Harry looked at his watch. ‘Shit, we’ve got to get going. Erin - we’re due on a bus in half an hour. How about we all meet out the front in twenty minutes, leave the goodbyes until then?’
***
Harry walked outside and dumped his duffle bag on the ground against the wall. The air was bitterly cold despite a blue sky and shining sun. Jindabyne was above the snow line in the Australian Alps, a gateway town to the ski fields of New South Wales. Harry was wearing a thick olive-green jacket over the regular field uniform. He pulled his beanie further down to cover his ears, zipped the jacket up to his chin and sat down on his bag to wait for the others.
Dull footsteps sounded on the path. Harry looked to the side, and saw his cousin Steph approach, trailed by Jai and Erin. On the road next to them, a bus pulled up to the curb and eased to a halt.
‘Looks like we’ll be spared any drawn-out goodbyes then,’ said Steph, trying to sound upbeat.
Harry found his mouth dry. When so many other Australians had fallen, the group had watched each other’s back for the past month and survived. ‘Look after yourselves, ok?’ he said as he shook Jai’s hand. ‘Your sister will hang out with me until Avalon airport – I think that’s where you change plane for King Island, isn’t it Erin?’ The girl nodded, looking utterly miserable.
Jai gave his sister a last hug, before letting her go to stand with Harry. Steph gave her and Harry a tight hug. ‘Stay safe. Until next time, yeah?’
Harry nodded, lost for words. Goodbyes always sucked, better to just have it finished with. He leant down to pick up his bag then boarded the bus, followed closely by Erin.
Steph and Jai stood on the curb for a few moments longer, then left to make their own meeting for the onset of recruit training. Jai cuffed at his eyes with the back of one hand.
‘It’s the dry alpine air, bloody irritating my eyes too,’ said Steph with a gravelly voice and forced smile as she gave Jai a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. ‘Let’s go start this shitty training camp, eh?’
Chapter Three
Jai got out of the army truck and stretched his hands above his head as he yawned. He and Steph had been allocated to the same platoon of recruits after the others had departed. They had left their few belongings, now reduced to army issued gear, in a long barracks filled with simple metal beds and thin mattresses. Their fellow recruits were a mixed bag of men and women ranging in age from sixteen to sixty-five. Most were from south coast towns, but there were a few that had made it from Sydney.
A training Sergeant had completed a brief roll call, then loaded them on two Unimog trucks without explanation. A bench seat ran along both walls of the back tray, with a canvas roof above. It did little to block out the bitter cold as the truck took them on a thirty-minute trip outside of Jindabyne, higher toward the ski fields.
Steph climbed down from the Unimog’s tray and stood on the side of the road next to Jai. He rubbed his hands together then leant forward to blow warm air into them, trying to bring back sensation to his fingers. Glancing up, Jai noted a series of long wooden buildings. The Sergeant stood at the entrance to the nearest one, arms crossed, waiting. He was middle aged, with steel peppering his moustache and the visible hair extending from under a beret. There wasn’t the slightest suggestion of softness about the man; his body was hard from thirty years of service, and eyes humourless. He finally lost patience with the last few recruits leaving the truck.
‘If you’re all quite finished wasting the army’s time, get your arses over here. Now!’
It had the desired effect, as each recruit bolted towards him. He looked at the group, slowly scanning their faces. Whatever he’d been searching for, the recruits apparently lacked it, as he shook his head in disappointment.
‘It’s my job to turn you into soldiers worthy of an ADF uniform. Whatever life you previously had, forget it. You’re all voluntary conscripts, and as such, the army owns you for the next four years.’ He paused, eyes drifting over the group for a moment. ‘We have a war ahead of us like no other, and I’m going to teach you all how to fight and survive from one battle to the next. So, that being said, let’s meet the enemy.’ The Sergeant swung the door wide open and stood to the side, indicating for the group to move inside.
