The End Tide (Carrion Virus Book 3)

by M. W. Duncan

  Law moved away silently. Hector pushed a button on a small speaker to his right, then fiddled with a speaker on his desk. Static crackled then disappeared.

  “Ah, there we are,” said Hector, leaning toward the speaker. “Captain Mathers, for the benefit of my new companion repeat what you can see right now.”

  The sound from the speaker was grainy, machinery in the background making it grittier.

  “We’ve circled the building. The convoy was halted at the gate and came under attack from those inside the building. We’ve been depleted. I can see one sentry on the helipad.”

  “Captain, you have permission to proceed. We want our building back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hector switched the speaker off.

  “Not only were our people late in reaching the Glasgow facility, they have been prevented from taking up residence, Ryan, and with lethal consequences. I have many friends there and I do not know their fate. Whoever has done this will pay a dear price.”

  “And this Captain Mathers, he will attempt to wrestle control back, Mr. Crispin?”

  “Indeed he will, Ryan. I wanted you here to witness the price of leadership. No matter how many plans or contingencies one has, things can and do go wrong. You need to be adaptable, change and move forward as best you can, and not surrender to panic.”

  Ryan nodded, listening but not understanding the point of the lesson.

  “Do you know why I pulled you out of the induction today?”

  “To speak to me?”

  Hector’s forehead creased.

  “About something important?” Ryan added.

  “By all rights, you should be down there and handed a menial chore. That would be payment for the protection that is being offered. So, do you know?”

  Ryan shook his head. “I’ve got nothing other than that, sir.”

  “You perhaps are correct, Ryan. Yes, what I have to discuss with you is important, important to me. It’s because you are all I have left of your father.”

  “My father was dear to you. I wish I had known him more.”

  “He was brilliant and I loved him dearly. I wish he were here now. Every day I wish it with all my being. This was his dream as much as mine. You are the shard of your father I can’t help but cling to. You will be spared from the mundane tasks that await those below.”

  “Cool.”

  “Cool, Ryan?”

  “I mean thank you.”

  “You are welcome. I will find something more productive for you, something less menial. We have all the time in the world to decide how to progress.” Hector picked up a large coffee mug and sipped. His hand shook. “Let me tell you why I am keen to see the building in Glasgow taken back. Here and the sanctuary in Glasgow are part of a finely crafted network. We shall rely on each other for support in the times ahead. And, perhaps just as importantly, my daughter is there. I won’t abandon her.”

  “Your daughter, Mr. Crispin, Hector, sir?”

  ***

  A helicopter approached, coming in low. Brutus ran, leaping down the last steps of the stairs into the courtyard, and splashing through the puddles.

  “Stay in post,” he shouted. “Could be a counter attack.”

  Niall appeared at Brutus’s side, running with him. He touched his earpiece. “I can’t raise Roy.”

  The helicopter hovered above the helipad. A heavy machine gun opened up from the side. They pounded up the few steps and entered the building. Silas was gone.

  “He’s a dead man.” Brutus pulled his Glock from the holster. “You see him before I do, you shoot him.”

  They reached the stairwell and took the steps three at a time. The higher they climbed, the louder the din of the helicopter’s engines. Brutus breathed hard, grasped the banister to haul himself up that last steps. The top floor was a narrow corridor with two rooms on either side. At the far end, a metal hatch opened to the helipad, the double doors flung aside. They approached with weapons ready. The engines of the helicopter blotted out all other sounds.

  Brutus climbed the three steps out of the building and onto the platform.

  The helicopter’s rotors continued to spin. Seven men lay dead or bleeding out on the helipad. Roy lay closest to them, face down, riddled with wounds to his back and legs.

  Niall checked for a pulse. “He’s gone,” he yelled.

  The rotors slowed and slowed some more until they stopped. Someone moved in the cockpit.

  Silas Salt slipped out of the aircraft, and raised his hands in the air. Brutus rushed him.

  “No, Brutus. I saved your little kingdom. But I was too late to save your friend.”

