The Blood of the Infected (Book 1): Once Bitten, Twice Die

by Antony Stanton

  “Ah, I’m not quite as stupid as I look. I tell ya, stick with me honey and I’ll teach you things, never a dull moment.”

  For someone who did his very best at appearing cheesy and shallow, Collins found herself not for the first time considering that Bannister may have hidden depths.

  Although the sun was struggling to shine, everything seemed to be tinged with depressing, grey overtones. He was cheerful at first but Collins could tell Bannister’s mood had changed as they drove further from the safety of the station. He became brusque and professional as he scanned for potential threats. His manner made Collins tense and on edge. Samuels just sat silently throughout the journey. At a bend in the road she noticed some flowers had been tied to a lamppost. They had long since wilted - a forlorn reminder of someone’s personal grief; an emotion that now seemed so insignificant, being, as it was, currently shared by every surviving soul on the planet.

  Walkden was fidgeting with the microphone to the Bowman radio and staring out of the car from side to side. His mind was tormented with thoughts of a previous, disastrous foray. He had been close to Parsons in particular and his death had really shaken Walkden. He wondered who would be next to die? He could not escape the gnawing feeling that this trip would go no better and that this day was going to be his last. Hutchison glanced over at his commanding officer. He noticed the clammy skin around his jowls that hung loosely over his collar, the sweat marks on the shirt that was stretched a little too tightly by the portly frame unused to physical exercise, and the way his hands nervously scraped his grey fringe off his forehead every few seconds. Strewth! He’s got it bad, he thought. We need him to get a grip.

  He tried to calm Walkden’s nerves with idle conversation. “How did your first excursion go boss?”

  “Huh?” Walkden replied after a moment. “Oh yeah, okay I guess.” He paused, before making further chat. “And you, how many times have you been off station?”

  “With this trip now, that makes five so far. A couple were uneventful, a couple less so. But hey, all in a day’s work, right?”

  Walkden just muttered some reply and went back to staring out the window. Hutchison sighed inwardly and made a mental note to be extra cautious. He winked in the rear view mirror at Neale who raised his eyebrows despairingly in reply.

  As they neared town Collins became aware of how strange the world now seemed. Only on rare occasions before had she witnessed the streets so deathly quiet, such as during a soccer world cup final, in the morning on New Year’s Day or a nationally important event. There was a peculiar, unreal quality to the town, as though they were driving through a large movie set. She found the frequent reminders of normal life truly disturbing. These were impressed upon her memory like snap-shots played at double-speed. She could not help but wonder at the pain and suffering each of these little vignettes must have borne witness to over the last few days and weeks. It made her feel guilty for having been sheltered behind the safety of the base whilst those without literally fought tooth and claw to survive, rather like visiting an intensely poor country as a relatively wealthy tourist. Like all of them it was a time for emotional reverie and she had to force these useless thoughts away. Focus Collins, focus, she told herself.

  In the rear vehicle Walkden checked in with Headley Court on the radio. He heard the reassuringly chirpy voice of Senior Aircraftman Ric Masters, a reminder that safety was only a short drive away, although a few miles can sometimes be an awfully long way. Hutchison and Neale both grew silent and morose, straining to see any potential hostiles; or possibly even friendlies.

  Many windows were smashed and glass and debris littered the streets and pavements, making careful driving imperative. For this reason all vehicles carried two spare tyres. If a car received a blow-out, the protocol was that the mission was abandoned immediately and they returned to base, leaving one spare to cover the return journey. It was just too risky to be caught out in the open without a fully operational means of transport.

  They headed first to a nearby petrol station. Reserves of diesel were running low so in the trailers attached to both Land Rovers they carried several forty-four imperial gallon drums. Although there was no mains supply of electricity there would be the facility at the petrol station to manually pump the diesel from underground reservoirs. It was a laborious process but one that was unfortunately necessary. Whilst they were out they were also going to look for medical supplies and guns. Many rural towns in England have their own gun club and therefore there are a surprising number of firearm shops and suppliers. In the nearby town of Stansted Mountfitchet was a national distributor of shotguns and other weapons, and they were going to see what could be obtained from that store. In order to try to find survivors they would adopt the previous practice, and as they drove Collins called out on the megaphone, accompanied by Bannister this time blasting the horn; however it was thought that the loud noises might attract the infected and so as they neared their destination they would cease and keep noise to a minimum.

  The lead Land Rover was approximately one hundred metres in front of the second. The radio hissed momentarily and there was the crackle of Walkden’s voice. “Right, we’re nearing the petrol station. Only about a mile to go so quiet now.”

  Bannister looked at Collins with a sly grin. “Seems I have to stop giving you the horn, sorry about that.”

  She answered with a slap on his arm. Yeah, she thought to herself, you aren’t quite so tense after all.

  There was a tangled car crash blocking the road so Bannister drove up onto the pavement to skirt around it, resisting the urge to toss out any double-entendres about mounting the pavement together. It appeared as though the cars had collided head on at some pace and then caught fire leaving a metallic sculpture dedicated to destruction. Wreckage had been scattered over a large distance and as Collins glanced at the cars she noticed to her horror the charred remains of someone at the steering wheel of one of them. It was hard to make the figure out clearly as it seemed all that was left were some burnt rags and bones with a little scorched flesh, but it was enough to make her gasp out loud.

