Plague War (Book 3): Retaliation

by Hodge, Alister

  ‘You said something about them stopping families from fortifying their own properties? That doesn’t make sense,’ said Mark.

  ‘It does from their point of view. In the beginning of the plague, the Spartans openly fought the Infected hand in hand with other citizens, clearing the town and fortifying the margins of the city centre. But then their actions became more like a ‘protection’ racket. They began pressuring families to avoid adding defences to their own houses, saying that they could depend on the Spartans to give aid. But most of us saw their motives for what they were – they just wanted to ensure no one could defend themselves against the club itself.’

  ‘Is that why no-one seems to live in the town despite the barricade?’ asked Vinh, his brow creased in concern. ‘Because they’re scared of the Spartans?’

  ‘Yep. They treat women like objects, taking what they wanted from those in town. Most people fled to outlying farms where it was less easy for the club to visit. But they still do from time to time,’ said Joel, looking like he had a foul taste in his mouth. ‘It’s also why I’m stuck with nothing more than a set of bells to warn of Carrier attack.’

  ‘You said the Spartans were sending you a message via that kid with the chewed legs?’ asked Mark. ‘If they wanted you dead, surely there’s more direct options than that?’

  ‘I’ve openly opposed their club president too many times for them to let it lie, but I’ve still got a little influence in the area, so they’ve avoided targeting me so far.’ Joel paused. Although his eyes were open, his focus was inward. ‘That kid’s death was my fault. His father, a man named Reg, backed my calls for the Spartans to stay off the farms, and I reckon they wanted to show what would happen to people if they took my side.’

  ‘But using a Carrier to kill the kid?’ asked Mark.

  ‘They use fear as a deterrent. Can you imagine watching your kid getting torn apart by one of those things?’ said Joel. ‘And they know I’ve managed to lay down a crop. If they were going to have a chance for the boy to get close enough to potentially do some damage, they needed him to stay out of sight. Chew out his legs – problem solved.’

  Mark glanced at his watch. Time was getting on, he had less than an hour of daylight. Joel had given him some things to consider, but he wasn’t keen to form a judgment based on one man’s opinion. He needed more evidence before he was willing to decide. He glanced across at Vinh, tapping his leg to get his attention.

  ‘We need to get going. Thanks for the information today, Mr Tipper. I’ll take your advice into consideration as we move forward,’ said Mark, as he rose to standing.

  Joel looked concerned as he stared up at him. ‘What do you mean “into consideration”? You’re kidding yourself if you think the Spartans are going to take interference lying down. They’ve already forcibly recruited young men from the area. If you don’t strike first and hit them hard, you’ll be putting not only your soldiers at risk – but more importantly, the lives of anyone who decides to support your efforts.’

  ‘If they’re stupid enough to attack my soldiers, they’ll pay for it in blood,’ said Mark, unmoved by Joel’s words. The farmer’s jaw bunched with frustration, but he let the topic drop and walked them back to the front door.

  ‘I’ll be calling a town meeting shortly, and I’d appreciate if you could notify anyone likely to aid us in getting the town off its knees and functioning,’ said Mark, as he shook Joel’s hand in farewell.

  ‘I’ll do what I can, but don’t expect a big turnout. Until the Spartans are gone, few will volunteer to place their neck on a chopping block.’

  Joel watched the two soldiers drive away. He’d done what he could to warn them, but knew it hadn’t been enough to convince the officer to launch a proactive campaign against the Spartans. He felt old in his skin, more tired than he’d been for years. Not only would his family be facing the constant danger of Carrier attack, they’d now be a target of the Spartans.

  Joel looked down at the corpse by his feet, his eyes drawn to the mutilated lower limbs. By fighting back, it wasn’t just himself he was risking, he was past the point of caring for his own life. But that of his kids was a different matter. Joel forced himself into action, driving his spade into the earth with more force than necessary. He wanted the grave dug and Carrier gone from his sight, because as the light faded around him, all he could imagine was his own son’s face staring up at him from the corpse below.

