Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

  'All clear, whirly bird's on station, moving off to standby location. That would leave us a three minute window from call to pick up.'

  Carl nodded mutely as he set his auto pick into the door lock and squeezed the pump trigger rapidly, a harsh crunch of metal slithered out of the lock. Smiling he pulled the steel rod from the lock and slipped it back into the utility pouch on his thigh.

  'Right in fast and get those fucker's out.'

  Grasping the handle he watched from the corners of his eyes as the rest of the team stacked up either side of the door. With a silent prayer to whomever was listening, he did what every point man since the dawn of modern warfare dreaded, and opened the door.

  11

  London, Gatwick, United Kingdom, 2005

  Derek sat staring out the window of the British Airways long haul flight as it soared over the Atlantic toward the British Isles. He rested his chin on his hand, his eyes stung as he stared through the Perspex window. He hadn't slept the entire flight, his eyes were sore to the point of bleeding, or at least his sleep deprived mind told him they were. He gazed through the plastic window as the bloodshot red orbs stared back at him.

  From the dull reflection, he could see the thin lines marking them out to be as raw and tired as he thought they were. Blinking he grimaced at the sandpaper like texture of his dried out eyelids scraping over the translucent balls of his eyes.

  Sighing he turned and watched as the Irish coast disappeared under the plane's wing. In his life, he had let too much slip away because of his career and he was damned if he was going to let the one thing that made living his priority, dance from his reach. He sat there staring, his mind tumbling through the vacuous vortex that had formed inside his skull. He smiled thoughts of her, the one person who had made resisting despair and failure his driving force. He knew she had been the only thing that had kept him alive, even when he had felt the cold kiss of Death's scythe only millimetres from his neck.

  Landing at Gatwick, he made his way through security to the luggage claim and soon, much to his amazement found himself, standing on the forecourt waiting to be picked up before he really registered fully what he was doing. Flipping open his outdated mobile, he tried to call her as a sense of trepidation and excitement roiled within him. It was soon quashed when all he got was a monotone beep and nothing more. Cursing himself for not re-registering for UK calling he walked to the payphones outside of the terminal building and punched in her number from memory.

  He listened as the phone rang and rang. A deep foreboding welled up inside him, only to be viciously stomped and crushed back down to where it belonged. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime he heard her pick up.

  `Hello, this is Janet Williams who's this?' Her soft, sleep drenched voice washed his mind clean, any thoughts of structured conversation falling into the chasm of dead space that currently passed itself off as his brain. He stood there silent for a few seconds his mind whirling.

  'Uh, hi Janet it's uh me, Derek.'

  Mentally he kicked himself, grimacing at the limp and lacklustre reply his mind had conjured up. His smile grew into a grin as he imagined her lying in bed, her hair flowing across the satin sheets he knew she would have as she held the phone in her slim grasp, the speaker pressed to her ear.

  His mind drew him deeper as his vision danced across the soft curves of her cheek and chin to rest upon the pale pink lips he so longed to caress with his own. He suppressed a chuckle as he envisioned Janet's wide eyed look of surprise. 'Hi baby, how are you doing, what made you decide to call? Beside what time is it, its got to be at least three in the morning there.'

  Derek grinned to himself as he listened to her spiralling tumult of words and the scrape of her alarm clock being lifted from its spot on her bedside cabinet. He didn't say a word as he let it all slip past him, waiting patiently for the torrent of questions to stop before replying.

  Derek glanced at his watch. 'No, its a little after nine, babe. I'm good; tired but good.'

  He could almost hear Janet's eyes narrow in suspicion as she spoke, 'Where are you, Derek?'

  'Gatwick,' he replied with a casual simplicity, suppressing a creeping shadow of a smile as he spoke. He dragged the phone away from his head as a wave of girlish squeals and exclamations assaulted his ear, he listened as she picked the phone back up and spoke, her voice fluttering as she fought to control her breathing.

