“Once Bitten, Twice Live”
Antony J. Stanton
Book two from ‘The Blood of the Infected’ series
Published by Antony J. Stanton
“Once Bitten, Twice Live”
Published by Antony J. Stanton
Cover by Adnan Saleem of DestinationCreation.com
Copyright © by Antony J. Stanton 2016
The author’s moral right has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
“Once Bitten, Twice Live” is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-0-9934285-3-1
Table of Contents
The Players
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Connect with the Author
Acknowledgements
“Once Bitten, Twice Die”
Book one from ‘The Blood of the Infected’ series.
The end of the world was just the beginning…
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“Once Bitten, Twice Live”
Book two from ‘The Blood of the Infected’ series.
When death is the best option, survival is no longer enough…
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Published in time for Halloween 2016
“Twice Bitten, Twice Die”
Book three from ‘The Blood of the Infected’ series.
When there’s no one left to hear you scream…
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Dedicated to you, the readers. I assume you've read book one and have come back for more
Thank you so much – it means a lot to me, and I truly hope you like it.
This one’s for you
When death is the best option, survival is no longer enough…
The
Players
Group Captain Tristan Denny. RAF. Station Commander Royal Air Force Headley Court
Captain Thomas Lewis. Army. Royal Artillery. 2nd in Command RAF Headley Court
Squadron Leader Anna Singleton. RAF. Station Medical Officer
Security
Sergeant Garrick Straddling. RAF Regiment
Sergeant Matteo Abbott. RAF Regiment
Sergeant Sinna. Army. Gurkha Regiment
Corporal Bannister. Army
Lance Corporal Dean Millington. Army
Private Giuseppe Campos. RAF Regiment
Private Philip Sharp. Army
Private Rohith. Army. Gurkha Regiment
Supply / Logistics
Flight Lieutenant Andrew Walkden. RAF. Officer in Charge of Admin / Logistics / Engineering
Corporal Bamburac. RAF
Senior Aircraftman Richard Masters. RAF. Wife = Vida
Private Bruce Matthews. Army
Admin
Cpl Gillen. RAF
Leading Aircraftman Mayoh RAF
Leading Aircraftman Allen. RAF
Military Transport (MT)
Sergeant Harper Hutchison. Army
Lance Corporal Ward. Army
Private Darby. Army
Medical
Dr Handley. Civilian
Corporal Newman. Army
Corporal May Williams. RAF
Senior Aircraftman Freddie Samuels. RAF
Senior Aircraftman Dan Hobbs. RAF
Private Howes. Army
Private Hanson. Army
Catering
Sergeant Vallage. RAF
Corporal Bell. Army
Leading Aircraftman Neale. RAF
Leading Aircraftman Patrick Scovell. RAF
Patients
Sergeant Liam Wood. Army. 1 Para
Corporal Charlotte Collins. Army
Corporal Reggie Pethard. RAF. Wife = Emma
Corporal Kevin Berthon. Army
Corporal Elliot Gray. Army. Coldstream Guards
Corporal Pellegrini. Army. Coldstream Guards
Aero-Medical Students
Flight Lieutenant Jonny Parsons. RAF
Flying Officer Oliver Frost. RAF
The Vampires
Darius – Clan Leader
Max
Farzin
Flavia
Alec
Luca
Sebastian
“Once Bitten, Twice Live”
“I would rather my enemy’s sword pierce my heart,
than my friend’s dagger stab me in the back”
- Michele Bardsley
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CHAPTER 1
As his mother’s teeth fixed firmly upon his arm it was not the pain that he had felt initially but the shock; total, numbing shock and disbelief. For the briefest of moments he had not reacted. He just stared at her as she sank her jagged teeth into him. Those teeth had been responsible for nibbling loose ends of thread while darning his jumpers when he was a child. Those teeth had, all his life, been flashed at him in a loving and ready smile. Those teeth were now tearing his flesh, sinking into his forearm and bringing with them his doom.
The pain broke through his astonishment and brought him sharply back to a distinct awareness of the present. He snatched his arm away with a gasp. Stumbling backwards, he tripped. She screeched and glared as though he had affronted her. She swiped at him with a twisted claw. The incredulity stupefied his reactions and made his feeble attempt to avoid her ever clumsier. She stretched towards him, grasping and flailing in her attempt to savage her eldest son. She scratched at his ankles and slipped half out of bed as she bore down upon him.
