Going outside was supposed to mean wearing full NBC gear, but he eschewed that. He needed freedom and he had Smith’s promise that the cure would be his if only he fulfilled the task. Renfield wasn’t aware that the deal he had made was with Smith’s alter ego, that it was Smith’s subconscious that wanted to see Jessica dead. Renfield also didn’t know why he had been given this task, the mystery of it an irrelevance. If the woman called Jessica was immune though, then he was more than happy to oblige Smith with her death and would enjoy every second of it.
Wandering up to the medical facility, his plan was to clear his head and get some control over himself. At no time did he actually expect to find Jessica standing out in the open because that would have just been ridiculously coincidental. And yet there she had been, vulnerable and alone. With his L86A2 gripped in his hands, it would have been so easy to kill her and he almost had. The knuckles turned white as he clutched his weapon, the burn within him needing quenching. As the seconds ticked by as he stared at her, he had steeled himself for the slaughter knowing that this was the time. Then she had turned and looked at him and the spell had been almost broken. The finger slipped onto the trigger of his gun.
Renfield knew that he was becoming dangerously reckless. There was a strong chance that he wouldn’t have escaped the inevitable justice that would have been unleashed upon him if he’d gone through with it. Shots like that would have brought people running even at this hour, and here he was out in the open. The shadows hid him but it likely wasn’t enough cover to get away with murder in the middle of an army base. Still the urge to go ahead with it became unbearable.
He couldn’t really see Jessica in detail, it was still too dark. He knew it was her though, there was no doubt about that. Why else would there be a woman in civilian clothes walking around the base like this? It wasn’t how he would want to do it, to kill her would be better up close so he could see into the pain her eyes would telegraph.
He stalled though, and that initial hesitation saved both of them because another intervened. If not for Jeff, there was no denying that Jessica would have been sliced in half by machine gun fire.
“Jessica.”
When the shout occurred, Renfield slid further into the darkness, natural foliage swallowing him up. Renfield had no idea who the man was, but he too was armed. The NBC suit suggested army, but Renfield’s gut said not. This was one of the men Smith had warned him about, the watchers who kept Jessica safe. The odds of him successfully killing Jessica at that moment dropped significantly. He would have to kill her and the man, and nothing was certain when you shot at people. Renfield abandoned any idea of murder at that moment. He would have to wait for a more opportune time that Smith had promised to provide.
The problem was, murder needed to be done, because the pressure in him was building. If he didn’t act of his own accord, he might just find his addiction acting for him. It was then that Renfield truly understood the mistake he had made. As pleasurable as it had been and as awesome as it was to now have Lucy inside him, breaking the dam that had let his murderous desires be unleashed would be his undoing. There was no way of putting this particular genie back in the bottle.
In the state he was now, he suddenly found himself wondering if he was any better than the fucking undead.
23.08.19
Jersey City, USA
The fever had hit Gabriel quickly and with an intensity he had never before experienced. In the end he decided not to venture up onto the surface even though he was in sight of the platform at Grove Street Station. Instead, he broke into a tunnel service room he found near the underground station platform, the dirt and the grease of no concern to him despite his personal preference for cleanliness. Closing the door behind him after staggering in, he had sat with his back against one of the room’s corners so as to let the infection have its way with him.
The delirium had worried him and with his thoughts swimming in and out of the real world, he had strongly considered suicide a way out. Several times the Glock had rested under his chin, Gabriel thinking the moment had definitely come to end it all. If he lost himself, if his mind started to fail, Gabriel had decided that this would be the indication that it was time to leave this fetid world. Each time he wavered, not sure if this was in fact the end. Each time he had been right, the darkness that had been descending upon his mind ebbing away to return clarity to his thoughts.
Even with the pain and the near delirium he was in, he kept himself together enough through sheer pig headed determination. He never fired the killing round, the heat in his flesh slowly subsiding as the infection began to lose the battle for his flesh. Inside, Lazarus had fought valiantly, but his defences had been too strong even if it had been a close won battle. The vaccine he had been given nearly a year ago worked, but it was far from ideal. Whilst it was enough for Gabriel to live, there would be consequences that would manifest only with time. Unlike his fellow assassin, Gabriel carried no natural immunity and had to rely on the chemical concoction he had injected into himself a year before.
His whole body ached, but better that than death.
It soon became clear to him that he would live, but the virus had taken a toll on him, sapping his strength and leaving him barely able to move. He could just about manage to pull the water bottle from the rucksack he had dumped onto the service room floor, the water harsh on his throat. It caused his body to almost retch, a shaking cough forced to descend on his burning lungs. Even that simple action of drinking took almost everything from him. Still he forced it down, knowing that dehydration was now his enemy. His clothes were drenched from the sweat that had poured off him, his skin still slick with it.
Safe for now, he had drifted off into sleep, the exhaustion too much to resist. No dreams interrupted his slumber, his body taking its time to try and heal the damage that had been done to it. When Gabriel eventually came to, he would find the world a much different place than when he left it. And he himself would be a much different person.
