The radio crackled into life. A voice broke the hush in the cafeteria. Collins assumed it was Lewis, although it was strained and harsh and she did not fully recognise it as him.
“Hutchison, we’re under attack. Vampires! Double check all your points of egress. We’re coming back.”
There was a hiss of static, then nothing more.
Collins looked back at the doors that had now become disturbingly still. Vampires?
Lewis rushed his team into the nearest room on the ground floor and Straddling closed the door behind them. He was still standing by the door with his gun aimed at it when there was a bang from outside in the corridor. They all jumped.
“What the hell was that?” Lewis said.
Something had smacked into the doorframe causing it to shake. Nobody moved. For a moment there was silence outside. They all stared at the door, then again, a loud crash. Straddling recoiled and stepped backwards, just as the door handle started to rattle. He leapt forwards as the door cracked open. He fired a round through the gap. There was a cry as he slammed the door and stood holding it tightly. His eyes were wide and he was ashen.
“It was one of the bloody Incarcerated!”
“How the hell did they get free?” Bannister asked as he rushed to help Straddling.
“That means there could be eight more of them out there,” Lewis said. “Are you sure it was one of the Incarcerated? Maybe it was another diseased from beyond the secure area.”
Straddling shook his head. “It was Burt. So yes, there could be eight more out there. I saw one down the far end of the corridor, so…” There was a banging at the door and a guttural shriek cut him short. “Right on cue,” he finished glumly.
“We’ll stick to our original plan then,” Lewis said quickly. “We’ll go out through the window then back into the building another way and up to the café. How much ammo have we got between us?”
There was a quick count. Not much, but hopefully enough.
“Conserve your ammo but any infected we come across we shoot without hesitation,” Lewis continued. “I know the scientists have been testing on the Incarcerated but there’s nothing we can do about that. And hopefully the vampires won’t realise what we’re doing until it’s too late.” He glanced at the window and reached for the cord to raise the blinds. “Is everyone ready?”
The door shook and there were screams as more diseased zeroed in on their trapped prey. Straddling and Bannister held onto the handle and kept their bodies pressed against it as it rattled. Matthews was covered in Bamburac’s blood that continued to ooze and pulse. Bamburac’s eyes were now open and flickered around the room uncertainly, as he passed in and out of focus. As well as the wound on his neck there was a large bump that had risen on his forehead where he had cracked his skull on the floor. Although he was now partly conscious he was losing too much blood. He was too weak to walk unaided and his situation was only getting worse. They had to move, and fast, if they were not going to lose him.
Just as Lewis was about to turn back to the window there was an almighty crash. He flinched and ducked down as a pebble smashed the glass and ripped through the blinds like a missile. It narrowly missed his head and thumped into the wall with a loud crack. Someone had thrown it from outside with some considerable force. He stepped gingerly away from the window, still doubled over. Their options were shrinking fast.
“What now boss?” Straddling asked with a waver in his voice. He was crouched by the door and gripped the handle for all he was worth. They all stared at Lewis expectantly, waiting.
“Same plan,” Lewis said decisively without a moment’s hesitation. Now was the not time for procrastination. Now they needed a strong leader, to guide them all out alive. Whichever route they took was fraught with danger but to his mind this still presented the more palatable option. “At least we’ll be out in the open. I’d like to see them try to come at us out there! It’s our best chance. Let’s do this.”
Just then there was the sound of gunfire. Three bangs rang out, then another two. It sounded to Lewis as though they came from right outside their room. Hutchison, he thought. They all froze, staring hard at the door as though the answer would appear on its surface. The rattling had stopped and for a moment all was silent. Then the door handle was twisted and someone attempted to open it. Straddling and Bannister threw themselves against it again, forcing it shut. There was a sharp knock and a voice called out.
“Hello in there.”
It was a familiar voice but so completely unexpected that it took a few seconds for the soldiers to place it. Straddling snatched open the door to see Sergeant Vallage standing there. Behind him were the other four surviving soldiers from RAF Headley Court: Flight Lieutenant Walkden, Corporal Gillen, Leading Aircraftman Neale and Corporal Bell, all keeping a watchful eye. Arranged in death poses were the bodies of Burt and one other infected.
