Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City

by Duncan, M. W.

  He shot a sideward look at Dr. Holden, as defined as a bullet, silencing the correction ready to spill from the doctor’s mouth.

  ‘Your rules of engagement are to use reasonable force. Your safety is utmost. Tasers, stun-rods and brute force are your best options. When you bring one down, they must be secured, hands and feet, and a mouth-guard applied. As the doctor warned, do not allow direct contact between yourself and the infected. Wear the provided rubber gloves at all times. Questions?’

  ‘So what do we call these things?’ someone asked. ‘Zombies?’

  ‘Infected, is the general term,’ answered Dr. Holden.

  ‘Eric Mann, Doctor.’

  ‘Mr. Mann?’

  ‘How are children to be dealt with?’

  ‘The same as an adult.’

  ‘Pregnant women?’

  ‘Again, the same.’

  ‘Disabled?’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Mann, and the disabled.’

  ***

  Eric blocked out the questions and answers that followed. He flipped through a set of laminated A4 sheets, full of bullet points, bolded words, underlined phrases, images, all detailing symptoms and behaviours. Nothing Dr. Holden hadn’t covered.

  ‘You’re deep in thought,’ said Williamson.

  ‘I’m glad we’re not guarding the displacement centre. I don’t see how we’d have had the resources or expertise to work that effectively.’

  ‘How’d you know about that? Brutus?’

  ‘Brutus,’ Eric admitted.

  Brutus stood at the back of the room, leaning against the wall. It was as if he knew he was being spoken of. He shrugged at Eric.

  Question time was completed.

  ‘Mr. Mann.’ The doctor was by his side.

  ‘Dr. Holden, that was quite a speech.’

  ‘Taken seriously, I hope.’

  ‘As required.’

  ‘There’s something I’d like to ask of you. You’ll be heading to the hospital later today, Mr. Mann. I’m told I’ll be on the radio, the voice in your ear so to speak, should you need me.’

  ‘It makes sense to have you available.’

  ‘Yes. When we were airlifted out, one of my staff was left behind. A DSD staff member, Tim Magarth. He shouldn’t have been left. Please keep a watch for him and get him out of the city. His wife is pregnant. He needs to go home.’

  ‘Like most here, I’m sure.’

  ‘Please, Mr. Mann.’

  Eric looked at the briefing pack, a picture of a woman strapped to a hospital bed, her face contorted, and teeth bared and ready to strike. He threw the file onto an empty chair. Time to suit up.

  ***

  The weather was worse than yesterday and felt twice as cold. Hand held high to shield his eyes, Eric walked the perimeter of the hotel grounds to stretch his legs before boarding the train. He passed army personnel, DSD workers, Black Aquila staff and hotel workers, all rushing in and out of the storm. Brutus stood on the hotel steps smoking a cheap cigar, headphones in, head bobbing, the wind playing with his coat. The cold did not seem to bother him one iota.

  He pulled his headphones free. ‘Alright?’ The cigar wobbled.

  ‘A little nippy.’

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘You get used to it, mate.’

  ‘We almost ready to go?’

  Brutus pulled the cigar from his mouth. ‘I’ll finish this then we’ll jump on board. The train’ll take us to The Grotto. We’ll be slap bang in the middle of it all then.’

  ‘I bumped into a friend of yours last night. Said you went way back.’

  He took a long drag. ‘Oh yeah? Who?’

  ‘Andor Toth. He’s from Hungary or Romania, somewhere like that.’

  ‘Never heard of him.’ His relaxed manner vanished.

  ‘Said you two go way back.’

  Brutus flicked the stub of the cigar off into the snow. ‘Never heard of him. Let’s go get this over with. This snow is pissing me off now.’

  Something did not add up. Eric knew not to push. Brutus was likely to give him a bloody nose rather than answer a question he thought he had already replied to. He gave another look out to the snow. The snow was pissing him off, too.

