“Bingo,” the Major says quietly to himself as he lifts out a locking plastic box with a dark transparent lid. Inside the box, lined up for them all to see are floppy disks, the small hard plastic types, used before computer storage went digital.
When the Major finally finishes, the table’s covered in items, and he takes a step back and clasps his hands behind him. His eyes continue to dart between the items on the table for a while until he finally looks up to Colonel Reed.
“Well Major, what is your prognosis?” the Colonel demands, leaning forward again.
“It looks promising, Colonel, but I can’t say for sure any of it will be useful until we have had a chance to go through and study the paperwork and computer storage disks, if the disks are even still viable, Sir.”
“And how long will that take, Major?”
“How long is a piece of string, Sir?”
“It’s as long as I fucking say it is, soldier,” Reed growls.
“Yes, Sir, sorry Sir; what I meant to say is, with the right equipment and the right team, two, maybe three hours until we know if there is any data related to the viral infection. We would then have to study that data if we find it, Sir.
“You have two hours to find out if there is anything useful here, Major. Lieutenant Winters will get you what you need to proceed. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir!”
Major Rees opens up the holdall again and starts replacing the items back inside, ready to take them away to wherever he will be taken by the Lieutenant. He picks up one of the bundles of fifty-pound notes, unsure what to do with all the money.
“What shall I do with this, Sir?” Rees asks, holding up the bundle just as the Colonel and his cronies turn away from the table, done with the Major for now.
“Is it relevant to your analysis, Major?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then give it to Lieutenant Winters, he will take care of it,” Colonel Reed says, looking at Winters for a second, before carrying on moving away.
Winters knows exactly what will happen to the money. The Colonel will leave it in his care for a suitable amount of time until it is forgotten about and then it will disappear into the Colonel's coffers. He is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as Winters knows well.
“What is the latest report on the progress of Operation Denial, Sir?” Winters asks Major Rees as he hands over the wads of cash for Winters to stuff into his satchel.
“Bad, Lieutenant; our forces are making little progress in clearing the city and forcing the infected people east. The area is so large there are simply too many streets and buildings to clear. Most zones are bogged down in trying to clear their areas and engaging in running battles with the infected. And of course, if our troops lose a battle or even a skirmish, they invariably turn and are added to the army of infected, so it’s a double-edged sword.”
“So, I take it there is a lot riding on you finding something in those files, Sir?”
“I think Command are pinning their hopes on a cure or a weapon being found in this bag. I’ve told the Colonel numerous times that it is a long shot, but he doesn’t want to listen.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least, Sir.”
“The man is an acquired taste, that is for certain,” Major Rees says, nervous about deriding the Colonel in front of his assistant.
“He certainly is,” Winters confirms, also keeping his opinion to himself. “Okay, let’s get you set up with what you need, Sir,” he adds as the Major finishes repacking the holdall.
Chapter 4
The flesh on its body burns like volcanic lava, the skin threatening to melt away and drip from its body, its organs boiling, adding to the excruciating searing pain. Encased within its melting body are its bones which feel as brittle as if they had been dipped and frozen in liquid nitrogen, and the slightest impact would risk making them splinter, crack and break.
Movement is impossible, the agony too great. The half-dead creature is motionless in the pitch black with only its nightmares for company.
The creature retches uncontrollably. Toxic, acid bile oozes out of its gaping mouth, flowing down its body and legs onto the floor to join the shit and piss already pooled there. Its retching causes its body to convulse, involuntarily sending its pain level rocketing to greater, unknown heights. Passing out from the agony, oblivion brings temporary relief from the torture.
Memories flash through the creature’s unconscious mind while it is passed out, the pain blocked by its brain. Fleeting memories of its children disappear too quickly to grab and hold onto.
Images swirl around in its brain from across its life, some happy ones, ones it is unconsciously grateful to see again, but they are overpowered by images the creature would rather forget. Images from its years on the battlefield, the blood and guts of the twisted bodies of its enemies and comrades. The terrible images move out of focus, only to be replaced by other horrific images. The creature’s mind had buried them years ago but now they are unlocked and gush out like blood from a slit artery, coming to torment it.
Consciousness returns, bringing the impossible agony with it. More bile bubbles from deep within the creature and starts to rise through its gut. ‘No, no,’ its mind screams, it cannot go through another bout of retching, the pain is too much to bear. It can feel the noxious fluid rising though, and it cannot be stopped; the creature’s dry mouth liquifies and the inevitable retching begins again. The creature tries to accept the excruciating pain the retching delivers, tries to let the fluid evacuate its guts, to get it over with. It tries to blank it all out and let it happen.
Thick fluid bile bursts from its throat in streams, following down its usual path to the floor. Revolting chunks follow the liquid and the creature has to cough them up through its throat and spit them out to stop itself choking, its pain levels soaring higher. Is the virus rejecting its body’s organs? Are they being liquified and ejected through its mouth, no longer required?
