Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City

by Duncan, M. W.

  ‘You have a baby? We need to keep it quiet!’

  ‘How do you expect me to keep a baby quiet?’

  ‘Do your best. Those things are attracted to noise.’

  She turned quickly towards the stairs.

  ‘I’m Tim, by the way.’

  ‘I know,’ she threw over her shoulder. ‘I saw your ID. It’s on the floor.’

  ‘I’m Terri, and the wee man making that noise upstairs is Liam.’

  Magarth picked up his DSD card. The picture was taken at a time when he did not think nightmares could be real. He poked his head into the living room. A phone sat on a small stand, next to the sofa. He looked back to see if Terri returned. He was alone. He picked up the receiver and put it to his ear. The single tone droned on.

  ‘Damn!’ He picked through his pockets. He was in need of a pill and fast, but nothing, they were empty. He scoured through his rucksack. Nothing. The contents were upended onto the floor. No pills. ‘Damn!’ he cursed again. He must have left his supply back at the guesthouse.

  ‘Tim?’ Terri called softly from the top of the stairs. ‘You can come up now, Liam’s asleep.’

  ***

  They both watched the door, paralysed, helpless. The wine from the broken bottle pooled around Gemma’s feet. The latch splintered. Raspy growls and snorts came from the other side. Another thump and the door gave way, the security chain snapping, thrown clear of the doorway.

  A bloodied figure crashed through the door. It fell and skidded along the floor, then let out a roar. Stacey screamed, scrambled over the back of the sofa escaping the reaching hands of the infected. The monster snapped its jaw over and again. Its eyes rolled then steadied and rolled some more. Then fixed on Gemma.

  She recognised him. Her neighbour. Naked, apart from a pair of blood-streaked white boxers, his body marked with bleeding sores. He sniffed in Gemma’s direction.

  ‘Run, Gemma!’ cried Stacey.

  Gemma took a couple of steps back, putting the coffee table between she and her neighbour. The infected lunged, fingers wide and grasping. Gemma slapped at his clammy arms, the skin wet and slick. Its hands went to her throat. With impossible strength, it pushed her back, until she crashed against the wall. Christmas baubles fell from a shelf. Then a vase, then books.

  Gemma wanted to scream but nothing came. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see her death approach. She wished to be anywhere else, cursed with any misfortune, just not here, not now. The infected grasped a handful of her hair, and ripped is from her scalp. This is it, she thought. I’m going to die.

  The hands disappeared from her throat. Gemma fell to her knees, gasping for breath. She looked up. Stacey had thumped its head with a cast-iron lamp, but it did little to deter the monster, her neighbour. It jittered and shook in a macabre dance, then tensed, ready to pounce again. Seeing a chance, Gemma scuttled forward on hands and knees and grabbed it by the foot.

  ‘Hit it again! Stacey! Do it!’

  The lamp came crashing down. A crack sounded. The infected continued to struggle.

  ‘Again!’

  Stacey did. Again, and again. Blood spurted. The infected’s movements stopped, but she kept hitting until the lamp slipped from her grasp. Its head was open.

  Stacey sobbed.

  ‘Stacey, here.’ Gemma reached out her arms, motioning for Stacey to join her. The girls sank into an embrace. ‘You saved me.’

  ***

  Magarth climbed the stairs and came to the first door. Terri appeared with a candle in a jar, and closed the door behind her.

  ‘Not here,’ she said, ‘down there.’ She pointed along the hall to another room.

  A timber desk, a laptop, small lamp, a bookcase brimming with non-fiction and photographic collections, a two-seater leather sofa, and framed family pictures on the walls. Terri placed the candle on the desk. The hint of vanilla hit him again.

  ‘Sit,’ she said, pointing to the sofa.

  Magarth fell into the padded leather, and reached across and closed the blinds.

  ‘Can I put the light on?’

  ‘If it’s dim.’

  Terri sat at the desk seat. She was attractive, tanned skin and a perfect smile, dark-red hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail. Slim and wearing pyjamas, she seemed more vulnerable than he did.

