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The Blood of the Infected (Book 2): Once Bitten, Twice Live

Page 7

by Stanton, Antony J.


  Bannister stood over the pair. There was a thin wisp of smoke coming from the muzzle of his Browning as he stared down at his fallen comrade and the diseased man. Even now his expression was not one of pity or support but instead of contempt and admonishment. The man’s head had been blown apart and covered the wall and much of Samuel’s lower body.

  In such a confined space the blast from the weapon made an almighty bang. Upstairs Wood and his section stopped dead and exchanged a quick glance. Then Straddling started to run for the end of the corridor. Wood grabbed his arm and hauled him back harshly, stopping him in his tracks. “No!”

  “Let go of me. They might need our help you fool.”

  “No. This is still a hot location. We move quickly but we’re not going to run like headless chickens. They may be in trouble but we can’t make matters worse by putting ourselves in jeopardy as well. Now follow me.”

  They made their way at speed but taking care at each open doorway, proceeding quickly but warily, with Straddling still fuming. It did not take them long until they had reached the others. They stood back, giving them space and providing cover.

  Lewis pulled the dead man off Samuels and knelt down by the young soldier, being careful not to get the contaminated blood on himself. “Are you okay?” he asked, his face full of the concern that had been so evidently missing in Bannister’s.

  Samuels cradled his elbow protectively in his right arm and hugged his knees to his chest without looking up or answering.

  Singleton knelt beside Lewis. “Samuels, are you all right? Have you been bitten?”

  He looked pitifully at her with heart-breaking poignancy. “My leg. I think he may have bitten my leg.”

  They were all immediately crestfallen. Lewis slumped back against the wall in dismay but Singleton seemed to have found her professionalism. She quickly moved down his body, checking him for injuries. “Which one?”

  He indicated the left and she rolled the trouser leg up higher, revealing a small mark with a tiny trickle of blood on his lower calf. She looked into his eyes searchingly, striving for the right words but nothing seemed quite enough. “I’m so sorry. It looks like you have been bitten.”

  “Does that mean I’m going to get ill? Am I going to turn into one of those… zombies?” He started to struggle and tried to get up but she held him down.

  “Samuels,” she said sternly. “I don’t know, but the best chance you’ve got right now is for me to clean and dress this immediately, so stay still.” She reached into her bag and took out her first aid kit. She scrubbed the wound feverishly with liquid anti-bacterial soap making him cry out in pain and then rinsed it with a bottle of water, before applying some antiseptic cream and a bandage.

  “It’s possible that the infection may not have passed into your blood, in which case you might be okay. We just don’t know enough about how it's transmitted between humans yet to be certain, so there is a very real possibility that you may be all right. I’m sorry Samuels. I’ve done all I can for now. I’m sorry.”

  Samuels stared around helplessly at his concerned colleagues, nobody really knowing quite what to say.

  Straddling quickly broke the silence. “I said this was a damn fool idea, right from the start. We should get back to Headley Court double-quick before anyone else gets hurt.”

  “No.” Lewis spoke quietly but firmly. “Samuels, I’m so sorry for what’s happened to you. I pray you are okay, but we came here for a reason and that reason is good enough for any of us to die for. We have not yet got what we came for. We go on.”

  “Are you mad?” Straddling snorted, practically laughing now. He was going red in the face and the vein in his neck protruded. “We’ve hardly even started searching and already we’re one man down. If there are any more of these disease-infested creatures in here, and you can bet your bottom dollar there are, they’ll all have heard the noise from the gun shot. They’ll probably be making their way here right now, sharpening their knives and forks and getting ready for some din-dins. If we don’t leave now then we’re all done for.”

  Lewis was fast losing patience with his senior sergeant and for once abandoned his normal, reasoned and diplomatic approach. He was starting to raise his voice in turn and he battled to control it. “You make your own decision Sergeant. I came here for a reason and I’m not done yet. I think this is worth giving my life for and I’m not leaving until I have got what I came for. If you think you have had enough and want to go home then go. Does anybody else want to leave now?”

  Samuels was the first to speak. “No. I agree Captain Lewis. This doesn’t change anything. We should get on with it.” He stood up, still cradling his elbow, a tragic but brave young man.

  “Anyone else?” Lewis looked around at them all and Hutchison in particular, but nobody spoke. Straddling was quiet for once and looked at the floor.

  “Okay then, let’s stop this belly-aching. I think we’ve just about cleared this section, there’s nothing of use here. Let’s get back to the entrance.”

  The ten started moving through the corridor with Lewis at the head. Soon they were back in the main reception area.

  Lewis turned to Wood. “You okay to continue as before? You take the top floor, we’ll take the bottom.”

  Wood nodded. Wordlessly he led his troops upstairs, once more into the gloom, with Straddling grumbling to himself.

  “So we no longer have the safety net of knowing that all enemies are shrieking and screaming and will come running at us in a frenzy. We now have to treat every corpse as a potential zombie as well? This is lunacy.”

  Wood stopped short and Straddling bumped into him. From close up, no more than only a few inches away, he stared into the cold eyes of the younger sergeant so that Straddling could feel his breath in his face.

