‘What?’
Eric put a hand on his chest. ‘You know what. That thing killed Sinclair and you decide to go one-on-one with it?’
‘Sinclair was sloppy. It’s a shame, but it happens.’
‘And what you did wasn’t sloppy?’
‘Take a look around, Eric. This city’s going to hell. You’ve seen them now. You really think there’s a chance they can be healed? The army’s shooting on sight. At the end of the day, they’re dead men walking. Now get the hell off me.’
Eric dropped his hand. Brutus had a point. These people really were beyond hope. How could anyone come back from that? Brutus marched off.
‘Brutus is Brutus. Sinclair’s dead,’ said Carter. ‘The infected, too. What do we do with the bodies, and the live ones?’
Eric rubbed his chin. The unplanned stop brought a dilemma. At the hospital, they would have the army to aid in the containment. Here, they were on their own.
‘We need to get them off the street. We’re bringing too much attention to ourselves as it is. Get on the radio and see if you can get a containment team down the road. For now, have a couple of guys secure an empty house. If we can’t get a team here, we’ll have to swing back around for the dead once we’re done at the hospital. I need to talk to that DSD guy we picked up.’
Carter nodded to a place not five metres behind Eric.
Magarth was curled up in a ball in the snow. Tim Magarth, he said his name was. Something sparked in Eric’s memory. A faint hint of familiarity that he could not place.
‘Please,’ the man pleaded, ‘you’ve got to get me out of the city.’
‘You need to answer some questions.’
Chapter 15
Unravelling
Eric climbed the stairs, followed by the DSD guy. Two of his team had swept the house and found it empty. Brutus lingered at the door, while Carter oversaw moving the downed infected into the downstairs rooms. They passed photos of the home’s owners. Eric wondered how many of them now lay face down in the snow, dead, or wandered infected. Were they bringing some of the family home?
He found a child’s bedroom. Blue walls, shelves full of Lego and painted futuristic soldiers. A single bed sat under a bookshelf laden with colourful book spines.
‘Sit.’ Eric pointed at the bed.
Magarth’s hands were bound in front, and played with his ID card, turning it over and over. Eric grabbed the card. The image showed this man a lifetime away, before the stress and fear darkened his eyes, paled his skin. He slipped the card into Magarth’s pocket. ‘It’s pretty rough out there tonight.’
‘It’s been like this for some time.’
Eric pulled a seat from behind the door, swept it around and sat. He placed his shotgun against the wall. ‘So you’re with the DSD.’
‘I’ve been here for a few weeks.’
‘What’s your role?’
Magarth ran a hand through his hair, the other hand awkwardly following. ‘Administrator. I was a liaison officer.’
‘So you’re not an agent?’
‘No.’
‘But you know just as much.’
‘No.’
‘What do you know about containment at the DSD centre?’
Magarth’s eyes went wide, his tongue ran over his teeth and he looked down at the floor. ‘I wouldn’t know anything about that?’
Eric sniffed heavily.
‘Listen, all I want is to get home. My wife’s pregnant and I need to get back to her.’
‘I’ve known a lot of liars, thieves, killers. I’ll ask again, what do you know about containment at the DSD centre?’
Magarth’s head fell into his hands. He shook his head.
‘Did something happen to the containment protocol?’
‘I’m not saying anything until you get me out of the city.’
Eric leaned forward, close enough to smell Magarth’s stale body odour. ‘We’re moving to the hospital. I need to know if I’m walking into something far worse than anticipated. You know what happened, don’t you?’
Magarth’s gaze lifted. ‘Get me safe, out of the city, and then I’ll talk.’
Eric snatched at Magarth’s collar. ‘One of my men died tonight because of you. One of my men, you understand?’ He pushed him back onto the bed. ‘You’ve got five minutes.’ He looked at his watch for emphasis, picked up his shotgun, then left the room, slamming the door behind.
Carter and Brutus waited on the landing.
‘Keep an eye on him, Brutus.’