  ‘Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich or something.’

  ‘No. Can’t say I’ve got much of an appetite.’

  She twisted around, pulled open a drawer on the desk and removed a bottle of malt and two glasses. ‘My husband’s. He keeps it here for emergencies. Are you married, Tim?’

  ‘A wife, Maria, with a baby on the way.’

  She poured two generous glasses. Magarth rolled one around in his hand, watching the enticing liquid swirl. With his supply of pills gone, this would do. He imagined sitting at home, with Maria next to him, her hand on his leg as they listened to music. A world away. No panic, no fear. Only love and laughter.

  ‘Where’s your husband?’ He took a good sip.

  ‘In the hospital. In isolation actually, for a week now. I phone the number they gave me three times a day, morning, noon, and night, trying to get some information. It’s an answering machine. They just ask for your number and the name of the person you’re enquiring about.’ Her eyes grew watery. ‘It was your DSD card that made me open the door. What’s going on? What’s happened to my husband? David Pegg. Do you know him?’ She drained her whiskey.

  Magarth thought back to all the faces in the tank. To him, they had been monsters, merciless things to be feared. Her husband could have been one of them, or, one now prowling the streets. He looked at the wall, and the array of photos. A face was put to David, a picture of Terri and him sitting on a yacht, holding each other close.

  ‘Tim?’

  ‘I wish I could tell you something, but I’m a data analyst, I didn’t deal with anyone directly. I don’t know more than you.’

  ‘Could David be like those things that chased you tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure. There’s a chance.’

  She finished her whiskey. ‘I just hate this not knowing. I’ll get you a duvet and pillows. Sleep in here tonight.’ Terri halted before she got to the door. ‘There’s a mobile on the desk. You can try your wife.’

  He reached for the mobile. The screen lit up. No Service.

  ***

  Gemma wanted it out of her flat. The girls wrapped the body in a duvet, and dragged the dead neighbour out into the hallway. She crudely pieced the door back together. It offered little security, so she upended a lounge chair, leant it across the doorway.

  ‘I think that should hold.’ She knew the flat was not safe. They had to get somewhere else. Somewhere others could protect them. ‘We need to leave, get where the army is.’

  ‘Out there?’

  ‘The sooner the better. What if all my neighbours are like him?’

  Stacey let out a loud breath. ‘Alright.’

  ‘Go to my bedroom and grab all the warm clothes you can find. I think we’re better travelling at night. The hospital isn’t far.’

  ‘That’s the best place to go?’

  ‘That’s where the DSD are. Surely they’d be protected the most?’

  ‘People will die tonight,’ said Stacey, her voice flat.

  ‘Hundreds,’ agreed Gemma.

  ‘I’ll get the clothes.’

  ‘Change from what you’ve got on. You’re covered in blood.’

  ***

  PC Galloway sat by himself at the window. Only the flickering of the television caused any illumination in the room. He watched the snow falling outside. He guessed that the window looked out to the front of the hospital.

  ‘Mind if I come in?’

  ‘Not at all.’ He waved for Jane to sit next to him. ‘How’s things on the ward?’

  Jane peeled a banana. ‘Everyone’s holding up well enough. A lot of the nurses are worried about their families. Not being able to get through on the phone. It’s to
ugh for them.’

  ‘How about you?’

  ‘Fine.’ She took a bite of the yellow fruit. ‘My cat’s at home, but he’ll be alright. My family lives down south. What’s going to happen? We can’t stay here for long.’

  He looked out the window. ‘I don’t know. Wait … did you just see that?’

  ‘See what?’

  A slight break in the snowfall opened up giving PC Galloway a brief glimpse of the front of the hospital. He could see a group of men moving through the snow. Two military trucks were parked at the entrance.

  ‘The military! We need to get their attention!’

  ‘How?’

  ‘The lights.’ He flicked the switch on and off repeatedly. ‘Do they see?’

  ‘I can’t tell.’ Jane pressed her hand against the glass. ‘I can’t see them. The snow’s too thick.’

