Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected

by Ricky Cooper

  Davies suppressed a shudder as he took in what Baker was telling him. He paled slightly as a thought crossed his mind. Turning to Baker, he spoke.

  'What else could it do to the human form?'

  Baker shrugged. 'The guys in the lab are running some tests, my contacts in the U.S safe zones have sent over some death row lifers who have given themselves over for testing.

  'It's all legal they signed off on everything with complete knowledge of what they were in for, I'll let you know once I know any more. We have a specialist working with us, she was a key player in the Russian team and was one of the discovers of this mutation pattern.'

  Davies nodded, despite being slightly put off by the idea. The two men walked in silence as they moved through the small memorial garden towards the parade square. The shouts and cries drifting to them causing, both men to smile slightly.

  Passing through the rose covered awning Davies and Baker looked down the softly stepped incline to the ranks of new recruits lined up on the hardened tarmac of the drill square.

  'So chief who we got this time?'

  It had been over a year since Davies and the others had been through the slightly surreal selection process. A soft smile ghosted across his face as he looked down upon the people below, his eyebrows rose slightly in consternation as his gaze alighted upon the curved forms of eighteen women.

  Turning his gaze to Baker he watched as a sly grin bloomed upon his commander's face.

  'Seriously?'

  Baker's grin grew ever wider as he looked back at Davies, the consternation and surprise danced within him in equal measure. Turning his gaze back to the groups before them, he shrugged. His shoulders rising and falling in a limp display of derisive acceptance, he knew this wasn't going to go down very well with the other lads, but he was surprised to find that those in the pit before them seemed strangely calm about the female presence.

  'So where will they be in the teams.'

  Baker chuckled, as Davies' question drifted by. Turning around, he rested his back against the brick wall leaning into it, shifting his weight slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows, and carefully mulled over his reply.

  'Mostly, from what I can figure, they will be drop pilots and close air support, although from what I have heard and read, they may very well end up in country with the rest of the men.'

  Davies snorted slightly as a tired grin tugged at his lips, sighing he shook his head.

  'Oh well, had to happen sooner or later'

  Baker cocked an eyebrow at him.

  'What?'

  Davies chuckled.

  'Women in combat, the Americans have unofficially had them in the field for years ever since the invasion back in 2001 and even before then, so it was inevitable they would end up with us, still doesn't mean we'll drop the preconceived notions over night.'

  Baker shook his head a dull chuckle rising from his gullet as he set a hand on Davies' shoulder.

  'Me and you buddy are the last of a dying breed, we see women as people who need to be protected so they can fulfil the role of carer and mother to the new generation of mankind, but alas, more and more of them are striving to equalise the playing field, and in my own way, I admire them for it, but I, like you, am an old school soldier. Despite that, it's going to be a simple case of acceptance, and let it be; if they want in, who are we to stop them.'

  Baker cast a sidelong look at Davies as he spoke, gauging the man's reaction, through it all, he had seemed unnervingly neutral to what Baker had said. Suppressing the urge to call Davies out on the subject, he ploughed on.

  'Although, from what I've heard, some of them down there, are just as bad, if not worse than us.'

  Davies was once more silent as he contemplated the possibilities.

  'Women in combat.' He muttered to himself, closing his eyes he sighed.

  'The Russians do it, the Spanish do it, the Americans, and God knows who else, so why not us?'

  Baker watched as Davies turned and walked away, a tired shake of his head, all the answer Baker required. He knew Davies would accept the changes, all they needed now was to know if the girls had what it took to face the threat head on. They had already proven they had what it took to make the selection program; all they had to do was prove they had the gall to face the Infected in the field.

  Baker smiled to himself as he mulled over the situation.

  This was going to get interesting, and he for one, was looking forward to what was coming. He caught up to Davies, a light hand on the man's shoulder stopping him in his tracks, he let the grin fade, his features darkening to a lighter shade of grey as he spoke.

  'You and the boys are on a week's leave effective immediately, I'm pulling in one of the training teams to take my place on team one and rotating them in, your lot have been on the razor's edge for the past nine months, you need a break.'

  Davies opened his mouth to protest just as Baker raised his hand motioning for Davies to listen.

  'It's not an order from me, but the unit psychologist. He's been getting reports from other teams, some of them pretty severe and doesn't want to run the risk of any problems arising on our end. So far, they have only been from the clean up teams and sweeper units.

  'Nothing has shown up on our end yet, but still, as he has said, and I have to agree.' your lot have been under extreme stress for too long. So shut up, pack up and take a fucking holiday for Christ sakes, go get drunk and laid. It will do you some good.'

  Davies shook his head, resigned to the fact that he was being forced to take a break, Baker grinned at him as he laid his hand on Davies' shoulder.

  'Good lad.'

  Pressing a fifty pound note into Davies' hand he chuckled. 'Have a round on me. Now go on, sod off before something happens to ruin both our days, wouldn't want the good doctor left waiting would we.' Davies stopped mid step a look of utter shock creeping across his features as Baker laughed. 'John you should know by now that nothing can be kept secret in a place like this, gossip travels faster than the common cold in barracks.' Davies smiled, a soft chuckle finding its way to his lips as he turned and walked away once again.