  Eric’s thermal coat was stifling in the room. A specially altered tactical vest fit snugly over the coat, and a radio was strapped to a front pocket. At his hip, a stun-rod hung from a belt. He’d flipped the switch a couple of times, watching the tip light up and crackle. He held one of the 12-bore shotguns. It felt both right and wrong to have it in his hand. Right because he felt most comfortable and safe with the weapon, wrong because he was standing on British soil.

  ‘Lost in thought again? Thinking of home?’ Ben Williamson stepped up.

  ‘Thinking of what’s to come.’

  ‘I’ll be with you every step of the way. You need me, you use that radio. Everything okay with the plan?’

  Eric nodded. ‘We get to The Grotto, leave enough men behind to secure the area, and then move to the hospital with the trucks. Would’ve been easier if they choppered us in.’

  Williamson tapped at an ear. ‘The noise. Makes it more dangerous.’

  ‘Do you know Andor Toth?’

  ‘Works for the DSD. Met him when we arrived in Aberdeen.’

  ‘Would Brutus know him?’

  ‘Doubt it. Why?’

  ‘No reason. Just something that was bothering me.’

  ‘You’ve got a bad feeling?’

  Eric chuckled. ‘I always do, especially before I head out into who knows what. I’d better get going.’

  ‘Take care out there. If something doesn’t feel right, you tell me.’

  Eric pumped the shotgun for the third time, checking the chamber was still empty. He walked out into the snow, towards the train.

  ***

  With no movement or noise to send them into their frenzy, they milled about in the street like a swarm of bees. Magarth watched, on his knees, hidden by the curtains. He shivered a mixture of cold and fear.

  Upstairs, Liam cried while Terri whispered, doing her best to hush the young child. Gemma and Stacey’s muted voices came from the kitchen as they prepared a basic breakfast for everyone. The night had been quiet, no further interruptions.

  ‘Still the same?’ asked Gemma.

  ‘Yeah, still there. I don’t know where they all came from.’

  ‘The sooner we’re out of here the better.’

  ‘What about Stacey?’

  ‘Don’t know. She feels safe here and doesn’t want to risk the streets.’

  ***

  The window slightly ajar, Gemma sat on the rim of the bath watching the stumbling group. It was difficult to count the numbers. They constantly circled and weaved like a slow dance, a crazy nonsensical dance, but she could swear more had joined. Through her camera, she saw the people they used to be, like a memory, something she did not think they could ever return to.

  She focused on one; a male, perhaps middle aged, his tracksuit filthy and torn at both sleeves. He carried a brown teddy bear, a child’s source of security. A soft knock came at the door.

  ‘Gemma?’

  Stacey stood at the doorway, her hair in need of brushing. Her cheeks were blotchy and beads of perspiration clung to her upper lip. She walked to the mirror. ‘Jesus, look at me. I’m a mess.’

  ‘We’ve been through a lot, Stace.’

  ‘And I feel weak.’

  ‘Weak?’

  ‘Think I’m coming down with something.’ Stacey sighed. ‘So I’ve decided. I can’t go with you to the hospital.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? I just told you!’ Her reply was short. She rubbed at her temples.

  ‘Are you okay, Stacey? Are you—’

  ‘Course I’m okay,’ she replied with another snap. ‘I don’t see what’s wrong with staying here. Those things out there terrify me. Here we have a door that locks, and Terri said she could use the company.’

  ‘I’m doing what I think is best.’

&
nbsp; ‘No, you’re doing what’s best for that!’ Stacey pushed a finger at the camera. ‘I know you want to make a career with this story, but I don’t. I’m happy with my job, happy being me, and more so, I like being alive.’

  ‘Stace—’

  ‘Don’t you Stace me! You and that creepy guy can go together. I’m staying.’ Stacey stormed from the room.

  Magarth appeared at the door.

  ‘You’re crying.’

  Gemma’s thoughts remained with Stacey for a moment. Stacey had changed. Had they all changed? This place, this situation was bound to cause friction. Or was it something else? She touched a finger to her eye. Magarth was right. She caught a tear. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘She’d probably slow us down anyway. Listen, I’ve got an idea. Follow me.’

  Liam’s toys and nappies had been flung across Terri’s bed covers. Magarth pulled the blinds aside enough for them both to see out.

