Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

  A pale, gasped, affirmative greeted Williams reply as he sprinted forwards, his feet aquaplaning on a pool of stagnant alcohol as he rounded and corner. His feet, losing their fight, with the laws of mechanical adhesion flew from under him; as he lost any semblance of balance, and crashed to the floor, with a bone shaking thump.

  As his cursed cry of surprise was cut short. He watched Brooks fly backwards as a pale skinned figure collided with the soldier. Williams slid out of sight round the corner.

  Spinning up onto one knee Williams snatched his pistol from its holster and aimed stopping short as he watched Brooks tangled fight with his assailant.

  'Go I got this.'

  The anger filled roar stopped Williams in his tracks, his eyes showing his conflicted state as he weighed up his options. He knelt there, time dripping by his mind torn between the man who was all but his brother and his ingrained need to finish the mission. He made his choice as a strangled, pain laced, cry of anguish floated out behind him; leaping to his feet he cast one last baleful look at his still struggling comrade and sprinted away into the strobe lit gloom of the corridor.

  The Van

  Baker stood mute as he listened to the crackle of gunfire over the radio, Davies bustled behind him manhandling his ballistic armour over his head. 'Control, this is R.R.T. One, respond.' Baker slammed his hand against the call button all but driving the small plastic pellet back into the console.

  'One this is Control, go for green.'

  Gunfire blared through the speaker drowning out anything else in the background, the anger filled roars fighting for dominance as the fire fight ensued.

  'We hit a damned nest here. Anyone above the first floor is toast, no way in hell they could be anything other than Infected, recommending Executive Order Six, evac and purge. Otherwise it's just going to be a waste of lives and bullets.'

  Baker weighed his options, he had only been forced to use an E Six order twice before, and neither had been easy to gloss over. The first in Goodmayes eight months ago, and the second was on a commuter train eight weeks ago, none of them had been easy choices and neither was this one.

  'One, this is control.' Automatic fire rattled his ears as he waited for a reply.

  'This is One, go for green.'

  'Is the E Six our only option?'

  A muffled curse rolled out of the earphone at him as he waited for Woodwrow's reply.

  'It's the only one where we all walk out of here, of course if you wanted to train up another R.R.T. team by all means leave us here as lunch for this lot.' Baker sighed, his course of action was clear, pushing the switch down once more he spoke.

  'Pull your men out and fall back to the vehicles.'

  'Acknowledged.'

  Seventeen minutes later, they stood and watched as B.C.T. agents sealed the building and began the slow and heart deadening process of flooding the building with a G series nerve agent.

  Baker turned away from the scene. The thought of using that weighing heavy on his soul as he made the slow walk back to the Van.

  He had no love for this method of warfare and was glad it had been banned as a general purpose, or mass destruction weapon, his only concession to it was that in these cases it worked and worked well. He knew however, it still didn't mean he could willingly condone its use or, in most cases, its very existence.

  Sitting down he held his head in his hands and ran through the days events leading to this conclusion. His mind burned as he checked, re-checked, and scoured every possible scenario and choice made, yet he couldn't find anything that resulted in any other ending than the one with which he was faced; a snort of disgust left him as he balled his fist, curling his fingers until his nails bit into the palm of his hand.

  'Tough end?' He glanced up and came face to face with a packet of Benson and Hedges super kings, pulling one of the slim sticks of tobacco from the packet he set it between his lips and lit it, drawing the heady smoke deep into his lungs before breathing out through his nose.

  'Definitely was, it's never an easy choice to make, but this time, it really was the only answer to an un-winnable situation. The R.R.T. mandate is as a quick strike team. They aren't equipped to deal with the drawn out siege operation, this was quickly becoming. Just glad we got everyone out of there before the B.C.T. dropped the curtain.'

  Davies stayed mute as he watched the pumps hum into life and their silent clouds of death slowly fill the building.

  'Davies.'

  'Yeah?'