“Good lord, am I glad to see you!” Straddling exclaimed as he embraced Vallage with uncharacteristic warmth for the normally taciturn man, raising an eyebrow of his fellow Scotsman.
“Well if I’d known I’d receive such a warm greeting I might have come a wee bit earlier,” Sergeant Vallage replied but there was no smile on his face. “We decided the reasons for us staying had gone and we should come to see what you boys were doing. Seems like a good thing we did. I’d say we got here just in time. What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain everything in detail later,” Lewis said, “but right now we’ve got a few more infected loose in here somewhere. We’re under attack from vampires. Vida and another called Alžběta have gone native, and Bamburac is bleeding to death. We have to get back to the canteen pronto so that the doctors can do something to save him.”
As he spoke Matthews was kneeling over the now supine body of Bamburac. He was pressing down on the still bleeding wound but it was not doing much to stem the flow. “Sir,” he called, pleadingly. “We’re losing him.”
Just then there was an almighty crash and they all ducked down again. This time it was a wing mirror, ripped off a car from the carpark. It smashed through the blinds, tearing them from their mounting but somehow missed all the soldiers. That was enough to convince them all that venturing outside was not in their immediate interests.
Lewis peered outside but there was no sign of anyone. He shook his head. “There are now nine of us, ten counting Bamburac. Change of plan now that you guys are here. We’ll head straight back to the canteen through the building. But we take it slowly.”
Straddling nodded. “Defensive retreat?”
“More of a bloody aggressive retreat,” Lewis replied. “Anything, and I mean anything, that comes at us, shoot fast and shoot to kill. Remember, Vida and Alžběta are not who they once were. They will kill us without a second thought. Let’s not give either of them that opportunity. Cover each other and check every room. Suppressing fire, short bursts and spray the corridor. Keep three metres spacing between each other at all times. Neale and Gillen, take Bamburac. Everyone be ready. Time to go.”
Corporal Collins had retreated a distance from the door. Hutchison stood near it now, watching warily. Whoever had been forcing at it had stopped. All was silent in the cafeteria once more. Wilson lay at her feet dejectedly. The children were sullen. The only ones who spoke were the two scientists, chatting quietly to each other. Collins was nearby and occasionally overheard. They were, as ever, discussing their work. Never a moment was wasted; Rhind was scribbling something animatedly on a sheet of paper and presented it to Bennett who nodded thoughtfully. She did not understand what they were saying and paid it little attention although she was as keen as Rhind was himself to see her loved one returned to her. She wondered whether either of them would be rewarded on that score. At the moment however neither she nor the scientists could possibly know that the Incarcerated, upon whom they had based their hopes for a scientific breakthrough, were now loose in the building. As the soldiers were forced to kill them their numbers were rapidly dwindling, along wit
h the chances of creating that cure.
Everything was silent for a while until the sound of more shooting erupted again. A moment later Hutchison’s radio crackled once more.
“Hutchison,” the same unfamiliar voice almost shouted, “the Incarcerated are loose. Stay on your guard and be ready. We’re on our way.”
Lewis led the aggressive retreat. His rifle was at his shoulder. His attention was concentrated entirely ahead. Let Straddling take care of their six, he thought. Now, more than ever before, was the time for every single one of them to earn their keep. If they could not rely on each other then they were as good as dead already. He started up the steps, straining to see what was around the bend in the staircase. He leaned over the hand rail trying to assess what lay ahead on the first floor. It was not until he was half way up that the corridors above started to come into view. He paused and looked hard. There was nothing there. Slowly he continued to ascend.
There was a scream and the sound of running from below. Then a burst of gunfire - just two rounds, Lewis thought, maybe three. He forced himself to remain focussed and waited.
“One of the infected,” he heard Straddling mutter from below. “Dead.”
That’s three down, Lewis thought. Six more out there. And the vampires. And Vida and Alžběta.
