Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Winkless, Lance

  Chapter 11

  Lance Corporal Broad’s phone is still active as Winters takes it slowly away from his ear. The only sounds coming from it now are those of feeding, threatening to make Winters’ stomach burst through his throat. He is racked with guilt and shock by what he has just been listening to. The horrific deaths of two young men that he sent out on that mission.

  Winters goes dizzy; he has to quickly sit down in the nearest chair and take hold of his head in his hands before it falls off his shoulders and onto the floor.

  Winters knew what he was doing when he sent them off on the reconnaissance mission. He knew it was very high risk and still knows now that it had to be done, as there was no other way to be sure. That doesn’t make him feel any better about the order he dished out to the unsuspecting men only a short time ago. Broad had looked so young, he couldn’t have been more than in his mid-twenties and the private Winters saw him walk off with was even younger. His stomach somersaults again; it is going to happen, and he can’t hold it back.

  Winters manages to grab a bin from under the desk next to him, and puts it on the floor in front of his chair. His stomach lets go and Winters urges nothing but bile into the bin. His stomach contracts violently three times before he manages to bring it under control. He spits the last dregs out and closes his eyes for a moment.

  “Are you okay, Lieutenant?” a female voice asks from above him.

  “Yes, sorry,” Winters manages to say.

  “Don’t be sorry; aren’t you feeling well?”

  “I’ll be okay in a minute, thanks, just came over all dizzy.”

  “Can I get you some water?”

  “Yes, please,” Winters replies, his head still in his hands. Slowly, the blood returns to his head, the dizziness subsides, and his wits start to return. He has to report what he has just witnessed to Colonel Reed.

  “Here you go, Lieutenant,” the female voice says and Winters lets go of his head, sitting up in the chair.

  “Thank you,” Winters replies and looks up to see Sam holding out a small plastic cup of water for him. He feels his face flush with embarrassment.

  “Has it passed?” Sam asks with a look of concern etched across her face.

  “Yes, thank you, Sam. It’s not like me to do that,” Winters tells her as his foot pushes the bin back under the desk to try and hide the evidence.

  “What brought it on? Was it the phone call you were on? Have you had some bad news? Tell me if I’m being nosey, but I couldn’t help but notice you on the phone and it looked serious, judging by your face.”

  “Yes, it was serious, I’m afraid. I have to report in with the Colonel to tell him if you want to join me?”

  “Yes, okay, I’m at a bit of a loose end now that Major Rees has left. I should report back in with my superiors to be reassigned,” Sam tells him.

  “You will want to hear this first,” Winters says as he gets up to check to see where the Colonel is.

  “It sounds ominous,” Sam says as she starts to follow Winters.

  Colonel Reed is back at the front of the command room, standing looking at a blank screen. Winters assumes he is waiting for the drone footage of Terminal 4 to appear.

  “Colonel, I have new intel, Sir,” Winters announces as he walks up behind the Colonel.

  “Continue,” the Colonel orders without turning to look at him.

  “Sir, the two men I sent on reconnaissance to Terminal 4 are dead.”

  Colonel Reed now does turn to look at his assistant. His arms are folded across his chest and he has a stern look fixed to his face as he says, “Continue.”

  “Sir, they drove a vehicle down towards the building and the fire, as I ordered. About halfway there, they were attacked by multiple hostiles. The two men retreated and managed to make it back to the Terminal 5 area, but unfortunately, they were then overpowered and killed. Sir, the hostiles were people infected with the virus.”

  “How did they report back to you if they were killed, Lieutenant?”

  “Sir, I had an open phone line with one of the men for the whole contact. I listened to the whole thing. Sir, Terminal 4 is compromised; we now have infected directly outside this building and it is certain that more of the infected are spreading out to other parts of this base, Sir.”

  “Holy shit,” Colonel Reed growls to himself, his eyes bulging with a look of anger on his face. “Thank you, Lieutenant dismissed.”