  “That’s exactly right Sergeant,” Wood said harshly. “From now on we have to be a bit more careful. I don’t hear anybody else complaining so stop your whining and just get on with it.”

  Before Lewis led his soldiers into the gloom of the lower floor he took them all into the office to recheck the map. As they pondered it he turned to Singleton and spoke softly, too softly for the others to hear. “Good work back there.”

  “Thanks,” she nodded.

  “Do you really think it may not have got into his blood?”

  She frowned, drew a deep breath and looked over at Samuels who was standing in the corner of the room furthest from the entrance to the office. His back was against the wall and his rifle levelled at the doorway.

  “I just don’t know. It’s possible I guess but we don’t have enough information about this condition to say for sure. Regardless of whether it’s the truth or not, it’s what he needs to hear right now.”

  Bannister had quietly slunk over to them and heard what she said. He exploded in anger. “So you mean to say that we’re gonna keep him with us? He could turn into a zombie at any minute or just go crazy like Abbott and shoot us all. No way man, we’ve gotta cut him loose. It’s not safe to keep him with us. It’d be better for him if we just shot him now, before he turns into one of them.”

  Like all of them Lewis was already stressed and on edge. Added to that he had been getting more and more annoyed with Straddling and the constant protestations. This latest eruption was more than he could take. He whipped around and grabbed Bannister by the lapels of his coat and the steel in his grip matched that of his watery blue eyes, unwavering and unflinching. Bannister was reminded that Lewis was actually a couple of inches taller than he was and clearly had some strength in him. There was a look in the normally mild-mannered captain’s eyes that made him shut up and pay attention.

  “Don’t be an idiot. He’s still a valuable member of this party and you never know - he may just save your life. He isn’t sick yet and he may not be at all, so in answer to your question, yes, we’re keeping him with us. Is that all right?”

  The question was rhetorical and Lewis did not wait for an answer, but he released his hold on Ban
nister and went to Samuels. “How are you doing son?”

  “I’m okay sir, really. I don’t feel ill or anything. I think the doctor may be right, I don’t think it got into my blood. I’ll be fine.”

  Lewis smiled encouragingly and tried to look as though he believed the soldier. “That’s great. How’s your elbow?”

  Samuels wrinkled his face in pain. “Think I just bashed it proper on the ground when I fell, sir. I don’t think it’s broken, just hurts a bit that’s all. I’m sure it’ll be right as rain in a few days, no harm done.”

  “You’re a brave lad. I wish I had a few more like you. Shall we crack on then? See if we can’t do some good, hey?”

  “Yessir,” he answered brightly. As they left the office Lewis took Hutchison aside. “Keep an eye on him please, on both of them in fact.” He looked in the direction of Samuels and Bannister. Hutchison nodded and they moved through the fire doors to the east of the reception area.

  The corridor was longer than that to the west and where office doors had been left open there was light enough to negate the need for torches. Straight away they saw movement towards the far end. A woman was stooped over and scrabbling on the floor. She had not yet noticed them. Lewis turned to his small party, looking specifically at Singleton. "We haven’t checked here yet and we do need to go this way, there’s nothing else for it.”

  Singleton nodded. Since the incident with Samuels’s leg she seemed to have adopted a different, more fatalistic and professional attitude, as though confronting the diseased for the first time had eased her fears somewhat. They waited silently, hugging the walls for a moment in the hope that the woman would not see them and would go away of her own volition but she was intent on whatever she was doing and did not move from her spot. Eventually Lewis turned his torch on and shone it at her. Only now did she look up at them, but for a few seconds still did not react.

  “Survivor?” whispered Singleton hopefully.

  Lewis shrugged. The woman’s hair was shoulder length and dark brown but after a couple of weeks of living rough it was wild and matted. At this range however they could not see the look in her eyes or the colour of her skin. They could not tell if her teeth were falling out or if the veins bulged and promised to rupture as the blood sluggishly pumped around her body. After a few moments however they could most definitely hear her garbled scream of undiluted rage as she realised they were potential food and rushed at them. Her hands reached out, her fingers clawing at the empty air in front of her as she tore along the corridor with surprising speed. She did not veer but ran straight and true until the bullet rang out and ended her charge. Lewis had dropped to one knee. Slowly and calmly he took aim. He controlled his breathing and squeezed gently. A single shot. Her body was blown several feet through the air, landing on her back with her legs still quivering.

  Lewis was on his radio immediately to alert the others. “Contact. One enemy - dead. No others so far. Keep your eyes open.”

  “Roger,” the curt reply came back immediately.

  Hutchison looked uneasily behind him. “Seems there may well be a few more of those yet sir.”

  They continued along the passageway, checking each room. As before this section seemed to be devoted to the administrative aspects of the company. Nobody else was encountered and they arrived at the next set of doors just before Wood on the floor above. They again made radio contact.

  “Just at the next staircase now. All clear so far. You?”