  32

  The anticipation ran through them like water through a sieve. The ninety-two men and eighteen women stood assembled on the drill square. The officer stood before them back straight and rigid as he stared down his nose at the assembled rows of prospective recruits.

  'So.'

  His nasal voice grating on their already frayed nerves was like a saw over steel mesh.

  'I am to assume that all of you wish to join this illustrious unit, this denizen of warriors, this cornucopia of elite battle hardened gods of war.'

  Baker sighed as he walked across the square unnoticed by anyone except the nasal-toned officer on the dais. Several thoughts vied for precedence in Baker's mind as he ran through how many times this particular piece of rhetoric had been trundled out to prospective recruits.

  The man was gesturing wildly now, his fervour in full flame as he brayed to the heavens, spittle flying forth as he practically screamed out his devotion to the force these people wanted in to. As suddenly as he began, he stopped; a heavy muscular hand clamping onto his shoulder, his words cut off mid-flow like a tap shut off at the source.

  'Ahh, Mr Baker how nice of you to grace us with your presence.'

  Baker smiled tightly, manoeuvring the man before him so he was pushed off centre stage.

  'Mr Colinson, you can be a right tit at times, you know that.'

  A soft ripple of dampened laughter rolled through the crowd before them, grinning like a wolf, Colinson turned to them all and bowed low.

  'Thank you for your applause, I will be here all week.'

  The laughter redoubled as Baker pinched the bridge of his nose. A deep sigh echoed up from within.

  'Why was I ever paired with you?' Baker muttered, keeping the pitch low enough to avoid it being picked by the microphone in front of him.

  'Because Baker. They wanted someone here who
could counter balance the seriousness you impose. Yes, I am an officer, tactician, and highly trained killer but I am also a skilled psychologist, and things like this help the recruits to find levity after the stress of training, and sets their minds to a point where they can fully process everything that has happened.

  'I wasn't here when Temple were deployed; if I had been maybe things could have gone differently.'

  Baker shot a concealed warning glare at Colinson, unnoticed by the throng of eager soldiers, it was more than noticed by Colinson who simply smiled in return and nodded. Turning back to those before him, he bowed once more, rising to his full height he grinned as he spoke.

  'Now I leave you in the capable hands of Mr Baker here, he is a little grumpy at the moment, so I suggest listening.'

  Turning on his heel, Colinson made a swift retreat, his path paved by the echoing chuckles and stifled laughter of the one hundred and ten men and women he left in his wake.

  ****

  Baker stood, clipboard in hand, a small grin washed across his features as he was assaulted by a minuscule sense of deja vu.

  'Okay, so you lot made it this far, congratulations.' Several of the crowd in front smiled at the supposed praise.

  'Still don't mean shit, you faced the Dead Box; big deal, you did the tour in hell, woopady fucking doo, you still haven't proven to me that you deserve to be here. So, as a result of this, we are mixing things up a bit this time round.

  'You're going to be split into teams of eleven and sent out on probationary missions, when I call you out, file off and collect your gear.'

  Nine minutes later, Baker was standing in front of ten teams of slightly perplexed but eager looking recruits.

  'Team One, step forwards.'

  The gaggle of soldiers moved as one, crisply marching up in file.

  'Ghana.' He barked by a way of a gruff statement of their destination.

  'We, by which I mean you, are being tasked by the current administration to lend a helping hand to their military forces, you will be tasked with aiding with the control and suppression of the rising tide of Infected that have been seen in their general populace of late.

  'Thus far they have done a fairly admirable job of keeping it wrapped up, but their president, whose name for the life of me I can't pronounce, has formally begged our assistance.

  'So on that note, Shaw here are the orders.'

  He handed the seven-inch thick manilla folder to Rufus Shaw, the twenty-six year old Grenadier guardsman nodded as his hand closed around the bulging file. He locked eyes with Baker as a small smile teased the edges of his mouth, the sudden realisation of what he was being tasked with hit home as he struggled to suppress the grin that vied for freedom.

  An unspoken confirmation filtered through his mind as he tucked the folder under his arm.

  'Waited too long to prove I can do this.'

  Nodding, he stepped back a single pace and saluted crisply, pleased to have it returned unconditionally.

  'Now go and get it done although you will be supported by Teams Three and Eight, seeing as you have worked with their cell leaders before, and its too big of an area to task to one team.'

  Baker waited until the three units had filed off to carry on.

  'Right, Team Two, you're heading to Dover and Calais, to support the UK border force. We have been getting increased reports from our French allies, and the Border teams, of Infected Illegals trying to, and in some cases gaining, entry to these fair shores.

  'You're going in and making things a bit more “pro active”. We have been given free reign by the government to enact any safeguards we deem necessary, and believe me this is one of them, you're to link up with a mister Robert Harding, he is in charge of the Dover to Calais link.'

  He handed over the sheaf of papers to the acting head of Team Two. Watching the man's reaction, Baker felt a slight pang when he saw the trembling in the man's hands and the look of frightened frailty haunting his already world weary eyes.

