Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

  It was luckily contained on the ship after it departed from the docks, although from reports one or two of the Infected crew made it off the vessel, and have now as luck would have it, Infected the entire area. The Red Directorate has quarantined the place and has a small team working the perimeter making sure none of the Infected, make it into the city. However, that only makes our job all the harder, as technically speaking the site is not supposed to be there, so we have no data on the layout or just how many possible Infected combatants there are likely to be.'

  The men groaned collectively as they digested the information, muttered curses and mumbled statements rolled over the small network as the men spoke amongst themselves not bothering to disconnect from the radio system. Rawlings smirked as he looked directly at Pottergate.

  'So, let me get this straight, we,

  He waved his hand around the aircraft indicating all present.

  'Are going into an unknown location; with an unknown enemy force, under armed, and working on third hand information.'

  Bolton, chuckled as he sat next to Rawlings.

  'Gotta love this job ain't ya.'

  The group laughed amongst themselves as Pottergate smirked.

  'Problem there, Corporal?'

  Rawlings shrugged.

  'Nah boss, just checking to see if we were as fucked as I thought we were.'

  The rest of the journey continued in silence, once Pottergate finished his briefing; Baker felt a tension begin to settle in his stomach as he thought through the events that had taken place four weeks before; he felt his eye lids droop, the rocking of the plane lulling him, his body sinking deeper into the all encompassing embrace of the canvas harness as sleep slowly claimed him. Drifting deeper into his subconscious the memories of the past four months came back to haunt him, once again.

  2

  Panjshir Valley

  Four months ago

  'This is Echo Four, we have an inbound technical on the northern pass, please advise.'

  Rawlings stared through the scope of his L115A3 rifle as he tracked the incoming vehicle, he knew the rifle didn't pack enough punch to take the engine out without a very lucky shot; but he could still, with the right Windage, take out the driver and gunner with ease. The truck rolled through the centre of the village passing the corner of one of the squat mud caked buildings by no more than two feet.

  His spotter, Bolton, stared down the telescope relaying the conditions as he saw them; checking and cross checking everything with Rawlings second by second as they waited for a reply.

  'Gunner's tracking the road ahead, he's worried about something down there.'

  Rawlings clicked the windage drum one place as he settled the cross hairs over the insurgent's chest. The chequered Shemag, covering his features, flapped and ruffled as he was dragged through the air by the vehicle beneath him. The barrel of the .50 calibre machine gun tracking wildly from left to right.

  'I see it.'

  Bolton tracked a few feet ahead of the vehicle laying eyes on a plastic bag caught in the jumbled spool of razor wire on the side of the road, the sniper team had hung it there twelve hours before as range marker and windage indicator.

  'Wind's shifted, and picked up, blowing in from the north east at,' Bolton quickly glanced at the displayed wind speed. 'Two miles per.'

  'Roger that.'

  Two soft clicks were heard as Rawlings dialled it in tracking his target, as he did so his radio crackled, the bead in his ear causing him to wince ever so slightly. He shifted his weight, the dust laden grit beneath him grating at his elbows. He pulled the rifle's stock tighter into his shoulder as he adjusted the hood of his ghillie suit.

  'Target is cleared, let them pass.'

  Rawlings let his finger ease off the trigger as he continued to follow the vehicle. Watching, he eased away from it and swung the rifle scope's reticle back to the pass he was covering as the truck rounded the corner of another house and dropped from view.

  Baker slipped round the corner of the building tipping a wave as he moved, knowing that Rawlings and Bolton would be following his every move.

  'Comfy up there?'

  Baker heard a soft chuckle in his ear piece as he moved through the dust laden shadow of a building.

  'Yes, thanks. Fancy a cuppa, Bolton's putting a brew on.'

  Derek grinned and stuck his middle finger up in their direction as he entered a doorway.

  Baker scanned left and right, his rifle tracking across the room. His foot lowered slowly as he crept into the room and slipped through the door like oil over water as he moved down the two stone and mud steps into the partially sunken floor of the one story building.

