Salby Damned

by Ian D. Moore

  The C.O. caught the gaze of the doctor, clearly wishing to ask a question.

  “Sir, you have a question?”

  “Yes, Doctor, what do we know about them so far?”

  “They are unable to communicate due to the sedation and are strapped and gagged for the safety of the staff. As far as we know, they are not aware of their circumstances. We have monitored brain activity and taken samples of DNA, blood, and tissues. You’ll be able to review our results, Dr. Shepherd, and I’m sure you will want to see our patients. I’m sorry to report that the first trials of an anti-virus serum were unsuccessful, only managing to thwart the viral signature for half an hour before it retaliated and almost killed the subject.”

  The C.O. gasped at the final remark, urging the doctor to continue with his report.

  “We’re missing something. I stress something, because we don’t know what. Our guests are deteriorating daily, and we may not have much time left with them. So Sir, the capture of live subjects needs to be a priority, I would suggest. As far as the facility is concerned, there appears to be no damage to this level.”

  “What do you suggest we do next, Doctor?” the C.O. asked.

  “As I mentioned, the lower level has been sealed off. We have rations and a basic operational canteen. Almost all of the maintenance, catering, and cleaning staff are all fit and well, with only a few minor natural medical issues that we have managed. We’ll need more supplies into here, and if you’re thinking of getting to the storage level, I warn you that you’ll need specialist teams. Lord knows what the damage there is, and we can only hope that the other tanks are intact; one breach is serious enough. I’ll brief you on the scientific work in private, Dr. Shepherd. No offence is intended to anyone,” Mathew concluded, a knowing look directed at the military officer.

  Evie stood and thanked the doctor for his report. It seemed that the main facility had escaped serious damage or casualties and that was excellent news. It would allow the facility to become the centre for the creation and manufacture of a cure. Evie turned to address the C.O.

  “I suggest we split up. I need your team, Colonel, to oversee the capture of live infected subjects of different ages, genders, and ethnicities. It seems that this level of the facility is secure, and we have no need to enter the storage area yet. Could you contact someone to arrange to access it for assessment in the near future, to see what needs to be done to repair it and make it sound?”

  “I’ll get onto it as soon as possible,” he replied.

  “We’ll need to get that sorted as soon as possible; as long as we don't know of its status, there is a risk of further viral release. I will need to remain here for the time being so that I can work with our two patients while we still have time. By all means, leave a security detail with us, if you see fit, though I suspect you’ll have more important things for your men to do back on the base. Nate, I’ll need to see you before you leave, please.”

  “Very good, Lieutenant,” replied the C.O., using her military title before continuing, “The plans to capture live infected subjects should be well under way. Major Sower has his instructions and the tranquiliser rifles have been sent to the guard towers as far as I’m aware. It’s only a matter of time now before we have some subjects. We’ll head back to the base. Sergeant Wilkes, Hobbs, and Lewis, if you would, remain to protect the staff, and you’ll be under the command of Lieutenant Dr. Shepherd whilst you are here. Staff Sergeant Stewall, Sergeant Cross, you will accompany me back to the base. I’ll need your help with the infected.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Nathan and Chris responded.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. If there is nothing more, I won’t keep you all from your work as time is critical. Within ten days, the virus will have spread nationwide and our only saving grace at the moment is that we live on an island. If this spreads to mainland Europe, we’ll be looking at millions dead instead of hundreds of thousands. You are the best hope to contain it. Other facilities will be trying their best to find a vaccine too, I’m sure, so let’s see if we can give this virus a run for its money,” Evie said. With a final look at her colleagues, she raised her hands to indicate that they could return to their work.

  As the staff filed out, returning to their assignments, Evie pulled Nathan to one side for a moment.

  “You be careful with them. Don’t take any chances, do you hear me?” she said firmly.

  “I will, promise. Same goes for you. Take it steady down here. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

  He wanted to kiss her, but it would not have been appropriate in front of the C.O. or the other medical staff, so instead, he held her hand softly, allowing her fingers to slip through his as he pulled away. He left the room behind the C.O. and Chris, looking back once on the way to the airlock doors.

  Evie took a few deep breaths before joining her team in the laboratory, keen to take a look at the infected, to start the research, and find a cure for the monster that had been released. She thought of Nathan but also of Tom, Holly, and their missing mother. She thought of the future, and for the first time in days, there was some hope. Finding her team alive and the facility intact was a sign, surely. A sign that the tables were about to turn and that together, they could beat this.

  *******

  Progress

  In the absence of the C.O., command fell upon the shoulders of Major Paul Sower. He was a man of experience, having risen through the ranks to his present position. There were some who saw him as a relic of the old British Army, outside the modern fighting force. Men like him were no longer the ideal of the pen-pushing politicians, who constantly bickered over the budget of the armed forces.

  The major had instructed the guard commanders to attempt to take some of the infected alive, sedate them, and transport them to the military cells block on the base. The rifles had gone to the guard posts about an hour after he had watched the team and his C.O. leave in the helicopters, heading for the Salby installation. He hoped that they had made it and that it was all going to plan. The technical wizards that formed part of the Royal Signals had managed to access the company laptop and recovered information from it. There were many personnel files and details of those on shift at the time of the explosion. Each record contained information on the employee, such as aptitude test results and any disciplinary procedures that had been invoked.

