Going Viral

by Andrew Puckett

  Made it… turned, got her hands under his armpits and heaved…

  Understood the term deadweight – Oh, please don’t let him be dead…

  His shoulders came slowly over the bank, then his body, bum, legs… feet. She dropped him and stood up – Where’s Josh ?

  The roar of the engine and lights weaving crazily over the wasteland maybe a hundred yards off... thank God they’d taken a four-by-four...

  She jumped up and down, shouting and waving; then, shivering violently, knelt beside Herry...

  Blood running down his face – good or bad?

  Couldn’t see any on his body… Was he breathing? Couldn’t tell…

  Ring an ambulance? No, quicker to take him themselves.

  She jumped up and down again until the headlights blinded her and it stopped beside her…

  ‘Christ, Bex – you OK?’

  ‘Just g-get him into the b-back…’

  She opened the door and helped Josh pick him up and roughly thrust him on the back seat, slammed the door –

  ‘T-turn round, g-gotta get transmitter –’ And my dry coat…

  She ran back up the bank, thought she must have missed it... No, there... fuck, she must have gone a long way down…

  She grabbed them as Josh pulled up beside her, she opened the back door, pushed them in, crawled in on top of them and slammed the door.

  ‘Hospital, fast as you can – and turn that f-fuckin’ heater onto full…’ She took a breath, clamped her mouth over Herry’s and blew…

  Nasty bubbling sound…

  Keep going… breathe in… blow out… in… out…

  He didn’t move.

  She looked up… they were bumping around and hadn’t got far... she had an idea… Another breath and blow, then she found the transmitter and called Brigg…

  ‘T-Tell an ambulance to meet us in C-collett W-way…’

  ‘Have you got him?’

  ‘Yeah – d-dunno if he’s alive, though – jus’ do it!’

  She went back to her blowing as the four-by-four bucked and reared and swerved across the wasteland…

  Breathe, blow… their teeth knocked together – how obscene if he was dead…

  She pushed the thought away and blew…

  Then Josh found a track and they went a bit faster... still had to swerve about –

  ‘Fuckin’ ditch… where did I cross it… Ah!’

  He roared across, then onto the track and they nearly took off over the canal bridge… roared up Gooch Way, onto Hawksworth as she heard the ambulance siren… breathe, blow…

  Then Josh screeched round the corner and they saw it ahead… drew up to it and Rebecca jumped out –

  ‘He’s in here, he’s been shot and then been in the river five, ten minutes,’ she gabbled…

  ‘It’s all right, we’ll take him now…’

  They eased him out, got him into the ambulance –

  ‘Are you all right, Miss?’

  ‘I’m fine – just go!’

  They went. She climbed into the front of the four-by-four.

  ‘Go to Brigg.’

  ‘Sure you shouldn’t have gone with them?’

  ‘Bit fuckin’ late now, isn’t it?’ Then, ‘I’m fine.’

  She called Brigg, told him they were coming in, then pulled off her wet clothes and struggled into her jumper and coat. Saw Josh trying not to look.

  ‘Just keep driving, pervo.’

  *

  Brigg had sent Greg and Naomi to shadow the diamonds, which were still moving, then told Stella and Dan to check the riverbank where the backpack bug was still bleeping.

  Greg and Naomi were cautiously closing in on the diamonds when, without warning, the signal from the bleepers faded and died. Brigg told them to carefully approach the spot where they had last been detected.

  They found it on a straight stretch of country road. There was absolutely nothing there...

  Dan and Stella negotiated their way over the wasteland and stopped by the trees. They got out with their torches and found the path.

  In the clearing were the backpack, a dead body, and a lot of blood. The body, a man, had been shot several times. They shone their torches across the river and saw a rowing boat half pulled up the opposite bank.

  *

  The next day at midday, the whole team assembled to take stock.

  Herry Smith was still in a coma – whether from the bullet that had creased his skull or hypothermic shock, the ward staff didn’t know.