  Brutus had his hands around Silas’s neck. “What are you talking about?”

  Silas coughed. “I saved you.” He coughed again.

  “You did this?”

  “Yes. I kept what was yours, kept it for you, and I’ve given you another mode of transport.”

  “How?”

  “I heard the helicopter, cut my bonds and came up here. Your friend was already dead, killed before they landed. I simply approached with my hands up. I’m still in my uniform.”

  “I don’t believe him.” Niall kept his weapon ready. “He was searched. Nothing to cut the ties.”

  “I’m proficient in my trade.”

  “Why?” asked Brutus.

  “Maybe I dislike how The Owls of Athena operate. Maybe I see a better chance of things working out here with you.”

  Brutus dragged Silas over the dead and to the edge of the pad. Brutus held him out over the edge. For the first time since meeting, Silas showed fear. He flailed his arms and let out a screech. The rain poured down.

  “A friend of mine is lying dead behind me and all you can do is riddle me this and that? I told you if you moved from being tied up down there, you were a dead man.”

  “If I didn’t, you’d all be dead. You need me more than ever, Brutus. You need more men. This attack has shown you that. I can help you. Please!”

  Brutus would have loved to release his grip and watch the devil of a man splatter below. But he sensed Silas may have been right. He may need him. He pulled him up and flung him to the ground.

  “Talk. And this better be good.”

  Silas crawled to his knees. “You’re right, I could have let The Owls take this place back, but the truth is I’ve been planning to get out sooner rather than later. Some of my men are in the city. Guys I’ve worked with for years. They’re fighters, like you and me. Tough men. I could bring them here. If we work together we can survive whatever the Carrion Virus and the infected throw at us. And I’m a pilot. I can fly that thing.”

  “You’re going over the edge, Silas.” Brutus picked the man up by his collar again, certain he should launch Silas over the precipice.

  “Brutus! The woman you’ve got down in the cells, she’s the daughter of one of The Owls, a very important Owl.”

  ***

  The more Jacqui and Jane talked with the Crosslys, the more Jane decided she’d made the correct decision. She liked having them around. Despite what they must have gone through, they presented as a normal family, loving and caring, conversant and interesting. Elliot avoided conversing with the adults, but chatted with Luke and Katie, and in turn the two siblings were overjoyed at the prospect of new company.

  Jacqui managed to boil some water using an old pan and the large, open fire. Drinking hot tea and watching the family relax was a welcome change of pace. They sat on the sofa together, close. Speaking in hushed tones. But the weight of the weapon in her pocket reminded her to be on guard no matter what.

  The door opened, Carter leaned in, cleared his throat. “Can I have a word?”

  “Carter,” said Jacqui, “I’ve made you some tea. Come in and join us.”

  “Maybe later,” he said, still not entering the room. “Jane, a moment.”

  Jane followed Carter and pulled the door closed behind her. She kept her hands wrapped around the mug of tea. The hallway was a frozen tomb
compared to the living room.

  “I suppose they’re staying,” he said, arms folded over the stock of his weapon.

  “They are. We couldn’t just turn them away, Carter. We wouldn’t have thrown people in need out a few months ago. We can’t do it now. They need our help. They won’t survive out there alone. What we’ve seen out there and in Aberdeen has at least prepared us for this in a small way. These people fled for their lives from something they don’t understand. They’ll die out there,” she said again.

  He shook his head. “Have you checked them thoroughly for the virus?”

  “Just an initial check.”

  Carter’s brow creased.

  “Okay, I’ll check them more thoroughly.”

  “You’ve got the fire burning too high. The smoke will be visible for miles?”

  “So we’ll dim the fire. We’re doing the best we can, Carter. You too. Come inside for a bit, warm yourself up. You’re soaked through.”

  “No. Give them a thorough inspection and twice. I’m going to sweep the perimeter again.”

  “Then I’ll come with you.”

  “You need to be in there, watching them. I don’t trust them. Eric wouldn’t either.” Carter walked away muttering to himself.

