Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Winkless, Lance

  The bloody door is locked. I’d completely forgotten, Stan has locked it; shit, where are my keys? I can’t remember. They must be either in the kitchen, in my office or Sir Malcolm’s office, but I didn’t have them when I got to Heathrow. They could be in the lounge area somewhere—I just can’t remember.

  I haven’t got the time or the inclination to go and hunt for them, so I decide to take a gamble. I replace the two chairs to block the door, move back and aim the M4 at the door frame where the lock will be embedded. The silencer does its job as the M4 spits a bullet out. The wooden frame disintegrates where it hits. Chippings and splinters fly into the air like confetti, the cracking sound short-lived. I check the damage without moving, waiting to see if there is a reaction from beyond the door. There is no reaction and metal glints at me from within the door frame. Lowering the M4, I move forward and try the door again. It moves slightly but gets caught in more splintered wood. I give it a quick fast tug, and the wood gives way and the door comes free.

  Millimetres at a time, I ease the door open, constantly listening at the widening gap for any noise, but there isn’t any. The gap widens until it is big enough for me to slip through. I listen one last time before my body goes through the gap. Behind me, my left hand eases the door closed, without a sound.

  Darkness closes in around me as quickly as my fear rises. The feeble light coming through the glass panel in the door behind me does nothing to illuminate the area directly in front of me, never mind the stairs that fall away on my left. Silence seems to echo in my ears, and it is the only thing stopping me from panicking. No noise equals no movement, so nothing is coming to attack me, I assure myself.

  Satisfied no Rabids are about to attack, I take another necessary risk and turn on the torch attached to my M4. As I stand in the corner, my rifle raised, I’m ready to push the door back open and retreat as the torch illuminates the top of the stairs. Again, nothing happens, no new noises rise up from below and I wonder if the Rabids were ever in this stairwell.

  I take a step forward to the stairs proper, the light from the torch following my aim, which turns down to the first flight of steps. My finger hovers over the trigger ready to fire but the steps are clear. I move my aim over the top of the handrail on the left, shining the light down firstly to the next flight of steps, which are also clear. I move the beam of light around, looking down the whole stairwell. My view is restricted as the flights cover each other but no new noises sound and no Rabids jump out. I’m not sure how these creatures react to light so I’m not going to get complacent. I will descend methodically, pausing at each level’s door to revaluate and using the door if a quick exit is needed.

  My aim comes back down and reverts to the steps in front of me. The light shines off the steps and I notice debris on them. Dirt and dust litter the stairs here and there, and it can mean only one thing. Every inch of the Orion building is kept spotless, including the stairwells. Rabids have been on these stairs, I am sure of it. I climb down slowly but surely, even more warily now, the M4 showing me the way. I arrive at the bottom of the first flight of steps and into no-man’s-land; there is no door here for a quick exit if I need it. I don’t rush, but I don’t delay leaving this area either. I scan the area below and start to descend to the next level which has the door to floor six.

  Not wanting to see beyond the door to floor six in case any of the horrors that happened down here are visible, I have to force myself. It is too big of a risk to just ignore it and not to check for threats. Firstly, I make sure the area of stairs around the door is clear and then I slowly peer through the panel of glass in the door. My view is very restricted through the narrow panel but unfortunately, it is enough to give me an idea of the terror. Debris litters the area of the floor I can see and in amongst the debris are mangled unrecognisable human body parts. Sadness and nausea rise in me as I look. The far wall is singed from the searing heat and peppered with shrapnel from one of the grenade explosions we heard go off while we stood above, listening helplessly as the carnage was unfolding. At the very edge of the visible area, is what looks like a ball and I have to strain to see properly what it is. I am nearly sick when my brain works out and registers what I am looking at.

