Chronicles of the Infected Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Wood, Rick

  “Please, I’m not going to hurt you. If I was going to hurt you, why would I have wasted medical supplies on you?”

  Gus looked around him. He was attached to a drip. The pain in his right thigh had gone, presumably from another dose of the right medication. What’s more, there was a flower in a vase in the corner of the room, and the pillow beneath him smelt like lavender.

  He looked the woman over. Strange hair, but he liked it. It was individual. She was sat back, so relaxed, with a posture that didn’t say she didn’t care, yet still said she was chilled; her hand draped over the back of her chair and her foot resting on the knee of her other leg.

  “What did you say your name is again?” Gus asked.

  “Desert.”

  “That’s not a name.”

  Desert sighed.

  “It is. Though I’ve had it for less than a year. I felt like I needed a change of name.”

  “What’s your real name? Why are you pretending to–”

  “Gus, Gus, please, relax. You’re fine, but stressing out ain’t going to do much for your body; you need rest.”

  “I want to know–”

  “And I’m here to tell you. I’m here to tell you everything. Just relax.”

  Gus went to retaliate, then decided against it. She was probably right. It had been a hard few days. Hell, it had been a hard few months. Years, even. And this was the softest mattress he’d ever laid on. He should probably take advantage.

  Desert sat forward, leaning toward him with her hands clasped together.

  “My name used to be Lucy Sanders.”

  “Lucy Sanders…”

  “I used to work for Eugene Squire. I was a receptionist.”

  “I couldn’t see you as a receptionist.”

  “Yeah, I’ve changed a fair bit.” She chuckled. “But I was, suit and everything. Walked around with doormat written on my forehead. Then I found out what they were trying to do.”

  She smiled a knowing smile that drew him in.

  “I was there, Gus. At the beginning. I was there, I saw it.”

  “What? You mean, you know how this all started?”

  She nodded two large triumphant nods.

  “Parliament was wiped out by the infected. I was the one who had to deliver the message to Eugene Squire, not just that they had died, but that he was next in line to be prime minister. He was about thirtieth in line, but that’s what it had come to. I was stupid not to realise – Eugene had engineered it all.”

  “How?”

  “General Boris Hayes. He’d released the strain when Parliament was in session and Eugene was on annual leave with his wife.”

  “He has a wife?”

  “Had a wife. He killed her in front of me.”

  “Jesus…”

  Desert took in a big, deep breath, then let it out. Something told Gus she wasn’t used to telling this story.

  “So why did he do it?” Gus asked.

  “He didn’t mean to create an infection, not at first. They spoke as they… Well, they tried to kill me. From what I gathered, they were trying to create something else, and the infection was just the catalyst. Something that had an ability to run faster, be stronger, but… When he accidentally engineered a virus, he used it to put himself in power, and give him an advantage over other countries.”

  “Other countries?”

  “That bombing on London… I don’t know yet, I’m basing this on assumptions. But I don’t think it was as simple as we think.”

  “I was there. I was there when it was bombed. London was a mess.”

  “It wasn’t bombed by us. We don’t know much, but we know that for sure.”

  Gus tried to take this all in, but only fell further into a migraine. He looked around himself.

  “So what is this place?”

  “An underground bunker used by the AGA. Well, it used to be.”

  “The AGA?”

  “The Anti-Government Alliance. The last line of defence against Eugene Squire. Except…”

  “Except what?”

  “I think you’d better take a look.”

  Desert took a pair of crutches from behind her and offered them to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gus marvelled at the vastness of the place. There was a large, open area that could be filled with tanks, armies, weapons, everything. Except it was empty.

  It was a hollow excitement; such optimism, yet such absence.

  This was such a great base, such a great resource – so where was this AGA? Why weren’t they using it?

  “So. this AGA,” Gus said. “You it?”

  Desert grinned. “That would be disappointing, wouldn’t it? Our only remaining defence, and it was just me?”

  Gus watched her. She was so confident, so supreme, yet, at the same time, alluring. There was something about her that made you want to follow her.

  “Let me introduce you to my crew.”

  Desert opened a door and they entered a canteen. The tables were mostly empty, and there was nobody serving any food – but the central table was full.

  Sadie and Donny sat on one side of the table. Upon seeing Gus, Sadie leapt to her feet, ran toward him and almost knocked him over with her embrace, squeezing him tight.

  “Hey,” Gus managed.

  Gus looked to Donny. They exchanged a look. Donny nodded. Gus returned the mild sentiment.

  “Here’s my crew.” Desert pointed out the two people sat opposite Sadie and Donny. “This is Whizzo.”

  A young lad stopped hoovering down his food long enough to nod at Gus and give him a cheeky smile. The kid held Gus’s focus – he looked far too young to be part of a resistance.

  “You old enough to be in this AGA?”

  “I’m seventeen,” Whizzo pointed out. “And you find me somebody who can do the shit I can do and I’ll happily go to bed.”

  “Whizzo,” Desert said, “is a technical whiz kid – hence the code name. Any contraption, electrical device, engineering, anything – he can sort it. He is right, the shit he can do is amazing.”

