Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City

by Duncan, M. W.

  Niles and the woman were lost.

  Eric kept going, his legs aching with adrenaline. The group gained the door and spilled outside. He followed. Black Aquila operatives herded the group away from the entrance. Brutus stood with a smile, an unlit cigar hanging from his mouth. He waved at Eric, pointing to him to move aside. Eric threw himself down into the slushy snow. The first infected burst from the doorway into the forecourt.

  Brutus raised the M249 to his shoulder and let rip, the high velocity rounds laying waste to the pursuing mass. Bodies, burst apart, pieces falling into piles. Brutus moved forward, finishing off the last of the enemy. He spat the cigar out, pulled his Glock free and started firing into the heads.

  Eric got to his feet. ‘Carter, get them loaded on the trucks.’

  The engines burst into life.

  Eric spotted Magarth cowering behind one of the trucks. Carter ran back to Eric, pointing over his shoulder. Eric turned. On the high verge where the DSD building lay, an army of shadows stood, watching. The infected from the DSD building. All of them. Brutus’s gunfire and the engines must have drawn them out.

  ‘Get the trucks out of here. We’ll cover.’

  ‘We don’t have enough men for that.’

  ‘Two men to each truck,’ said Eric. ‘The rest will hold them back.’

  ‘Eric, it’s a death sentence.’

  ‘So, what do we do? Leave the patients here to die?’

  ‘Here they come,’ said Brutus. He reloaded and cocked the weapon.

  The creatures surged down the hill.

  ‘Hold the line,’ shouted Eric. He dropped his MP5 and pulled out his Glock.

  Hundreds ran towards them, more than Black Aquila could hope to defeat. Eric’s men formed a defensive line, checked weapons and waited for the command.

  This was it, he thought. Martin, I’m coming. ‘Fire.’

  Brutus’s weapon boomed out, followed by the muted cracking of the MP5s. Eric fired his Glock. Many fell, but more charged. Brutus peeled off from the group, but Eric did not care. He slotted home another magazine and kept shooting. His mind raced to Jacqui. He would never see her or their children again. Bile threatened to rise. Somehow, he noticed the snow ceased falling. One operative disappeared under the press of infected. He seemed to fold like a ragdoll.

  ‘Back,’ he shouted.

  His team moved into a tight cluster. Carter said something but it was lost in the gunfire, the screams and the booming of his heart. The beleaguered defenders were forced into a circle, the monsters moving to surround them. Weapons clicked empty. Curses. Cries for help. Eric watched helplessly. One stepped forward from the throng, its eyes locked on Eric. Is that the face of death?

  They seemed almost organised, a herd of animals, only breaking their away to snatch another victim. Eric picked up the MP5, reversing the weapon to use it as a means to ward off their grasping hands.

  This is it. Won’t be long now, Martin.

  More of his men were pulled to their death, screaming. He wanted to apologise to Jacqui. He wanted tell Luke and Katie that he loved them.

  Eric battered away some seeking hands. Carter fell to the ground, wrestling an infected. A heavy blow struck Eric on the temple and he, too, fell.

  Above, coming out of the grey skies like defending angels, two Apache attack helicopters. They flew low, their powerful engines washing down. The infected looked up. The noise and commotion rendered Eric and the men invisible. Three Blackhawk’s hovered. Ropes fell from the crew compartment. Soldiers slid down, congregating under the birds, before fanning out. Gunfire and explosions erupted above and around him. Bodies fell, warmth splashed him. He covered his face with his arms, desperate to avoid the blood. Two huge explosions rocked the ground and the chain guns of the helicopters barked out.

  Carter’s voice broke through the din. ‘Eric. Look.’ He helped Eric to stand.

  All around, the infected were falling to the efficiency of the US Rangers. Ten, forty, eighty, two-hundred, and more. They were all neutralised.

  Eric and Carter backed right away.

  ‘I thought we were dead, Carter, I really did.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  ‘Where did Brutus go?’

  ‘He took off after the DSD guy.’

  ‘Get our guys back here. See they’re alright. I’ll be right back.’