  Jill’s severed head is lying on its side in amongst the debris, looking in this direction. Her eyes stare wide into oblivion, the skin of her face next to the floor burnt black. I have to quickly look away before I am physically sick, panting uncontrollably as if I’m having a panic attack. I’m at risk of losing it completely, my body trembles and I start to see stars in the darkness. Control your breathing, I tell myself, but it is easier said than done. I’ve seen it so many times in my past, in and around the battlefield, soldiers losing the plot. Good, solid, reliable soldiers who were joking around only the day before. Ones that you couldn’t imagine breaking are suddenly overwhelmed by the exhaustion and horrors of it all and instantly snap. I was never immune to it, but I always managed to square it away in my head; maybe that’s why it haunts my dreams so badly of late? I have never been this close to snapping in the field before, but I’m not the same man I used to be.

  Using the techniques I’ve learnt over the years, gradually my breathing slows and my heart rate comes under control. Both my body and mind are fragile, that much is plain. I have to accept it and deal with it; I’ve no choice, as there is nowhere to hide and recover properly right now.

  To push forward, one foot at a time, is my only option. Floor six is clear of targets, my rifle comes up and I recheck my path down before continuing.

  The rest of the floors look as if I’ve come into work in a deserted building on a Sunday. If Rabids are on those floors, I didn’t see them through the narrow glass panels in the doors. That doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and I focus my concentration up as well as down as I descend.

  Only two more floors to go, I think as I leave the door to floor two behind. Halfway down the next flight of steps, shock and terror grip me. I go to retreat and nearly fall backwards, up the stairs. I catch myself and manage to refocus the aim of my wayward M4 ready to pull the trigger. Caught in the beam of the M4’s light, a female Rabid stands in the corner of the no-man’s-land, its black eyes staring at me. My peripheral vision looks for others, I don’t see any. The trembling of my body races in time with my heart rate. I manage to keep it together though, just. Its mouth opens slightly to make a chilling low groan in my direction, the heinous sound rising from beneath its long straight hair that hangs around its grey face. I aim, ready for its attack. No attack comes though, it just stands there staring straight at me, groaning. The wretched creature stinks to high heaven, and I can smell it, even from where I am. Why doesn’t it attack? Is it injured? Not that I can see. I almost feel sorry for it as my finger squeezes the trigger on the M4 and I shoot it, straight through its forehead. The Rabid drops like a sack of spuds into a pile on the floor, its groaning noise instantly cut off.

  My confusion over the Rabid’s behaviour is overridden by my reaffirmed concentration of looking for other Rabids that may be lurking in the shadows, ready to attack. Holding my breath as I step around the corpse to save me from the stench, the light from my M4 searches every corner as I proceed, eager to leave the dark stairwell behind.

  I can see nothing of use through the panel in the door of floor one, it only shows me a blind corner of the corridor. Rabids are certain to be somewhere on that floor; it is the floor they broke in through the windows when the building was compromised. Grief for lost friends wells up, as does relief. I was so close to not making it off that floor when they broke through. It was Dan who arrived just in time to save me, a debt I will never have the chance to repay.

  I take the last two flights down extra carefully, feeling sure that Rabids will be waiting down at the bottom. To my surprise, it is clear and the exit to the ground floor awaits. That is the easy part done, I remind myself as I go to see what I can through the glass panel. As soon as I exit, I am going to be out in the open spaces of the buildin
g proper, without anyone to cover my back.

  Somehow, I’ve got to exit the stairwell, move down the corridor and get through the door into the storeroom. The door will be open because its electronic lock will have failed, along with the building's power. There is another problem however, in our wisdom, Dan and I parked one of the trollies, loaded with arms in front of the doors of the storeroom when we brought it up from the armoury. I’m going to have to move it before I can get through the doors. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t be a problem, I could just take off the brakes and wheel it out of the way. That type of problem is the last thing I need right now. It could start drawing unwanted attention and the delay could prove fatal. Even so, only if there is a minimal risk I will wheel the trolley into the storeroom with me. I need to restock with ammo for one, and a few grenades wouldn’t go amiss either.

  Again, the view out of the panel is very limited and doesn’t show me much. I’ve no choice but to push the door open and hope Rabids aren’t lurking nearby. Gently, I start to ease the door open with my foot, my hands poised, gripping the M4. The door’s well-oiled hinges are silent but the air piston in the door’s closing mechanism above the outside of the door makes a low hiss as it extends.

