Plague War: Pandemic

by Alister Hodge

  ‘We need to lock the doors and get out of sight before the Infected arrive,’ said Erin.

  The chef looked grim as she nodded her agreement. Erin closed the door and turned the lock to secure it, then ran back to where she had left the group of kids around a corner of the hallway. After a quick head count, she breathed a sigh of relief that all the children were present.

  ‘Everyone follow me, we’re heading to the...’ said Erin before being cut off.

  ‘Shit, someone’s at the front door again!’ said the chef. ‘If there are any Carriers with them, they’ll smash through the glass – then the whole building’s compromised. We need to prioritise the kids, whoever’s there will have to take their own chances on the outside.’

  ***

  Lieutenant Bourke stamped his feet in the sand dunes, trying to bring back some sensation to his frozen toes. The storm had blown itself out two hours prior, but not before it had sunk the cruise liner. The split in the hull had extended past the water line earlier in the night, and within the space of ten minutes the ship had dropped below the surface. Now only the smoke stacks and captain’s bridge peaked above the waves next to the headland.

  Bourke looked inland to the east for any sign of dawn and was rewarded with the barest lightening of the horizon. His gut told him it was only a matter of time until the Infected started to arrive on shore from the wreck. The only question was the numbers they arrived in. If they held off for another hour, he’d at least be able to coordinate a defence in the daylight. Fighting humans at night was confusing and nightmarish enough, let alone taking on soulless ghouls that refused to acknowledge their own deaths.

  He’d laid a series of Claymores above the tide line two days prior. Once detonated, the mines would spray a vicious hail of steel balls towards the enemy. He knew the mines would be virtually useless in killing any of the lifeless ghouls, the chance of a head shot from an un-aimed blast was small, but it would serve to slow a few down with traumatic amputations. On seeing the ship sink, he’d consolidated a defensive line along the front of the camp. As far as he saw it, their only chance was to take out the Infected as they emerged from the water. If they were forced back into the camp, the haphazard layout of tents and buildings would make it near impossible to enforce a cohesive defence.

  One of his men approached, a tense expression on his face. ‘Sir, they’re coming.’

  Bourke gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, part of him glad that the wait was over. He turned to his aide, ‘Call back the last skeleton crew at the main building. I want everyone here ASAP.’

  Bourke followed the soldier back to his initial position. His men were spread out along the top of the sand dunes, most lying prone with rifles aimed at the shoreline. He took a knee to decrease his profile and looked into the waves where the soldier pointed. His eyes flicked about the whitewash for a few moments, then his heart stuttered. A black figure rose above the water, clumsily regaining its feet after being knocked over by a wave and staggered out onto the sand. Movement further out in the water now caught Bourke’s eyes, and looking past the Carrier, he found it was the first of a swarm emerging from the depths. Dark figures rose on lurching steps out of the surf, water streaming from sodden hair and torn clothes.

  ‘Send up a flare, let’s get a proper look at these bastards,’ commanded Bourke.

  The soldier loaded a wide barrelled gun, aimed upwards and fired. The flare arced high into the air and burst into brilliant white. For a few moments, the beach and water were illuminated in harsh light, exposing the sheer enormity of terror descending on the camp. Carriers that had reached the shore further along the coast were staggering along the beach, and hundreds more were emerging from the water to their front. In Bourke’s heart, he knew the fight was lost already. There were just too many for his small force to overcome.

  Within the last few moments, the beach directly in front had filled with a milling crowd of mangled limbs and torn flesh. Bourke picked up the firing mechanism for the Claymores, took a breath and depressed its button. The front of the mine exploded outwards in a burst of flame, a hail of steel balls punching through dead flesh, smacking down Carriers like an invisible battering ram. Bourke’s ears rang from the blast as he surveyed the damage achieved. A few corpses remained where they lay, but all too many clawed their way back upright. Some crawled forward, legs torn free or shredded beyond the point of carrying weight. Globs of tissue littered the damp sand, but most surreal of all, was the lack of blood. The beach should have been awash, dripping with carmine fluid, and yet the wounds remained dry.