  ***

  Mark did a last walk around the perimeter of the hall to satisfy himself that all weaknesses in the external structure had been negated. There were only two external doors and the windows along each side were well above head height, however, he was determined not to overlook a subfloor entry point. Despite the town’s barricade, he had no plans on letting down his guard, and until he knew more about the Spartans, he considered them an additional threat.

  He finished his loop at the front entrance of the hall and turned on the spot, shining the torch in a slow circle to confirm that he was still alone. Mark was about to knock on the door to gain entry when he had a sudden thought. He stretched up one hand and brushed it along the lintel above the entrance. A smile kinked the corner of his mouth as his fingers knocked something cool and metallic to jingle on the ground. A set of keys. Mark leant down to collect his find and tried the first one in the lock. With a light click, the mechanism opened, allowing the door to swing inward a few centimetres.

  He looked straight into the end of a rifle barrel, a little black eye that held a promise of death.

  ‘Sorry Boss,’ said the Private on guard duty, dipping the rifle as he recognized his officer. ‘You gave me a surprise. I didn’t think we’d found any keys for the hall?’

  ‘Well, we have now,’ said Mark, tossing him the set. ‘Might as well deadlock it from inside.’

  Leaving the sentry to his job, he walked into the town hall where the men were camped. Built in the 1930’s, the building had seen little maintenance in the subsequent years. Paint bubbled and curled off the exterior weatherboard like flakes of psoriasis, littering the ground beneath with small particles of white. A large room where country debutants had once danced the night away on wooden floors consumed the interior. The same floorboards were now warped and bounced underfoot, much of the underlying structure probably eaten by termites long before. His soldiers had laid out sleep mats on the floor along the walls, their gear kept contained in packs for prompt evacuation at the smallest notice. Several of the men had already passed out, snoring softly in preparation for the next watch duty. A waist height stage was centred on the back wall with a door exiting to either side. One to the left gave access to a rudimentary kitchen, while the other led to a backstage room that Mark had claimed for himself.

  He stifled a yawn as he made for his room, more than ready to pass out for a few hours sleep. After closing the door to the hall, he found Steph had placed her bedroll next to his. With the necessities of command and time in the field, the opportunities for them to spend the night in each other’s company had been far too few. She’d left on a gas lantern, parked a few feet to the side of their bedding that cast a warm yellow light. If Steph had been waiting up for him, she’d obviously failed in her attempt. Her eyes were closed and breathing deep, the bottom half of her body buried under an army issue sleeping bag. A light snore escaped her mouth, making Mark chuckle softly as he sat down and pulled his boots off. Blond hair that she usually kept in a functional ponytail was out for a change, pooled about her shoulders. She wore only a singlet top, and small goose bumps were raised along her arms in the cool evening.

  Their relationship had been accepted by the platoon long ago, neither of them providing any reason for others to complain. Steph fought as hard as any of the men and faced no fewer dangers because of her partner. Rather, Mark worried that she saw more than her share of action just to ensure that no mouths whispered behind their back.

  Mark eased himself into his own bag quietly to try and avoid waking her, then rolled ove
r resting his head on an arm for sleep. A light jab from a finger in his back made him turn around.

  ‘Oi, that’s a bit rude isn’t it? I’ve been waiting up half an hour for you,’ said Steph, smile lines at the corner of her eyes taking any sting from her words.

  ‘Give me a break, you were snoring your head off when I came in,’ said Mark, leaning over to give her a kiss. ‘I thought I was going to have to roll you on your side so you didn’t attract any Carriers onto us, the noise was so loud,’ he said, with mock seriousness.

  ‘You really know how to chat up a lady, Mark Collins. I guess I wasted my time, shaving my legs under that bloody cold tap then, eh?’ she said, one eyebrow raised. Steph reached one hand down to her shin and winced. ‘The razor was a piece of shit too; I swear I took off more skin than hair.’

  ‘How did you find time to do it?’ said Mark, looking a little bemused.

