No mention of piss-poor planning, cost-cutting or incompetent management. The cover-up is in full swing, everyone is covering their arses and that include Rees. He knows that his weakness and incompetence is to blame for the whole catastrophe. He is responsible for Molly’s death and untold numbers of others. He was in charge of that facility and the guilt hangs over him like a crushing weight.
When the time is right, when he has done all he can to try and stop the outbreak, he will confess to his responsibility, confess and be damned to his fate, as he deserves.
That time is not now, though. Now, he must use all his knowledge to stop the outbreak. There are few people who have his background and understanding of the type of virus spreading in the general population. He knows how they work, and he knows the consequences if it isn’t stopped. To give himself up now would be selfish. He must carry his burden and fight the virus, not for redemption. He is beyond redemption, so his only motivation now is to kill the virus.
Major Rees looks again at the files in front of him, thinks again of Molly and reaches for the first file.
“A team of six analysts will be here in less than ten minutes,” Lieutenant Winters informs Rees just as he is opening the first file. “They were already on-site, on secondment from GCHQ to analyse the data from Operation Denial. Two have a medical background and the others have experience in chemical and biological weapon data. It’s the best I could do within the time frame, Sir.”
“Very good, Lieutenant; that is better than I was expecting. And the equipment?”
“The computers will be here momentarily, Sir, including two floppy disk readers with USB connectivity. Our best tech guys will set them up and install the software to read the floppy disks. In fact, here they are now, Sir.” Winters goes over to the door and waves them in, with the hardware on two-wheeler sack trucks.
“Set the computer up there as quickly as you can,” Rees says, pointing. The three men in military uniforms say, ‘yes, Sir,’ and urgently get to it.
“Is there anything else you need, Sir?” Winters asks.
“Yes, an overhead projector; I have just noticed a file of films.”
“We really are going ‘old school,’ Sir.”
“The contents of that safe were in there for many years, Lieutenant, and the only thing that could play into our hands is that they have been well protected.”
“I’ll get on it, Sir,” Winters says, already scrolling through his phone.
Finally, Major Rees’s head goes down and he starts to analyse the data in the first file he picked up. This is his forte, crunching data in his head. Biological, chemical or physical makes little difference to him; he is a genius when it comes to understanding scientific data. The text, equations and chemical compound structures are his domain and that is why he has the rank of Major. It isn’t because of his people skills or fighting prowess.
Rees is virtually finished analysing the first file from page to page when the team of analysts from GCHQ arrives on the scene. The file has no data relevant to the virus and he picks up a red marker pen that arrived with the equipment to mark the front of the folder. He will have the file double and triple-checked even though he is confident it has no bearing. Each pair of eyes might see something from a different angle and come to a different conclusion. Rees does not think he is infallible, far from it, as the last few days have proven.
In rapid time, the computers are up and running, their fans working to keep them cool. And when the Tech guys, who actually consist of two women and one man, have the software installed and disk readers connected, their leader, Lieutenant Fiona Portman, stands to attention to inform the Major.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Let’s see if these disks are still readable?” Rees says handing her the plastic box containing the old technology.
“Yes, Sir,” she replies eagerly, taking the box as if it is a Christmas present.
In quick time, everyone is busy with their assigned tasks; three of the analysts sit around the table, sifting through the files, checking, double-checking before triple-checking the data. Flagging any data that could be relevant and passing it on, its final destination Major Rees.
Only one of the floppy disks is corrupted and unreadable and that disk is currently being taken apart, cleaned and reassembled to try and get at least some data off it. The data on the rest of the floppy disks is considerable and is going to take time to analyse, so there is no time to waste. Two analysts sit in front of the computers sorting the data, sending documents to the hastily set-up printer that’s constantly churning out paper.
Colonel Reed suddenly strides through the door, into the conference room.
All the military personnel in the room instantly stop what they are doing and stand to attention. The analysts from GCHQ give him a cursory look to see what the fuss is about and then get back to work.
“At ease men, carry on,” the Colonel orders, not wanting the work on his prize to be delayed. “Report, Major,” Reed says, striding over to Rees who stands with an open file in his hand.
“We have found no data connection to the virus as of yet, Sir. There is a lot of data to analyse, however. The computer disks are providing masses of data, Sir, all of which need to be sorted and analysed. With the amount of data there is, Sir, it could take hours, if not days to get through.”
“We don’t have hours, and days, Major, as you well know. I don’t want to hear excuses. I want to see results!”
“I understand that, Sir, we are getting through the data as quickly as possible, Sir, with the resources we have, Sir.”
“If you need more resources, Lieutenant Winters will provide you with them. I expect your report within the hour, Major.”
“Yes, Sir,” Major Rees says as the Colonel turns and leaves.
Rees turns away from the exiting Colonel and looks at the mound of files on the conference table. New files are being added to the table constantly as the printer works overtime. New data is collated, stapled together and brought over ready for analysis. The task is daunting and as a sinking feeling starts to develop in Rees’s stomach, he looks over to Lieutenant Winters, in the hope that he can offer some solutions.