  ***

  Magarth bent double, hands on his knees to catch his breath. He followed the tyre tracks in the snow but the trucks were long gone. Just being near Brutus made him sick to his stomach. He needed to be away from that animal, away from the city, away from the craziness.

  Some of the Black Aquila had been talking about The Grotto in the centre of town. If he could get there then things would be alright. From there he could get out, get to safety, and get home to Maria.

  Magarth straightened and forged on. To his left, a wooded thicket separating a residential area and a carpark. He took shelter by the trees, and the snow swallowed his feet to just below the knee.

  ‘Run, piggy. Run.’ Brutus. He shook a stiff finger his way. ‘You shouldn’t have run. We were supposed to have a little chat before I let you out of the city, and I would have.’ He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘Now, I’m going to have to kill you.’

  Magarth’s arms shot out. ‘No. Please. You don’t have to do this. I won’t say a word. I swear. I’ve got a wife. Maria needs me. We have a child on the way. Please.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have run.’

  Chapter 17

  Turning To Tomorrow

  The houses stood empty, doors open like silent crypts. The snow stopped for the first time in a week. Gemma’s ankle burned, her legs threatened to give way. Ahead, a carpark, a small grouping of trees, and two shadows not jittering or charging wildly. They seemed to be talking. She could not make it to the hospital on her own, exhausted, in pain. She needed help.

  The larger of the two men, a solider by all appearances, wrapped an arm around the shorter man’s neck, applying a form of sleeper-hold. This was no friendly exchange. She squatted low beside the first tree she reached. The shorter man squirmed, his balled fist striking at the arm around his neck, but still the solider clung on.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. The smaller man was Tim. His eyes were wide, his face darkening. His tongue slipped from his mouth and he croaked. She pulled her camera up and snapped. The soldier raised his free hand, as a long knife reversed in his grip, and with a fast movement, Tim’s throat was cut. He slumped to the ground. Gemma screamed.

  The soldier smiled. His big boots ploughed through the snow and headed her way. ‘It’s alright, missy. I’m with Black Aquila. That one was infected.’

  ‘No he wasn’t.’ Gemma still had hold of the camera and took more snaps.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘Don’t come any closer. I’ll scream.’

  ‘You already did. Now, give me the camera.’

  ‘You’ll kill me anyway.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re right.’

  Gemma screamed for her life.

  ***

  Eric heard the scream, not as the infected’s cries, this was human, full of terror. He raced towards the sound. It came again, followed by gunshots. Eric leapt across the top of the bonnet of a parked car and landed in deep snow. He headed towards the trees. He could see Brutus, clutching a woman by the arm, firing his handgun at a stream of infected coming from the houses. His expert aim knocked them down one by one. So controlled was his action, he could have been firing at the shooting range. Brutus was born to war. He reloaded and shot down the last two.

  Magarth’s body lay a short distance from Brutus and the girl. ‘What’s going on, Brutus?’

  With a smirk, the big man scratched his head, then pulled the girl close, wrapping his arm over her shoulder and down her chest.

  ‘We needed him.’ Eric pointed to Magarth’s body.

  ‘You couldn’t just stay away, could you, Eric. You’re full of questions, always wa
nting to know things that don’t concern you, and look where we’ve ended up. A city, gone to hell, thousands dead, and you’re worried about one snivelling little coward.’

  ‘I’m worried about what’s going on with you.’ He pointed to the girl trapped in Brutus’s hold. ‘Who’s the girl?’

  ‘Just another setback. See, that’s your problem, you don’t have the brains to know when to keep quiet and shut up. I didn’t want to have to kill you, for Martin’s sake, but now.’ Brutus raised his Glock.

  Eric dropped and rolled, pulling his own handgun free. He sheltered behind a tree, weapon ready. Brutus lost his opportunity.

  ‘Here’s how it’s going to work, Eric. You come out with your hands up, and I let this pretty lady go. Just you and me.’

  ‘Not gonna happen, Brutus.’

  ‘When you asked me about Toth, I thought you’d ruined our little plan for sure.’

