with bullet holes and blackened from explosions. Dust hanging in the air enters my lungs again, along with the smell of cordite.
I move forward more cautiously now, to avoid the Rabid creatures that still shuffle around between the bodies and upturned tables and chairs but also, to avoid getting mistaken for a zombie and shot by any troops that may still remain. The images of dead faces enter my brain, even though I try to avoid looking at them. A young squaddie’s tortured face imprints on my mind. His dead eyes look out from under a row of airport seating that is fixed to the floor as if he was trying to hide from the terror beneath the uncomfortable seating.
Pressing deeper into the lounge, I go past the food serving station that my breakfast was served from yesterday. The hotplates still lie on top of the tables, cleaned ready for the next serving that will now never happen. Veering right towards the stationary escalator that will take me up to the First-Class lounge level, I see a body slumped over the table where I ate my breakfast with the others, including Dan. Blood slowly drips from the tabletop and onto the floor below, where it splatters into morbid patterns.
The Rabids look at me as I go, but don’t take much notice, my new camouflage still fooling them. Low behind my M4, I approach the frozen escalator where a creature mills around at the bottom entrance as if it is waiting for the escalator to spring back to life. I decide to take the rabid out and focus my aim.
My finger reaches for the rifle's trigger when a dulled sound of shooting vibrates into the departure lounge from above. Could that be Josh shooting, or Alice? Are they in trouble? Panic hits me. Screeches rise from behind me; I am not the only one who has heard the noise. I have missed my easy shot at the Rabid by the escalator. The beast is winding up to climb up the escalator, towards the new sound as it wakens from its stupor. Filling it full of bullet holes as it arrives in between the snaking black, rising rubber handrails of the escalator, it falls forward into the first few metal steps.
The body still twitches but I make my break for the escalator. Rabid noises are rising right behind me as the race to reach the new noise from above starts. I reach the entrance to the escalator first, just, but Rabids are on my back. My feet are unsteady as I trample over the twitching body to get to the steps beyond and I nearly trip over. My left hand catches me and taking hold of the black rubbered handrail, it pulls me along. My legs power as my boots hit solid ground. Releasing the handrail, my left hand goes to my body armour and pulls off a grenade. I pull the pin with my right index finger and drop the grenade. My legs now go into overdrive, straining as I sprint up the awkward escalator, Rabids breathing down my neck.
I open a slight gap as I reach the top of the escalator and I turn, shooting the M4 in automatic. The creatures directly behind me fall back into the others as my bullets rip their heads apart and then the grenade explodes. Rabid bodies erupt into the air as the sides of the escalator concentrate the power of the explosion inwards and upwards. Mangled bodies and limbs spin high into the air as their black blood sprays. Bodies reach their highest trajectory before they drop straight back down back onto the escalator. Others are blown outwards, over the side of the escalator in an arc, their final destination splattering into the floor of the departure lounge below.
The explosion subsides and the smoke clears. My slim hope that the Rabids are dealt with is short-lived. Others are already clambering over the bloody carnage, hell-bent on climbing the stained escalator. I shoot down at the creatures at the front, slowing the ascent, but the fresh bodies are but a small obstacle to the fevered attack.
There is no choice but to grab the last grenade from my body armour and to pull the pin. The grenades lever releases with a metallic click as I throw it down underarm. Aiming for the entry point of the escalator at the bottom where the biggest concentratio
n of Rabids is clamouring to get on, I immediately start firing again. The M4’s bullets take down, one by one, the Rabids at the front as they present themselves until the second blast goes off. The explosion throws more bodies into the air and this time the blast explodes the glass sides at the entry onto the escalator. Shattered glass is ejected at impossible speed sideways on each side of the entry and it is joined by pieces of flesh, blood and bone spraying out.
Continuing to fire my rifle again, I despatch the last few remaining Rabids at the front that weren’t blown up by the grenade. As the last one falls, I turn and make a run for it. I haven’t enough ammo to deal with the throng of creatures that survived behind the explosion and are now climbing over the latest gore to get up the escalator.
Sprinting in the direction of the First-Class lounge. I eject the mag from the bottom of the M4, pull a new one out of my body armour and snap it home into the rifle while I run. Screeches sound off behind me as the Rabids climb, but the First-Class lounge is now in view.
Pushing the solid dark-wood entry door of the lounge I half expect it to be locked or barricaded. I’m wrong; the heavy door swings in deceptively easily. The lounge is deserted, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I haven’t found them, but at least they won’t be in the vicinity of the oncoming hoard of Rabids that are on their way. Hopefully, they are somewhere safe, or safer anyway.
I don’t hang about; I exit the lounge and the door swings slowly shut behind me. Rabids are reaching the top of the escalator. I know it, I can hear it. There is only one direction for me to go, right, to keep following the corridor. I set off running again as screeches reverberate along the walls of the corridor to me. The last thing I want is for them to see where I am going and follow me. Luckily, the corridor curves left, so it hides me from the creatures behind as I go, but it sounds like they are gaining on me.
I pass doors on either side of me; my children could be behind any of them, but I don’t stop. The odds on them moving such a short distance are small. Quickly, two stainless-steel lift doors come up on my left. I ignore them and stop to push the door to the stairwell open, which is positioned just past the lifts.
Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 67