Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City (20 page)

‘I don’t know.’

‘Think of it like this, the sooner we get to the hospital—’

‘The sooner you can get home.’

‘I was going to say, the sooner we can send help back here for Terri and Stacey.’ Magarth waved away the ensuing pause as if it was an apology. ‘So, will we go? Soon?’

‘Yes. We’ll go. Soon.’
The sooner the better.

***

The early morning scene rolled past the train window. Outside was encased in a wintry grip. There wasn’t much conversation on board. The rhythmic rocking of train wheels on the tracks, and the gentle buzz of music from earphones sounded a distant song. While none of the men of Black Aquila said it, Eric knew they were uneasy. Uneasy with walking into such a strange and unique situation. If Martin was still alive, he would have had something to say, something that would have raised some laughter, put minds at ease. Martin would be missed. Martin was missed. The empty seat next to Eric brought the feeling of loss, yet again.

The train slipped past lines of homes, all dirty, small and poorly kept. Some had lights in the window, some had Christmas decorations, and others were dark, seemingly empty. Roads were bereft of traffic. Nobody went about the city, braving the weather, or the infected.

Brutus sat halfway down the carriage, earphones in, head bopping to music, resting against the stack of heavy-duty packs. A tablet computer sat on his lap, and he casually dragged a finger across the screen. A smile broke through his beard. Something about Brutus perturbed Eric. The train rocked. Eric jerked forward on his seat. Thick banks of snow had accumulated on the tracks and the train needed to force a passage through. Brutus slipped his tablet into a plastic sleeve and pushed it into the recesses of his coat. He looked over at Eric, still smiling.

A shiver crawled up his spine that had little to do with the temperature.

***

Gemma walked into the room, wrapped up, ready to face the elements. Magarth stood nervously at the back door. A pan of water boiled on the hob while Terri rocked an almost-asleep Liam in her arms.

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘Almost.’ Gemma pulled a long kitchen knife from the block on the bench, turned it in her hand, and ran a cautious finger over the blade.

‘What do you think you’re doing with that?’

‘Giving myself a chance. I’ve seen what they can do.’

‘Take it,’ said Terri.

Gemma saw Magarth’s hand move to the taser at his belt. An image of him zapping himself in the nuts popped into Gemma’s mind. She would have laughed if the next few hours did not hold the potential to be so terrifying.

‘You have yours, and now I have mine.’ She slid the knife into one of her leather boots, leaving the handle within easy reach, and then pulled at the camera strap, adjusting it around her neck.

‘It was nice to meet you both,’ said Terri. ‘I’ll look after Stacey. She’s pretty shaken up.’

Gemma took a step closer to Terri. ‘If anything goes wrong—’

‘We’ll be fine.’

‘I … I wish you luck.’

‘No, I wish you luck, but if you come back here, I won’t let you in. You’ll have to find somewhere else. I’ve got to think of Liam. Once the door is locked, it’s locked for good.’

They opened the door. The garden was quiet, the laying snow pristine and untouched.

‘Let’s do this,’ she said.

The door locked behind them.

Chapter 14

Dark Days Ahead

‘Time to go to work,’ someone shouted.

Eric slipped his weapon over his shoulder on its sling. The train doors opened to the sounds of electronic beeping. A wave of cold air rushed in. A slow procession of men alighted, Eric included, nothing to say, just the details of the mission swirling in their heads.

The train had stopped short of the station. Eric knew they were about to step into Union Terrace Gardens, sunken and just off the city’s main street. A temporary platform constructed from scaffolding allowed them to leave the train. The steel rang with the pounding of boots. The whole construction shook under the passing of men.

Eric buttoned his coat high, and pulled on his hat, covering the tops of his ears. The winter ate through to his bones. He clambered over a small concrete wall, some of the iron railings missing, sawed away to allow easy access from the train to the gardens. Not so long ago children would have played here, dogs would have chased flying snowballs. The gardens were transformed into a military staging area. Soldiers moved about, some heading up the steps to the street, others passed the Black Aquila men into the recesses of the waiting tunnel under the city. Floodlights kept the gardens lit.

‘Head to The Grotto,’ shouted Eric, and pointed to the steps.

The shout was taken up and the men of Black Aquila made for the steps. Eric trotted to the lead. The marched compacted the snow into an icy path. Some stumbled. It did not matter what time of day or night, the city seemed cursed to suffer under a monumentally thick blanket of snow.

He knew the way. Toth had made sure to show him stills of every part of The Grotto. Everything looked familiar, yet different. Ahead, the imposing buildings of His Majesty’s Theatre, an old building with a newly built glass annex on the side, and the Central Library looking untouched by modernism. Both buildings relied heavily on granite, the grey stone fitting the day; sombre. To his left, a statue stood on a rocky plinth, a statue of William Wallace, sword in one hand, the other raised. To his right, and further down the road, a sandbag wall stretched the length of the road.