  ‘What plan?’

  ‘Come on, Eric. You know there’s forces at play here bigger than Aquila or even the army. I’m working for the other guys.’

  ‘The communications?’

  Brutus laughed. ‘Yep, that was me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we need this crisis to endure and spread.’

  Brutus fired a shot into the tree. The girl screamed.

  ‘Look, Eric. Look and see what you’ve done.’

  Eric popped his head out from behind the tree, just enough to see Brutus’s Glock pressed to her head. ‘Last chance, mate.’

  Eric did not have a clear shot. ‘What makes you think I won’t shoot you after you kill her? She’s nothing to me. Collateral.’

  ‘You’re not a killer, Eric, but I am. Tick tock. Last chance.’

  The girl’s hand inched closer to her leg, pulled something from her boot, and with a scream thrust it upwards. A knife! The blade sliced through Brutus’s thick beard, up along his cheek and travelled over his left eye. He let out a guttural roar, kicking the girl away. Brutus touched his face, stemming the blood.

  Eric fired. The round punctured Brutus’s arm. His weapon empty, Eric raced over. The two men grappled. Eric was forced to his knees as Brutus struggled to bring the Glock around to Eric’s face.

  Eric pushed forward, giving him the scant movement needed to reach Brutus’s arm. He bit into the flesh, as hard as he could and tasted blood. The weapon slipped down into the snow. Brutus moaned low, and beat Eric about the head with the edge of his hand. Eric crumpled, the fight gone from him. Strong hands reached down, grasping his neck, choking him. Hot splashes, blood from his cut dripped onto Eric’s face. His vision clouded, narrowing until all he saw was the sky above.

  ‘Get the hell off him.’

  The hands disappeared and Eric gasped for breath.

  The girl held Brutus’s handgun. ‘I’ll shoot you.’

  Brutus backed away from Eric. ‘Come on, now.’ He threw a handful of snow at her. She fired, round after round until the chamber sprang back. None of the shots hit their target. Brutus took off.

  Eric dragged himself to his feet. The girl’s eyes were glassy, and she mumbled something. Eric gently pried the Glock from her hands.

  ‘Did he hurt you?’

  She shook her head.

  He slipped the gun into his vest. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Gemma.’ She started to shake.

  ‘What are you doing out here on your own?’

  ‘Trying to get a story.’

  ‘You’re safe now. We’re both safe.’

  Yes, we’re both safe. Well, Martin, it seems not today. Not today.

  ***

  Night had fallen by the time the US Rangers removed Black Aquila from the danger zone, and back to their hotel. Eric knocked at Ben Williamson’s room and did not wait for an invitation. Williamson sat on a sofa, laptop on his knee, glass of red wine in his hand.

  ‘Eric, glad you’re here.’

  Eric threw a stiff punch at his boss’s face. Red wine flew. Eric seized him by the collar. ‘All those men are dead because you and Brutus are playing games. What the hell is going on?’

  ‘It’s not me. It’s Brutus. He’s been screwing with all of us.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘Brutus played the lot of us, sabotaged the mission. I can prove it. Look.’ Williamson gestured to his laptop.

  ‘I lost a lot of men out there.’

  ‘They were my men, too, Eric. My men.’

  Eric released his grip.

  Williamson tapped at a few buttons. ‘This is the manifest for all the equipment we brought with us. Look at the communications systems.’

  Eric scanned down the list. Satellite telephones, improved radio systems, and tablet computers. All of which were missing from the load out.

  ‘I checked our equipment, and all of this is still in storage downstairs. It was Brutus who was in charge of distribution.’

  ‘You didn’t think to check up on him?’

  ‘Check up on him? Why should I? I suspected nothing.’

  ‘He said something about a plan. Him and Andor Toth.’

  ‘Toth?’

  ‘Yeah, Toth. How many men did we lose?’

  ‘Six from The Grotto. And all but eight from the men you took to the hospital.’

  ‘Jesus,’ muttered Eric.

