Sergeant Turner gave a curt nod. “I think this runs deeper than the bad guys getting the big boss.”
Lena thought for a moment, knowing he could be right. “You mean like an inside man?” she asked.
“Yes,” he muttered, barely audible. “But I don’t know who.” He bit his lip with concern.
“It seems logical,” Harrison said. “How else would H.I.V.E. get the prime minister?”
Lena agreed. “I work with her closely. There is no way they just stumbled across her. Someone must have helped.”
Sergeant Turner sighed. He could handle chasing down a bad guy, but he struggled when the bad guy was an inside man who he’d worked with.
Lena placed a loving hand on his shoulder. She knew her father well, and she knew things like this weighed on him greatly. He had worked with the UKSF all his life, far longer than he should have. Usually, military only serve twenty-five years, but Lena knew her father had been serving for almost forty. He’d joined at a young age and stuck with it. His age now showed in the wrinkles around his tired eyes and in those creeping up his calloused hands.
“I’m too old for this.” He chuckled. After he’d taken the W-Virus, he was shocked to find his thick, gray hair was darker. Somehow, it had made him look much younger than a man of sixty-two. “I look young, but I’m really not.”
Barry snorted. “Don’t look a day over twenty-four,” he said, pulling his loose trousers over his stomach.
Lena burst into laughter. According to Barry, she and her father appeared to be the same age. “I don’t want to think about that, mate,” she told him jokingly. “Besides, we should get going.”
Harrison looked back at the Land Rover. “Is that our only transport?” he asked, nodding towards the adapted machine. “I definitely think we need to take it. The front of it can take out anything, and the back bumper is surely stronger than girders.”
“Like Iron Bru,” Barry added, “stronger than girders.”
Harrison cracked a small smile. He didn’t want to tell them that growing up he had always thought girders were the lace bands that grooms pulled off their new bride’s thigh. It was only in his last year of public school that he figured out that girders are iron beams and garters are the sexy lingerie.
Sergeant Turner became lost in his thoughts again, trying to figure out who the traitor helping the agents of H.I.V.E. was. He knew it couldn’t be Katherine McKinley. She was too sweet, and she had been his personal assistant for almost ten years.
It couldn’t be Joel Pearson either. The leading UKSF man had led many daring missions and had saved the prime minister countless times before, even earning him the Medal of Honor for his efforts.
Maybe it was Tim Joseph. The man had keys to every office, but he had to leave them in the building every night. How would he have gained the access with no one else knowing? His brain whirled with so many names and no answers.
“Dad?” Lena nudged her father gently. “Dad, are you okay?” she asked again, but he didn’t respond or even move.
Harrison turned his head to the rising sun. He’d been awake for almost an entire day, and the fatigue was setting in. “I’m off to find some hamsters,” he said unexpectedly. Without another word or second spared waiting for a response, he darted inside the airport terminal.
Emily stuck her bottom lip out in confusion, not understanding how hamsters would help the situation. “Why do we need hamsters?” she asked Barry, feeling a bit silly for inquiring about it at all.
He shrugged, having no idea what they were for either. “I don’t know, and I don’t know why he thinks he will find any in an airport terminal.”
Harrison burst through the door minutes later, his arms full of shiny orange and silver cans. “Behold, the hamsters!” he said triumphantly, standing back beside the group.
Barry took a can out of Harrison’s hairy hand, and he inspected the design, trying to figure out what the idea was behind a hamster in a can. “Harrison, what are these?” he finally asked after he found nothing on the label.
“You don’t know what a hamster is?” he asked seriously. He opened a can and chugged it fast. “It’s not like the actual animal in a can,” he said after seeing both Barry and Emily’s confused faces.
Emily smiled, relieved to hear it. She popped open the can and sniffed the bubbly contents. It smelled like peaches. “I love peaches!” she exclaimed as the scent reached her nostrils.
Harrison finished his can before explaining. “Hamsters are cheap energy drinks,” he said. They were his university nights in a can. It was how he’d survived the two years of business school before becoming an officer.