  A focus provided for their hatred, all Infected on the beach now turned in his direction, faces contorted with rage. Mouths opening as one, they emitted an animalistic scream and attacked. Bourke’s mouth had dried of spit, his hands unsteady as he snatched up the firing mechanisms for the other two Claymores and set them off in rapid succession, cutting down two more swathes of mindless killers.

  ‘Open fire!’ screamed Bourke, as he raised his rifle, picked out a target and fired. All along the line at the top of the dunes, the guards opened up, spitting a lethal stream of bullets at the Carriers. Bullets whined through the air, punching through tissue and bone, tearing skulls apart to spatter brains in a vile rain on the sand.

  And still they came. Bourke took a split second to observe the distance between his men and the closing enemy. His soldiers’ aim was reasonable; many head shots were hitting home, but far too many were missing. Habit was hard to break, and most of his men had trained years to aim for centre of mass, the chest where any shot could achieve death via trauma to heart, lungs or major vessels. Against the Carrier, these shots were useless, merely twitching the body as the round passed through or at best, momentarily knocking them off their feet.

  There was less than fifteen metres separating them now, he had no choice but to retreat into the camp. He’d already seen three men abandon their mates and run, while many of those remaining were inching backwards. If he left it any longer he wouldn’t have anyone left to lead.

  ‘Get back behind the fence line and re-group!’ ordered Bourke, his voice hoarse as he yelled.

  The remaining men didn’t need to be asked twice. They retreated backwards, maintaining a steady rate of fire on the Infected that surged after them. The guards sprinted through the one small gate in the fence line, then slammed it closed. Bourke jammed the simple steel locking mechanism home then jerked backward out of reach as the first Carrier threw itself against the fence’s wire lattice.

  He joined his men twenty metres back where they had formed a simple line, firing upon the ghouls on the other side. Sparks flew from the steel wire as occasional bullets ricocheted off the fence and onward into the dead flesh beyond.

  Behind him the camp was in turmoil as terrified people left their tents and buildings and ran for their lives. The fence began to bow inwards under sheer weight of numbers, too many for Bourke’s small force to keep at bay. Individual strands of wire began to snap, destroying the structural integrity of the entire barrier. Suddenly a twenty-metre section of steel wire burst free from its upper margin, spilling a mass of Carriers into the campgrounds.

  Bourke swore violently to himself. He’d lost, and now was left with a decision that he knew would condemn any civilian to death that had chosen to stay hidden in their tent or demountable. Bourke waved his men back to begin a fighting retreat toward the main building as he picked up his radio and called to the Navy Frigate off shore.

  ‘I need artillery support on my current location,’ he requested, voice hoarse.

  ‘Your satellite position is within the camp. Please confirm you are requesting a direct strike on your current location,’ answered a stressed sounding voice on the other end of the line.

  ‘The fence line is breached. My current location will be overrun by the Carriers in moments. Our only hope is to stop them here. Give me five minutes to get my men to the other side of the main building, then raise the campsite to the ground.’

/>   There was a brief pause as the communications soldier gained authorisation. ‘Affirmative. You have five minutes until launch.’

  Bourke’s heart raced as he clipped his radio handset back to his chest, still not quite believing what he had just requested. As the following Infected reached the tents, some broke off their chase of the soldiers, instead ripping through fabric walls to find the source of crying within. Soon agonised screams of victims mingled with the harsh snarls of feeding Infected, an orgy of violence amongst the maze of temporary structures. One tent had caught fire, spiralling inky smoke before the moon and backlighting feeding ghouls before it, uncaring of their own clothes that smoked from the intense heat nearby.

  ‘Follow me, we have only a couple of minutes to reach the main building,’ said Bourke, making sure his men followed as he set off at a jog down one of the few sealed roads through the complex. Carriers had progressed through the camp, their rate of movement increasing as they thawed away from the icy waters of Bass Strait and were sent into frenzy at the availability of fresh meat.

