He wanted to flee, but there was nowhere for him to go except by slitting open the back of the tent, the knife making easy work of the canvas. His escape plan was flawed however, the fencing extending around the back here also. Just out of sight to his right was one of the two breaks in the fence, most likely being sealed by armed men even now.
Desperation began to consume him. He couldn’t see any soldiers, which was good because that meant they couldn’t witness his feeble efforts to get the hell out of here. Directly in front of him was a pedestrian subway that once allowed school children to avoid walking across the road that led up to the front of the school. He rushed over to that now, hoping that he could somehow get through. He crashed up against the wire, searching for a means to breach it. If he couldn’t go through the restraining wire he would have to go over, which would be a challenge for his less than athletic frame. Mitch was a hedonist, and in his book that meant avoiding exercise and healthy living at all cost. So what if his belly grew fat and his limbs grew weak. Before Lazarus, he had been rich, and that money had bought him everything he needed.
For fuck’s sake, he’d taken this specific position because it was supposed to be safe. Well away from the front lines and far to the north of Leeds city centre, with the luxury that allowed him to travel between destinations in one of the few cars allowed on the roads. Well that had backfired, spectacularly.
To climb the fence, he would have to drop the knife, and he let it clatter at his feet. Thank God there was no razor wire at the top of this part of the fence, which had been erected not to protect against the undead, but to stop those intent on random theft from stealing from the vulnerable food stores held in the rear of the tent. Even with the roundups and the curfews, desperate people would still prowl for any opportunity they could find in the dead of night. It occurred to him that the lack of razor wire here was a severe failing in the defence of that food, but he was thankful for its absence.
The first shots sounded out, the rapid containment response team already arriving. Nothing they found inside the wire would be allowed to live, with the exception of their fellow soldiers. If they were deemed to be at risk, they would be screened with the rapidly depleting field tests, one of the benefits of wearing the uniform. Mitch, even with his connections, doubted he would be afforded such luxuries. There was no way he would even be given the chance to explain how important he thought he was.
He laced his fingers into the wire, felt it bite down into his thick fingers. Carefully, he tried to pull himself up, acutely aware that he had little in the way of upper body strength. That bitch had done this on purpose, enticing him so as to deliberately infect him. How could she? How could she betray him like that?
Despite himself, Mitch started to make progress but found it difficult to get any sort of foot hold. He managed to get several inches off the ground before falling back down, his fingers slipping free, skin ripping off one where the wire was sharp. No, no, no, he wouldn’t allow himself to get trapped like this. Maybe if he ran back to the tent and brought one of the larger boxes out?
“Hey!”
The voice was clearly aimed at him, and frantically Mitch’s eyes scanned the surroundings until he saw the soldier on the other side of the fence. That gave Mitch fresh emphasis to try and climb once again, his second attempt no more successful than the first. He began to scream, not really realising he was doing so, frustration and primal survival needing a means to express itself.
The first bullet took him in the lower back which caused his legs to drop, his fingers gripping onto the fence which meant he dangled there barely off the ground. In his last moments, his hearing became acutely aware, the sound of feet behind him, the fire in his back spreading as another bullet took out his right kidney. The fingers gave way, his body falling hard to the ground, arms raised in an attempt to ward off future bullets. His technique didn’t work, and he lived for another five seconds before the selfish spark that kept him going was snuffed out. A knife was shoved in the back of his neck before the virus could claim the corpse as its own.
No great loss to the world.
27.08.19
Underground tunnel, USA
Behind them, the tunnel had collapsed, the survivors far enough down the tunnel’s length so as to escape being buried in falling concrete and rock. They hadn't escaped the dust though, Howell’s uniform was still covered in it despite several judicious swipes with his hand. His face he had cleaned using water from his canteen in a quick splash and wipe motion that left him smeared and dishevelled. It got the grit out of his nose and eyes though.
He was cleaning another face now, Lizzy standing there incredulous as he wiped the grime from her pale skin and out of her eyes. Howell was taking more time with the girl, making her look presentable. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Reece found herself amused at the way Lizzy was reacting. The child hadn’t recoiled when Howell had knelt down in front of her, which proved that trust had been fully established. Instead she had planted her hands on her hips to show marked disapproval. Lizzy didn’t do anything to stop Howell actively wipe her face clean though, so Reece figured she was secretly enjoying the attention.
“I’m old enough to clean myself,” Lizzy insisted.
“I know,” Howell said whilst he carried on wiping with the triangle bandage he had pulled from his first aid kit. “But we are nearly done now, so I might as well finish. You wouldn’t even believe there was a little girl under all this dust.”
“She will be a heartbreaker don’t you think, Richard,” Reece teased. Teasing could only occur in a situation of safety and normality, which would lighten the psychological load Lizzy was carrying.
“Oh most certainly,” Howell added as he carried on cleaning. Reece let him do it, saw it as his way to try and reinforce the bond he had with them. Behind them in the tunnel, there were still people coming, dust floating in the air like smog. Nothing would be getting out of Fort Detrick, not this way at least. How little did Reece know that something already had got out?
