“No, that’s quite all right, very kind of you though.”
As Lewis turned to leave he noticed a plate with some half eaten food on the edge of the desk. He could not remember having seen it there before and wondered when Denny had fetched it. Obviously the boss had taken to eating in his office alone now, surely not a good sign.
As he got to the door Denny spoke again, seemingly as an afterthought. “Thomas, I know I have not exactly been myself lately and I am aware that you are concerned. You don’t need to worry though, I’m fine, really. Just a little preoccupied and tense, like everybody I guess. Really, I am fine though.”
Lewis turned back to him and smiled although he had to try and force the warmth into the expression. “I’m happy to hear that. I was worried but I’m glad you are okay.”
When the polishing was finished Millington stood up and stretched his back. He showed the boot to his friend with an elated smile. “Check it out. Am I the best or what?”
“Yeah man, you’re the dog’s danglies.” The sarcastic edge went unnoticed.
Bannister watched as he strolled casually from the room. He listened attentively as Millington made his way along the corridor and wondered whether he was going to go to bed now and leave him in peace for the night. He started to prepare himself again to go out, but a moment later the door swung open once more. Millington stood in the doorway waving aloft a bottle of cheap whiskey like a victorious footballer holding the winners’ trophy.
“What on earth is that?”
Millington mistook the irritation for amazement and his grin stretched a little further.
“Scottish mouthwash. It’s one of a few I’ve got. Been saving it for a special occasion but I figure tonight is as good a night as any, whilst we’re both still alive and kicking, and able to appreciate it. We don’t know how much longer that will be the case.” He was still under the misapprehension that his friend was stressed and in need of company and distraction. He did not have a clue about Bannister’s true intentions that night, nor that his company, whilst not at all what his friend wanted, was exactly what he needed at that moment, and was doing him a favour that neither of them could possibly imagine.
“Ah man, look I’m really tired,” Bannister started to protest but Millington had already unscrewed the bottle and tossed the cap disdainfully over his shoulder. It landed by the sink.
“We won’t be needing that again,” he said as he raised the bottle in a salute, then poured two generous measures into a couple of coffee mugs. He thrust one at Bannister, raised his own in a toast and then quaffed the lot in a single gulp. He glanced at Bannister expectantly over the rim of his cup. Bannister returned the look but his thoughts were entirely different from those of his large friend, his best friend and comrade in arms. They had been inseparable for several years since going through initial army training together and had seen each other through many scrapes, both in peace time and war. Together they had been shot at, arrested and even shared women. Bannister knew that his pal would do anything for him and yet as he stared back at him on this night his thoughts were full of loathing. At that moment he despised his friend for his constant, even temper, his good nature and the fact that he never seemed to get angry. He despised him for his eagerness to help others and his sometimes overly protective attitude towards Bannister. But most of all he despised him at that moment because as long as Millington stayed in the room with him he would be unable to go out into the night, escape the base and find her again. The smile remained in place on Millington’s face and Bannister had no choice but to reluctantly return the toast and finish his drink.
The bitter burn of bad Scotch made him gasp and gag a little, and Millington laughed and clapped him forcefully on the back.
“That’s the spirit. And another.”
As Millington’s second measure disappeared Bannister sank back into his chair in resignation and glared balefully at his friend. All the while the second hand of the clock on the wall ponderously counted away the night which expired considerably more slowly than his patience. Whilst Bannister’s thoughts were never far from Flavia, hers, in turn, revolved largely around him.
The vampire’s lengthy existence inherently meant they had a greater propensity for patience. As the night slipped slowly by and Bannister became more angrily resigned to staying on base, Flavia shifted her position overlooking the petrol station forecourt and stared out into the night below, looking like an alluring, gothic Sphinx. She was confident that the wait would be worth it but keen for it to end. She found it a real pleasure to be able to enjoy the quiet, uninterrupted panorama and stare at the stars without having to disguise herself from human view, but also without the peace being disturbed by the unnecessary cacophony that humankind constantly inflicted. The air already tasted fresher without the continual belching of fumes from industry, and she had surprised herself by finding that she appreciated the timid re-emergence of wildlife into urban areas, for various reasons.
Below her a scraggy, solitary dog padded softly by, its tail hanging limply between its legs with an unnatural kink in it that hinted at some recent battle for food or dominion. As it passed underneath Flavia stepped from the ledge and plummeted to the ground, landing with a thud right beside the animal which jumped and whimpered in fear. A moment later and it was dead. Flavia looked warily around her, more through the habit of long years than because of a current need for caution, before snapping the dog’s head back, biting its vein and drawing a thin line of fresh, warm liquid into her mouth. She grimaced at the musty taste and held her breath to slightly lessen the unpleasant flavour whilst feeling the surge of life-blood gush through her body.