  Stepping lightly across the uneven surface of the plain dirt floor, Baker made his way quickly and quietly to the open archway leading through to the next room.

  Sliding to the edge of the archway, Baker slowly edged his face closer to the corner. Stealing a glance inside the room he froze, his eyes transfixed on what lay before him. The young boy lay pinned to the floor, his feet pummelling the chest and lower torso of the man atop him as the young boy's fists pounded at the man's bearded face and head.

  A stream of garbled Arabic spewed forth from the youth, Baker with his limited understanding picked out a few choice curses from the jumbled stream of words. Baker watched as the man's head dove forwards aiming for the child's neck. Saliva spewed forth as the man's slathering jaws snapped and gnashed as if trying to chew through the air to quicken his decent; the screaming and thrashing continued even as the man's teeth made contact with the boy's skin. Baker had seen enough; spinning round the corner he raised his rifle in one smooth motion and fired a single suppressed shot, the bullet impacted with the side of the Arab's head. The back of the man's skull shattered in a spray of brain matter and splintered bone, the dull clink of wet bone echoed slightly as it bounced over the walls and floor. A dull thump followed scant milliseconds later as the now lifeless body hit the floor; the boy's struggling redoubled as he felt the lifeless corpse pressing down upon him.

  'Kid, you okay?'

  The boy's movements stilled as Baker edged closer, his feet drove him forwards as his mind whirled, searching through his basic knowledge of the language for the right words.

  Clumsily he stumbled over them; the stilted words feeling strange on his tongue as if he was talking through liquid toffee. He stood watching as the boy's fingers flexed and clawed at the floor, grabbing hold of the dead man's robes he pushed the body away and for the first time he saw the face of the child he had saved. The boy's eyes were wide and blood shot, his face a pale ashen grey. The skin began to slowly swell and blister. Pustular weeping sores erupting in fountains of steaming green puss, the stinking green fluid flowed down the child’s face.

  Baker's brow furrowed in confusion. Kicking the body over onto its back he looked at the eyes of the man he had just killed. As he did his blood ran cold, chilling him to the core.

  'Fuck.'

  His rifle snapped up and locked on to the boy before him.

  Backing away slowly, Baker felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something was wrong; very wrong. The whole village took on a new aura of malevolence for him as he heard the soft scraping of sandals over dirt. Spinning through a one hundred and eighty degree arc, he set his rifle's optical sights over the archway he had just come through, the silhouetted form of a man in Arabic robes loomed in the doorway, silhouetted by the dying of the morning sun.

  Stepping back quickly, Baker moved towards the only other exit he could conceivably use, the small box shaped window behind him. Moving back as quickly as he could without alarming those around him, Baker made his way to his last hope of survival. He pressed the stock of his weapon tight to his shoulder lodging it in place, his knuckles turning white from the pressure on the pistol grip of his weapon.

  He felt behind him for the ledge of the window, his hand floundering in the air as he groped blindly for the rough hewn block work of the casement.

&nb
sp; His finger tips made the briefest of contact with the casement and he sighed mentally with relief as he felt his salvation within reach. Then his world went sideways as a ragged bearded face burst through the window as a small body slammed into Baker's unprotected side sending him careening into the wall. The boy's teeth snapped at Baker's dust covered face, the boy's face sent a cold shiver through him as he stared at the now pallid pustule scared flesh. The boy's skin seemed to move of its own accord as if the flesh beneath were in itself alive. The child's eyes chilled Baker to his very soul.

  As he gazed into them, they shone with a dull lifeless glow. They were wild with hunger and dead as a corpse's. He gazed into the bottomless pits of pupils that were dilated far beyond normal; it was akin to staring into the depths of space; a dark merciless void, empty and barren as if the very soul of the child had died.