  'Why are you here anyway, I told you to take a week's leave. It's been about a month since the last time and the one before that was,' Baker paused for a second dragging his thoughts into order, 'Christ, just after the tower block that's a good eight months ago.'

  'Got bored.'

  'Fair enough.'

  40

  Broadhead

  Biological Studies Division

  Lab One

  Baker, Davies, and Colinson strolled through the hermetically sealed doors of the lab, the thunking of their booted feet echoing around the room as they made their way across the chequerboard surface. Marcus, his eye still a deep purple from the bruising, glared at them as they made their way past. Davies turned his head and glanced at the stick thin scientist a smirk pulling at his features as he waved condescendingly. He chuckled slightly as he watched the man's face contort with rage only to wince as his own muscles rebelled against him.

  'You called Anna. What's happened?'

  She spun in her chair, her face drawn and haggard from a lack of sleep, her usually pristine half length lab coat sat on her frame like a limp dishcloth. The rumpled folds showed stains from a hurried meal, the dried on stings of pasta clinging to the cloth like a limpet to a rock. Her slightly wild eyed expression gave Baker cause for concern as he took in her extremely dishevelled appearance.

  'It's, it's,' She paused trying to collect her thoughts and growled with anger as she confused herself ever further. Letting herself relax, she drew in a deep breath, her chest rising sharply as she did so. Her gaze alighted on Davies, she couldn't help but catch the attentive look of concern playing over his features as she struggled to calm her shattered nerves. She smiled before clearing her throat and finishing her train of thought.

  'The virus, parasite, whatever the hell we are calling it, it's not the same.'

  Baker looked only vaguely confused by the conjecture as she spoke.

  'The samples you sent me, the ones the B.C.T. members had kept on lock-down, they are not the same as the ones we have been testing.'

  Baker's eyes widened perceptibly as he listened.

  'The symptomatic changes are the same, but at the same time they are different. In the original trials we were running on the test subjects,' she shuddered at the memories of the men she had watched die in front of her, 'They all showed pronounced tissue degradation and extended organ damage in sync with their mental and physical decline. Eventually this led to full bodily shut down and death. These samples simply don't. I contacted my alternates in America and Russia, as well as a friend in the French Biological Containment Bureau and all have concurred with my findings.'

  She looked pleadingly at Baker and the other two men, almost begging them to prove her wrong.

  'There is another virus strain, its make up is similar, but that is where the similarities end. This one, well,' she stopped not wanting to go on with her explanation. She pushed away wheeling herself towards the far end of her desk. Davies wanted to step forwards and offer some form of comfort but the firm warning grasp of Colinson's hand on his forearm and the imperceptible shake of Baker's head gave him pause.

  'Anna?'

  She looked up from the draw she had pulled open as Davies spoke, despite the heated looks coming from his commanding officers.

  'Don't.'

  Nodding she dropped the unopened bottle of single malt scotch back into the draw, the heavy semi-metallic clang of the glass against the metal draw bottom rang through the room like a gunshot as she shoved the draw
closed with and audible crunch.

  'I allowed all three agencies access to my findings, and the data gathered on the test subjects, it seemed only right to do so.'

  Colinson looked slightly aghast at the admission but, when he considered the ramifications of what she had told them only a minute before he let it slide, nothing could change what was unfolding before them and he saw no reason to purposefully condemn the only nations that were willing to listen. Colinson thought back to the arrogant and condescending reactions of the Chinese. Only a year ago it became apparent that the pathogen had spread across the oceans and into mainland China. The pleas to the Chinese government had fallen on deaf ears as did the rising body count being touted to them from their own people.

  He had pleaded with them over and over again, until finally only six weeks after his pleading petitions began, he stood impotent, powerless to help as China, the great dragon of the East fell to the plague live on CNN.

  'It's not a problem, I know for a fact none of us wish a repetition of what happened in China.'

  They all stood silently, a slim moment of reflection hanging between them as they thought of where they were when the news broke of China's demise.