He frantically grabbed his mother's wrists, trying to hold her at arm's length. She lunged repeatedly at him. Her head came close for a moment, bringing her teeth almost within range. He could feel her warm breath upon his cheek as a line of phlegm drooled from her lips. She made that same hissing sound again, but this time it was strangled and rasping, as though something was caught in her throat. The unhealthy pink tinge to her skin was obvious now, as were the scabs that had started to form on her cheeks. As he stared into her black, incognisant eyes, her pupils were dilated and blank, like those of a corpse.
Her bed clothes were tucked tightly around her. They ensnared her somewhat, slowing her down. Jason frantically scrambled backwards, away from his mother’s attack. He collided and fell over the bedside table, toppling the candle upon it. The table's back legs splintered and the candlestick fell to the floor. His mother screamed again, all spittle and spite. The insanity that claimed her mind drove her to seek his fresh, warm flesh and assuage her wrath. At last the shock gave way to survival and he was on his feet, dodging her clutching talons as he ran for the door.
He barely registered her roar of indignant anger as he leapt towards the stairs. The speed of his descent caused him to miss a step
and he slipped. He landed heavily and felt something stab through his spine. He slid half way down on his back, the pain making him wince and cry out. He was stunned for a moment. There were sounds of his mother frantically scrabbling on her belly out of the bedroom and towards the stairs. She was close in pursuit and that urged him on. He took the last few steps in a single bound and fled through the front door without looking back.
George was standing by the car and Julia and the kids were already sat in the rear. George looked with concern at his brother and took a step forwards.
“Get in the car,” Jason shouted. “We’re leaving. Now!”
George opened his mouth to voice a protestation but the look on Jason’s face was enough to end the dispute.
A minute of driving at a ferocious pace was all Jason could manage before he pulled the car over to the curb. After he had vomited, he sat for a few seconds holding tightly to the steering wheel and staring straight ahead.
Julia and the children were in stunned silence but George placed a tentative hand on Jason’s arm. “Are you okay bro? What happened?”
He wiped his mouth and blinked away the prickly tears as he turned to his younger brother. His face was ashen and drawn and George had never seen him looking so desolate and lost; so unrecognisable and inconsolable.
The roads were deserted. Clearly news of the curfew had registered and at the moment people were afraid to be outside. The state of emergency had brought home to everyone the seriousness of what was occurring - the spread of insanity brought about by the wonder drug Mnemoloss, designed to cure dementia. The ‘neurological nuke’ in this battle, not so much for the hearts as for the minds of the sufferers, in dementia’s war against humanity. The drug that his mother had taken, that had in turn taken away her rationality and replaced it with insatiable anger, turning her into one of these mindless lunatics intent only on killing. The drug that he, Dr Jason Boxall, had been chiefly responsible for developing at GVF Laboratories, that had caused this illness to sweep unchecked through civilization and brought about the rapid downfall of society.
“She bit me,” he croaked.
George gently touched Jason’s arm where the blood had started to trickle. Jason brushed at it and pulled down the sleeve of his shirt as though hiding the evidence would alter the reality. With trembling hands he fumbled for the ignition and moved the car back into the middle of the road. Nobody spoke again for a long while.
Finally George turned back to his brother. “She bit you?” he asked, although that had already been established and that was not really what he was asking. There had been reports in the media of those who had come into contact with Mnemoloss patients becoming crazy themselves, although he could not bring himself to voice these concerns. Jason kept staring forwards and did not say a word. Even when there was a muffled sob from Julia in the back of the car he did not react, his eyes remained fixed resolutely on the road. The safety of his family was now his immediate and overriding concern. And ultimately, what did they really know? What did anyone know for sure? Rumours and scaremongering by the press; that was all anybody had to go on, at the moment…
A short period of their journey was on motorway. They encountered few cars here but those they did see tended to be vastly exceeding the speed limit. Ahead they saw a white Ford Sierra careering hazardously across the road. One moment it looked as though it would surely hit the central reservation and the next it veered into the middle carriageway.
“Slow down Jason, please,” Julia murmured.
Jason’s foot eased up on the accelerator as they neared. He was driving carefully around it when the driver’s door suddenly burst open, even while the Sierra continued to roll. A man leapt out with blood streaming from his neck, shouting in terror and waving at Jason to stop. Still in the passenger seat but trying to chase after him was an elderly man who had blood around his mouth. He clawed at the other and tried to climb over the gear stick and out of the driver’s door. For a moment the man stared at Jason pleadingly. The desperation was as clear as if he had written it on a placard. Their gazes locked, for just the shortest of moments. Jason looked into his eyes and saw his own expression reflected back at him, before he floored the pedal and they shot past.