  With the gap almost big enough for me to get through, I stop and listen for any sign of movement in the corridor. No noise comes so I peer out of the gap and down the corridor, which is the direction I need to go. The corridor is clear, and I can see the edge of the trolley protruding out, where it is parked in the alcove of the entrance to the storeroom. Swivelling my foot whilst keeping it against the door, I turn to look through the panel in the door to get a view of the other end of the corridor. The short run behind which goes nowhere and is a dead-end is clear also. Carefully, I open the gap slightly more and slip out into the corridor, my left hand stopping the door closing too quickly behind me.

  Out, I double-check my rear and then hugging the left side wall, I stalk down the few meters to the end of the corridor behind my rifle. Just to my right now is the entrance to the storeroom with the trolley blocking the doors. Around the corner on my left is the longer corridor that leads up to the main entrance to the building and the reception area. I get my breathing under control before I attempt to look around that corner. Hopefully, when I get into the storeroom, I will be able to rest-up. My legs are waning, and my arms are struggling to cope with the weight of the M4.

  Cursing myself for thinking too far ahead, I get my head back to the present and the immediate challenge ahead. Pulling the M4 up and in, parallel with my body, my head eases over so that I can get a look around the corner. The enclosed corridor starts to come into view, the bright white walls and ceiling reflecting the little light there is. As my view increases, I start to see debris sprinkled across the floor. Most of the debris is shattered glass and rubble and as my sight focuses farther along, up to the reception area, the clutter on the floor worsens. My heart jumps as two Rabids come into view.

  The two creatures appear as dark shadows, the dim light coming from above and behind them from the tall walls of windows in the open area of the first floor. Both of the creatures are in a state of stasis. They barely move, standing still as they wait for new prey to awaken them. I don’t plan to be on their breakfast menu and reposition myself to bring the M4 to bear, pointing the rifle down the corridor at them.

  Before I take a shot, I use the sight of the rifle to scan the reception area closer, checking for other Rabids that could be hidden in the dark patches where the light fails to penetrate. I can see only the initial two targets and focus the sight on the Rabid that is slightly further away. This Rabid is considerably bigger than the second nearer one. This Rabid is not facing this way; it is turned facing the stairs leading up to the first floor, that is out of my field of vision. My rifle travels to the right to get the other Rabid in its sights.

  My heart stops in sheer panic and fear when the rifle's sight fixes on the target. The Rabid is awake and staring directly down the M4, its head tilted menacingly forward as its mouth begins to open. I can’t afford for it to make any sound, not even a groan. If it alerts the other Rabids that are sure to be covering the first floor, they will be swarming down this corridor in no time.

  The M4’s trigger depresses, and a bullet spits out. The shot muffled by the silencer screwed to the muzzle of the rifle. The Rabid’s head bursts open like a soggy old fruit, splattering brain and bone everywhere before it drops to the floor. I am taken aback by the eruption and struggle to understand why the head exploded. I can’t afford to dwell on it now, and my aim moves to the other Rabid but my second of delay is too long. The Rabid screeches a bone-chilling noise as it turns in my direction. It is moving already, so I flick the M4 to auto and fire, filling the Rabid’s neck and head with bullets; it drops. Sound enters the reception and travels down the corridor to me, the sound of Rabids on the move. Dropping the M4 to my chest, I push off from the wall. Moving across to the trolley as quickly as I can, my foot kicks off its brakes and I push. Straining against the heavy trolley and the doors behind, the trolley starts to move, pushing the doors open with it. A stampede has started, coming for me. The rumble of feet hitting the floor and screeches reverberate down the corridor, getting louder with each passing second. Adrenaline gives me strength that was lost to me moments before and fear drives me to push harder. The trolley picks up some more forward momentum, the doors hissing as they swing in, widening out. Rabids are into the reception; I hear them and feel them down there, racing forward behind me.

