Plague War: Pandemic

by Alister Hodge

  Nate tried to reverse the truck, but the wedge stuck fast in the car, dragging the wreckage along with them. Flames licked up and over the engine and into the truck’s cabin, blistering Nate’s fingers as he held the steering wheel. It would only be a matter of minutes before the truck caught fire as well. Realising he was losing the battle, he changed tact and accelerated to the left, driving the truck hard up against the footpath so that the shop awnings came within leaping distance of the truck’s roof.

  ‘Jai, we need to get back to the cage. I’ll go first and then cover you once I get to the roof.’

  Jai nodded and edged over ready to support his escape. Nate shoved open the door, heaving against the crowd of reaching hands below. Jai leant forward, shooting rapidly into the nearest faces to make some room. Nate grabbed hold of the roof above the cabin and hauled himself upwards. From the press, a thick arm shot upwards and gripped his ankle. Nate’s eyes bulged in panic as he scrabbled on the smooth metal of the roof for purchase. With one savage tug, Nate was ripped free, falling backwards, limbs splayed onto the Infected below. For a brief moment, he crowd-surfed above the demonic press, his mouth open in voiceless terror, before vicious hands ripped him down to the ground, punching through fragile skin to spill his life in a welter of blood and gore.

  Jai tore his eyes away from his Corporal’s demise, panting in horror. He slammed the door shut and scrunched his face in pain at the fire licking into the cabin. He opened the passenger door a crack, firing rapidly into the crowd to open a space. After a deep breath, he launched himself up and outward, praying he would find a good grip immediately.

  In the cage behind, Mark felt like someone had just punched him in the guts. As flames overran the truck cabin and Nate was torn to shreds amongst the Infected, he knew the vehicle was lost. But his Corporal had just given them half a chance of escaping the mob by driving the truck within jumping distance of the awning. Mark climbed the ammunition crates and undid the locking mechanism to exit the cage, allowing the square manhole to swing down on its hinges.

  ‘Everyone out!’ he shouted. The rest of his squad looked at their officer scrambling through the roof with stunned expressions before they too realised the mounting danger and followed suit. Within moments the other manhole was opened at the rear of the truck, soldiers hauling each other up through the small gaps to stand unprotected on the roof.

  Mark ran to the front of the roof, his footing unstable on the springy wire surface. Jai was half onto the cabin roof, his left hand madly sweeping about for a hold as his feet kicked at the grasping hands below. Mark sprayed the Infected underneath Jai with automatic fire, punching rounds into faces, chests and arms; anything to knock them away from his young friend. It was enough of a reprieve for Jai to pull his whole body up and onto the cabin roof. He wasted little time in jumping over to join Mark on top of the cage.

  Mark placed a quick hand on his shoulder, worry plain on his face. ‘Did they get a bite out of you?’

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t think so, but it’ll have to wait – we need to get off this thing.’

  The kid was right. Mark briefly looked about the truck, his balls clenching in fear at the sight. Carriers were starting to climb the cage walls again, driven mad by soldiers that were now reachable. He lifted his rifle to his shoulder, taking quick aim and fired at the back of the truck. The first Carrier to reach the roof fell back, half its head blown away. However, there were more to replace it, too many.

  ‘I want everyone onto the awning, time to go,’ Mark commanded.

  Jai was the first to jump, clearing the one and a half metre distance with ease. The awning was three metres wide, a stiff platform overhanging the footpath to protect the shoppers of past years from rain and sun. It extended in an unbroken surface for the length of the block. Mark pulled Steph out of the cage with one hand then watched with concern as she launched herself across the gap. Jai was ready on the other side, steadying her as she landed and regained her footing. Satisfied his friends were safe for the moment, Mark turned his mind back to the rest of his squad, continuing to help pull people up from inside the cage.