  Bourke raised his gun, blasting half a skull free of a ghoul crouching over a young boy. He was too late to be of help, the child’s throat was already torn free, a cavernous hole where the boy’s trachea should have been. Bourke averted his eyes from the child, not wanting to see the drum beat of his feet in the dirt as life faded.

  The main building was now in sight, deserted of life. His men formed a quick defensive semi-circle, firing into the camp as he tried the handle. Locked. He fumbled automatically in his pocket for his master set of keys before remembering they’d gone missing the week before. Bourke hammered on the glass.

  ‘Open the door!’ he yelled, searching for movement down the hallway ahead. Nothing. He looked back over his shoulder and past the guards behind, his pulse racing at the sight of the Infected closing in, drawn by the tight knot of men.

  Erin looked at the chef, aghast at the thought of abandoning anyone to such a death if there was a possibility of it being prevented.

  ‘You take the kids and run. I’ll meet you at the kitchen,’ she said while checking that a round was chambered in her pistol. The chef gave her a hard look for a moment, then turned away.

  ‘All right children, you’re with me now. It’s a race to the kitchen, let’s go!’ said the older woman, taking off after the kids with an arthritic shamble. Erin took a shuddering breath and ran back down the hallway and up to the front door and saw with relief that it was Lieutenant Bourke behind the glass. She punched the emergency release button for the electronic lock and the doors sprang open, allowing the soldiers in. Two remained at the door, firing rapidly at the approaching circle of ghouls.

  Bourke immediately grabbed her by the arm, pulling her closer so he could talk quickly. ‘We need to get away from this side of the building; the navy will be bombing the camp any minute. Where’s the majority of people, did anyone seek shelter here?’

  Erin nodded, ‘Most have run to the dining room at the back.’

  Bourke let her go and turned back to his men, ‘Lock the doors again, time to get moving.’

  Something to the right of the entrance caught Erin’s eye. The Carriers to that side collapsed, heads destroyed from behind. Suddenly Jeremy and another guard ran over the top of their bodies, sprinting for the entrance before it was locked.

  One of Bourke’s soldiers held the door open a crack, drew them inside and slammed it shut behind, twisting the lock home. Jeremy doubled over, heaving as he tried to recover his breath. Carriers smacked up against the thickened glass panels behind, wretched faces screaming as they hammered at the obstruction.

  ‘Where the hell were you?’ demanded Bourke, only now realising that he hadn’t seen him throughout the whole length of the fight.

  ‘We got separated,’ started Jeremy between breaths, ‘as we fell back into the camp from the dunes.’

  Bourke grimaced, clearly not believing a word. ‘We have to move. Follow me,’ he said, turning away from him and dismissing the topic for the moment.

  As Erin watched, she saw a corner of Jeremy’s mouth hook sideways in a sneer. Then he caught sight of her, and his face broke into a wide grin.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten about you, Princess,’ he said, sidling past her after his Lieutenant. ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you’re dead and cold before those filthy plague carriers start ripping you apart. After all, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun!’ he said, giving a short hard laugh as he ran onwards, leaving her behind.

  White knuckles showed as Erin gripped her pistol, furiously wanting to raise it and fire into the centre of the coward’s back. She bit her tongue, using the pain to break her thoughts and draw her back to reality. Jeremy was a peripheral problem for the minute, she still needed to get back to the kids and make sure they were safe. It wouldn’t take long for the Carriers outside to break through and follow them. She clenched her jaw and joined the soldiers in a sprint to join the other survivors.

  Outside, the sun was just starting to crack over the horizon as the first artillery shell launched from the Frigate, arching into the sky with a harsh whistle before it smashed down amongst the tents and Infected to explode with shocking devastation. The shells fell in rapid succession, blasts making the earth shudder. The glass along the building front shattered from the concussion waves, and those Carriers left moving, dragged themselves into the building to continue their chase.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At the combat briefing, Mark had drawn the short straw amongst a huddle of officers. As such, his platoon was assigned the task of drawing the swarm from the town’s centre. He’d returned to his squad after the briefing at 4.00 AM to deliver the news.

