'Well, that's a load of crap! What's going on?'
Baker didn't bother to avoid the question; he simply let it crash over him and ignored it completely. He knew that Colinson was reading him like a badly written children's book, but at that moment, he just didn't care.
'Nothing.' Again, his voice was as flat as a sheet of polished glass. Colinson nodded; he could see Baker was stonewalling and no matter how he phrased a question, it wasn't going to be answered any time soon. Changing tactic, he grimaced inwardly as his professor's nasalised tones invaded his mind.
Now remember, David, if you can't get into their mind with kindness, there is always the proverbial sledgehammer of reverse psychology that we know as blunt-force nastiness.
Colinson shrugged off the subconscious lecture and ploughed on.
'Derek, I need your head in the game; this isn't a simple smash and destroy. There is a high civilian population in and around that hospital. A lot of lives depend on us keeping our heads together and getting this done quickly. I can't send you in if you're not one hundred percent. I need to know your shit is squared away; we don't need another Panjshir.'
Baker's eyes flared red as those words left Colinson's mouth. His feet shifted as he prepared to lunge, then before he could register what was happening, he was staring at the ceiling. Colinson's blonde-haired head peered down at him over the top of an outstretched hand.
Baker slapped the hand away and pushed himself to his feet, his eyes burning with undisguised rage. Colinson stepped forwards, his open-palmed hands slamming into Derek's shoulders. 'What the fuck is wrong with you? Come on, damn it, tell me. You're a god damned SAU operator; fucking act like it!'
Derek bounced off the wall, file cabinets clanking from the force of his impact against the plasterboard.
Baker's eyes blazed as he stared at Colinson, his teeth clamped together so tightly his gums were slowly starting to bleed. He shook with rage and self-loathing. He was angry not only with himself but also at life and his situation. The problems between him and Janet that, for all his rumination and late night pondering, he could not understand. The widening gulf between them that he couldn't—no matter how much he tried—find a way to bridge.
'You want to know what's wrong? You really want to know what's wrong? Well, I don't fucking know; I ... do ... not ... know.'
Baker smashed his fist into the wall, his hand crashing through the paper-backed plasterboard. Flecks of pink coloured powder floated through the air. Wrenching his fist from the wall, he stared at the blood dripping from the creases of his fingers as it slowly pulsed from his knuckles. He flicked his hand, watching as the red globules of ruby coloured blood arced and splattered across the dull-grey painted plaster of Colinson's office wall.
Colinson observed the unfolding situation silently as Baker vented his anger. He looked on with impassive eyes as Baker rinsed the plaster from his torn knuckles in his office sink. The chilled water gushed from the tap, splashing in a never-ending torrent over the ripped and slashed skin. With utter indifference, Baker slowly picked the pieces of stained gypsum from between his fingers.
Droplets of his blood slipped free of his skin, falling into the water, twisting through the flow as they stretched into a diluted mist of blood. Their once ruby red forms lost as the water pulled them apart. Its unfeeling form decimating their tender morphing droplets as it swirled around the white porcelain sink.
'Feel better?'
Baker snorted at the question. 'Not particularly, I know for a fact that my knuckles will be the size of a midget's balls by tomorrow.'
Colinson smiled wanly. 'Not what I was asking and you know it. What's going on between you and Janet? You were both fine at the New Year's party.'
Baker winced at the memory. He turned to face Colinson, a dull lifeless smirk playing across his features. 'Then, mate, you're not as good of a skull scooper as you think you are. Shit hasn't been straight between me and Janet since before the baby was born; and to be honest, bud, I don't know if it ever will be again. I just don't know how to fix it. Fuck, dealing with a dozen Infected in nothing but a mankini and armed with a damned tooth pick would be easier than figuring this shit out.'
Images of the party danced through Baker's mind despite how he longed to forget that night. The party itself had gone down brilliantly; the events after had been some that the unit wouldn't easily forget. Returning with two men down was never an easy thing to witness, especially for the women. Their expectant gazes were some that would haunt Derek for as long as he remained bound to the earth. The looks on their faces as they watched them walk away from the rain-slicked parade grounds and the sudden shattering of all their worldly dreams as they saw the two black rain-drenched bags atop the chromed steel gurneys.
'Honestly, I don't know what it is. It's not baby blues or anything like that; Janet has been to see the postnatal nurse and all that crap. It's just something has changed with us, and I can't for the life of me figure out what it is; it's driving me nuts, Dave, it really is.'
Colinson nodded as Baker spoke. Lifting a box of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, he pulled one out before offering the open packet to Baker. It took a lot of willpower for Baker to refuse, but he did. Shrugging, Colinson slipped the now closed packet into his shirt pocket as he picked up the polished-steel Zippo lighter. A soft click issued from his hand as he flicked open the petrol-filled metal lighter and ran his thumb over the striker wheel. Light flared over Colinson's features as the shard of flint sparked against the bevelled disk.