  Banister put a genuine and reassuring hand on her arm. “Don’t look honey - not nice. I’m sorry but there may well be more of that before we’re done.”

  She reproached herself for being weak but would have been comforted to know that both Bannister and Samuels felt exactly the same.

  The car accelerated away from the carnage and Samuels looked back. As they turned the corner he spoke up for the first time that journey.

  “Hmmm, that’s odd.”

  “What’s that?” Bannister frowned.

  “I thought I saw the other car stop.”

  “No way,” Bannister was quick to dismiss his comment. “Why would they do that and not tell us. You leave the thinking to me doofus. Just keep a look out for them damn zombies.”

  At that moment the radio brought Walkden’s voice to them for a second time. “Guys, seems we’ve blown a tyre. It must have been some of that debris by the crash. We’re gonna stop a moment and quickly change wheels.”

  They could hear Walkden and Hutchison debating something with the ‘press-to-talk’ switch held down and so they waited until they could speak.

  Hutchison was looking nervously all around with his hand on his gun. “I don’t like this. We’ve only just cut the megaphone and now we have to stop. This isn’t safe.”

  Walkden did not want to return to base empty-handed as he felt that would reflect badly on him and he answered rather more abruptly then he had intended. “Look, our destination is literally just around the corner. I say the others get started with the diesel and we crack on and change our tyre. It won’t take us more than a couple of minutes, and then we can go and join them.”

  “That’s leaving us rather vulnerable isn’t it sir?”

  “They’re only about thirty seconds away if we have any problems. There’s hardly any difference between them being here than there. If we get into trouble we can prac
tically shout for help. Besides, if they get started now, they can be half way through by the time we arrive. I just don’t like being away from the station any longer than is absolutely necessary.”

  Hutchison was still not convinced. “Well none of us are exactly happy being off base sir, but we’ve established protocol that we’re supposed to follow. As far as I see it, they come back to us, we change wheels and then we all head back together.” He was mindful of Walkden’s position of authority but ultimately he was not keen to put himself into more peril than was absolutely necessary, and he was also well aware that Walkden was inexperienced in battle zones.

  Walkden’s stress level was rising and that was reflected in his voice. “Well, yes, that is correct, they are the procedures we’re supposed to follow, but then sometimes you have to think a little outside the box. What I am saying is that we are virtually at our first destination so we hardly need to drive any further away from Headley Court. It would be a real shame to go home with nothing, only to have to repeat this exact same journey another time. So, they get started on the fuel, we join them, then we all call it a day and go back. Get some of that tea and medals Bannister mentioned.” A thin line of sweat had formed on his brow. He was becoming agitated and talking more and more quickly.

  Hutchison too was getting frustrated so Neale, from the back seat, nervously leant forwards. “Look guys, we’re wasting time. We could have had the tyre changed by now. Whatever we’re gonna do can we please just do it?”

  At that Hutchison let out a large breath that he did not even know he had been holding, shook his head and looked away resignedly into the distance.

  Walkden spoke rapidly into the radio. “You guys go ahead. If we have a problem then be prepared to come and help immediately. We’ll change our tyre and then we can all head back together.”

  Collins looked at Bannister with a frown. Like Hutchison she was unhappy with this plan. “If anything happens to them they’ll be sitting ducks.”

  He paused in contemplation for a moment then shrugged his shoulders and she replied into the radio. “Are you sure sir?”

  “Yes!” Walkden retorted sharply.

  Bannister sighed and eased the Land Rover back into the middle of the road and on towards their first target. He turned to the other two with a serious expression. “I know you have both seen front line action before so I don’t want to teach you to suck eggs, but now is the time to bring your A-game. Concentrate out there and don’t let your attention wander. Your life, and more importantly that means my life, depends on it. If you have any doubts then there is no doubt, we all get straight back in the vehicle and discuss it there. Speak up if anything bothers you; believe me you’d rather I bite your head off for being a nonce than they bite you. Understood?”

  The vehicle swung in a slow arc around the petrol station’s forecourt under cover of the overhead awning. Cujo started to whimper and Collins assumed he was anxious to get out of the hot, stuffy vehicle; she held up her hand and he licked it but she was too preoccupied to think any more about it.

  Bannister brought the car to an abrupt stop. “Last check of your weapons. Here’s what we’re gonna do - Collins, you and Cujo stand guard. I want you to patrol around the vehicle in a small perimeter, looking for anything that moves. Samuels, you’re gonna grab the drums off the trailer and put them as close to the diesel reservoir as possible. I’ll get the fuel system set up. Then I’ll pump, you join Collins, bish, bash, bosh we’ll have it done before the other losers even arrive. Questions?”

  They shook their heads.

  All of them searched outside for signs of the diseased but there was not another living soul in sight. They exited the vehicle together, moving with urgency. Collins had a tight grasp of Cujo’s leash as she got out of the Land Rover but he was straining at it and still whining. She yanked the lead and he reluctantly came to heel.