  'Give me two hours and I'll be there, don't move. No, wait; go to the Irish pub on the far side of the passenger waiting area and wait for me there.' In another burst of giggles she hung up, leaving a confused but grinning Derek standing there with the now dead phone receiver in his hand.

  Latching the receiver back onto the cradle, he picked up his old drum bag and walked back into the terminal building towards the pub.

  Janet pulled up outside the terminal, hopped out of her Ford KA and practically floated through the terminal to where Derek waited, she walked into the bar area and as quietly as she could made her way up behind him. Just as her arms came level to his neck he spun on the stool and dragged her into his arms, his muscular, trunk like arms encircled her waist as he pulled her into a overtly passionate kiss.

  Janet all but forced her way out of his grasp, a shy grin on her face as she tried to hide the tears in her eyes. 'What happened soldier, miss me, I thought big tough Marines like you didn't miss any one, except the target any way.' The quivering in her voice was hard to miss despite how hard she fought to keep it steady.

  Derek grinned at her, clasping her round the hips and pulling her close to him again. 'God I missed you.' He buried his face in her hair as he felt her chest heave against him, the hot trail of warmth rolling its way down his neck as she finally lost the battle against the need to cry.

  Derek stroked his finger through her hair as he gently levered her away from him. 'I ain't a Marine anymore.' A glimmer of sadness echoed behind his eyes as he spoke those six short words.

  'It was the only way they would let me over here.' He subconsciously winced as he actively lied to the woman he loved, burying the guilt deep in his gut he ploughed onwards with the half-truth that he was weaving. Closing his eyes he suppressed the desire to spill out the truth, he knew it would tumble out eventually, but for now he had to keep up the charade.

  'It was you or the service, they gave me a choice, early discharge with no chance of re-enlistment or redeployment to a zone of their choosing. Guess which I chose?'

  Janet shook her head, twin trails running down her face as she cupped his with her hands, her thumbs gently stroking down his cheeks.

  'Idiot, all you had to do was ask and I would have transferred to you. Why did you give up all that for me?'

  Derek's face split into a childish grin as he stared down at the woman resting against his chest, her arms snaking round his waist. 'Why else, I am a hopeless romantic, and well I......'

  He trailed off, not knowing whether or not to go through with what he was about to say. Janet looked up at him curiously, 'what?' she questioned as she ran her hand down his cheek and across his chin, latching hold of it bringing his face to the same level as hers, 'what is it?'

  'I well, I guess I.'

  He never got a chance to finish his sentence as the whole airport erupted into terror filled screams of pain. Derek stared as Janet was ripped from his grasp, a dead weight slammed into his unprepared side driving all the air from his lungs as he was barrelled over sideways; turning sharply he gazed up into a slathering blood drenched maw as it descended, the jaws opened and closed rapidly snapping at his face.

  The stench of death and blood filled Derek's nostrils as he fought against the thing above him; images dancing through his head. Dark dripping corridors filled with death, the smell of warm blood slopping around his boots and above all the memory of that ever present, soul chilling moan.

  He was snapped from his reverie by the wailing scream of a woman in the steel like grip of sheer terror, driving his fist up into its wind pipe Derek was rewar
ded with a satisfying crunch as the cartilage collapsed under the impact, but this did little to stop the thing above him as it tried to tear out his throat.

  Snapping both hands up, he grasped either side of its head and with a vicious twist snapped its neck. Pushing the limp lump of flesh off him he threw the body aside and clambered to his feet.

  He looked down at the corpse on the floor, pieces of flesh were torn away hanging in limp flapping lumps from it's body, moving up he attempted to ascertain an I.D. of the person, his hands moving of their own volition as he patted down the cold lump of mangled flesh. All thoughts of curiosity were driven from his mind as he heard her wailing screams of anguish, leaping to his feet Derek threw himself bodily through the air slamming into the Infected pinning Janet to the floor.