  Sam looks over at Lieutenant Winters from the periphery, now understanding what had come over him. The phone call she had seen him on was that one. He had ordered two men outside to see what was going on and they were both killed. No wonder he had been sick.

  “What are they going to do now?” Sam asks as Winters comes away.

  “They will activate one of the contingencies in place. I won’t know until they have decided,” Winters replies as he watches Colonel Reed already picking up a phone with an urgent look on his face.

  “That sounds ominous,” Sam says.

  “It definitely won’t be good news.” And then Winters has a thought. “Come with me,” he tells Sam.

  Winters heads for the exit of the command room at a quick pace. Sam follows his exit, struggling to keep up with him, confused at what is suddenly so urgent that it involves her?

  Sam follows him over to the conference room where they had come from. She assumes he is looking for Major Rees. The room is abandoned though, and all the files have gone. Only the computers and printers remain, that now sit idle.

  Winters turns back towards the wide corridor. “Come on,” he tells Sam. This time, he breaks into a jog as he goes down the long corridor, obviously hoping to catch the Major before he leaves. Sam finds it easier to keep up with him at jogging pace but is at a loss, as to what is going on.

  They reach the end of the corridor and turn right into the lift area just in time to see Major Rees and another soldier about to go through the open lift doors.

  “Major!” Winters shouts.

  Major Rees, startled, turns to look at Lieutenant Winters and Sam rushing towards him. He has a sudden horrible feeling that something else has gone wrong.

  “What is it now?” Rees asks quite abruptly.

  “Sir,” Winters starts, slightly out of breath. “I thought it would be a good idea if you took Sam with you, Sir. She is familiar with the data and would be an asset in continuing to analyse it, Sir.”

  Major Rees immediately suspects that Winters’ reasoning for making his suggestion isn’t entirely as stated. He suspects the real motive is getting her out of the danger zone more than anything. The suggestion isn’t without its merits, however. Sam has proved herself to be an excellent analyst and she is indeed already familiar with the data.

  Sam is taken aback by the Lieutenant’s suggestion; she hadn’t considered it. She had assumed she was here for the long haul, something she really doesn’t fancy now things have taken a turn for the worse. It suddenly dawns on her that that is the reason Lieutenant Winters is doing this, to get her out. She has seen the way he looks at her and her feelings grow for him because of his unselfish act.

  “A very good idea, Lieutenant,” Major Rees agrees.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Are you in agreement, Sam?” Rees asks.

  “I hadn’t thought of it, Major. I am supposed to be reporting back to my superiors. I haven’t been cleared to leave.”

  “I will sort that, Sam, but you will have to go now. Major Rees cannot be delayed,” Winters tells her.

  “But I haven’t got my belongings?”

  “Is there anything important in them?”

  “Not really. My phone charger and coat. I have my wallet and ID card,” Sam says, slightly embarrassed by their insignificance.

  “You will have to leave them. You can get new ones,” Winters tells her.

  “Yes, you’re right, silly of me.”

  “Shall we then?” Major Rees says.

  “Can you give me one minute with the Lieutenant pleas
e, Major?”

  Major Rees looks at the two of them before he and the other soldier go into the lift. “I will hold the door for you.”

  As Major Rees disappears into the lift, Sam turns to Winters. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “There is no need to thank me, Sam. It just makes sense for you to carry on the work with the Major,” Winters tells her, not wanting a fuss.

  “I don’t even know your name, Lieutenant?”

  “It’s Robert.”

  “Robert, I am not bragging but I am one of the top analysts at GCHQ, so I know how to read things. I know when someone is watching out for me and the reasons why. I’ve seen the way you have been looking at me.”

  Winters feels himself blush with embarrassment. He has been found out, which is not something he is used to, especially in this type of situation. To make matters worse, he tries again to hide his real motives by starting to say something too ridiculous to deflect, but Sam is having none of it.

