Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

  The other five men nodded in unison. 'Good. Okay, Vatican detailed this as a class-two break. 'It's contained, but the media got wind of whatever the fuck sparked this off, we reckon some latent carrier from the Africa incident two years ago went viral. 'They've been popping up all over the shop recently, something to do with antibodies in their blood fighting the infection, or some bollocks. Baker was talking, but I wasn't paying much attention, all a bit of a rush to be honest.'

  Turning his head, Davies caught sight of a camera man zooming in on them, motioning frantically to a Police officer; he watched as the man was pushed back and his camera confiscated.

  'Tosser. Any way; we go in, sweep and clear, any civvies inside are to be cuffed and detained and a beacon light hooked onto the window outside the building. Any Infected well, you know what to do boys, just watch your footing and check the stairs as you go. This building is due for demolition in a month and there shouldn't be a very high civilian presence.'

  The team nodded as one watching Davies intently as he held up a black leather gloved hand.

  The world went silent as one by one his fingers dropped from three to one then with a jerking motion of his arm and a closed fist the team burst in through the doors.

  ****

  The building was plunged into darkness as the team entered, with a snap of their heads night vision monoculars dropped down over their left eyes.

  A soft electrical whine turned the world a hazy green as they stared into the hardened rubber eye piece. Scanning left and right as they moved, the light reactive beams of their rifles danced in their vision. The beams slid over the rippled, water-stained concrete walls like a snake through water. The air was ripe with the smell of mould and fungus, the cloying stench of damp and stagnant water clung to their throats leaving a rancid taste, akin to rotten meat in the backs of their throats. Davies suddenly lifted a closed fist, and slowly dropped to one knee.

  The five men following, slipped close to the walls as they hunkered down, their rifles raised and pulled tight to their shoulders. Cocking his head to one side, Davies listened intently, his mouth opening, stretching the coarse fabric of his Nomex as his hearing cleared, free from the sound of his own beating heart. A hollow, scraping clunk echoed next to his head, turning slowly his boots crushing the grit beneath them to powder as he looked at the wall.

  Pushing himself up from the floor by the sheer strength of his legs, he settled on to the balls of his feet, his rifle trained on the concrete slab in front of him.

  The thumping and groaning increased as he watched the water stained wall. Motioning to the others to follow, he moved left rounding a corner. The hallway was dark and vacant. Cold seemed to seep from every surface, pushing its way through them like a knife through warm butter, leaving all chilled to the very core of their being. Reaching for the door handle, Davies subconsciously grinned as the rest of the team stacked up around him.

  Twisting the handle, he pushed the door open and moved in. The door swung back creaking slightly as the aged and dirty brass hinges ground against each other, a soft thump echoing round the room as the door hit the plaster coated wall.

  With short, sharp motions, Davies sent three men towards the rear of the flat as he, Reiley, and Baxter moved off to clear the rest.

  Three soft clicks buzzed in Davies' ear as the others signalled the remainder of the ground floor flat was clear. Raising his foot, Davies slammed it into a door, splintering the frame and sending it flying open. The door shot back, cracking in to the wall with a powder filled thump, burying the rounded handle deep into the soft breeze block wall.

  Two Infected stared up at the intrusion, their faces smeared with the blood and excrement of the man in whose stomach and chest they were elbow deep. The smell of offal and faeces permeated the room, making the men gag, Davies' rifle zeroed in on the two Infected in front of him, his finger curling, drawing tight on the trigger.

  The recoil thumped gently into his shoulder as he fired three short, sharp, shots. The lifeless bodies of the Infected crumpled, falling to the floor as the bullets tore through them, spraying the wall and ceiling with grey matter. He gritted his teeth, stifling a curse as he saw the small slightly smoking hole in the wall where his third round had gone wide.

  Racing forwards, they cleared the remaining room and headed back into the main lounge. Standing there in the centre of the room, a sense of uneasy calm descended upon them all. It was eerie given the sights that lingered just beyond the door way the rest of the one story two bedroom dwelling was simply untouched, not a chair or table out of place.

