A police representative confirmed that security forces had ceased trying to restrain and contain Carriers, altering their strategy to elimination. He skirted around the fact that rates of infection had soared, and was elusive regarding infection containment success in Sydney. The representative reiterated a need for civilians to remain at home and avoid contact with those infected, alluding to an imminent release of a state-wide plan of management within the next twelve hours.
As the report began to loop once more, Mark turned away, his mind processing the information. He knew it was true. After all, he’d seen it with his own eyes. Yet his mind continued to fight acceptance, as though holding out for confirmation of an elaborate joke of exceptionally black humour.
* * *
‘You’ve got be fucking kidding,’ Novak snarled into his radio set. ‘So to confirm, I am now charged with protection and evacuation of the university. With no expected support.’ He rubbed at closed eyes, taking a deep breath to get himself back under control. ‘And where exactly am I evacuating to? Fine,’ he sighed. ‘I accept. I’ll be awaiting further information if and when it comes to hand. Out.’
Novak clipped the radio set to his vest once more. A few officers were standing close by, eyebrows raised expectantly. Novak scratched at three-day-old stubble on his chin, collecting his thoughts. ‘Let’s call a general meeting; we need a group consensus on how to move forward. We’re on our own.’
Novak stood at the front of the room. Excluding a skeleton crew of sentries guarding the courtyard, everyone was present. The air was tense; rumour of their abandonment had rapidly circulated.
He held up his hand for silence. ‘The authorities have finally confirmed our suspicions. The Infected are no longer like us, they’ve lost everything that once made them human. They’re dead. But unfortunately for us, they don’t seem to know that.’
Murmuring broke out amongst the crowd, someone could be heard crying softly. Novak acknowledged the reaction to the bad news with a nod before continuing.
‘Help won’t come anytime soon, but we’ve done well on our own anyway. The next kernel of joy I get to share with you all, is that we’re now responsible for our own evacuation. Although I’m still waiting on a destination for extraction, when it comes through, I want our group ready to leave ASAP. We will, however, need a greater capability to defend ourselves once we’re in the open. Give me a show of hands ‒ who has defence force experience, police, or general firearms training?’
Mark and one other man raised a hand. Novak swore under his breath. Is that it? That gave him only ten police officers, limited ammunition, and possibly two other men he could depend on for help during the evacuation.
Novak waved them over. He grunted an acknowledgement to Mark before glaring at the new guy. ‘What’s your background?’
‘Army. I’m a captain, attached to the Sydney University Regiment. My name’s Will.’
‘There’s an army base on university grounds?’ Novak was clearly surprised.
‘Has been since before the First World War, but the Regiment only supports officer training for the Army Reserve now,’ Will said.
‘What weapons are kept on base?’ asked Novak. Maybe there was a small piece of good news amongst the shit.
‘There’s twenty Austeyr rifles in locked storage,’ he said reluctantly.
‘Ideally, I want more firepower to take on those bastards out there. If we make it to the Regiment buildings, can you access them?’
‘Only if they go into responsible hands. Those rifles can do more damage than any foot-dragging dead shit, and a hell of lot more quickly.’
Novak let a wolfish smile escape. Now they had a bloody chance. ‘You’ve got my word. Any fuck up that happens is on my head.’ He looked around the group. ‘I need people to accompany Will and me tonight. Who’s up for it?’
‘I’ll go. You’re going to need something to transport that number of rifles back, and I’ve got a ute nearby we can use for the job,’ Mark said.
Novak nodded, ‘Who else?’
Penny raised her hand.
‘Right, that’s sorted. We’ll wait until after dark, that gives us a few hours to prepare.’
Penny cleared her throat. ‘If we make much noise, we’re going to risk drawing another mass of Carriers towards us. What do you guys think about trying to leave guns out of the picture where possible? We’ve got nightsticks, but they’re not going to be all that good for puncturing a skull. Have any of you seen anything else we could use?’
Most of the group in the hall had dispersed, leaving the core group to plan their mission. A few however, had stayed to listen. One of these men interjected.