Smoke curled from his lips as he drew deeply from the cigarette before speaking again. A cloud of blue-tinged smoke issued from his mouth, then with a soft, contemplative tone he spoke.
'How you been sleeping? Both of you, not just yourself.'
Baker laughed sardonically. 'What's that when it's at home? Look, Dave, this isn't the time to do this shit. We make it back in one piece, we can sit down and talk as long as you want.'
Colinson sighed as he weighed up the words he was about to put forth.
'Derek, you're grounded; until I can do a full evaluation or you're cleared by Conerly, you're off the duty roster. It's not something I wanted, but I can't have you in the field like this. Richards and Stabbler are going in with Team Three. I am sorry, mate, but that's how it is.'
Baker stopped his movements as he listened to Colinson. Turning, he glared at his friend and fellow officer.
'My wife and daughter are trapped somewhere in that hospital—the hospital where my daughter was born; nothing is going to keep me away.'
Derek continued to hold Colinson's eyes as the man slowly mulled over Baker's words.
'I'm sorry, Derek, but the decision is final. Until you're cleared, you're shelved. Combat operations can—and do—go on without you.'
Baker's jaw clenched, then without saying a word, Baker shoved Colinson's office door open and walked out. Sighing, Colinson sunk into his office chair. With a deep sigh soaked in regret, he cursed, tossing the small steel lighter across his desk and onto the floor where it lay glinting in the afternoon sun.
'Fuck it!'
Central Middlesex Hospital
Janet watched as the woman pushed herself tighter and tighter into the corner, the screams of the Sco19 officer slipping through the halls rending the last of her tattered psyche to shreds.
Kevin had a hand clamped tightly over the mouths of the two children he held in his lap, their prepubescent arms wrapped about his slim middle. A soft shushing emanated from him as he watched the blurred, shadowed wraith on the other side of the frosted glass. The hushed feral, almost primal sniffing echoed through the now empty corridors as it ferreted out its prey. A small squeak issued forth from Maria as Janet pulled herself away from the slowly encroaching pool of viscous blood creeping its way towards her.
The silence was broken by a soft, almost gentle sound. Janet glanced up at the window, the figure now gone. Her brow furrowed deeply as the sound grew. It coalesced into a soft roar as it slowly i
nched its way towards the cowering clutch. Setting Maria down as gently as possible, she watched for any sign from the blissfully unaware form that she was about to stir, then once satiated, she leant her head to the floor and peered over the red mire.
The glistening pool of shimmering red reflected a sight that she wished could be purged from her mind the moment she saw it.
Roysten, the forty-three year old senior nurse, was knelt, his staff shirt stained a russet red in the steaming, rapidly congealing pool emanating from the dismembered remains. His tongue slipped over his lips as he sucked the life-giving fluid from the linoleum tiles; he sucked greedily at the still warm fluid as it slid over his chin and fell in a pattering rain only to return again as he ventured forth. Snatches of sinew clung to his balding scalp as he leant down, his head seemingly swallowed by the hollowed remains of another hospital worker.
The corpse's face, too decimated to be recognisable, stared at the ceiling, its jaw locked open in a scream that would forever echo in eternity. A dull glow emanated from its mouth as Roysten dove once again, pushing aside the veil of offal and organ matter.
The former nurse paused momentarily; his head cocked to one side as his eyes shone with confusion. Reaching in, his torn and twisted nails scraped at the inside of his own mouth before returning with the offending object. The small steel slither glimmered in the harsh halogen light as he pulled the pin from the side of his mouth. Staring at it, he momentarily sucked on the steel needle before casting it aside and diving once more into his liquid feast.
Janet slowly pushed herself upright. Her face was an incomprehensible mask as she once more picked up Maria and cradled her child. Kevin stared at her for any sign or inclination as to what she had seen as Janet slowly began to rock back and forth, her knees pulled up tight together as sheltered her sleeping child. The woman in the corner began to groan, her low-pitched mewling whine echoing through the dank quiet of the room.
Kevin looked at her and growled a low, semi-muffled curse.
'Shut the fuck up, you bimbo; want to get us all killed?'
Her head lolled like a cut marionette. The line of speckled saliva hanging from her lips made the children in Kevin's grip squirm and cry in fear. Their hot tears cascaded over his fingers as he hurriedly pushed them behind him and told them to be quiet. Stroking their hair, he looked down into two very frightened faces.
'Hush now, it's going to be fine. I promise.'
The children gazed up at him, their faces full of fear and insecure trust in the man before them.
'Kevin, what are you doing?'
Janet had stood, fishing a heavy-grade cardboard box from a shelf and settling Maria on top of the pile of sterile white blankets within it before pushing the sleeping babe onto a shelf just above her head.
'What I have to.'
The whole conversation had taken place in a whispered instant as he crossed the seven feet to the woman and knelt in front of her. Her moaning grew in frequency and pitch the closer he drew. Stuffing his morals and Hippocratic Oath into a box, he reached forwards, placing a hand on the woman's chin and one behind her head.
