Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City (19 page)

‘Where else? They were flying low and fast.’

‘This is completely off the record, okay?’

Gemma nodded, leaning close.

‘I heard the containment centre at the hospital was breached last night. DSD operations were suspended the same night.’

Gemma’s eyes went wide. ‘So they let these things, the infected people escape?’

‘Once containment’s breached, I doubt anyone could stop them.’ This girl would never learn how he knew. That shameful secret died with Solomon. He was still perplexed as to why Peterson would deliberately engineer the disaster.

‘Too many mistakes. How many people will be hurt, even killed now?’

Magarth shrugged. His mouth was dry, a combination of nerves and the night’s whiskey. ‘Listen, you seem keen for the story. Come with me to the hospital tomorrow. When we meet up with the military, you get to see everything as it happens, and get a scoop any reporter would relish.’

Gemma was silent for a moment. Magarth worried that he overplayed his hand, maybe seemed too eager.

‘What’s in it for you?’ she asked.

‘I get to go home. It’s a mix up that I’m still here in the first place. I flash my ID card to the military, they chopper me out.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘Keep your sarcasm to yourself. I have a pregnant wife waiting for me. I was supposed to be gone last night.’

Outside, a shrill scream cut off as abruptly as it began, and was followed by repeated grunts. Gemma scrambled on hands and knees to the window and slipped behind the closed curtains. Magarth followed and tugged at Gemma’s arm, pulling her low.

A group of seven figures, five men and two women, clustered around a fallen body, the snow at their feet stained. It looked purple in the morning light. They were all infected, full of edgy, fidgety movements. They desecrated the corpse using hands, feet and teeth, climbed over each other to feed. There was no brutality in the contest, just sheer determination to join the feast. Gemma’s breathing turned to gasps, but she did not look away. Magarth shook. He had come so close to ending up like the body lying out in the snow.

A female infected looked up and sniffed at the air. She let out a howl and charged across the street to another house, one with lights on. The others followed leaving behind what was left of the body. Despite the horror, Magarth thought it strange. The upper torso remained, so too, a leg and one arm, yet, they moved on to find another kill.

They threw themselves against a door. It gave way far too easily and they clambered through. Seconds later, they returned, two of them dragging a screaming woman by the hair, and a third clutched a small bundle, an untidy mop of blonde hair poking from night clothing. Enough. Magarth pulled Gemma away from the window.

‘That … that was a child.’

‘Gemma, we have to get to the hospital. Staying here is dangerous. It just takes one of those things to hear the baby upstairs and that’s us out there.’

‘How do you beat them?’

‘I don’t know.’

A silence fell between them, the screams from outside were thankfully short.

‘You’re right. We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.’

***

PC Galloway sat in the cushioned chair by the open window. The chill air mixed with the mechanical heat of the ward left him sitting in a comfortable temperature. The fresh air was welcome. Banging and shouting drifted up to meet him, distorted by the wind, or perhaps it was his imagination. He doubted what he heard. If only the weather would clear so he could see what was going on down there.

Jane returned to the room. ‘Anything?’

‘Can’t see anything for the snow. It’s like a haze that won’t lift. How’s everyone out there?’

‘As you’d expect, some better than others.’

She dragged a seat alongside, and like him, peered out into the white void. ‘I’ve never seen a winter like this before.’

‘We get them up north often enough. I’ve had to drive through eight-foot snowdrifts before. Right now, I’d happily be doing that rather than this.’

Jane’s gaze fell to the floor, her chin trembled.

‘You okay?’

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she sniffed, and her hand covered her face. She wept.

He offered a comforting hand. Jane moved from her seat and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself in close, her head resting against his chest.

‘Tell me things will be alright.’

‘Everything will be fine. We just need to wait out the night.’

‘Promise me, Nick. Promise you’ll keep me safe.’

‘I’ll do what I can.’

Jane sagged further against him, her body shaking with the effort of her tears. They remained like that for a time. Then, a rupture of quick cracks and pops.

‘What was that?’

‘Don’t know. I’ve been hearing noises for the last hour. I thought it was my imagination.’

‘It sounds like …’

‘Gun fire.’

Jane sat up straight. Nick felt a strange loss. It was nice being so close to someone.

‘Oh, Nick. What does that mean?’

‘The military are here. They’ll be looking for us.’

‘Officer. You’d better come see this.’ A nurse stood at the doorway.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘There’s someone at the door.’