‘There’s construction work underway in the Nicholson museum at the south end of the Quad. The tradesmen have stored their tools on site – some of those might serve the purpose.’
Novak thanked him, and then turned to Mark. ‘Can you go and check it out, see what’s useable?’
Mark nodded and headed off with the man who introduced himself as they walked. Leon had worked as a curator in the small ancient history museum for the past five years. The museum was to the left of the entrance used by the police to first access the Quad. Subsequently, the pursuing Carriers had battered the doors in mindless rage. The bottom right hinge had burst free of the timber, while the top one showed signs of strain. Mark feared the door wouldn’t stand up to much more trauma. It would need reinforcement as soon as possible.
Passing through a glass door, the men entered the museum. Various items were displayed in the moon’s half-light, gifted through the windows on the external wall. Pieces of pottery, mosaics and statues made up the lion’s share of the museum artefacts. The curator led Mark to a screened-off section where a new display room was in mid construction. Sure enough, a large wheeled toolbox stood in the corner of the room.
‘What sort of tradie leaves their tools behind? Probably insured for more than their worth I guess,’ Mark said as he pulled the three crates of tools apart to see what was on offer.
‘Yeah, I thought they were pretty trusting as well. See anything that’ll work?’
Mark was looking for any tool that had a long handle and something sharp on the end. He smiled to himself as he found a few items that fit the bill. There were two long-handled mason’s hammers that were perfect. One end of the hammer was a small square shape, the other, a long sharp chisel that looked more suited as a medieval weapon as opposed to a modern-day tool. A half-metre pinch bar rounded out the haul, sufficient as a thrusting weapon or club at need.
‘These will do,’ Mark said, standing with his finds in hand.
On the way back out, something caught his eye. A full suit of Roman infantry armour hung on display, however, that wasn’t what pulled his attention. At the armour’s side stood a reinforced glass cabinet displaying the weaponry used by a typical legionnaire. A short sword with dual cutting edges and tapered, triangular tip was presented next to a simple leather scabbard. The Roman Gladius had been the primary killing tool of the empire’s soldiers for centuries. Designed as a thrusting weapon, the length of the sword was relatively short, only extending sixty-five centimetres from the tip to base of the grip. Two shallow grooves ran the length of the unadorned blade, and a simple wooden handle was fixed below.
Mark pointed it out. ‘I’ll be wanting that as well.’
‘Really?’ asked Leon, wincing. ‘That’s a specially commissioned item from an Italian sword smith. It’s the real deal and took me months to convince the board to pay for it. You sure the tools won’t be enough?’
Mark gave him a serious look. ‘The hammers are make-shift weapons, but that thing,’ he said, emphasizing his point, ‘was made for killing. If you want us to get you out of here, how about helping us do it.’
Leon grumbled to himself in annoyance, but left to find the cabinet’s key. A few minutes later, he returned and opened the door. Mark reached in and picked up the sword. It was perfectly balanced and lighter than expected. H
e strapped the leather scabbard onto his belt and threaded the blade home. Due to the simple leather exterior of the scabbard and wooden grip, most people would probably dismiss the weapon as a modern machete.
Hammers and pinch bar in hand, Mark returned to the Great Hall. He found the others hovering over a smart phone with a map of the university and surrounding suburbs displayed.
Novak waved him in closer to look at the screen. ‘This is where we need to go,’ he said, pointing out the Regiment buildings, located on City Road to the south of them. ‘Where’s your ute?’
‘Not far away, only fifty-odd metres from the Quad’s north entrance.’
‘Ok, we should circle around the outside of the university campus, avoid any noise that might draw more Carriers to this place. Will’s suggesting we make a noise diversion while we’re out there,’ Novak said. ‘Set some speakers up and leave them blaring – hopefully draw most of the Infected to it and away from here, thereby freeing up the area for when we need to break out with the whole group. What do you think?’
‘Sounds good to me. Here’s what I found,’ Mark said as he laid his finds on the table. Penny and Novak claimed a hammer each while Will took the pinch bar.