  ‘Well I won’t be doing it again, that’s for god damn sure. Some stupid rituals are better left in the old world I reckon,’ she said, unzipping the side of her bag. ‘Now, are you coming in or not?’

  He didn’t need much encouragement, unzipping his own bag and throwing it over the two of them like a blanket. Steph snuggled in under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. Mark pulled her in tight, relishing the feeling of her skin on his. His relationship with Steph was one of the few things he was grateful had occurred since the outbreak of the plague. In battle, she became a true warrior, a shield maiden suited for a Viking battlefield. And yet, when the danger subsided for a while, her wicked sense of humour and warmth helped to keep him sane.

  ‘Vinh said you found the mayor?’ she asked. ‘Does he reckon there’s enough survivors to get any farms working again?’

  ‘The area got hit hard, but around a third of the farming families are still on their land. Should be enough to get some produce heading to Geelong if we can get them on side.’

  ‘If?’ Step pulled back a little so she could see Mark’s face. ‘Why would anyone refuse?’

  ‘Remember those Bikies we saw? Turns out they’ve set themselves up as local warlords. Joel Tipper - the mayor, reckons most people will be afraid of helping us unless we can wipe out the club.’

  ‘That fits with another account I heard today. During the town sweep, we found a tough old bird living alone. Once she realised we were here to stay, she was happy to talk.’

  ‘And she backed up Joel’s story?’

  ‘Yep. Called them animals, and that she’d rather have a Carrier enter her home than one of the Spartans. Apparently, most people abandoned the town centre once the Spartans started abducting and assaulting any woman that took their fancy,’ Steph said with a grimace. ‘The woman had only stayed in town because she was too old for their taste, so got left alone.’

  ‘That’s two corroborating sources now, kind of makes it hard to ignore,’ muttered Mark.

  ‘So, hit them hard. They’re a risk to the mission, not to mention the platoon. Surely we should take the initiative and strike first, wipe them out before they have an opportunity to draw blood,’ said Steph.

  Mark chewed on his lip for a moment. ‘Yeah, but we don’t have artillery or air support to bomb the shit out of them. If the club’s barricaded, the chance of sustaining casualties during a direct assault will be high.’

  ‘Our armoured trucks would smash through any gate if we hit it hard enough.’

  ‘It’d still be one hell of a gamble. Plus, there’s more to consider in the equation.’

  ‘Like what?’ Steph was up on one elbow, cheeks pink as her rate of speech increased. ‘We’re here to get farms off the ground, Mark. If we get to wipe out a few degenerate rapists – it’s an added bonus. I don’t see why you’re stalling.’

  ‘The army needs more soldiers, and if they’ve got prior experience killing Infected, that’s even better. From Joel’s account, the Spartans have nearly thirty men in their ranks, and half those numbers were forcibly conscripted from the surrounding farms. If we bring the club to heel peacefully – that’s thirty experienced fighters we can gain for the army.’

  ‘Your logic’s flawed,’ said Steph. ‘Even if you could bring them on board, who’d trust them? As soon as they had wriggle room, they’d either mutiny or desert.’

  ‘The army presents an offer they can’t refuse, either transfer their loyalty or accept a much shorter lifespan,’ said Mark with a shrug. ‘You know how discipline is meted out in the troops; any bullshit will be kicked out of them quick smart, and besides, they’d be completely split up, no two men would be put into the same platoon.’

  Steph sighed as she lay back down. ‘Fine. I see your point, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Then again, I’d rather send those bastards out to fight than the kids we’ve been getting of late.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Mark, hugging her in closer, ‘Now can we forget Cob Hill for a moment?’

  ‘Only a moment?’ said Steph with a cheeky smile. ‘You’ve got to stop selling yourself short, babe.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Harry stared out the window of the ute as it sped along the Princes Highway. It was the fastest he’d been in a vehicle for months, the army having cleared all car wrecks from this section of road during the previous months. His presence had been requested to provide design input toward a new field hospital. Other than knowing it was for a future battlefield, Harry had little information about the task. It hadn’t been a request he could refuse. In reality, he was still a member of the armed forces and was only on secondment at the General’s discretion.