Jai and Steph stepped through the wooden doorway into a windowless room, the far wall lost in shadow. Hands pressed into their backs from the recruits behind, pushing them deeper into the room until all stood inside. As Jai and Steph’s eyes adjusted to the light, rows of chairs emerged from the gloom. The room was hot compared to outside, and within moments Jai felt a prickle of sweat on his forehead.
‘Move in and take a seat,’ ordered the Sergeant.
The recruits filed forward, using touch as much as sight to find a seat. Once the last person had sat down, the Sergeant closed the door, plunging the room into absolute darkness. Everyone was silent, waiting with vague unease for the training session to begin. From the end of the room, came the sounds of a person slowly walking in uneven, shuffling paces: loose wooden boards groaning under its feet.
‘In many ways, the war you’re going to fight is simple,’ said the Sergeant in a low voice. ‘The difficult thing will be making yourself stand when all you want to do is run. The core skill that I will be teaching you, is how to control your fear.’
With a click, the Sergeant switched on the fluorescent lights above, twin tubes flickering into existence to bathe the long room in light. Twenty paces distant to the group, stood a wide metal cage lined with cyclone wire mesh. Inside was a Carrier, facing away from them, head stooped as it bumped into the far side of the cage. It was formidable in size, a man over six foot in height. It had a shaved head, the hypoxic white of its scalp marred only by a spattering of blood, dried to the colour of rust. Part of its right ear was missing, the bottom half removed in a crescent shaped bite. The Sergeant walked towards the cage, his features relaxed. Reaching the wire, he gave it a sharp kick with his foot then stepped back out of reach. The Carrier spun about, seeking out the noise that had disturbed its solitude. Unblinking eyes centred on the Sergeant, and it attacked. Four rapid lurching steps brought it to the edge of the cage. It smashed two fists against the wire, trying to reach the soldier, then opened its mouth and released an incoherent scream of rage. Fingers grasped onto the cage and began to shake the sides violently. Ignoring the creature’s efforts, the Sergeant turned his back on it and faced the recruits once more. His face remained passive, although he now gripped his service pistol lightly in his right hand.
‘Take a look at our enemy, one of many that we picked up on the highway for your training purposes. This is but a single example of millions that now swarm our country,’ said the Sergeant.
Behind him the Carrier emitted a deafening snarl, shaking the cage in an attempt to break through. Someone let out a gasp of fear, and chair legs scraped on the floor as several recruits unconsciously pushed backward to increase their distance from the ghoul. Jai looked to his side at Steph. Her face remained calm, however, her lips were parted as her breath rate increased, the only subtle clues that she was experiencing the same fear as him.
He looked back at the cage, scanning the margins of the structure to satisfy himself that the Carrier was unlikely to escape. Happy that the creature was well secure, he redirected his attention to the Sergeant once more.
‘This is what you have joined up to fight, and if you’re anything like me, to exact vengeance for the murders of family that we have all suffered. Take a good look. Although it looks human, it’s not anymore.’ The Sergeant’s voice began to gain volume as the disgust he felt for the creature behind him became evident. ‘It’s dead – whatever made it human is gone. And for us, that’s a good thing. It means it’s dumb as shit and predictable.’ He paused and sighed. ‘But it also means that we’ve had to learn how to fight a different type of war.’
The Sergeant turned back to the Carrier, raised his pistol and shot the creature through the knee. A few recruits jolted in th
eir seats, surprised by the casual violence of their teacher. The Sergeant acknowledged their reaction.
‘This session isn’t about torture, it’s to make a point about how your war will be different to any other we’ve fought, different to any war in human history.’
Behind him the Carrier tried to stand on the damaged knee, however it buckled sideways, sending it to the ground.
‘In any other fight, that injury would have taken the afflicted soldier out of action. It’s what many of our weapons are designed for, to maim and exclude the combatant from future aggression. Every fight is about how much punishment and violence a side is willing to accept before it gives in. And the value of your enemy living through an injury continues for the victor long after the battle is won. The amputee returns to his village, and his family and friends are reminded every time they look upon his crippled body the price to be paid for taking up arms against us. But this bastard virus has changed the rules,’ said the Sergeant as he turned and shot out the Carrier’s other knee.