  ‘Dammit!’ PC Galloway left the lights on. ‘At least they’re here. Maybe they’ll get to us by morning.’

  ‘What if they don’t? What if those things are crawling all over the hospital?’

  ‘Then I’ll have to go for help.’ A chill crawled up his spine at that thought. The military would get to them first. It would not come to that.

  ***

  The soft breaths coming from the figure across the room irritated Eric. It was nothing he didn’t expect. Bunking with someone was always an interesting challenge for the first day or two.

  He shifted in his bed, pulling the covers up further. He played with the dog tags at his chest. He had tried not to think of Martin, but his mind drifted to his fallen friend. They always bunked together. Martin was a huge chunk of his life, a lost part he thought he could fill with anger and the new mission. There was something else, too. He thought of Jacqui and the kids. In the dark of the lonely night, everything seemed to morph, the choices he made. Jacqui, Martin, Jason and the kids, all played on his mind. He could rebuild the family. It would not be easy, but deep down he believed it possible.

  A series of cracks from outside made him sit bolt upright. His roommate did the same. Neither spoke. Both listened. Eric could have passed it off as thunder, or perhaps an engine backfiring, but when it came again, he was in little doubt.

  ‘Gunfire.’

  ‘Gunfire,’ echoed Eric.

  Someone out there had real firearms and was using them. Eric did not relish the idea of walking into a warzone, holding a stun gun. Both men climbed from their bed and dressed.

  ***

  ‘You sure we shouldn’t wait until morning?’ Stacey tied a woollen scarf into a snug knot and pulled a matching hat over her head.

  ‘Less people will be about tonight. We can get there without trouble.’

  ‘You still taking that?’ Stacey pointed at the digital camera hanging around Gemma’s neck.

  ‘You never know.’

  ‘Just promise me we’re going out there for the right reasons.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That we’re heading out to find help, not photo opportunities.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Stacey pulled Gemma’s scarf tight and fixed her collar. ‘What do we tell the police about what happened here?’

  ‘The truth. Besides, something tells me that this type of crap is going on elsewhere.’

  Stacey nodded a couple of times. ‘Got your keys?’

  ‘In my pocket.’

  The hallway was quiet. Crimson-coloured handprints made grim decorations on the walls. They stepped over the dead body and made their way outside. The blast of cold was intense. Gemma pulled her coat tight and flicked the falling snow from her face.

  A snowplough cleared the road earlier in the day. The excess snow had been pushed tight to her car, and now the Vauxhall was imprisoned.

  ‘Is that your car?’

  Stacey kicked at the low wall of snow. It budged a little but not enough to be optimistic about digging the car out. ‘We’re walking.’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  Chapter 12

  Escalation

  ‘What do you think the temperature is?’ Stacey chuffed through clenched teeth.

  ‘Low.’ Gemma stepped over a lump of rolled snow.

  ‘It’s weird seeing the streets like this, nobody about, no cars, and no noise. It’s almost peaceful. Makes me want to whisper. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Only whisper?’ Gemma snapped a few camera shots of the deserted streets, the road plastered with a thick layer of pristine white. It really was striking, and quiet, except for the occasional whipping of the wind … and Stacey’s chatter.

  ‘How much longer do you think it’ll take us to get to the hospital?’

  The constant questions grated. Gemma didn’t remember this of her friend. ‘Maybe you should keep the talking down to a minimum, yeah? We don’t know who’s out here.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m just scared.’

  ‘I know you are. Everything will be alright once we get to the hospital. Trust me.’

  A distant humming from behind the two reporters caused them both to turn. Their footprints were already covered.

  ‘What is that?’

  Gemma readied her camera, believing it something worth capturing.

  The humming resolved into the pounding of powerful rotors. Two lights, bright and low appeared, moving towards them at speed. Stacey scooted to the cover of a car. Gemma poised her finger over the button on her camera. Helicopters. Gemma snapped as many pictures as she could. Two military machines sped overhead.

  ‘Are they going to the hospital?’

  ‘They must be. C’mon!’