She wrapped her arms about her shoulders and shuddered involuntarily. It seems someone’s walking over my grave, she thought with irony, as her limbs welcomed the explosion of warmth. The tentative tendrils of dawn snaked along the horizon as she casually tossed the canine corpse aside and made her way wearily back towards the vampires’ lair. For a minute nothing else stirred but the hint of light in the east. Then imperceptibly, almost too slowly to acknowledge, a shadow detached itself from a rooftop overlooking the scene and moved delicately but deliberately after the diminishing vampiress.
Flavia hauled herself through the window to the upper floor where Darius and Max were standing, talking in low voices. As she entered they turned and bowed to her with an elegant and respectful flourish. Darius tilted his head questioningly.
“No,” she sighed, for once not having to feign disappointment. “Still no sign of the human but I am confident that it will not be long now.” She returned the bow and glided past them.
Darius turned away from Max and stared out of the window, thumping his hand down on the frame as he silently cursed. Had he made a grave error and left it all too late? “My friend,” he spoke over his shoulder, “I believe that events are overtaking me. This may well be a storm that I will not weather.”
“We have seen troubles come and go before, and we have overcome them all, my liege.”
“Yes that is true; you have stood by me through many previous battles. You have been a long and faithfull ally and I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. However I believe this may now be slipping beyond my reach.”
Max put a supportive hand on his shoulder but could not in all honesty say much to dissuade his leader and friend from his negative presentiments. Deep inside himself he found that he was of the same opinion.
As the sky became lighter Darius’s mood grew ever darker and his portentous forebodings ever stronger.
CHAPTER 15
The next day heralded a bright blue sky. There were only a few wisps of cloud starting to form like the first vultures to gather over a dying animal on the savannah. The temperature was crisp with a light dew enveloping the ground and a gentle breeze mocking the trees. To a casual observer it could have been any peaceful autumn morning. For Josh it was the first time he had slept properly in way too long and he did not stir until nearly midday
. Pethard checked on him several times, concerned that he was still breathing. Initially, when finally he opened his eyes, he smiled, confused and dazed. Pethard was slouched in a chair by the window where he had spent the latter half of the night, dozing on and off with disturbed dreams. He leapt up when he heard Josh wake. Very quickly the boy’s smile creased and deflated and was replaced by tears. Pethard sat on the edge of the bed trying to comfort him and occasionally turning away to hide his own tears until Williams joined them and she too broke down.
Bannister woke up with a headache that did not feel completely due to the alcohol. He was cold and shivery, and his limbs ached as though he were going down with the flu. He deliberately avoided Millington; in fact he tried to avoid everyone and took his breakfast back to the solitude of his room to eat alone. Most other people on station however were in good spirits. The arrival of Josh had momentarily lifted the dark veil from the base and there was the slightest hint of optimism circulating amongst them.
Through the gentle and compassionate efforts of Williams and Pethard they slowly put Josh at ease and even as the day wore on he became less tense and started to open up to them a little. Clearly the presence of other humans was a panacea for his terrors; he craved company and hated to be left alone. They teased out of him a little information regarding the events leading up to his being found. Although he did not know for how long he had been in the petrol station, it had indeed been his father who had deposited him there with a promise that he would return within a day or so. He did not know the whereabouts of his mother; as far as he knew she had disappeared some indeterminate number of days before and he had not seen her since. The reason his father had left him was still unclear. Pethard did not want to probe too deeply but Josh mentioned injuries that his father seemed to have sustained on his arms which pointed towards the possibility that he had fought with some infected and did indeed realise that he had little time left to safeguard his son. This was all pure speculation but did tie in with what was already suspected. The fact that he had survived all alone for as long as he had was nigh on a miracle and it seemed as though he was as important for the station as they were for him.
Lewis requested a meeting with the two doctors as well as Hutchison, Straddling and Wood. Although Wood had only been a patient at the base and not a serving member of personnel, his experience was invaluable and nobody outwardly questioned his presence at the meeting. He was fast making himself an invaluable member of the fragile community. Lewis also invited Walkden, although only through courtesy to his rank rather than because he expected any great input from him, and Denny, although he did not expect the group captain to attend. He was therefore surprised when Denny walked into the conference room after breakfast with bloodshot eyes, wearing a somewhat creased uniform.
When Straddling entered the two men initially ignored each other and the tension in the room was frigid but Lewis tried to get over it and pretend that nothing had happened. He knew that everybody in that room and on the base was suffering in their own personal hell and so perhaps it was best to put events down to the pressures they were under, rather than make an issue of things. He intended to talk to Straddling at some stage but the opportunity had not yet presented itself. He just hoped he had time to smooth things over before the issue resurfaced. That could prove disastrous for everyone.
He spoke about the plan to go to the GVF laboratory and search for survivors and any information on the Mnemoloss drug that may help them develop an antidote. His sketchy outline raised eyebrows and prompted whistles of surprise from the sergeants, but Walkden said nothing and Denny seemed barely to be listening.
Singleton then spoke in about exactly what they hoped to find. She concluded by detailing what was of utmost importance to them. “I would guess that in any laboratory like this there will be areas where they have conducted animal tests. There is bound to be a large amount of empirical data in this area which may well be very important. Results of tests from various steps of drug development, what the different stages showed and what the side effects were, how different animals reacted and so on. This info will probably be on computer but it may also be backed up with paper copies.