They hurried to one of the barricaded doors on the far side of the ward. Staff members looked up as they passed. Every face was full of worry.

‘Here. We heard knocking on the door.’

‘A survivor?’ asked Jane.

Galloway placed his hands against the wall. His listened, but the sounds of the ward behind washed away all else. He leant in, held his ear to the wall. Scraping, like nails digging and clawing seemed to travel from the door to along the wall. Then a forceful thud. The door moved a little, so too the mountain of cupboards and tables barricading them in. He jumped back.

More thuds, this time accompanied by screeches. They wanted in.

‘Nobody comes near this door,’ he ordered.

Staff and patients cried.

‘Quiet. We’re safe,’ he said, summoning a tone of confidence. ‘The door’s strong. It’ll take a lot more than that to break it down. The military’s out there. As soon as they get in, we’ll be taken somewhere safe. I promise.’ PC Galloway was racking up a number of promises he was not sure he could keep, but the door seemed to be made of the required strength. It shifted only slightly with each thud. ‘I need you all to move to the other side of the ward. They’re attracted to our noise.’

‘You really think the doors will hold?’

‘Yes, Jane. I think they will. We’ll be rescued and out of the city by tomorrow evening, you’ll see.’ Another promise.

They returned to their vigil by the window in his room.

‘You lied,’ said Jane. It was not an accusation.

He couldn’t reply.

Gunfire ripped. It was not a crack or a pop this time. They leapt from their seats. Then three quick bursts of semi-automatic fire. Another burst followed. Galloway decided it must have come from one of the floors below, another ward. The army was here. One promise kept. ‘Seems I may not have lied after all. The army must be moving through the hospital.’

‘They’re shooting!’

‘Shooting the infected.’

‘Nick, I’m scared.’

‘So am I.’

Chapter 13

Mobilisation

Dr. Holden followed the solider through the doorway into yet another hotel. All morning, he had been ferried about various parts of the airport, sitting in on briefings and providing specific information when requested. He passed reception and two soldiers standing guard, rifles in hand. Two days before, this had been Dr. Holden’s domain, his charge. Now, he had no idea who he answered to, nor the measure of his relevance.

A suited shadow popped up beside him. ‘Black Aquila Group this time, Doctor.’ The shadow slipped a beige folder into Dr. Holden’s grasp and then hurried away.

On the cover, the black stylised eagle symbol, the same design that was on the side of the Chinook that provided the airlift. There was a chance they may have picked Magarth up later in the day.

Dr. Holden stepped into a large room. Six rows was his audience.

‘Dr. Holden, I’m Ben Williamson. Glad finally to meet you.’

Williamson was a giant man, wide and tall, and his baldhead was damp with perspiration. He held a thermos in one hand, the sharp smell of coffee clung to his breath.

‘A pleasure, I’m sure,’ said Dr. Holden, pulling his hand free from the strong handshake, a very strong handshake.

The big man beckoned over a soldier in camouflage dress. ‘Doctor, this is Captain Killian. He’s the liaison officer for the Joint Command, now in charge of this operation, and us, Black Aquila.’

The two shook hands.

‘Shall we begin?’ Williamson sipped his coffee.

‘Next to me, please, Doctor.’ Killian moved back to a table with a laptop. The lights in the room dulled. A projection system lit up the wall behind, and a map appeared. Killian stabbed a finger at the keyboard then clasped his hands behind his back.

‘I’ll make this as quick and painless as possible. You’ll have an opportunity to ask questions at the end, and I suggest you do.’ Killian cleared his throat. ‘Around three and a half weeks ago an unusual and particularly virulent outbreak was identified in Aberdeen. The World Health Organisation predicted a new influenza would sweep the globe, a pandemic. When that failed to occur, people took their fingers off the pulse. Here in Britain, the DSD set up to combat an outbreak of unusual symptoms in the main hospital here. A day or two later, the number of cases jumped from twelve confirmed to two hundred. The DSD then set up a containment centre to bring all cases into the city. As of yesterday, we lost contact. We’re still trying to work out what happened. As you all know, the city is now encircled and under martial law. Because of this, Joint Command felt the need to bring in Black Aquila and several other companies to fill roles and free up military man power.’

A rumble of conversation broke out.