  Turning his attention back to the task at hand; Colinson focused on Anastasia's findings.

  'So this new version of the virus, what exactly does it do?'

  She sighed as she pulled up the data she had accumulated on the new strain.

  'It is essentially the same, yet drastically different.'

  She held up her hand knowing that this made very little sense, waiting for their protestations to die before carrying on.

  'It doesn't react to the human body or human tissue in the same manner as the other two variants; although to say two is an understatement, each person effectively carries their own personalised version. This one however goes one step further, it works in a kind of pseudo symbiosis with the Infected host. Living off them but not feeding off them.

  'It seems to use the body as a breeding ground to multiply, and spreads itself through liquid dispersion. We know that a bite, scratch, blood spray, or shrapnel damage from bone fragments, can cause transference of the pathogen. Even being spat upon, by an unknown carrier is enough to transfer the virus. It would then eventually, overtime, lead to the host's death.

  This version simply doesn't do that, yes you can still get infected in the same manner, but it actively works to avoid its own destruction, it aids cellular regeneration, it helps the body stay alive by actively improving the base survival functions and motor skills.'

  She stopped once more, gauging their reactions to her findings.

  'In essence it is a smart drug that drives you insane and turns you into a carnivore.'

  They stood there, all three men running through what this entailed. Breaking through the mental block first; Baker drew her attention to himself.

  'Can they still be put down the same way as before?'

  Anastasia shrugged, helpless to answer. 'I do not know, one could hazard a guess as to the affirmative. The body can function with superficial damage to the cortex and people have been known to survive a shot to the head but without finding a host carrier and actually shooting them, who knows; with all that being said, complete and total destruction of the brain or head well it is no different to pulling the engine out a car, without it nothing works.'

  Davies stood puzzled.

  'Hang on, we dropped them like flies back in that tower block, not one showed any glimmer of differing intelligence to the rest, aside from a few we encountered on the way out of there, and they eventually went down when pumped full of bullets.'

  Baker looked to Davies and then back to Anna as she listened to him, an unreadable shimmer of emotions swirling behind her near purple eyes.

  'The samples never came from the Infected in the tower block, they were from ones located in basement levels of the building, they were “victims” of the purge not your team.'

  'Well we are fucked then, if these things are as smart as you say; then good bye and good luck to the human race.'

  Davies turned and perched on the desk, his hands grasping the edge hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Sensing where this was all heading, Colinson spoke up.

  'They are still essentially human, and I have not met a human yet who can survive massive blood loss, or a hollow point to the head, this is still an equal war.

  'Just because the enemy have been given a slight upgrade doesn't mean we've lost. Besides, we've all fought opponents a lot worse than this. At least these ones don't shoot back.'

  Baker snorted as he watched Davies' reaction, to Colinson's miniature pep talk.

  'You have a point; although, I don't think the lads will like this very much, and before you say they don't need to know, they fucking well do, I ain't being fucked over again, not by you and not by some twat faced Colonel who got his panties in a twist.'

  Colinson's face went white as he listened. 'Yeah the boss told me about Ridgmont. Now, if you will excuse me I am going to blast the shit out of some targets and then brief my team, catch you two later, Anna lovely to see you as always.'

  He winked at her as he walked away, a sly grin spreading across his features as he did so. Colinson sat down on the edge on Anastasia's desk as he turned the information over in his head. Still on his feet Baker stretched, his spine popping slightly as he started to speak.

  'Well I have two teams to debrief and my section to notify, Dave can I leave the R.R.T. to you?'

  Colinson nodded as Baker walked away heading towards the doors, leaving Anastasia and Colinson in a sullen silence.

  'You opened that single malt yet?'

  Anastasia shook her head as she reached for the draw.

  ****

  Richard Sharp sat in the mess hall a pint of lager in his hand, he sipped slowly at the ice cool liquid as he waited for Baker to arrive.