  At the back of the truck, the rear opening was abandoned as Carriers were now within a metre of it, held back only by the constant fire of two soldiers bravely firing at all comers. One of the men stepped back as he changed a magazine and his foot turned on the uneven surface, falling onto the wire surface. The attention of his colleague was pulled for a fraction of a second, and it was enough to turn the tide. The Infected swarmed forward, briefly unchecked, diving through the manhole to the interior of the cage and remaining soldiers. Mark lost his grip of Ruth’s hand as a Carrier knocked the ammunition boxes from beneath her feet. Their access to the roof now out of arm’s reach, the four remaining soldiers backed up to the front corner of the cage as the rear end filled with Infected, dropping through the rear manhole unchecked.

  Ruth looked up once at Mark, grim horror filling her eyes. ‘Run! Get going while there’s still a chance!’ she cried. She turned away, raking the Infected before her with automatic fire before reversing a pistol and ending her own life. Mark couldn’t leave, firing down into the cage at the approaching Carriers in support of the last three men until they too were overcome. With bile rising at the back of his throat, Mark shot each of his men rather than leave them to be eaten alive.

  ‘Mark, you need to jump! We can’t hold them back much longer!’ shouted Steph.

  He tore his eyes away from his men that were being ripped apart in the cage beneath his feet. Infected were crawling across the roof toward him, now only a few metres away; broken teeth exposed, snapping convulsively in anticipation of the feast he would provide. Their bodies twitched as bullets fired by his surviving squad hit home. He backed up a step, and then launched himself across the gap. His right foot hit the corner of the awning and for a second his arms windmilled, his body arching as he desperately tried to gain balance. Steph and another soldier grabbed hold of his shirt and wrenched him forward to safety. Carriers immediately tried to copy, lurching forward in an attempt to clear the gap, only to fall harmlessly into the mosh pit of reaching arms beneath.

  The whole front of the truck was ablaze, fed by a hot breeze that gusted the flames up against the awning that had now also caught alight. The fire moved like metastasizing cancer, tendrils creeping across the paintwork to seed destruction in the building adjacent.

  ‘Is that the speaker set you talked about earlier, Mark?’ said Steph, grabbing his arm and pointing to a smashed steel box forty metres distant. With the focus on the truck, the sound attractant had been left by the Infected, exposed for the first time. The equipment was clearly damaged, the amps stuttering into life intermittently to release a scream. The Carriers had almost managed to reach the equipment enclosed within the mesh cage, one side torn open.

  ‘I think so. We need to shut it up for good,’ said Mark. He lifted his rifle, ignoring the blaze for a moment as he sighted and shot through the gap in the cage. The bullets ripped into the speaker, destroying the electrical workings. The recording cut out, destroyed.

  Mark led the remainder of his squad, jogging away from the fire and back in the direction from where they’d come. The mob of Carriers neglected to follow, turning their attention to the bodies that were being slowly barbecued in the back of the truck. After eighty metres, they ran out of awning. They were clear of Infected but had no way to reach the ground. The concrete was three metres below; far enough to guarantee someone would smash an ankle on impact. Exit through the adjacent building was also out of the question. The only windows opening onto the street were tantalisingly out of arm’s reach.

  Mark looked back, thinking of retreat in the other direction but the fire from the truck had taken hold, blocking any movement that way. The breeze was feeding the blaze, sweeping it up the walls of the shops and now towards their current location. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be forced to risk a bone-crushing jump to the ground.

  Mark uncli
pped his radio, his mind racing for options. He called Vinh first, but Carriers still swamped his Sergeant, giving no chance of him aiding an extraction in the time frame required. With little hope, Mark called the Fort and held a tense conversation with Command, before signing off and kicking the shop wall in frustration.

  ‘They haven’t got any backup to send, have they?’ asked Steph, her eyes searching Mark’s face.

  Mark gave a short barking laugh, his eyes lacking any humour. ‘Nah. The bastards aren’t sending us jack shit. We’re on our own, although I shouldn’t be fucking surprised. Resources on this job are spread razor thin.’

  ‘So, we get ourselves out,’ said Steph, her voice matter of fact. ‘Same as we’ve done since the plague broke.’

