Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

  The canopies billowed out from behind them, grey-green clouds of silk drifting above as lines pulled taught, humming in the air like a storm of bees. Colinson stared downwards between his feet, the harsh, grey gravelled roof of the tower block seemed hazy in the dying heat of the day.

  Tugging on the toggle in his hand he banked left, the parachute bunching up slightly as air was pushed deeper into the left side, the harness tugged into his right side as he was spun in the air drifting in his newly chosen direction.

  His eyes fixed on the empty space in front of the access doorway and the ventilation ducts. A sudden thump was all the warning he had as he lifted his vision from the roof below and fixed it ahead of him.

  Hitting the quick release clips on his parachute, Colinson found himself flailing for a second as his body was forced to rapidly readjust to the sudden loss of support. The lanyards whipped over his shoulders as the synthetic canopy of the parachute tore free from his harness and drifted towards the edge of the roof. Dragging the gun off his chest, he surged toward the door. Raising his hand he waved the team forwards, pulling his rifle tight to his shoulder he reached forwards grasping the handle of the door tightly.

  'On three we hit the stairs and don't stop till we reach Team Two, understood?'

  Lifting his hand away from the door he held his hand up, fingers splayed apart, slowly ticking down from three to one, snapping his fist closed he reached down and wrenched the door open and shot through it racing forwards as the LED under barrel torch cast a white circle of light in front of him. He saw the soft flashes reflecting off the dull concrete around him as the other men followed him in, snapping a look over the railings, he gazed down the stairwell as he stepped forward.

  'Okay, I want two of you on the door here, make sure nothing, and I mean nothing, makes it out that door, is that understood?'

  ****

  Davies let his side arm drop, the sprung lanyard snapped taut as the pistol fell. The cold, lifeless lump of steel and plastic bounced against his thigh as he dragged his knife from the securex sheath on his vest. Glancing around him quickly he saw he wasn't alone.

  Jones, Hamilton and Baxter were all standing with their blades in hand, shaking his head in bitter defeat he lashed out, snaking his hand round the Infected's head and twisting viciously watching as his knife dug into its flesh, slicing deeply into the side of the creature's skull.

  It dropped like a discarded sack of potatos tripping up several behind it. Stabbing downwards, he drove his blade repeatedly into the skulls of the writhing things in front of him, watching as the spasmodic movements died, the tempered carbon steel blade driving through the virus-soaked grey matter as if it wasn't there. With one last heaving tug, he yanked the blade free.

  The feet of the Infected tapped spasmodically as the blade brushed against nerve endings on its passage to freedom.

  Colinson, and the rest of the rapid response team, sprinted down the stairs. His mind raced as he ran through what could possibly await them, he grimaced subconsciously as he settled on the options his mind threw forth; none of which he liked.

  His eyes flicked left, quickly reading the floor number as they flashed by in a blur of blue and white paint. They flew down the stairs as if hell itself was pursuing them. Colinson's rifle snapped and fired three single shots, the men behind broke stride for just a second as they tried to register what he had fired at.

  Their question was soon answered as three dead Infected tumbled past them, plummeting down the stairway ahead of them. Numbers flashed past brilliantly white against the greying concrete of the walls, slamming into a door, Colinson sprinted up the hall, his rifle barking like a muffled dog as he fired round after round.

  The astonished men following him hopped and dodged as body after body tumbled into their path single holes drilled through their heads. Skidding to a stop, Colinson held up a closed fist the radio beacon coordinates had put the team on the seventeenth floor, the door in front of which he now stood. Nodding sharply he smashed the door open, rolling round, the doorway as Sheperd, Clarkson, and Brooks stormed past him their light machine guns raised and pulled tight.

  Gloved hands clasped the front pistol grips as they stormed forwards, machine guns chattering. Bodies fell in droves as the three men moved forwards, filling the hallways with a wall of hot copper coated lead.

  The smell of blood and shit filled the corridor as the bodies began to void in the final throws of death.

