Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

  'Daft git fell through the wall at the end of Corridor D, straight into the arms of a Infected. Dumb shit screamed like a girl, arms going all directions bawling like a newborn, ahhhh get it off me get it off.'

  Clarkenwell chuckled as he re-enacted Davies panicked thrashings.

  Davies shoved his mate between the shoulders sending him sprawling on to his face.

  'Yeah yeah, conveniently forgot to tell them, you're the one who shoved me through it, ya Prick.'

  Clarkenwell picked himself up and laughed, rejoining the group, Hooper turned to see Collins and Roberts exit the building two minutes later.

  'Oi oi here come the puddle pirates, how did our two Soggy Bollocks Squad brothers do then.'

  Collins flipped them off gaining raucous laughter in response, 'Not bad, bit bored towards the end though; what about you lot?' Roberts quizzed the four SAS men, 'same here, although Davies here took a side trip', Roberts cocked an eyebrow at the statement. 'through a wall.'

  Both SBS men cracked a grin ambling over to stand with the rest of group. Hamilton and Jones watched the group as they drew closer to the others, a sharp cry of indignant disgust caused all to turn and face them.

  'Fuck me, what is that smell?'

  Hamilton blushed a slightly pinkish hue as he looked down at himself, 'ugh that would be me, Infected kinda went pop when Jones slotted it, must have been a bit over ripe, sorry.'

  'Don't apologise Hamilton, sign of weakness, at least that's what I was told.' The twelve men looked up to see Staff Sergeant Baker and Sergeant Kingsley walking towards them, pint glasses held in their hands.

  'I think, and correct me if I am wrong Mister Kingsley that all these men have done extremely well, if not a bit too relaxed in some cases.'

  Baker looked pointedly in the direction of the special operations soldiers, then grinned setting his glass down on the drill square's grit laden surface.

  'Well,' he smiled as he clapped his hands together, 'we have a soft session next. If you would kindly make your way to classroom D in the block to my left, we will run through some of the more clinical aspects of our job here. Then it will be on to phase two.'

  Baker almost retched as Hamilton passed within a few feet of him. 'Hamilton not to close mate, jeez that stinks. Showers are that way, head there first and incinerate the clothes when you're done, we'll furnish new civvies for you.'

  ****

  Baker stood in front of the gathered men as they relaxed in the chairs dotted about the room.

  'Okay lads, time to get down to the science of our vocation. A few years ago when Broadhead was still very much a fledgling unit a situation arose. We were first officially tasked with the capture and elimination of high ranking terrorists in Iraq and Afghanistan, although this was just a smoke screen for the press; not that we didn't actually do the job, it just wasn't that high on our list of priorities.'

  Several of the men looked severely puzzled at Baker's words, ignoring the questioning glances, he ploughed on.

  'The pathogen, that we have simply termed “The Virus,” not very creative I know but it suits our purposes, first reached our ears in early two thousand, a mystery plague was sweeping through northern Asia and was quickly spreading down through eastern and western Asia and most of the Middle East. So we went in to try and back track it to the source; it turns out our Russian counterparts were doing the same thing with the Americans carrying on through more covert channels.'

  Baker stopped and picked up a glass of water buying himself a few seconds to reorganise his thoughts as he drank.

  'Well you have all probably heard from one person or another of the incident in the Abu Naji base back in 2001.'

  Most of the men in front of him nodded their ascent while others looked more than a little puzzled.

  'That was when we were officially called in and sanctioned, before that we had been hopping from zone to zone inspecting and eliminating all that showed signs of the infection. Anyway to cut a long story short, we ended up in Russia at a deep research facility they had set up to investigate the effects of the pathogen on the human body. The head of the department was a doctor called Anastasia Stanislova, a brilliant biochemist and biological researcher, who through more luck than judgement ended up being one of the people we pulled out of the Russian facility.'

  Baker once more reached for the glass and drank a small mouthful letting the cold liquid wash away anything that had been worming its way to the surface.