Time was moving on, the group agreed to break for some shut-eye prior to the evening mission. They’d leave at 8pm.
Georgie was waiting for Mark when he broke away from the group, a worried look on her face. ‘You’re not heading out with them tonight, are you?’
‘Yep, should be all right though. They know what they’re doing,’ he said to reassure her.
‘Isn’t there anyone else that can go?’
Mark felt a twinge of annoyance. ‘Georgie, you called me, and after your text the other night, I’m sure that was more to do with my ability to keep you safe than anything else. Well now I’m here, and these people also need my skills to give us all the best possible chance of escaping this prison.’
She flinched at the hard edge to his tone. ‘Ok, sorry. Just be safe, I’ll be waiting for you.’
He instantly regretted his lapse in control, and gave her an awkward hug. ‘It won’t take long if all goes well, I’ll be back before you know it.’
Penny was standing a short distance away, talking to her husband on mobile phone. They were still at home and safe. She let her husband know that they were awaiting a formal plan regarding evacuation. On receiving this, they could formulate their own plan to meet up as a family again. She made no comment on what she would be doing in the meantime.
Chapter Fourteen
Since getting the TV to work, the images displayed had gripped Harry’s attention. The scenes captured in Sydney defied belief. He’d caught the updated news from the Federal Quarantine Facility and seen the Prime Minister’s address. The nation’s leader had looked rattled; fingers that gripped the podium for support and an occasional vocal tremor betrayed his nerves and threatened confidence in his leadership. But none of that equalled the horror of live footage shot from the air above Sydney’s streets.
Walking dead crowded George Street, transforming the city centre into a third-world abattoir. Images shot by the news helicopter had been distressing enough, but disgustingly, the rival broadcaster sought to trump the level of horror, deploying a drone camera above an active scene of devastation in the suburb of Leichhardt. The drone had hovered nearby as a crowd of the Infected smashed through a glass restaurant front to attack a woman and child. As the lady was ripped through the window, a piece at a time, the broadcaster belatedly realised it had overstepped the mark and cut back to the news desk.
Harry switched off the television. He had already personally witnessed a Carrier in action, so didn’t need to be convinced of the horror. Pulling a cigarette from the crushed pack in his shirt pocket, he walked out to the front porch and lit up. His imagined worst-case scenario didn’t even come close to matching the reality. It was only dumb luck he left Sydney at the right time. One more day and... Well, it wasn’t worth considering.
So far, he hadn’t given thought to what his family would be thinking. His parents lived in Hobart, so there had been no need for concern at their safety. On the other hand, they were probably worried about him. Harry stubbed out the smoke on the deck with the toe of his boot then went inside to retrieve his phone from his bag. Sure enough, there was a list of missed calls from his parents.
He dialled his mum and on the second ring she picked up. Harry had to hold the phone away from his ear, as she gave him a mouthful of abuse for not calling earlier. Once she had settled down a little, Harry apologised. His lack of communication was a running sore point with his family. He rarely left his phone on, and when he did, it was usually switched to silent. During overseas contracts with MSF, he rarely checked email and was unreliable in reply. Harry knew it was poor form and only served to stress his mother, but for some reason, he let it happen.
His parents were safe at present. There hadn’t been any reported outbreaks in Tasmania, being the only state free of the mainland. The Tasmanian Premier had announced a self-imposed quarantine, barring any contact with the other Australian states. The Federal Government had supported the move by deploying the navy to enforce a blockade of Bass Strait, while the airports were also closed.
English cousins had contacted his mum, worried about their daughter who was travelling down the east coast of Australia. They had struggled to make contact, with her last known location being Sydney. Harry’s mum had volunteered him to help. He agreed, not really having another option. His mum said she’d hunt down a mobile phone number for her and then be back in contact.
She hung up after a last request to ‘Leave your bloody phone on this time!’
