“Under four hundred? Good. Not too many, but it will make a difference. Is the package ready?”
The general nodded.
“We’re not going to abandon them, we can’t,” Jenny protested. She hadn’t let herself believe the full extent of what they were actually implying.
“Jenny, you’re here because you’re intelligent, dependable, and pragmatic. Without this one ship, the rest of the fleet will have one less mouth to feed, but that’s not enough. We’re losing hearts and minds as we’re seen as aloof and out of touch. They’ve forgotten how to be scared and subservient. We need to remind them so we can retain authority,” she tried to explain to her. The welcoming smile had long since been replaced with a hard stare.
“We need you to use your normal channels to get the package on board. Our men will do the rest,” The general said, as he started scribbling notes that he kept to himself.
They would not abandon these people, they were going to murder them. When the evacuations began, they had taken tough decisions. Jenny had seen many infected executed, towns bombed and survivors left to die. She had always told herself this was necessary; the group was more important than the individual. Is destroying this one ship any different from levelling a village? Is it morally less acceptable than leaving people to certain death? She knew there were people on the ship who didn’t deserve to die, but how many were on other vessels that deserved the best chance of surviving? She didn’t need to answer these questions of ethics; it wasn’t her decision. And that’s what she told herself. It was just a package; she didn’t need to know what it was. They weren’t telling her because they needed her to enact the plan; they needed her to make sure she kept her mouth shut afterwards in case questions were asked.
“You understand how important this and your discretion are?” The PM asked. She tried to force herself to smile but it appeared fake, more vile than Jenny had previously noticed.
Jenny nodded.
“You can wait outside whilst arrangements are made,” she ordered. The three conspirators waited for Jenny to stand before they talked amongst themselves, finalising their deadly plans. As instructed, Jenny left the room in a daze. What had she agreed to do?
Chapter 19
The news of the bonus crate of supplies had been greatly received and spread quickly amongst the inhabitants of the Angel of Vengeance. Civilians and crewman alike lined the side of the unimpressive cargo ship as they carefully lifted the container into place. Women, children, young and old, all excited by the prospect of a little extra. Some hoped for clean clothes, maybe a chocolate bar or bottle of Whiskey to drink away their woes. Many a former smoker fantasised about that cigarette which could shortly be resting on their lips.
The sea was blissfully calm, but that didn’t stop Jenny from vomiting over the side of the smaller boat as the load ascended into the sky by the skilled crew on the Angel. She wasn’t sure if it was her motion sickness or the guilt of what she knew was going to happen. Jenny looked up at the smiling faces. A child waved at the boat and Jenny waved back. The crew wasn’t one she had worked with before. Unusually, they were armed with pistols hidden beneath their coats, but not so well hidden their shape couldn’t be seen up close, the impression bulging through their clothes. It wasn’t a regular occurrence that she would accompany drop offs, but it happened often enough that her presence would help remove suspicion. Just seeing her face and dropping off crates to other ships on the same trip would remove doubt in most minds that the disaster to befall the Angel of Vengeance wasn’t part of a government plot. She stood looking up at the eyes staring down at her, trying to force a reassuring smile and hold back the tears before a crew member emerged with a satellite phone and handed it to Jenny.
“Hello captain, we’ve got another two stops to make so hopefully your people will enjoy the extras. I’m afraid there isn’t much food, a few confectionary items, and non-critical luxuries. Some cigarettes, alcohol - but not too much, and civilian clothing. Hopefully, they will give your people some comfort,” Jenny offered then stood and listened. The praise and gratitude on the other end of the phone added to her nausea. “You’re welcome,” Jenny added then handed the phone back to the nearest crew member. “Can we get moving now?”
“Don’t look so worried, it’s gone well, you’ve done your job. We’ll head off in two minutes in two hours you’ll be back on the Reckoning sipping warm cocoa,” he assured her. He took the phone and disappeared back into steering house.
Jenny stared at the Vengeance as all eyes were on her little supply boat. Those eyes hadn’t noticed in the fading light the four-man team of SBS soldiers as they pulled up next to the larger vessel in their two Klepper canoes. They had approached silently and were barely visible on the dark sea as those hopeful souls dreamed of the goodies in the pallet, not the nightmare that was about to occur. Two civilians, bought and paid for aboard the ship, had thrown four lines down for the SBS team to climb. Their canoes secured to the side of the ship, they began ascending the ropes. It should have been hard and tiring work for most, but these special forces soldiers were at peak fitness. They heaved themselves onboard and were readying their silenced MP5 submachine guns before the crate had touched down. They rewarded the two civilians for their treachery with a knife blade in the base of their skulls, before being thrown overboard. The splashes from their bodies hitting the unforgiving sea could have attracted attention if it wasn’t for the excitement on the opposite side of the ship. There were to be no witnesses, no one to testify of this conspiracy to commit mass murder, perpetrated by the only authority these people had.
