Twice Bitten, Twice Die (The Blood of the Infected Book 3)

by Antony Stanton

  He had been trying to imagine what might have been occurring and his mind had been torturing him. He had concluded that as the shooting was attracting all the infected, the best thing he could do was to make his escape as soon as possible, then return to help the others.

  He had half dragged, half carried the diminutive lady from the room. He had started back the way they had come but there was the sound of people approaching and he had taken refuge, just in time, in another office. Then as suddenly as it had started, the shooting stopped. The deathly silence was almost as bad as the ruckus had been before. He was left to fill in the gaps himself and his imagination had only concluded the very worst outcome: his friends were all dead, he was trapped by himself in the building, surrounded by incandescent infected, with a limited supply of ammunition and a woman to take care of.

  He had waited for an awfully long time, listening to the now very occasional cries of the crazy and trying to concoct a plan. Perhaps it would be best to leave the lady in the room. He could lock it from the outside and come back with reinforcements. He was about to act on his new plan when he had heard the sound of the Bedford’s horn and a voice crying out on the megaphone. He could not actually hear what was said but he was sure this was his moment to escape. So, with a burst of energy inspired by fear and desperation in equal measures, he had fled and got to the truck unhindered, just as Wood was embarking upon his killing spree.

  The new medical centre was abuzz. As soon as it was established exactly who Rhind was he became the main priority. Newman set about patching up scrapes and bruises on all the soldiers whilst the two doctors dealt with their prime patient. He did not seem to be injured, just dehydrated and malnourished, although clearly not as badly as Bennett had been. For much of the time he was awake and lucid enough to be able to talk a little. When he saw Bennett it was too much for either of them. They embraced like long lost brothers and there was barely a dry eye in the medical centre.

  “I just can’t believe it,” Bennett kept on mumbling. “I thought everybody was dead. How did you survive?” he asked through the tears.

  Rhind tried to answer but had to swallow several times before he could say anything. He could only croak out one word between the sobs. “George.”

  When the soldiers returned with Corporal Gray they rushed Julie to a room adjoining the medical centre as there was not enough space to deal with them all in one place. She did not seem to be contaminated, or even badly injured. Her and Rhind were both put on intravenous drips. Squadron Leader Singleton and Dr Handley checked them over for injuries, but more specifically for any signs of bite marks. The return of both missions without the loss of life and with the added bonus of not one but two survivors, and one so important as Rhind, made for a convivial atmosphere at RAF GVF. Everyone gathered together and even Masters joined in with the celebration for a while. The ever-fickle atmosphere took a brief foray upwards and for a moment hope re-emerged and passed amongst them, feeling like a charlatan in such desolate surroundings. It was during this heady ambience that Sergeant Wood slipped quietly away.

  “Where’s Wood?” Charlotte Collins asked Bannister when she noticed his absence.

  Bannister was chatting animatedly to Private Bruce Matthews and frowned. “Err, I don’t know. He was here a moment ago. Why?”

  “He’s been acting a bit odd since he got back. Normally he takes it all in his stride so I just wondered if everything was okay, or at least as okay as things can possibly be these days.”

  “Funny you should say that.” Bannister broke off from Matthews and turned his attention fully towards Collins with a look that made her feel queasy. “He was acting a bit ‘odd’ when we were back looking for Gray just then.”

  “How do you mean?” Singleton overheard and was now also becoming alarmed. The welfare of all members of this fragile community was her concern; secondary after anything to do with finding a cure, that is.

  “Well, it was a bit like his own personal vendetta. I mean I know he likes to act alone but to be honest there was little point in the three of us even being there. He just seemed determined to kill everything we saw all by himself. I’m surprised he didn’t ditch his weapons and throttle the lurchers with his bare hands.”

  Collins looked for Wood in their room but there was no sign. She started to panic. She eventually found him staring through the glass panel at the Incarcerated.