“They have lots of caffeine in them. It tastes amazing if you mix it with rum and whiskey. We used to call them hamster wheels.” He sighed. Talking about hamster wheels took him on a trip down memory lane, to places he’d forgotten all about. “They taste good, they’re cheap as heck, and they work the best out of all the other energy drinks.”
Barry nodded and sipped from his can. The frothy peach liquid ignited his taste buds. The zing of peaches made him gulp more of the hamster down. He was tired and hungry, and he hoped the energy boost would work. He’d survived off coffee and energy tablets when he needed to stay awake, but drinking the hamster made him wish he’d known about it before then.
“It’s good,” Emily told Harrison, sipping at the energy drink.
She wondered why they’d named the energy drink after a fuzzy pet that was most wanted by preteen children for their birthdays. “I’ve seen these on my way through various airports. Sometimes after you see something enough, you want to try it yourself. I never did, though because I’m always telling my son Harry not to drink these things. Now I know why.” She continued to sip her drink.
Sergeant Turner thought more about Joel. Maybe he would know who was helping the H.I.V.E. out. He remembered a time when Joel had met Stephen Silverdale, Asher Brannick’s creepy assistant. Joel had been gracious and as kind as possible, but he ended up getting security to escort Stephen out of his office. It made little sense. There was no one he could think of who would go against the UKSF.
Barry finished his can of hamster in no time. The delicious peach drink sparked a new sense of energy inside him, and he felt alive, awake, and ready to go rescue whoever needed him. “Let’s go!” he said, jumping up and down like an impatient child.
“No more hamsters for you.” Harrison laughed. He had finished his second energy drink and was eager to hit the road. They had wasted precious time talking and drinking, time that was better used saving Mrs. Owens from the evil crones of H.I.V.E.
“Barry?” Lena said. “We need weapons. Do you know where the police kiosk is in the terminal?” She knew it was a long shot asking him, but it was worth it.
Barry nodded. “I can go!” He’d seen it earlier on their way through the airport. It was close to the outside doors.
Lena wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to send him in alone, but she nodded. “Go to the kiosk and see if they have guns.” Barry nodded along as she spoke. “And take Harrison with you for added protection.”
Harrison gulped the remaining bit of his drink. “Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll look after the hyped-up hamster.”
Barry ran, excited to be moving on his own mission. He quickly raced through the airport, grateful for his sports training growing up. He’d been the school star at the one-hundred-meter sprint.
It didn’t take long for him to find the police office. It had a broken glass door, and the shards stuck out at awkward angles. Barry and Harrison carefully stepped through the broken door, avoiding the jagged edges.
A shiny metal desk sat at the front of the office. A torn and sorry-looking, bloodstained chair was pushed away from it. The two men stepped timidly through the office, unsure if there were zombies hiding in the corners. They had to be silent. Behind the door, Harrison found an empty room with a table and three chairs. He shook his head; it was just an interrogation room.
“Harrison,” Barry whispered as loud as he dared in the pitch-black room, “try that switch, will you?” He hoped it would work the lights, making their job much easier.
Harrison felt around in the dark, praying he wouldn’t touch anything slimy or scaly. His hand felt the metal fixture of a light switch. “I think I found it!” he hissed across the darkness to Barry.
He pushed the long lever down with all his strength, and a loud whirring noise filled the quiet. A bright overhead light flashed to life, quickly dispelling all the overwhelming darkness. Barry squinted in the sudden bright light.
“Holy shit.” Harrison whistled at the sight in front of him.
Barry looked like a goldfish with the way his mouth hung open. What he saw amazed him. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he added to Harrison’s pure amazement.
Lockers lined the room. Taped on each one was a whiteboard with scribbled references to the contents. Harrison stepped slowly down the first aisle.
Three light ice cream scoops. Four knobble busters. One long-armed octopus.
