Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

Gregory Jefferson or Dictator as he was known, was a Scottish born British Marine and leader of Unit Templar, Team 1 of Broadhead. He strode through the doorway and into the recreation room where his team was currently enjoying the little down time they were afforded.

  'Okay you bunch of pansys time to go to work. Africa's calling and we are footing the bill on this one. Wheels up in forty.'

  'What's the situation?'

  Lewis Peppard, nicknamed Titan for his over average height of almost seven feet, queried from his position at the pool table. Dropping his head down, he lined up the cue on the white ball as he spoke. The clacking of the cue ball against the nine-ball punctuated his words, he watched as the coloured sphere rolled rapidly across the table to sink cleanly into the top left corner pocket.

  'It seems to be a class two outbreak. Basically Titan, the shit has hit the fan and we have to clean it up.'

  Nodding in acquiescence, the explanation seemed to placate the six-foot ten-inch tall soldier, Titan shrugged and carried on with his pool game.

  'So Wolf what do you reckon about this?'

  The man opposite Titan glanced up and grinned, before dropping his gaze back to the ball in front of him.

  'I reckon, that as long as I get to kill something, I don't really give a shit.'

  The East Londoner drawled, his common tongue twisting the words as he spoke. Every man present, knew, just how unstable Kevin Chambers, or Wolf as he liked to be known, was.

  He was all to prone to rash action and sporadic bouts of violent anger that were triggered by the slightest incident, three weeks prior he had spent a four-week-stint in the base's gaol, for an unprovoked brawl with another soldier, that had left the unfortunate squaddie confined to the base infirmary for over a month.

  A chuckle ran through the room, as the rest of the team stood and moved off filing out the room towards the Quartermaster's stores.

  20

  Lunda Norte Province.

  Fucauma Diamond Mine: Angola 14:30 local time

  Division Thirty-Six's Alpha team crept silently through the darkness, the mine tunnels swirling and twisting before them as they padded their way through on soft-soled boots. They had been dropped in from a UH-60L Black Hawk only minutes earlier, by fast rope descent through an open air-ventilation-shaft.

  Stepping forwards his suppressed MK 12 model 0 pulled tight into his shoulder, Rook slowly scanned the area in front of him.

  The tunnel ahead swam in a sea of greens and greys as he stared down the night-vision-scope of his rifle. Raising his hand, he motioned slowly to the others as he moved forwards. The five man team moved with practised ease down the tunnel scanning every hole, crevice and gap in the tunnel walls, floor or ceiling as they went.

  Rook held his hand up fist closed tight the other four men instantly falling to one knee silent and ever watchful.

  'Crow on me, rest of you sit tight and stay frosty.'

  'Roger that, careful Rook, Mother Hen said something about this being a sixer, so watch your back.'

  Raven pressed his index finger to his ear as he spoke, his Texan drawl muddling his words slightly.

  'Hang on incoming call.'

  Raven cringed, his shaven head shinning in the glow of Crow's night vision goggles.

  'We're gonna have company soon, Brits are sending in an S.A.U team from Broadhead code named Templar, headed by your old mate.'

  Rook ran his hand over his face.

  'Don't tell me it's Dictator, I hate that guy, God damned Scottish prick.'

  Raven grinned.

  'Got it in one chief'

  Sighing Rook conceded defeat in the matter, he had no say in where Broadhead deployed or who they sent in, so he had no choice but to put up and shut up and he knew it, still didn't mean he had to like it.

  'Right.'

  Shaking his head he motioned to Crow and began to move off.

  'Crow double time, let's move; hopefully, we can put some distance between us and them'

  Turning, he looked to another member of his team.

  'Sparrow, do me a favour, and double back and chuck a light down one of the side spurs, as a helping hand to our cousins.'

  The small African-American grinned, his white opalescent teeth glinting even in the dim light of the tunnel. The five foot five inch tall man scurried back down the tunnel, as he rounded the bend a soft clicking echoed, followed by a quickly fading green glow.