23.08.19
Preston, UK
As soon as Jessica saw Whittaker she felt like she knew him. There was confusion on her face, because this wasn’t a passing familiarity that she felt.
“I know you,” Jessica said.
“Yes,” Whittaker agreed. He had risen when she entered, all chivalrous like. His dad had taught him that when he was young, repeated instructions on how to act around what his dad had called the fairer sex.
“And yet I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
“It’s unlikely, I’m from London. I’ve never been this far north before.” They both sat down in chairs facing each other.
“I really don’t understand what’s going on here.” Jessica was starting to sound overwhelmed. Just a week ago she had been a lawyer recovering from the discovery that she was pregnant. The last few days she hadn’t even been able to think about that.
“Let me tell you what I think, and I apologise if this starts to get a bit whacky bollocks.” Nick looked at them both, trying to figure how best to phrase this. “Okay, you are both immune, as I suspect is the man in that isolation room.”
“The killer,” Whittaker added. Jessica gave him a tense look as if to tell him not to use that word, the gesture strangely protective in nature. He missed it, his attention on Nick. Nick caught it though, and stored that knowledge away.
“I believe you are somehow connected due to your immunity, and that connection occurs in your dreams.”
“I’m not sure I can believe that,” Whittaker contested, shaking his head dismissively.
“Would you have believed the dead would be walking and killing everything in their path if I’d told you such last week?” Nick countered. Whittaker looked at him as if he wanted to argue, but nothing came. He threw his hands in the air in resignation.
“Point taken. So what does it mean?”
“What does it mean? I have absolutely no fucking idea. But what I do know is that, as you have just shown, you can possibly reco
gnise each other. We need to find more immune individuals to be sure though.”
“I know we’ve never met in real life,” Jessica said interrupting, “but I feel like I’ve spent time with this man. I feel close to him.”
“Jesus, this is some crazy Stephen King shit,” said Jeff.
“There’s something else,” the voice came from the isolation room, those sitting standing so as to look at Azrael. “The horsemen.”
“What about them?” Nick demanded.
“I feel I know who one of them is now.” When Azrael said the name, things actually seemed to make more sense to Nick. He didn’t know why, but it just seemed to fit. The name Azrael said was Smith. “I see him there, following us through the dessert. He’s dangerous.”
“I don’t remember that,” Jessica countered. “Surely he would be with us in the desert though,” Jessica insisted. “You told me he cured himself.”
“I’m not sure that’s how this works,” Nick pointed out. “We are only at the very beginning of understanding this and I think we have to put a considerable amount of trust in Azrael. I believe the immunity has to be natural, not acquired. But why would Smith be in your dreams?” Jessica was shaking her head.
“I’m not ready to believe that until I experience it myself,” Jessica said. “I still can’t trust the word of Azrael, not after what he did.” Nick was going to counter this, but Jessica stopped him. “Yes, I appreciate all the mind control shit, but that actually increases my distrust.”
“I would never lie to you Jessica, not now.” Azrael was staring right at her with an intensity that was almost pain inducing to witness.
“You say that, but I don’t even know what to call you. I knew you as a man called Kevin. And yet you sit before us with a different name and a different personality.”
“I…” Azrael faltered. He didn’t have an answer to that. No matter how he looked at things, he saw no reason why Jessica should hold any confidence in him. Finally, he said the only thing that made any sense. “I hope with time that trust will come.”
“So you didn’t see Smith in your nightmare, Jessica?” Nick didn’t bother asking Whittaker because the Corporal wouldn’t have any idea what the man from Porton Down looked like.
“I don’t know,” was all she could say.
“Okay, well for the time being it might be better if you didn’t go wandering off, just in case.”
“Why, you can just have your minions watch me like this morning. Why don’t you trust me?” Where the hell did that come from? thought Nick.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Nick said truthfully.
“Don’t give me that. Why else are you having your goons follow me around outside?” Nick looked at Jeff who just shrugged.
“Nobody is following you around Jessica.”
“Then who was the man watching me when I went outside? Was it Brodie?”
“Brodie is asleep,” Jeff said. “I didn’t see anyone when I collected you Jessica.”
“I know nothing about anyone watching you. I’ve told you, I trust your word when you say you won’t do anything foolish.” Nick instantly regretted using the word foolish, but Jessica didn’t seem to react to it.
“Well he was there and he gave me the creeps.” She seemed to believe what she was being told, but to Jessica that was even more worrying.
“Maybe just a curious squaddie? Or one of Haggard’s lads?” offered Jeff.
“No, Mad Dog would have told me. Jessica, why did this man make you feel nervous.”
“You’re telling the truth aren’t you? Shit.” Jessica was now feeling bad about accusing Nick. It had just seemed like the logical answer to why there were mysterious eyes on her. Nick nodded. “Well, it was just something I sensed about him, like he was up to no good. Even from the distance he was at, I could tell there was an intensity there. Plus, he wasn’t wearing all that protective shit you guys always wear outside.” That I don’t have to wear she said to herself.