  Shaking his head, Davies turned and made a hasty exit from the room. Motioning to the door, he watched Clarkenwell stop and pull out a roll of black and yellow bio-hazard tape and seal the door shut with it.

  Motioning to the left hand corridor the team split. Jones, along with Reiley and Baxter, peeled off heading down the corridor, their rifles levelled, trained ahead of them.

  The heavy metal and hardened plastic weapons tugged on their shoulders, the webbing sling pulling at their uniforms as they panned left to right sweeping the corridor. Their breath began to condense on the insides of the Nomex balaclavas hugging their features, a wall of water forming against their mouths and noses as they breathed sending the tepid stale water up through their nose almost choking them.

  Screaming cut through any irritation the damp clinging material caused them as all three men broke into a dead sprint. A door ahead of them burst open as a youth in a hooded sweat shirt crashed through it slamming into the wall. His cry of anger quickly turned into one of pure unadulterated rage as he saw the object of his untimely ejection appear in the door way.

  'You fucking cunt, I'll slice you in half.'

  The Infected in front of him seemed to regard him quizzically for a second as if his curse filled cry had somehow registered against a dim glow of a rapidly dying brain.

  Its guttural moan quickly rose to the fore as it ran towards him, the boy ducked low driving the carving knife deep into its abdomen. Again and again the blade flashed as he kept driving it deeper and deeper into the depths of the creatures gut. Wrenching the blade free, he pushed the Infected away its head cracking into the concrete wall.

  The dull crack of splitting bone echoed down the hall way as its skull split like an over ripe melon. Standing, his chest heaving the youth ran a sleeve covered wrist over his mouth, his eyes boggled as he watched what he thought to be a defeated opponent begin to struggle to its feet.

  Leaping forwards he slammed his trainer covered foot into the back of its head, driving it face first into the unyielding concrete below. The sickening crunch of a collapsing occipital bone was quickly swallowed up by the wet slapping of a foot meeting brain matter as the boy continued his deluge.

  'Fucking mother fucker, screw with me is it, teach you bruv no one fucks with my fam and walks away bruv, No one!'

  Jones ran forwards and dragged the boy away as a second Infected lurched out the door, the boys face became as mask of pure terror as his eyes locked on to what was before him.

  'M, m, m, mum, nah man no, she, nah way bruv. No, she dead, that prick merced her I fucking saw it!' He screamed, half scared out of his mind as he watched the Infected body of his mother lurch towards them. The Infected corralled between Jones, Baxter, and Reiley seemed to be torn between which of the three men it would consume first.

  It's flat, dead eyes scanned the hall before they latched on to the petrified gaze of the young teenager behind Jones, lurching into a stumbling run, it propelled itself towards its prey. Without a second's hesitation all three men fired a single round, the three bullets entered the skull of the Infected in almost perfect sync, obliterating the upper half of the creatures head as they trisected its skull.

  The boy watched in horror as his mothers head vanished in a burst of blood and gore. The red mist falling like rain as the body dropped lifelessly to the floor. Jones snapped his hand in the direction of the door and watched as Baxter and Reile
y both disappeared through it.

  'You, you, you.'

  Jones turned the boy to face him, he was surprised to find himself, staring into the face of a fifteen year-old child, he looked a lot older, sighing Jones began to speak.

  'No that,' He paused as he pointed down to the floor, 'Was not your mother, the one you stomped to death killed your mother, that thing was not her.'

  The child's mouth was working like a piston as he struggled to gel together everything he was seeing with what he knew was real. Jones watched as the kids mind whirled and swam, when the air was split by a choked, wailing groan. Looking past the boy he saw three Infected ambling towards them, their shambling gate all too familiar to any cinema patron of the late eighties and early nineties, as they advanced slowly down the corridor.