The remnants of the creature’s mind attempt to figure out what is happening to it, but its thoughts are a jumbled mess, incoherent, the agony overriding everything. The creature’s hand twitches in the hope that the Glock is still in it so that it can raise it to its temple, squeeze the trigger and end this nightmare, but the creature’s hand is empty.
A chunk is wedged in the creature’s throat and it prepares for the onslaught of pain that will hit when it has to try and dislodge it. Before it can prepare, though, the creatures body spasms and the coughing starts in reflex to clear its throat. The coughing causes more retching, yet the chunk remains lodged. The creature’s brain is overloaded with pain as the spasms increase and it starts to shut down. Any semblance of balance is lost as it spasms and its body tilts and slides sideways across the cupboards behind it until its tilt goes past the point of no return. The creature's body falls slowly down onto the floor and onto its side. Thankfully the creature’s brain has shut down and only its unconsciousness saves it from the agony of the fall.
This time, there are no memories or images to accompany it, only darkness and oblivion.
Chapter 5
Josh feels his sister’s sobbing has calmed slightly. Emily lies against him as they sit on the couch facing the TV where Emily and Stacey were when he arrived.
Emily has taken the news of her Dad as badly as Josh had feared. She is still too young for any attempt to put a brave face on it; her emotion and feeling had flooded out immediately. She couldn’t hold it back as she didn’t know how to, and why should she?
Josh had cried somewhat with her, but he didn’t let himself go. He did have to be brave, if that is the right word, and suppress the majority of his emotion for his loss. He had to be brave for Emily, he had to support her, since she came first now. Was he starting to unconsciously think and feel like their Dad did, thinking of his sister before all else?
If so, something tells him that that feeling is only going to get stronger as he starts to take full responsibility for Emily. Josh knows
that is what his dad would have wanted, but perhaps he isn’t only going to do it for that reason. Perhaps he takes after his Dad in some ways and he is doing it because he feels it, an unexplainable feeling. Is this the feeling that only a parent would know or a surrogate parent as Josh is now? Josh knows one thing for sure; he is more than just a brother to his sister. He is also her guardian.
“Emily?” Josh says reassuringly, looking down at the blonde curls below him but getting no response. “Emily, shall we go downstairs and see what there is to eat?” Still no response, but Josh persists; he wants to try and take her mind off what has happened a bit and a change of scenery will help. “Come on, Emily, I’m quite hungry, will you come with me?” He moves his body under her a little bit to help try and stir her.
“Umm,” Emily growls and fidgets, and it isn’t much of a response, but it is one.
Catherine, who sits with her legs curled up to the side of the couch, in an armchair, starts to stir. Her head has been down too, her hair covering her face. Gradually, her head comes up and she looks over to Josh. She wipes her nose with a tissue that has been resting in her hand for the last thirty or forty minutes. Her eyes are puffy and red, and her makeup smudged from her tears.
“Yes, Emily, let’s have a look downstairs; we have been cooped up is here for a long time, so a change of scenery will be good for us all,” Catherine says.
“In a minute,” Emily responds, a little surprisingly, from her burrow at Josh’s side.
“Good girl. I’d better fix my makeup then. I think it is going to be very smudged.” Catherine tries to sound a bit upbeat.
“I’ll come with you,” Stacey says from beside Josh. “Do you want to come with us, Emily?”
Catherine and Stacey make a show of getting up from their seats and to Josh’s surprise, Emily does start to move. Emily rises up and off Josh. Standing up, she follows the other two towards the bathroom. Her hair is a mess around her head she walks slowly, her arms by her side and her head tilted down slightly. Josh wonders how she can see where she is going.
Moving his back off the couch, Josh raises his arms and stretches before getting to his feet.
He goes around the couch and over to Alice, who sits at a table behind. Seeing Josh come over, she puts her phone on the table.
“Sorry if it’s a bit morbid,” he tells her.
“Don’t be silly, Josh, that is completely understandable. I just sat over here because you all wouldn’t want a stranger with you at a time like this.”
“A stranger… Now who’s being silly? You aren’t a stranger.”
“Well, I’m not exactly but you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do and thanks.”
“Thanks for what?”
“I dunno, you’ve been a good support to me, Alice.”
“I’m glad I could be of service,” Alice jokes, with a lovely smile.
“Are you hungry?” Josh asks, finding himself a bit flustered, not knowing what else to say.
“I could eat, for sure.”
Emily’s hair is back under control when they return from the bathroom and although she still looks delicate, her eyes are dry and there is even a hint of a smile when Josh holds out his hand to her.
As they all approach the exit from the lounge, the soldier who has been standing inside the door moves across it.
“I have been ordered to ask the three ladies to wait inside until further notice.”
“Ordered by whom?” Josh asks.
“By my superior, Private,” the Lance Corporal tells him.