“I’m not little,” Lizzy scowled. “And boys are icky.”
“Well, you’re littler than me,” Howell said. There really was no denying that fact.
“Humfph.”
“You did look a sight, Lizzy,” Reece advised her, wary that she would be somewhat scruffy herself right now. She had already washed her own face, but her hair would still be full of it. Reece had been about to do the same for Lizzy, only Howell had beaten her to it, and she felt strangely conflicted. Part of her insisted that such things were her job now and her job alone, and yet she was happy to share the burden of caring for Lizzy. She wasn’t yet mother material, this was all new to her.
When this was all over, did Reece really think she would be able to look after a disfigured child with a history of severe psychological trauma?
With her attention on Lizzy, Reece almost didn’t see the blood dripping from the stranger’s hand as he walked past. The red coated the digits, leaving a trail behind him. The black coat he wore hiding any visible injury.
“Hey,” Reece shouted to get the man’s attention. He was probably a lab technician, one of the last to get through before the door was closed. The man tried to ignore her, but she shouted again, Howell standing up, reading the signals that something wasn’t right. “How did you hurt your arm?”
“Leave me alone,” the technician ordered as he tried to hurry past them. In part of a group he might have been able to hide himself away, but he was a lone traveller, and Reece moved to intercept him, blocking his path, getting in his face. In a physical confrontation, without a broken arm, Reece reckoned she could take him. He was soft from spending too long sat down, his body flabby and lacking in tone.
“Sugar, I asked you how you hurt your arm.” She was stood in front of him now, good hand on her holster, ready to pull her weapon free. Firing one handed wouldn’t be ideal, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. The man stopped, his pained expression showed that he was exhauste
d as well as injured.
“It’s nothing, please just let me pass.” He sounded pitiful.
“Pull back your sleeve,” Howell ordered. He was coming up on the technician from the side, pistol already drawn. Reece had been a cop, her instincts were to be trusted, and she had a nose for spotting people who were trying to keep things hidden. Howell was happy to follow her lead, because they were a team and teams backed each other up.
The technician gave him a frightened glance. If the injury was what Reece suspected, then none of them were in immediate danger because they were all immune, but they couldn’t let the man carry on to his ultimate destination. As much as she hated to admit it, there was only one thing that could be done with those who had been bitten. Jee’s experiments had shown that the vaccine was unreliable as a post exposure treatment, and there was no way this individual would have received the vaccine already. He wasn’t important enough. Also, only soldiers had been involved in the trial Howell had volunteered for.
“At the very least, your injury needs cleaning and dressing, especially with all this dust in the air.” Reece took a step forward, her broken arm making the confrontation awkward.
“Really, it’s okay.”
“You’re making me nervous, man,” Howell warned.
“I fell and caught my arm on something. I insist you leave me alone.”
“You insist?” Reece didn’t do well with people telling her what to do. When she had been patrolling the streets of Houston, that kind of attitude often got a person shoved up against the side of her cruiser so she could slap the cuffs on. “Just show us your arm. You know why this has to be done.” The technician hesitated and then bolted. Reece saw it coming, the eyes always giving the person away. She stood aside in time, not wanting to be brought down by him, the panic a powerful motivator pumping the technician’s blood full of adrenaline. Reece was going to pull her gun, but she didn’t get a chance.
The single shot rang out, the technician’s body falling forward. Reece turned, expecting to see Howell’s gun used and smoking, but he hadn’t been the one who fired. Instead, about ten metres away she saw John standing with his gun raised. Incredibly, the technician began to crawl himself forwards in a futile attempt to escape.
The shot had caught the man in the right shoulder, so not immediately lethal. Howell marched past Reece, bending to grab the man who actually whimpered in protest.
“What the hell is wrong with you man?” Howell said. Reece could tell he was angry, not seeing herself that the fall had pulled the sleeve up exposing the bite mark where a significant chunk of flesh from the technician’s wrist had been torn away.
“Please let me go,” came the whimpered response.
“Come here, Lizzy,” Reece ordered sternly. The girl acted like she didn’t hear, gazing in wonderment at what was unfolding. “Lizzy,” Reece said more loudly, which managed to break through to her. Lizzy stepped over and allowed Reece to move her head away. Looking backwards, Lizzy watched as John and the soldiers with him jogged over.
“Tell me I didn’t just waste a bullet, Private,” John said to Howell. The captain barely looked at Reece, and his eyes certainly didn’t even register the girl who watched him with a frightened stare. The last of the stragglers were following behind the soldiers, and they nervously slowed their advance, apprehensive about moving past the armed men. Would they be shot too?
“No sir,” Howell advised, his foot now keeping the technician from moving. It only took seconds for John to see the bite injury.
“You selfish son of a bitch,” John roared at the felled man, stepping back. The last thing he wanted was for this wounded man’s blood on him. “You put everyone here in danger.”
“I’m sorry,” the squirming technician begged. Howell looked at Reece, their eyes meeting, Reece nodding her head at the permission Howell was searching for. There was only one thing that could be done now. The required action broke every social and legal norm the country had been founded on, but they were past such pleasantries. This was now about the survival of the species.
