She was fixed on him as he waddled down the street without a care in the world. Natasha was able to close the distance quickly until she was in striking distance, she slowed so as not to startle her prey. A big friendly smile began to spread across her face, she was ready.
“Excuse me, sorry, excuse me.” At first he didn't turn around, he wasn't used to women talking to him on the street so had no reason to believe he was being addressed. Natasha reached out and touched his shoulder causing him to flinch. “Sorry, were you just in the board game shop?”
He was in shock, Natasha loved that expression, it was powerful and something she could never previously achieve.
“Yes.” He squeaked.
“I know this might seem odd but I saw you and thought you looked nice. I wonder if you could help me?” She had spent so much of her life lacking confidence it had become easy to replicate. “I'm Natasha.”
“Kevin, I'm Kevin.”
“Hi Kevin, I was wondering if you'd like to come to my flat and help me.” She touched his arm. “I have a few games for my nephew and I know he'll want to play them with his favourite auntie, do you think you can teach me?” Kevin was a deer in the headlights. “And maybe I could teach you something?”
Natasha hooked their arms together, and she led him away for dinner.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
KENNETH ADDO WAS in his late twenties, a muscular build and at over six feet six inches, he was an imposing black man with perhaps the friendliest smile in the whole British Army. His parents were Ghanaian immigrants who welcomed Kenneth to the world three days after they arrived in Swansea where a number of their extended family had settled in the seventies. He was a proud Ghanaian, and a prouder Welshman, his physique making him a forceful presence on the rugby field. He was looking at a professional career until on a night out he was set upon by a group of white men who wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of a young black man. He was strong and tall back then as an eighteen-year-old, but he wasn't a fighter then and they didn't fight fair.
Along with the fractured skull, collapsed lung, a broken nose, ribs, fingers and wrist, they had done a job on his left knee. In the next two years he'd made an excellent recovery, but his knee would never pass a medical examination by a professional rugby club even if he could get in the door. Rugby would not be his future. He missed being part of a team and couldn't find work that he engaged with, his formal education cut short along with his sporting career. Stacking shelves at the local Sainsbury's was a job, but he wanted to make a difference.
The British Army welcomed Kenneth. He was an excellent soldier, hardworking, intelligent and brave. No one had a bad word to say about Kenneth, and his closest comrades would follow him anywhere. A tour of Afghanistan saw him in action, charging an enemy machine gun nest saving his pinned down squad. He received the military cross and a bullet in the shoulder. After recovering, Kenneth spent a further month in Kabul before returning to the UK for his next duty. It seemed like a step down, but the assignment was temporary for him and his colleagues. With a heightened terrorism threat because of the West's involvement overseas, soldiers were providing armed guard services to many key intelligence and strategic installations. They deemed the Wellworth Research centre key and worthy of having a contingent of up to twenty soldiers permanently based on the site.
In the heart of the countryside in Lewes, there was a single narrow road in, it was secluded and that suited those who ran the centre. A bus service shuttled civilians to the site and back into the local town just over two miles away. A few locals would cycle in, only the more senior staff members were afforded a parking permit to get through security to the limited parking facilities. Many of the scientists would stay on site for days at a time if their workload required and Wellworth facilitated this with sleeping quarters.
Kenneth didn't know too much about what he was guarding, he saw men and women in white coats wandering around the small campus. It was already well protected with a large enforced fence around the perimeter, a protected gate, and more CCTV than seemed necessary. They upgraded the gated entrance, from unarmed private security to a team of four soldiers equipped with their L85A3 assault rifles. They supplemented the outer perimeter fence with a secondary one, smaller but sturdy. An observation post mounted on the four-storey central building that overlooked the single and double floored buildings around it. The OP housed two more soldiers, a sniper and his observer. Two teams of two patrolled the fence line at all times. Private security was still used, but now purely internally. They monitored the screens in the CCTV room, performed standard checks through the buildings, and liaised with the commanding officer.
There was resentment between the two sets. The professional soldiers hated the under qualified overpaid civilians. Those same civilians hated being replaced by gun toting rambos who swanned in and took control. Kenneth stayed out of the petty rivalry, he had a job to do, and he would do it. Whether he was standing at the gate waving through scientists, janitors or politicians, patrolling the perimeter in gale force winds and rain or getting a numb arse spotting for the marksman. He did his job.
He was coming off his shift, patrolling the grounds and was in the barracks stripping off. The rain had been relentless and even with waterproofs, he was wet through. He'd taken some guilty pleasure during the handover with the dry and happy men about to take over. They had laughed at him and his partner, a little too slow on the uptake to realise they were about to enjoy their own drenching. The corner of the barracks had a TV and two sofas, somewhere for downtime. Normally, one or two of the soldiers would watch some sport or a film. Today, the news was getting their attention. Kenneth walked past, naked with his towel slung over his shoulder. The images gripped the assembled men, police in riot gear deploying water cannons and falling back. The aggressors were not the usual hippies, thugs or impressionable youths. They were a full on cross section of society. Men and women, young and old, skinheads and teen Asian girls.