He made it to the first floor. He checked both directions. Still clear, so he signalled to Bannister, a couple of paces behind. Bannister took up position at the westerly doors. One side of his face had already turned the darkened colour of an angry bruise and his eye was badly swollen. Matthews was next. His arms and chest were covered in Bamburac’s blood. He stood by the easterly doors and looked out onto Masters’s corpse, a clear reminder not to trust any of these vampires. Lewis checked towards the second floor. As far as he could see there was nobody there. Tentatively he continued – just one step at a time.
There was another burst of gunfire and Lewis tensed. This time it was Bannister. He was kneeling by the half open fire doors. His rifle had a tendril of smoke that vanished even as Lewis allowed himself the briefest of glances.
“Infected,” growled Bannister.
Lewis returned his attention to the front and took one more step. Corporal Bell was right behind him.
“Spacing,” he whispered harshly but Bell never heard.
The command was drowned out by a shriek from below. This was not the kind of bestial cry that they had grown accustomed to from the diseased. This was more primordial, more loathing and infinitely more terrifying. It was a sound that had skulked in the background of humanity over the ages and had prevailed against fear and hatred and adversity. It was a sound that had made brave men weak. Lewis felt his skin crawl and the hairs on his arms stood on end. Then, all of a sudden, things started to move faster than he could possibly hope to follow, as though it had been a battle cry. There was a blur as a figure leapt past him from overhead. Then he saw someone materialize into view towards the top of the staircase. Something flashed by his ear, just missing him. He ducked as there was a crash behind. He did not know which direction to look in, so much was happening all at once. There was another scream, this time from above him, and he swung his rifle around.
If the soldiers had learned from their previous encounters with the vampires, then the vampires had also adapted their tactics. As before, Simeon used the same approach, but this time he was aided by the distraction provided by his fellows. The table leg that Ricardo threw at Lewis narrowly missed and smashed into the wall right beside Corporal Bell. As Simeon landed on the first floor he roared. It was a particularly terrifying sight, such an imposing, malevolent creature up so close. The spacing the soldiers had maintained between them meant that he could only reach Corporal Gillen and Leading Aircraftman Neale. With a single swipe he sent them both tumbling. Sergeant Vallage was next closest and he immediately reacted. Simeon had not even paused however. Without hesitation he grabbed Corporal Bamburac and hoisted him up, even as he himself bounced over the hand rail and down to the ground floor. It was one smooth, flowing movement and nobody had a chance to intervene.
Of all the soldiers only Straddling had not yet started up the steps. He had been distracted by a noise close by. Farzin had shrieked and kicked open the nearest fire door, drawing his attention. Straddling instinctively fired a brief burst but he did not properly see his target and did not know whether he had hit his mark. The next thing he knew there was a thud as Simeon landed, with Bamburac crashing down right next to him. Straddling recoiled in shock and took a quick step backwards. He turned as the giant vampire dived into the nearest office, bearing Bamburac as a human shield. Straddling was not deterred by this obstacle. He fired in his direction, keeping his aim low to try to avoid hitting his colleague, in the hope of clipping the vampire’s legs and bringing him down. Alas the creature disappeared from sight with the stricken soldier still firmly in his grasp.
“Follow me,” Straddling shouted at Walkden.
But Flight Lieutenant Andrew Walkden was already moving. Straddling had lurched backwards and Walkden was now a step or two in front. He took a couple of paces, just as the fire doors were kicked open by Farzin again. He flicked his safety catch to automatic as the demonic vampire loomed right in front of him, tall and pale and leering. His mouth was open, displaying his fearsome teeth and his claws were long and blood-stained. Rather surprisingly and contrary to his previous performance in the field, Walkden, to his credit, reacted instantly. Farzin was only a few strides away, even as he swung his rifle around. The vampire seemed to pause as though enjoying the moment, even as Walkden screamed in angry defiance. Its fangs were wide open and its eyes flickered demonically in a hideous expression of glee, even as he fired. His ammo sprayed as he had been instructed. This was not, however, the commanded short burst that Lewis had said to use. He was absolutely taking no chances. He was absolutely not going to permit this monster to live for one second longer. He was absolutely going to make up for his own errors in the field. This was his moment to be a hero. The anger of the past few weeks, of the hiding and the fear and the mourning of the dead, welled up in him as he shrieked and fired. Perhaps just as surprisingly, the blood welled up in him and gushed forth in a graceful spout as Farzin’s talons neatly and completely severed the carotid artery on the side of his neck. He slammed into the wall, his shots firing uselessly into the ceiling as the creature dodged nimbly and leapt to safety. By the time Straddling had made it to the fire doors it was several long strides away. It threw itself at an open doorway as Straddling roared. His ammo traced the vampire’s disappearing silhouette as Walkden slumped to the ground.