  Rook and Crow moved at a heavy pace, still ever vigilant, the enclosed space of the mine making both men very edgy. There was very little room to manoeuvre, the twisting intersecting tunnels could easily leave them scattered to the four-winds if they found themselves separated. Sparrow glanced about him, his nerves beginning to fray, the reverberating moans of the Infected mine workers seemed to fill any available space around him; their haunting lullaby seeping into his bones. The plaintive wailing filling him with a cold that ate away at him, chilling his very soul until all that was left was a hollow cavern of ice and sorrow.

  He heard the scraping of feet slowly succumbing to rigour before anything else, the soft guttural gurgling moan rolled across the tunnels walls surrounding him with the wet noise of a blood filled throat. Sweat rolled down his forehead and neck, the tear shaped droplets running into each other before sliding over his ebony skin like rain over glass.

  Panic began its slow creep up his spine making Sparrow's hackles rise as his head darted every which way trying to pin point the noise. Lifting his hand to his neck, he activated his throat mike.

  'Hawk, Raven, I don't think I am alone here fellas.'

  A soft cold hand grabbed his shoulder, the stale stench of foetid breath filling his nose and throat as the cold skin of the Infected met the warm supple flesh of his body.

  Fear gripped his heart, turning his head slowly the twenty-six year old specialist came eye-to-eye with death incarnate and in that moment he knew he was a dead man, the blue white eyes holding his gaze screamed at him as he held their dying stare. Hot, wet, stagnant breath rolled over his neck as he stared at the eyes before him, his heart sank ever further as he heard the rapid shuffling behind him.

  'Shit.'

  Hawk and Raven looked at each other as their radio earbuds relayed the trembling fear filled voice of their comrade. Rising to their feet they stared down the tunnel, both men knew it was tantamount to suicide to charge back down that tunnel, it took all the will they had not to let their hearts override their minds.

  As both men gazed into the gaping black maw of the tunnel, they knew that the man who had ventured down it would never be coming back out.

  'Sorry Sparrow.'

  Raven gazed down the tunnel, his heart heavy with guilt and regret.

  'Rook, this is Raven how copy?'

  'Raven this is Rook, good copy, go ahead.'

  Raven sighed before he pressed down on the key pad of his microphone.

  'Sparrow's gone.'

  'Well go fucking fetch him back!'

  Raven sighed again. 'No boss I mean he is gone, gone!'

  A burst of static shot through the line followed by a wet gurgling cough, 'Don't rule me out yet brother.'

  Raven stood rooted to the spot as he focused his attention back down the tunnel, the ghostly silhouette of a man seemed to coalesce in the blackness, slowly taking form like wax in water.

  Bloody, beaten, and ragged Sparrow limped from the mouth of the tunnel.

  Staggering forwards he lifted his rifle and fired one-handed behind him listening to the wet slaps of rounds tearing through flesh not four feet behind him.

  'Pussys.' He spat the words out like undercooked beef as he staggered, his knees buckling sending him crashing to the floor twelve feet from his team mates. Diving forwards, Hawk latched onto the drag hoop of Sparrow's vest pulling him backwards down the tunnel.

  'Raven move it, rolling fire!'

  Stabbing his fingers into his microphone call switch Hawk, opened the channel.

  'Rook, Crow, get your asses back here, we got a lo
t of fucking trouble.'

  The line danced with static as a chopped, slightly distorted voice echoed back at him.

  'Sorry buddy, no can do, kinda busy.'

  The sound of muted gunfire and guttural moans floated into Hawk's ears. 'Roger that.' Turning back to his two team mates. 'We are on our own boys. Rook and Crow are busy entertaining the locals, and I think we have some more coming who were late for dinner, lets not disappoint them.'

  Raven let his rifle hang as he pulled the compact M249SPW from off his back. The machine gun swung up into his grip as the laser designator sprung to life. The green beam cut through the darkness as Hawk pulled the weapon to his shoulder. The forearm mounted pistol grip nestled in his hand like an extension of his body. A feral almost shark like grin blossomed over his features as he watched the semi emaciated and bloody forms of the Infected burst free from the clutches of the darkened tunnel.

  'Okay mother fuckers, supper time.'