The ghoul fell to the ground again but didn’t utter a single noise to indicate pain. It merely pulled itself upright on the edge of the cage and continued its attempt to reach the Sergeant.
‘It doesn’t care about pain, because it doesn’t feel any,’ spat the Sergeant. ‘It doesn’t care about dying because it’s already fucking dead.’ He shot it again, this time in the middle of the chest, the body only twitching at the bullet’s passage. ‘And it doesn’t care about injury, because although trauma may alter its ability to move, nothing short of brain destruction will stop it.’
The Carrier pressed its face against the wire, snarling at the Sergeant.
‘Because of this, no confrontation between our soldiers and the Infected will end until every Carrier on the field of battle is dead, and that’s a sobering thought. But for all mindless rage of the Infected, always remember – they’re dumb, predictable and can still be killed. All it takes is for you to remain calm and take out the brain.’
The lesson needed to come to an end. He pressed the pistol’s end against its forehead and pulled the trigger one last time. The back of the skull blew outwards, coating the ground in dry goblets of brain before the Carrier slumped to the ground, immobile.
Two recruits retched, emptying stomach contents over their own boots. The Sergeant ignored them. He looked down at the corpse and grimaced in disgust at some specks of gore that had spattered onto his boots. He holstered the pistol, then leant down to wipe off the offending gobs of flesh with a tissue. Satisfied, he stood again and looked at his class. Most were sitting still, wearing various shades of green after watching the display.
One of the recruits in the back row spoke up. ‘I get your point, but they used to be like you and me. Surely we should be treating their bodies with a little more respect than that?’
The Sergeant just raised an eyebrow in question. ‘Did you not hear a single word I just said?’
Jai couldn’t help himself, letting out a short laugh as he looked back over his shoulder.
‘What are you laughing at?’
‘Nothing mate, but I guess you’re from above the snow line?’ said Jai.
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ muttered the recruit, a pink flush creeping up his features at the unwanted attention.
‘Because anyone that’s fought these bastards, and lost family and friends under their teeth, wouldn’t care how they’re stopped, just as long as they go back to being dead again. Better them than you, that’s all I can say, mate.’
The Sergeant stopped and regarded Jai thoughtfully. ‘Listen to the kid. If more of you start thinking that way, you might actually survive your first engagement with the enemy.’ The Sergeant walked over to an adjacent wall where a whiteboard hung. ‘You guys are lucky. Most of the shit that recruits used to learn in the past has been ditched. There won’t be any prancing on parade grounds. The course has been stripped back and changed. You’ll learn how to manage your weapons: rifle, pistol, bayonet and something new that I think you’ll grow to love – but more on that later. First, you need to learn about working in team structures, and what we have learnt about the Infected.’ He paused briefly before picking up a whiteboard marker and turning back to the board.
‘Time to learn what sort of shit you’ve got yourselves into.’
Chapter Four
Mark lay on a narrow bunk bed, staring at the ceiling above. He’d tried to gain an hour of sleep during his shift break but couldn’t get his mind to shut down. Giving up, he rolled to his side and faced into the room. It was one of the dog boxes that passed as a dorm on the Navy Frigate. Space was at a premium. No-one had their own bed, instead a bunk slot was shared between up to three men as each got a chance to sleep on differing shifts throughout the twenty-four-hour day. Mark hated ships and had no idea how the poor bastards of the Navy survived on them for months at a time.
He’d been on the Frigate now for a fortnight. The short stint in Jindabyne still jabbed at his conscience. Even though he’d been powerless to refuse the deployment, it still felt like he’d abandoned his mates without even the chance to say goodbye. He could only hope they got proper training before being sent anywhere dangerous.