‘You’ve all been provided with information regarding the infected and what to expect during an encounter. For now, I’ll give you a rundown of your duties. They’ve changed within the last hour. As you can appreciate, this is a very fluid situation. Black Aquila will be responsible for two areas. Union Terrace Gardens and also Aberdeen Royal Infirmary, or their codenames, The Grotto and Flashpoint. Army units are securing the hospital. Black Aquila will ensure no civilians make it to these restricted areas. The infected are to be brought down, citizens turned back and told to stay home, or moved to one of the displacement centres. You’ll be given constant support from the military and Joint Command, and will be working closely with the Civilian Assistance Force.’ Killian turned to Dr. Holden. ‘Doctor.’

Dr. Holden methodically covered the three stages of the infection warned his audience of the consequences of contact and exposure.

Killian interrupted. ‘There is a vaccine being synthesised as we speak, and will be available within the next two to three weeks.’

He shot a sideward look at Dr. Holden, as defined as a bullet, silencing the correction ready to spill from the doctor’s mouth.

‘Your rules of engagement are to use reasonable force. Your safety is utmost. Tasers, stun-rods and brute force are your best options. When you bring one down, they must be secured, hands and feet, and a mouth-guard applied. As the doctor warned, do not allow direct contact between yourself and the infected. Wear the provided rubber gloves at all times. Questions?’

‘So what do we call these things?’ someone asked. ‘Zombies?’

‘Infected, is the general term,’ answered Dr. Holden.

‘Eric Mann, Doctor.’

‘Mr. Mann?’

‘How are children to be dealt with?’

‘The same as an adult.’

‘Pregnant women?’

‘Again, the same.’

‘Disabled?’

‘Yes, Mr. Mann, and the disabled.’

***

Eric blocked out the questions and answers that followed. He flipped through a set of laminated A4 sheets, full of bullet points, bolded words, underlined phrases, images, all detailing symptoms and behaviours. Nothing Dr. Holden hadn’t covered.

‘You’re deep in thought,’ said Williamson.

‘I’m glad we’re not guarding the displacement centre. I don’t see how we’d have had the resources or expertise to work that effectively.’

‘How’d you know about that? Brutus?’

‘Brutus,’ Eric admitted.

Brutus stood at the back of the room, leaning against the wall. It was as if he knew he was being spoken of. He shrugged at Eric.

Question time was completed.

‘Mr. Mann.’ The doctor was by his side.

‘Dr. Holden, that was quite a speech.’

‘Taken seriously, I hope.’

‘As required.’

‘There’s something I’d like to ask of you. You’ll be heading to the hospital later today, Mr. Mann. I’m told I’ll be on the radio, the voice in your ear so to speak, should you need me.’

‘It makes sense to have you available.’

‘Yes. When we were airlifted out, one of my staff was left behind. A DSD staff member, Tim Magarth. He shouldn’t have been left. Please keep a watch for him and get him out of the city. His wife is pregnant. He needs to go home.’

‘Like most here, I’m sure.’

‘Please, Mr. Mann.’

Eric looked at the briefing pack, a picture of a woman strapped to a hospital bed, her face contorted, and teeth bared and ready to strike. He threw the file onto an empty chair. Time to suit up.

***

The weather was worse than yesterday and felt twice as cold. Hand held high to shield his eyes, Eric walked the perimeter of the hotel grounds to stretch his legs before boarding the train. He passed army personnel, DSD workers, Black Aquila staff and hotel workers, all rushing in and out of the storm. Brutus stood on the hotel steps smoking a cheap cigar, headphones in, head bobbing, the wind playing with his coat. The cold did not seem to bother him one iota.

He pulled his headphones free. ‘Alright?’ The cigar wobbled.

‘A little nippy.’

He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘You get used to it, mate.’

‘We almost ready to go?’

Brutus pulled the cigar from his mouth. ‘I’ll finish this then we’ll jump on board. The train’ll take us to The Grotto. We’ll be slap bang in the middle of it all then.’

‘I bumped into a friend of yours last night. Said you went way back.’

He took a long drag. ‘Oh yeah? Who?’

‘Andor Toth. He’s from Hungary or Romania, somewhere like that.’

‘Never heard of him.’ His relaxed manner vanished.

‘Said you two go way back.’

Brutus flicked the stub of the cigar off into the snow. ‘Never heard of him. Let’s go get this over with. This snow is pissing me off now.’

Something did not add up. Eric knew not to push. Brutus was likely to give him a bloody nose rather than answer a question he thought he had already replied to. He gave another look out to the snow. The snow was pissing him off, too.