  “There you are, thank goodness. I was worried about you,” she said, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach had not gone.

  He did not turn to look at her as she approached. The diseased had gathered around the door and were screeching at him but he hardly reacted.

  “Are you okay?” she asked and he turned to face her at last.

  He had cleaned the blood off himself and changed into a roll-neck jumper that he had found in one of the patient’s sleeping quarters. She could see that he had sustained a variety of small injuries. There was a deep cut that ran down his left cheek, almost an exact copy of the old scar on his right, and his face was bruised and scratched.

  “You’re hurt,” she gasped.

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” he forced a thin smile.

  “You should get that seen to,” she said as her hand went to stroke his face but wavered just short of it. She was used to him acting aloof but now she felt that some chasm had opened up between them and she was powerless to cross it.

  “Why?”

  “Well, the doctors should clean it and dress it. You don’t want to get an infection.”

  “There’s nothing they can do for me.” His tone was lifeless and made her immediately fearful.

  “What do you mean?” she forced herself to ask, although suddenly she really did not want to hear the answer.

  He said nothing but pulled the roll-neck down revealing another wound, a bite mark, slightly deeper than the wound on his cheek. He smiled. “It was that clown I told you about. It seems he gave me a bit of a love bite. I’m screwed.”

  She knew she should be strong for him but felt the strength go from her legs as she collapsed on the floor. As the tears started to flow she distantly heard someone screaming “Nooo!” and barely recognised it as her own voice, as her cry drowned out those of the diseased.

  The brief hiatus of optimism vanished as soon as they re-entered the cafeteria. The look of utter desolation on Collins’s face and the isolated expression of Wood sliced through the atmosphere as keenly as the teeth of the clown had bit into his neck. Singleton and Handley left Rhind’s bedside and attended to Wood but his fate was immediately clear. Even with those who seem to be swathed in good fortune, sometimes the very deepest reservoirs of luck can run dry.

  “I’m so sorry,” Singleton wept, “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “It’s quite all right ma’am,” he said and forced a smile. “I said to you once that you’d given me the best reason I ever had to gamble with my life. Well, it was true then and it still is now. Nothing’s changed, only that the stakes just got a little higher for me.” He put his hand gently on her arm as she cried, inconsolably, and pulled her into his shoulder in a stiff embrace. Even now, when others were falling apart all about him, he was still the one to remain solid, the rock upon which they all stood as the waves of calamity crashed around them.

  “There’s a chance,” Singleton sobbed. “There is a chance. It’s such a small bite; it looks like nothing more than a puncture wound. The saliva might not have entered into your blood,” but she was trying to convince herself more than him. Dr Handley was nodding furiously in agreement but Wood shook his head.

  “That’s kind of you to say but I think we both know that’s not the truth. But thank you ma’am, for everything. You’ve been absolutely invaluable in keeping this community together. Don’t ever change. And don’t give up your hope – that’s the most powerful thing you possess. It’s certainly what’s kept me alive this far.”

  “It doesn’t feel like there’s much hope right now,” she repl
ied.

  “Ma’am, don’t ever say that. There’s always hope.”

  As they were talking there was a murmur from the makeshift bed behind Handley. The new female patient rolled over and her eyes opened. Wood knelt by her side and took her hand.

  “It’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmured and the woman smiled.

  “I’m the doctor here,” Singleton said gently. “My name is Singleton. I understand you’re called Julie?”

  The woman looked puzzled as though trying to remember something. “Jules,” she whispered.

  “Well, Jules, you’re in good hands. You’re not injured, you’re just a little dehydrated, which is why we’ve got you on this drip.”

  Jules smiled faintly, then her face clouded over. “My children?” she asked, her voice rising to a broken rasping.

  “I’m so sorry,” Singleton said, feeling the hot prickles of tears forming again. “We found you alone. There was nobody else.”