  'Well; it's her research into this virus that has granted us a small measure of understanding as to what we are up against.'

  Baker pulled a small remote from his pocket and strode to the back of the class room as Kingsley killed the lights. A soft whirring filled the room as Davies, Sharp and all the other recruits focused their attention on the screen ahead of them.

  'What you see here are several images drawn from Doctor Stanislova's files, we have gone through them and checked and re-checked everything against our own studies and field notes and can find nothing, that disparages, or disproves, anything she has thus far found.'

  Baker clicked a button pulling up another image.

  'This is a digital shot of a test subject's blood work, below it is a non Infected sample, what is the first thing you notice'

  Davies was the first to speak as he studied the image.

  'For one boss the small black, parasite things attached to the red cells, and another would be the disproportionate number of platelets in the Infected sample.'

  Baker smiled pleased with the fast uptake of the soldier before him. A murmur of agreement ran through them all as Baker changed the image.

  'This is a sample given to us from an incident in Africa two years ago, what's changed.' Davies and every one stayed mute unable to comprehend what was before them. 'Thought that would throw you off, and before you ask yes that is human blood, well it was any way.'

  The image before them was a mass of Black and green cells the parasitic organisms floating freely latching onto everything in their path. Davies watched fascinated as the microscopic parasites moved through the cell walls like a finger through wet rice paper.

  'We were lucky here; the sample was obtained by the second Broadhead team and a small contingent of American agents from Division Thirty-Six. What you're watching is a live feed from the research department, the particles floating in the blood seem to be something akin to a parasite and thus far all attempts at eradicating it have failed. They latch on to the host's red cells and use them as a transport system to ferry them through the host's body. They infect everything from the internal organs and the cardiovascular system right through to the cerebral system and even basic motor skills; only cure we have found so far is a bullet to the head and a bath in white phosphorus or carbolic acid.'

  Davies turned in his chair glancing over the back of it at Baker.

  'But why the change in the cell colour'

  Baker smiled as he clicked forwards and pulled up an image of Stanislova's research notes.

  'Seems the good Doctor thought of that when we showed her the sample a few months back, she thinks that the parasite or what ever the hell it is multiplies inside the cells killing them in the process. She also found them prevalent in every other bodily fluid she tested from saliva to semen. Seems that as long as it's liquid and has a living cellular structure they can live in it.'

  Sharp spoke up for the first time since the lesson had begun.

  'But wouldn't that eventually eliminate the host?'

  Baker nodded subconsciously before replying.

  'Yeah it would, and unfortunately for the person Infected it does, although it varies from person to person. My American contacts have been conducting tests of their own although they won't tell me what they have found explicitly; they have indicated that an Infected can last from a few hours to upwards of several years if the host has A) enough food available and B) a strong enough immune system and constitution.'

  The room fell silent once more, the whirring
of the machine pervading everything as they all digested the information being given to them. Mariani was the first to break the settled silence making more than one member jump at the sudden intrusion.

  'So there is no cure what so ever?'

  Baker's eyes dimmed slightly as he heard the question.

  'No, none.'

  Mariani nodded as he turned back to the note pad resting on his knee and carried on writing.

  15

  The Village

  'You will all be dropped by helicopter into a small village not far from here with nothing more than a set of fatigues, boots, a knife of your choice, one hundred rounds of ammunition in thirteen round magazines and a Browning automatic pistol.

  'Your task is to survive three full days in the town, there are a total of one thousand three hundred and fifty Infected spread throughout the area, again they are toothless but unlike the previous exercise their hands are not bound; also a point to note is, that you will be dealing with several stages of Infected. I am permitted to tell you that the newer Infected are faster stronger and more agile than the older ones. Several have shown high levels of cognitive processes so keep the doors locked lads, they may be dying but they are not stupid; well most of them aren't.'

