by James Somers
Helicopters maneuver close to buildings. The report of gunfire can be heard even with the car windows rolled up. Vladimir estimates shooting individuals with snipers will quickly prove ineffective. At this rate of infection, these zombies are going to reproduce themselves much faster than the civilian and military response teams can kill them.
They might be voracious eaters, but the human body can only hold and process so much food. Vladimir has seen them attacking and eating people, but not everyone they catch. Otherwise, there would be one hugely bloated zombie and all of its victims would be dead, producing no more. No, they’re mostly attacking, wounding and infecting their victims. Then these become new predators looking for food and others to infect.
Suddenly, here on the ground in this situation, the futility he saw in Ivanovich’s gaze makes sense. His chief already understands what will happen to this city. It may be London, one of the oldest and greatest cities in the world, but it is going to fall.
They won’t be able to stop it, not with these methods. Anything more will also kill the civilian population caught in the midst of these things, and the bureaucrats don’t make tough decisions swiftly. By the time they realize they should use nukes, it will be too late. The infection will have spread throughout the city and likely beyond.
At this point they might still salvage something, but only if they work quickly. Vladimir mulls the situation over in his mind and knows what might work. If they establish a perimeter well beyond any known infections and are willing to sacrifice everything and everyone within that area, they might just contain the outbreak. Yet, drastic measures like that will never happen. Instead, committees will be formed. Voting by conscience will have to take place. The human factor, Vladimir muses. It always works that way.
In the meantime, these zombies have no fear and no remorse. They kill and infect others with impunity. The virus spreads without respect to persons or governments. And it will continue to spread.
Still, there is one hope. England is an island. Zombies probably don’t swim. If it can be contained here in Britain long enough for him to get the boy and bring him back to Russia, Vladimir can suggest the tough choice to his superiors. Lay waste to the UK with a nuclear strike. Make the tough choice for the world and save it from disaster.
If the boy does produce a cure for their country, then they have a contingency. Even if the virus spreads beyond Britain, they’ll have a way to combat it at the source. If any country stands in Russia’s way, they are strong enough to bully through. If they have a cure, his homeland will have all of the bargaining power it needs to become the greatest superpower the world has ever known.
Vladimir buries the gas pedal on the floor, pushing the sports car even harder. He has no time to waste. He passes police cars heading in the opposite direction. They pay him no mind.
He hits the brakes hard as he comes upon a line of police cars. Their blue lights churn on top of their roofs. A swathe of bodies lies around the area, many of them on this side of the roadblock. However, as Vladimir draws closer, he sees the police officers are also dead. Some of them are so brutalized they barely resemble bodies at all.
They made a stand here, and they all died. Perhaps some of them ran before it was too late. However, if they went on foot like the officers he saw near the museum, then they were run down eventually. These things don’t worry about fatigue. They consume mass quantities of flesh and burn through it. Since they disregard pain and normal people don’t, they’re bound to catch up when their prey grows weak and tired.
Vladimir makes a path along one sidewalk and then breaks out with all of the considerable speed the Porsche can muster. Vauxhall Bridge is soon in his sights ahead, the Thames coursing beneath. However, there is some activity on the bridge.
Police officers and army personnel are up to something. What traffic there is has been diverted on the other side. They appear to be working on the same thing on his side. They might be setting up another roadblock hoping to stop them from getting across the river.
As Vladimir draws near, he slows his vehicle. A policeman in an orange vest is waving him down. If he stops, they’ll divert him. The lanes are still clear here. As he slows and the man taps on his driver’s side window, Vladimir downshifts and slams his foot on the gas pedal. He doesn’t have time to stop.
The Porsche surges forward again, leaving the man swearing behind him. He barrels past men coming onto his lane wheeling a crate labeled explosives on the side of the plastic box. They aren’t barricading it, they are preparing to blow it up. He will not be able to travel back to Heathrow this way.
No time to worry about that now. He can round the city, if need be, in order get across the Thames. He just has to get the boy first.
The Porsche rockets across the empty bridge. What does it matter if the police, or even the military, don’t want him coming through. Are they really going to bother chasing him during a crisis like this? Absolutely not. The infection is spreading. They can’t afford to worry about anything else right now.
In seconds, Vladimir crosses Vauxhall Bridge. He whips the wheel to the left and wrenches the emergency brake, drifting the car into the SIS Building lot at breakneck speed. Undoubtedly he’s on camera already, but who can afford to worry about a speeding car at a time like this?
Vladimir rounds the building and ducks below into the parking garage. He glances at the backpack on the passenger seat. He has everything he should need to get inside.
Fortunately, Vladimir does not have to go into the SIS Building proper. He’ll descend into the Tombs, a research laboratory beneath SIS about which the general public has no knowledge. However, almost nothing is truly secret among the intelligence community. Russia knew about the lab when it was still in the planning phase.
Detailed blueprints of the structure, memorized while in the air to England, lead him down, down, down to the last level of the parking garage beneath SIS. He finds the appropriate parking space and pulls the Porsche up to the concrete wall. Removing his wireless device from the knapsack, he brings up his Bluetooth function, entering the code his contact conveyed to Ivanovich.
