‘Yes.’
‘I’m Andor Toth. I’ll be coordinating with Black Aquila. May I have a word with you?’
‘We heard gunfire.’
Toth looked over his shoulder at the door as uniformed men entered the hall, men not newly roused from their beds. ‘Yes. We’ve been getting reports of live fire for the last hour.’
‘It’s close.’
‘To be expected, I’m afraid.’
‘Should we prepare?’
‘For?’
‘What do you think?’ Eric said impatiently.
‘No, Mr. Mann. We’re safe. Follow me, please.’
The two men moved to a corner table, and the smells of cooking drifted their way.
‘Ah, breakfast is on its way.’
‘Tell me what’s going on.’
‘Your mission. I want to go over a few details with you. You’ll hear all this again in a few hours, but I wanted to give you the chance to ask any questions, off the record.’ Toth pulled a tablet computer from its protective sleeve and laid it on the table. He tapped the screen a few times bringing the device to life. ‘How many men are here with Black Aquila?’
‘One-hundred-and-forty-seven operators, plus pilots, engineers and support staff.’
‘Good. That’s good. Now, listen.’ He pushed the tablet across to Eric. ‘You and your men will be taking over protective duty from the military. Currently, we’ve got three areas of control. The first is the train station. Second is Union Terrace Gardens. Third, The Arena.’ A manicured finger hovered over a map. ‘We’re trying to establish control of the hospital. I expect to hear soon from the teams sent there. At the station, we’re using trains to transport equipment and people in, and things out. The garden is a staging area. The arena, a displacement centre for refugees.’ As he spoke, the tablet displayed each location at street-view level, and then rotated to give a three-sixty view.
‘You and your men will be responsible for securing each location, deterring any civilian intrusion, and, the taking down of all infected who move against your position. You’ve been briefed on the infected?’
‘Not officially.’
Toth stabbed at the screen, and a video came to life. A semi-naked and bleeding man being restrained. Two men used long poles with cords at their ends that looped around the bleeding man’s neck like a captured dog. A third man stepped forward with a stun baton and brought the infected down.
‘The most advanced stage makes them unpredictable and uncommonly strong. They tend to gather in groups and won’t hesitate to attack. We’re still learning how to deal with them. Any questions?’
Eric stroked his chin. What he saw chilled him to the bone. He had fought fanatics, professional soldiers and militia, but nothing like this before. ‘We’re to take down the infected. What happens when we do?’
‘Restrain. Hands and legs bound, mouth-guard inserted, and put into a temporary containment centre.’
‘Temporary?’
Toth showed a still of the containment area. It looked like a circular fish tank, sunk a few feet into the ground. The captured figures didn’t look human, perhaps as Martin looked just before his death. Dark with wounds? Dark with blood? Dark with burns? Did Martin jitter like these … these people? Did he jitter with pain, hoping for death to come, and soon?
‘That’s in one of the railway tunnels, kept away from prying eyes.’
‘What are they doing?’
‘Doing their thing. They’re infected, no longer coherent.’
‘So, what do you do with them?’
‘We still hold hope that a cure can be found.’ Toth spoke blandly, only the slight accent bringing any measure of life to his words.
‘You’re lying.’
‘I’m hoping.’
‘If we’re to take these things down with tasers, why did I just hear live rounds being fired?’
‘Warning shots from the military blockades. When martial law was declared, people rushed to beat the curfew, to get out of the city. Sometimes they fire a few rounds, to turn them back.’
‘What if they don’t turn back?’
‘I assume what is necessary is done.’
Things didn’t feel right. Toth was concealing something, but he would not reveal his suspicion. Not yet.
‘Any further questions?’
‘Questions, no, but if my men walk into trouble underprepared, underequipped, heads will roll.’ He spoke as blandly as Toth.
‘Brutus said the same thing to me.’
‘You know Brutus?’
‘We go way back.’ Toth’s accent grew thicker. ‘Way back.’
He left the curious Toth to his own company.
***
A gentle rocking woke Magarth. His hand went to the taser below the covers.
‘Relax. It’s me. Gemma.’
‘You just about gave me a heart attack.’
‘Budge up.’ She moved down and slapped at his feet.
Magarth swung them from the sofa but kept the duvet over him. He was cold.
‘What do you make of all this?’
‘I’m not really in the mood to chat. I’ve had a pretty horrible few days.’
‘They were chasing you, too. The infected, I mean. Terri told me.’ Gemma didn’t once look to Magarth’s face. ‘Must have been pretty scary out there on your own.’
‘You’ve no idea what I’ve seen.’
‘You think so, huh?’ She now looked at him, her eyes showing a faint glean. ‘What if I told you one of them broke into my flat?’
Magarth moved away. ‘Did you come in contact with it? You said last night they didn’t touch you.’
‘They didn’t. Why?’
‘Did the neighbour touch you?’
‘No.’ Her reply ended on an up note as if she was thinking.
‘You sure?’
‘Course I’m sure.’
‘Blood contact. You can catch the infection and go mad like them.’
‘Look at me. I’m fine aren’t I?’
‘Did you come in contact with their blood?’ he asked more forcefully.
