Capital Falling (Book 3): Resurgence

by Winkless, Lance

  After entering the terminal building, they reach the large departure lounge, where Josh and Alice had been only a few hours ago. Josh’s life has been turned on its head again since they left; will it ever end?

  The lounge is busy, military staff and civilians refuelling in their time window before their next task or mission. The food station is fully stocked again and has a healthy queue of eager diners waiting to be served.

  Dixon and the rest of the SF team are chomping at the bit to get in on the food action but hang back with Josh and Alice—who looks lost for the moment.

  “I know you’ve got a tough task ahead, Josh, but why don’t you get some food first, it will help?” Dixon asks Josh.

  “Thanks, but I can’t face food right now, I need to get to my sister.”

  “I understand, mate; do you know where she is?”

  “Winters said he would make arrangements to take me to her. Maybe he forgot?”

  “Something tells me Winters doesn’t forget,” Dixon observes.

  “Good point. Listen, you all carry on and I’ll find out where she is. You too, Alice.”

  “No Josh, I’m staying with you,” Alice insists.

  “You really don’t have to, Alice.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you to deal with it alone.”

  “Thanks, Alice.”

  “Well good luck, mate; maybe we’ll catch up later but knowing our luck, we will be knee-high in shit again before our food goes down,” Dixon says, then surprisingly gives Josh and Alice both a man hug.

  The rest of the team say their good lucks and goodbyes before heading off to the food station where they ignore the queue, grab plates and dig straight into the food. Nobody in the line messes with them or says a word as they barge in. The military personnel know better than to get between Special Forces and their grub, and the civvies are too taken aback and frightened of the fearsome-looking men to protest.

  Josh looks over to the stairwell by the escalator where officials came from earlier in the day to take everyone’s details. Three military personnel are over there, two men and one woman; one of the men holds a clipboard.

  “Let’s try them, over there,” Josh says pointing at the officials. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to get something to eat?” he asks.

  Alice is already gone, making her way over as she tells Josh, ‘no’.

  Lieutenant Winters hasn’t forgotten the soldier with the clipboard has instructions for an escort to take Josh to the First-Class lounge.

  As he climbs the stairs and walks the corridor, Josh finds he is getting more and more nervous and that his grip on his emotions is slipping. Stay strong, he keeps telling himself. You can’t see Emily looking like a blubbering mess, he steels himself again.

  “Is there anywhere I can freshen up before we get there?” Josh asks their female escort.

  “Are you okay?” Alice immediately asks, with a look of concern etched across her face.

  “Yes, just need the loo and to wash up before I see Em.”

  “There is a toilet just up here,” the escort tells him. “Are you American?” she then asks Alice.

  “Guilty as charged, but don’t hold it against me.”

  “I won’t, where in America are you from?”

  “Born in California, but we moved around a lot when I was young.”

  “California, very swish; wish I were there right now,” their escort says, and who can blame her?

  A glossy First-Class Lounge sign comes into view farther up the bland corridor. It isn’t lit, however, which takes some of the shine off the desired effect. On the right of the corridor, closer to them is another sign, for the public toilets. Josh heads into the men’s without saying anything and Alice decides to take the opportunity and does the same.

  Josh washes up, looking at himself in the mirror as he does. He thinks he looks okay, but he dwells for a moment, staring at himself, psyching himself up ready for his dreadful task.

  The two women are waiting for him as he exits, Alice has a look of concern on her face and her attempt at a reassuring smile is not convincing. The other woman smiles a relaxed smile at Josh as he comes out, oblivious to the whole situation.

  “Can you hold this for me please?” Josh asks Alice, as he holds up his rifle.

  “Of course,” she replies, taking it and putting it over her shoulder and behind her back with hers. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Catherine is sitting on a tall wooden chair at one of the small square tables scattered around the lounge, facing the entry. Her phone is on the table in front of her. She is worried to death but no matter how many times she glances down at the phone, the screen stays black. She forces herself not to switch the screen on again in case she has missed a message from Andy; it’s been sitting there, in front of her and she would have seen any message come through. Emily and Stacey are behind her on one of the couches, with their backs to the entry watching the TV screen mounted on the wall. Thankfully, they had managed to find something on the TV that wasn’t the news. Catherine barely notices what David Attenborough is saying and what animal he is talking about, but it is keeping Emily occupied, at least for the time being.

  Every time someone enters the lounge, Catherine’s hopes rise only to be dashed. She was expecting Andy’s mission to be finished by now and that she would have heard at least something off him, even if only a message telling her he was okay or what was happening. Asking any of the military staff on duty here is useless; they won’t help at all. All they say is to wait and they will update her as soon as there is anything to report.

  The compulsion to check the phone wins and she presses the screen on. All it tells her is the weather forecast and that hasn’t changed either. She picks up her phone, her impatience for news now overwhelming. She is going to get some answers.

  She squeezes the phone into her front pocket, leaning back in her chair to ease it in and is just about to get up when Josh comes into the lounge.

  Catherine’s smile at seeing Josh and then Alice enter the lounge, fades quickly when Andy doesn’t join them. Her stomach tightens as she recognises the agonised look on Josh’s face. She finds herself unable to get out of her chair as foreboding grips, the blood draining from her face.

  Josh and Catherine’s eyes meet across the room and his body stops working too as he comes to a standstill. An eruption of emotion threatens to explode from deep within him. He is teetering on the edge. He must gather his strength, and he has to do it now, but he feels it slipping away.