  Chapter 9

  Disperse

  Eric rounded a corner and the engine spluttered and died. The fuel gauge had hovered in the red for half an hour, and he knew the inevitable.

  “I hope you’re ready for a walk, girl?”

  Skye titled her head, listening.

  Eric pulled on his coat and gloves, secured his weapons ready for quick use and stepped out of the Land Rover. Skye followed with a jump and a shake. The amount of supplies in the rear was more than one man could carry. Eric sifted through what was there, deciding what were essentials. He guessed they had ten miles to go before reaching the army camp. They needed to make it to the camp in one journey. To stop and camp in these conditions would be a death sentence.

  Before packing the last into his backpack he took a swig of water from a bottle, removed a glove, cupped his hand and poured water for Skye. It was incredibly cold and his fingers threatened to lose all feeling. Skye drank hungrily, and Eric squeezed his fist over and again before returning it to the glove.

  The backpack couldn’t possibly hold more, and they left the safety of the Land Rover in search of the army camp. His strides sunk him knee-deep into the snowdrift. Skye trotted ahead, her legs sinking to her belly.

  “I bet you wish you were back home, hey Skye?”

  The dog turned for only a second.

  “You had a cosy bed by the fire, and good food to eat. You know where I would like to be? Back home with Jacqui and the kids. Oh, they would love you. We always talked about getting a dog. It just was never the right time. I’m glad you’re here, girl. I don’t think I would enjoy doing this alone. You’ll meet Jacqui and my kids one day soon. When this is all over. You’ll love them. And they’ll love you. They’re always fussing over dogs we pass in the street. I haven’t told you the names of my kids have I?”

  Skye’s focus was anywhere but on Eric, but that didn’t stop the one way conversation. He need it.

  “Luke and Katie. I don’t think you’d get tired of their attention. They’ll want you sleeping in their rooms, but we’ll put an end to that idea before it starts. No sleeping in the bedrooms, okay? We’ll get you a comfortable bed, and set it up right next to my arm chair. And when we go out on our walks, they won’t be anything like this. I’ve seen enough snow for a lifetime. We have tree-lined streets and parks. Do you chase balls, Skye? Yep, you’ll enjoy being part of our family.”

  Eric wiped his forehead. “We just need to keep going, girl. I don’t want to die out here. If we keep going we’ll be alright. One foot in front of the other. We can do it. Come on, Skye.”

  They kept away from the road, but were close enough to see abandoned vehicles, many buried beneath snow to the windows. The cold was taking a toll. Eric felt it in his bones, and not even the exertion of moving to combat the resistance of the snow warmed him enough to stop his teeth chattering. Skye stopped often waiting for Eric to catch up. Yes, he’d take her home to meet his family when this was all over, and make sure she had a bed as soft as the one the Ingram’s had provided her.

  A sign was nailed to a tree up ahead. Words in large red letters. FOR SAFETY AND SURVIVAL FOLLOW RED MARKERS.

  Beneath the sign, a length of red fabric flailed manically.

  “Well, we’re on the right track, Skye.” Eric drew the lapels of his borrowed coat to his chin. “Not far to go,” he said with hope.

  The weather worsened, his progress slowed, but the red markers kept appearing. He paused on the crest of a small hill, shielding his eyes from the wind and powdery snow. Skye shook herself free of snow then bit at compacted formations that hung from her hair. The last red marker he had spotted lay two miles behind. Lone trees punched up through the snow, their bare branches stretching to the sky. A low, stone wall snaked down and away from him. A farm or village must be nearby. Only a few more hours of daylight remained.

  “A roof over our heads soon,” he said to Skye.

  The dog blinked away the snow falling, as if suggesting she didn’t believe him.

  “Well, there better be.”

  They reached the wall. A thin trench followed the line of the wall suggesting the path well-trodden recently. Skye’s ears pricked up.

  Eric threw himself down, eating a face full of snow, and pulled his weapon free. “Down, Skye.”

  Two figures clad in white were on the summit and moving downhill. Their attire rendered them near invisible and they seemed to glide on the snow, moving far quicker than Eric could in these conditions.