Eric’s thermal coat was stifling in the room. A specially altered tactical vest fit snugly over the coat, and a radio was strapped to a front pocket. At his hip, a stun-rod hung from a belt. He’d flipped the switch a couple of times, watching the tip light up and crackle. He held one of the 12-bore shotguns. It felt both right and wrong to have it in his hand. Right because he felt most comfortable and safe with the weapon, wrong because he was standing on British soil.

‘Lost in thought again? Thinking of home?’ Ben Williamson stepped up.

‘Thinking of what’s to come.’

‘I’ll be with you every step of the way. You need me, you use that radio. Everything okay with the plan?’

Eric nodded. ‘We get to The Grotto, leave enough men behind to secure the area, and then move to the hospital with the trucks. Would’ve been easier if they choppered us in.’

Williamson tapped at an ear. ‘The noise. Makes it more dangerous.’

‘Do you know Andor Toth?’

‘Works for the DSD. Met him when we arrived in Aberdeen.’

‘Would Brutus know him?’

‘Doubt it. Why?’

‘No reason. Just something that was bothering me.’

‘You’ve got a bad feeling?’

Eric chuckled. ‘I always do, especially before I head out into who knows what. I’d better get going.’

‘Take care out there. If something doesn’t feel right, you tell me.’

Eric pumped the shotgun for the third time, checking the chamber was still empty. He walked out into the snow, towards the train.

***

With no movement or noise to send them into their frenzy, they milled about in the street like a swarm of bees. Magarth watched, on his knees, hidden by the curtains. He shivered a mixture of cold and fear.

Upstairs, Liam cried while Terri whispered, doing her best to hush the young child. Gemma and Stacey’s muted voices came from the kitchen as they prepared a basic breakfast for everyone. The night had been quiet, no further interruptions.

‘Still the same?’ asked Gemma.

‘Yeah, still there. I don’t know where they all came from.’

‘The sooner we’re out of here the better.’

‘What about Stacey?’

‘Don’t know. She feels safe here and doesn’t want to risk the streets.’

***

The window slightly ajar, Gemma sat on the rim of the bath watching the stumbling group. It was difficult to count the numbers. They constantly circled and weaved like a slow dance, a crazy nonsensical dance, but she could swear more had joined. Through her camera, she saw the people they used to be, like a memory, something she did not think they could ever return to.

She focused on one; a male, perhaps middle aged, his tracksuit filthy and torn at both sleeves. He carried a brown teddy bear, a child’s source of security. A soft knock came at the door.

‘Gemma?’

Stacey stood at the doorway, her hair in need of brushing. Her cheeks were blotchy and beads of perspiration clung to her upper lip. She walked to the mirror. ‘Jesus, look at me. I’m a mess.’

‘We’ve been through a lot, Stace.’

‘And I feel weak.’

‘Weak?’

‘Think I’m coming down with something.’ Stacey sighed. ‘So I’ve decided. I can’t go with you to the hospital.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? I just told you!’ Her reply was short. She rubbed at her temples.

‘Are you okay, Stacey? Are you—’

‘Course I’m okay,’ she replied with another snap. ‘I don’t see what’s wrong with staying here. Those things out there terrify me. Here we have a door that locks, and Terri said she could use the company.’

‘I’m doing what I think is best.’

‘No, you’re doing what’s best for that!’ Stacey pushed a finger at the camera. ‘I know you want to make a career with this story, but I don’t. I’m happy with my job, happy being me, and more so, I like being alive.’

‘Stace—’

‘Don’t you
Stace
me! You and that creepy guy can go together. I’m staying.’ Stacey stormed from the room.

Magarth appeared at the door.

‘You’re crying.’

Gemma’s thoughts remained with Stacey for a moment. Stacey had changed. Had they all changed? This place, this situation was bound to cause friction. Or was it something else? She touched a finger to her eye. Magarth was right. She caught a tear. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘She’d probably slow us down anyway. Listen, I’ve got an idea. Follow me.’

Liam’s toys and nappies had been flung across Terri’s bed covers. Magarth pulled the blinds aside enough for them both to see out.

‘Out there, through all the gardens, we could make it through there. If we’re quiet, we can do it.’

The gardens were large, most with high fences. The plan seemed easy standing on the first floor looking down. ‘What happens if the houses are full of infected?’

‘If we’re quiet they won’t notice us, and the snow will keep us hidden. We can do this.’ He looked directly into her eyes.