Harrison smiled to himself. Finally, he could use his training from the army in real life. He’d taken an arms identification course after leaving the medic team. He’d wanted to work on bases, organizing and identifying the different weaponry.
“Uh…” Barry’s voice floated between the locker aisles, “mate, do you understand any of this?” he asked, staring at the whiteboard. “Three chipmunk teeth? One hairy dog and fifteen big jelly bean eels?” He couldn’t believe what was written on the whiteboard was inside the locker. The thought of fifteen eels was just unreasonable, especially at an airport.
Harrison laughed quietly to himself. He liked hearing Barry’s amusement. “Yeah, mate. It means what it tells you,” he joked, playing with Barry’s confusion.
“Okay, but I can’t honestly believe this locker contains chipmunk teeth and fucking eels you little shit-faced army man,” he hurled back at Harrison, knowing he was being toyed with.
Harrison held his stomach because he was laughing so hard. He had never thought about how the classification systems would seem to an outsider. “It’s code for the weapons inside used by the army and police forces to avoid anyone stealing the lockers.”
Barry nodded, reaching to pull the locker door open. “It’s locked, mate. Sorry, no chipmunk teeth for you,” he said in defeat.
“Try the code 1953 on the code pad,” he called over the lockers, his voice echoing against the metal doors. “That should work. The police use one code, and the military use another. I happen to know both.”
Barry pressed the stiff numbers in order, and the red light turned green. He pulled the door open and smiled. “We hit the jackpot, baby!” He giggled to himself. He’d never seen so many weapons before in his life. His brain went wild with new game ideas for when the zombie apocalypse was over, and the world returned to something more normal.
“Just wait till you see what chipmunk teeth are.” Harrison chuckled to himself, selecting good weapons from another locker.
“Oh, my God!” Barry screamed loudly as he opened the box with the chipmunk teeth in it. “They’re grenades!” It partially surprised him to see the three explosives cushioned perfectly in the metal case.
Harrison finished a third locker, hauling the duffel bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go, chipmunk cheeks.”
Barry emptied the locker as quickly as possible.
Four hides of deer, frog’s breath, nine heavy ice cream scoops.
Barry opened the locker without looking at what was inside. He gently threw the content into his own Adidas duffle bag. The bag grew heavier as he went along, but the police safe was the jackpot of weaponry.
As Harrison emptied the final locker, they heard a low snarl coming from the office adjacent to the gun safe. Barry gulped. It was a zombie, and for the first time, he was armed and ready. He shot a glare at Harrison, trying to tell him that he would go and tackle the figure outside.
Barry tiptoed out of the safe, clutching a single handgun in his sweaty palm. They had been the eels in the first locker. He quietly ejected the magazine and verified it was loaded before pushing it back inside the gun.
He shuffled closer to the growling noise, gripping the gun tightly. He peered out over the metal front desk, and a gray figure stared back angrily. He wore a high visibility vest covered in police insignias. He also wore a blue police cap crookedly perched on his gnarled head.
“Aim for the head, like your characters do.” He talked to himself as quietly as possible as he cocked the gun, aiming it at the center of the zombie’s face. “Inhale,” he said just before he breathed in. “Exhale,” he said before releasing it.
Barry focused on his target, ready to take his first ever shot. In an instant, a blinding flash shot through the office, causing the remaining glass in the door to shatter and crumble to the floor.
The zombie shrieked a loud, ear piercing noise that radiated through Barry’s brain. The enemy fell to his knees as he slowly struggled and almost melted to the floor. In under a minute, nothing but a bubbling blob of zombie flesh remained of the once snarling enemy.
All six bullets still sat in the chamber.
Barry checked and rechecked the chamber. “How is that possible?” he mumbled, checking the chamber for the last time.
Harrison emerged behind him, pulling Barry up by his collar. “Stop wasting time, you little shit,” he said through his gritted teeth. “We don’t have time to waste.”
Barry wriggled out of Harrison’s grip. He’d done nothing. It was Harrison who had killed the zombie. “Why the fuck did you do that?” Barry spat angrily.
