Wildfire: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Survival Thriller (The Hurst Chronicles Book 3)

by Robin Crumby

  They were handed some antibacterial soap that smelled like hospital disinfectant. The nurse scrubbed them down with a long-handled brush. Their groans and protestations at the jet of cold water brought a smile to the nurse’s face. She made no secret of her amusement at their discomfort and embarrassment.

  When their ignominious treatment was over, she handed them each a grey-green towelling dressing robe and escorted them through to a changing room where army-issue clothing was neatly folded in various sizes.

  They were ushered barefoot through another sealed doorway into a long corridor that was abuzz with activity. The communal space had been recommissioned as a clearing centre for others like them who had been disinfected and were now waiting to return to their own sections. A guard showed their group through to a meeting room where they were told to wait for the major.

  A few minutes later, there was a rap at the door, and the major and his entourage surged inside. He slapped a pile of papers on the meeting room table.

  “The lab just got back to us. They confirmed the agent is VX.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “How many casualties?”

  “So far, we have three confirmed dead and more than a dozen injured, but we’re expecting many more. Lab Four seems to be the worst affected.”

  “Could this have been a spill?”

  “This was no accident. There’s been no research involving organophosphates for decades here.”

  “Then where the hell did it come from?”

  The major unrolled a large map showing the Porton Down site and the various buildings within the perimeter fence.

  “Over here, there’s a secure biohazard storage bunker deep underground that contains trace quantities of various pathogens and agents. We keep them for training purposes. I suppose it’s possible that there could have been a break-in.”

  “Has anyone at ground level confirmed that?” challenged the colonel.

  “We’re still trying to get confirmation, but unfortunately, our communication systems are out temporarily.”

  “Since when?”

  “A few hours ago.”

  The colonel’s face turned puce with rage.

  “Until we know for sure, we have to assume that the whole base is under attack,” conceded the major. “We don’t even know whether the perimeter is still secure.”

  “We’re trying to restore contact with the surface.”

  Zed noticed the colour slowly drain from the colonel’s face as if he were facing up to his worst fears for the first time.

  “We know there was an explosion inside the perimeter fence around 2110 hours. We think it came from here,” he said, pointing to an area shaded grey on the map. “In the maintenance area. We lost power to some of the lower levels around the same time. For some reason, the backup systems never kicked in. I have an electrical team working on rerouting power. Most of the surface camera systems are offline. Right now we’re blind.”

  “What’s your best guess, major?”

  “To target the underground labs would have required someone on the inside.”

  “A disgruntled employee? Someone with a grudge against Porton?”

  “There must be one or two of those around,” muttered Zed under his breath.

  “But why attack the labs?”

  “Lab Four is where the vaccine trials were taking place. It’ll be out of action until we can get a clean-up crew in there. Several of the clinical trials team were injured. Worse-case scenario: we’re potentially looking at a delay of several weeks.”

  “It gets worse,” continued the major. “We’ve lost power to the refrigeration units where we keep stocks of vaccine. We’ve rigged a couple of portable generators down there, but it’s not a long-term fix.”

  “So this was a deliberate attempt to disrupt our operations, pure and simple,” confirmed the major.

  “And the agent? What exactly are we dealing with?”

  “VX is extremely toxic. Invisible, no taste, takes the victim entirely unawares. Nasty stuff. By the time you realise it’s there, it’s already too late.”

  “Presumably banned under various conventions?”

  “Yes, but several countries still maintained large stockpiles, which is why we train our forces in how to defend themselves against VX.”

  “Nerve gas is a dirty, indiscriminate weapon,” said the colonel.

  “We knew Pyongyang was testing an intercontinental ballistic missile capable of delivering a chemical or biological payload. VX was still listed as a current threat to national security.”

  “Saddam was a big fan of organophosphates,” confirmed Zed. “Back in 1988, the UN inspection teams found hundreds of men, women and children suffering from exposure to a nerve agent. Their injuries were horrific. Even mild exposure led to rapid convulsions, paralysis and death.”

  “It’s a horrible way to die. A lingering, painful death. Paralysis then suffocation.” The major shook his head.

  “How does it work?” asked the colonel.

  “Nerve gases disrupt a key enzyme in our nervous system, meaning muscles stop working properly,” continued the major. “With paralysis in the chest, lungs quickly fill with liquid, your heart doubles in size, blurred vision, degradation in mental and physical capabilities, disorientation, depression, and despair. It moves unseen, killing without sound. I won’t bore you with all the details.”

  “VX was a British breakthrough,” acknowledged Zed.

  “Trust me, be grateful it was just VX. VX is primitive compared to some of the other biological agents they could have used.”

  “Why did most of the safety systems fail?”

  “Someone must have planned this meticulously. They knew our weaknesses,” suggested the major. “We’ve had to shut down power to all non-essential areas. We’re still running on backup. We’re moving staff to the upper levels, for their own safety.”

  “How long can we last on the backup ventilation system?”