‘Black Aquila. Good,’ said a man with a furry hood. Only the hint of a nose and mouth escaped the confines a scarf. He pointed to the theatre. ‘Store your equipment in there. Billet your men in the library.’

‘Andor Toth,’ said Eric. ‘Why is it wherever I go, you seem to be there?’

‘My coat buttons over many responsibilities, Eric Mann.’

Eric turned to look for Brutus in the throng of his arriving company. He was nowhere to be seen. ‘Your friend Brutus is here somewhere.’

Toth was quick to disregard the mention of Brutus. ‘Many people are here. I need you to establish your areas of control.’ He pulled out a tablet computer and brought up a strategic map. ‘Your men need to relieve the soldiers at the barricades.’ He touched five positions on the map, each immediately blossomed to red. ‘Begin a roving patrol along the tracks to keep them clear. Select who is to go to the hospital. I want them dispatched within the hour.’

Toth disappeared into the theatre.

Cameron Carter, an experienced Black Aquila operator, nudged Eric. ‘Who was that?’

Eric turned to the former Royal Marine. ‘Someone who makes me think we’re in for a load of trouble.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing. Get the men to unload. We’re staying in the library.’

Eric walked over to the barricades, the snow becoming deeper as he approached. The road bridged over another road below. Two soldiers stood at the barricade, one with a radio in hand, the other with binoculars. He stood on the firing step and rested his arms on the top. Over the wall, the city was empty. It looked as if everyone in the city had left, allowing winter to have its way.

‘Ever seen a city like this before?’ Carter was back by his side. They served together in Iraq three times. Martin was a mutual friend. While he may have been close to an age when an easier job would have appealed to the normal man, Carter would die on the job rather than find civilian employment.

‘No, it’s the strangest thing. I’ve never seen snow this bad, either.’

‘I trained up in The Highlands. I’ve slogged through snow like this, but in the hills and glens, not a major city. There’s just nobody around to clear the snow.’

The noise of men and machines stirred behind them, but beyond the barricade, everything was peaceful. It was a calm that lured the unwary into a sense of security. Eric was not silly enough to fall for the Christmas card scene. Out in the snow, lost in the city, something terrible waited.

‘What do you make of all this?’

If Martin was there, Eric would have admitted to feeling fear, but he could not show weakness, not even to Carter, a comrade of many years. ‘It’s like nothing we’ve been through before, but it’s a job. We’ll get it done. Just look out for each other and we’ll be fine.’

‘Something’s up. They’ve got the army here, yet they need us.’

‘At the first sign of trouble, I’ll be calling it in.’

Carter’s voice dropped to a near whisper. ‘Tell me. Do you hate them, hate them for what they did to you in Iraq?’

‘The Iraqi people?’ Eric did not look to Carter. ‘I don’t hate them, or even blame them. We were in their country, trying to put it back together. I hate that good men died, but hate them, no.’

‘Sorry. It’s none of my business.’

‘Have you seen Brutus?’

‘Saw him on the train, but not since.’

‘Keep an eye on him for me.’

‘What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing. It’s just a feeling.’

***

Dr. Eugene Holden sat at a computer terminal, headset on, waiting to be of some use. So far, the morning produced a lot of updates, casualty lists, and new red dots on the map indicating contacts between the military and the infected. He was consulted occasionally, and ignored frequently. He kept his ears pricked and overheard much he would not have otherwise been privy to. The army was using live fire against Stage Three infected. In an age when every smart phone boasted a camera, surely the killings couldn’t be kept from the outside world and media much longer.

He stifled a yawn, and it wasn’t from boredom. He was genuinely exhausted.

The map on the computer screen glowed with more red dots, emanating mainly from the hospital and the DSD building. It was the progress of the infected from the epicentre. The general consensus was that either there had been a spike of infections at the hospital, or that containment was breached at the DSD building.

The smell of coffee hung in the room. Dr. Holden brought up the latest situation reports. A multinational European naval force was assembling to complete the blockade of the city. Royal Navy assets were already operating off the coast. The Royal Air Force flew reconnaissance flights. Roving patrols through the countryside on the outskirts of the city had intercepted desperate groups trying to leave. Arrests. Deaths. More infected discovered. It all made for depressing reading.

‘Dr. Holden. The Black Aquila mission will be commencing within the hour,’ said a smiling woman in fatigues. ‘If you’ll follow me.’

Dr. Holden’s knees cracked as he stood. Black Aquila would be the closest to the hospital. If Magarth was still alive, they would be the ones to find him. He hoped Eric remembered his plea.