Carter followed Eric down the stairs, out onto the street.
‘He knows something.’
‘Not talking?’
‘Let him stew for a few minutes. Have you tried to reach Captain Killian or Dr. Holden?’
‘The weather’s stuffing up communications. We’ve not heard from Command since we left.’
‘Keep trying.’
‘Why the big deal with the DSD guy?’
‘That doctor suspects the DSD containment system was tampered with. There’s no way the computer could have failed without human intervention.’
‘You think that guy upstairs knows something?’
‘He’s hiding something.’
‘Let Brutus have a moment with him. That’s his kind of business.’
Eric looked back to the house, up at the dark window of the bedroom. What choice did he have? ‘Have the men set up a perimeter on the house. I don’t want any surprises. We move out for the hospital as soon as Brutus gets us the information.’
***
Stacey lay in the dark. Pain hammered behind her eyes. It was the worst pain imaginable. She rolled over squeezing the pillow tight to her eyes.
‘Oh, God, please make it stop.’ She thumped the pillow.
Bright flashes burst behind her closed eyes. Fever blazed under her skin. She scratched at her palms, her fingers, her elbows, her long nails lacerating the length of her arms. What is happening to me?
She pulled herself from the bed, picked up the bedside lamp, threw it across the room. The globe shattered. A presence in her mind grew, dulling her thoughts. She could feel it, creeping, clawing, governing, and somehow she knew nothing could stop it. Her arms and legs shook, violently at first, then lessened to just a visible tremor. Thoughts of Gemma clouded her mind, random thoughts from the past, the distant past and from a day ago. From college, to a dinner date, to running through the streets of the city. Nothing mattered now. Her vision darkened and took her to another world. The Stacey she knew was gone, replaced by a hungry creature. Hungry for what?
The bedroom door opened.
That woman, Terri, peeked in. ‘I heard something. Is everything okay?’
She flew at Terri. Stiff hands gripped her neck, and then flung her to the floor. She struck the woman across the face, leaned down and bit deep into her neck, pulling free skin and muscle. The answer came; hungry for flesh! Through the door, the baby cried. The thing that had once been Stacey paced towards the crib.
***
Magarth thought he’d done well, not divulging anything or implicating himself in the containment leak. He was in a position of strength. He had something they wanted. He would trade that nugget of information once they got him the hell out of the city.
The door opened. They big guy they call Brutus entered with a smile. He doubted it was his real name, but he started with a ‘Hey, Brutus.’ Then his mouth ran with questions about when they were leaving the city, how, with who.
Brutus held up his hand for silence. He pulled off his tactical vest and coat and laid them on a desk in the corner. He wore a black sleeveless shirt that revealed tattoo-covered arms, the detail of biceps and triceps lost in the swirling patterns. Next, he pulled off his hat and smoothed back his short Mohawk. Brutus was a real brute. His dog tags hung over his top. He pulled them up to his neck and dropped them beneath. Magarth suddenly tasted fear on his tongue.
‘When are we leaving … Brutus?’ he asked again, his tone lacking any hint of con
fidence.
The brute grabbed hold of Magarth’s coat and hauled him off his feet. It felt like being pulled by wild horses. He flew across the room, crashing into the shelves of Lego.
‘Please! Wait!’
Brutus picked him up by the shirt. Two hard and fast punches snapped his nose, and an elbow crunched his cheek. Magarth whimpered.
‘I think we understand each other now, little man. What do you know about the DSD centre?’ There was no angst in the tone. Brutus could have been fixing his mother a cup of coffee.
‘Nothing.’ Magarth wiped at the blood running from his nostrils.
‘Mate, I can do this all night. Can you? One last time, what do you know?’
Magarth shook his head.
Brutus smiled. ‘We’re in for a long one then.’
He pushed Magarth to the floor, and then stepped on his wrist. The weight was immense. Magarth cried out. Brutus took hold of his index finger.
‘Last chance.’ He immediately wrenched the finger upwards, the break sounding as a pop.