  The child's skinned lips were pulled back so tightly, that the dull bloodless flesh of the child's gums glimmered before him wet with saliva. Mucus and saliva poured forth from the boy in equal measure

  as he lunged forward face first, intent on sinking his stained pre-pubescent teeth into Baker's unprotected cheek.

  Grimacing, Baker drove his closed fist into the child's windpipe and almost wept when he felt the fragile cartilage snap upon contact. The boy's eyes bulged as his airways were suddenly gone from this world. The child's mouth opened and closed as he gasped clawing at his destroyed oesophagus.

  The Arab in the window levered himself through, collapsing to the floor with a crunch. Like a amalgamation of man, snake, and spider, he crawled over the dirt floor to the struggling form of the child and with all the glee of a vengeful predator, sunk his teeth into the boy's throat.

  Blood burst forth in a glistening arc of arterial spray. The wet opalescent fluid glistened in the sunlight as it pattered across the ground, bursting like a dying star as it impacted mixing with the heavy red dust of the floor. Blood dripped from the ceiling as Baker sat there staring.

  Unable to tear his gaze away from the sight before him, he couldn't shake from his mind the fact that this man was eating, literally eating the boy as he thrashed beneath him.

  Slowly the boy's movement stilled, and still the man ate sinking further and further into the boy's form as he chewed through all in his path. Blood rolled over the floor in an ever expanding mire of dust laden goo, the cooling mixture made the air metallic with its stench.

  The rich acidic copper taste clung to Baker's throat as he pushed himself up from his position against the wall and staggered to the window, heaving himself bodily through it. Turning, he glanced behind him locking eyes with the Arab in the arch way. The cool amber coloured eyes stared back at him from beneath the black bush like eyebrows as he watched Baker and the gorging feast before him.

  Baker's spell of captivation was broken by the garbled cries of four men as they rounded the corner. Like a pack of wolves they screamed as one. The sound was primal, almost inhuman as they sprinted towards Baker's confused form. Snapping his rifle to his shoulder, he fired three quick shots and watched as two of them smashed into the face of one of his would-be assailants, while the third carved deeply into the throat of another.

  Startled, stung, and yelping, the other two turned and fled. Baker quickly jogged to the prostrate forms of the two men. One was a twitching headless mess, while the second lay choking on his own blood. Baker stared down at him searching for some sign of life in the man's face but all he found was the same dilated blood shot dead eyes of his other two would-be killers in the building behind him, he watched as the blood bubbled up from the dying man's throat. The crimson liquid surging forth in small cascading fountains as his lungs slowly began to fill.

  The twisted distorted features of the condemned man, glared up at him the dark soulless eyes warped by the pustule filled sores surrounding them and his mouth. The man below him shot his hand forth, his bone-like fingers curling into Baker's assault vest as he heaved himself upwards, jaws snapping.

  A heavy muffled pop echoed down the dead alleyway and the man's body fell to the floor lifeless. Sliding his side arm into its holster on his thigh, Baker stood and quickly made his way to the end of the alley. Glancing quickly left and right, Baker sprinted across the deserted road way.

  'Pottergate, this is Baker.'

  Listening intently, Baker slid to a halt behind a rapidly over flowing skip. Dropping to one knee, he slipped his water bottle from the pouch on his side and drank quickly, rapidly screwing the cap back on and shoving the bottle back into the pouch as his ear bead squawked.

  'Baker, this is Pottergate, go ahead'

  Baker pressed down on the microphone strapped to his throat. 'Something has hit this place big time, chief. I just watched a local chew his way through a kid who seconds before had tried to do the same to me. I managed to hop through an open window and was promptly set upon by four other locals. I dropped two and the others legged it. Chief, it's not good news thus far I know and it only gets worse. They have the same physical symptoms as those eight troopers back in Abu Naji, it's here boss whatever the fuck it is, it's here.'

  Baker heard a poorly suppressed curse roll down the line as he let the reality of what he was saying sink in.

  'You think it's the same thing.'

  Baker grimaced; he didn't want to admit it and he could hear the tinge of pleading denial in his commander's voice, but he had no choice.