  Harry would have preferred to be in the lab, continuing work on Veronica’s latest plague breakthrough. As soon as she’d contacted the Council for Disease Containment (CDC), the government body responsible for coordinating national research efforts against the plague, they had instantly recognised the value of her finding. Within a day, the CDC flew her to Canberra where the necessary equipment and technology existed to make her theory into something tangible. This had left an increased load on Harry’s hands, not only in the lab, but also in his Emergency Department that now had to cope with one less doctor.

  Veronica had called him the day before, her excitement palpable as she announced a significant breakthrough. Her team had discovered a protein channel used by the virus to access the mitochondria. If they could only work out how to block this path into the cell organelle, it could stop the plague in its tracks, or at the least prevent it from reanimating a corpse. A possible cure was now painfully close, and here he was, stuck doing the bidding of the army for some project they would tell him nothing about.

  Movement off the road caught Harry’s eye. A pallid figure lurched slowly through waist high grass, destination unknown. Unconsciously, Harry brushed his fingers over the butt of his sidearm, checking that a means of self-defence was close at hand. Harry saw it register the noise of the ute, head flicking up to track their vehicle. What had been slack, aimless movement changed in an instant, became a frenzied motion toward them, rage and hunger writ large over its face.

  ‘I thought we’d cleared this area of plague?’ said Harry. His escort in the driver’s seat grunted. The man was grey around the temples, a career soldier that looked like he’d seen his fair share of combat.

  ‘We did,’ he said. ‘Killed everything that moved between Geelong and Footscray where the first advance was halted. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the occasional roaming Carrier from turning up, but at least there haven’t been any migrating swarms. The main body of Infected are still packed into the Melbourne CBD, stuck behind a purpose-built barricade on the Westgate Bridge.’

  Harry’s eyes tracked the flailing creature until it fell behind them and out of sight.

  ‘Do you know anything about this battlefield under construction?’ asked Harry. ‘I hadn’t heard a thing about it before today.’

  ‘And that’s the way General Black wants it for the moment. It’s a change in tactic, so until he can achieve a proof of concept, I don’t think
he wants to risk a publicized failure. That’s my take on it anyway,’ said the soldier, with a small shrug of his shoulders. ‘And when you see the sheer size of the project, you’ll understand why Black’s hedging his bets.’

  Harry’s interest was properly engaged. ‘So, what’s he doing?’

  ‘You can see firsthand when we arrive, it’s not much further down the road. Saves me the job of explaining.’ The soldier wasn’t forthcoming with any more information. Harry bit back the urge to question his escort further and forced himself to wait.

  The driver began to slow, gearing down as he pulled off the highway and onto a dirt road heading west. Low hills of the You Yangs National Park reared above the flat plains to the immediate south of the road.

  ‘Right, we’re here,’ said his driver. Stamping heavily on the brake, gravel skidded under the tyres as the ute came to a halt.

  Out of habit, Harry inspected the surrounds for any signs of Carrier before opening his door. They had stopped in a rough car park, the dirt underfoot churned into mud in many places by heavy vehicles. To the left was a massive holding bay for earth moving equipment, protected by a high chain-link fence. Harry climbed out of the ute and turned on the spot, taking in an earthen wall that soared above the north margin of the car park. About thirty feet in height, it continued to the west in a slight curve for a few hundred metres.

  On the Geelong side of the wall, a series of metal towers constructed from steel scaffolding sprouted from the ground, spaced at one hundred metre intervals. Atop each one at a height of fifty feet was a simple roofed enclosure.

  The soldier saw Harry’s inspection of the towers. ‘Snipers. They’re the true heroes of this operation to date.’ A barrel protruded from the hut on top of the nearest tower. Two sharp cracks rang out as the rifle fired at something over the wall, before the barrel was pulled back out of sight.