Magarth screamed.
‘You’ve got nine other fingers. I’ll break each and every one, you understand?’ The other boot pressed on his chest. Brutus stood there like a well-balanced surfer.
Magarth’s breath grew shallow, frighteningly shallow.
‘I’ll beat you until sunset tomorrow if I have to.’
‘The containment,’ rasped Magarth. ‘You want to know about the containment at the DSD building.’
‘Talk.’
The weight left Magarth’s chest. The boot on his wrist tightened.
‘Someone altered the computer’s protocols.’
‘And?’
‘And opened the containment tank.’
‘More talk.’
‘Peterson.’
‘Who else knows about Peterson?’
‘Solomon, but he died in the breach. I swear.’
The boot fell heavier. ‘Who else?’
‘I swear, no one else.’
His wrist was freed. Brutus pulled an eight-inch knife from his belt. He turned it in his hand, smiling at its contour.
Magarth’s gaze followed the blade as the solider touched it to his cheek. ‘No, please. Please, I swear.’ Tears came with gulps. ‘No one else knows. No one.’
Brutus picked him up with one great heave and pushed him onto the bed. He knelt over him, the knifepoint just below Magarth’s right eye.
‘Here’s how it’s going to work, Tim. May I call you Tim? You’re not going to mention anything about Peterson breaching the containment to anyone. Not one single person. You understand?’
Magarth blinked, the only response he could make.
‘Just got to keep your mouth shut. You know why?’
The blade moved from his eye, and touched his ear, the sharp edge cutting the skin. He sucked in air between his teeth, and felt a trickle of blood at his neck and a warmth at his crotch.
Brutus grabbed Magarth’s hair, tight, painful. ‘Because if you so much as breathe a word to anyone, I’ll cut your spine from your back and deliver it to your wife. What’s her name? Maria? I’ll deliver something else to her, too.’ The knife moved. He tapped at Magarth’s wet crotch. ‘Do you understand? Speak.’
‘Yes,’ he squeaked.
‘Do you think I’m a man of my word?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You and I will get along just fine.’ He sheathed his knife, and replaced his hat, coat, and tactical vest.
Magarth cradled his broken finger.
Brutus winked and left the room with a laugh.
He was a man of his word, of that, Magarth was sure.
***
From the perimeter, two infected could be seen wandering into the area. They were swiftly taken down. Eric was impressed with the efficiency. Brutus marched out of the house.
Eric met him halfway. ‘So?’
‘You were right, containment at the DSD was compromised. He doesn’t know how or why. He’s scared and just wants to get home.’
Brutus’s tone held no severity.
‘How bad did you hurt him?’
‘As was necessary.’ Brutus looked up at the falling snow. ‘Does it ever stop?’ He pulled a cigar from his inside pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it up, his hand sheltering the flame.
‘We’re moving out.’
‘About time.’ Brutus marched off towards the truck, the smoke from his cigar whipped away on the wind.
The two infected were moved into the house, no less violently than the last lot. Eric waved Carter up the stairs to retrieve Magarth.
When he returned, Carter asked, ‘Was minimal visible damage part of your orders?’
Magarth’s face was a wreck.
Eric spat at the ground. Thoughts flew through his mind. ‘Idiot should have talked earlier,’ is all he said, then to his men, ‘Alright, boys. Wrap it up. We’re moving out!’
***
PC Galloway and Jane pulled another bed to the door. They heaved it onto the rest of the pile.
‘It’s not going to hold forever,’ said Jane.
‘No.’ PC Galloway’s eyes played wildly across the mishmash of furniture, their only hope, or was it?
‘You’re thinking something.’
‘They’re attracted to noise, right? So, if I make as much noise as possible here, I’ll draw the attention of any infected lurking elsewhere.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then the patients and nurses can slip out the far exit.’
‘It might work. I’ll stay with you. I’ll help make the noise.’
He turned to her. ‘You can’t. I’ll ask one of the men, one of the doctors to stay.’