Chapter Fifteen
Mark eased the window up, then leaned out to check the surroundings. All appeared quiet. He sat on the frame, put his feet over the edge and dropped the four feet to the ground. The group had worked their way through the buildings attached to the back of the Quadrangle until they were as close as possible to Mark’s car. He stood to the side, leaning back into the shadow of the building and waited for the rest to join him. Mark adjusted the scabbard at his side, trying to find a less annoying position. He was in two minds now about the sword, but then again, the hammers hadn’t seemed any less cumbersome stuck through the waistbands of his team mates.
Once all had arrived, they moved to the car. Mark unlocked the doors, then propped his rifle on the dash within reach. Engaging the clutch, he shifted gear to neutral and gave a thumb up to Will and Novak who were at the front of the ute. They pushed the vehicle out of the parking space and onto the road. Once everyone had boarded, Mark released the brake. The road sloped downwards, allowing the ute to coast silently away from the Quadrangle. As the bitumen levelled out, Mark turned the key, brought the engine to life and pulled left onto Parramatta Road.
A group of Carriers milled about the intersection leading to the hospital. The engine noise immediately attracted their attention, forcing Mark to swing wide around their approach before turning left. The quickest route to the Regiment buildings led straight past the hospital’s entrance. The team had gambled that any Carriers should have wandered away from the area during the past twenty-four hours.
Half a block in, Mark hit the brakes. The street was impassable. Hundreds of Carriers blocked the way, lurching across the paths and road. Patients stumbled amongst them, some with IV lines dragging behind. Bloodied gowns flapped open, wet with gore. Nurses and doctors walked between former charges, vacant eyes and blood-smeared mouths attesting to their separation from humanity. The degree of violence meted during the invasion of the hospital was hideous. Most of the walking corpses missed large amounts of flesh, abdomens torn open, and faces gnawed away. Some crawled on the ground, trauma to their lower bodies so extreme as to prevent standing.
Mark’s brakes squealed as the ute shuddered to a halt. The Infected stopped moving, heads snapped around to fixate on Mark and his crew. Mouths opened, lips curled back and suddenly the swarm screa
med their mindless hatred, momentarily stunning the vehicle’s occupants.
En mass, the dead attacked. They came from all sides, pressed against the windows. A boy crawled up the bonnet to the windscreen, a victim from the paediatric ward. It fixed a predatory stare upon Will as it bared its teeth and grabbed at the wiper, tearing it away with one hand. No sound escaped it mouth, the upper throat torn out, cartilage rings of the trachea flopping sideways. Countless fists beat against the windows. Bloodied faces pressed against glass on all sides. Penny recoiled from her window where a ghoul clad in bloodied scrubs repeatedly punched the glass.
‘Mark!’ Penny cried. ‘We need to get out of here, they're going to break in!’
‘No fucking shit,’ he muttered, tearing his eyes away from the dead child on his bonnet.
A large crack spread across Penny’s window adding urgency to her warning. Mark glanced over his shoulder, finding the street blocked from behind as well. The closest exit was to their right, a small side street heading west. Mark jammed the gear stick into first and pushed forward into the crowd. Some of the standing corpses were pushed to the side, most couldn’t move in the press and disappeared under the front wheels as the ute bucked and rolled over the fleshy obstacle course.
Forward momentum stalled, the rear wheels spinning. Mark looked in his side mirrors, the back wheels were stuck in exposed flesh on both sides, spinning in a mess of entrails.
The Infected closed in once more. The cracked glass of Penny’s window shattered, showering her lap with sharp fragments. She screamed as a hand reached to grab her shoulder, jerking her towards the exposed teeth of her attacker. Penny jammed the chisel end of her hammer into its eye, jelly from the punctured orb squirting onto her chest; a second lunge shoved the spike deep into the brain. Novak leaned over Penny and shoved the body out of the window and off the end of Penny’s hammer. Other hands reached forward eagerly to take its place as Mark engaged the four-wheel drive and stamped on the accelerator. With the two front wheels in road contact, the ute finally launched into action. Heavy thuds jolted the ute as it collided with bodies, mowed them down and kept going. Bodies bounced from the sides leaving bloody smears behind.
Plague War: Outbreak Page 8
