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

by Stanton, Antony J.

  Millington eyed the dead bodies and then turned to Wood, a perplexed, amused expression on his face. “You know, s’funny.”

  Wood frowned in surprise. “What’s funny?”

  Millington pointed to the five iron that Wood held. “I’d have thought you’d have chosen a wood.”

  Perhaps because it was such a bad joke, but the release of tension was instant and compelling and the soldiers all found themselves laughing a little too hard, leaving Handley still on his knees looking at them in bewilderment, wondering how they could find an opportunity for mirth at a time like this.

  Finally Wood was keen to get moving. “Are we all right? Has anyone been bitten?”

  They shook their heads but as they all had blood on their clothing Wood was still concerned. “Perhaps more likely, have any of you swallowed any blood of the infected, or got it in your eye?”

  Again they all shook their heads but with a little less conviction this time. It may have saved their ammunition, but it had not been without its dangers. They still did not really know much about this disease or its methods of transfer.

  “Okay well that was certainly quieter than shooting them but we’ve made plenty of noise nevertheless. We need to get out of here. Check your weapons and we move before anything else comes this way. Consolidate your ammo and make sure you have a full mag loaded. I know we’re all tired but stay tight, no mistakes. We’ve got a lot more to do yet.”

  Handley looked dreadful, a broken man but his professional inclination to save lives had not deserted him. “What about the scream we heard?”

  Millington nodded. “I definitely heard it too.”

  Straddling was not convinced. “You said you heard a scream. Well I’ve heard plenty of screams today and they’ve all come from these blasted creatures. If it wasn’t Singleton getting a nasty wee shock then it was probably two of these buggers fighting over some scrap of food. It’s a fool’s errand, I tell ya.”

  “No, it didn’t sound like one of them. It sounded like someone in distress. Like a normal person.”

  Straddling snorted in derision but Wood raised his hand and cut him short. “I have to say I didn’t hear anything myself. Are you absolutely sure?”

  Both Handley and Millington nodded. Had the doctor been the only one to hear it they would probably have passed it off as the stress of the situation but Millington was experienced and well-respected, and his corroboration gave some credence to the claim.

  “Do you have any idea where it sounded like it was coming from?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “It was pretty quiet,” Millington said. “I almost missed it myself.”

  “Okay, well Lewis has checked the floor below. We’ll finish off this level, and if we don’t find anyone then maybe it came from above. We can have a quick look up there, in the cafeteria. It won’t take us a moment.”

  Straddling was still unconvinced and getting angry now. “We’re already jeopardising ourselves for this damn stupid idea but I thought we were here to try and find information that may help to save the human race. That much I can understand, but I don’t want to gamble my life to try and find somebody who probably doesn’t even exist. We’ve looked in the dining hall already and Captain Lewis said there was nothing of value there.”

  “Well sorry but things have changed and that’s now our new plan.” Wood spoke calmly but quickly, not wanting to get into a heated discussion.

  “Why are you in charge anyway?” Straddling was furious and clearly not about to let the matter drop. “You’re only a damn patient at Headley Court. We shouldn’t be following orders from you.”

  They were wasting time and this disagreement was becoming a distraction when they could ill afford one. Abruptly Millington snapped. He turned, swiftly grabbed Straddling and picked him up by the lapels. He forced him back and slammed him against the wall, his feet dangling helplessly several inches above the floor. “Everybody here has just about had enough of your complaining for one day, Sergeant. I suggest you shut your mouth and stay in line.”

  Straddling was speechless as he stared into Millington’s furious face. It was the first time he had ever seen so much as a scowl from the normally amiable and unflappable giant. Wood glared at him but remained silent. He turned away from the confrontation and calmly checked his weapon, waiting until they were all ready. Millington held the man a little longer, before giving him a shake, releasing his hold and casting him to the ground in disgust. Straddling stumbled and banged his elbow painfully. The rest of the group scowled at him. He said nothing but went red in the face as he rubbed his arm, coughed and straightened his uniform.

  The small band turned and trudged towards the next room, an ever-widening rift between them but increasingly reliant on each other if they were to have the slightest hope of survival.

  CHAPTER 10

  After the vehicles left Headley Court, Corporal Charlotte Collins had gone back to her room and tried to sleep, but there was little chance of that. Her knee was sore from the injuries that had brought her to Headley Court, and her mind was buzzing with the stories she had been told by Sebastian the night before, and the implications of their encounter in the guardroom. When they had initially seen the two strangers at the petrol station there was obviously something unusual about them, about how they looked or how they moved, but at the time the stress and emotion of the situation had meant she could not put her finger on exactly what it was. The fact that one of them had seemed to bite Bannister was hardly conclusive proof that the two of them were these supposed creatures from mythology. Now to have their identities confirmed as actual vampires just seemed totally insane and she needed some time alone to digest the information. The world had turned on its head; people had become zombies, walking dead, devoid of any vestiges of humanity or reason. Society had collapsed over the period of merely a few weeks, and now vampires walked the earth in broad daylight, the living, the dead and the un-dead, all mixed together. It was a hideous fantasy, a ghastly, gothic nightmare, unbelievable and yet actually happening.