  Mark took a deep breath, drawing strength from her determination. He looked back towards the Carriers and the approaching fire. Their window of opportunity was rapidly closing; they needed to act now. ‘Ok, let’s make a rope. I want everyone’s rifle slings. Now!’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Dappled light fell across Erin’s knees in the rear lounge. Despite the sun’s warmth on her legs, she’d felt brittle and cold since her friends had left early in the morning. She leant forward from her perch on the couch and picked up her pistol from the coffee table, turning it slowly around to inspect the weapon as if it was new to her. A gun sitting on the table amongst other items of daily life had become the norm, but occasionally it still yanked at something deep within, making her feel terribly sad that violence and the means to inflict it had become ordinary. A noise from the back garden pulled her attention, and her eyes scouted the margins of the yard through the window. Empty. She mentally dismissed the sound as unimportant, and yet at a deeper level it appeared to have unnerved her, as Erin’s fingers started to run over the Glock methodically, checking the weapon with practiced ease for the tenth time that morning before placing it down on the table within hand’s reach.

  A heavy knock on the front door made her jump. A burst of adrenaline at the noise set her heart racing as she scooped up the pistol again and slipped off the safety. She darted into the hallway, her breathing shallow and rapid as she quietly padded up to the front door. Under the door’s base, she could see twin shadows of someone’s legs. Erin leant into the middle of the door to look through the spy hole. She felt a flood of relief as she recognised Bourke standing on the doorstep. Erin stood back from the entrance and took a few deep slow breaths, deliberately calming her expression before opening the door.

  ‘Lieutenant Bourke, I wasn’t sure if you were still planning on coming,’ she said, standing in the shadow of the entranceway.

  Bourke looked down at his watch and grimaced. ‘I was always sticking to my word, I just didn’t realise how quickly time had moved. With the attack today, I was doing whatever I could at the Fort to help before coming over. But with this useless bloody arm,’ he said glancing at his injured shoulder with disgust, ‘I don’t really think I was of much use.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I was only messing with you,’ said Erin. ‘Come on in, it’ll be good to have some company until they all make it back.’

  Bourke smiled as he accepted her extended hand to shake. ‘Company I can provide,’ he said before pointing out the pistol in her hand, ‘but I think you’ve got the security part of my role already covered.’

  ‘Yeah, but it never hurts to have a second pair of eyes and gun at hand,’ Erin said, closing the door behind him.

  They walked down the hallway to the open planned living area at the rear of the house. Erin inspected the back garden through the windows once more before shrugging and heading to the kitchen.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea or coffee?’ she asked, flicking the switch on the kettle to start it boiling.

  ‘Whatever you’re making is fine with me.’

  Erin put aside her pistol on the kitchen bench to grab a pair of coffee mugs from a cupboard. After the water boiled, she picked up the kettle and poured it over the teabags she’d placed earlier, and then carried them to the long wooden table where Bourke was sitting. He was on the far side, back to the garden.

  Bourke heaped three spoons of sugar into his cup, stirring it in before blowing at the surface and taking a small sip. ‘It’s funny how the small things still irk me, eh?’ he said. ‘Like not having milk to put in tea or coffee.’

  ‘If that’s the worst thing you can come up with, you’re not trying hard enough,’ said Erin, one eyebrow raised. ‘I’d spare a thought for the thousands of cows that must have been in agony with no-one there to milk them after their owners caught the plague. Half of them probably died from blood poisoning and mastitis.’

  ‘Geez, you can pick the farm girl in the room without a problem,’ said Bourke, raising his hand in defeat.

  Erin let the topic drop. ‘Have you heard any news about how they’re going in Geelong?’

  Bourke’s smile faded. ‘On the whole, most of the crews were doing ok when I left. Early reports were that the firebombs had been relatively effective in culling most Carriers, with the trucks just having to mop up the stragglers that didn’t reach the noise attractants in time for the bonfire. I just feel like shit that I’m not there taking the same risk as the other men. I’ve got mates out there today, and because of that freak who shot me, I’m not there to help keep them alive.’