  Fingerprints from the body in the clearing had showed that he had been Darryl Lane, a bouncer cum thug-for-hire. He still had a gun in his hand, from which one shot had been fired, leading to the conclusion that it had been he who’d shot Herry, just before the other man had shot him.

  ‘The question is – why?’ Brigg asked, looking round. ‘Is the other man the one behind all this, the one who killed the four we found in the flat? Or was he taking orders from that person?’

  ‘Or not as the case may be,’ Josh put in.

  ‘Or not…’ Brigg repeated…

  ‘What about the two you picked up on Thursday?’ Stella said, referring to Marc and Sophie, who’d been re-arrested the evening of the outbreak. ‘D’you think it’s one of them, or both?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Brigg said softly. ‘If it’s is, they’re a brilliant actor, or actors. And they obviously weren’t at the river.’

  Rebecca, who’d been deep in thought, looked up. ‘D’you remember when Herry was attacked a couple of weeks ago at the hospital? Could it be the same two?’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘We never did work out any reason for that, did we?’

  ‘Do you have one now?’

  ‘What if they were trying to kill him then, before they were interrupted?’

  ‘Then why not just shoot him outside?’

  After a short silence, Greg said, ‘Still nothing useful from the van?’

  Brigg shook his head. ‘Too thoroughly burnt out.’

  A van had been found abandoned and fired in a lay-by on the same road a mile and a half from where they’d heard the last signal from the fake diamond. The remains of a microwave oven had been found in the back.

  Brigg went on, ‘London have confirmed that microwaves will very effectively screw up the bugs. He obviously stopped, put the container in the oven, turned it on, then drove away while it was cooking.’

  A burned adaptor and lead had also been found in the van.

  ‘He must’ve had a car waiting for him in the lay-by, probably driven by the poor sap he shot,’ Josh mused.

  Rebecca said, ‘D’you think he deliberately stopped Lane from killing Herry?’

  ‘I can’t see why he should’ve cared one way or the other.’

  Josh said, ‘Boss – what about checking Lane’s known associates?’

  ‘In hand. But I can’t help thinking that this bloke’s a bit cleverer than Lane’s usual hang-abouts.’

  ‘Certainly more ruthless,’ Greg put in. Then, ‘Boss – what about telling the two you arrested about the shooting? About Lane, I mean – if it wasn’t on the script, you might get a reaction from one of them.’

  ‘That might be worth thinking about,’ Brigg said…

  Forensic were still combing the clearing, the boat and the remains of the van, but no one was tingling with anticipation. The only good news was that the smallpox outbreak seemed to be under control, although Gibb would be maintaining the quarantine for a while yet.

  Chapter 38

  Otherworld again, only more so.

  I was feeling quite well established there this time, so that when the call came to go back, I was able to ignore it for a while. Or at least, that’s my impression.

  But then I began to realise that the noises I was hearing belonged to back there, and slowly but steadily, like a fisherman who knows his line won’t break, back there reeled me back in.

  ‘Herry, can you hear me? Can you hear me? It’s Redd…’

  Re
dd, my brother. Ethelred, who, unsurprisingly, had shortened his name using the latter part of it. I opened my eyes and he slowly materialised.

  ‘Where am I?’ As I said it, I knew – there’s only one place where your bed is surrounded by bleeping machinery and you’ve got an IV drip in your arm. ‘How did I get here?’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’

  I shook my head – ‘Ah! That hurt…’ Redd looked round at the person beside him – Roland – then back at me... ‘What’s the last thing you can remember?’

  …Couldn’t remember anything… then something came through – finding a baby, and a load of dead bodies… a hidden lab – smallpox – Oh Christ…

  ‘Is Sarah all right?’

  He looked at Roland again, then back at me. ‘No Herry, I’m afraid she isn’t.’

  ‘She’s not dead.’ I said it as a statement.

  ‘I’m so sorry Herry, but she is.’