  More than that, the strange vampire who had visited her last night seemed unlike the characters of book and fable, not menacing and evil but trustworthy, well-meaning and even friendly. She found him fascinating, intriguing, and … and what? Likeable? Was that as far as she was willing to go? He was undeniably charismatic and handsome, with his striking features, wavy hair like a Michelangelo bust, and his serenely penetrating eyes that just drew her in and refused to allow any escape. And there was such an aura of calm, commanding authority about him, of knowledge and power gained over the many lives he had lived. Had he been working his vampyric charms on her? Had he hypnotised her? She did not think so but how to tell? And yet being in his presence had also been intimidating. He must supposedly be a killer, she assumed, and being with him was like entering the lion's den. Had he been tempted to drink her blood? She assumed the desire must have been there but that he had been supressing it. So exactly how much danger had she actually been in?

  And then she felt guilty for thinking of Sebastian, because of Sergeant Liam Wood. It was wrong of her and she tried to banish the thoughts, but then what did Wood and her have together anyway? Thrown together by circumstance, two of the few people left in this world, as far as they could tell, clinging to each other desperately, alone and scared and in need of solace for a night or two. Was that really all he meant to her? No, she did not think so. She genuinely had significant and blossoming emotions for him. In their brief encounters before the state of emergency had she not already felt the tingle of butterflies whenever they had chanced to interact? Had she not been disproportionately grateful when he had caught her eye, when his lips had parted slightly into his version of a smile? Despite his reserved nature he had always somehow portrayed himself as charismatic; gentle yet strong. And the fact that he had not immediately fawned at her feet, as men so often did, was a pleasant change. If anything it had been her who had been flirting with him. He was obviously a
handsome man, but more than that she somehow liked the fact that he made absolutely no effort to ingratiate himself to anyone, almost as though he preferred to be alone and cared not at all for the opinion of others, just confident in himself and his own actions. Hence she knew that she could absolutely take any signs of warmth from him as genuine and more meaningful than the usual flirtatious overtures of others.

  Without doubt the situation in which they all now found themselves embroiled did add a certain urgency to relations. Every moment that was not swathed in despair had to be cherished and nurtured. Every fleeting happiness had to be encouraged. Would they have forged such a bond in other times? Probably, she thought so. Would it have happened so quickly? She did not know, and to be honest, what did it matter?

  But also, she wondered, what exactly did she mean to him? He was so solitary, even with her, sometimes to the point of being standoffish. He was not forthcoming with his emotions, bordering on cold-hearted. She wondered if he actually did have any real feelings towards her at all or was she just convenient for him? A distraction from the horrors they all faced. These days, when sentiments were heightened, when every emotion was tinged with pain and everything was so desperate, it was hard to know what one truly felt about anything. And if she were to become attached to him and then lost him, it would just be even more heartache and she was not sure she could handle that.

  She was restless. She found no relief from sleep and her tiredness was making her think irrationally. Eventually she got dressed and made her way to the dining area. This had become the focal point of the base, where everyone went when they had enough of feeling alone. This morning there were half a dozen tables in use. Sergeant Vallage was visible at the serving hatch. She wondered whether he was aware on a conscious level, being in charge of catering, of the importance that his domain had taken on for everybody and therefore the pivotal role that he himself now carried in bonding them all together and buoying up their spirits. For once he actually appeared cheerful, whistling a random tune and busying himself as he tried to avoid thinking of the fate of the expedition.

  To Collins’s surprise even Group Captain Denny was present, looking and acting like any other normal person with no hint of his recent erratic behaviour, smiling and chatting to Leading Aircraftman Mayoh, and Corporals Gillen, May Williams and Reggie Pethard. The Miracle Child, Josh, sat beside them, quietly. He seemed to have settled in a little better although he would still not leave the side of either of his two carers, unless Millington was there of course. Collins got a cup of tea from Vallage and sat down with them, trying to turn her mind from the events of the night before with idle chit-chat. The atmosphere at Headley Court was decidedly subdued. With twelve members of the base away and their fate as yet unknown it made for a very tense time. If the soldiers did not return then that would be immeasurably tragic, a heart-breaking loss for them all. It would also place the rest of them in even greater danger. The most experienced soldiers, not to mention the doctors, were all on the mission. Without them the rest of the personnel would almost certainly perish. This mission was a risk for everyone, not just those who were actually at the laboratories.

  Senior Aircraftman Ric Masters from the Supply and Logistics section walked into the dining hall, leading his pretty young wife Vida by the hand. When they entered everybody went silent and turned to stare at them. They stopped short just by the entrance. Masters glanced round at the staring faces and looked apologetic. “I’ve left Corporal Bamburac on the radio. Honest it’s fine,” he announced to the room in general.

  “Any news?” Denny asked.

  “No sir, nothing to tell. About fifteen minutes ago they were nearly at the lab but I’ve heard nothing since. I will let you know as soon as anything does happen, sir, really.”