The code transmits. He waits and waits some more. After several moments, the concrete parts and a section of the wall large enough to accommodate a full size SUV moves aside, revealing another parking lot ahead. As expected, Vladimir has found the parking structure for the Tombs Laboratory.
He pulls forward, allowing the wall to replace itself behind him. Parking the sports car in the nearest space, he outfits himself with the ceramic Glock. If and when he is asked to leave his weapons behind at a checkpoint, he’ll still be able to go in with this weapon undetected.
The MP5K is too large and conspicuous, although he’s considering a strategy inside that could nullify any scrutiny he might face. Still, he leaves it behind and exits the vehicle. The lab coat stays in the front seat, but he has the badge with its embedded microchip and his contact lenses for the retinal scan. And another item he’s kept in store.
Vladimir walks up to the single elevator and scans his eye. The badge he waves across a metal pad below it. The elevator opens, allowing him inside. There are no controls, and he issues no command. This elevator only goes to one place. The doors close a moment later and his descent toward the Tombs begins.
When the door opens, he steps out quickly toward the single window opposite the elevator. Vladimir recognizes the bulletproof Plexiglas pane. It’s going to stop firearms for sure, but not the extra item he’s carried with him.
A woman sits behind the window. He doesn’t wait for her to address him, knowing the microphone will carry his voice to her. He mimics a perfect British accent now.
“We’ve got to get the boy out!” he cries.
Immediately the woman reacts with confusion and fear. The human factor. He has the appearance and access of an SIS agent, but he looks terrified and he’s shouting about danger. Of course, her reaction will be fear—fear of an unknown danger.
“What are
you talking about?”
“Don’t you know what’s happening in the city?” Vladimir asks, as if it is common knowledge despite their being cut off from the world outside.
“What’s happening?” she asks, clearly skeptical but unsure.
“The hospital attack!” he shouts. “It wasn’t contained! The infection is spreading throughout the city. I’ve been sent to evacuate the facility and make sure Jonathan Parks is moved to a more secure location. SIS is being evacuated as we speak. The bridge is about to be blown to stop the infected getting across the Thames!”
“What? The same infection as the hospital?”
She knows about the victims they have housed in this complex. She has seen the horrible state of these creatures. Vladimir sees the fear in her eyes. She’s pliable now.
“I’ve got to speak to Dr. Albert immediately!”
The left door is buzzed. She lets him through, waving him inside. He has manipulated her fear. The human factor works again.
“Wait inside while I get Dr. Albert,” she cries, as she runs from her control booth, already shouting down the hall for Dr. Albert who must be somewhere nearby.
Vladimir walks through the door as it opens for him. He stands in a locker room complete with a shower stall and several orange jumpsuit uniforms on hangars. The door to the vestibule closes.
Another door opens, revealing two security guards assigned to the lab. These will be ex-military for sure—people who know how to handle themselves. Their hands are already on their weapons.
He makes no threatening move, rather Vladimir puts on a relieved to see you expression. He hopes to deflate their anxiety and have them disarmed emotionally. One of the men moves toward him, while the other remains an appropriate distance away.
Vladimir almost smiles at this maneuver. They hope to keep one man out of reach so he can shoot him if a melee erupts suddenly. Little do they know they are dealing with one of the most dangerous assassins in the world.
He raises his hands, allowing his suit jacket, which is unbuttoned, to fan out. Vladimir’s Sig Sauers are exposed. The guard sees these, but doesn’t appear to be surprised.
“I’m glad to see you fellows,” Vladimir says. “It’s getting absolutely crazy out there on the street.”
“You’ll have to surrender your weapons, sir,” the closer guard says.
“Absolutely,” Vladimir says, keeping his hands up.
Dried rivulets of blood on his face and forehead speak to something traumatic. Vladimir looks a bit disheveled and undone. This part isn’t an act. The car crash and subsequent melee with the zombies at the museum have unraveled his suave demeanor.
However, he’s using this to add to his convincing ruse to get the boy. Certainly, the truth is on his side. London is in chaos. The bridge is about to be blown, and the SIS may soon be evacuated, though it will take more than zombies to have that part happen.
The guard eases Vladimir’s weapons out of their shoulder holster. The assassin makes no move to stop him. He remains the picture of compliance. Dr. Albert has not emerged yet.
“I’ve got a Glock in my back,” he offers, raising his hands even higher so his suit jacket ascends to reveal it. A slow pivot brings the weapon into view. The guard takes this also and then pats him down for anything else, taking no chances.
He finds a device in Vladimir’s pocket. It appears to be a smart phone. However, it is anything but a cell phone. If the screen is activated and a certain code entered, the device will arm itself and become an explosive device complete with a magnetic backing for premium placement.
Stepping back, the guard says to his partner, “He’s good.”
The other guard speaks through his earpiece. “Were good for Dr. Albert now,” he says.
The guard closest to Vladimir sets his weapons on the bench about ten feet away and stands as a barrier between them. It’s an automatic tactic. Vladimir doesn’t feel they’re actually threatened by him now. This is exactly the way he wants them to feel—at ease.