  21

  Lunda Norte Province, Fucauma Diamond Mine.

  Outer entrance: Angola 14:50 local time.

  Dictator, Titan, Wolf, and the rest of S.A.U Templar stood in the entrance to the mine, florescent glow sticks hung from the backs of their helmet and the front of their vests.

  'Okay lads, two teams of nine.

  'Titan you're heading team two, take the left hand fork and work your way to the eastern edge of the mine.

  'I'll head up team one and take the right to the western edge. Work your way back round to the southern side and we'll rendezvous there. Some Division Thirty-Six Alpha twonk team is in there so be nice if you find them. I have a feeling its Rook's lot so yeah, if they're Infected then take em down otherwise play nicely girls. See you on the other side.'

  With that, Dictator and the splinter team headed off into the burgeoning dark of the mine. They moved with precision and ease, gliding through the dark like winged angels of death.

  The MP5sd sub machine-guns in their hands, spat at anything that moved; the tunnels behind them lay strewn with the bodies of dead Infected, their cold, sallow corpses littering the tunnel like a carpet. The tunnels twisted, spiralling down as the men descended into the Earth, deep into the hot and humid bowels of the planet as they went in search of the root of the infecting evil that plagued the continent.

  Sliding on his heels Dictator held up a closed,leather gloved fist as he cocked his head to the side. 'Listen.' His hand motioning for them all to stop in place and maintain their noise discipline. 'Gun fire silenced; not ours, those are five five six if I am not mistaken. The yanks are close by and from the sounds of things in trouble.' Glancing back at his men he grinned.

  'Shall we lend a hand gents?'

  Colinson snapped out of his reverie as Baker walked into his office.

  'Hey Dave, how's things?'

  Colinson looked up at the door to see the slightly dishevelled form of Derek Baker standing in the doorway.

  'Hello Derek grab a seat, I was reading over Agent Rook's report again; on the Africa incident. He's a solid operative; we should roll him into our lot.' Baker gave a wolf like grin. 'Already did, about nine months ago, in fact, he got sick of the underhanded and bureaucratic crap being fed to his team by their paymasters, so. When I offered, he jumped ship.'

  Colinson looked shocked and pleased at the same time, a wry humour dancing in his eyes. 'You didn't clear it by me, who is it?'

  Baker dropped into the padded leather chair opposite Colinson as he spoke. 'Actually mate, I did; and you know who it is as well!'

  Colinson looked sceptical. 'Anyway, have you read this?'

  Baker shook his head and took the proffered folder. 'No I didn't, I know some of the details but not many.'

  Bakers eyes widened as he read the after action report.

  'This is bad, very, very bad.' Colinson stared at his operational commander.

  'Yeah I thought so to.'

  ****

  Rook, stared at the Infected black African in front of him, a look of consternation and surprise waged war across his features as he switched his gaze between the ragged hole in it's neck, the dead cold features of it's face and the pick axe it had tried to bury in his head. Looking to Crow he voiced his thoughts.

  'These ain't normal Infected, buddy.' Rook's Boston accent could not hide the tremulous note of fear riding the undercurrent. Crow knelt down and pulled out a syringe and a blood vial.

  'Couldn't agree more, gonna take a sample for the boys back home, watch my six okay.'

  Rook watched the tunnel with an impatient air surrounding him, Crow knew his boss was unnerved and he couldn't blame him. They had dealt with the Infected back home but nothing like this, these seemed to be capable of higher thought, logical processes, and mental functions other, more normal, Infected were incapable of. Rising to his feet, Crow slipped the ampoule into a foam padded pouch on his chest.

  'Rook. Brother, if I go down, the vial is here.'

  Crow tapped his chest, showing Rook where he had stashed the object in question.

  'Roger that, now lets get the fuck out of here. This is too big for any of us to handle. Get on the coms to the others and have them relay to the Brits that this situation is to hot for a fire team, then drop a radio beacon and we will bug-out to the evac.'

  Crow nodded and relayed the orders. Raven dropped his hand from his ear to his neck as he replied.