  Bennett in the adjoining room left his work for a moment and entered, twirling his moustache. It had started to form a point again as in better days, a barometer of the current mood and optimism in RAF GVF. He stopped suddenly in the doorway. His eyes widened and he went pale. He held on to the door frame to steady himself and tried to speak.

  “Julia,” was all he could say as his shoulders started to shake. He sank into the nearest chair. “My God, Julia!”

  Singleton turned in confusion to stare at Bennett, trying hard to keep up with events. Emotions were accelerating and loosed all around them, as contagious as the infection itself. “What? You know her?” she asked, but he did not get an opportunity to answer, partly as he was weeping too strongly, his chest heaving, and partly because Williams had come into the room.

  The medics had been working flat out to treat everyone so she had come to assist and had brought the children with her. She figured they could sit and read a book whilst she helped the doctors. She held the children’s hands in hers as she entered. Isabelle stopped in the doorway, just behind Bennett. She stopped and looked over his shoulder. She stopped and screamed.

  “What on earth’s the matter poppet,” Corporal Williams started to ask but found she was talking to an empty space. Isabelle tore her hand free and ran and threw herself sobbing at the bed; at the body lying corpse-like on top of it; at her mother who she had not seen for days. She was trying to talk but no coherent words would come out as she gasped and choked. A great, heartfelt wailing escaped her, an uncontrollable screech to the heavens as she clasped her mother tightly. Williams stood gawping with a confused expression that changed to comprehension as silent tears streaked down her own cheeks. She still held Josh’s hand who stood slightly behind her, pressed against her. He started to smile tentatively, but it was quickly replaced by a forlorn and puzzled look on his dejected and lonely little face.

  Wood grinned and made a discreet exit, leading Collins away. He paused to mutter to Singleton. “Never give up hope ma’am. Never.”

  They walked out into the dining hall. Everyone was silent, waiting. Everyone was watching him closely. He stopped and turned around gradually, looking at every single one of them. There was barely a sound. One by one they rose to their feet. Nobody spoke. They all just stood. Wood smiled and lowered his head.

  “Thank you all,” he murmured.

  Lewis walked up to him. His eyes were red and he could not meet Wood’s gaze.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he began hesitantly. “I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t all be here now if it weren’t for you. You’re an amazing soldier and we all owe you a great debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. If I could swap places with you right now, believe me, for the benefit of everybody I would do it in a heartbeat.”

  “Don’t say that…” Wood chided him, “…sir. You are a far better soldier than you know, and a far better leader than I could ever be.”

  “Ah, I don’t know about that…” Lewis started to protest.

  “No sir, it’s true,” Wood interrupted. “These men have followed you into the very jaws of hell. They’ve faced the prospect of death several times, and they’d do it again – for you. Because they believe in you. If you don’t mind my saying sir, it’s about time you started to believe in you too.”

  Lewis smiled. “Thank you.”

  Wood extended his hand but Lewis ignored it and pulled him into a tight hug. “You’ll be missed. More than you can possibly realise.”

  As Wood turned to leave they were all still standing. Slowly, one by one they saluted. He took one last lingering look at them all, blinking repeatedly, and then led Collins away.

  They did not speak until they reached the lower level. Collins felt as though she was experiencing some kind of terrible, surreal nightmare. She just concentrated on placing one foot in front of the next as Wood led her by the hand.

  “Best I take the other room beside Darby I guess,” Wood said trying to make light of it. She could not answer as grief wracked her body. They walked on in silence, each supporting the other.

  Finally she felt able to gasp out a sentence. “Please, why don’t you stay with me tonight? In our room…” She was just not ready to lose him yet and wanted to delay the awful inevitable as long as possible.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He looked doubtful. “How long do you think I’ve got? I mean, I know Rhind said his wife was bitten a couple of days ago and she’s only just turned, but Abbott only took a single night. It might not be a good idea for me to stay with you.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said, the sobs returning. “You don’t know that it even got into your bloodstream.”