  “Twelve hours, possibly longer if we close off the sub-levels.”

  “Then we can’t stay down here indefinitely.”

  “We’ve got enough food and water to last weeks. This whole bunker complex was designed to withstand a nuclear attack.”

  “Not without air though. The planners never considered a ground assault. Disabling the ventilation systems and backup power was a masterstroke.”

  Zed listened to the exchange with growing alarm. The colonel had always maintained that this was the most secure site in the country. Right now, Porton Down seemed as vulnerable as anywhere else.

  “We’ve checked the computer log files,” said the major. “There’s no trace of a hack or unauthorised access, which suggests that it’s something mechanical. It’s going to take longer to find. Whoever did this knew how to cover their tracks.”

  “Right now, the safest thing we can do is to stay put. This whole place is designed to withstand a direct hit by ground-penetrating ordinance. The blast doors at the main entrance are three feet thick. There’s no way in.”

  “That’s hardly the point. We think they may have been barricaded from the outside.”

  “If the blast doors are blocked, there must be another way out of here?”

  “Once the base goes into lockdown, there’s only one means of access, and that’s sealed.”

  “Can we cut our way through?”

  “We have a team at the main door now with an acetylene torch. It’s going to take time.”

  “Keep trying to reach the base commander on the surface. We’ve got a chance of coordinating a breakout.”

  “Whatever we’re going to do, we need to hurry,” said the colonel. “The air down here is going to become unbreathable in a few hours.”

  “Colonel, I think you’re overestimating their chances of success. We’ve got some of the smartest people in the country,” challenged Major Donnelly. “If they can’t figure it out, then God help us.”

&nb
sp; “There is one option we should consider, sir,” suggested the major. “Doctor Hardy’s team can produce any number of toxic substances. All we need are those samples from the storage bunker. We could fight fire with fire.”

  “And risk contaminating the whole base and killing more of our own people?”

  “We are at war, gentlemen. At this stage, we cannot afford to rule out any options, however unpalatable.”

  “But surely not this,” cautioned Zed.

  “If they take any more of our core systems offline, things could quickly deteriorate.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Riley and Heather took their places in one of the empty pews at the back of the chapel within the secure military compound at St Mary’s hospital. Heather was reluctant to go anywhere near the front in case the sister picked on her generation again.

  In a raised voice from the pulpit, the sister was giving a combative response to a question from the congregation. She looked up and nodded at Riley as they took their places.

  “But hasn’t he punished us enough?” shouted a voice from the back.

  “Did you really believe that things could just go back to the way they were? We’ve still learned nothing. The pandemic was the beginning of God’s punishment, not the end. His anger still burns bright.”

  “So what does he expect us to do?”

  “Repent before it’s too late. God has spoken to us through the virus.”

  “Haven’t we lost enough?”

  “We still have so much more to lose. He tried to warn us, and we ignored him. People chose not to see or hear. Did you not notice the great storms and floods? The forest fires, tsunamis and earthquakes increasing in ferocity each year? Politicians and scientists have argued for years about climate change and pollution, but no one saw these events for what they really were. These were his warnings.”

  “Don’t we deserve a second chance?” asked an adolescent near the front. “Is it not too late to seek forgiveness?”

  “The chance for redemption has passed. The doors of mercy have been closed in our faces. I believe God is now irreconcilably angry.”

  “What did we do that was so wrong?”

  “How many of you can claim to be without sin?” she said, surveying the room, waiting for anyone brave or foolish enough to raise their hand. “How many of us are guilty in thought as much as deed?”

  She pointed to the same adolescent who had asked the earlier question, now shrinking in her seat, hoping the ground would swallow her up.

  “Your generation was the most worthy of blame. The vanity and conceit of social media, heads buried in your phones. The rest of you are just as guilty of hypocrisy and pride. You should all be grateful your lives were spared.”

  The double doors at the back of the chapel creaked open, and a gust of cold wind swept down the aisle, causing Riley to wrap her coat tighter. The door slammed shut again. Everyone turned to see the chaplain striding towards the lectern, carrying a cumbersome cardboard box.

  “Don’t let me interrupt you. I just came to hand these round.” His voice echoed around the half-empty pews and arches. He pulled out a large stack of white surgical face masks, counting out the requisite number and passing them to the person nearest the aisle in each of the pews.

  “Father, I was just explaining to these good people why God is so angry.”

  “That’s right. We are like souls on a sinking ship in the middle of a great storm,” added the padre. “Our vessel is perilously close to the rocks, but the passengers are oblivious to the danger. Unbeknown to them all, the ship is already holed below the water line. If we don’t wake ourselves from this comfortable slumber, we will all drown.”

  “The choices we make now,” continued Sister Imelda, “will determine whether we steer a course away from those rocks or disappear into the darkest depths, never to be seen again.”

  “I choose to believe that we are not helpless, and nor should we act so,” encouraged the Padre.

  “Our fate and the fate of mankind are in God’s hands.”