***

When morning came with no rescue, the mood on the ward toppled further. Patients burrowed between the starched sheets of their beds, and remained as mute as the TVs they watched. Their care continued in a mechanical fashion. Some nervously continued to try their phones over and again knowing it futile. PC Galloway positioned himself on a chair before the door under assault. He looked like a security guard in an art gallery, but the art he watched over trembled with each attack on the door. The monsters were busy. The door rocked and bulged. A hissing breath sounded from the other side. He did not know how many were trying to get to him, but he guessed many. One thing he did know, the door would not hold another day, let alone another night.

‘I’ll be back,’ he whispered to the faceless assailants.

PC Galloway returned to his room. Jane knelt on the floor, a bed sheet spread out before her, a thick black marker in her hand.

‘It’s a sign,’ she explained. ‘I thought we could hang it from the window. What do you think?’

‘What does it say?’

‘Help. Alive inside. If the army’s out there, they’ll see it. I’m going to weight the bottom so it doesn’t curl in the wind.’

‘Great idea.’ He knew it important to encourage positivity, and well, the sign just might work. ‘The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is to have a shower.’

Jane turned with a wry smile and sniffed at the air. ‘I was going to insist.’

***

Gemma sat on a lawnmower, hunched over and shivering. Her breath misted. Magarth knelt by the shed door, his ear pressed against a wooden panel.

‘How much longer?’ she whispered.

‘Once we’re sure they’re gone.’

Gemma checked her watch. ‘The dog stopped barking an hour ago.’

‘They probably ripped the dog apart.’ He searched through his rucksack for the umpteenth time.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Pills.’

‘For what?’

‘They calm me.’

‘Calm you?’

‘Yeah, they calm me. I think I left my supply elsewhere, but hoping one may have got stuck in the seams or something.’

‘Why don’t you turn the bag upside down?’

‘I already have, twice.’

‘I know.’

She wanted to offer to walk out into the middle of the street, attract mayhem, be chased by those monsters, and head to a store to buy him some pills. He was never calm, and he was a pain about it. Instead, she wiggled her shoulders, willing warmth to return to her muscles. She was sure Terri’s house was only a few gardens behind them. That’s how slow their progress was. ‘I think we can go.’

‘I say when we go, okay?’

More times than he had searched his rucksack, Gemma had checked the area from a small window. The yard was quiet, empty, no movement to be seen. No noise from neighbouring yards. It was as safe as it was ever going to get, and who was he to give orders? ‘No. It’s not okay. I’m not sitting here another second.’

Gemma slowly opened the door.

‘Don’t,’ said Magarth.

‘Shut up,’ she threw back.

The snow-covered garden was empty. Magarth followed her out. She knew he would.

‘This is stupid.’

‘It’s sensible.’

‘Don’t put us both at risk just ’cause you’re bored.’

‘Go chew on a zombie’s hide, Tim. I’m heading to the hospital. You coming?’

***

Three trucks pulled up, each at least a decade old with canvas covering the flatbeds. Eric knew the journey would not be comfortable. Two military Snatch Land Rovers parked close by and six soldiers armed with LA-80s looked on attentively. The six would travel with the Black Aquila convoy, and the rest would come from another part of the city and rendezvous at the hospital.

‘That’s it,’ announced Carter, ‘we’re ready as we’ll ever be.’

It wasn’t an ideal situation, taking half his strength, but more men were needed to secure The Grotto. ‘Has Brutus showed up?’

‘No.’

Eric stepped to the wall that overlooked the gardens below. Two Black Aquila operatives struggled with a figure. Five US Rangers raced out with M4s levelled. They were part of the special containment detail. Eric was sure Ben Williamson said only British military personnel would be on the ground. Things change.

Carter clamoured into the first truck. Eric turned to join him when Toth approached, snow crunching under his feet.

‘Good, right on time,’ said Toth, the hood of his coat now down, and scarf wound around his neck. ‘Best get moving. Time’s ticking away.’

Eric pulled himself into the cabin and slapped the dashboard twice. ‘Let’s go.’

The driver switched on the engine. The vehicles were white, good camouflage for today. The Snatch led the convoy. Eric’s truck slipped behind followed by the other two. The second army vehicle took up the rear. The whole situation reminded him of Iraq, before his capture. Taking one final look in the mirror, he spotted a lone figure leaping into the rear of the last truck. Brutus.

Eric fit his radio earpiece into place. Chatter between operatives was minimal. So far, the city seemed quiet. Several areas were without power, and a few buildings smouldered unchecked. They manoeuvred into another lane, avoiding abandoned cars.

The radio came alive.

‘Mr. Mann, this is Dr. Holden. We met this morning.’

‘What can I do for you, Doctor?’

‘How are things in the city?’

‘Quiet.’