  Skye let out a low growl. The two figures held their position, one scanning downhill with binoculars. For an impossibly long time, their gaze seemed to lock onto Eric. He pushed himself further into the snow, rocking his body to dig himself further depth.

  The two figures moved again and fast. They were on skis. Eric aimed his firearm. Skye growled again. They pulled up a hundred feet before Eric.

  “Ho! Survivor!” said one, and raised a hand in greeting. He had a hunting rifle with a long barrel slung over his shoulders. “We’re here to help.”

  The other said, “You won’t need your gun. You’re safe here.” It was a female’s voice.

  The wind whistled and whipped up snow.

  “I’m looking for a place for the night,” shouted Eric. “You know anywhere nearby?”

  The man pulled his scarf down, exposing his mouth. “You’re looking for the military camp? Of course you are, why else would you be out here?”

  “The markers ended awhile back. I’ve been stumbling around out here. Are we close?”

  “Can we approach?”

  Eric waved them forward and stood. He kept his AR-15 to hand. Skye wagged her tail then growled softly.

  “Stay, girl.”

  “My name is Arvid and this is my wife Camilla. We’re from the military camp.” A Scandinavian accent.

  “I’m Eric Mann.” His body shook with the cold, his teeth continued to chatter.

  “You’ve been out in this for some time. And who is your companion?” Camilla tapped her leg, beckoning Skye to her.

  Skye hesitated, her tail wagging. She was obeying Eric’s order, but keen to meet their new companions.

  “We’ve been having issues with the markers disappearing,” said Arvid. “The wind.”

  Eric didn’t respond. Skye was still at his side.

  “My wife and I sweep this area every day. You’re not the first to be lost out here. Sometimes it’s too late.”

  “We shouldn’t linger out here,” said Camilla.

  “Is it far?”

  “A half-hour.”

  Skye’s tail wagged quickly. She seemed to be telling Eric not to fear these people, and Eric knew he had little choice.

  “Go on, girl,” he said, and Skye headed off to
say her hellos.

  Camilla petted the dog and spoke sweetly to her.

  “Her name’s Skye,” he explained.

  “Oh, and you’re as pretty as a sky, Skye,” Camilla crooned. Skye had found a new friend. She walked in circles with her excitement.

  “Can you tell me a little about the camp?” said Eric.

  “Of course,” said Arvid. “We can talk as we travel. This way.”

  Eric followed them back up the hill.

  “Do you know much about the outbreak?” asked Arvid.

  “Some.”

  “My wife and I were caught up in it long before the media warned everyone. Luckily, we were swept up with a multinational military force. They were establishing this camp and had orders to collect survivors and hold them until arrangements could be made to move them to safe zones. And here we are. Alive.”

  “How many people have been taken in?”

  “A few hundred. We were broadcasting the position but our equipment was damaged. We’ve put signs around the roads hoping to draw people to us.”

  “And the safe zones?”

  “We’ve yet to hear about them. For now, we’re well supplied. The weather is our ally. It keeps the infected away for the most part. Oh, they’ll chase someone through the snow without hesitation and it barely slows them down, but we’ve noticed a decrease in strays coming out this way when the weather is particularly bad.”

  “What about other groups of survivors? There must be others? Not just here but in the rest of the country.”

  “Until recently, yes. We were in communication with them. But the cities are now lost. The advice to stay put doomed so many.”

  “Do you have family?” asked Camilla. Her eyes were blue and caring.

  “Yes. I left them before things became this bad. They had a safe house to get to.”

  “Have you heard from them?” asked Arvid.

  “No.”

  “I am sure they are well,” said Camilla.

  ***

  The camp was not as Eric had imagined. From a distance it was little more than a cluster of trees, barely deserving the description of a wood. It sat atop a gentle hill. Smoke clung above the treetops. Far from being a fully operational fenced and secure military installation, he found a group of survivors carving out a corner of hope. Arvid held up a red scarf as they approached.