  I slapped my hands over my eyes and howled – ‘Oh no no no…’ After a time, Redd touched my arm… I got myself under control and slowly turned my head to him.

  He said, ‘Your daughter’s all right, though.’

  ‘ … My daughter… Grace?’

  Another nod. ‘She’s fine.’

  I looked at Roland and said in an almost normal voice, ‘What happened?’

  ‘It was fulminant, Herry. Like that poor girl from the shop.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday. You’ve been out for three days.’

  ‘Was she asking for me?’

  He shook his head. ‘It was very quick. Soaring temperature, rash, coma, gone. She didn’t suffer.’

  There was a silence while I tried to absorb it. Then, very calmly, I said, ‘I’d like you both to leave me alone for a little while, please. Jus’ so that I can get used to it.’

  Again, they looked at each other, then Redd said, ‘We’ll do that Herry – but I’m going to look in on you in… five, ten minutes.’

  ‘I’m not going to top myself if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  They got up, left. The door clicked behind them. Thank God I had a room to myself. Insiders’ perks.

  I thought: I’m a widower. How very, very strange. I thought I was going to be a divorcee, but instead, I’m a widower. ‘ Course, divorcees- they’re two a penny… but a widower, now that’s class…

  And with that, I started crying. Not loudly. In fact, silently at first. I felt the water running down my face, heard a rather pathetic whimpering noise – knew it was me, of course – no one else around…

  Then I was weeping openly, hoping Redd wouldn’t come back in, glad when he did. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled out some tissues and stuffed them into my hands, then sat beside me and said quietly,

  ‘Let it come, Herry, just let it come.’ We’re not a particularly tactile family.

  At last, it meandered to a stop.

  ‘Better?’ he said, and I nodded.

  After a silence, he said, ‘I’d no idea that you two had got together again.’

  ‘Ironic, isn’t it?’

  ‘Ironic, but good.’

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Means your marriage was a success, not a failure. That’s something worth having, especially with your daughter.’

  I thought about it and realised he was right, which made me weepy again for a while.

  We talked. I found I needed to talk about Sarah, and how we’d got back together again. After a while, I asked him how his family was, and he said fine.

  Roland poked his head round and asked if he could come in. Sure. He found a chair and sat beside Redd. I asked if I could have the IV drip out and he said he didn’t see why not.

  He went on, ‘Actually, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked the consultant, Jill Martins, if she’d come and have a look at you in a minute. You can ask her.’

  More insiders’ perks. I asked him about the bandage round my head (I’d felt it when I’d put my hands over my eyes) and he told me it was a bullet wound.

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ he asked.

  I went to shake my head, thought better of it. ‘No.’

  He explained how the bullet had just creased my skull and I’d fallen into the river afterwards. ‘You owe your life to that woman cop – police person or whatever they are now. Another few minutes in that water and you’d have been gone.’

  ‘She came in after me?’

  He nodded. ‘You were quite a way out, she had to swim for you.’

  ‘And I was unconscious?’

  Another nod.

  ‘Why didn’t I drown?’

  ‘She said you were hanging on to a piece of wood. Survival instinct, I suppose.’

  I asked what was happening in Newton-on-Exe and he told me how the outbreak was more or less contained. ‘We’ve had a few cases from outside – people who caught it there but lived somewhere else.’

  There had been thirty-nine cases so far and seven deaths, he told me. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if we had a few secondary cases, but I think the worst is over.’

  I said, ‘It’s only just occurred to me – did they get who was behind it?’

  ‘Not so far as I know. The police’ll be wanting to talk to you, you can ask them.’

  The door opened and Jill Martins, the consultant, came in. We’d met before, although I didn’t know her well. She in was in her forties with greying hair: tall, spare, confident. She commiserated, asked me how I felt, poked and prodded me about.

  ‘When can I go home?’

  She made a face. ‘We should really keep you in a few days with an injury like this–’

  ‘And I really want to go home.’