  “He ain't going to last, Good thing I gave them a soft target.” Baker thought to himself as he watched the team move off. Shaking his head slightly Baker looked at the next folder.

  'Right, Teams, Four, Five, Six, and Nine, you're going into Libya under joint command of Corporal Patterson, and SAU Team One second commander Sharp, he will be in overall command of the mission, with Corporal Patterson as his Second.'

  Baker saw the look of dejection pass over Patterson's face as he saw his one chance at really proving himself fly past him. Deciding then and there to settle the matter and boost Patterson's now flagging morale and standing in the team, he spoke up on the issue.

  'Patterson, so you know, it is not because we deem you unfit for the task of commanding the large unit, it is down to the sensitive nature of the strike zone. Libya is already in turmoil with Gadafi's reign being overthrown by the NTC or National Transitional Council, and the National Libyan Army or the Free Libyan Army; they operate under both names and seem to jump between the two with annoying regularity.

  'It is common knowledge that they have effectively seized control from him, but they are still warring with his remaining military forces across the state; so we are sending you in with Sharp as the team C.O, to ensure the NLA/FLA take you seriously as he has experience in that particular region. That, is the only reason.'

  The twenty-four year old Corporal seemed mollified by the statement; although Baker could tell it still stung to know he was being overshadowed. Nodding, Patterson took the proffered folder and turned smartly on his heel, the rest of the teams falling in behind him as he marched away.

  Baker absently scratched the back of his neck as he scanned the clipboard in his hand. Sniffing momentarily; he flipped the page over and scanned it quickly, taking in every detail possible before looking back up at the twenty-two remaining men.

  'Right, looks like we have trouble in Jersey and the Isle of Wight, Team Ten you take Jersey, Seven you get the Isle of Wight.

  No specifics are known and the police on site have been trying to contain it themselves, and from what we can tell have managed to stall it for now. So get going and get it done.'

  The men filed off, Baker turned and walked away after he distributed the two remaining folders to the team leaders, the soft tapping of booted feet echoed behind him, drawing his attention from the thoughts plaguing his mind.

  Roberts skidded to a halt beside Baker, leaning on his knees slightly as he dragged in a deep juddering breath. Pointing back the way he had just sprinted, he began to speak. 'Big bust up between Mariani and Colins, they're tearing each other to ribbons, Colins made a sly remark about the IRG and the IRA or some bollocks, you know how he can get. All of a sudden Mariani is up and Colins flew across the room, they've been going at it for about three minutes now.'

  Breathlessly, Roberts let his head hang as he tried to stabilise his breathing. Watching Baker's quickly disappearing form he shook his head, smirking wryly as he took off jogging after the fading visage of his commander.

  'I have really gotta quit smoking.'

  33

  Broadhead

  Biological Studies Division

  Lab One

  Anastasia sat in her chair staring out the window of her test lab, the memories of her date with Davies flitting through her head. The floor to ceiling reinforced glass wall spanned the width of the building, she sighed as she reached down and spun her chair to the right, turning through one hundred and eighty degrees and retreating back into her laboratories inner sanctum.

  Several pieces of equipment whirred and spun as she passed, vials of blood floating in an alkali base, spun rapidly in the FALC F205, as they were slowly separated out into workable parts. She sat watching the vials revolve, letting her eyes drift out of focus slightly as her mind slowly calmed the storm within. Shaking herself out of the fugue, she moved on, picking up a small glass slide as she approached her personal workstation.

  She stared into the Euromex Oxion microscope and watched the sam
ple of blood in the slide slowly coalesce. The microbial viral parasite had all but consumed the cells in the sample, the viscous remains no more than a smear of coagulated paste on the glass slide.

  Anastasia sighed in resignation as she pulled the slide free and rolled over to her in-lab incinerator, lifting the small metal plate, the miniature wall of heat smacked into her, making her gasp at the sudden assault on her senses, before she dumped the slide into the roiling wall of flame. A deep sense of regret welled up within her as she rolled further into the lab, the wheelchair beneath her moving seamlessly on the titanium bearings as pushed herself towards the waiting man.

  Staring up into the eyes of the convict before her, she saw nothing but resignation and could not help but wonder what had made a man fall to such a level where he was willing to have his very being destroyed.

  'Are you sure you wish to do this?'

  Without saying a word, he slid his arm through the six-inch wide hole in the high-strength clear Lexan sheet and closed his fist rapidly, making his veins rise to the surface.

  'Just do it.' His heavy Georgian accent turning the words as he spoke.

  'Very well.'

  Anastasia felt along his forearm as she searched for a vein, her latex gloved fingers sliding over the tattooed forearm of the “Volunteer,” probing gently around the base of his inner elbow and wrist. Finally finding one large enough, she briskly inserted the needle and depressed the plunger.

  The man grimaced and retracted his arm once she had pulled the razor tipped hollow tube from his now condemned form. 'I do not know what will happen to you, or if it will be painful. I can only say thank you, and that what you will be going through will help a lot of people in the future. I can only hope this brings some small measure of comfort to whatever time you have left on this planet.'