Josh looks over to his little sister. Emily has hardly eaten any of her food. Her right elbow is perched on top of the table and her head is resting on its hand. Her left hand holds her fork which pushes food around her plate aimlessly. She stars down blankly at the food changing positions. She is in another world, and Josh knows what she will be thinking about; the look of sadness on her face tells him that if nothing else.
Josh had expected Emily to be much worse and more upset than she is. She was very upset when he told her, as inconsolable as Josh had expected. He hadn’t anticipated how quickly she would start to recover, however. For her to be sitting down here at the table is proof of that and Josh doesn’t know if he should be more worried by it. She is very quiet and who knows what is actually going on in her head?
Maybe the events of the last few days have hardened her to her loss? Perhaps it hasn’t come as such a shock to her? These are not normal times and so maybe he shouldn’t expect her to be affected as normal? She has seen the world in a different light now—everybody has, and that can’t be undone. She has seen Stacey lose both of her parents and seen how strong she has been, so maybe some of her strength has transferred to Emily?
Whatever it is, Josh knows he has to keep a close eye on her, and that she is hurting, even if she is hiding--or worse, burying--it.
The Lance Corporal, their escort, is keeping his distance whilst keeping a close eye on them. He has finished his food and is sits at the table adjacent to them. Catherine had invited him over to join them, but he politely refused, preferring to stay where he was. That was probably a good idea for him, as Catherine had only wanted to try and get him onside.
“There is nothing keeping us here now, so we should get out of the city,” Catherine suddenly says.
“I agree,” Josh says after a small pause.
“Have you any ideas where we could go and how to get there?”
“I have friends in Devon. They have a farm, it’s beautiful down there. I have spoken to them and they have said we can go there. They have a holiday home on the farm that they rent out which we can use. What do you think?”
“It sounds too good to be true! Did you tell them there are four or five of us?” Josh asks, glancing at Alice.
“Yes, I explained the situation and they are more than happy for us to use the holiday home. I’ve known them for a long time, and they would say if it was a problem. They have had quite a few cancellations. Well, actually, everybody has cancelled.”
“What do you think, Emily, it sounds nice don’t you think, countryside and beaches?” Josh asks.
“I suppose.” Emily shrugs, without looking up.
“What about you, Stacey, what do you think?” Josh asks, looking over to her.
“It sounds fine. I will have to speak to my grandparents again though. They have asked me if I want to go to theirs?” Stacey says, confused by the whole situation--and who can blame her?
“Alice?” Josh finally asks.
“I don’t know what I am going to do. I guess I will have to speak to my superiors. I am sure they will want to reassign me.”
“No way,” Josh says. “My Dad made a deal that if we completed the mission we would be out.”
“Are you sure that included me, Josh? I’m not,” Alice says, looking worried.
“I will speak to Lieutenant Winters and get him to clear it,” Josh says, sounding more confident than he is.
“Well if that is the case, then yes, I’m definitely up for some sea air. Me and my parents aren’t close, and they are back in the U.S. anyway.”
“How are we going to get to Devon?” Stacey asks.
“I will see if Lieutenant Winters can help us, see if he can get us a car or something?” Josh says.
“I think you are putting a lot of stock in the Lieutenant,” Alice says.
“When we got back, he said to contact him if I needed anything. I think he was feeling guilty, so I’ll try.”
“He should feel guilty, but not as much as bloody Colonel Reed, I think I’ll wring his neck if I see him again,” Catherine seethes and a silence falls over the table.
“Okay, we are all agreed,” Josh says, breaking the silence. “I’ll see if I can get hold of Lieutenant Winters.”
“You tell me if you need to me talk to him, Josh. We have some history and might be able to put some pressure on him,” Catherine insists.
“Okay, thanks; I will,” Josh says and gets up from the table, reaching for his phone in his front pocket. He finds Lieutenant Winters’ number and presses call.
Winters has been reassigned by Major Rees into helping go through the growing piles of paperwork constantly coming fresh off the printer. There seems to be no end to them. He had forgotten how much data the old 3 ½” floppy disks could actually hold. By today’s standards, the memory of a floppy disk is tiny, but they can still store a mass of information, especially when it’s simple forms and data.
Winters had tried to insist that he didn’t know what he would be looking for. That didn’t work with the Major, though. The Major used flattery to get him onboard, telling him he was an intelligent man and that all he needed to do was look for any information pertaining to viruses, chemicals or anything that sounded medical. If he found anything, he was to put it in a certain pile for further investigation. Winters’ job basically was to root out the information that was definitely not what they were looking for.
The loudest sound in the conference room is the repetitive sound of the printer working. All of the analysts are silent, using all of their concentration to study the information in front of them. The military personnel follow suit, not wanting to break that concentration. Winters hopes that at any moment, somebody will speak up, saying they have found something he waits on.
A vibration buzzes against Winters’ thigh and he pulls his phone out to see who is calling him.
“That had better be important, Lieutenant,” Major Rees states.
“No Sir, it can wait,” Winters replies as he presses the reject button on his phone's screen. He will call Josh Richards back as soon as he can.