  She looked at me. ‘I can understand that. Let’s see how you are tomorrow morning. Then, maybe in the afternoon…’

  After she’d gone, I asked Roland if I could see Grace.

  He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry, but you’d better not just now.’ Another pause. ‘She’s had – I suppose, still got – smallpox, but very, very mildly. It sometimes happens like that.’ Then he said, ‘You know, it might be because she’d been breast fed.’

  So Sarah’s determination to be a good mother had probably saved Grace’s life. I said so, and he slowly nodded.

  ‘Let’s see how things are tomorrow, and perhaps we could take you to see her.’

  A nurse came in to take out the drip and give me a wash. It was mildly humiliating, but I felt better for it afterwards. I had some soup off the trolley, although the nurse warned me my guts might be in turmoil for a while. Bedpans. Yippee doo. Redd came back in the evening.

  When night came, I couldn’t sleep. My head was aching and they gave me paracetamol. Lying there, however, I started remembering things and gradually, the spaces filled up. I remembered agreeing to take the diamonds, the mobile phone I found giving me orders, walking through the woods with one in front and one behind. The clearing, the gunshot, the conviction I was going to die. I remembered falling in the water, but nothing else.

  I thought about Sarah. I hoped they were telling me the truth and she hadn’t been asking for me and wondering where I was. Why I wasn’t with her. Cried on and off, although I tried to stop when the night nurse looked in. Wished I could do it at home.

  Eventually, I must have slept.

  The next morning, Jill Martins examined me again, watched while I walked up and down the room a few times. When I told her my brother would be staying with me a few days, she said I could go home.

  Before I went, Roland took me to see Grace. I had to gown up.

  She looked fine. There were a couple of spots round her forehead, but they were healing already. She stared back at me, frowning. I’d like to think she recognised me, although it was more likely she was wondering about the bandage on my head. Then Redd drove me home.

  Brigg and Rebecca came round later in the afternoon. Brigg had called, so I knew they were coming. As soon as they were inside, Rebecca took my hand in both of hers.

  ‘I’m
so sorry, Herry. I can’t imagine what it must be like.’

  I just nodded, took them through to the sitting room and introduced them to Redd. They sat down, then Brigg looked at me.

  ‘As Rebecca said, we’re both very sorry for your loss, Herry.’ The first time he’d used my Christian name. ‘I’m also sorry it’s necessary to intrude so soon. Can you manage a few questions?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I want my brother to sit in.’

  His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Moral support. Also, a fresh mind might help. He already knows most of it.’

  Brigg’s mouth tightened. ‘I don’t think you should have –’

  Redd interrupted. ‘I work for the government myself Commander, and I’ve signed the Official Secrets Act.’

  Brigg took a breath. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Provided you don’t make any comments while I’m asking questions. I mean that.’

  Redd nodded. Brigg went on.

  ‘What I want to go over with you is the sequence of events during the handover. Can you remember that?’

  ‘Most of it, I think.’ I told him everything I could remember. I felt curiously unemotional, uninvolved – perhaps because what happened later was worse.

  That changed.

  Brigg produced a tape machine and we went over it again, after playing each sequence of the recording. That brought it back all right – I started shaking as soon as I heard that hateful voice. However, it also brought back details I hadn’t remembered.

  The way the moon lit up the wasteland, and later the river; the curious light on the skyline. And another quality of his voice.

  The slight Bristolian accent came over in the tape, but so did the calm, almost reassuring quality he’d had, even though he knew he was sucking me into a trap …

  The voice of the other one – Jase! I’d forgotten that too, and how much rougher his voice was, more brutal.

  Then the moment when they shot me – no, he – Jase – shot me…

  A splash, then nothing more.

  Brigg switched off the machine. ‘A couple of things stand out,’ he said. ‘Jase was obviously expecting to shoot you – the other one actually called him over to do it. And yet he shot Jase before Jase could kill you. Was that deliberate?’