  'Move it, pin 'em to the fucking walls.' Colinson ducked low, the door to his right crashing into the wall as an Infected launched itself at him. He caught the pustule faced psycho around the waist and roared as he charged forwards into the open room.

  A crash of shattering glass echoed through the room as he sent its screaming form sailing into the warm embrace of the evening air.

  'Chew on that, you fuck.' A crash of twisting metal and exploding glass punctuated the air as cries of alarm drifted up to him from below. He smirked slightly as he spun, dropping to one knee as another Infected charged him, sliding his blade from its sheath, he sent it up through the woman’s chin, driving the double edged blade deep into her brain. A soft squelch reached his ears as the tip shot through the top of her head. Wrenching it free, he kicked her away, letting her body fall to the floor as he slid the blade into its sheath and raised his rifle once more.

  29

  Davies stared hard as he watched the Infected begin to judder and fall away from the door above them.

  'What the fuck now'

  Stabbing his blade forwards, he felt the knife slice clean through the skull of the Infected in front of him. He chuckled darkly as he watched it go cross-eyed staring at the carbon steel blade jutting out from its forehead. Ripping the blade free, he pushed the Infected away from him. Kicking out, he sent another Infected crashing into the wall.

  The staccato chatter of automatic gunfire began to fill the room above them as bodies began to rain down upon them, the team danced backwards, clambering on the still forms of their former besiegers. Staring up from the floor below, Hamilton locked eyes with a very welcome face.

  'Aye up lads, heard you had a bit of trouble.'

  Hamilton grinned, shaking his head slightly.

  'Just a wee bit mate, just a wee bit.'

  Woodwrow chuckled as he lowered himself through the hole and dropped to the floor, purposely ignoring the fact it was over a pile of corpses. He was, as were they all, resigned to the nightmares that plagued them, and the psychological reviews they went through each month. Glancing down the hall beside him Woodwrow chuckled. A haphazard mass of chairs and furniture filled the closed doorway. He cast his eye over the blood covered sofa and the twisted remains of the flat's former occupant.

  'I know what you're thinking, but that bought us God knows how much in spare ammunition, if we hadn't we,' Davies pointed between him and Woodwrow, 'would not be having this conversation.' Woodwrow shook his head and turned, watching as Colinson and the rest made their way into the room.

  Colinson barked out several short commands to the remaining R.R.T members as he walked over to Davies, holding his hand out, he smiled tightly at the Englishman.

  'Good Job Davies, is the rest clear?'

  Davies nodded slowly.

  'Yeah, it is, from the ground, up to the sixteenth.'

  Davies waved his arm at the pile around them.

  'There's the sixteenth, anything above, well it's anyone’s guess.'

  Nodding, Colinson turned to Woodwrow.

  'Call through to Kerr and Williams tell them to hold position while we clear the rest of the building. Shepherd.' Colinson watched as the soldier dropped the legs of the corpse he had been dragging snapping to attention. 'Sir.'

  'Cut the formality, run point and get Team Two topside, then double back to us.'

  The former Para nodded and turned clambering back over the pile of dead. The stench was horrendous as the putrefied contents of the corpses began to seep its way out in a bid to gain freedom fro
m its plague infested prison.

  It was the one and only time the men were glad for the uniforms they wore, the cuffs, collars and seams on their uniforms were entirely water tight, nothing got in or out. Although it led to chaffing and smelling like a cheap burger after a mission every one of them conceded that it was better that than ending up just another tango.

  30

  Broadhead Barracks

  Davies rocked back on his chair, the hard plastic creaking slightly in protest. Sighing softly he closed his eyes and let the silence roll over him. It hung heavy in the air killing any conversation as it moved through them and yet, to all present, it was strangely comforting. No moan could be heard. No ragged shuffling or slapping bare footed run. No sound of any kind broke the tar-like silence that had settled upon the mess hall. Nothing that is, except for the soft hum of the central air conditioning unit above them.