  “Everyone else who’s been bitten has become contaminated.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll be immune to it.”

  “You heard what Singleton said about that,” he reminded her softly. “There’s absolutely no point in hanging onto that belief.”

  “Maybe we’ll find a cure,” she said finally in desperation.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe a lot of things will happen but I think this is my swan song babe. The only way I’m not going to become sick is if someone puts a bullet in my head.”

  She turned around and hit him then. Her fists pounded his chest repeatedly. “Don’t say that, don’t say that. I thought you were the one talking about never giving up. Was that all words? Don’t you believe in that?” She was in floods of tears and the words came out staccato. She knew she was being unfair but just could not help herself. The thought of losing him was tearing her apart. This was what she had feared most, and now it was coming to fruition.

  He gently but firmly enclosed her in his arms and held her for a while, allowing her to shake. “No, that wasn’t just words,” he said eventually. “I meant it. But there has to be at least the tiniest possibility of success. Otherwise it’s nothing more than a fool’s hope.”

  “Well isn’t that what hope is all about?” she sobbed. “Believing although there is no chance, hanging on when all possibility of success seems to have gone.”

  She cried into his chest for a long while and he stood holding her. Even when his shoulders had cramp, even when his legs were tired, he still stood silently and held her to him. At last her tears subsided. She looked up into his eyes.

  “Don’t you ever cry?” she whispered, but he just smiled that same, resigned smile, keeping everything at bay, locked away from the outside world.

  He spent half the night in their room, clasping her tightly to him, as though if he let her go he would fall immediately into insanity and be lost forever. They hardly spoke and she wept for much of the time until exhaustion claimed her. His muscles started to ache sometime after midnight. He was not sure whether that was due to her lying awkwardly in his embrace or the contamination starting to thread its evil way through his being, stealing away his very essence and leaving nothing more than a memory of whom he really was. He was bothered by what Collins had said about hope. She was right, he had forsaken hope. But then what pos
sible chance did he have? He knew the reality. He was well aware that nothing on earth could stop him from turning into one of those nightmares. Unless…

  Unless he took his own life. He had mentioned to her about someone putting a bullet in his head. That was indeed the only way that the inevitable could be avoided. Sometimes death was the best option. Sometimes it was the only option. But then, could he do that to Collins? Could he cause her such pain? Perhaps though it was time to think of himself for once, to do what suited him most. But besides that, there was something else that was on his mind. There was a niggling reminder of a conversation he had overheard earlier that day, an inconsequential comment that he had paid no heed to at the time, but one that now loomed large in his thoughts. Currently it would not leave him alone. He rightly held no expectation for himself any more. It was for the others now that he was concerned. Maybe, before it was too late, there was one last thing he could do for them all, before thinking of himself and taking matters into his own hands.

  As her breathing became steady and deeper he gently untangled himself from her arms and moved slowly away. She moaned softly but did not wake. He collected his night vision monocular and a few other items, and stealthily made his way from the room and into the bleakness of the night.

  CHAPTER 15

  Corporal Charlotte Collins awoke slowly. She had a stiff neck and the muscles all over her back ached, a consequence of such an inadequate bed. She rolled over as the pain of reality hit home, like every other morning, then jerked fully awake in an instant. He was gone!

  She jumped to her feet and rushed out whilst pulling on clothes. Had he confined himself to his prison beside Darby already? Had she missed her opportunity to speak to him one last time before… before it was too late? Or worse, had he killed himself? There were things she had meant to say to him last night, but all that had come out were tears. She sprinted towards Darby’s room. She could hear moans and screeches coming from both Darby and Mrs. Rhind. She slowed, and approached nervously as she neared the office set aside for Wood. It was empty. So if he was not there, then… where? As she stopped to think, there was the sudden sound of footsteps behind her. She span around and yelped. It was Corporal Pellegrini and Leading Aircraftman Mayoh on patrol. They eyed her suspiciously when they saw the look on her face.