  “Robert,” she says, placing her hand on his shoulder. “There is no need to be embarrassed. I’ve had my eye on you too and if things were different, maybe we could have explored it. It’s a shame; perhaps we will see each other again, so in the meantime please accept my thanks for getting me out of here, okay?”

  “Yes okay. You have caught me. I do hope we see each other again, but you had better go. The Major is waiting. Good Luck, Sam,” Winters tells her.

  “You too and try not to feel too bad for the orders you gave out; it had to be done.” Sam leans in and kisses his cheek. “Goodbye, Robert and good luck.”

  “Goodbye, Sam.”

  Sam turns for the lift and Winters watches her all the way, her forthrightness making him even more attracted to her. She turns back to look at him as she enters the lift, smiles and is gone. Winters hears the lift doors close, but he doesn’t move for a moment as he wonders if he will see her again. It’s just his luck that he actually finds someone he is interested in and she is out of reach. He is sure he made the right choice to get her out while he could. However, anything could happen here now.

  Winters starts to make his way back up the corridor towards the command room. As he reaches into his pocket for his phone, he decides that it is quite possible he will see Sam again. There is a chance Colonel Reed will decide to evacuate, and Porton Down is an option to relocate to. He consoles himself with that.

  Josh feels his phone start to vibrate in his hand at the same time he sees the screen light up. At last, Lieutenant Winters is phoning him back.

  “Hello Sir, thanks for calling me back. We have been extremely nervous here, as you can imagine,” Josh says quickly into the phone, afraid that the Lieutenant will have to hang up for more important business at any time.

  “Hello, Josh. I’m not surprised; things have taken a bad turn. The base has been breached and infected are outside.”

  “How did that happen, Sir?”

  “One of the incoming helicopters was overrun. That is what caused all the explosions. We have infected outside this building as we speak,” Winters informs him.

  “Fucking hell, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t have that information yet Josh. I will try to keep you updated if I can.”

  “Is there any chance of getting us some transport to get us out of here, Sir?” Josh asks, trying to hide the desperation in his voice.

  “As soon as I can, I will, Josh, but it isn’t going to happen just at the moment. As I said, the infected are outside the building, and we need to find out how serious it is and what decisions are made before I can let you out there. I have also still got to figure a way to get Alice clearance.”

  “Aren’t we better off going now before it gets worse?”

  “Right now, we don’t know how many infected are out there, but they have just chased down and killed two men I sent out on reconnaissance. It’s too risky, so give me a bit of time, Josh, to get a handle on things, okay?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The disappointment in Josh’s voice is plain.

  “Thank you. Do you still have your weapons?”

  “Both Alice and I do, Sir.”

  “Good, see if you can find somewhere secure to wait for me to phone you again.”

  “How long will that be?” Josh asks.

  “As soon as I know how the land lies. Believe me, I want to get you all out.”

  “Yes, Sir. I know that and thanks.”

  “Okay, Josh, be ready for my call.”

  “I will be, Sir.”

  Josh looks at his phone screen and presses end call. He looks around to the four ladies that are all sitting looking expectantly at him. He is going to have to dash their hopes of a quick getaway. What is he supposed to tell them—that they have all got to find somewhere to hide again? They all know how badly that seems to end up. Josh can’t help but ask himself what his father would do.

  Chapter 13

  Wherever I am, as my consciousness starts to return, I forget. I only know that I’m not surrounded by the soft sheets and forgiving comfort of my bed at home. I know it because I’m slouched with hard surfaces below and behind me. Agony aches throughout my back which feels like it would shatter if I attempted to move. My bum is dead, paralysed by my position and pins and needles shoot up and down my legs as if shards of broken glass are swirling around in my veins.

  There is no sound that might help me distinguish my location—or is the throbbing pain in my head applying pressure on my brain to block it processing the sound waves as it stifles my reality?

  Something tugs on the tender skin on my cheek. I manage to turn my head an inch to try and move away from whatever cruelty is pulling at it. Moving only encourages their nasty game as the tugging increases, so I keep my head still.