  'Yeah, I do.'

  He heard Pottergate sigh deeply as he thought over the ramifications.

  'Fine, call up the rest and sweep and clear the entire place. It's a directive ten situation. I'll get the top to inform the Iraqis of the situation. Rawlings, Bolton.'

  The line fizzed for a second then Rawlings' West Country accent rolled down the line.

  'Sir?'

  'We all know you were listening in. You're on over watch. You are authorized weapons free; drop anything on two feet that isn't in a military uniform. If it moves, kill it.' Baker pulled his finger away from his ear as he scanned the surroundings. The cold tendrils of paranoia began to slither up through his spine as he waited for any signs of the rest of his team mates.

  'Cherry, chill, mate, we got you covered, Bolton has jumped on the fifty so we have more bang for our buck up here.'

  Baker snorted at the use of his nickname. Ever since someone had mistyped his last name on a docket slip he had been branded with the nickname Cherry.

  Baker had sworn vengeance upon the man who had forever tainted his name, but much to his chagrin, he had never found the one responsible for comparing him to a marzipan based English pastry.

  Glancing up to the ridge above him, he smiled tightly.

  'Fucking Bakewell.'

  Rawlings' quizzical tone slipped through the ear bead.

  'What was that Cherry?'

  'Nothing mate just comforting to know that Oh two is on a high calibre rifle and covering my arse.'

  A stream of laughter filled curses poured into Baker's ear like syrup, drawing him into a heartfelt smile. Bolton hated his nickname but there was little he could do about it when it was given to him by his C.O's daughter.

  Baker watched as they materialised in front of him, seemingly from nothing, the hushed whispers echoing from them all leant an ethereal quality to their arrival as one by one the seven other members of the ten man team found their way to him.

  'Baker we got contact.'

  The resounding crash of a high velocity armour piercing round being fired echoed throughout the valley. The tortured screeching of twisting metal assaulted their ears as the vehicle rolled over the compacted rock strewn dirt of the road way. The gunner was tossed like a rag doll landing in a broken crumpled heap seventeen feet from Bakers feet.

  A dark russet coloured smear worked it's glistening path away from the smouldering, twisted wreckage that was once an old Toyota pick up. Baker dropped to his knee, rifle barking as he sighted on the on rushing mass of flesh before them.

  'They ain't going down, what
the fuck?'

  Baker growled at Dimi's high toned, squeaking question. The small Mauritian was the newest addition to the team and the least clued up; which in situations like this made the rest of the team's job that much harder.

  'Aim for the head; put them down for good.'

  Dimi immediately switched his aim, dropping six in the first salvo. 'How do you know this shit?'

  Baker smirked.

  'Who do you think sorted out the Abu Naji problem?'

  Dimi's eyes bulged, shock skating over his features like a figure skater over a frozen lake.

  'That was you?'

  Kingsley slapped Dimi round the head as he fired one handed with his side arm.

  'No, it was Doctor fucking Seuss. Who did you think it was? Baker was the one called in. Well, him, Rawlings, Bolton, the Boss and myself but that's besides the fucking point. The point is shoot, them in the head, anywhere other than their bonce and it's a waste of time and ammunition. The virus fucks them up so bad they won't even notice they were hit. Heart shot yeah that'll drop them sure as shit ain't ice cream, but you try hitting someone in the heart while they're screaming bloody murder and sprinting at you for all they're worth. Shoot them in the head first time, every time. Saves a lot of trouble and ammo.'

  As if illustrating his point, Kingsley snapped off three more rounds, driving the nine millimetre hollow points deep into the heads of the Infected closest to him.

  Rawlings' bolt moved in a blur as he slid home round after round; every one finding its home inside the cranium of any Infected he chose. The noise and dust seemed to vanish as quickly as it appeared, the air shimmering like light behind a gossamer curtain. The dust swirled and danced in the dimming noon day sun as it finally began to settle and the road swam into view, the sight they beheld stunned them all.