  Emily comes into Catherine’s mind and she forces herself out of her stupor; she buries her emotion, forcing herself to face the tragic news that Josh is clearly struggling to handle. Catherine falls out of the tall chair, her legs wobbly, the room spinning. She is on her feet though and some strength comes back to her. She wants to reach Josh before Emily realises he has returned, to take him back out to the corridor so that he can tell her what has happened. Catherine must prepare herself, to be ready to be there for Emily. Her own feelings are of little consequence right now.

  “Josh!” Emily shouts from behind Catherine.

  Oh no, Catherine thinks and spins around to Emily, to tell her to wait there while she speaks to Josh. It is too late, however, as Emily is already springing over the back of the couch to run to her brother.

  Catherine watches as Emily runs straight across the room and jumps into Josh’s arms. He picks up his sister and pulls her close, her head going to the side of his as she wraps her arms around his neck. Josh looks across to Catherine, his eyes red and swelling.

  Stacey comes around, standing next to Catherine, and asks, ‘What has happened?’

  “Where is Dad, isn’t he with you?” Emily asks her brother. But he doesn’t answer, can’t answer. “Josh?” she questions again and pushes herself up, looking at her brother. “Josh, what’s wrong, where is Dad?” Emily asks again, her voice cracking, instinctively knowing something is terr
ibly wrong as she sees her brother’s face.

  Josh, struggling to talk, looks at Catherine, asking for help and she goes over to them. Emily is getting more upset by the second and desperately keeps asking where her Dad is.

  “Emily, Josh is upset, let me talk to him for a minute to see what’s wrong; is that okay? Catherine tries to soothe.

  “I want to know where Dad is,” she protests.

  “I know, sweetie, but why don’t you let me talk to him so that I can find out what has happened for you?”

  Emily protests again, but gradually she relents and lets Catherine lift her off Josh.

  “Good girl,” Catherine soothes.

  “Come on, Em, why don’t we wait over on the couch so Catherine can see what’s wrong with Josh?” Stacey says, next to them. Eventually, Emily agrees and they both return to where they sat watching TV.

  Josh has already moved away, trying to hide how upset he is from his sister and has sat on another couch near the entrance. Alice follows him over.

  “What has happened?” Catherine says as she sits down next to Josh, lifting his hand into hers as she does.

  Gradually, Josh tells her the truth about what happened at the Orion building, from start to finish. How Dan was killed and how his Dad was infected. He tells her how he had to leave his Dad behind and the guilt he feels for doing that. It takes time to tell her as he tries to control his emotions. Catherine sits in silence as Josh tells her his awful story. She can’t help but get upset as she hears it, since her heart aches for Josh, for Emily and for herself.

  When Josh finishes, they sit in silence, both processing what he said.

  “Thank you for telling me,” Catherine says, breaking the silence, her spirit hanging by a thread—a thread that, for Emily, she won’t let break.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” Josh says.

  “Josh, you can’t blame yourself, this isn’t your fault; you couldn’t have done anything else.”

  “I could have stayed with him, I left him on his own in the dark.”

  “You had no choice, Josh. What good would it have done if you’d stayed? That is the last thing your father would have wanted. He told you, and he wanted you here with your sister.”

  “Catherine is right, Josh; your dad would have failed if you had done that,” Alice says.

  “I know, it doesn’t make it any easier though.”

  “What shall we tell Emily?” Catherine asks.

  Josh tells Catherine what he has decided to tell Emily and she agrees that it is the best thing to tell her.

  “Are you ready to talk to Emily?” Catherine asks.

  “Yes, I think I am.”

  Colonel Reed has abandoned the command tent where Winters had left him earlier. He and his entourage have relocated to a large conference room in the Terminal 5 building. The room has been freshly kitted out with the latest tech to command and control Operation Denial. The tents acted as a temporary measure the Colonel had set up until this room was up and running.

  Winters is grateful that the new command centre is operational and glad he missed the worst of the weather in that tent. He also suspects that Colonel Reed is pleased to have left the tent behind too, no matter how much bravado he would have given about being on the ground as close to the action as possible.

  The new command area is bustling as Winters enters; easily fifty personnel are busily helping direct the battle to take back London. There had also been a steady stream of staff coming and going as Winters had made his way through the terminal building to get here.

  A bank of fifteen large monitors has been hung onto the wall at the back of the relatively dimly lit room. Streaming onto the screens is footage from ‘action areas’ around London. The footage arriving from drones flying around the city, CCTV cameras and from soldiers’ head cams amongst other sources. Action and fighting fill all the screens. The dark of night is masked by military-grade HD lowlight cameras, street lighting and burning fires. Only a few screens are showing darker images, but they only show the muzzle flashes and explosions in starker contrast.

  In front of the bank of monitors is a cordoned-off area with a few tables and other computer monitors scattered around. Then behind that area, which Winters has just entered, is where the main bulk of the personnel are working. This area is where all the data from the operation is processed and passed up the chain of command. Some of it will reach the top brass in the cordoned-off area, including Colonel Reed.

  Winters, gripping the costly holdall in one hand and his satchel-style briefcase in the other, makes his way down the centre aisle between the rows of whirring computers and busy staff, who constantly crossing over the aisle on important business that can’t be delayed. Winters recognises many of the personnel working in the new command room. All are well trained and that training is constantly refreshed with exercises, drills and lessons.

  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 authorit
arian 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.