The four-man team expertly navigated the deck, staying out of sight of anyone who might raise the alarm at seeing four armed men dressed in black when they shouldn’t have been there. The wheelhouse had just two crew members along with the captain, all other hands were eagerly awaiting the new bounty on the deck. The four-man team entered silently. The three seamen were laughing and joking, excited at the prospect of a few luxuries that their colleagues would secure for them. The three silenced 9mm rounds entered the men’s heads with a crack; blood, bone and brain matter fizzed into the air. Before the bodies had hit the ground the four men in black began their true task, navigation and communication equipment was expertly sabotaged. The satellite phone was still in the Captain’s hand as the soldier’s boot smashed into it repeatedly until the mass of broken plastic was barely recognisable. The collection of panels were slowly, ripped from their spots, broken wires replaced the blinking lights. Within a minute the ship was effectively useless, with no way to talk to anyone else, steer or navigate. It would be dead in the water.
On the main deck, the large crate touched down to cheers from the gathered crowd. Several of the ship’s crew stepped forward and unfastened the large supporting straps freeing the cargo from the ship’s crane. Two men stepped forward with crowbars and began trying to free the front from the nails hastily driven into the large wooden box. Each successful shove of the crowbar opening the crate a little greeted with a cheer from the crowd as they continued to work themselves up in anticipation of what goodies they were about to receive.
The four-man team had exited the wheel house and quickly made their way back to their exit point. They all knew the drill and carried on their duty without so much as a word to each other. The lead soldier stopped and dropped to his knee, signalling the others to do likewise. Two soldiers lazily walked out in front of them, chatting aimlessly to each other. The poor souls not realising they were between a special forces team and their extraction. The lead SBS soldier raised his MP5SD submachine gun and fired four silenced rounds in quick succession, downing the two men. The small team paused, then quickly continued on their path.
The crate was nearly open as the gathered crowd edged closer, jostling for position. Whatever bounty was about to be unveiled, it would be in too short supply and every man, woman and child were determined to get something. The mood was jovial, excitement and smiles showed on every face
.
The four SBS troops started descending their rope lines towards the water and the waiting canoes, displaying strength and athleticism they boarded their two-man crafts. Paddling to a holding position fifty metres from the Vengeance, several other small, darkly coloured craft waited, encircling the ship. Each Klepper or Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat was silent, the men on board armed with silenced weapons and marksman rifles, ready for action.
The crowd cheered and screamed in delight. Had they remained silent, they may have heard the scratching. The groaning. The slow thud of rotten grey flesh pounding the inch thick wooden wall that separated the occupants of the crate and their fleshy treat that was so close. The front popped open, those civilians and crew at the front surged forward, those at the back with no chance of claiming a share cheered on friends and relatives closer to the action. The confusion was instant. In the crate only waste, empty tins and bottles, they had lined the bottom with bricks. Those at the front fell silent, trying to comprehend what cruel joke had been played on them.
Then the first creature leapt forward. Screams replaced cheers as several more grey monsters sprung from the darkness of the crate. Angry chipped teeth, starved of flesh for too long, wasted no time in tasting the blood of the poor souls assembled. People began running in every direction as more of the dead spilled from the crate, chasing down those closest to the action, too shocked and scared to defend themselves. Two of the soldiers brought their rifles into action, firing towards the attackers, rounds at best, ineffectively striking the creature’s torsos, at worst striking the innocent people closest to them. The two slowly moved back as they fired, determined to give themselves space as they desperately looked for answers, for help, for a plan. More sporadic gunfire could be heard above the panicking crowd.
“Fuck this, let’s swim for it!” The soldier screamed as his colleague, he could see it was already hopeless. They’d not faced these creatures since the evacuation, and then they had been fortunate enough to engage through a barbed-wire fence. They were everywhere, at least a dozen, probably more. In less than a minute they had caused chaos, bloodied civilians and crew ran in every direction being chased down by these angry, starving bastards. Both soldiers had their backs against the rail, the black ocean calmly splashing against the ship below them.
The first soldier’s head popped open, pieces of eye and cheek-bone flying forward as his body staggered a single step and slumped to the ground, his colleague instinctively crouched. He blindly fired towards the mass of feeders and people in front of him, no idea what was happening, just knowing he should do something.
One of the SBS soldiers on an inflatable raft looked through his scope for his second target. He had fired five times and missed with every bullet before the fifth shot. The sea was calm, but it was far from ideal on such a small boat, even for a skilled marksman. With the noise and confusion on the ship, those onboard did not understand the threat bobbing up and down in the water so close to them. The SBS soldiers were all looking for armed targets to take out of the fight and survivors jumping overboard. Several splashes at the ship’s aft alerted a nearby Klepper canoe, and it’s two troops. They paddled towards the site and three humans waved and pleaded for help. The response was swift and brutal as they were peppered with silenced 9mm bullets until they moved no more. The canoe casually paddled back out to the holding line and awaited their next piece of business.
Jenny was four hundred metres away as her boat continued pulling away. Each gunshot or scream of horror filled her with more guilt. She held her mouth before running to the side of the boat and vomiting into the sea as the crew members onboard watched the Vengeance as it descended into hell.
“You did well,” a voice said. Jenny didn’t see the man who was standing behind her in shadow, as if he had appeared from nowhere. She stared at the dark sea and didn’t turn to talk, she didn’t want to look at anyone.
