I am bent over on the floor, with my arm underneath me. The arm sears with pain from the weight of my body pushing it into the floor and my elbow feels like it is crushed. I have to move, but know that will only bring more excruciating agony.
A familiar high-frequency noise sounds and for a moment, I think I have fallen back into my nightmare. Dark flashbacks race through my head that I struggle to fend off. Fear of the nightmare increases my awareness and I suddenly know what the noise is. My radio headset is buzzing with interference behind me. Behind me, the torch Josh left me lies next to the headset. Can I move, can I sit back up to reach it? I’ve got to do something, I can’t just lie here to die—or worse, turn into the creature.
I do it, without thinking again about it. My right arm comes down and I push against the floor. Pain rips through my creaking body as my joints move, rubbing against each other. I force my back to take the strain, even though it feels like it might break in two. My right legs shifts back to help lever me upright. My burning left arm tries to help but it is dead, numb from being stuck under me, so my back has to work harder.
I scream out as my body moves up. The intense pain is overpowering, and I nearly falter and fall back down to the floor. Only the thought of how much that would hurt keeps me rising. As I reach the top, I almost blackout and nearly swing past being upright and fall down the other way to my right. I manage to catch myself though, just.
Upright again, the pain continues to wave through my body as it settles into its new position. Before I rest and let my body settle fully, my right arm flops down to the floor, and my hand touches Josh’s torch and manages to take hold of it to press the switch.
Fresh bright light brings a small relief to my exhaustion and welcome confirmation that I am indeed alone in my dungeon. The pain subsides somewhat as I sit still. Only my eyes move as they look around the room. The dull ache caused by my eyeballs rolling around their sockets is insignificant in comparison to the rest of my body’s torment, so I let them wander.
As I look at the kit lying around me on the floor, I decide that I am more lucid than I was previously. The agony aside, my brain is working to some extent and even without knowing if this is a temporary reprieve, I take some solace in it.
Just as my body is starting to settle and the pain with it, my eyes fall on a pack of syringes next to my helmet. At first, I wonder what they are for and why they are there? Eventually, through the haze, I remember somebody injecting me with some of them. Is it a serum to fight the virus, or something for the pain—morphine? I can’t remember. Whichever it is, they have been left there for a reason. If they are for the pain, it isn’t worth the renewed agony to retrieve them. I can cope now that my body is readjusting, so I might as well leave them there.
Exhaustion is getting the better of me, and the effort to drag myself up was almost impossible. Rest would be good, but the only problem is, I’m scared to close my eyes again. I’m scared to fall back to sleep and into another nightmare. What if I fall back over? I don’t think I can handle either again.
Morphine would help. It would knock me out, put me too far under to remember any nightmare. It’s worked in the past, in the field, when I’ve self-medicated to help forget the horrors of the day and when sleep had to come, to meet the horrors of the next day.
I eye the pack, which is out of arms’ reach. To get it, I will have to lean over. I am confident that the risk of falling over is small, but I am sure the agony of moving will be fierce.
I calculate that the pain is worth the potential reward.
Pain rips up my back as soon as I slowly start to lean over towards the pack. I bite down hard, crushing my teeth together as my right arm rises and reaches over, increasing my agony still further. My fingertips touch the pack and I slide it closer until my hand can close around it. I flop back upright against the support behind me, my back creaking to a stop. The shooting pains up and down my spine calm gradually as sweat drips down my forehead.
Letting the pain subside before I attempt to open the pack of syringes, I don’t even look at them. I sit with my head back and run through some breathing exercises to control my lung movement. Even breathing hurts, Goddamn it.
With my breathing under control, my eyes look down at the pack in my lap. Of course, it is no good! I can’t read the label; my eyes are at too much of an angle to focus on it. A decision has to be made to either bring my arm up and lift the pack closer or move my head forward to look down at it. My neck is killing me as my left arm starts to lift the pack up. Shooting pain courses through my arm and up into my shoulders as it moves to bring the pack into view. The thought of the morphine flowing into my bloodstream like nectar and up to my welcoming brain excites me. It will make the pain bearable.
Favipiravir (T-705) is written across the packet in big green letters. I am confused for a moment is this a new make of morphine? My disappointment is felt deeply when I read the smaller writing which tells me the syringes are a rabies antiviral. My arms drop uncontrollably back down into my lap, taking the pack with it. There will be no imminent relief from the agony, no feeling of euphoria as my body soaks up the morphine, just more suffering in this dark hole.
The disappointment nearly brings me to tears. I had convinced myself that relief was on the way. I fight the tears away, chastising myself for letting my exhaustion let my mind run away with itself. A memory then presents itself, of somebody injecting the wounds in my face and the pain of the sharp needle puncturing the wounds returns, if only in my mind. Have the injections stopped me turning completely into a Rabid yet or have they delayed the onset? Is it still to come? Is that what I am going through now?
I should have turned by now. I have no idea how long I have been here since I was scratched and infected. But I know it is long enough that I should have turned. From the reports I remember, the turning process can vary from almost instant to a few minutes, ten or fifteen at the most. So why haven’t I turned fully? Is it the injection I was given… it can’t be that simple, and if it were, they would be injecting everyone at risk?
