Carrion Virus (Book 1): Carrion City

by Duncan, M. W.

  ‘The Iraqi people?’ Eric did not look to Carter. ‘I don’t hate them, or even blame them. We were in their country, trying to put it back together. I hate that good men died, but hate them, no.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘Have you seen Brutus?’

  ‘Saw him on the train, but not since.’

  ‘Keep an eye on him for me.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just a feeling.’

  ***

  Dr. Eugene Holden sat at a computer terminal, headset on, waiting to be of some use. So far, the morning produced a lot of updates, casualty lists, and new red dots on the map indicating contacts between the military and the infected. He was consulted occasionally, and ignored frequently. He kept his ears pricked and overheard much he would not have otherwise been privy to. The army was using live fire against Stage Three infected. In an age when every smart phone boasted a camera, surely the killings couldn’t be kept from the outside world and media much longer.

  He stifled a yawn, and it wasn’t from boredom. He was genuinely exhausted.

  The map on the computer screen glowed with more red dots, emanating mainly from the hospital and the DSD building. It was the progress of the infected from the epicentre. The general consensus was that either there had been a spike of infections at the hospital, or that containment was breached at the DSD building.

  The smell of coffee hung in the room. Dr. Holden brought up the latest situation reports. A multinational European naval force was assembling to complete the blockade of the city. Royal Navy assets were already operating off the coast. The Royal Air Force flew reconnaissance flights. Roving patrols through the countryside on the outskirts of the city had intercepted desperate groups trying to leave. Arrests. Deaths. More infected discovered. It all made for depressing reading.

  ‘Dr. Holden. The Black Aquila mission will be commencing within the hour,’ said a smiling woman in fatigues. ‘If you’ll follow me.’

  Dr. Holden’s knees cracked as he stood. Black Aquila would be the closest to the hospital. If Magarth was still alive, they would be the ones to find him. He hoped Eric remembered his plea.

  ***

  When morning came with no rescue, the mood on the ward toppled further. Patients burrowed between the starched sheets of their beds, and remained as mute as the TVs they watched. Their care continued in a mechanical fashion. Some nervously continued to try their phones over and again knowing it futile. PC Galloway positioned himself on a chair before the door under assault. He looked like a security guard in an art gallery, but the art he watched over trembled with each attack on the door. The monsters were busy. The door rocked and bulged. A hissing breath sounded from the other side. He did not know how many were trying to get to him, but he guessed many. One thing he did know, the door would not hold another day, let alone another night.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he whispered to the faceless assailants.

  PC Galloway returned to his room. Jane knelt on the floor, a bed sheet spread out before her, a thick black marker in her hand.

  ‘It’s a sign,’ she explained. ‘I thought we could hang it from the window. What do you think?’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘Help. Alive inside. If the army’s out there, they’ll see it. I’m going to weight the bottom so it doesn’t curl in the wind.’

  ‘Great idea.’ He knew it important to encourage positivity, and well, the sign just might work. ‘The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is to have a shower.’

  Jane turned with a wry smile and sniffed at the air. ‘I was going to insist.’

  ***

  Gemma sat on a lawnmower, hunched over and shivering. Her breath misted. Magarth knelt by the shed door, his ear pressed against a wooden panel.

  ‘How much longer?’ she whispered.

  ‘Once we’re sure they’re gone.’

  Gemma checked her watch. ‘The dog stopped barking an hour ago.’

  ‘They probably ripped the dog apart.’ He searched through his rucksack for the umpteenth time.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘Pills.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘They calm me.’

  ‘Calm you?’

  ‘Yeah, they calm me. I think I left my supply elsewhere, but hoping one may have got stuck in the seams or something.’

  ‘Why don’t you turn the bag upside down?’

  ‘I already have, twice.’

  ‘I know.’

  She wanted to offer to walk out into the middle of the street, attract mayhem, be chased by those monsters, and head to a store to buy him some pills. He was never calm, and he was a pain about it. Instead, she wiggled her shoulders, willing warmth to return to her muscles. She was sure Terri’s house was only a few gardens behind them. That’s how slow their progress was. ‘I think we can go.’