  'Acknowledge Crow, be on site in thirty seconds or less, but we lost the pizza sorry buddy.

  'Hawk, Sparrow, fire and move ladies we have a dinner date.'

  The two men nodded and began to pepper pot backwards down the tunnel. Sparrow unleashed a short burst, got up and sprinted twelve-feet, dropping to his knee facing the way he had come, firing off well aimed-shots as his team mates ran past him.

  They reached the end of the tunnel behind them a fresh cut pathway sunk deeper into the darkened mine narrowing dramatically as they moved along its length. Raven's shoulder scraped off the wall as he forced himself out as far as he could manage to allow his team mates past.

  'Fuck, not good, this is not good.'

  Hawk jammed his fingers into his radio collar as he spoke wincing at the accidental force.

  'Crow, Rook, we're bunched tight here. Going to hold off on this position, can you double back to our site?'

  Hawk heard a guttural curse as Rook replied.

  'Negative buddy, we're stuck fast. Do what you can then meet us topside.'

  Crow spun and keyed through a new message, listening intently he motioned over Rook, rattling off everything he could as he was told it.

  'Big Bird has called through. They are in convo with the African Union in Johannesburg and the state leaders down here', he paused as he cringed deeply at the implications, 'about levelling the mine, seems we have attracted every Infected in the area to us.'

  Crunching gravel and a soft skittering of stones bounced down the tunnel mouth as they continued to push back the wave of Infected trying to force their way towards them.

  'Fucking typical that ain't it lads.'

  A gravelled Glaswegian voice cut through their conversation like a hot knife through butter.

  'What the fuck do you want, Dictator.'

  'Nothing much boys. I'm nearby with some mates of mine. Out for a bit of a walk and thought you might like a hand.'

  Rook groaned to himself as he continued to fire, the crunching of gravel slowly edging closer.

  'Whatever buddy, we need all the help we can get right now.'

  Rook could all but feel the smile on the scotsman's face as he waited with steeply growing impatience for Dictators reply.

  'Fair enough like, just tell your boys not to shoot us we are coming through now mate.'

  Rook grimaced again; he really didn't like the guy.

  'Roger that, Rook out.'

  22

  Dictator, Legionnaire, and the other seven men moved quickly through the tunnels picking off any straggling Infected they came across.

  'Dictator, these ai
n't normal Infected, they look...well they look...intelligent is the only way to put it, going to sound stupid but I get the feeling this ain't a normal outbreak.'

  Dictator growled from the back of his throat.

  'Write it up later, right now we got some yanks to save. I may think he is a holier than thou twat, but he don't deserve to be torn to bits.' Legionnaire looked at his unit chief, a confused question furrowing his brow. 'But boss, you think that of all Americans.'

  Dictator chuckled. 'Very true son, very true, but still me and the Rook have a bit of history, just leave it at that, okay sunshine.'

  Legionnaire nodded and refocused on what was ahead. Rounding a corner all nine men slid to a halt the tunnel coming to a stop eight feet in front of them.

  The floor fell away sharply, the charred black scaring the only indication of what had happened. Kneeling Dictator picked up the remains of a blasting cap and twirled the twisted length of melted wire between his fingers.

  'Seems the locals blew the floor out of the tunnel, must have thought it would save them, and most likely it would have.'

  Legionnaire peered over the edge of the hole as he kicked a smattering of pebbles off the edge. 'What d'ya mean, it would have?' Dictator smiled tightly, he motioned with the blasting cap to the far side of the hole. 'The bodies, they blew the floor out but the Infected were already over there with them, probably one of their mates got bit or something and didn't say a word, then he turned and went to town on the rest of them.'

  Legionnaire looked puzzled as he stepped back from the crumbling lip of the hole before him.

  'How do you know?'

  Dictator snorted dryly. 'I don't, but one thing I do know though is, we ain't getting through this way.'

  Keying his mic to the right channel Dictator relayed the bad news.

  'Rook, this is Dictator...the route's jammed solid, they blew the floor out back here. We ain't getting through this way, can you push on and meet us at the southern air intake, we have fast ropes and a chopper on standby.'