  “We can all start by wearing the masks I’m handing out. The base commander requires that we wear them in public places, starting immediately.”

  Seeing alarm in the faces around him, he added quickly, “I’m sure it’s just a precaution.”

  “Padre, the sister told us that this pandemic was only the beginning. Do you believe that too?”

  “Absolutely. Do you not remember the story in the Bible about the plagues of Egypt?” He paused, looking around the congregation, seeing a few heads nodding. “That’s right. God punished the Egyptians and its Pharaoh for refusing to set the Hebrews free. If we still refuse to repent, then we should expect not just more pestilence, but civil war, famine, and deprivation until all remaining evil is purged from the Earth.”

  “I’m starving. Can we get out of here?” whispered Heather, struggling to conceal a yawn. Riley nudged her in the ribs to behave herself.

  “There can’t be too much more of this,” said Riley, secretly quite enjoying it.

  “I’ve heard it all a hundred times before. At the school, they were forever telling us it was our fault. I’m fed up with this brainwashing nonsense. Please?”

  As they stood up to leave, the sister looked up from the book of Isaiah and glared in their direction.

  “‘According to what they have done, so will He repay wrath to his enemies and retribution to his foes; He will repay the islands their due.’”

  “Does Isiah mean this island, sister? Or all islands?”

  “Not literally, child, but his coming will be ‘as brilliant as the sunrise’,” she continued with a flourish. “Pestilence will ‘march before him’, and plague will ‘follow close behind’. It says there will be a terrible harvest, and souls will fall from the tree of life like leaves in the autumn.”

  “Then how should we prepare?”

  “Know thyself so that you may repent before your sins are exposed. The Day of Judgement is upon us,” proclaimed the sister. “For those of you who have lived a penitent life, your suffering will be at an end. For those you who have sinned, you can expect an eternity of pain and suffering.”

  “Come on,” whispered Riley. “I think we’ve heard enough.”

  Outside the chapel, they found Sergeant Jones waiting for them. Light rain was just beginning to fall, and they sheltered inside the chapel porch.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We just got our orders. I wanted to say goodbye.”

  “I see. When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow. Depends when we complete our mission.”

  He seemed more guarded than usual with Heather standing there. His body language seemed off, awkward somehow. She couldn’t decide whether his feelings for her were getting in the way or whether there was something else.

  “Well, you look after yourself.” She smiled. “Make sure you come back in one piece.”

  He said her name and then stopped. It was suddenly apparent that there was something he needed to get off his chest.

  “Heather, can you give us a minute?”

  The girl shrugged and set off towards the main building. Sergeant Jones closed the gap between them and put his huge hands on her shoulders.

  “What is it?”

  “Look, there’s no other way to say this. You need to get as far away from here as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “No one here is safe. They’re already losing control. Things are getting crazy. If the outbreak reaches St Mary’s, they won’t be able to stop it. Lieutenant Peterson is ordering all non-essential US personnel back to the Chester, effective immediately.”

  “You’re all just going to leave?”

  “We have too. Here,” he said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out an army-issue surgical mask. “Wear this at all times.”

  “It’s going to take more than that.”

  “I know, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “What do you
expect us to do? I’d go back to Freshwater, but this place is on lockdown.”

  “Then find another way out. Remember the outdoor education centre I told you about at Medina Valley? It’s north-east of here. Find a boat and leave. It’s your best chance. Don’t wait too long.” He pulled Riley in tight and hugged her. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Stay safe.”

  “I will,” she said, her eyes closed as she squeezed him back.

  ****

  Riley hurried after Heather who was nearly back at the main hospital building.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” sneered Heather.

  “No, we’re just friends. Anyway, he’s not my type.”

  “Didn’t seem that way to me. I saw you two.”

  “It’s not like that. He’s leaving, going back to his ship. He just wanted to say goodbye.” She stopped and waited for Heather to walk back to her. “Look, as soon as Adele is well enough, we’ve got to find a way out of here.”

  “Why the sudden urgency?”

  “Because if this new outbreak gets worse, we want to be as far away from the crowds as we can. Hospitals, military bases, refugee camps are going to get hit the hardest. We need to get back to Freshwater.”

  As they approached the main complex, Riley became increasingly aware of the crowd gathered outside the front entrance.

  Turning the corner, they saw hundreds of people with placards. They were chanting something she couldn’t make out at first. It sounded like “Let us in.”

  Strewn around the grass verges was the detritus from several canvas tents destroyed by the soldiers in their latest attempt to clear the area overnight when the crowds had thinned. Faces were pressed against the wire mesh. Soldiers dressed in hazmat suits looked on passively, keeping watch on the crowd.

  Heather lingered, puzzled by the scene. They were shouting at her, trying to get her to approach the fence until Riley pulled her away.

  “Come on, let’s go and find Adele.”

  In the hospital ward, they were surprised to find Adele sitting up in her bed, alert and close to her usual self. She was still a little pale, and there was a drip attached to her arm.

  “Look at you. Who’s made a speedy recovery?”