  ‘I say when we go, okay?’

  More times than he had searched his rucksack, Gemma had checked the area from a small window. The yard was quiet, empty, no movement to be seen. No noise from neighbouring yards. It was as safe as it was ever going to get, and who was he to give orders? ‘No. It’s not okay. I’m not sitting here another second.’

  Gemma slowly opened the door.

  ‘Don’t,’ said Magarth.

  ‘Shut up,’ she threw back.

  The snow-covered garden was empty. Magarth followed her out. She knew he would.

  ‘This is stupid.’

  ‘It’s sensible.’

  ‘Don’t put us both at risk just ’cause you’re bored.’

  ‘Go chew on a zombie’s hide, Tim. I’m heading to the hospital. You coming?’

  ***

  Three trucks pulled up, each at least a decade old with canvas covering the flatbeds. Eric knew the journey would not be comfortable. Two military Snatch Land Rovers parked close by and six soldiers armed with LA-80s looked on attentively. The six would travel with the Black Aquila convoy, and the rest would come from another part of the city and rendezvous at the hospital.

  ‘That’s it,’ announced Carter, ‘we’re ready as we’ll ever be.’

  It wasn’t an ideal situation, taking half his strength, but more men were needed to secure The Grotto. ‘Has Brutus showed up?’

  ‘No.’

  Eric stepped to the wall that overlooked the gardens below. Two Black Aquila operatives struggled with a figure. Five US Rangers raced out with M4s levelled. They were part of the special containment detail. Eric was sure Ben Williamson said only British military personnel would be on the ground. Things change.

  Carter clamoured into the first truck. Eric turned to join him when Toth approached, snow crunching under his feet.

  ‘Good, right on time,’ said Toth, the hood of his coat now down, and scarf wound around his neck. ‘Best get moving. Time’s ticking away.’

  Eric pulled himself into the cabin and slapped the dashboard twice. ‘Let’s go.’

  The driver switched on the engine. The vehicles were white, good camouflage for today. The Snatch led the convoy. Eric’s truck slipped behind followed by the other two. The second army vehicle took up the rear. The whole situation reminded him of Iraq, before his capture. Taking one final look in the mirror, he spotted a lone figure leaping into the rear of the last truck. Brutus.

  Eric fit his radio earpiece into place. Chatter between operatives was minimal. So far, the city seemed quiet. Several areas were without power, and a few buildings smouldered unchecked. They manoeuvred into another lane, avoiding abandoned cars.

  The radio came alive.

  ‘Mr. Mann, this is Dr. Holden. We met this morning.’

  ‘What can I do for you, Doctor?’

  ‘How are things in the city?’

  ‘Quiet.’

  ‘Listen.’ The doctor’s voice dropped. His whisper came through loud and clear. ‘Captain Killian has stepped out for a moment. I wanted to speak to you in private.’

/>   ‘Nothing’s private on the radio, Doctor.’

  ‘No. I suppose you’re correct.’ The transmission ceased for a second. ‘I fear the DSD containment was breached. You need to find out what happened there, and to the army units that were sent.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Because the containment facility in the basement couldn’t have failed. It was impossible.’

  Eric gave a gruff laugh. ‘I’ve come to understand that nothing’s impossible in this world.’

  ‘You’re listening, Mr. Mann, but you’re not understanding. The containment system couldn’t have failed without the computer being tampered with, and the security footage is corrupted and no longer broadcasting.’

  ‘So, you’re saying what exactly?’

  ‘Not everyone is working for the same goals here. Something is wrong.’ He dropped his voice again. ‘I can’t say more, not over an open channel.’

  ***

  Gemma held a finger to her lips. Magarth nodded his understanding. He didn’t want to be here, but he couldn’t have remained alone back there, in the shed. They both crouched behind a snow-covered Lexus and peered around the bumper. Ahead, a man and a woman threw bags into the boot of a small car, their voices raised in a heated argument. Magarth doubted they’d be going anywhere. The snow concealed the wheels.