  Their heads, rolling on their necks as they searched for something of interest. A strangled, oil-filled groan bubbled from within them as they slowly settled their gaze on the soldier and boy before them. The boy's stuttered, blustering façade fell like the Berlin wall as he baulked at the sight of what was before him, a soft whispering murmur left his lips as he watched them advance.

  'Zombies'

  Jones' head snapped round as he heard the word leave the boys lips, a look of sheer amazed condescension filled his features.

  'Zombies, they aren't zombies, they're, for lack of a better designation, psychotic cannibals; a zombie is a walking corpse, these.'

  He paused slightly, beginning to doubt his own words as he took in the appearance of the Infected before him, shaking his head slightly he ploughed onwards.

  'These, are not zombies, in-fact to be fair, zombie is a created term patented by a director in the late sixties and as I said a walking corpse is impossible.'

  'Well if they ain't fucking zombies then what are they, you douche-bag'

  Snatching up his rifle he fired three perfectly aimed rounds into the Infected heads, dropping them all. They collapsed into a heap on top of their fellow Infected, Jones looked down at the boy's face his features white with fear, sneering he walked over and kicked one of them over.

  'These are Infected plain and simple, you take 'em out with a single clean shot to the head, or to the heart, that,' he pointed past the boy, 'was not you mother it was one of these.' He kicked one of them in the head illustrating his point. 'End of lesson.'

  Jones placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, the kevlar hardened leather heavy against the boys light frame, guiding him back into the single floored dwelling he set the boy down in a chair and stood before him.

  'Anyone else here?'

  The boy nodded, all the fight, and rebellious attitude he had shown earlier was gone, showing him all too clearly, as the child he really was.

  'Who?'

  The boy looked up at him as Jones reached out and took the knife from his hand tossing it out the door.

  'My sister Liz, she's only eight'

  Jones nodded.

  'What about your dad?'

  The boy just shrugged indifferently.

  'Don't know him'

  Jones nodded once more, slightly stunned but unwilling to let it show through.

  'Right lose the jacket, trousers and your trainers, chuck 'em out the door.'

  He called over his shoulder as he walked to the window shoving it open.

  'Can't risk secondary infection.'

  Reaching into a pouch on his hip he pulled out a small red beacon light and hooked it over the window as he switched it on, slamming the window shut he turned and saw the boy dressed in a grey sleeveless t-shirt and Spiderman boxers throw his stained and bloodied tracksuit out the door.

  'Right lad come here, got to spray you down, sorry it's going to sting and probably smell like shit but better than ending up like one of them.'

  As Jones pulled out a aerosol can of highly concentrated disinfectant, Baxter and Reiley walked back in, a small girl clutching tightly onto Reiley's neck as he carried her on one arm. Her light blonde hair was plastered to her head as she sobbed into his neck, setting her down on a chair Reiley walked to Jones' side.

  'Place is clean.'

  Jones nodded and tapped his throat mike twice before calling through.

  'Control, we have two minors on level one, placed beacon in window and cleared the residence, please advise. Over'

  The line bounced and crackled for a second before a calm female voice spoke.

  'This is control, contain, and detain as ordered.'

  Jones groaned.

  'Control that is a negative cannot comply, can contain but detainment is not an option age restriction is in effect Control. Over'

  'Acknowledge, contain and detain as you see fit. Control out.'

  'Roger that Control. Over and out.'

  The mist from the can clung to the boy like a second skin, seeping into this pores and set his skin on fire, Jones watched the boy's skin flare a pale shade of red as the disinfectant went to work.

  'Sorry kid, told you it would hurt'

  His voice held very little sympathy for the child, despite what his eyes conveyed to anyone who looked.

  Liz looked at her brother, her eyes wide with fear and the onset of shock.

  'Robbie where's mummy? She looked funny after that man was mean to her.'

  'Robbie, so that's your name, nice to meet you Rob, names Chris.'