  After a brief crackle Wood’s voice sounded again. “Yep, at the fire doors by the stairs. It seems that the building has a third floor here as the steps go up, as well as down to you. That could cause us a problem with anything creeping in behind us. We can’t be sure that the area is clear.”

  “Okay, there’s nothing we can do about that now. I don’t think it’s safe to split up any more so just be careful and keep checking your six. We’ll sweep as far as the next fire doors and then we can all double back along the top floor.”

  “Roger.”

  Another voice came on the radio, accompanied by a lot more static.

  “It’s Darby ’ere sir. What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

  “Darby, it’s Captain Lewis. Yes, everything’s fine. We encountered a couple of aggressors.” He glanced sideways at Samuels before continuing. “Everyone’s okay though. Anything to report from you?”

  There was a pause and some more static before Darby’s voice came back on the radio.

  “No sir. All under control ‘ere.”

  He sounded hollow and stilted and something caught Lewis’s attention. He frowned. “You sure? You don’t sound convinced.”

  “Yes sir. Everything’s fine.”

  “Well don’t let your attention wander Darby. I mean it, we’re relying on you.”

  There was a pause, then, “Yes sir,” and the radio once again went dead.

  There was the distant, muffled sound of a door banging or furniture breaking from above them somewhere, although the acoustics made it hard to say if it was in front or behind. The unseen enemy was the most unsettling experience. The persistent promise of danger kept them constantly on edge. Lewis rubbed his hands on his trousers; the sweat on his palms had been there since they arrived. In the eerie silence of the asylum there was the continual thumping of his heart. He tried to steady himself. Again he got on the radio. “Wood, did you hear that?”

  Immediately the reply came. “Yes sir. Heard a crash but couldn’t work out from where.”

  “Okay. Stay alert.”

  “Roger.”

  Outside the building and leaning against one of the vehicles, Darby turned to Berthon and smirked. “I don’t think he’d really want to hear about the fun we’ve been having. Do you?”

  Corporal Berthon snorted and looked away at the laboratories, wondering what kind of hellish torment they were missing by not being inside with the others. He turned back to say something but Darby had wandered away and was prodding with his boot at the skull of the man lying on the tarmac.

  CHAPTER 7

  Everything had been quiet for a while. It was even quite pleasant to be outside in the warm sunshine, were it not for the inane babble that came out of Darby’s mouth.

  “You make about as much sense as one of those crazies,” Berthon grumbled, and although Darby laughed, the comment had been made in all seriousness. The injury Berthon had sustained in Iraq meant that his back was now hurting from the drive, which had not put him in the best of moods anyway. He did not suffer fools well and this Darby irritated him, reminiscent of the typical type of lads that he grew up with at home and would have liked to have left behind - at home.

  Corporal Kevin Berthon had received a private school education which was not to say that his parents were wealthy, just that they thought it would be a good start for their son and they were willing to make sacrifices to provide it for him. Berthon did not at all think that made him in any way superior, it was merely the decision that his parents had taken.

  It had indeed given him a reasonable education and opened his eyes to the wealth of potential in the world but it had also brought with it a not insignificant amount of ridicule and bullying from other kids in his neighbourhood who all went to the local housing estate’s council school. Berthon had grown up fighting because of it. It had toughened his skin, and hardened his knuckles. He could not wait to leave that small-mindedness behind and although his parents had hoped he might have developed a profession as an accountant, lawyer or suchlike, he just could not imagine himself in that kind of career and had joined the army at the age of eighteen.

  His injuries in Basra had seen him transferred to Headley Court and although he had seen Darby many times in the canteen, this was the first opportunity the two of them had to actually speak for more than a couple of minutes.

  After Lewis had led the troops across the car park and out of sight into the abyss, Darby had started chatting. It took a while for Berthon to realise that he was not really talking ab
out anything in particular, he was just the kind of person who feels the need to fill every silence with noise. At first he tried to participate in the conversation when he was able to get a word in, but after a while he leant back against the bonnet of his Landy, rubbed his aching back, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sun on his face whilst Darby wittered on. Darby did not seem to notice or mind that he was the sole custodian of the conversation and kept up the garrulous barrage for quite some time.

  It was a few seconds before Berthon noticed that the monologue had ceased and Darby was no longer beside him. He opened his eyes and looked around with a sudden feeling of unease. Darby had walked a dozen paces up the road and was staring back at the first barrier they had smashed through. Berthon followed his line of vision and saw movement which jerked him violently out of his daydreaming.

  “Strewth! Is it one of them?”

  Darby was running back towards him and nodded. “Yep, I’d say so. Don’t think the zombie’s noticed us yet but it’s coming this way and it’ll see us soon.”

  “Bugger! Best get on the radio to Lewis then.”

  “The heck we will.” Darby’s eyes were gleaming like a man possessed. “The two of us can handle this by ourselves. I think Captain Lewis has enough to cope with already. He won’t want us to bother him with this; he’d expect us to deal with it. That’s pretty much what he said before he left anyway.”

  Berthon was fairly sure that Lewis had said no such thing but he did tend to agree with Darby for once.

  “What do you have in mind?”

 

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