  Staring up at the ceiling, he began to feel his mind drift as he watched the small porous holes in the ceiling tiles slip in and out of focus. Casting his mind back he mulled over what had, in his eyes, been a skin of the teeth escape from the tower block three days ago.

  ****

  Their feet pounded against the dry, dust covered concrete of the corridor. Ragged breathing echoing off the vacant walls, the sixteenth floor was gone, left behind them filled with the corpses of the deceased.

  Glancing behind them, Davies caught the vaporous shapes of the woe-begotten souls desperate for his living flesh. Tearing his eyes away from them, he carried on, urging those around him to push forwards. Twisting, he smashed open a set of double doors his shoulder screaming in pain as it collided with the reinforced fire doors.

  The suits covering their bodies like a second skin were slick with sweat, scouring their skin raw as they sprinted for their lives. Colinson cast a glance to his left, the grim set of Davies' features caught him slightly off guard, he had expected to see panic or fear dancing on the faces of Davies and his team but as he cast his eyes to each man's face all he saw was anger and steeled determination.

  The rattle of machine guns made Davies' and Colinson's heads turn, casting their gaze behind them they clasped eyes on Sheperd and Clarkson, both men rapidly back-peddling as they fired their weapons from the hip. Sweat running off them in torrents as they fought to keep their guns trained on the corridor behind the fleeing men.

  Davies watched the consternation bloom on the faces of those around him, all had the same anger filled glint in their eye, all of them disgusted with themselves. How could they have not only been routed from the building by this horde of shambling Infected but on top of it also walk blindly into what was obviously an ambush.

  The thoughts swirled through Davies' mind, he couldn't understand it. The place had been cleared, he had checked it himself, so where the hell had they come from. Shaking his head in frustration he shoved the thoughts from his mind as he pushed onwards, slamming shoulder first through another set of doors, the eight year old girl in his grasp squealing in fright as the doors passed by her, mere millimetres from her face.

  ****

  Davies jumped slightly as he felt a hand on his shoulder, snapping his head around his eyes swam as he forced them to rapidly focus on the face no more than two feet from his own. Locking his gaze on to the warm smiling eyes above him, he took stock of the man before him.

  'Come on. We need a chat.'

  Baker reached out and dragged Davies' booted feet from the table as several of John's team mates watched the pair leave. Looking to one another each man saw the same quizzical look dancing in the eyes of the other, as if drawn by some other worldly force they turned as one looking to Davies still untouched pint swirling slightly in the glass, the amber liquid bounced from the soft rocking motion of the table, Jones watched it for a second as the golden carbonated liquid kissed the inner rim of the pint glass before rolling back down into the confines of its prison. Casting his gaze across the room he watched as Baker lay a hand on Davies shoulder as they simultaneously pushed open the doors and left.

  31

  'So, what happened John?'

  Davies sighed as he collapsed onto the bench in front of the statue of the kneeling soldier, his eyes caught the row of small brass plaques, it had been a long time since he had sat here. A small sardonic smirk graced his lips as he gazed at his reflection. 'Honestly?'

  Baker nodded as he sat next to the man. 'Yeah, your words, not some bullshit report.'

  Davies nodded, sighing he ran a hand over his face as he dragged his charcoal grey beret from his head and slowly fed it through his fingers the felt rasping slightly as it grated on the calloused skin of his hands.

  'Don't know, it doesn't make sense.'

  Baker leant back against the bench watching Davies' every move.

  'What doesn't?' Baker's Welsh accent softened the edges of his words.

  Davies gripped his beret tight in his hands as he raised his face to the dying rays of the evening sun.

  'The whole damned situation, we had cleared the whole place, only,' he paused as he searched his memory for the exact figure, 'three floors remained unchecked.' Baker kept quiet as he listened to Davies talk.

  'The R.R.T had left Kerr and Williams guarding the door to the roof.'

  Baker nodded affirming that Davies not only had it right, but he was also paying attention, taking a breath Davies ploughed on.