Josh suddenly has visions of how his father would have brushed this soldier aside by bending him to his will or ordering him to move. Josh doesn’t hold the rank to be able to give any orders, nor does Alice for that matter. After the events of the last two days, he feels totally inadequate for it. He debates how to handle the situation. One option would be to leave himself and speak to a superior, possibly Lieutenant Winters—or even better, Dixon is just downstairs. Josh is sure Dixon would jump at the chance to deal with their guard. Before he formulates any more options, Catherine deals with the situation for them.
“Move out of our way, young man,” she says. “We are not prisoners; we have been in this room for hours. We are going downstairs to get something to eat and if that a problem, then I suggest you take it up with your superiors, or you can shoot us of course. Now move,” Catherine instantly regrets saying shoot us, with Emily beside her.
The soldier looks like a small boy who has just been told off by his mum; he still doesn’t move, though. He has his orders after all.
“Why don’t we compromise?” Alice suggests. “Why don’t you escort the three ladies down to the lounge area, Lance Corporal, I am sure you have had enough up here too and you’re probably hungry and could eat some food?”
The mention of the word food is a masterstroke by Alice. Bribing a young squaddie with food gets a result more often than not.
After a moment’s deliberation, the five of them are walking down the corridor to the stairs under the close supervision of their guard, the Lance Corporal.
Emily holds her brother's hand all the way and her grip tightens when they exit the stairs into the bustle of the departure lounge.
Although still busy, the lounge has thinned out since Josh and Alice came through it a while ago. Thankfully, however, the food is still being served and they head straight for it. There are plenty of tables to choose from after they have been served and Catherine points out a possible one.
“Josh, Alice!” a call comes from their right.
Sergeant Dixon is standing next to a table with his hand in the air.
“Who is that?” Catherine asks.
“That is Sergeant Dixon and his SBS patrol, the ones I mentioned upstairs.” Josh answers.
“Okay, you go ahead and tell them to be discreet before we follow you over,” Catherine tells Josh, turning her back on Emily who is beside her with her tray of food, so she doesn’t hear.
“I’ll go, you stay with Emily,” Alice says quietly to Josh, before walking off in their direction, her tray of food out in front of her.
Josh puts his tray of food down when he reaches them, before he greets his SBS comrades.
“Good to see you all,” Josh says as he shakes the four men’s hands. “I thought you would be gone by now—where are the other lads?”
“They were reassigned before they had a chance to finish their nosh. Terrible luck for them,” Dixon says, smiling from ear to ear about the misfortune of his SAS counterparts. “You were lucky to catch us. We are off now, just had time for dessert and after-dinner coffee though.” His smile broadens.
“What’s your assignment?” Alice asks.
“Can’t say, my dear,” Dixon answers.
“Top Secret, is it?” Josh asks.
“No, they just haven’t told us yet, just been given a time and a place to report in. Anyway, forget that, who is this lovely girl?” Dixon says, bending down to Emily, who still stands with her tray, which Stacey takes off her.
“This is my sister Emily.”
“Ah, I thought it must be, nice to meet you, Emily, I’m Dixon, I knew your father, he told me you were a lovely brave girl.”
“Don’t you have a proper name?” Emily says, recoiling slightly from the big, scared SBS operative.
“Ha-ha, straight to the point just like your father. I do but people just call me Dixon.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr Dixon,” Emily says shyly.
Dixon laughs again. “Nice to meet you too, Emily. Right, we better be on our way.” Dixon says as he stands up straight.
The four men gather their gear together and say their goodbyes.
“Look after your brother, Emily,” Dixon turns and says as they go.
“How did he know Dad?” Emily asks.
“He was on the mission when Dad died,” Josh says, unsure if it was the right thing to say.
“Oh,” is all Emily says before she sits down at the tabl
e with her food.
Major Rees glances at his watch with some trepidation, regretting the amount of time he had told Colonel Reed it would take to sift through all the files and information laid out in front of him. He now wishes he had added more time to his estimate.
Lieutenant Winters had instantly seconded another conference room close to the command centre to work from. He was also in the process of assigning a team to the task and arranging the requested equipment to be delivered. That didn’t change the fact that now Rees had laid all the evidence out on the long black conference table, he was sure more time would be needed, time that wouldn’t be forthcoming.
Sadness and regret that Molly, his brilliant and trusted Lieutenant, isn’t here to assist him hits Rees and then the guilt of her death washes over him. She had warned him so many times of her misgivings with the operation to vacate the old storage facility. She had urged for the operation to be halted, revaluated and new wide-ranging precautions to be adopted. Not an hour before the disaster happened, she had burst into his office demanding that the operation be halted and saying that it wasn’t being carried out safely. He had agreed with her concerns, had even protested to his superiors—but in the end what did he do? Instead of stopping the operation and refusing to carry on, he had followed orders, had ordered Molly to continue with an operation that he knew wasn’t safe.
Nobody was holding him responsible for the disaster; his protests had been lodged with his superiors and were on record. The disaster, the viral outbreak and all that is now following are being blamed on a forklift driver and a young contractor fainting. Those are the CCTV images being shown by the news outlets to explain how the disaster happened.
Capital Falling (Book 3): Resurgence Page 4