  'How's it going Splinter?'

  Sharp snorted slightly as he took a long slow pull from his pint and set the glass down on the table top, savouring the smooth texture of the alcohol sliding down his throat.

  'Better than it did over there.'

  Baker sat down with a thump across from Sharp, a mug of coffee in his hand, tapping the rim of his glass Sharp spoke.

  'Not having one?'

  Derek shook his head as he drank from the steaming mug of tart black liquid.

  'No mate, I'm still on the clock. So; tell me what happened.'

  'You read the reports.' Sharp replied, his flippant answer a poorly veiled attempt at dodging the question. Ignoring the attempted avoidance Baker nodded the affirmative, knowing full well, that their contents was only half the story. The other half of which he would drag out of Sharp no matter how long it took.

  'Yeah, but, I know you, and I know that half of that is sugar, another quarter is fiction, and the rest is a dressed down version of real events, so I want you to level with me.'

  Sharp leant back in his chair, his hand still clasped around his pint glass, a drawn out sigh left him as dredged the memories from the layered mass of swirling horror that clustered in his head.

  'It was a cluster fuck. Half the time we're slotting Infected, some of the older kind, dumb as a bag of rocks and as a slow as a one legged paraplegic. The others well, they were smart bastards and quick as greased pig shit down a drain pipe.'

  Baker stifled a laugh as Sharp spoke, his mind whirling as he processed the information.

  'We hit a large pocket in a small province just east of the capital, heavy fighting and rocket fire was coming in from the Libyan National Army, inaccurate as hell but it plastered the area and levelled a lot of the sub-structures and homes.

  Anyway; we were doing a small re-con of the place after the LNA had moved on and the fighting had eased up. That's when we first encountered the smart ones; they picked off a couple of the lads at the fringes of the patrol line. We got scattered reports of contacts all over the place, most of the patrol teams managed to drop anythi
ng coming at them; but we still lost some men, Private Letras, that young Spanish fellow, he was a good kid I liked him. Shame really he would have made a good scout.

  'Along with Letras went Jackman, his buddy, and Selous, all three of them gone.'

  He snapped his fingers as if the point needed any more emphasis than it already had.

  'From the short radio burst Selous managed to rattle off they had gotten pinned down by some twat left behind by the LNA and were swarmed by a group of Infected that got stirred up by the gunfire. I'm just glad that the swarm got the shooter as well; silver lining and all that shit.'

  Sharp paused taking a rather large gulp from the glass in his hand. Cuffing away the line of foam and beer left on his chin, he continued, well, naturally we beat feet to get to them, but needless to say we were to late.

  'Bits of the lads were all over the place; we found Selous' mangled head shoved onto the end of a bit of drain pipe, that scared the shit out of some of the younger lads,' Sharp shrugged slightly as he continued to speak, 'To me, well, it made no sense. It all looked like a staged set from some shitty horror movie, only; we all knew that it was no joke. The staging and how they left them just didn't look real. His lips and nose had been chewed off, and one of his ears was ripped in half. The poor bastard. We managed to gather up as much as we could of the three kids, and send it back to the hub with Hinkle, one of the snipers, good lad, and fucking crack shot.

  'Wasn't a nice thing to see, then again, what we saw further on was far, far, worse. I remember what you told me about your old C.O. and how he bought the farm. Well; Benji didn't deserve what they did to him, not by a long shot, and it makes your C.O's death seem like planned euthanasia.'

  Baker sat and listened as Sharp let the flood gates open, every one of the command staff knew what it was like to lose someone on your team, Baker more than most, but as he watched Sharp relay all that had happened he could see just how much losing the men under his command had affected him. The fight had been sucked out of him, his shoulders slouched and turgid as if making any sort of quick motion would simply shatter him. The bags hanging from his eyes aged him far beyond his thirty-one years. All in all, it was beginning to make Baker doubt the man's ability to bounce back and remain an effective operative.