‘No.’ Her tone matched his.
He believed her.
‘So what’s going on with the DSD? Where are they? I can’t prove anything, but something must have happened. If individual cases were taken and isolated, why the sudden spike in cases and such a heavy response from the government?’
‘What are you? A reporter?’
‘Yes, actually. Local paper here in the city.’
‘So what is it that you want from me?’
‘I want to know why this city’s gone to hell. C’mon, give me something. Anything.’
A plan started to form in Magarth’s mind. If he made for the hospital tomorrow, having someone with him increased his chances of getting there in one piece. An extra set of eyes to watch for trouble. Maybe if he gave her a little, it would be enough to encourage her to come. She seemed hungry for the story.
‘So you think the military helicopters were heading to the hospital?’ he asked.
‘Where else? They were flying low and fast.’
‘This is completely off the record, okay?’
Gemma nodded, leaning close.
‘I heard the containment centre at the hospital was breached last night. DSD operations were suspended the same night.’
Gemma’s eyes went wide. ‘So they let these things, the infected people escape?’
‘Once containment’s breached, I doubt anyone could stop them.’ This girl would never learn how he knew. That shameful secret died with Solomon. He was still perplexed as to why Peterson would deliberately engineer the disaster.
‘Too many mistakes. How many people will be hurt, even killed now?’
Magarth shrugged. His mouth was dry, a combination of nerves and the night’s whiskey. ‘Listen, you seem keen for the story. Come with me to the hospital tomorrow. When we meet up with the military, you get to see everything as it happens, and get a scoop any reporter would relis
h.’
Gemma was silent for a moment. Magarth worried that he overplayed his hand, maybe seemed too eager.
‘What’s in it for you?’ she asked.
‘I get to go home. It’s a mix up that I’m still here in the first place. I flash my ID card to the military, they chopper me out.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘Keep your sarcasm to yourself. I have a pregnant wife waiting for me. I was supposed to be gone last night.’
Outside, a shrill scream cut off as abruptly as it began, and was followed by repeated grunts. Gemma scrambled on hands and knees to the window and slipped behind the closed curtains. Magarth followed and tugged at Gemma’s arm, pulling her low.
A group of seven figures, five men and two women, clustered around a fallen body, the snow at their feet stained. It looked purple in the morning light. They were all infected, full of edgy, fidgety movements. They desecrated the corpse using hands, feet and teeth, climbed over each other to feed. There was no brutality in the contest, just sheer determination to join the feast. Gemma’s breathing turned to gasps, but she did not look away. Magarth shook. He had come so close to ending up like the body lying out in the snow.
A female infected looked up and sniffed at the air. She let out a howl and charged across the street to another house, one with lights on. The others followed leaving behind what was left of the body. Despite the horror, Magarth thought it strange. The upper torso remained, so too, a leg and one arm, yet, they moved on to find another kill.
They threw themselves against a door. It gave way far too easily and they clambered through. Seconds later, they returned, two of them dragging a screaming woman by the hair, and a third clutched a small bundle, an untidy mop of blonde hair poking from night clothing. Enough. Magarth pulled Gemma away from the window.
‘That … that was a child.’
‘Gemma, we have to get to the hospital. Staying here is dangerous. It just takes one of those things to hear the baby upstairs and that’s us out there.’
‘How do you beat them?’
‘I don’t know.’
A silence fell between them, the screams from outside were thankfully short.
‘You’re right. We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.’
***
PC Galloway sat in the cushioned chair by the open window. The chill air mixed with the mechanical heat of the ward left him sitting in a comfortable temperature. The fresh air was welcome. Banging and shouting drifted up to meet him, distorted by the wind, or perhaps it was his imagination. He doubted what he heard. If only the weather would clear so he could see what was going on down there.
Jane returned to the room. ‘Anything?’
‘Can’t see anything for the snow. It’s like a haze that won’t lift. How’s everyone out there?’
‘As you’d expect, some better than others.’
She dragged a seat alongside, and like him, peered out into the white void. ‘I’ve never seen a winter like this before.’
‘We get them up north often enough. I’ve had to drive through eight-foot snowdrifts before. Right now, I’d happily be doing that rather than this.’
Jane’s gaze fell to the floor, her chin trembled.
‘You okay?’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she sniffed, and her hand covered her face. She wept.
He offered a comforting hand. Jane moved from her seat and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself in close, her head resting against his chest.
‘Tell me things will be alright.’
‘Everything will be fine. We just need to wait out the night.’
‘Promise me, Nick. Promise you’ll keep me safe.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’
Jane sagged further against him, her body shaking with the effort of her tears. They remained like that for a time. Then, a rupture of quick cracks and pops.
‘What was that?’
‘Don’t know. I’ve been hearing noises for the last hour. I thought it was my imagination.’
‘It sounds like …’
‘Gun fire.’
Jane sat up straight. Nick felt a strange loss. It was nice being so close to someone.
‘Oh, Nick. What does that mean?’
‘The military are here. They’ll be looking for us.’
‘Officer. You’d better come see this.’ A nurse stood at the doorway.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘There’s someone at the door.’