  “You know,” Whizzo said, finishing his last few mouthfuls of rice, “I could do something for that, if you want.”

  “For what?”

  “That stump you got there. The missing leg. I’m sure I could fix something up.”

  Gus went to object, claim defensively he didn’t need the kid’s help, then wondered why he was doing that. He’d only been walking around with one leg for a few days and it was already proving tricky enough.

  Still, Gus wasn’t one for handouts.

  “I’ll be fine,” he concluded.

  “And this is Prospero.”

  The older fella next to Whizzo nodded. He had a bushy moustache beneath his lip, was well-built, yet looked considerably older than the other two.

  “Prospero used to be in Hayes’ army.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Not just that,” Prospero declared, his voice suiting his army persona. “I was sergeant in the navy, commander in Iraq, and then – well, you know who I served then.”

  “I get it,” Gus said. “I served too.”

  He turned to Desert, rotating on his crutches with little skill – they were taking some getting used to. And, despite having only just gotten up, he was feeling awfully tired.

  “If this AGA is the last defence, then where is it?” Gus asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for you not shooting us and all that – but where is it?”

  Desert sighed. She exchanged eye contact with her crew. Whizzo shrugged, as if to say, you may as well tell him. Prospero gave her a subtle nod of approval.

  “A few months ago,” Desert explained, “we were in a fight. A big one. Hayes’ army was too much. Most of us got killed. The rest of us… got separated. We ended up here.”

  “And the rest?”

  Desert shrugged. “We’ve been trying to track them, but no luck.”

  “So you have no idea where they are?”

  “
Not exactly.”

  “There’s a base,” Prospero took over. “About twenty, thirty miles from here. It’s our emergency base, where we’re meant to meet should anything go wrong.”

  “So why haven’t you gone there?” Gus enquired.

  Whizzo laughed, then choked on the last bite of his food. “You been outside lately?”

  “Yeah. I have.”

  “Then you know it’s swarming with those things.”

  “But now you’re here,” Desert said. “We have numbers. We have another ex-serviceman. Your friends seem to be useful. Maybe you could help us?”

  “Help you?”

  “It’s our only shot.”

  Gus bowed his head. Hesitated. Looked at his leg. Looked at his crutches.

  “I don’t know,” he spoke, softly and quietly. “I’m not really much of a help nowadays. More of a burden.”

  “Like I said,” Whizzo interrupted, “I could sort something out for–”

  “It don’t matter!” Gus snapped. “I…”

  He could feel tiredness taking over. He was getting lethargic. Quick to bite. He needed rest.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you directing me back to that bed. I’m not feeling too great.”

  Desert exchanged a solemn look with the others, then resigned herself to agreement.

  “Fine. This way.”

  Gus followed her.

  He knew she wanted better news. He knew she probably deserved it. Anyone standing up to Eugene Squire was a friend to him. But he felt useless. Worse than useless. Inept. He wouldn’t just be unable to contribute to their operation; he’d hinder it. They’d have to slow down for him. They’d have to go back and protect him. What could he do with one leg against a horde?

  No. It was sad to admit it, but he had to admit it.

  His life doing the impossible was over now. It was time to retire.

  The Journal of Doctor Janine Stanton

  Day 2

  Transcript from webcam journal by Janine Stanton, second entry

  Transcript from webcam journal by Janine Stanton, second entry

  I had little sleep last night. I don’t know. I guess this is getting to me. It’s tough. I don’t know what I’m doing. Well, I do, it’s just – I don’t know why I’m doing it. And I don’t know what Eugene is going to do with it when it’s done.

  I gave him – the subject, I mean – I gave the subject a second dose:

  35% blood of mutation

  5% blood of infected

  15% blood of infected

  18% ketorolac

  15% cortisone

  12% water

  As you can see, I’ve depleted the content of water significantly. More than half, in fact. And I have increased the blood of mutation by seven percent, but the blood of infected only by two – I am worried that, by giving him blood of infected, it will take over. I am increasing that one warily.

  Yet, he’s not becoming infected. At least not visibly, anyway.

  The rest is working in that respect. But, it just doesn’t – doesn’t do what Eugene wants.

  I made such promises. What if I can’t do it?

  Then again – what if I do?

  (pause)

  I did the check-up on him three hours after administering the dose. Honestly, infected blood acts within a minute, but I left it a length of time, as his own blood may have diluted it, the mutation blood may have diluted it, the painkillers and steroids may have…

  Eyeballs were the same. No excessive dilation. Breathing pattern remained. Heartbeat regular. Well, existent – not like the infected.

  But, he’s not becoming the infected, is he?

  What is he becoming?

  Eugene, if you find this, then…

  Then what?

  What are you–

  (cries)

  Oh, heck. Stop it, Janine. Get over yourself. This is your job.

  Is it?

  My job?

  I mean, don’t people get paid for their – it’s just, I’m here because I’m required, I’m fed, but, I don’t know.

  Should this be my duty?