In the movies, there always seems to be somebody who is immune to a viral outbreak, and maybe that’s me? I would laugh at myself if it weren’t so painful. This isn’t the fucking movies, dickhead, I tell myself.
Something is fighting the virus inside of me, I am sure of that. And if there is one thing I have learnt in my life, it’s that while you’re still fighting, there is a chance and that chance could be to see my children again.
My fingers fumble the packet of syringes open, there are still four inside. Fishing one out, I see that the plunger is up and ready to go. For a second, I debate reading the instructions, but I haven’t the energy and decide to just go for it before I change my mind.
The stiff top pops off the syringe, exposing the long needle. I take a breath and start the painful process of raising my arm up. I’m going to inject myself in my cheek with the wounds again, that’s where it was done before and must be the most effective place for the serum to go in. Am I becoming immune to the pain? I can feel it penetrating the muscles and bones of my arm and shoulders as my arm moves, but it doesn’t have the same horrific effect. Or is my mind being taken away from it by the thought of the impending injection?
As the syringe appears before my eyes, level with my contaminated cheek, I turn the needle to point at the wound. My index and middle finger hold the syringe whilst my thumb moves to the top of the plunger, ready to push the antiviral serum out. I can’t see the wound so I’m going to be shooting blind, I take a moment to aim as best I can. My tongue unconsciously curls out of the way as I jab the syringe into my cheek, my thumb ready to push. I barely feel anything until the needle pierces my inner cheek and sticks into my top gum above a tooth, where it is stopped by hitting something hard, either bone or the root of the tooth. Agony rushes across the gum and into my eye which immediately fills with water. I pull the syringe out as quickly as it went in.
I jab it straight back in, swearing
to myself. This time, I go easier and the needle stays within the flesh of my cheek. My thumb and fingers push together, pushing the fluid out and into the wound. My thumb falters, almost coming to a stop as the fluid goes into my cheek, lighting it in burning, searing agony that spreads across the whole side of my face. The fire burns into my eye that now overflows with water, which does nothing to extinguish the flame. My thumb regroups and pushes until the syringe is spent. As my hand falls away the fire has spread to my brain, threatening to melt its soft delicate tissue to dust. The empty vicious syringe dangles down from my cheek, wobbling but refusing to let go.
Deliriously insane as my brain melts, a picture of Josh, Emily, Catherine and Stacey together, on some non-existent beach, with the sea lapping at their feet is before my eyes. I have to join them. I have to find them.
I grab the box of syringes, my whole being fixated on killing the bloody, fucking depraved virus in my body, trying to take my family from me. Syringes scatter, falling and skidding across the floor as the box rips open. One tumbles against my thigh, and it bounces but doesn’t drop to the floor. It stays precariously balanced there. I grab it and in one swift motion pull the top off and plunge it into my belly. As my thumb pushes the plunger down, the fire spreads to my stomach. I don’t care in my delirium though; I welcome the fire that will scorch the virus from my body and finally purge me of it.
I’m hurting and spent, with no more energy to fight. My arms flop down either side of my body, now useless limbs. My head goes back and eyes close as exhaustion takes me in. Unconsciousness comes again; nightmares or not, it doesn’t matter—there is no stopping it. The vision of my family takes me into the darkness, easing my passing, overriding my agony until they too fade into black.
Chapter 7
“I have something, Major,” one of the analysts across the table from Winters and Major Rees announces, lifting a file above her head as if she is at the bingo hall.
“Show me,” Major Rees replies, not looking up from the file he is studying.
The female analyst, with short blonde bobbed hair and glasses, rises from her chair. Winters has found himself sneaking looks at her whenever he can, which is very unlike him. He has tried to stop himself, especially after she caught him gazing at her. She has the look of intelligence that Winters is drawn to and her pretty face only adds to the attraction, Winters has to admit to himself.
She comes around the table and stands in the gap between where he and Rees are seated, with her back to him, to show the Major the data she has discovered. Winters receives a waft of her perfume as she stands there, and he finds his eyes have left the file in front of him.
“Have you found something, Lieutenant?” Major Rees asks bluntly.
Winters finds himself staring at the analyst’s bum, tightly packed into light blue jeans. Flustered for a second—which rarely happens to him—he nearly drops the file in his hand.
“No, Sir, not yet,” he manages to blurt out as he regains his composure. He scolds himself for letting his concentration lapse and worse, for getting caught.
“Be sure to let me know if you do, Lieutenant, won’t you?” Rees adds.
“Yes, Sir, of course.” Winters feels his face flush with embarrassment as he scolds himself again.
Rees and the analyst study the file she has brought around for a good few minutes, discussing the contents, and their voices have excitement in them. Winters has his eyes under control again but still finds himself more interested in her voice than in the mundane information in front of him. He hopes that she has indeed found the data they have been searching for and that they will finally have something to take to Colonel Reed.
“Lieutenant?” Rees says.