  Figures appeared, pouring out of a side street. Gemma snapped a few pictures before realising the movement of the group was … unusual.

  ‘Gemma.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied, knowing her thoughts were the same as Stacey’s.

  ‘They’re like your neighbour.’

  ‘Run!’

  ***

  Magarth spent much of the night on the sofa, taking occasional sips from the whiskey bottle. He didn’t want to get drunk, but he didn’t want to be sober either. Just enough for the panic to subside. The hours dragged, each one a lengthy sentence in a book as he waited for the morning and hopefully the use of a telephone. He wiggled his tingling toes. He knew what was out there, and what he would have to risk to see Maria again. He closed his eyes, wanting to see her face, to gain some comfort from memories, and there she was, at the kitchen bench preparing his favourite dish; roast pork with apple sauce. She smiled, as she tasted the sauce, announcing it to be perfecto.

  Thundering came from outside. The whiskey bottle clattered to the floor. He pushed the blinds aside. Nothing.

  ‘What was that?’ Terri appeared in the doorway, pulled a nightgown about her and tied it off.

  ‘No lights,’ he warned.

  They knelt at the window.

  Two women, one with a camera held to her face. A frenzy broke towards the women.

  ‘We’ve got to let them in.’

  ‘We can’t.’

  ‘We have to.’

  ‘We won’t be safe. Your baby won’t be safe.’

  Terri ran down the stairs. The sounds of the latch and lock being undone followed.

  ‘In here! Hurry!’ she called out.

  ‘They’ll hear you,’ Magarth growled in a coarse whisper, but no one heard.

  The door closed and within seconds, he had three women with him looking out the window.

  ‘No noise,’ he ordered.

  The infected seemed to be confused, unaware of where the two girls had escaped. They circled, then slowed, then disappeared from sight.

  Terri lit the candles, and waved the two women to the sofa. They both removed their coats.

  His fingers touched lightly at his belt. The taser was still there. ‘Did they touch you?’

  ‘No,’ the two echoed.

  ‘I’m Terri.’

  ‘I’m Gemma, and this is Stacey.’ Gemma swept back her hair, her breath coming in a rush. ‘T
hanks for letting us in. I don’t know if we’d have made it to the hospital on foot.’

  ‘You were heading to the hospital?’ asked Magarth. ‘Why?’

  ‘It has to be safe there,’ explained Gemma. ‘The army surely will have it locked down for casualties. Besides, the two helicopters, they had to be heading to hospital.’

  Helicopters? Heading to the hospital? It wouldn’t be safe. Magarth’s heart sank. It was his fault. He abandoned all those at the DSD building too quickly. He should have alerted the authorities, yelled a warning. He pushed the rising guilt down, and tried to convince himself he had done what was needed, what was needed to survive. He focused. If the military were locking down the hospital, and with helicopter transport, he was sure he could use his DSD position to wangle a way out, but was he game enough to head back towards the hospital? If he wanted to get home, he had no choice. ‘When are you thinking of heading there?’

  ‘Let them rest, Tim, and see what the morning brings. We’re safe for the moment. I’d offer you a warm drink, girls, but Tim thinks it’s too risky to put the kettle on.’

  ‘Too noisy,’ said Magarth.

  ‘You’re with the DSD?’ Gemma pointed to his ID.

  ‘What? Oh, yeah.’ He hooked the badge back under his shirt.

  ‘So you can shed some light on all this?’

  Magarth shrugged. ‘Not really. I’m an administrator. I don’t know a whole lot.’

  Gemma seemed to study him. He didn’t like it.

  ‘I’ll take the sofa downstairs. You girls can have this room. Get some sleep.’

  Magarth settled on a sofa downstairs. He kept his shoes on, and again touched the taser tucked into his belt.

  ***

  The gunfire roused most of the company. The men headed to the lobby and into a side room. Tables had been set, and staff hurried about with plates, mugs, and cutlery. It looked like they were preparing to feed a small army.

  A man with dark bags beneath his eyes approached. He gave a smile that held no warmth. ‘Eric Mann?’