Harrison said nothing as he stepped through the broken door. “You were taking too long.” He turned back to face Barry. “Now come on—hurry up. We got a world to save.”
Barry hurried past the larger man, heading towards the exit. He was mad that he hadn’t been quicker. He was angry that Harrison had stepped in when he was so close to pulling the trigger.
Barry pushed through the exit doors into the dawning day. He was ready to be a part of the mission, and he was ready to make a name for himself. Most of all, he was ready to help save the world.
Chapter Three
Sean joined the main road with fear in his heart. He’d never been to Buckingham Palace before and never imagined he would need to go save the queen. He drummed his nervous fingers on the leather material covering the steering wheel.
“Sean, I don’t mean to be out of line here…” the soft voice of Ryan Moo crackled through the intercom. Ryan was good at following orders, but he always liked to know exactly what those orders were. Half plans didn’t suit him well. “Mate, where are we going?”
Sean had forgotten that the other members of his team hadn’t heard the conversation with Sergeant Turner, and therefore, had no idea what was going on. “We’re going to Buckingham Palace.” He told the other two remaining men of the platoon.
Nathan Davids followed Ryan’s rover at a safe distance. With the front modifications, he was nervous of bashing the rear end of another Land Rover. “I guess we aren’t getting medals.”
“Right on there, Nathan,” Sean told his comrade. “The bad guys have the queen,” he added, trying to give them more information.
“Who exactly are the bad guys?” Ryan asked.
Sean didn’t know how to answer that. They were agents of H.I.V.E., which he knew was a drug company that made billions off their antivirus drugs, but he wasn’t sure how much anyone else knew about them. “They’re H.I.V.E. workers. Are you familiar with them?” He hoped his friends would have a better idea of what they would soon face.
Nathan sighed. “Of course, we get stuck going up against a huge drug company. It seems odd they kidnapped the queen. How were they able to kidnap such a high-ranking member of the British
public?”
“Are they Scottish then?” Ryan tried to joke. “Fuck it. That sounded much worse than I imagined.” He had a bad habit of telling bad jokes without thinking them through.
Sean chuckled at the awkward joke. If only they were Scottish. At least their attack would make a bit more sense. “No, mate. They’re after something else.” He stared at the passing countryside.
Sean loved his country. He was proud to be a defender in the army, out to save people and do his patriotic duty. He smiled as they drove through the green, rolling hills of his homeland, a land he loved enough to fight and even die for. He knew his men felt proud as they followed the small convoy to the Queen’s palace.
“Uh, Sean… There’s only three of us against a mob of angry zombies,” Ryan stated. They had succeeded once, but they knew it would be hard to stage a daring rescue with just the three of them.
Sean held the microphone to his lips for a moment. “Sergeant Turner told me to contact the members of the EJG. Maybe they’ll have some weapons.”
Ryan chuckled. “Probably something a hell of a lot better than my silly pink umbrella.”
Sean knew Nathan had to be excited. He’d had a large poster of the EJG logo on his wall throughout his childhood. He’d wanted to join the elite platoon as his father did before him, but his minor heart problem disqualified him from the tests. Nathan had told Sean of the fond memories of his father even down to the final memory of laying the EJG flag at his graveside.
“Nathan,” Ryan said again as Nathan’s Land Rover drove perilously close to the edge of the road. “Nathan, mate, focus on the road.”
Nathan’s vehicle straightened back out, and his voice soon crackled across the comm. “I can get in contact with EJG.”
It relieved Sean to hear Nathan’s offer. He’d been dreading needing to contact them all along but didn’t want to say anything. “Sure, man. That would be a huge help.”
Nathan beamed from ear to ear. He kept one hand steady on the wheel and his eyes on the road as he fished the crumpled business card from his vest pocket. He always kept it over his heart to remember his father by. No one ever knew it was there alongside his father’s dog tags.
Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3 Page 2