Lewis could feel the adrenalin and the fear wash through his body in equal measure. He tried to ignore the voice in his head shouting, demanding, that he run. He brought his rifle up and fired. The weapon bucked in his hands as though alive, desperate to release its pent up message of death. It was not, however, death that it brought. The creature that had thrown the table leg at him - Ricardo - had already dodged back out of sight. It was only present long enough to provide the vital distraction.
As Lewis’s finger released and the bullets subsided Ricardo again revealed himself. He was close enough for Lewis to see his face clearly. The unnaturally dark hair with the white forelock, all tied back in a ponytail, looked entirely too precise for such a brigand of death. The eyes were as black as tar and even more soulless than those of the infected, and the beard was too carefully manicured for one with such disdain for life. The creature had the debonair flair of a pirate from old swashbuckling films but it was tinged with a mockingly sarcastic derision. It moved with a distinctive flamboyant flourish and its purpose seemed all the more evil for the contradiction. There were signs of a recent struggle upon its visage. Its face was scratched and bruised, and there was blood upon its clothes, which gave Lewis hope that these creatures were not indestructible. If they bleed they can surely be killed.
It timed its re-emergence perfectly, as though reading exactly when he would stop sho
oting. Its hand was already raised, ready to cast another object with fatal force but for Corporal Bell’s intervention. He had just recovered from the shock of the first missile that had almost hit him. He was so on edge that it would have been harder for him to actually resist shooting than it was for him to fire. His shots erupted forth without real aim but they were close enough to serve a constructive purpose. The second object was never flung and Ricardo retreated from view once more. Without time to think about the danger or form a coherent plan, Lewis pressed forwards the slight, momentary advantage. He charged. With a shout he surged up the remaining stairs in chase and fired.
Straddling ran after Farzin with his trigger finger poised. He slowed and tentatively peered into the open doorway through which the creature had fled, aware only too acutely that he was alone and chasing a vampire. The room was empty. The window was smashed but there was no sign outside. He noticed Vallage going into the office that the larger vampire had gone into, and followed him. Inside the room the body of Bamburac lay still. Blood was seeping from his neck but it no longer had the urgency that it possessed before. Now it was more like a tired afterthought. Bamburac’s eyes were open but Straddling could feel no pulse. The window was smashed and again there was no sign of the vampire.
Firing sounded from above.
“Let’s go,” Straddling said quietly, “before we get left behind.”
The thought was enough to spur Vallage into movement.
The creature turned and looked directly into Lewis’s eyes as he pressed the trigger. It must have been ten paces away already but close enough for Lewis to be confident of hitting it. It stood still for just a second as if it was measuring or assessing him. It was extremely unnerving. As he fired it lurched as though yanked away on strings by an invisible puppet master and hurled itself through an open door. Lewis slowed his advance and cautiously approached the room. With his back pressed firmly against the opposite wall he sidled closer, glancing in. There was no sign of it. Broken glass from the window was scattered around, and the Venetian blinds had been ripped from their fittings. An old, decomposing corpse was in the corner but it was to the floor just outside the room that Lewis’s attention was drawn. There were a few drops of blood; fresh blood. He felt a small flush of victory at this, hoping that his aim had been true, that it was the blood of the damned, rather than from one of his men.
Twice Bitten, Twice Die (The Blood of the Infected Book 3) Page 33