  ‘Out there, through all the gardens, we could make it through there. If we’re quiet, we can do it.’

  The gardens were large, most with high fences. The plan seemed easy standing on the first floor looking down. ‘What happens if the houses are full of infected?’

  ‘If we’re quiet they won’t notice us, and the snow will keep us hidden. We can do this.’ He looked directly into her eyes.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Think of it like this, the sooner we get to the hospital—’

  ‘The sooner you can get home.’

  ‘I was going to say, the sooner we can send help back here for Terri and Stacey.’ Magarth waved away the ensuing pause as if it was an apology. ‘So, will we go? Soon?’

  ‘Yes. We’ll go. Soon.’ The sooner the better.

  ***

  The early morning scene rolled past the train window. Outside was encased in a wintry grip. There wasn’t much conversation on board. The rhythmic rocking of train wheels on the tracks, and the gentle buzz of music from earphones sounded a distant song. While none of the men of Black Aquila said it, Eric knew they were uneasy. Uneasy with walking into such a strange and unique situation. If Martin was still alive, he would have had something to say, something that would have raised some laughter, put minds at ease. Martin would be missed. Martin was missed. The empty seat next to Eric brought the feeling of loss, yet again.

  The train slipped past lines of homes, all dirty, small and poorly kept. Some had lights in the window, some had Christmas decorations, and others were dark, seemingly empty. Roads were bereft of traffic. Nobody went about the city, braving the weather, or the infected.

  Brutus sat halfway down the carriage, earphones in, head bopping to music, resting against the stack of heavy-duty packs. A tablet computer sat on his lap, and he casually dragged a finger across the screen. A smile broke through his beard. Something about Brutus perturbed Eric. The train rocked. Eric jerked forward on his seat. Thick banks of snow had accumulated on the tracks and the train needed to force a passage through. Brutus slipped his tablet into a plastic sleeve and pushed it into the recesses of his coat. He looked over at Eric, still smiling.

  A shiver crawled up his spine that had little to do with the temperature.

  ***

  Gemma walked into the room, wrapped up, ready to face the elements. Magarth stood nervously at the back door. A pan of water boiled on the hob while Terri rocked an almost-asleep Liam in her arms.

  ‘You ready?’ he asked.

  ‘Almost.’ Gemma pulled a long kitchen knife from the block on the bench, turned it in her hand, and ran a cautious finger over the blade.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing with that?’

  ‘Giving myself a chance. I’ve seen what they can do.’

  ‘Take it,’ said Terri.

  Gemma saw Magarth’s hand move to the taser at his belt. An image of him zapping himself in the nuts popped into Gemma’s mind. She would have laughed if the next few hours did not hold the potential to be so terrifying.

  ‘You have yours, and now I have mine.’ She slid the knife into one of her leather boots, leaving the handle within easy reach, and then pulled at the camera strap, adjusting it around her neck.

  ‘It was nice to meet you both,’ said Terri. ‘I’ll look after Stacey. She’s pretty shaken up.’

  Gemma took a step closer to Terri. ‘If anything goes wrong—’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’

  ‘I … I wish you luck.’

  ‘No, I wish you luck, but if you come back here, I won’t let you in. You’ll have to find somewhere else. I’ve got to think of Liam. Once the door is locked, it’s locked for good.’

  They opened the door. The garden was quiet, the laying snow pristine and untouched.

  ‘Let’s do this,’ she said.

  The door locked behind them.

  Chapter 14

  Dark Days Ahead

  ‘Time to go to work,’ someone shouted.

  Eric slipped his weapon over his shoulder on its sling. The train doors opened to the sounds of electronic beeping. A wave of cold air rushed in. A slow procession of men alighted, Eric included, nothing to say, just the details of the mission swirling in their heads.

  The train had stopped short of the station. Eric knew they were about to step into Union Terrace Gardens, sunken and just off the city’s main street. A temporary platform constructed from scaffolding allowed them to leave the train. The steel rang with the pounding of boots. The whole construction shook under the passing of men.