  Landing in a tangle of limbs, grabbing the Infected by the head he twisted and yanked. The vomit inducing crunch of shattering cartilage did nothing more than satisfy him that for now it was indeed out of the game, Derek twisted further almost ripping it's head off in his haste to get back to the woman he loved.

  He stumbled towards Janet's unmoving form, fear and terror coursed through him in equal measure as he dropped to his knees and lifted her into his arms. 'Janet, baby, you're okay, you're going to be okay, dammit girl what the fucks going on. Please be okay, you got to.' He smoothed out the tangled hair slowly congealing from the blood staining his hands. With softness not often shown Derek, brushed the stray locks from her face as he cradled the limp form of his lover and best friend against him. He sat there for several minutes rocking back and forth holding her in his arms, her heart softly thumping against him as he held her tightly to his shaking form.

  When she finally stirred, joy coursed through his body, her head lifted as she raised her hand and grasped the back of his neck, 'God am I glad you're okay' was all he managed to choke out before her lips made contact with his neck and her teeth clamped down, tearing her head away he watched in numb shock as she chewed and swallowed, his blood running down her chin.

  'Why Janet, why' was all he had time to think before he finally faded to nothing.

  12

  Baker residence.

  North East London

  Derek jerked awake gasping for air, the sheets around him soaked in sweat, dragging his hands over his face he tried to force the images away as tears of terror rolled down his face. His arm snapped out grasping in the darkness for his mobile phone. Dragging his thumb across the keys he pulled the calendar up staring blearily at the date.

  'Thank Christ.' he muttered as he saw the date staring back at him from the screen of his phone. The glaring white light of his phone's screen sending the image clear into his eyes, January sixteenth two thousand and eleven.

  Closing the phone he set it aside as he glanced at the clock, 1:33am, he winced as he glanced over at his wife. Janet stirred and sat up disturbed by the sudden movement of her husband.

  'Derek, darling what's wrong, was it the nightmares again?'

  He mutely nodded to her as he felt her soft warming arms slide round his waist as she leant against him shushing him softly.

  'Which one's?'

  He stirred in her grasp, as he wove her fingers into his. Janet moved turning in the sheets and leant against him.

  'All of them.'

  His gruff baritone rumbling from deep within him as he quietly replied.

  'Baby, it's only a dream, nothing is going to happen to us. You and your boys make sure of that, you know better than anyone it's not going to happen here.'

  Derek leant back against her gently 'I know, I know, but I cant help thinking that something is going to happen and soon, look what happened to the States. It's a freaking war zone over there, worse than Afghanistan or Iraq ever was. I just pray Carl and the rest of those crazy bastards are okay, I've tried to get in touch with them, get them to R.T.B but nothing.

  Crazy git is probably off fighting the whole thing single handed. Then there was what happened when I got back from the Stan after sorting out the situation with the Russians; I came so close to losing you Janet, I can't go through that again, if it wasn't for Carl's team being on standby when I landed I don't know what would have happened. He saved my arse in Russia and again over here, I can't be that lucky three times in a row.'

  Derek glanced back at her and smiled.

  'Did I ever tell you how I met him?'

  Janet nodded in confirmation of his question.

  'Yes baby you did.' She looked at him warmly, in the way only a wife can, lovingly telling him to shut up and go back to sleep. She rolled away from him pulling the sheets back over her as Derek lay back down. 'Okay.' Sighing he tried to drift back off to sleep, 'Night darling.'

  His voice hushed almost a whisper as waves of tiredness crashed down on him once more. Snaking his hand across the bed he intertwined his fingers through Janet's, as he finally sank into a deep dreamless sleep.

  They woke mere minutes apart. Derek already awake and preparing his uniform as Janet, bleary eyed and tousle haired walked through to the kitchen her Silk robe tied at her waist, leaving very little to the imagination. She watched the coffee brew as Derek busied himself in the shower. Derek strolled into the kitchen drying his head as she began to pour.

  His bare hairless head was still a slightly pinkish hue from the heat of the water. He let the towel hang around his neck as he took the cup she offered and sat down.