“What are they protesting about now?” Kenneth was nonchalant and had no shame about standing naked amongst the others. They didn't notice or care.
“I don't think they said, just people being dicks.” Was the response from a squaddie.
Kenneth carried on to the shower, he was cold and tired, shower, wank, food and bed was his plan.
He had only been in the shower a few moments when an alarm sounded. “For fuck's sake.” Kenneth muttered, he rinsed the soap off himself and grabbed his towel before making his way to the barracks.
The men from around the TV were busy getting into uniform with an officer screaming orders. “Briefing room in five!” He left the barracks in a hurry.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Was Kenneth's logical question.
“It's all kicking off, that riot on the TV, it's happening everywhere.” Was the efficient response from a soldier hurriedly tying his boots.
Kenneth began to join the others in the quickly getting dressed, his only pressed uniform was balled up on the floor in its own puddle of rainwater no longer looking as presentable. He grabbed another, it was clean and dry, but he feared he'd be crucified for the state it was in. No time to worry. He quickly dressed and was the last out of the door.
They made their way to the main building and to the second floor briefing room. The private security were flapping but oblivious to what all the fuss was about, they were to be excluded. Several senior looking men and women in white coats shuffled into the briefing room ahead of the military personnel. Only the soldiers on duty were excused, but several unfamiliar uniformed men were present of varying ranks.
“All, none of what you hear today is to be discussed with those not in this room. Not your girlfriend, the receptionist, your uncle Bob or the rent a wanker security twat you steal money from at poker. This is top secret.” The Major wasn't a regular on site, but Kenneth had seen him before. “You may know of the evolving situation outside. What you have seen on the news and may have heard from friends and fa
mily sadly the tip of the iceberg. The government and our superiors have been putting measures into place to safeguard Great Britain and as many of its citizens as we can.”
This seemed pretty unbelievable. Too unbelievable. When in Afghanistan Kenneth had got used to emergency drills, exercises and tests at the expense of rest and nerves. This had a very familiar smell to it. He'd foregone his wank and dinner for this shit?
“We have begun creating survivor centres throughout the country. Many of your fellow soldiers are there now, digging trenches and erecting fences. Whilst you enjoy your creature comforts, they're actually soldiering.”
Fair play to him, Kenneth thought, this Major was enjoying his act and was convincing.
“There is something infecting people, and we know nothing about it. This research facility will be at the forefront in investigating and they will need protection. In the coming days, that fence will attract those looking for safety. Looking to officials, soldiers for help and protection. Let me make this clear. That is not your fucking job! Your job is to protect this facility and the people within it.”
Okay, this isn't the normal shit. Kenneth sat up and paid attention.
“You will be reinforced with forty men in the next two days. Your rules of engagement are to do what you need to protect this facility and its people. The private security will be relieved once we are reinforced.”
A soldier raised his hand. “Sir?” He nervously spluttered the words out.
“This is not a Q and A at your damn book club.” He wasn't angry, it was becoming obvious this was just the Major’s manner. “Go on.”
The soldier was Bobby, young and very green, maybe this is why the Major allowed his interruption. “My mother and sister sir, they're out there.” Bobby got the words out despite his lack of confidence.
“I appreciate you all have loved ones out there. And we will pick them up, if we haven't done so already.” The Major gave the most forced, insincere smile, matched by Bobby trying to pretend he was satisfied with the response.
“I will give you orders in due course. Those just off shift, you'll have four hours' downtime. All of you need to check out equipment from the armoury. You are to be armed at all times. Dismissed.”
The squaddies followed their order and began departing, leaving the Major talking to the white coats.
“You!” The Major signalled to Kenneth. “Iron that fucking uniform!” Kenneth nodded, cursing under his breath, he nearly got away with it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
IT HAD BEEN a busy shift and Amy was well and truly fed up. The world was going crazy, and she found herself filling out paperwork three hours after her shift had ended. Her sergeant had already told her to expect to be called back in so to hurry, finish her forms and to get home to get some sleep. Expect to be called back in? Amy wasn't even sure she'd make it home and was eyeing up a corner of the canteen to get some shuteye.
In the last two days, things had been getting worse. Several frenzied attacks had at first been put down to a new street drug that hadn't yet earned a fantastical name. However, when the perpetrators were everyday average people, mums with their children, middle-aged bank managers, teenagers and would be brides, something was obviously off. It wasn't just Croydon experiencing this phenomenon - Police forces all over the country were reporting the same occurrences. They had been pushed to the absolute limit, all leave had been cancelled. The fact that this was happening everywhere meant no neighbouring police force could support another.