He tilted her head back and gazed at her eyes. The glassy, dilated pupils and blood-tinged whites told him all he needed to know. In a sudden and vicious move, he severed her spine. The audible crunch of shattering cartilage was muffled by his body and arms as he all but set her head in reverse.
Relinquishing his hold on her head, he watched her body slide sideways. With a gentle care shown only to those destined to die, he lay her out on the floor, resting her now disconnected head on one folded arm.
Turning to the children in the corner, he smiled. Lifting one extended finger, he pressed it to his pursed lips, and then pointed to the woman on the floor.
'Sleeping.'
Both children nodded and continued to huddle in the corner. Turning to Janet, he flicked his gaze to the door then back to the woman; in a slow and deliberate motion, he tapped the bottoms of his eyelids. The silent signal told her all she needed to know. The woman had somehow contracted the virus. Mouthing a thank you, Janet stood once more and stretched, pulling the box containing her infant daughter from the shelf and setting it gently on the floor.
Kevin reached out, shifting the now dead woman slightly and searched any exposed areas of skin. Lifting the tight ringlets of hair from the back of her neck, his gaze alighted on six viciously deep and angry-looking welts; the oozing and broken dermis was a livid blue-tinged red. Letting them fall back into place, he stood and sat down next to the two children again.
Looking around him, he took stock of the contents of the small utility room and smiled. He turned his gaze to the youngest of the pair. 'Want to play a game?'
The girl nodded, her blonde bob bouncing as she demonstrated her enthusiasm.
'Okay, I want both of you, while sitting here, to look around the room and find as many things beginning with the letter M as you can.'
The children grinned, their slight fidgeting forms diligently scanning the room for anything with the letter M printed on its surface.
Their eyes peered with an innate level of curiosity only known by the young—the ones who thirst for the unknown and the sense of wonder anything new brings. Kirsty sat with her hands curled beneath her buttocks and her legs folded under her. Her bottom lip curled over her lower teeth as she gently chewed at it in intense concentration. Thoughts of their missing parents were pushed aside for the moment as the children gazed about them in search of their wayward letter.
Kevin slipped across the room, hunched over like a demented crab. His trainer-covered feet uttered the slightest of squeaks as he pushed himself into a sitting position next to his fellow physician. Janet leant over, whispering from the corner of her mouth as she watched the shadow image playing across the floor, its flat ghost-like form slipping over her feet as it wormed its way under the door.
'How'd she contract it?'
Kevin's face dropped, his head falling backwards into the stack of plastic containers; liquid sloshed against the sides of the ten-litre jug. It made him shiver slightly as the cold filtered through the semi-transparent surface. His brow furrowed as he turned and looked at the jugs behind him. The industrial cleaner shimmered in the low light as it rocked back and forth, trapped inside its plastic prison.
The printed label pasted across its flat, lifeless surface made him cringe. His eyes roamed its glossed surface as he took in the coloured symbols before him. The small yellow circle made his eyes widen slightly as he looked at the hand inside it, the small test-tube suspended over it, and the droplets falling towards the black silhouette, slowly eating their way through its shadowed form.
The words burned themselves into his eyes as he read them. Caution: Corrosive. Scooting over, he made Janet frown as he forced her to move. Maria whimpered from within her cardboard cot, her small form squirming against the bundles of plastic-wrapped cotton. Janet's soft voice rolled its way over the small bundle of softly gurgling life as she gently stroked the silken strands of her daughter's hair. Janet smiled as her hand passed over the smooth, warm skin of her daughter's head.
'There were small lacerations to the back of her neck, just below the base of her neck, and running down between her shoulder blades.'
His whispered words sent a small shiver down Janet's spine as she glanced at the children, still diligently searching the room.
'They going to find anything with an M on it?'
Kevin smiled at Janet's question, a sly grin forming on his aquiline features. 'Nope; nothing in here with an M on it.'
Despite the situation and the noises filtering their way through the door, Janet found herself chuckling at the naivety of the two children. Her head cocked to the side in a moment of clarity as she gazed at the slim form of the girl.
'Kirsty.'
The child turned and looked at Janet, her deep brown eyes locking on to her own as the young waif gazed at her with a look of fearful questioning.
'Yes?'
The flakes of dried blood fluttered free as her peach-coloured nail picked at it; lifting her fingers, she moved the encrusted nail towards her lips intent on ferreting out the clotted life's fluid from beneath her nail.
With the reflexes of a steroid-infused cobra, Janet lunged, seizing the girl's wrist. The extended finger was mere millimetres from her mouth. Lucy stared at the woman clutching her wrist with a terrified mix of confusion and pain as Janet slowly pulled her hand away from its former destination.
'Now, sweetie, you know that's not a nice thing to do. You don't know what you have gotten on that jumper; come with me and we will get it all cleaned off, okay?'
Designated (Book 2): Designated Quarantined Page 5