After the reconnaissance mission, the Marine squads had been split up and watered down with new soldiers. Mark felt he’d landed on his feet with his allocation. He’d been put in the same squad as Vinh and Nate. Since the mission, the shared experience had made the three of them firm allies. On a ship like this, there was little to do during down time, and he quickly learnt the background of his new mates. Vinh had a Vietnamese heritage, his parents arriving in Australia after the Vietnamese War as refugees. All Vinh had known however, was Australia. Born and raised in the western suburbs of Sydney, his accent was as broad as any Anglo. Standing at five foot six inches, he was a compact figure without a scrap of fat on him. Nate was a contrast. A country boy from Shepparton, he towered over his mate by a good six inches. He’d left school and enlisted in the army as soon as he was old enough. Nate had light brown hair, buzz-cut close to his scalp. He wasn’t so careful with his face, a two-day growth present at most times unless hassled by one of the officers to get it shaved.
Information about how the government and army were planning to tackle the Infected was finally trickling down to the soldiers who’d form the front line. Overall, the news wasn’t particularly reassuring. Australia would be solving their own problem. Key allies including America, New Zealand and the UK had denied requests for ground forces. All were reluctant to expose their soldiers to such an infection, or their government to the political repercussions that such support would likely bring. The USA had offered to attempt eradication of the Infected through aerial bombing, but this had been refused. If Australia was to have any chance in recovering post conflict, it wanted its cities intact, not raised to the ground. In any case, bombing had been largely ineffective, achieving less than 10% success. Unless a direct head strike was achieved, the Carriers continued with whatever remained of their bodies. Immolation was a different story, however, contained high risk for spreading fire uncontrolled to buildings and infrastructure.
This left little other option than a ground force invasion, and men like Mark and his squad would be the ones to make it a reality. Queenscliff had been chosen as a starting point as it lay at the end of a narrow peninsula, less than 200 metres wide at the neck that could be more easily defended in the long term. From there, it would be used as a launch site for reclamation of Geelong and its car manufacturing sector. Military vehicle manufacturing was crucial to troop safety in the long term of the war. Once regional towns had been reclaimed, Geelong would be the next base of close proximity to support a push into Melbourne.
The invasion of Queenscliff would be happening soon, likely within the next two days, dependent on weather. The plan at present was to land on the beach below Queenscliff Fort, and retake the defensive structure dating from pre-federation 1800’s, then use this fort as an ou
tpost to begin clearing the town.
Mark just wanted it to begin. He hated waiting, found it the hardest time to control fears and anxieties. It also gave him too much time to think of what he’d already lost, Georgie. She intruded on his thoughts constantly. The self-condemnation that he was largely responsible for her death, hung like a lead weight beneath his chest and blunted his thoughts. Mark needed the distraction of the fight to begin where he could pay back his perceived debt, one Carrier at a time.
Chapter Five
Steph sat on a bench outside, waiting her turn. A light drizzle of freezing rain sifted from the sky above, leaving a sheen of moisture on her clothes. She was lightly dressed for the temperature, only wearing basic combat uniform, webbing and her weapons. Despite this, she felt the first trickle of sweat roll down from her armpit. Not normally a person to fidget, she was finding it hard to suppress her nerves this time around, her knees bouncing while she sat.
Directly in front was a fenced area, solid timber panels rising three metres into the air to prevent escape of its contents. The training course was rapidly upping the tempo. After five days of near constant weapons drills, today would see the introduction of live Carriers. Granted, they would be pinned to a stake and unable to attack, but that wasn’t the issue. This next lesson was designed to deliberately unnerve the recruit while they performed a mock house clearance, however, the training Sergeant had been vague as to how this would be achieved. Steph placed her money on an orchestrated weapon malfunction.
A grotesque snarl from behind caused her to jerk around to find the origin of the noise. Two Carriers were being moved to the training field. Each ghoul was attended by a pair of soldiers, holding separate dog-catcher poles with a tightened loop about the Carrier’s neck to control its movements. The Carriers thrashed and lunged from the end of the poles, trying to reach their captors. The effort to control their charges showed on the soldiers’ faces, cheeks flushed and sweat pouring. As they drew close to the fenced area, the Sergeant rose from his seat and unlocked the gate for entry. He stood outside arms reach as the Infected passed through to the team inside.
Plague War: Pandemic Page 3