  Baker watched them intently as they mulled over the implications, the nagging sensation was cutting a path through his skull with full force as he watched an extremely unnerving grin bloom over Sharp's features. Shaking the feeling of unease off he carried on talking, his gaze bounced from each man as he clapped his hands together to gain their undivided attention.

  'How you play this is up to you; you will be inoculated when you receive your kit. The jabs will cover any and all diseases that could possibly be present in the operational area, but remember; we cannot vaccinate against the Infected themselves. So, please be careful won't you; I can do without the paper work.'

  The men all laughed as Baker stopped for effect, he watched as Sharp raised a hand to catch his attention.

  'Staff, what about water, food and all that, I know you won't starve to death in three days but we need at least the basic ration allotment to stay battle worthy, that's S.O.P for rapid drop ops.' Baker nodded, 'I fully agree don't get me wrong, but this is designed to test you in a full fight or flight survival situation using only what you theoretically could scrounge up from say police stations, abandoned barracks etc, all food and water is to be secured on site, this is not a fully fledged military deployment simulation.'

  Sharp shrugged in response, 'Okay then, just thought I'd ask.'

  Turning his gaze back to the group Baker cocked an eyebrow a he fired off the most telling question he would ask them during their career with Broadhead.

  'So whose in?'

  Baker glanced around at the men gathered together; no one said a word as he looked over the faces in front of him, then as one they stepped forward. A grin unfurled across his features as he looked on, nodding he spoke once more. 'Okay; gather your kit.'

  They turned heading off in the direction Baker indicated; as the group walked away Baker turned to Kingsley again.

  'Who's going in on watcher with this lot?'

  Kingsley pulled a fifty pence piece from his pocket, 'Heads or Tails' he asked as he flipped the coin into the air then caught it slapping it down on the back of his left hand. 'Heads', Baker said as Kingsley pulled his hand away.

  'Sorry mate, your turn.'

  Baker cursed as he stared at the tails side of the coin.

  'See you in three days.'

  Baker grumbled at Kingsley's grinning face as he walked off after the slowly disappearing trainees.

  ****

  Woodwrow and the other five Paratroopers stood in the bay of the C130J 'Super' Hercules. Air seething over its fuselage as it sailed over the rolling English countryside on its way to their drop site. The Load Master stood in the bay watching the twin lights above his head intently. His gaze never wavered as he waited for them to go from red to green, the men behind him slowly walked to their designated spots, their jump gear shifting as they moved.

  Standing there, they checked their helmets were securely fitted before helping the man in front check their kit over. The heavy rasping of straps being pulled tight filled the hold as their harnesses were secured. Woodwrow looked up as the Load Master rotated his hand through the air in a circular motion, nodding he began the slow march forwards opening the rear cargo bay door.

  The pressure shift made their ears pop as the cargo bay was vented, stepping into a half trot, Woodwrow led the team forward, jumping into the waiting arms of the sky as one by one they launched themselves out of the back of the aircraft; floating like leaves on a breeze they disappeared into the wide blue yonder that awaited them.

  The Automatic Activation Device on their parachutes slowly ticked down as they made their way rapidly towards the up rushing ground. A patchwork of fields and lanes passed by as they shot towards their target, the village nestling safely in the folds of the land like a cotton topped button in a quilt.

  Streamlining his body, Woodwrow shot toward the ground as he read the ticking numbers of A.A.D. flashing up in his heads up display. Throwing out his arms and legs he shifted his weight and slowed his descent. The sleeves of his shirt and trousers snapping in the air as it buffeted his form. A sharp beep echoed in his ears as his Parachute opened, snapping taut against his harness-covered body, the sudden deceleration leaving his suspended in mid air as the rooftop loomed large in his vision.

  ****

  Ropes spooled from the helicopters slapping down on the concrete pavement below, the men fanned out, scrambling to the nearest concealed position. Raising his hand; index and middle finger pointed Sharp motioned to Davies and Clarkenwell sending them into a small post office on the corner of the street. Then he stood signalling to Hooper as he moved, both men scurried in a low crouch to the adjacent corner, knees scraping on concrete as the dropped to the floor. Sharp looked on from where he was hunkered down just inside the building's doorway and watched their fellow team mates clear the ground floor of the post office.