  'We had followed Sheperd from the room on the sixteenth. The corridor outside the room we were cornered it was a slaughter house.'

  Davies shook his head slightly as his eyes glazed over for a second before shaking the memory clear.

  'Anyway, as I said. We followed him up to the nineteenth after dropping back and picking up the kids Jones had found before we even caught sight of another Infected, although,' his brow furrowed as he brought the memory kicking and screaming from the depths of his mind, 'something was different. They didn't seem so, for lack of a better term, brain dead as the others had, they seemed smart, not just primal, or even animal, I am talking me or you smart here.'

  Davies glanced at Baker. The man's eyes swam with questions.

  'As I said, they looked intelligent, hell they were intelligent, Sheperd aimed at one and it dodged the fucking barrel. Sheperd adjusted, the thing moved again, eventually he just hosed the corridor. Over a hundred rounds he laid down, peppering the corridor before the fucker and the six others behind it dropped.'

  Baker sighed pinching the bridge of his nose, this confirmed it and he didn't want to admit it, but it scared the hell out of him.

  'John.'

  Davies' mouth snapped shut, biting his half finished sentence clean in two.

  'Staff?'

  Baker slumped forwards; slightly resting his elbows on his knees as held out the manila folder in his hand, Davies reached out and flipped it open, flicking through the pages as he skimmed the contents.

  'Bollocks.' Davies uttered as he snapped the folder shut, Baker snorted as his stifled laughter threatened to break free.

  'My words exactly.' Baker pushed himself to his feet motioning for Davies to follow. Both men walked side by side away from the statue, they walked in silence, their feet thumping on the cobbled pathway as they slowly trudged through the small memorial garden, the dying rays of the day warming their tired bones before Baker finally broke the silence.

  'The team before your lot, S.A.U Temple...' Davies cocked an eyebrow at the name, Baker shrugged as he answered Davies sceptical look.

  'They picked the name, anyway they were sent into Africa two years ago; we thought at the time it was a level two or three at best. The Americans had sent in a team from Division Thirty-Six.'

  Davies was surprised at the mention of the unit, thinking them nothing but a rumour. 'Basically our American twin.' Davies nodded silently as they carried on walking.

  'Any way, the Division Thirty-Six team and S.A.U Temple managed to retrieve samples from several Infected before the place was demolished. 'Only two men, out of the twenty-three tha
t went in, made it out alive, three of the Division Thirty-Six men, and the entire S.A.U team, were wiped out.

  The third Division member died during extraction. The mission was a cluster fuck from start to finish. We managed to piece things together from what we learnt after the two American agents were debriefed. 'It seems that the viral strain has mutated, the progenitor virus is still out there somewhere.

  'I know I sure as shit didn't encounter it in Iraq and Afghanistan, but from what we gleaned when we tested the samples we got from my encounters, and those of the American agents is that it appears to mutate on the genetic level as it jumps from host to host.'

  Davies held a slightly puzzled look as mulled over what was being said.

  'So, no two Infected, shufflers, walkers, whatever you want to name them, are ever the same,' Davies quizzed. Looking at Baker, he watched as his commander shook his head.

  'They are though as you said, getting smarter. You saw that three days ago with how the Infected reacted to Sheperd. 'Despite this there are degrees of the mutation still appearing in even the most base of the carriers. 'It seems as if the carrier itself is responsible for how the virus changes within it. For example, and this is just my own thoughts here, if you had a base infection in, say the local pizza guy, stereotyped for this example, you know dumb as a post eighteen year old?'

  Davies nodded as he motioned for Baker to continue.

  'When he Infected the next person he come across, say the local fitness freak, the virus in the delivery guy would have gone from a basic shuffler to what it sees as a primed killing machine. The runner would be quick, agile and very effective at dispersing the virus rapidly, and as if that wasn't enough, it appears to be adopting these changes permanently. Each of the four samples we tested were completely different to its predecessor.'