Howell shot the technician in the back of the head without warning, and if he was honest with himself, with a good deal of trepidation. For seconds after, Howell stood there, his hands shaking from the atrocity he had just committed. He had killed a man, his first. Would there be more to follow?
It was a side of Howell that Reece hadn’t expected to see, the soldier that followed orders, that did what needed to be done no matter how unpleasant and no matter the burden to his own conscience. She didn’t think anything less of him for it, in fact, her respect grew. It was something that had been essential, and if Howell and the captain hadn’t been there, Reece would have taken the shot herself. There was no surviving that kind of injury, and nobody wanted a zombie running loose down here.
Reece bent down and made sure Lizzy was looking at her. She seemed reluctant at first, fear welling within her face again. The adults she trusted killed people.
“You understand why that had to be done?” Reece almost implored. She had to make Lizzy understand.
“I think so,” Lizzy said after a moment’s pause.
“And you know why Richard was the one to do it?” Lizzy shook her head. “He’s a soldier, and he’s here to protect us. Soldiers sometimes have to do things that we don’t like. Just like Sheriff’s deputies.” Reece was, of course, referring to herself. “Just like young ladies who find themselves in places they don’t want to be.”
“Have you ever shot anyone?” came the question from Lizzy’s lips. Should she tell the girl? And if she did, would that weaken the link that held them? Reece chose to deflect the question, not knowing if that was even the right tactic to take.
“I’ve seen the undead Lizzy, there’s only one way to deal with them.”
“But he wasn’t a zombie.”
“He would have been. He was bitten. He wasn’t like you and me.” Reece could see that reality was dawning on her. Lizzy had been bitten, had lost an ear and yet she hadn’t turned. Whilst Reece was confident Lizzy understood how special she was in that regard, there was no harm in reinforcing the reality of the situation.
“Would he have attacked us like my mum attacked me?” Reece pulled her closer.
“Yes, Lizzy.” The child plucked at the bandage covering her ear. It was something Reece had noticed her doing recently, like a nervous tick she had developed., and Reece gently restrained the hand.
“Then it’s good he's dead,” came the whimpered reply. Perhaps good wasn’t the best word to use, but it would do for now.
27.08.19
Leeds, UK
Andy felt intimidated, which was crazy when you thought about it. He had killed numerous people, had fought off the undead and yet his heart was skipping about just because he was being asked to talk to a crowd. It was probably the calibre of the people in the audience that was the cause of the anxiety he managed to swallow. If any of his nervousness showed, nobody commented on it.
There were nearly twenty people looking at him, and yet he found the words easily, half of them men with a piercing gaze that seemed to scrutinise every expression he made and every word that came out of his mouth. He didn’t see any condemnation though, just acceptance of facts as he told them. They had questions, and they weren’t afraid to ask them. Andy could see that his words were turning many of them off the prospect of staying in Leeds.
“And they killed people?” Jessica asked. Andy nodded. Having been around the military for several days, it reassured him how Jessica was so obviously an equal to these hardened men. They all seemed to respect her opinion, even though it was clear she’d had no kind of training. Andy respected her also, after all, Jessica had saved his life.
“Thousands of them. They had a list of names that they called the Fawkes List.”
“I’m very acquainted with it,” Nick admitted.
“Really?” Andy was surprised by that.
“I helped draw up the London version.” Nick showed
no embarrassment at that. Nick, the SAS, they represented a world that Andy had no idea even existed.
“It’s probably how I would have gone about it,” Haggard said, several of his men nodding their agreement.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jessica sounded appalled.
“No. The only way to get control of the situation would have been shock and awe.”
“But to kill so many?”
“You have to remember we think differently to you civilians, Jessica,” Haggard countered. “That isn’t to say we are right or wrong, it’s just the way I would have dealt with the situation. In fact, if more cities had taken that approach, we might not have had to run away from Preston.”
“The approach did seem to work,” Andy added. “But the outbreak last night...”
“What outbreak?” demanded Nick. Tom stood there, watching this with growing disgust. He wanted to say something, to tell them how they had all fucked him over by storming onto his farm, but he held his tongue. He was still being viewed in a dim light by his own family, and a display of smug satisfaction wouldn’t get him anywhere but further into the dog house. It would just have to be enough for him to know he was right.
“North of the city, near the grammar school. One of the infected...” a fresh bout of nervousness hit him, but he fought through it. “One of the infected I executed came back to life and started attacking people.” Andy suddenly felt guilty. It might have been a random occasion of bad luck, one that could have happened to anyone, but it had been Andy who hadn’t done the job properly with Mark.
“Is that outbreak under control?” The question came from Natasha. Andy found he couldn’t match her gaze.
“I think so, but something happened.”
“What?” asked Nick.
“I was attacked by a zombie, the actual one that started everything. It seemed drawn to me over the other men in my team. I shot it, but the bullets didn’t seem to work. Its skin seemed thicker as if it was somehow armoured.”
The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 5): The Last Page 29