“There may be an area with powerful computers where they have produced all the computer models. An awful lot of drug development these days is done this way and again this will be very useful if we are able to take the data away with us and access it. Lastly there will probably be offices of the different analysts, technicians and scientists, and goodness knows what we’ll find there but it will quite possibly be of enormous value. It’s extremely hard to say what we need to bring back with us until we are actually in the laboratories but as long as you are all aware of the kind of things to keep an eye out for then that is all we can ask.”
Straddling interrupted her now rather abruptly. “You said ‘we’?”
“I’m sorry Sergeant, what?”
“You said ‘we’ ma’am. Until we are actually there. You mean to say you think you’re coming with us?” His bluntness was now bordering on rude.
“Yes, of course. Both Dr Handley and myself will be coming along.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, this is no picnic. We’re probably going to encounter some festering diseased and some of us, maybe all of us, might get killed.” He turned now to Lewis. “Is it really a good idea to be carrying deadwood with us when we’re out there? No offence ma’am.”
The room went silent. For the second time in as many days Lewis felt that the authority of his command no longer carried sufficient weight to dictate the actions required to his men. He now had to come up with solid reasoning and convince them of the merit of his ideas. If not then what was to stop them from just saying ‘no’? Besides, Straddling did have a point; the doctors were not trained in battle and this was likely to be a perilous trip. They needed the best, most experienced team possible and the doctors would complicate matters and potentially make the mission more hazardous.
Lewis paused for thought and chose his words carefully. “Firstly the whole aim of this mission is to try and find a cure for these diseased. The longer we leave it the more potential survivors will have been contaminated and the more people will have died and be beyond our reach. This is the single most important thing that we, as survivors, can do right now, so much so that both the doctors and myself are willing to die for it.
“If we go to the labs without the doctors then yes, we may strike it lucky and find something that they can use but we’d be clutching at straws. I most certainly don’t know what data we’ll be looking for. Do you Sergeant? At least with the doctors there we can make a proper, thorough search and increase the likelihood of finding something important. I know what you’re saying and there’s some truth in it. Having inexperienced people with us may increase the risk a bit but on balance we need them with us.”
He stopped, leaving his words hanging pendulously in mid-air, looking at the others around the table.
Straddling still looked dubious at best, bordering on belligerent and nobody would meet his glare. He shook his head and growled in reply. “It’s hard enough out there as it is. We’ve lost soldiers already, good men, experienced men who knew what they were doing. If we go out there with people who’ve had no battle exposure then we’re just increasing the possibility that something will go wrong and we’ll lose even more troops.” He shook his head and banged the table as he spoke and his cheeks were flushed with colour.
Lewis deliberately took his time before answering, trying to phrase his words as non-combatively as possible. He had expected this line of argument and there was no denying the truth of it. It really did come down to a question of whether or not taking the doctors was too much of a hindrance, or was the added benefit worth taking the chance for? It was a question that each soldier had to answer for themselves. It was from an unexpected corner that assistance came.
Walkden spoke softly and hesitantly whilst looking down at the table, as though he did not believe his opinion re
ally counted for much, which was in part the truth. “Look I know that I don’t have any real, combat experience but I think I agree with you Tom. I agree that this is without doubt the most important thing that any of us can do right now. The fact that it carries with it a great risk, well, so what? Even living at the moment is tough. If we are going to do this then we may as well do it right. I can’t imagine we’re going to want to go back to the labs again in order to find the information we need.
“If what you say is true and we go there without the doctors then it sounds as though there’s no point in going at all. We won’t know what we’re looking for and we’re just jeopardising our lives for nothing. So why don’t we go there just once, do it right first time and get everything we need. If it makes it more dangerous taking the two doctors along then surely that is still better than having to go back to the labs more than the once.”
Lewis could have kissed the man and immediately felt guilty for his negative perception of Walkden’s usefulness. He nodded furiously and looked searchingly around the table again.
This time it was Wood who sealed the debate with a little light-hearted humour. “Well said sir. What the hell, I’ve got nothing better to do with my time right now. I’m sick and tired of this place and all your ugly mugs. Count me in.”
Straddling coughed and cleared his throat. “Well I can’t have a couple of English ponces going and me too scared to join you. Sod it, when are we off?” There was a shift in the tension around the table and the decision was made.
Walkden promised that he could have a third Land Rover prepared in time and the team for the mission was selected. They were to depart the next morning. They dispersed, all buzzing with anticipation and nerves.
As Lewis got up to leave, Walkden, who was not one of the soldiers chosen to go, confronted him. “I meant what I said Tom; even living is precarious at the moment. I know I screwed up last time but I’d really like to go on this mission. This is something that I truly believe in. I can help. Please, let me come along.”
The Blood of the Infected (Book 1): Once Bitten, Twice Die Page 32