When Amy eventually made it to her makeshift accommodation, the twenty-four hours news station blaring away in the corner of the canteen was reporting the same stories of frenzied attacks all over the world. Riots on the streets of Croydon was one thing, but aerial footage of small villages suffering the same levels of violence was jarring. A small group of exhausted police officers nursed cups of tea and biscuits, glad to have some relief from being on the frontline. Amy didn’t want to socialise, the other officers around her speculated the cause and what the future held, but Amy had no time for such frivolities. Sleep was all she cared about now. Whatever craziness was occurring would be there after whatever sleep she'd get.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THE INK WAS barely dry on the contract, Cahill and the other board members had disappeared off into the sunset, prepared only to emerge to pick up their profit share cheques every year. Gareth didn't want to stick around, his job was done, NewU Pharma had paid him handsomely as had EverGreen He didn't need to work another day ever again. He was now a rockstar in his field. Everything was perfect.
When he picked up the paper, everything was perfect. Flicked on the radio, perfect. Drove to the gym in his classic Aston Martin, the very definition of perfect. It was when Gareth failed to read the story about a spate of vicious attacks. It was when he ignored the news bulletin about the civil unrest up and down the country. It was perfect as he drove past the woman tearing out a teenage boy's throat with her teeth on a deserted street.
The gyms carpark was empty. With a fat pill that works, the gym had become a more solitary experience. It was a modern building, a large glass fronted first floor for the members to gaze out from as they went for a spin on a bike or run on a treadmill. The changing room was empty too, only a solitary attendant was in the building, they had tried to talk to Gareth but he had his headphones and signalled he couldn't hear, instead just walking off and ignoring the staff member.
10K on the cross trainer and Gareth was a little out of breath and a little sweaty, the TVs were all displaying the news, across several channels. Finally, Gareth stopped to take notice. He unplugged his headphones from his smartphone and plugged them into the nearest piece of gym equipment and changed the audio channel to match that of the nearest screen.
“The public are being advised to stay inside with the Prime Minister due to make a statement shortly.” The news anchor looked dishevelled and genuinely scared.
“What the fuck was going on?” Gareth pondered as he mopped the sweat from his face. The other screens had similarly confused and anxious reporters, cutting between footage of scenes more like a war zone than an average British high street. Gareth unplugged his headphones and drifted towards the glass front of the gym.
A solitary figure stumbled down the street, probably drunk. Quiet. So very quiet.
“Excuse me.” Gareth turned with a jolt, it was the same staff member he'd seen earlier.
“Yes. What?” He was a little embarrassed for being startled.
“As I said earlier, we need to close early today, you have to leave. Now.”
Gareth didn't say a word, he was confused and slipped into autopilot. Walking through the empty corridor to the men's changing room, he passed the female changing room. He could hear a sobbing.
“Not my problem.” He spoke softly to himself as he continued. In the changing room he didn't stop to shower, he changed out of his sweaty gym gear into his street clothes, got his keys and checked his phone. No messages, no one to care about him or check he was okay, no one for him to check in on. Home, a gin and watch from his apartment the drama on the streets below until it had all blown over.
He passed the women's changing room, the sobbing continued. Gareth didn't know why he opened the door, maybe it was his natural predator instinct, a woman who was upset was an easy target. He could sweep in as the good guy, make her feel better, fuck her then dump her back where he found her. He didn't care about her wellbeing. She was sat hunched over, sobbing wildly on a bench, facing away from Gareth at the far end of the room.
“Are you okay?” He could still fake sincere when he needed to.
She stopped crying and sat up, pausing for just a moment. “I'm so hungry. I can't stop. I can't bloody stop!” The girl turned to face Gareth. Early twenties, Brunette, slim, maybe five feet four inches tall. She was so very pale, her skin so lacking in colour it looked almost grey, her lips were bright red, as she spoke so were her teeth. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”
She rose to her feet and faced him, in her hands she had a human foot, much of the flesh had been torn away, the bone exposed.
“What the fuck?!” Gareth edged back, and she started moving towards him.
“I need to eat, I can't stop, you have to understand. I need it.” She dropped the foot and approached him gaining pace. “Help me, please!” Her voice was fearful but there was something else, something more malevolent.
Gareth backed out and slammed the door shut, running as fast as he could. Gareth ran to the end of the hallway and turned back to see the girl giving a slow pursuit, he threw the door open to reception and continued running. The staff member was in the reception locking up the office, Gareth narrowly missed him as he ran past.
“Arsehole.” the staff member muttered under his breath but no need, Gareth burst through exit and was halfway to his car.
He fumbled for his keys, looking nervously around. A loud scream erupted from within the gym. This gave Gareth added focus. Door open, he was sitting down and starting the engine within seconds. He looked in the rearview, the staff member came running out, blood pouring from his neck, the girl followed at a slower pace than before. Gareth threw the car into gear, released the handbrake and put his foot down.
He whipped out of the carpark to an eerily empty street allowing him to put his foot down and drive far beyond the speed limit.
After a couple of miles he slowed down, but still faster than was legal. He whipped through crossings and traffic lights. He didn't know what was going on, but guessed what had happened to that girl is happening elsewhere. He didn't want to be on the streets, he wanted to get back to his apartment and barricade himself inside until the police got their shit together. As he was thinking of the relative safety of his apartment, his attention wandered, he didn't see the small red car coming across the roundabout.
Deadweight Page 9