  Unfolding the Daily Telegraph that she had placed in front of him he glanced up at her elfin face and smiled before picking up the still steaming cup of smooth, black, coffee. He sipped tentatively at the hot tar coloured brew before asking the same question he did every morning he was home.

  'You on shift tonight?'

  Janet nodded in reply as she buttered a slice of toast.

  'Yeah, don't know when I finish, could be a long one, what about you, did they approve your request for leave?'

  He looked up at her, and grinned.

  'Nope, I dropped the request when I heard Colinson talking about a bus load of new meat coming in. Should be fun, although I'll be gone for a while training the poor fuckers.'

  She sighed at that, grimacing slightly at his choice of words as she lifted the toast to her mouth and bit down. He enjoyed his job and that was good. Janet had told herself the same thing every morning for the past four years. She sighed mentally and ruminated on the thoughts dancing through her head.

  Despite this, it was impossible to not sometimes think that he loved the work more than her. She continued to chew on the toast as they slipped into a comfortable silence. Looking up, she smiled breaking the silence between them.

  'Babe how did you get into the unit anyway?'

  Derek folded the paper with a sigh, he knew this question was coming and although he had formulated a reply long ago he was still caught slightly off guard.

  'Well me, Kingsley, Rawlings and Bolton are the only ones qualified to deal with this particular crisis, no one else in the service has had the same exposure as me and my team, so it doesn't leave them with a lot of options. We took a pounding in Afghanistan and Russia; but honestly, I have no real answer other than, they picked me; and that's all I can really say, no more, no less.'

  Janet nodded thoughtfully as his words lingered between them, Baker sensing her willingness to hear more carried on.

  'That and the fact that the rest of Broadhead were,' he paused, the taste of his next word hanging bitter and foul on his palate, 'killed.'

  Nodding in understanding she smiled as she replied trying to alleviate some of the guilt she saw dancing behind her husband's eyes.

  'I guess that didn't leave them much choice then, although I know they couldn't have picked anyone better.'

  Janet stood and walked past him, the tears in her eyes feeling hot and heavy, she sensed Derek's questioning gaze. Leaning in she slowly eased past the painful memories of his tear soaked phone calls, and the weeks of waiting for that one call every family or spouse dreads.

  Cuppi
ng his chin gently she kissed his forehead, 'Love you to huni,' was all he said as she moved off into their bedroom. With a deep drawn out sigh he stood and made his way into the only room in their house that was solely his, to get prepared for the day's trials.

  Glancing down the hallway, he watched Janet's lithe form as she slipped into their bedroom; resting his hand on the door frame he sagged, the burden he carried weighing on him more than usual. He bit his lip, tasting blood on his tongue as he fought with himself and the thought of knowing that this was one more day where the promise he had made so long ago was damaged just that little bit more. Bitterly, he bit down his self disgust and prayed that it was going to be worth it.

  13

  Broadhead barracks.

  United Kingdom.

  January sixteenth. 2011.

  Standing in front of the eighteen prospective recruits, Baker cast a scrutinising gaze over them. His eyes danced from one to the next, fighting his urge to smile as he took in the view before him.

  They stood there, plain clothed and relaxed; none, showing a single trace of trepidation, he laughed softly to himself before speaking.

  'Okay you sorry mother fuckers, who of you thinks you have what it takes to join this unit.'

  He was answered by a collective call from all eighteen men their bellowing voices echoing off the buildings around them; making Baker grin.

  'Well I just don't see it. All I see is a bunch of piss ass nancy boys who think they can play soldier. My job is to decide which of you little shits get to go through and play with the big boys.'

  Baker glanced down at the clip board he had in his hand. 'Right, okay,' he mumbled to himself as he glanced back up at the men who stood to attention in their ranks of nine, 'I want, Clarkson, Sheperd, Woodwrow, Williams, Brooks and Kerr. You six here now.'

  As the men filed out he screamed at them watching as they sprinted into two rows of three.