Chapter 6
A faint intermittent high-frequency tone hums somewhere inside his head. Has a mosquito crawled down his ear lobe, eaten through his eardrum and burrowed into his brain to make its nest? The jungle is bursting with insects searching for a suitable dark hole to lay their larvae, to keep them safe from predators.
Andy knows the jungle well, since he has spent many nights sleeping under the stars on SAS training in Belize or Borneo. He knows that the jungle comes alive at night and is he very familiar with the sounds and noises that are frustratingly inescapable. There are no such noises tonight, only the intermittent tone that is fading as darkness returns to envelop him.
***
The tone is there again—or is it his imagination? Andy fixes on it in his dream.
Who is watching what programme on the television? Why don’t they turn it down and stop disturbing my sleep? I need to sleep… my brain is too tired to wake up. My patrol will have to wait or go without me. I cannot run up that hill again… my shoulders are aching still from carrying the bergen filled with rocks. I still feel its weight dragging me down, pulling my shoulders from their sockets. Please turn that television down, let me rest.
Chatter, the blood-stained teeth chatter together, then they part, opening wide. Drool slides down over the black lips, across the grey chin and down, extending, stretching, flowing down, dribbling onto the skin of my bare exposed arm, making me shiver. The teeth move closer, opening wider for a dark rusty brown tongue to slither out, wet with drool. The dirty tongue licks across the side of my face, licking the wounds there. Why won’t my head move away? Fear paralyses me. Lick the wounds again! I want you to, the wounds you put there with your infected fingernails… clean them, you fucker.
Its tongue slides back inside its disgusting mouth, into that dark crevice, flicking across its lips on its way in, to moisten them. Relief comes as the creature’s head moves back away from me, its bloodstained teeth still on show, threatening.
The black pools of its eyes stare at me, and there is a dim reflection in them as if the moon is reflecting in the black waters of night. He looks closer, my eyes straining to see what’s there, reflected in the creature's eyes. Unknowingly, I lean forward to see what is hidden. I have to see. The reflection gets bigger, gradually coming into view. Panic stuns me as realisation hits. The black eyes of another creature are hidden in the reflection, staring back at me, the reflection of me…
The repulsive creature reflected is me!
I manage to back away, not wanting to see the horrible truth. There is a wall behind me, stopping me getting away from what I have been shown. I push against it, wishing it to give way. I look around for something to grab hold of, to pull myself away. There is nothing, only blackness; it surrounds everything. The only light is in front of me, bathing the heinous creature. It sits on its haunches looking at me, studying me and waiting, waiting for what, to attack me, to devour me? I have to escape—but escape to where there is only emptiness. Something touches my wrist and I look down to see what it is, fear welling inside me again. Is this the start of the attack? The creature's hand squeezes my wrist and then slides up my arm gently, caressing. It feels good, welcoming. My fear subsides and I look up again, look into the creature's eyes. It pulls me forward, towards it, and at first, I resist, unsure. The creature's eyes blink and its head tilts slightly. It pulls again, and I give in. As I move forward into the creature's body, its other arm moves around my shoulders to pull me in closer. The creature swaddles me into its body and I welcome its embrace, its affection caring and warm. Finally safe, I can rest and as my mind relaxes, sleep comes.
***
The tone is there again, squawking quietly into my head and it wakes me from my slum
ber. I feel for my companion, but its embrace has disappeared; where has it gone? My eyes strain to open as my weary body and head protest. Slowly, they open, my blurred vision impaired by the darkness. Gradually my head moves, looking around the blackness for my companion. A dim light not far away shows me where my creature is.
It’s crouched over with its back to me, but it knows I am awake, I can feel it. I long again for its embrace, so why doesn’t it come to me? Finally, my creature starts to move around, leaving whatever it is doing. My hope rises as its heads turns towards me. It lifts its head, its face coming into view. Deep red blood is smeared across its mouth and lips and covers its chin. Its protruding teeth are coated in blood, with flesh hanging down between them as blood drips from its mouth.
My heart stops as I see below, to what it has been feeding on; the long blonde curls are unmistakable even though her face is masked. Emily!
The shock makes me jerk awake from my nightmare, adrenaline pouring through my body. Dread and fear consume me, almost shielding me from the pain that racks my body. My head spins, grasping to find reality. Am I awake or still asleep? The almighty agony tells me I’m awake. My head moves slightly, slipping my face on the slick, cold tiled floor, where I lie. Even that small movement sends bolts of excruciating pain thundering down my neck and back.
Emily; is she hurt? Is the Rabid here with me?
It was a nightmare, it must have been a nightmare, I tell myself.
Something is in my mouth, resting on my bottom cheek that is against the floor. My tongue pushes the rank chunk that was lodged in my throat out through my lips, but the foul taste remains.
My eyes stay closed, afraid of what they will see if they were to open. I must open them, however, to prove it wasn’t real, it wasn’t Emily, and it was all in my head. My eyes flash open quickly and widen to see what is waiting in the darkness. My eyes slowly adjust and begin to work. A flicker of light emanates from the dying torch that was left on the sink top above. The fading light is just enough for my struggling vision to see that I am alone, that there are no monsters here, tormenting me.
Capital Falling (Book 3): Resurgence Page 5