One of the things Nick excelled at was threat detection and threat avoidance. Once again, his little warning siren was going off in his head. If Jessica was telling the truth, and Nick had no evidence to the contrary, then there was an unknown man wandering around the base whilst breaking the cross infection protocols that were in place. Nick activated his radio headset which he now almost permanently wore.
“Natasha,” Nick said. It took several goes for her to answer. Most likely she had been asleep. “Pack up your shit and meet me here with Brodie.”
“Everything okay boss?” Natasha asked. There was a concerned edge to her voice.
“No,” was all Nick would tell her. “Get Haggard and his men over to the infirmary as well. I might be wrong, but I have a feeling trouble’s coming. I want everyone ready to bug out if we need to.”
***
Moros was not self-aware despite its vast computing power. It was merely a tool for humans to use. Part of its job was to monitor all the data collected by the government listening station GCHQ, which was still fully functional and now heavily guarded.
With the shutdown to civilians of the internet and the cell network, the burden placed on Moros was released, allowing it to concentrate on the few communications that were still being sent. It was like the digital version of post 911, when, following the disaster, the skies had been clear of all civilian air traffic. In such an environment, communications stood out, which was why Moros was working to decrypt the messages that had been sent back and forth between Clay and Brian’s encrypted phones. With its ability to slip into the quantum realm, the encryption wasn’t that much of a chore. Moros could make billions of calculations every second so it wasn’t difficult for it to connect the mysterious satellite phone messages with the disappearance of the three soldiers couriering XV1.
Moros calculated there was a 97.3% chance that the two were linked and it easily established the GPS coordinates of Clay’s end of the communication. With only one person now to tell, it sent that information for human scrutiny. The three missing vials of XV1 now had a location. All that needed to happen was for Natasha’s laptop to be powered up and for that message to be read.
23.08.19
Leeds, UK
He had almost fallen asleep several times during his night-time vigil, boredom creeping up on a mind lacking stimulation. Iain had not returned however, and now with the day’s light wiping out the night, Andy knew it was time to end this once and for all. The thought that he was actually prepared to kill a man like this was somewhat of a shock to him.
He chose to leave the ground floor shutters down, only the front door to his property not protected in that manner. At some point he would cut up the ply board he had stored in his garage to cover the broken window, but that was a job for later, something perhaps to distract his mind from the after effects of what he was about to do. Andy had no idea how he was going to fare with this act psychologically, but Iain had proven to him that he was a threat that needed eliminating.
The cul-de-sac he lived on was quiet and deserted. He saw no twitching of blinds or curtains at any of the windows he saw. This did all represent a basic flaw in the position he found himself in. He was alone, and even with his barriers and his gun, he was vulnerable to the external threats that existed in the outside world. Andy should have thought more about that when he had considered the security measures he had originally taken. He had friends, some of them even in this city, but did he dare try and reach out to them? The phones didn’t work which meant going out to their locations physically. A mere ten minutes by car could be the best or the worst decision he could possibly make.
What if he was ambushed on the way? The shotgun was not a weapon that could easily be deployed inside a car. What if the people he sought out were infected, or not even home, the trip pointless? There were so many maybe’s that staying put and doing nothing seemed to be the only viable option at present. A car ride that had once been commonplace now held countless threats.
When he ha
d turned the TV on this morning, there had only been three channels that contained anything other than snow. All the local radio channels were playing messages on a recorded loop, only Radio 4 still having any semblance of a live broadcast. The news it gave was grim, still repeating the mantra that people should stay indoors and wait for further instructions. Perhaps worst of all, he had been unable to access the internet which had been the source of much of the information that swirled around his head. Had this all been done deliberately, or was it a side effect of a failing infrastructure? Andy didn’t believe things would fall apart that quickly which suggested to him this was what was left of the government, possibly even the army, trying to control the flow of information.
The world around him was falling in on itself. How long before the electricity went out? How long before the taps stopped running?
He wore the belt with the extra shotgun rounds over his chest, enough there to do the job that needed doing surely. The shotgun was loaded, and Andy made his way around the side of the house, unlocking the gate so as to get around the back of his property. Here he had relative privacy except from Iain’s house, Andy examining the shattered border fence from a distance. Satisfied that Iain wasn’t outside and that no missiles would be thrown at him from an open window, Andy moved closer to the felled barrier.
There was blood on the pale wood, as well as on the white stone patio that led to Iain’s back door. Andy had definitely hit the wanker with his shot last night, the amount of blood indicating he had inflicted a not insignificant wound. He paused as he prepared to step onto enemy territory, for once he did this, there was no taking it back. If order was restored tomorrow could he justify this? Would the law of the land see that this was the only choice he could have taken? Or would they apply the rules that existed prior to the crisis and see him as someone who needed locking up for the safety of the whole? It had not been deemed proper for people to take the law into their own hands, vigilantes and mob justice crushed wherever it occurred. Were any of the politicians who made those laws still alive though?
The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 2): The Rise Page 43