  The room gradually reverted to hushed conversations. Charlotte Collins watched as Masters and Vida got a drink and hurriedly left, as though they were unwelcome intruders.

  Since then of course quite a lot had happened to the expedition, and not only to Wood’s small party.

  The final corridor in the main part of the building had proved fruitless for Lewis. There were a few rooms that would have been used as accommodation for patients undergoing drug trials. Otherwise it was all much the same as on the floor above, all larger offices each with an inner room where experiments or data analysis might take place. From looking at the titles on the doors this area was mainly concerned with the selection procedure for volunteers and collating their previous medical histories, methods of statistical analysis involved in the experiments, worldwide distribution of the drug and one office that had been involved with the early clinical trials of volunteers. Singleton got quite animated in this office and they did find some files and a laptop that they took with them, but they had finished along this stretch a lot sooner than their colleagues on the floor above.

  After the doors at the end of the passage there was a large open space where the building turned left through ninety degrees to the north. This section had a lot of natural light as there were floor to ceiling windows. There were comfortable seats and an area that was designed for relaxation, some more vending machines, a sink and some plants. Much of the furniture had been broken and the plant pots smashed. Dark patches had stained the carpets and there was a terrible reek of something awful. Just when they had adjusted to the stench of one area, there was another odour to assault them. A door opened to the outside although they were pleased to see that it was shut and locked. The last thing they wanted was an additional access point for anything to creep up on them from behind.

  As they crossed the area they all covered their noses and mouths against the smell. Samuels gagged and had a coughing fit that convulsed him and made him retch. He doubled over and was gasping for breath by the end of it. Bannister took a step back, eyeing him suspiciously. The nozzle of his rifle rose an inch or two and aimed vaguely at Samuels’s midriff.

  Lewis hesitated, then went to the young man and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right Freddie? How are you feeling?” He had never before addressed him by his first name. He spoke in a low voice so that the others, and specifically Bannister, could not hear.

  “Sorry sir, just the smell got to me a bit. I’m fine now.”

  Lewis started to turn away but Samuels spoke again in a pitiful tone of voice. His brow was creased and the look in his eyes almost had Lewis in tears.

  “Are you sure I’ll be okay sir? You really think I won’t turn into one of them?”

  It had been Singleton who had said that there was a possibility the contamination might not have passed into his blood. But as his military leader Lewis now had to assume responsibility for keeping that flicker of hope alive. He looked into the boy’s eyes and tried to hold his gaze steady and unflinching yet caring. He did not want to actually lie but at the same time he knew he had to say something to keep Samuels believing in that hope, however unlikely it was.

  “There is a possibility that you’ll be okay Freddie. There’s a chance that none of his saliva got into your blood stream and that chance is worth believing in and worth fighting for. You said yourself, you still feel fine and that’s gotta be a good sign, right? I mean, any one of us might yet die in here. None of us might get out safely, so just make sure you stay focused and keep believing that we’ll all be okay. All right?”

  Samuels smiled and seemed genuinely relieved and comforted. “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

  Fooling himself, Lewis thought grimly, but if that keeps him content then that’s a good thing. Better than just submitting to despair and giving up. And besides, they did not really know very much about this condition; as with all illnesses, wasn’t it possible that what the doc had said to Samuels was indeed correct? Or better still, that he had natural immunity to the condition? Or was that just Lewis now trying to convince himself that he had said the right thing? Was the truth actually a harsh and unpalatable reality? Perhaps the boy was already sick, had only a matter of hours before he started
to lose himself and all that he had been, started to become unrecognisable from the person he was only the day before and someone would have to put a bullet in his head. Lewis now needed him rational and focussing on the task of helping to keep them all alive. Sometimes the end does indeed justify the means. If they were all willing to give their lives for this mission then that should be more than mere words. If, by telling Samuels what he wanted - no - what he needed to hear meant he helped the rest of them get out of there without being killed, then that surely was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it?

  Lewis turned away from the younger man and Samuels rubbed the back of his neck with a weary hand. The thumping in his skull had returned but was more insistent this time, like shouting and arguing coming from the neighbours' house, too low to make out the words but loud enough to be a constant, nagging reminder. He guessed he must have knocked his head when he had been attacked, but nothing too serious, nothing that a couple of paracetamol wouldn’t fix.

  Lewis raised his radio to his lips again and pushed the ‘Press-To-Talk’ button. “Wood, Lewis here. How goes it?”

  After a brief interchange with Wood another voice came on the radio. “How’s everything going sir?”

  “All good so far Darby. Nothing much to report. How are you and Berthon?”

  “This is Berthon sir.”

  “Oh, sorry, I thought Darby had the radio. Is everything okay?” He had not noticed the change of voice. It can be hard to distinguish different people over the radio but his mistake surprised him as the two men sounded absolutely nothing like each other in the flesh.

  There was a pause before Berthon answered. “Yes sir, everything’s totally under control. Nothing we can’t handle.”