  The file on Brin Garrett made for interesting reading; it threw some light on why he'd ignored instructions not to drill near the town boundary. The major looked through a file labelled confidential; it was now in paper form for him. Flicking through it, he noted the company psychological evaluation that was performed on all employees when they started. The evaluation of Mr. Garrett indicated that he was strong-minded, anti-authority, but with exceptional problem-solving skills. He'd been employed by the company for twenty years and had worked on large contracts; in almost all cases, the projects had been finished well ahead of schedule, and he'd been financially well-rewarded for his efforts.

  The major spotted an entry from the previous month about an internal company investigation that had been launched against Mr. Garrett; it hadn't been completed. It seemed there had been unexplained changes in his lifestyle, and by association, his newfound wealth had concerned the company. One Colin Snape, the assistant chief executive officer, had sanctioned the internal investigation. Now why would that be? the major thought.

  He noted that Mr. Garrett was only five years away from retiring which, given his years of service, would have cost the company a substantial amount in pension payments at retirement. Would that be reason enough for an internal investigation? There must be something bigger, the major thought, as he closed the file on his desk. He stood slowly, intent on overseeing the capture of the first infected victim. He was just about to head for the door when he heard a knock.

  “Come,” he said, as he sat in his chair again.

  Corporal Simms approached his desk, well turned out, as always. She marched towards him, stopping short of the s
tained oak heavy table, before her right foot dug into the carpeted floor of his office and her arm came straight out sideways, in a perfect arc to finish with her forefinger just touching her cap badge.

  “At ease, Corporal. What can I do for you, young lady?” the major said.

  He had taken her under his wing when she first arrived, thought very highly of her, and admired her determination in everything she did. If truth be known, he had a fatherly soft spot for the girl.

  “Good morning, Sir. I am sorry to trouble you so early, but I have something that might interest you. It was given to me by two employees of SGFC, Sir, late last night. I apologise for the delay in getting it to you. I did try, but what with the meetings and all, I simply didn’t get chance,” she replied and handed over a small metal-cased object.

  “It’s quite alright, Corporal. I know you have been kept exceptionally busy over the last few days and it doesn’t go unnoticed, I can assure you. What do we have here?”

  “I think it is part of a computer, Major. The two employees seemed very on edge and desperate to get it to either yourself or the C.O. urgently. I came with it as soon as I could, Sir.”

  “You have done all you could, Corporal Simms. I will see that it goes to the technical boys straight away. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. With any luck, it will help in our investigations. You look exhausted. When was your last R&R?”

  “That was the weekend, I think, Sir,” she said quietly, not quite sure of the weekday.

  “Right, there is nothing pressing for the rest of the day unless the C.O. returns. I don’t want to see you in uniform until tomorrow morning, Corporal. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” she said. She beamed a smile despite trying to remain formal as she braced herself for a salute, before turning on her heel and marching out of the major's office.

  ***

  At the guard fences, sporadic fire could be heard; the infected had resumed their assault on the base defences. The influx of survivors continued to keep the base resources stretched. Several successful supply missions had been completed, bringing in much-needed food and essentials. Lists were constantly forwarded to the teams for urgent items, and the helicopters rarely stopped unless to refuel or for maintenance.

  Both tranquiliser rifles had been sent into action; one on the west side at tower two and the other on the north fence at tower one. The medical teams had been placed on full alert, and the secure cells had been prepared in readiness for the first of the arrivals.

  The major dropped the flat metal box into the technical team, giving instructions to crack it and find out what it held, and he headed for West Tower Two on the perimeter fence. The sun had risen on a beautiful day, now nearing 1000 hours; it felt good to have the heat upon his face.

  As the officer approached the tower, he heard timed shots after verbal warnings had failed to halt the approaching figures. The major wondered if anyone had considered, at the time they made this virus, what would happen if it accidentally got loose, as it undoubtedly had. If not, then that's one hell of an oversight, he thought as he climbed the steps to the platform.

  “Good morning, Sir,” said a soldier, though it sounded more like “sar.” The veteran senior non-commissioned officer exaggerated his address.

  “Good morning, Sergeant. Are we set for the first of our patients?”

  “Yes, Sir. The duty guard commander told us we need to choose targets of different ages and ethnic backgrounds if we can. Given that we haven’t yet tried the tranquiliser rifle, I would suggest a young target first, Sir. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Good thinking, Sergeant. It would be prudent to see if the anaesthetic does the trick and to see how long it takes to render someone unconscious. Keep your eyes peeled for a suitable target, and by all means, shoot when ready.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the sergeant replied.

  It took almost half an hour for a younger victim of the virus to break through the woodland scrub. The sergeant spotted the girl, early teens, in faded jeans and a T-shirt that read, “Rock Yeah!” across her front. He held her in the crosshairs of the large day scope, mounted on his own AWM sniper rifle, measuring her steps before he passed the weapon to the major.