They hurried to one of the barricaded doors on the far side of the ward. Staff members looked up as they passed. Every face was full of worry.
‘Here. We heard knocking on the door.’
‘A survivor?’ asked Jane.
Galloway placed his hands against the wall. His listened, but the sounds of the ward behind washed away all else. He leant in, held his ear to the wall. Scraping, like nails digging and clawing seemed to travel from the door to along the wall. Then a forceful thud. The door moved a little, so too the mountain of cupboards and tables barricading them in. He jumped back.
More thuds, this time accompanied by screeches. They wanted in.
‘Nobody comes near this door,’ he ordered.
Staff and patients cried.
‘Quiet. We’re safe,’ he said, summoning a tone of confidence. ‘The door’s strong. It’ll take a lot more than that to break it down. The military’s out there. As soon as they get in, we’ll be taken somewhere safe. I promise.’ PC Galloway was racking up a number of promises he was not sure he could keep, but the door seemed to be made of the required strength. It shifted only slightly with each thud. ‘I need you all to move to the other side of the ward. They’re attracted to our noise.’
‘You really think the doors will hold?’
‘Yes, Jane. I think they will. We’ll be rescued and out of the city by tomorrow evening, you’ll see.’ Another promise.
They returned to their vigil by the window in his room.
‘You lied,’ said Jane. It was not an accusation.
He couldn’t reply.
Gunfire ripped. It was not a crack or a pop this time. They leapt from their seats. Then three quick bursts of semi-automatic fire. Another burst followed. Galloway decided it must have come from one of the floors below, another ward. The army was here. One promise kept. ‘Seems I may not have lied after all. The army must be moving through the hospital.’
‘They’re shooting!’
‘Shooting the infected.’
‘Nick, I’m scared.’
‘So am I.’
Chapter 13
Mobilisation
Dr. Holden followed the solider through the doorway into yet another hotel. All morning, he had been ferried about various parts of the airport, sitting in on briefings and providing specific information when requested. He passed reception and two soldiers standing guard, rifles in hand. Two days before, this had been Dr. Holden’s domain, his charge. Now, he had no idea who he answered to, nor the measure of his relevance.
A suited shadow popped up beside him. ‘Black Aquila Group this time, Doctor.’ The shadow slipped a beige folder into Dr. Holden’s grasp and then hurried away.
On the cover, the black stylised eagle symbol, the same design that was on the side of the Chinook that provided the airlift. There was a chance they may have picked Magarth up later in the day.
Dr. Holden stepped into a large room. Six rows was his audience.
‘Dr. Holden, I’m Ben Williamson. Glad finally to meet you.’
Williamson was a giant man, wide and tall, and his baldhead was damp with perspiration. He held a thermos in one hand, the sharp smell of coffee clung to his breath.
‘A pleasure, I’m sure,’ said Dr. Holden, pulling his hand free from the strong handshake, a very strong handshake.
The big man beckoned over a soldier in camouflage dress. ‘Doctor, this is Captain Killian. He’s the liaison officer for the Joint Command, now in charge of this operation, and us, Black Aquila.’
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The two shook hands.
‘Shall we begin?’ Williamson sipped his coffee.
‘Next to me, please, Doctor.’ Killian moved back to a table with a laptop. The lights in the room dulled. A projection system lit up the wall behind, and a map appeared. Killian stabbed a finger at the keyboard then clasped his hands behind his back.
‘I’ll make this as quick and painless as possible. You’ll have an opportunity to ask questions at the end, and I suggest you do.’ Killian cleared his throat. ‘Around three and a half weeks ago an unusual and particularly virulent outbreak was identified in Aberdeen. The World Health Organisation predicted a new influenza would sweep the globe, a pandemic. When that failed to occur, people took their fingers off the pulse. Here in Britain, the DSD set up to combat an outbreak of unusual symptoms in the main hospital here. A day or two later, the number of cases jumped from twelve confirmed to two hundred. The DSD then set up a containment centre to bring all cases into the city. As of yesterday, we lost contact. We’re still trying to work out what happened. As you all know, the city is now encircled and under martial law. Because of this, Joint Command felt the need to bring in Black Aquila and several other companies to fill roles and free up military man power.’
A rumble of conversation broke out.
‘You’ve all been provided with information regarding the infected and what to expect during an encounter. For now, I’ll give you a rundown of your duties. They’ve changed within the last hour. As you can appreciate, this is a very fluid situation. Black Aquila will be responsible for two areas. Union Terrace Gardens and also Aberdeen Royal Infirmary, or their codenames, The Grotto and Flashpoint. Army units are securing the hospital. Black Aquila will ensure no civilians make it to these restricted areas. The infected are to be brought down, citizens turned back and told to stay home, or moved to one of the displacement centres. You’ll be given constant support from the military and Joint Command, and will be working closely with the Civilian Assistance Force.’ Killian turned to Dr. Holden. ‘Doctor.’
Dr. Holden methodically covered the three stages of the infection warned his audience of the consequences of contact and exposure.
Killian interrupted. ‘There is a vaccine being synthesised as we speak, and will be available within the next two to three weeks.’
Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City Page 17