‘They won’t help you. They’re scared. They want out of here.’
‘What about you?’
She gave him a weak smile. It contained little hope. ‘I’ve got you to look after me.’
***
A RAF Chinook and a Puma helicopter sat in the grounds of the hospital. Snow piled up against their frames. A windsock indicated a landing pad was nearby.
Eric held up his fist, bringing his men to a halt. They crouched in the snow. Carter appeared next to him, pulling Magarth down with him. Since leaving the hospital, Eric’s twelve-man team came across three groups of infected. They were subdued and left convulsing in the snow. There was no other option, and each time, Eric’s men pressed forward.
‘What do you make of that?’ Carter chewed noisily on gum.
‘We knew advanced army units were sent here.’
‘Would they have left the choppers like that?’
‘Maybe the weather grounded them. I doubt much could fly in this. You made contact with the rest of our guys?’
‘No radio contact.’
Eric would not voice the concern he held. ‘We check out the birds, and then move up to the rendezvous point.’
He waved his men towards the machines.
No movement. No signs of life.
Eric brought his shotgun to the ready. Flanked by his men he approached the Chinook. Their footfall was light, their steps measured and controlled, a movement well practised. The rear ramp was down. Inside, a hell. Soldiers lay on the deck, guts torn open, arms and legs missing, heads caved in. A lone ear sat on the rim of a seat. Five men, victims of unspeakable violence. Eric choked down bile.
Brutus marched past and boarded the aircraft. He knelt over the first body. ‘Special Forces. Didn’t have much luck.’
‘Perimeter,’ Eric yelled to his men, and eyes and guns were immediately trained to the distance.
Eric joined Brutus. The big man pulled an MP5 sub-machine gun free from a dead soldier’s clenched fist, one of the few still attached to an arm. A long silencer was screwed to the end of the barrel.
Brutus loaded the weapon making it ready, and then clicked the weapon off. ‘Don’t know about you lot, but I feel much safer now.’
One of Eric’s men, Niles, waved him over. Beneath the snow, a frigid hand stuc
k out like a leafless plant.
‘They’re everywhere.’ Niles pointed to half a dozen spots where body parts poked through the white.
‘All dead?’ asked Eric.
‘Couldn’t survive that, surely.’ Niles pulled an MP5 from one buried body, shook it free of snow.
‘Search the area. Strip the dead of their weapons. Take all the magazines and silencers.’
‘What about the bodies?’
‘When the army arrives they can clean up. We’ve got to get to the rendezvous point.’
Eric scored a machine gun and six spare magazines. ‘Live fire from now, boys. No more of that soft nonsense.’
Brutus stepped from the Puma, patting an M249 SAW he held in his hands. ‘I’m in love.’
‘Radios?’ asked Eric.
‘Damaged, won’t transmit. One of those crazy infected must have went mental in there. Same in the Chinook. They’re not flying anywhere.’
‘Eric,’ said Carter, ‘the natives are gathering.’
Down the street, a shambling group approached. Not alerted to Black Aquila’s presence, they ambled along the road.
‘Move out!’
The men exited the area at a quick pace.
***
Some way back, Gemma’s ankle went from beneath her. A horn sounded in the city, close, but she could not tell from which direction. Gemma hobbled past a bungalow. The door sat open, screams came from inside, not from the infected, but fearful screams. She had to avoid noise. Magarth told her that much. A sign appeared. Hospital. Almost there. She had driven the road many times on the way to work. I can make it, she thought. Just a little further.
***
They bent like sickly spectres just risen from tombs, picking over the bodies of the slain Black Aquila operatives. Twenty or more infected men, women and children, beating the corpses or feasting on their flesh. So many friends lay there. So many deaths on Eric’s hands. He looked around to Magarth. The idiot rocked silently on his knees. If not for his interruption, Eric’s men would not be dead, they’d be whole, they’d be alive, and they’d be at their rendezvous point. Where was the army? He raged mutely at anything and everything.
Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City Page 20