  “Loaded, safety on, Sir. Look over by the tree line at your two o’ clock. Young female, Sir, white T-shirt.”

  “I see her, Sergeant. She would be the perfect first patient. When you’re ready, see if you can bring her in closer first, but be sure she doesn’t reach the minefield.”

  “Yes, Sir, will do.”

  The major took the loud hailer, which crackled as he switched it on.

  “Attention! Do not fire upon the approaching girl. Repeat, do not fire upon the approaching girl. I want her alive and unharmed. We will take her, so stand by to recover her once the anaesthetic knocks her out. Guards, lay down covering fire.”

  The sergeant placed his sniper rifle on the small table, picking up the gas-powered tranquiliser rifle. It had only a very basic sight system, and unlike his sniper rifle, there were no mil-dot markings for distance.

  With the girl rapidly approaching the mined area, he estimated the range to be no more than forty feet, tops. Given the reduced power of the weapon and the weight of the dart, he would allow an inch for drop. Fortunately, there was only a light breeze today or it could have been tricky. Ideally, he wanted the dart to puncture her chest as close to the heart as possible, without hitting the breastbone, to ensure that the dart penetrated and remained in place. This would speed up the action of the anaesthetic.

  Raising the rifle, he took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly until the sights settled just below her chin. He needed to allow her room to fall forwards without landing on the mines. A couple more steps, two more; in, out, one more in, out now, hold, and fire. The rifle recoiled and sent the dart at surprising speed over the top of the fence to drop slightly, losing inertia and drifting downwards towards the girl.

  It struck her just below her left breast and embedded itself in her skin. The sergeant began to count. One, one thousand, two, two thousand, three, three thousand, four, and the girl’s legs buckled beneath her as she crumpled into the grass, a mere two feet from the edge of the mine strip.

  “Well done, Sergeant,” the major exclaimed, impressed at the execution.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  With twenty or so rifles and the sergeant back with the AWM on the tower covering them, a group of five soldiers hurried towards the prone girl. Two of them hooked under her arms, lifting her clear of the ground, while the other three formed a triangular shield with weapons facing the woodland. They walked swiftly back through the gates, which were closed and locked behind them.

  They placed the youngster into the back of a waiting Land Rover as the major sat in the passenger seat, his service Colt drawn as he covered the unconscious girl to the Military Police building. A group of doctors and medical staff, all in brilliant white coats, were ready with a wheeled stretcher to take her inside. Leaving the Land Rover, the major followed the stretcher into the foyer and down the narrow grey-coloured hall to the cells block, making sure there was a secure area for the girl and she would be comfortable, even if not aware of her surroundings.

  Inside, the cell had a wheeled bed of the type found in hospitals; this one had been modified to allow arms, chest, and feet to be strapped. Within a few minutes, the girl was connected to intravenous feeds supplying fluids and sustenance. The aim was to keep her in a stable state, but unconscious, for her own safety and that of the staff.

  The medical staff wasted no time taking her vital signs, connecting heart and blood pressure monitors, and taking DNA samples from the inside of her cheek. Then they took fingerprints to try to help identify their new young patient, along with digital images of her face.

  She looked peaceful but her eyes were fully open and as black as night; it was hard to tell that she was sedated. One of the nurses gently closed the lids, holding them there until they stayed shut on their own. S
he then placed a filtering mask over her patient’s mouth, which allowed her to breathe and would prevent saliva contamination.

  The girl was about seventeen years old, 5-feet-6-inches tall with short cut dark brown hair that was slightly matted, and looked as if she’d been reasonably fit. Her white sneakers were covered in soil and the faded jeans had been torn in places, scratching the skin at her thighs and lower legs to reveal the jelly-like blood that had self-sealed the wounds as she had walked.

  She had one other injury: a bite wound to her right shoulder. While the wound looked deep, it had sealed quickly, with only the smallest blood residue before the virus had taken over her system. They swabbed the tiny bloodstain in the hope that there would be enough to identify her blood type, which would be held on record.

  Content that the operation had been a success; the major thanked the medical staff for their assistance and left instructions to be kept informed of progress. He would give them a few hours before attempting to take another live victim of the virus, by which time the C.O. would have returned from Salby.

  ***

  Now, feeling the need for a change of scenery, the major wandered slowly towards the activities hangar. Despite his sixty-two years, he did like to keep his hand in and he felt it important that he should be up to speed with what was happening on the base, and not just those issues that were immediate. He entered the play area hangar. The first thing he noticed was the noise level, reverberating off the sheet metal roof around the cavernous ceiling. Is that normal? he wondered.

  Amid the sea of small bodies, there were tables and chairs scattered around, each overseen by a volunteer child-minder, mostly female but a few males too. Bundles of coloured paper were scattered over one table, along with pipe cleaners, bits of wire, scissors, and a small pair of pliers. Folded tissue paper, pots of watercolour paint, and a dubious-looking tub of sticky glue with a forlorn-looking caked brush rapidly sinking into the gooey substance sat perilously close to the edge of the table to his left. He tugged at the wooden handle of the brush, pulling quite hard against the quicksand-like glue. and pulling it free, he set it on a piece of scrap paper at the base of the tub.