  “Move, you fucking bastard!” I shout at the trolley, desperate for it to listen. Amazingly it does, the doors straighten out, fully open and the trolley glides into the storeroom.

  Rabid noise is close, virtually on top of me. The trolley inside, the doors are free and start to swing back closed. I slip through between the trolley and the closing door, which isn’t hard as the doors are moving at a snail’s pace. Looking up, I see the swarm of beasts halfway down the corridor, their twisted faces riddled with ferocious hatred. They will burst the doors back open and tear me to pieces before the doors have even closed. I ram forward into the trolley, and it judders from the blow and jerks forward, hitting the closing doors. The pistons above hiss louder and the doors swing in quickly. I keep pushing, my eyes fixed on the lead Rabid at the threshold to the storeroom.

  The Rabid crashes into the doors, stopping their inward momentum instantly, its snarling head jutting through and jamming in the gap. The black mouth of the creature snaps its long teeth at me, rage burning in its evil eyes. My right hand closes around the Glock at my side and pulls the weapon up and over the top of the trolley. I fill the beast’s face with bullets, and it drops limp in the gap.

  I keep the pressure on the trolley with my shoulder and jam each foot down onto the trolley’s brakes. They help but they won’t stop the building pressure from the desperate Rabids pushing to get inside.

  My minds works like a well-oiled machine and I turn my back on the trolley, pushing against it for all I’m worth. I bend my knees so that I can reach one of the trolley’s lower drawers and I pull it open. Jackpot, a bevy of grenades show themselves in the drawer, alongside numerous ammo mags.

  I grab magazines and shove them into any available pouch in my body armour, two going into my back jeans pockets. Two grenades are shoved into my front jean pockets too; it is tight, but in they go. All the while I’m pushing back, but my knees are bending as the trolley gradually slides back from the Rabid’s force, even with the brakes on.

  With three more grenades in my hands, I check my exit route and then pull the pins. I slide back up and place two of the grenades on top of the trolley. The scene I see through the gap beyond the door is terrifying. Countless Rabids fill the corridor, baying for blood, ravenous to burst through. Releasing the grenades, the levers spring out. I have seconds to evacuate before they detonate.

  I’m running before the ejected grenade levers have settled, dropping the last grenade where I stoo
d. I can’t feel the pain that must be charging through my legs as I sprint for the fire exit on the other side of the storeroom. Adrenaline courses through me, carrying me and I welcome it as sure as a junkie welcomes the needle. The trolley’s wheels squeal against the floor as it is pushed inwards.

  I reach the fire exit as the two grenades explode. The shockwave from the explosion hits me and forces me forward. I hit the fire exit door, smashing into the door’s emergency release mechanism. The door flies out, taking me with it and suddenly I’m outside. Hot gas follows me out of the door from the explosion and manages to singe my hair. I whip around and slam the door closed, anticipating the secondary explosion of the grenade I dropped to the floor. I’m just in time, as the door slams shut, the second blast hits and is massive. I can tell, even from outside. The grenade I dropped to the floor takes the whole trolley with it, including all of the other grenades it was carrying. The fire exit door visibly bulges in its frame from the force of the blast. For a moment, I think it is going to shear free and explode out. It doesn’t, it holds in place to my relief, just. I’m not under any illusion that the two blasts will have killed all of the Rabids; they don’t die that easily and I don’t want them to see where I went. If they did and they come through the fire exit after me, that would be the end, I’m sure of it.

  I have to keep moving before the adrenaline wears off and my body starts to shut down. I’m on a path at the back of the Orion building. In front is the water of one of the Paddington Basins canals. Bodies still float in the water and some of those bodies still move. My only option is to go left, away from the building. Right is a dead end, with only more water.

  The small bridge crosses the canal at the end of the path on my left, and that’s where I go. A familiar ache starts to form in my legs, and walking is going to be very hard any time now. I’ve got to rest. Approaching the bridge, the span of which is across from me, I see a possible place to hold up for a while. There is a gap under the bridge, between it and the concrete bank of the canal. It’ll be tight but I’ll fit.