“What’s going on up there?” the closer guard asks now.
“The same thing that happened to those victims at the hospital,” he says. “We’re not sure how, but one of them must have been missed, or something. People are turning into ravenous cannibals, attacking anyone they can find.
The guard near the second door curses. “Really? The ones we have down here go nuts as soon as they see someone.”
“I can’t imagine those things running free,” the closer guard says. “What’s the response so far?”
“You guys really are isolated down here,” Vladimir observes. “Has no one told you any of this? Have you not seen the news reports? It’s pandemonium up there, and we’re not winning the fight. Their getting ready to blow Vauxhall Bridge as we speak.”
The guards shake their heads and curse in disbelief.
Vladimir keeps the grin off of his face. They are at ease with him now. He’s not lying to them, making it much easier. They don’t know what’s happening, but his apparent agent status and his banged up condition lends credibility to his story.
The door opens again, allowing a man in a lab coat to come through. His badge identifies him as Dr. Albert. The middle-aged woman who was in the control booth to greet him stands behind the doctor, looking like she very much wants to hear what’s happening up top.
The doctor walks between the guards, giving Vladimir a cursory look. “What’s this all about?”
“We have a crisis spreading across London, Dr. Albert,” Vladimir says. “We believe Jonathan Parks may be in critical danger if he remains in this facility. I’ve been sent to move him to a secure location.”
Dr. Albert remains suspicious. “I can assure you this facility is entirely secure. We’ll find out what’s going on above. Until that time, I suggest you remain with us while we get to the bottom of this. If everything you say is true, then we can discuss further—”
The throwing knife Vladimir had hidden up his right sleeve impales Dr. Albert through the throat, silencing him. The assassin sweeps his right leg out, hooking the lower leg of the closer guard. The guard’s leg is pulled out from under him as Vladimir retrieves his second throwing knife hidden up his left sleeve and hurls it at the guard standing near the door.
The guard at the door manages only to pull his gun from its holster before the blade buries into his sternum. He doesn’t even fire one shot. Vladimir kicks back at the face of the closer guard on the ground, smashing him across the bridge of the nose, driving bone fragments into his brain.
In three and a half seconds, two armed guards and Dr. Albert are dead. The door is still open behind Albert’s body, and the woman only now registers what’s happened. As she turns to run, Vladimir retrieves his silenced Sig Sauers from the bench and places one shot into her back. She goes down hard in the short corridor beyond the door. No one else seems to be around at the moment.
Vladimir outfits himself again. He replaces his Sig Sauers, the Glock and his fake cell phone. He also removes the two throwing knives from his victims. Lastly, he removes Dr. Albert’s pass badge. This item will allow him access anywhere in the facility.
The assassin paces down the hall past the dead woman. The control booth is open. He steps inside. On one wall is the bullet proof Plexiglas pane overlooking the vestibular area. Several computer displays show him various locations throughout the facility.
Two of these monitors show him the current location of every guard on a map appearing as blue markers. Also on this display is the location of every employee with a red marker. Dr. Albert is currently shown in the security control booth by the badge in Vladimir’s hand. He clips the badge on his suit jacket for good measure.
There are more guards than Vladimir planned for. There are more than fifty identified as such not including another fifty employees who might or might not be armed. He has to get to the boy, who is not identified on the map.
Then he notices one employee name. She’s in one of the infirmary rooms w
ith two guards. Strange. He wonders if she might have the boy with her.
He keys up the video feed for this room with a right click on the mouse. A woman is present and two armed agents. A teenage boy is also present, wearing a hospital gown. He climbs onto an examination bed like those found in a typical doctor’s office.
Time is running out, and the situation in London is getting worse. The boy is the priority. If a call goes out that an armed intruder is on the loose, more agents may be sent to deal with the situation.
Vladimir locks down the infirmary room. They can open the doors, but anyone attempting to get in from the outside will be locked out. Then he cuts communication through all of the network earpieces worn by the guards. The only way to communicate with the surface should be through the control room, or internet access that may be available in the labs. Those he has no control over, but at least the guards will have no communication with one another.
The assassin looks at the barrier doors. He has control of them in the same way the woman was able to open to him a few minutes ago. Vladimir opens all of the computer controlled doors that create automatically locking barriers. They slide open and remain this way.
He glances back and forth at the Biohazard Containment area on the map monitors. The victims of the hospital attack mentioned by his contact agent are said to be housed inside these cells. Vladimir moves the mouse over each one and finds the command functions.
He can do several things from here. He can mirror the inner front wall, blinding the creatures to the corridor beyond. He can control climate within the cells. And he can raise and lower the cell doors, allowing whatever is kept inside to go free.
The boy is locked down in the infirmary. The guards are deaf to one another. The victims of the hospital attack can create chaos and eliminate the guards and other employees for him while he gets the boy and his contact out of the Tombs.
One by one, Vladimir lowers every Biohazard Containment cell door. He pulls up the video feed on this corridor in time to see the first few stepping out into the hall with murder in their eyes. He watches the feed into the infirmary, glancing at the others in turn, keeping track of what’s going on.