“Yes, Sir,” Winters replies, looking directly at him.
“It seems that Sam has possibly found some of the data we are looking for. That’s not to say other relevant information isn’t here that we haven’t discovered yet, but I would say that this file is related to the type of virus we are dealing with. Wouldn’t you agree, Sam?”
“Yes, from my understanding, I would agree,” she says as she turns in Winters’ direction.
“Excellent, Major and well done, Sam,” Winters says, looking up to Sam, feeling his face redden slightly as their eyes meet.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Sam acknowledges with a broad, enticing smile.
“I shall inform Colonel Reed immediately, Sir?”
“We still have about thirty minutes until I have to report to the Colonel, Lieutenant. I would like to double-check the data and Sam is going to go through the other files in that batch to see if there are any others that are related. Can you hold off reporting to the Colonel until then?” Rees asks but knows the answer he will get.
“I am afraid not, Sir; I am under direct orders to inform Colonel Reed the moment anything is found. Sorry, Sir.”
“Well at least inform him what we plan to do now and ask him to give me until the time is up so that I can give him the most comprehensive report possible. I will need at least some time to digest what Sam has found.”
“Of course, Sir. Now if you will excuse me, I will have to make the call.” Winters gets up, brushing past Sam on his way out.
Winters leaves the conference room for the corridor to get some privacy for his phone call. He has a second ulterior motive for leaving.
“Yes, Winters.” The Colonel answers his phone bluntly.
“Major Rees has found some information in the files that he thinks is related to the virus, Sir. He is evaluating it now, Sir and will make his report as ordered, Sir.”
“Excellent, Winters; is the information going to be of help?”
“Unknown at this time, Sir. It has only just been found and there could be more information, Sir. They are checking related files now, Sir.”
“Understood, make sure he is on time, Winters. I have to report to the Home Secretary.” The Colonel hangs up.
The phone call went exactly as he expected. Winters is well used to short abrupt phone calls with the Colonel and gave up on expecting anything other a long time ago.
His phone stays in his hand as he moves screens to missed calls, where Josh’s number sits at the top of the list.
“Thanks for calling me back, Sir,” Josh answers the phone almost immediately.
“Sorry I missed your call; how is your sister?”
“She is as well as can be expected, upset but okay, I think?”
“Good, I am pleased to hear that. What can I do for you, Josh?”
“Can you arrange a car and clearance for us to leave the base, Sir We need transport out of here.”
“What is your plan?”
“Catherine, my Dad’s, err, girlfriend—” Josh pauses for a second, wondering if that is the right term.
“Yes, I know Catherine, please continue.” Winters helps Josh out.
“Oh, okay, good, Catherine has a friend in Devon with accommodation that we can use, so we plan to go there and then see how things go.”
“Sounds like a good place to start, Josh. I am sure I can help but you will have to give me some time. I am right in the middle of something.”
“The contents of Sir Malcolm’s safe, I take it, Sir?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Are they any use, Sir?”
“It looks like we have found something that could be useful. I don’t think it was all in vain, Josh.”
“That is something, I suppose, Sir?”
“Let’s hope so. How many of you are travelling to Devon?”
“That’s the other thing; we need your help with, Alice, Sir. We want her to travel with us, so can you arrange for her clearance too, Sir?”
“That will be trickier, Josh, but leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Sir. With Alice, there will be five of us travelling.”
“Understood, Josh. I will come back to you as soon as I can so sit tight, okay?”
“Yes, Sir, I will wait for your
call. Thank you, Sir.”
“Thank me when it’s done. I’ll speak to you either way soon.”
“Until then, Sir.”
Winters hangs up and puts the phone back into his pocket. He is confident that arranging a car for them won’t be a problem but getting clearance for Alice to go with them might be difficult. Colonel Reed made the deal with Andy for Josh to leave if he took the mission, but there was no deal made for Alice. She is still enlisted, and the Colonel will expect her back on duty, he won’t lose an able-bodied fighting soldier without good reason. Winters will either have to give the Colonel a reason to give her clearance or he will have to do some creative, possibly underhanded paperwork. Winters will have to give it some thought.
“Sir, Colonel Reed has agreed to stick with the time frame for you to make your report to him,” Winters tell Major Rees as he returns to the conference room.
“Well done, Lieutenant,” Rees answers, back in his chair with his head buried in another file.
“That’s in twenty minutes, Sir.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, Lieutenant.”
Sam has moved positions and is sitting in the chair Winters was occupying. She is studying files laid out on the table in front of her. It seems Winters has been demoted.
“Pull up another chair, Lieutenant, I am sure we can find something for you to make use of your time with,” Rees says, pointing to a gap on the far side of him, away from the analyst, Sam.
Does he think he needs to keep us apart? Winters thinks as he moves around to retrieve a chair.
Josh turns back to the others, letting his phone drop in his hand down to his side.
He knew Alice coming with them could be a major issue and he can’t help but look straight at her.
“I guess I’m not coming then, by the look on your face?” Alice presumes, looking straight back at him.
Capital Falling (Book 3): Resurgence Page 6