  ‘I hear you,’ said Erin quietly. ‘Everyone I have left is fighting today. This waiting is eating at me like cancer; I wish I were there myself as well. At least then I’d know if Jai was ok.’

  ‘That’s your brother?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s on the crew with Mark Collins. They got allocated the route through the town centre.’

  Bourke’s face stiffened slightly at her words and he picked up his cup again, suddenly interested in the floral design on the outside.

  ‘What? Do you know something about them?’ asked Erin leaning forward from the other side of the table to grab his wrist. ‘If you do, I have a right to...’

  Bourke’s head smashed forward into the table, his face obliterated as the bullet exited, narrowly missing Erin. For a split second, she sat in shock, her face spattered in Lieutenant Bourke’s blood and neural matter. Her brain finally kicked in, and she threw herself to the side as a second bullet punctured the back window to bury itself in the kitchen island behind her seat. The fractured glass pane crashed free, splintering into a thousand pieces on the carpet.

  Erin’s hands were shaking as she sneaked a look over the edge of the table. Jeremy was walking across the back lawn toward the house, casually holding a pistol at his side like he was out on a morning stroll. Erin swore, realising her own gun was still on the kitchen bench. On hands and knees, she scuttled around the island bench into the kitchen, panting in short desperate breaths as fear gripped her rib cage like a vice. She stuck her hand over the bench top, madly grasping around for the Glock. Finally, her hand hit on the cold metal of the handle, and she pulled it down. Erin flicked the safety off and held the gun out before her in a two-hand grip aiming above the island bench, her back against the cupboard door.

  Footsteps crunched on glass as she heard Jeremy step through the broken window.

  ‘Erin?’ called out Jeremy in a singsong voice. ‘I’ve come to visit. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced.’

  She heard him move closer to the table, and clenched the handle of her pistol tighter, grinding her teeth in an effort to control the shake of her hands.

  ‘I see our friend Lieutenant Bourke has decided to take a nap on the table. What poor form, looks like he can’t handle his drink!’ said Jeremy, chuckling at his own humour. ‘Now Erin, let’s see what your face looks like with a bullet hole to improve its features. You fell behind the table I think...’ he said, looming into view for the first time, his eyes fixed on the floor. ‘Now where the fuck did you get to?’ he said, eyes widening in surprise at finding her missing.

  Erin squeezed the trigger, aiming for the centre of his chest. Jeremy spu
n backwards, the bullet hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer. The noise of her gun was enormous in the kitchen nook, reverberating back upon her painfully. Erin paused, trying to listen for sound of his movement.

  Shakily, she drew feet underneath and forced herself to stand. Erin sucked in a ragged breath, the sound of her blood pounding above the angry whine in her ears. She forced one step closer to the table, then another, until she could see past. A brief yelp of frustrated terror escaped her mouth as she realised he was gone. Erin looked madly about for signs of him. The carpet was a mess of blood, spatter reaching in numerous directions from the inflicted wounds. She identified a streak of drops making for the hallway.

  Erin was torn between the visceral urge to run, and a need to see it through. She couldn’t let him get away, not this time. Not after he’d invaded her house and killed another of her friends. She forced herself to walk toward the hallway. Peeking around the corner, her heart dropped – the hall was empty.

  From behind her head, came the unmistakable noise of a bullet being chambered. Erin froze.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Harry sat in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel in fury as he heard Mark’s request for support be denied over the radio. He was in the Defender 4WD used earlier in the Leopold evacuation, now repurposed as a medical support vehicle. Sitting on the Bellarine highway, two kilometres back from the fight, Harry had been frustrated by his allocated role. Ordered not to place the Fort’s only remaining medical resource at risk by approaching any active battlefield, Harry had been told that he could only provide medical support to those able to self-evacuate to his location behind the lines. He felt worse than useless. Close enough to almost see his mates die, too far away to be of any help.

  Harry picked up the radio. ‘This is Medic one. I am within distance to reach Lieutenant Collins’ location in time. Request permission to evacuate his team.’ He listened to the speaker, not realising he was holding his breath for the response.