  Eric buttoned his coat high, and pulled on his hat, covering the tops of his ears. The winter ate through to his bones. He clambered over a small concrete wall, some of the iron railings missing, sawed away to allow easy access from the train to the gardens. Not so long ago children would have played here, dogs would have chased flying snowballs. The gardens were transformed into a military staging area. Soldiers moved about, some heading up the steps to the street, others passed the Black Aquila men into the recesses of the waiting tunnel under the city. Floodlights kept the gardens lit.

  ‘Head to The Grotto,’ shouted Eric, and pointed to the steps.

  The shout was taken up and the men of Black Aquila made for the steps. Eric trotted to the lead. The marched compacted the snow into an icy path. Some stumbled. It did not matter what time of day or night, the city seemed cursed to suffer under a monumentally thick blanket of snow.

  He knew the way. Toth had made sure to show him stills of every part of The Grotto. Everything looked familiar, yet different. Ahead, the imposing buildings of His Majesty’s Theatre, an old building with a newly built glass annex on the side, and the Central Library looking untouched by modernism. Both buildings relied heavily on granite, the grey stone fitting the day; sombre. To his left, a statue stood on a rocky plinth, a statue of William Wallace, sword in one hand, the other raised. To his right, and further down the road, a sandbag wall stretched the length of the road.

  ‘Black Aquila. Good,’ said a man with a furry hood. Only the hint of a nose and mouth escaped the confines a scarf. He pointed to the theatre. ‘Store your equipment in there. Billet your men in the library.’

  ‘Andor Toth,’ said Eric. ‘Why is it wherever I go, you seem to be there?’

  ‘My coat buttons over many responsibilities, Eric Mann.’

  Eric turned to look for Brutus in the throng of his arriving company. He was nowhere to be seen. ‘Your friend Brutus is here somewhere.’

  Toth was quick to disregard the mention of Brutus. ‘Many people are here. I need you to establish your areas of control.’ He pulled out a tablet computer and brought up a strategic map. ‘Your men need to relieve the soldiers at the barricades.’ He touched five positions on the map, each immediately blossomed to red. ‘Begin a roving patrol along the tracks to keep them clear. Select who is to go to the hospital. I want them dispatched within the hour.’

  Toth disappeared into the theatre.

  Cameron Carter, an experienced Black Aquila operator, nudged Eric. ‘Who was that?’
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  Eric turned to the former Royal Marine. ‘Someone who makes me think we’re in for a load of trouble.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing. Get the men to unload. We’re staying in the library.’

  Eric walked over to the barricades, the snow becoming deeper as he approached. The road bridged over another road below. Two soldiers stood at the barricade, one with a radio in hand, the other with binoculars. He stood on the firing step and rested his arms on the top. Over the wall, the city was empty. It looked as if everyone in the city had left, allowing winter to have its way.

  ‘Ever seen a city like this before?’ Carter was back by his side. They served together in Iraq three times. Martin was a mutual friend. While he may have been close to an age when an easier job would have appealed to the normal man, Carter would die on the job rather than find civilian employment.

  ‘No, it’s the strangest thing. I’ve never seen snow this bad, either.’

  ‘I trained up in The Highlands. I’ve slogged through snow like this, but in the hills and glens, not a major city. There’s just nobody around to clear the snow.’

  The noise of men and machines stirred behind them, but beyond the barricade, everything was peaceful. It was a calm that lured the unwary into a sense of security. Eric was not silly enough to fall for the Christmas card scene. Out in the snow, lost in the city, something terrible waited.

  ‘What do you make of all this?’

  If Martin was there, Eric would have admitted to feeling fear, but he could not show weakness, not even to Carter, a comrade of many years. ‘It’s like nothing we’ve been through before, but it’s a job. We’ll get it done. Just look out for each other and we’ll be fine.’

  ‘Something’s up. They’ve got the army here, yet they need us.’

  ‘At the first sign of trouble, I’ll be calling it in.’

  Carter’s voice dropped to a near whisper. ‘Tell me. Do you hate them, hate them for what they did to you in Iraq?’