  She quickly scanned all around. The petrol station had a large forecourt and a car-wash area at the rear. A discarded shopping trolley lay on its side and there were bricks and debris littered about. Some wooden boards and sticks by one of the pumps looked as though someone had tried to light a bonfire and there were two cars that had their windows smashed. The petrol station itself had a shop attached to it. Next to it was a small car park. Weeds had started to sprout up in the gaps between the paving slabs giving it a scruffy, deserted appearance. There were shops opposite, a supermarket and apartments in the surrounding buildings. All were relatively modern and would have previously been rather smart although again windows had been smashed and one or two showed the effects of fire damage. There was a hardware store and a pharmacy that might have some useful items for later.

  Bannister looked over his shoulder to check on his colleagues; Samuels was still struggling with the first drum and Collins was pacing around them in a tight circle. Cujo tugged at his leash with every other step. Not very well trained for a military dog, he thought. Perhaps it had picked up on all of their nervousness and was reacting to it. Still it did mean that Collins was paying too much attention to controlling it and not enough to her lookout.

  He cursed quietly and called out to her. “Are you all right there Collins?”

  “Yeah, Cujo seems a little on edge, that’s all.”

  Suddenly there was a loud crash as one of the forty-four gallon drums slipped from Samuels’s grasp and tumbled to the hard concrete surface, making an awful racket. They all froze for a moment and stared at poor Samuels who was scrabbling to stop the drum from rolling.

  “Samuels you fool, are you trying to bring the entire tribe of crazies down on us?” Bannister snapped. At that moment Cujo started barking, pulling and straining at his leash and snarling as he had done when Emma Pethard had been attacked.

  Bannister looked all around. He could see nothing but felt uneasy. “Okay, I think change of plan. I know what Walkden said but sod it. Let’s get in the car and head back to them. We can always return together and finish off when they’re ready.”

  Even from where they were, with none of the normal noises associated with life in general, Walkden heard the faint crash of the drum. He stopped what he was doing for a moment and looked in the vague direction his colleagues had taken.

  “What was that?” said Neale but Walkden was already on the radio.

  “Guys, just thought I heard a bang from your location. Are you okay?” There was no answer.

  He looked with a worried expression over at Hutchison who was still undoing the bolts on the wheel. “I think you best get a move on.”

  Hutchison returned his anxious look. “Yes boss.”

  “I mean it.”

  Walkden and his two colleagues were not the only ones to have heard the noise. A dark figure crouching on a nearby windowsill of an upper floor apartment craned his neck out into the sun in order to try to detect where the sound had come from. He could not see anything but could sense that action was taking place not too far away. This felt different from the usual activity of the diseased. There was something in the air, a scent of fear or death. Sebastian rose quickly to his feet and jumped to the roof of the building below. Instead of dropping down to the road, this time he remained at height, leaping sure-footedly from one rooftop to the next. He covered several buildings in seconds without pausing for breath, planning his next move before he had even executed the previous one. Finally he looked down upon a scene of developing carnage.

  Collins saw them first, a moment after Bannister had revised his plan. They were coming at a low run as though they were winded or trying to keep their heads below an unseen parapet. There were three people, one man and two women, all dirty and wearing ragged clothes. They were splattered in fresh blood and screaming unintelligibly with rage. They came from behind the car-wash, quite a distance, but they covered the ground with speed and were upon the soldiers almost before they had time to react.

  “Into the car!” Bannister bellowed, discarding the fuel pump and sprinting for his life with diesel spilling out be
hind him like blood from an open artery. Samuels was nearest to the vehicle but Bannister still managed to get into his seat and ready his SA80 before his younger colleague. From behind them they heard more screams as another two people ran at them and then another from within the hardware shop.

  “Oh my god, there’s hundreds of them,” cried Samuels as he turned to see where Collins was.

  Cujo had gone absolutely crazy, like nothing Collins had ever seen before. She shrieked at him and desperately dragged him back to the vehicle. Bannister leant over from the driver’s seat and had the door open for her with one hand, his weapon clutched in the other. Collins forced the dog into the Land Rover. She dived in after him as Bannister squeezed off a round into the body of the nearest diseased - a woman who was wearing a grubby white blouse. She was only a couple of lunging paces away when the bullet knocked her back and she crumpled to the ground.

  Collins fumbled with the door handle, then pulled it closed but it did not shut properly. There was a crunch as she tried to slam it a second time and then she felt a hand latch around her ankle. The woman in the white blouse was on the ground at her feet, blood gargling from her mouth as she tried to pull herself up. Collins looked down into her black, unfocussed eyes and yelped as the next of the infected reached her. Bannister again aimed carefully and zeroed a bullet right between the eyes of the man. But there was yet another right behind.

  There was a growl and a flash of dark fur and Cujo leapt straight out of the half open door, into the growing presence. With teeth bared and barking furiously he launched himself at the growing mob, biting and snarling. His attack would have scattered any normal crowd, but unfortunately these were not normal people and they did not know when to be afraid. Their attention was diverted momentarily and Collins lashed out with her boot, right into the face of the woman who determinedly clawed at her leg. There was a snap and crunch of bones and the woman dropped to the ground still shrieking.