  ‘Unfortunately, we’re stuck playing the role of a juicy steak to entice the Infected onto our walls,’ he said, deepened creases about his eyes the only sign of stress as he spoke. ‘It should be low risk enough, a crew of three needs to drive a ute into town, get the attention of the swarm and lead them back here for slaughter. Your Corporals, Nate and Vinh have already both volunteered, but I can only let one NCO go on this job – Nate won the coin toss. That means I need two more volunteers to join them.’

  Steph saw Jai subtly shaking his head in her peripheral vision but chose to ignore him.

  ‘I’ll go,’ she said, hoisting herself off the ground.

  Jai grunted and stood up, his face wiped clean of emotion as he walked to the front to join her. Mark looked furious as he accepted their self-nominations. She knew he had no choice; to refuse their help could only be interpreted negatively; favouritism in protecting his close friends from overt danger, or a humiliating lack of confidence in their abilities.

  Steph deliberately avoided any conversation with him afterwards, acutely aware of his eyes tracking her preparations, concern plain on his features after his initial anger cooled. After gaining a few short words of encouragement from different members of the platoon, she left the group behind and walked outside into a pre-dawn greyness with Jai, Nate and Mark to finish preparation of the ute. A 4WD Hilux twin-cab was parked directly behind the high main gate. She and Jai dumped a crate each of pre-loaded Austeyr magazines into the tray. Nate reached in the driver’s door, flicked a latch to release the hood, then started to run through a quick check of oil and brake fluids.

  Mark, now alone with his two friends, asked the question that Steph knew had been on his lips since the meeting.

  ‘Why the hell did you volunteer?’

  ‘If I’m going to survive in this army, I need to be taken seriously, Mark,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, I know what both of you can do – you’re better fighters than half the men in there,’ he said, pointing back to where they’d left the rest of the platoon. ‘There’s no need to prove yourselves to me.’

  ‘No, not you, Mark, but I need to convince the rest of the squad. They see me as a chick that’s just making up the numbers. All I’ve had so far is creepy attempts at flirting and offers to keep me
warm at night. Half of them are marines that haven’t seen a woman in months.’

  ‘Has anyone hurt you?’ asked Mark.

  ‘No, it’s just banter at this stage, but in this sort of place, how do I know that’s not going to change? They need to see me as a soldier, as an equal that’s as tough as they are. They wouldn’t try that sort of shit on with someone they respected, and if I’m not seen as a mate, they need to know that I’m violent enough to cut their balls off if they try something I don’t want.’

  Mark looked at her uncertainly, like he didn’t know how to respond.

  ‘Look, I joined to fight. I want my only concern to be the Infected, not some dickhead behind me.’

  Mark sighed, ‘Ok, I had no idea. Promise you’ll tell me if things start to get out of hand from the men and I’ll stamp it out bloody quick.’

  Steph gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand in thanks. ‘You’re a good man, Mark. If you weren’t so distracted with keeping us all alive, you’d see what’s standing right in front of you a little more easily.’

  Mark turned to Jai who was trying to look like he wasn’t listening to their conversation. ‘So, what’s your excuse?’

  Jai just gave him a quizzical look. ‘Isn’t it obvious? If Steph’s out there, I need to be there to protect her back. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.’

  ‘Just don’t take any major risks,’ said Mark.

  Nate finished up under the hood and slammed it down hard before joining the trio. ‘We ready then?’

  Around them, soldiers were beginning to crunch past on the gravel path, heading to the walls in readiness for the battle to come.

  ‘If all your kit’s checked, then you’re fit to go,’ said Mark.

  Jai jumped up onto the ute’s tray and ran through the speaker set up. A large amp had been rigged up to the vehicle’s power and attached to an iPod. He flicked on the power, cranked the volume and hit play. Music blasted for a split second before Jai turned it off again. ‘All good here,’ he said.