  Lifting his Nomex out the way Jones scratched the underside of his chin the smattering of dark ginger stubble grating against the tips of his gloved fingers.

  'Okay boys, lets seal the room up and move on, Robbie I want you to look after Liz until a friend of ours comes and gets you, they will be in a big yellow suit and named Kirsty okay.'

  Robbie nodded, slightly irked buy the tone of voice Jones had subconsciously used with him.

  'Okay lads sweep and clear the rest of this side we have another twenty-three floors to go.'

  With that, the three specialists swept out the room and vanished.

  26

  The sixteenth floor loomed in front of them, the door stained with the streaked, russet coloured prints of the fleeing wounded. A body sat slumped in the corner of the stair well as Davies crested the top step. He let his weapon fall across his stomach as he approached the still form of the woman. With a deep pang of regret, he slid his blade from its sheath on his chest and knelt down, brushing away the tawny locks of hair from her face, he peered at the delicate features before him. In another life she would have been a stunning woman, the elfin chin, alabaster skin, and high cheekbones gave her an almost surreal look, marred only by the blood staining her tender visage. Cupping the back of her neck Davies pulled her forwards, her cold dead eyes staring ahead, a look of sheer terror locked across her now ghost-pale face. With a short, sharp jab Davies slid the blade up through the base of her skull slicing deep into her brain severing the spine and slicing the medulla oblongata clean in two.

  'Sorry, wish there was another way. I hope you find peace.'

  He wiped the blade on the leg of his uniform before setting it back into the sheath on his chest. Reaching out, he gently slid her eyes closed and rose to his feet once more.

  'Come on lads, let's move on.'

  ****

  The hot, stifling confines of the closed corridors combined with the heat retentive Nomex masks they were ordered to wear was slowly but surely wearing them down as they moved higher and higher into tower block. Their legs pushing them up as they made their way to the next floor, the burning in his thighs was beginning to grate on his nerves as they reached the landing for their destination.

  Davies stood, his chest rising and falling slowly as he controlled his breathing, Jones at his side, a silence engulfing them as they scanned the corridors before them, 'Right boys, same shit different floor. Let's get to work, same teams as before. Jones you and your boys take the north side this time, me and the others have the south.'

  Jones nodded as his small team slipped away into the sweltering heat of the corridors.

  Davies sped d
own the corridor, a deep sense of dread filled him and he just couldn't shake it, slamming his foot into the door in front of him he stepped to the side as the others swept into the room, the sight that greeted them surprised them all.

  'What the fuck?'

  Nothing was there, the room was completely bare, Hamilton strolled in and stepped past Davies. The floor creaking under him as he moved, Davies' senses were going haywire, thoughts flying through his head faster than he could consciously process them.

  'Rory, Do not move.'

  Hamilton stood stock still he knew if Davies used his first name something was very, very wrong, as soon as Hamilton's weight settled the floor buckled and he dropped like a stone. Davies leapt through the air as Hamilton dropped out sight, sliding along the floor, his fingers just curled round Hamilton’s wrist as he flew past the ceiling of the next room. 'Oh fuck, pull me up.' His feet kicked at the air as he tried to claw his way to freedom.

  The look in the eyes of the carnivorous beasts below him chilled Hamilton to the core he knew they saw meat, and that they were determined to get it.

  Their mouths hung open in anticipation of a fresh meal, saliva and blood hung in thick congealing ropes from their pale lips.

  Davies felt himself sliding as he desperately clung to Hamilton's wrist, dragging his blade from the sheath on his chest he drove the carbon steel blade as hard as he could into the floor beneath him, aiming the matte-black weapon at a jagged rent in the concrete beneath him.

  Clarkenwell drew a loop of parachute cord from his belt kit and fed it through the gap between the wall and the door tying the end around his combat knife, tugging at the improvised lanyard, he leant against it as he curled the rest round his arm. He dug his knee into the floor as he latched onto Davies booted foot, his hand clamping down like a vice on his commanders ankle.