“It’s an awful thing, there must have been another way,” she muttered as she fought back the tears, but a single one had escaped and rolled down her cheek and into the sea.
“I’m really sorry, but we all have our orders. You had yours, they had theirs, and I have mine,” The man said. He raised a silenced pistol and pointed it at the back of Jenny’s head. She froze, she couldn’t see or hear the weapon, but suddenly she knew what was about to happen. They couldn’t let her live, she knew too much, enough to break this so-called government, take down these remnants of humanity. She was a fool.
She never heard the shot, quick and to the back of her head, killing her instantly as brain and bone fragments splashed into the sea. The man put his pistol away and threw her body overboard before joining the others in watching the show.
Another crew member approached him. “Ready to make the call?” he asked. He was handed a radio and nodded.
“Mayday, mayday. This is a crew member on the Angel of Vengeance. We’re under attack! Repeat, we are under attack! Several civilians have weapons and are attacking us. They have been protecting infected. We have many dead and injured, the infected are everywhere. Please help!” He nodded and one of his men fired two bursts from a rifle close to the radio. He handed the radio back. “That should be enough. Let’s go, we don’t have to watch this.”
“Angel of Vengeance, this is the HMS Dasher, we are two miles off. Evacuate survivors, we’re instructed to initiate the fleet safety protocol. Our Wildcats will engage within two minutes. Anyone onboard will be deemed hostile,” came the response. The SOS call was answered nearly immediately by the nearby destroyer. The fleet safety protocol dictated any ship deemed infected was to be destroyed. They had shown a kindness by giving those on the Vengeance an opportunity to escape, one they wouldn’t be allowed to take even if they had heard the broadcast.
The screams onboard the Angel of Vengeance had died down, those onboard either dead, injured, or hiding below deck. The surrounding craft and canoes had made quick work of the handful of those desperate enough to jump overboard, many withdrew slowly, only a few canoes covertly remained.
The first anti-ship missile struck the front of the ship’s stern, the second the bow before another three missiles struck everything in between. The Sea Venom missiles were overkill against a civilian vessel, but the ship had to be destroyed as did those on board. The two Wildcat helicopters began peppering the deck of the ship with machine gun fire as flames rose from below. Those onboard were surely already dead, and the ship was sinking fast, but it was clear there would be no survivors.
The remaining Special Boat Service troops paddled away. An awful job well done.
Chapter 20
The prime minister’s cabin had been nicknamed number ten. It was larger than most, enjoying a separate sleeping and living quarters, with an office and briefing area for her to perform her duties. The furniture was almost as basic as any other cabin on the ship. They had requisitioned a few luxuries, some art from the real number ten on Downing Street, a few bottles of expensive single malt scotch, a proper bed, and an extensive collection of books. Nothing outrageous, and not one person begrudged her these small things.
She sat on a hard metal chair at her desk in the office, sipping a glass of the single malt, reading the latest status reports when there was a knock on the door. “Enter,” she called. She was used to interruptions at all hours, but she was expecting this one.
The general entered and sat down, pouring himself a large scotch and knocking it back. “It’s done. Reports confirm no survivors. Public comms are already putting out the official story.”
The PM smiled, not happy but satisfied. “We’ll play on it for a week, start cracking down on any insurrection, and blame the Vengeance for lack of supplies. Empower the civilians to self-police, that should see a few of the silly buggers finish each other off. Hopefully that’ll buy us some time before we can clear out the Isle of Wight. How is that going?”
“Slowly. Of the 40,000 or so who we believed remained, estimates put the feeders at around 10,000. So far it
looks at least double in both counts,” the general answered. He was glad to be discussing something less murderous and more militaristic.
“Can’t you speed it along? What do you need?” she pressed. The PM was impatient.
“Besides carpet bombing the entire island, or launching a Trident nuke from one of the subs? We have 2000 soldiers, what armour we could muster and jet cover dropping ordnance at every cluster that is reported in. These damned things didn’t take the world by being a pushover, they’re difficult,” the general replied and topped up his whisky.
“Of course they’re fucking difficult. If it wasn’t for them, being difficult I wouldn’t be the damn Prime Minister and you wouldn’t be here, telling me why you’re failing.”
“With all due respect, we can blow them up, but they keep on crawling. We can shoot them a dozen times, but unless you hit their brains, they keep on coming. They don’t starve, they don’t sleep, they just want to eat and they will keep going until you kill them or they kill you. And then there’s the others. The smart, the strong, the big. They are a whole different problem that we’re only just getting to grips with. I pray there isn’t another incarnation waiting to bloody try to eat us.”
“I’m aware of the challenges, but you told me it was doable. You and the rest of the so-called experts said it would be ours two weeks ago. How many more ships am I going to have to sink before we have solid land beneath our feet again?” she growled. She slammed down the report on the desk and stood up. “The teams on the mainland, any progress?”
The general looked glum. He didn’t have any good news to offer. “We’ve got six teams across the South, nothing as yet. We’ve identified another two areas of interest. One near a research centre, Wellworth. Satellite images suggest it should be secure and we’ll have a team onsite within 48 hours.”
Deadweight | Book 2 | The Last Bite Page 7