  ‘This is bad,’ said Magarth.

  ‘Maybe we should tell them to keep quiet? They probably don’t know that noise attracts them.’

  ‘Are you crazy? There’s every chance they’re infected.’

  ‘So, let’s double back and find another route.’

  ‘Take too long. Too risky. No. No.’

  ‘This whole thing’s risky.’

  He tugged at his scarf, felt himself growing more panicked. ‘This is bad,’ he repeated.

  ‘Hey! Please help!’ The voice came from across the street. A short male, perhaps in his thirties, shirt torn.

  ‘Stay back,’ the arguing couple said.

  ‘I just need some help, they were in my house. I need somewhere to go, please.’

  The man slammed the boot closed, and they both jumped into the car. It coughed. The car coughed again. The ignition turned over and the engine roared to life. The telling signs of gears and accelerator sounded, but the car couldn’t budge.

  Gemma moved an inch forward. Magarth tugged her to the ground, hard. She yelped.

  ‘You idiot!’

  ‘You’re the idiot,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t—’

  The man in the torn shirt turned to their noise. He headed their way.

  ‘Look what you’ve done,’ Magarth whined. His tone was high.

  ‘Please, I won’t hurt you.’

  Magarth pulled the yellow taser from his waistband. His hands shook.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Gemma.

  ‘He could be infected.’

  ‘He might not be. Put that thing away.’

  ‘We can’t take the risk.’

  The man closed in.

  ‘Stay back,’ cried Magarth, ‘I’ll use this.’

  ‘I won’t hurt you, I promise. Just help me.’

  He was only metres away. One finger squeezed. The barbs shot out of the taser, striking below the neck. The man went rigid and fell to the ground. His body convulsed. Magarth threw the taser aside and the cracking stopped. In a frenzy, he stomped on the man’s chest, dug his heel in over and again. Ribs splintered. He had to kill him. Kill him or be killed. He had to get home.

  ‘Stop it,’ yelled Gemma.

  Magarth moved to the head. Stomping, kicking, stomping. One final stomp and he felt the facial bones give way.

  ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I saved us,’ he panted.

  ‘Saved us? You killed him. You’ve … bludgeoned him.’

  ‘I had to.’ Magarth wiped at his face. ‘Damn! Damn! Damn! I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get home. Maria needs me.’ He turned and lifted his feet high, ploughing through the snow. He was fast.

  ‘You can’t just leave me!’

  ‘Maria needs me!’

  Magarth ran on, alone. If he kept at this pace he’d lose her, but she was a burden. She was going to impede his chances of getting home.

  The street opened before him. The towering lights of the hospital came into view. He could have cried with relief. Noises came and went on the wind. The sound of an engine laboured through the snow. A white military vehicle sped past. More vehicles followed. This was it, he thought. Rescue. Magarth pulled himself over a wall and ran out onto the road, arms raised forward.

  ‘Stop!’ he yelled. ‘Stop!’

  ***

  The lead Snatch put some unnecessary distance between itself and the trucks.

  Eric nudged Carter. ‘Tell them to slow down.’

  A form, black against the snow and arms raised, raced onto the road.

  A swerve. Breaks jammed on. The back wheels went their own way, taking the truck into a circle, crashing into an abandoned car, and then another, and then another. Car alarms blared. The truck came to rest, straddling the full width of the roadway. Eric touched a hand to his forehead. It came away with a dab of blood.

  Carter rubbed his neck. ‘Damn it.’

  The earpiece hung on its cord. Eric pushed it back in. Panicked words burst across the radios. He pulled the door open and slid out of the cabin. The front left wheel was buckled.

  ‘This truck’s not going anywhere.’

  Carter handed him the modified shotgun. From behind, the other vehicles came to a halt.

  Eric ran to one. ‘You know where the rendezvous is at the hospital?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Go to it. Our transport’s down. We’ll make it on foot.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘We can cut through the grounds and meet you there. Link up with the army units but wait for us before moving further.’ Eric waved the trucks on. He shouted to Carter, ‘Get those car alarms silenced.’