  But my duty for what! Oh, I’m fed up with just going off on one. I should be focussed on my work, should stop thinking about what I’m doing, why I’m doing it – I’m doing it for the government, so surely, surely, there’s got to be good reason?

  But if there’s good reason, why do I feel like I’m here against my will?

  (pause)

  Subject isn’t reacting. But he is still. So, so still. Like, his finger occasionally twitches, but that’s it. His eyes focus on a point in the room. Beside that, sometimes, you wouldn’t even know he’s breathing, except for the occasional cough, and even then, I have to look twice to check I did actually hear a cough.

  What did Doctor Emma Saul do to him?

  I’d love to read her notes. I’m told they are classified.

  Classified.

  (shakes head)

  But why would they have classified actions of a conditioning expert, if they weren’t conditioning him to – I don’t know. What? Be more placid? Be unreactive, passive, uncaring? He doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. What could they possibly have done?

  I bet Pavlov and his dogs would kick themselves if they knew his work was being used for something like this.

  But something like what?

  Urgh, stop it.

  (long pause)

  I slept at my desk last night. He was awake when I fell asleep, I remember that, and then, when I woke up – he was still awake. But he wasn’t even watching me. I just couldn’t believe I fell asleep in the room, I – he didn’t even seem to have noticed.

  Does he even sleep?

  (sighs)

  I just want to go home. I want to get this over with.

  This afternoon I am preparing the dose for tomorrow, and, I – I’m going to take a risk. Up the blood of the infected. See if that does anything. If it takes over, then, well, at least I know he won’t end up as they want him to. He’ll be saved from that.

  We’ll all be saved from that.

  32 Hours to Trap

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gus was awoken by giggling. Childish, infantile giggling. He instantly felt irritable. Perturbed. Annoyed. What was going on? Who was disturbing his sleep? Didn’t anyone tell them to let sleeping bastards lie?

  “What is going on?” Gus demanded, his voice gruff.

  The giggling continued.

  “What is it?”

  Gus leant up, and all around him, they stood. Sadie, Donny, Whizzo, Prospero, and Desert. They were all in fits of excitable chuckles; except Donny, who stood their impartially numb, as seemed to be his regular stance.

  “What do you want!” Gus persisted. “Why the hell are you wrecking my sleep?”

  They looked to each other. Exchanged smiles.

  What the hell were they smiling about?

  “He’s not even noticed,” Desert pointed out, like they were all part of some secret society that Gus wasn’t privy to. “I can’t believe he’s not even noticed. How does he not feel that?”

  “Not feel what? What the hell have you done!”

  Whizzo playfully raised his hand with a cheeky grin.

  “I’ll have to take credit for it,” Whizzo said, then raised his hands to the side, as if to say, couldn’t help it. “Why don’t you check it out?”

  Gus leant up. Now he was getting pissed.

  “Check what out? Why are you in here? What are you on about?”

  “I said I’d make you one,” Whizzo said, pointing downwards.

  Gus leant up and looked down.

  Oh, Jesus.

  He didn’t know what to say. What to think.

  Anger for the pertinence? Annoyance for the audacity? Or sheer appreciation for the effort?

  He turned and placed his new prosthetic leg on the ground. It wasn’t what he expected a prosthetic leg to look like. In fact, it looked nothing like a leg. It was a curved piece of metal
upon a spring, somehow stuck to him.

  He tugged on it.

  “How do you get it off?” Gus barked.

  “You’d have to detach it from the bone,” Whizzo replied.

  “You what!”

  “Gus,” Desert interjected, “before you jump down his throat for trying to help you, why don’t you check it out, yeah? Then, if you’re pissed, you can say.”

  Gus shook his head. He was fuming. A boiling kettle ready to overflow.

  He stood, ready to go for them – then paused.

  He balanced. Easily. More easily than he’d expected.

  The spring gave a nice response to the floor, hard enough so as not to give way, but soft enough to react to his movement.

  Gus looked to the others. He did not know what to think. His anger was quickly fading, but he wanted to hold onto it, remain stubborn in his ways.

  Yet, at the same time, he was astonished. This could change everything.

  “It has six strong spring clamps with metal springs,” Whizzo explained, “with titanium metal beneath a coating of stainless steel and chromium, to unsure it doesn’t rust. The thing is practically faultless.”

  “Why don’t you try it out?” Desert prompted.

  Gus took a few steps. He had a slight limp, but it worked. He could walk again. On his own accord.

  “I didn’t mean in here,” Desert said. “I meant out there.”

  The open room. With the vast amount of space.

  But what if he fell? What if he landed flat on his arse and looked like a complete fool?

  “It’ll be difficult at first,” Whizzo pointed out. “But once you’ve got your handle on it, you’ll barely even notice.”

  “Honestly, he’s been working on it all night. Just go have a run. We won’t laugh.”

  With a glance of trepidation their way, he edged toward the door. He looked back at Sadie, who smiled excitedly.

  He left the confines of the bedroom and entered the open space. Stood, viewing the vast emptiness he had to run into. He felt nervous. Why? It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d ever walked. Except, in a way, it was; it was like he was exploring the world all over again.