  I am afraid to look, to see what it is that torments me. If I open my eyes and they see that I am awake, what else could they have in store for me? I have to look though; I can’t avoid it forever. My eyelids twitch and try to open but they are stuck together as if they have been glued shut. I try again, the skin of my eyelids straining to pull apart, threatening to tear the delicate skin. It is impossible; they won’t open—has the skin grown conjoined, to stop me from seeing? I submit and rest, conserving my energy, waiting to see what they have planned next.

  My right hand has hold of something, and my fingers move discretely around it, trying to discover what it is. The object is small and round, with a raised notch, a button. I press the button and my ears hear it click, proving that I am at least not deaf. The click rouses a memory, a memory of a torch I found on the floor, where I found a box too. Slowly, my mind starts to work again. The box contained syringes, syringes that I plunged into myself, to make me well again.

  The torch and box were on the floor of Sir Malcolm’s bathroom. Concentrating, I slowly start to remember my circumstances. The Rabid slashing at my face and scratching my cheek; the beast infecting me. Later, waking up dazed and confused like I am now and shut in Sir Malcolm’s bathroom, alone. Despite my visions and nightmares, I remember that I was alone, so what the hell is tugging at my cheek?

  Reality starts to gather in my mind, slowly, as my memory returns. The thought that I have been infected is hard to fathom, so why is my brain still working? My head moves unintentionally, and again something tugs at my cheek and wobbles. It takes some courage to lift my arm. I am still afraid, but have to find out what is toying with me. My hand raises and I ignore the shooting pain it causes. The hand feels for my cheek, it moves slowly, cautiously as if something might bite it. Gently, my fingers go in to touch but come into contact with something thin and round. My fingers take hold of the dangling syringe, the needle still embedded into the skin of my cheek, dried blood sealing it in. The body of the syringe is what has been tugging as it wobbled when my head moved. I pull at the syringe and at first, it resists, but then, with a twist, the needle pops free and I drop the syringe to the floor, hearing it clatter.

  My arm moves again, rising further as my hand feels for m
y eye nervously, to see why it won’t open. Instead of feeling soft skin, my fingertips brush against something hard and crusty. The rough substance has encased the lower portion of my eye and it feels like sleep in your eye, that you can get when waking in the morning. This is on another level though, more like a hardened scab that covers an old wound.

  I pick at the edge of the crust on the outside corner of my eye. My nail feels the edge of it start to slide under and lift away from the skin. It gets caught, however, my eyelashes welded into the hard substance and short of ripping my eyelashes out of the hard mucus, they’re stuck.

  My arms drop back down and into my lap. The agony of keeping it raised for the operation is too much. The solution to my dilemma is obvious; water, I need water to soften the hard crust and wash out my eyes.

  My head flops back, resting whilst I regroup and think some more. I have no idea how much time has passed since I was infected. Hours, days? I could have been unconscious for almost any length of time; my weakness tells me that much. If I have any thought of ever leaving this place, I can’t just sit here, rotting away. My eyes have already crusted over and my back feels like rigor mortis has set in. My legs and bum aren’t far behind my back and I have almost become accustomed to the pungent stink of faeces from below.

  Am I dead yet? I don’t think so; am I dying from the fucking virus—possibly? If I remain here festering, will I die? Definitely. Definitely, so do something, you useless piece of shit, I tell myself.

  You’re blind, decrepit and covered in shit, so what are you going to do? Think, man, how are you going to move forward?

  Water is the first thing I need; if I’m going to move forward, I have to be able to see. I need to clean my eyes so that I can open them. I remember, behind the box of syringes, a bottle of water stood on the floor. I concentrate my throbbing head to envisage where I saw the bottle. It was on my right, but it will be out of easy reach. The bottle was behind the box of syringes that I only just managed to stretch to retrieve. My body aches but the pain isn’t as severe as it was before, I don’t think. Perhaps I can stretch further this time; what choice have I got but to try?