  ‘It’s a wonder any of you came out alive.’ Williamson opened his mouth wide and stretched his jaw. He rubbed at the right side, the place Eric planted the punch.

  ‘We have to get Brutus. We have to stop him.’

  ‘I agree, and to do that, I need you to do something for me. Actually, I need you to fetch a couple of people for me.’

  ***

  Eric travelled to another hotel near the airport. After a knock, the door opened, and the bent form of Dr. Holden appeared tying his robe closed.

  Dr. Holden popped his glasses on. ‘Mr. Mann. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Men are coming to take you. You won’t understand, but Ben Williamson sent me to fetch you before they got to you.’

  ‘I see.’ Dr. Holden seemed to consider things. ‘Let me just get a few things.’

  ‘No time.’ Eric snatched a coat hanging on the wall and closed the door.

  ‘Mr. Mann!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Doc. We don’t have time to stand about chatting. Williamson will explain everything to you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you can tell me who these men are that are supposed to come and get me?’

  ‘No.’

  At the bottom of the stairwell, Eric pushed open the door, just enough to see into the lobby. Four men in black combat gear marched past. The lift doors closed. ‘That was your entourage, Doctor.’

  They slipped out of the hotel and into a car, and sped to another hotel on the opposite side of the airport.

  Dr. Holden’s steps were slower than Eric’s. ‘Did you find or hear of Tim Magarth, the DSD staff member?’ Out in the field, when Eric first met Magarth that name was familiar, yet, he could not place from where. Now, Dr. Holden’s pleas at the briefing flooded back. Eric’s hand sunk into his coat pocket, feeling the DSD ID badge.

  ‘No. We never came across him.’

  Carter approached.

  ‘Carter here will take you to Ben Williamson.’

  They left.

  Eric pulled the badge from his pocket. He turned it over in his hands then threw it far off into the field beyond the hotel car park. Some things were best left in the past.

  ***

  Gemma lay in a bed in the displacement centre. She was surrounded by a sea of bewildered humanity, all searching for sanctuary from the city. The bed was little more than canvas over a frame. She found it difficult to find comfort. An army liaison officer had asked her a few questions before assigning her the bed. She was careful not to mention her role as a journalist.

  Gemma rolled to her side and closed her eyes. Her thoughts went to Stacey and Terri. She had tried calling her mobile but communications were still impossible. Stacey will be a
lright, she told herself, but she knew she lied.

  ‘Hello again.’

  Gemma opened her eyes. ‘I didn’t think I would see you again.’

  ‘Not the best accommodation here,’ said Eric.

  ‘I’ve seen better.’

  ‘I’ve seen worse. I’ve a proposition for you.’

  ‘For me?’

  ‘It’s not my offering you, I’m just the messenger. My boss knows you were gathering information about the situation in Aberdeen from its origins right through.’

  ‘How the hell does he know?’

  ‘He has a knack in knowing things. He wants you to hold off going public with anything you know or think you know. If you agree, he’ll meet with you tonight to go over some details.’

  ‘What’s in it for me?’

  Eric seemed to smile. ‘For one, you’ll be put up in a hotel. Two, you’ll be paid a weekly retainer. Three, you’ll eventually get to break the story. It’ll be the biggest of the year, I’m sure.’

  ‘If I don’t agree?’

  ‘I’d take your camera, phone, and any memory devices and smash them.’

  ‘You wouldn’t.’

  Eric shrugged.

  Gemma looked around the displacement centre, to the scared faces, to the rows of newly homeless lying beneath piles of old blankets with nothing to call their own but the clothes they wore. Then her mind travelled to the image of a real bed, a regular income, and the opportunity to break a huge story.

  ‘Alright, take me to him.’

  ‘Gather up your things. There’s a car waiting for us.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have smashed my camera and everything, would you?’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  ***

  Dr. Holden sat down on the sofa.

  ‘Thank you for coming here, Doctor,’ said Williamson.

  He felt naked in his pyjamas and robe. ‘I had little choice in the matter.’

  Williamson let out a chuckle. ‘May I speak frankly?’

  ‘You may.’