  The third truck went past and someone leapt from the back.

  ‘Finally showed your face.’

  Brutus held a pair of mini binoculars to his eyes. ‘Looks like you could use a hand, mate.’

  Ahead, a group of fifteen or more watched the action, their bodies in that jerking dance Eric was coming to know so well. Eric readied his shotgun. A lone guy ran towards him, dangling an ID badge in the air.

  ‘Stop right there. Down on your knees,’ shouted Eric.

  He obeyed, and placed his hands on the back of his head. ‘I’m not one of them. I’m not.’

  Eric waved Brutus over. Plastic wrist restraints were applied.

  ‘This is the idiot that caused all this,’ said Eric.

  ‘I’m not infected.’

  ‘Save it, fool,’ barked Brutus.

  ‘I’m Tim Magarth with the DSD. Please, you’ve got to get me out of here.’

  ‘You’re with the DSD?’ asked Eric.

  ‘They’re coming for us. Get these ties off me.’

  Eric knew he’d have a chance of getting some explanations from this man. ‘I need to talk with you. Don’t move.’

  Eric dragged Brutus towards the damaged truck. ‘Contact left,’ he shouted, pointing towards the group.

  The Black Aquila operatives moved into a well-practised routine, those with tasers and the modified shotguns to the fore, those with stun-rods, to the rear.

  The DSD employee followed, his ragged breaths loud and laboured.

  ‘I said to stay where you were.’

  ‘I’m not leaving your side.’

  ‘One false move and I’ll knock your block off.’

  ‘I like my head.’

  A wisp of snow blew past. Eric raised a hand to wave the unit forward then looked down the sights of his shotgun. An infected sniffed twice, and then let out a scream as its jittering increased. It launched forward and those behind followed.

  ‘Fire.’

  Eric’s command unleashed a volley of electric barb
s and shells. Half of the creatures were brought down while the others continued their charge. His sights followed one, a teenage girl, keeping her on the end of the barrel. When she turned, he squeezed the trigger. It took her in the chest. She shuddered and dropped to the ground. Eric pumped the shotgun and moved forward.

  Two of his men, Sinclair and another, raced up. With stun-rods in hand and restraints at the ready, they set about securing the girl Eric neutralised. A few more shotgun blasts rang out before the last went down.

  ‘Secure them all,’ said Eric. ‘Arms and legs, and use mouth-guards.’

  The scrambling began.

  Sinclair wiped snow from his face and turned. One infected, brought down but not yet secured, leapt back to its feet. It pounced on Sinclair.

  A collective cry went up. Brutus ran past, shotgun ready. Sinclair screamed as the teeth sank into his neck. Brutus hauled the creature off, tearing skin away. Sinclair fell back, both hands pressed to a gaping wound.

  ‘Medic!’ cried Carter.

  Brutus and the infected faced each other like two wrestlers waiting for the bell. There was no bell. Brutus smashed the butt of the weapon into its nose. It did little, other than to stun the thing.

  ‘Move, Brutus,’ called Carter.

  Brutus shook his head. ‘I got this one.’

  He jabbed a fist into its face, a blow that would have floored most men. The infected leapt at him. He dodged to the side, swinging a roundhouse kick to its midsection, and followed with an elbow to the side of the head. It flinched, but turned and attacked again. Brutus kicked with the flat of his boot, into its knee. A loud snap. The infected dropped. Brutus grabbed at a flailing arm, stepped behind and brought a knee to the back of its shoulder, pinning it face-first into the snow. He yanked back. The arm came away from the socket, yet still the thing resisted. Brutus planted his foot into its back and brought a fist down at the base of its skull. He grabbed his shotgun, fired two shots. The street was once again quiet.

  ‘Don’t know what all the fuss is about.’ Brutus walked back to the truck, peeled off his black gloves, and applied a clean pair.

  Eric caught up. ‘What the hell was that?’