When they arrived at GVF Laboratories the outer gate was lowered and eight security guards in dark blue, military-style uniforms stood sternly blocking the road. Jason had never seen such a show of force at the lab before. On any normal day there would be no more than two guards. He brought the car to a halt but the guards did not move. They eyed the vehicle with suspicion so he leaned out of his window, brandishing his ID card.
One of the guards with a crew-cut and thick neck approached in an unhurried manner. “Sorry sir, nobody is allowed on or off the site. The gates are closed.”
Jason thrust his ID in the man’s face. “I am Dr Jason Boxall. I am the chief scientist involved with the production of Mnemoloss. You have to let me through.”
“Sorry sir, orders are orders. We have been instructed not to let anyone in.”
“Look this is crazy,” Boxall said with a note of desperation rising in his voice. “You don’t understand, I have got to get back to my office. It is absolutely imperative that I continue to work on the drug, now more than ever.”
The guard had a defiant look in his narrow eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think you understand sir. Orders are orders,” he slowly repeated. “No one is allowed to enter this base.”
“But… this is lunacy,” Boxall spluttered. “You have absolutely no idea how important this is. I don’t have time to waste, debating this with you. I have got to work on the drug. I have to try and find a cure. I have got to get in, and you are wasting time that I just don’t have.”
The man was already shaking his head once more when one of his colleagues, an older man with a severe grey haircut and a steady gaze, peered more closely and then stepped forwards. There were two golden stripes on the shoulder of his uniform denoting higher rank and he carried himself more alertly than did his colleagues. Andrew recognised him as a man called Leavesley, a senior guard who had worked at the company for many years and one whom he liked and trusted.
“Sorry Dr Boxall, I didn’t recognize you there,” Leavesley said. He turned then to his colleague. “It’s okay Moore, I know him. Let him though.”
The guard still looked unsure and his face blackened but Leavesley raised an authoritative hand, silencing his argument.
“Moore, it’s Dr Boxall,” he said firmly. “Let him through.”
Although directly opposing each other, both guards were acting correctly. It was indeed vital for Dr Boxall to continue his work as soon as possible, but it was also imperative for the preservation of everyone on the complex to keep the infection out. And by allowing Jason in, Leavesley was contravening that mandate and unwittingly placing everyone in the complex in peril.
By the time they had driven to the inner gate it had already been raised in anticipation. The guard there gave a sloppy salute which Jason ignored as he sped past.
The building was in a hushed state of agitation. There were various people rushing about whilst others sat quietly in offices or the canteen, staring into space or into the bottoms of their coffee mugs as though the answers they sought were hiding there somewhere. Jason led his family through the building without pausing to talk to anybody. Only when a tall, grey man with light brown hair and a grey suit called out to him from an open office doorway did he stop briefly and turn.
“Jason, I need to talk to you as soon as poss.”
“Sure. I’ll just get my family installed somewhere comfortable then I’ll be right back.”
The man nodded grimly and returned to the depths of the office without even acknowledging the rest of them. Jason hurried on. After several twists of the corridor and sets of fire doors they found themselves in what looked to be a simple hotel room, or perhaps more accurately a hospital room. There was not much in it, just a single bed, a bedside cabinet and a movable
privacy-screen, some electrical equipment on a trolley and a few other incidental items. The bed had sheets, blankets and a pillow but had obviously been used already. Jason looked apologetic as he faced them all.
“This is where Mum stayed while she was here.” He stared at the floor and looked achingly sad.
Julia went to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and only now did he permit any sympathy.
“Shouldn’t you get that treated?” she said, indicating the wound on his arm.
“Why?” He shrugged his shoulders. “What’s the point?”
“Well, to stop the blood,” she fumbled for words. “To stop the…” But she could not finish. To stop the contamination. To stop the descent into madness. To stop him becoming an enraged and single-minded killer.
Again he shrugged. “I don’t have time for that now. I’ve got work to do. More than ever now, I have to try and finish my work.”
He was already backing out of the door and she called out to him again.
“Jason…”
He glanced back at her and there were tears in his eyes as he forced a smile and disappeared from view.
The next few hours were a blur. At first they closed the door and huddled together, sheltering in the safety of their room, listening to people rushing about outside, occasional shouts or the indeterminate sounds of crying and anguish. Then there followed a period of even more unsettling hush. Finally George had waited long enough.
“I’m going to pop out and see what’s going on, maybe get some food and drink.”
Just then the door burst open. It was Jason, but the look on his face was unfamiliar to them all, a mix of inscrutable detachment and urgency and it made Julia shudder.
The Blood of the Infected (Book 2): Once Bitten, Twice Live Page 1