  Davies leant out the door, and signalled the others to move into the now secured the ground floor. Sharp looked around him, taking stock of the men he had available. 'Right, I want to sort one thing out here, and that's who is in charge for the three days we are out here. What ranks we got amongst us, if you're a Corporal raise your hand, I know this is a kiddies way of doing things but it's quickest.'

  Sharp watched as Riley, Baxter, Hamilton, Jones, Mariani, Roberts, and Collins all raised their hands. Sighing he knew where this was heading, 'Okay lads you're out, sorry.' The seven men just shrugged, secretly glad to be out of the running for leadership, none of them wanted the hassle. Looking around him he stared into the faces of remaining three men, 'We're all sergeants aren't we?' he got a collective nod, confirming his guess. 'Bollocks.'

  He scratched at the back of his neck as an inexplicable itch started niggling at the base of his skull. 'Right...okay, do this the simpler way, any one got a problem taking orders off me?'

  He already knew the answer he would get from Hooper. Davies and Clarkenwell, although SAS were from A troop, so he had no idea of their attitude towards him, all he saw were gestures confirming no one did.

  'Okay, that's that sorted, dunno why I didn't just ask in the first place.' Running his hand over his shaved head he breathed out through his nose. He glanced at Fisher who through it all had stood silent.

  'Hey, Fisher ain't it?' The man nodded. 'What rank are you?' a questioning look passed over his face.

  'I am a lance jack,' he said slightly embarrassed, at being the only Lance Corporal in the unit, Sharp clapped a hand on to his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. 'Don't worry about it lad. Davies, I want you, Clarkenwell, and you two Commandos,' he snapped his fingers as he sought out their names, 'Riley and Baxter ain't it?' Both men nodded as he looked at them. 'Right, I want you four to sit tight here and keep watch, two behind the counter, one on the door and o
ne in the window. Keep hidden but, well screw it you know what to do I ain't teaching you to suck eggs, just do it.'

  Looking round him he motioned to the remaining seven men. 'Rest of you on me, we're clearing the remainder of the building.'

  ****

  Belinson watched the six men spill out the plane's rear hatch like coins out a jar, glancing at his wrist he watched the chronometer synchronised to the one the team leader wore tick down rapidly. He smiled lightly as the parachutes below him bloomed open like six spring roses.

  'Well, good luck lads, you're going to need it.'

  The six paratroopers were jerked to a stop as their parachutes opened, leaving them floating in the open air. They felt weightless as they hung from the nylon ropes of their open canopys, the only thing that broke the sensation was the heavy tugging at their legs and torso, the straps of the harness biting into the soft skin of their thighs and underarms.

  The men drifted downwards, the toggles of their parachutes gripped tightly in their fists, as they guided themselves on to the designated landing zone, the stark white circle of sprayed paint showing up brightly against the gravel covered roof.

  Glancing down, all six men pulled on the right toggle and banked in a slow, deep arc; heading for a large flat-roofed building below them. Baker glanced up at the sky, he could just make out the six man shaped silhouettes slowly falling from above.

  'Well here comes the cavalry.'

  He muttered as he bit down on a cheese burger he had bought on his way to the village, the camouflaged netting flapping against the poles of the hide as he silently watched the six men land.

  One after the other they touched down on the roof, feet skimming the surface before they tucked into a roll. Gravel skittering across the rooftop as they rolled, bodies scraping against the tar-covered lining. Then one-by-one, they began rising to their feet, scrambling in a flail of limbs as they started to frantically drag in their parachutes. Within ninety seconds all six men were formed up in two ranks in front of Derek. Baker smiled nodding in appreciation, although he remained sat on the small camping chair he had brought with him.