The Blood of the Infected (Book 2): Once Bitten, Twice Live

by Stanton, Antony J.

  As the sky began to lighten the soldier awoke with a jolt, as though from a bad dream. He rubbed his head, trying to clear whatever thoughts were trapped there, then stood and stretched. He was just preparing his pipe when the next man entered the guardroom. They briefly spoke, the new man made a joke and they both laughed although Sebastian could tell even from that range that the grey haired man was forcing his mirth. The replacement tried to engage him in further conversation but he was keen to go, and Sebastian, sharing his sentiments, got up to leave. The night had been of vague entertainment value but had not produced the results he had hoped for and he felt an unusual sense of disappointment. However, there had been something uplifting about being so proximate to the presence of humans. He almost felt as though he was once again part of their world, part of their story. For now though, he had seen enough and he started to walk slowly back towards his clan and his temporary refuge. Where else could he go? He knew in his heart that the longevity of their lifespan was indeed a blessing, but the futility sometimes weighed heavily upon him. Survival did not always seem to be quite enough, in itself, to justify their existence. His spirits dipped as he neared the presbytery, contemplating what troubles the future may hold for them all. He could never possibly have imagined however, exactly how bad the troubles were about to become.

  As Sergeant Vallage left the guardroom he pulled his blue puffer jacket around himself tightly and stopped for a moment to light a match. The morning sky looked promising and he sucked rapidly on the end of his pipe as a pleasing waft of smoke rose from it. He stood quietly enjoying the peace and the taste of the tobacco. His gruff demeanour did not accurately represent his reasonably optimistic outlook. Life always reminded him of one of those snow globes; no matter how hard it was shaken, after a while things settled down and returned to a calm normality. He could not bring himself to see things differently even now, even after everything that had befallen them all. He stood in the same spot as he had the evening before when the troops had returned to Headley Court from their mission to the GVF Laboratories. He was briefly reminded of the moving scene he had witnessed. Even in such evil times it was a blessing to have moments of purity, when humanity at its best has a chance to flourish. He had observed with secret, benevolent pleasure the blossoming relationship between Liam Wood and that nice young girl Charlotte Collins, rather like an uncle watching a favoured nephew fall in love for the first time. He had heard the soldiers talking and knew that many viewed Wood as cold, arrogant and devoid of emotion; The Ice Man, they called him, but always quietly and behind his back. But he also knew that Wood was a good man with a genuine heart. Whatever were his reasons for keeping his feelings so tightly bound and hidden, his sentiments towards Collins were real and growing, and undeniable.

  CHAPTER 15

  Corporal Charlotte Collins awoke with a gasp and a jolt, sitting bolt upright in panic as she so often did these days. Previously she would have called herself a ‘morning person’, looking forward to the day with energy and enthusiasm. Invariably that would have started by walking her dog which was always a time of peaceful reflection, collecting her thoughts in an almost meditative fashion. Since Cujo had been ripped apart by the frenzied mob, giving his life to save hers, that pleasure was no longer an option. Lately it seemed to take her a few seconds before the pain hit her, winded her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She found it hard to drag herself out of bed during that initial torrent of agonizing memories. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes tightly shut against them. She knew that in five years, ten years, even one hundred years, everything that had happened and was continuing to happen would matter less and less, but at the moment it was all so unimaginably horrid and impossibly hard to deal with.

  The deluge receded as she controlled her breathing and tried to slow her heartbeat. Then hesitantly she allowed her eyes to flutter open, permitting reality to abduct her consciousness. The first thing she saw was Wood’s head beside her on the pillow. He looked to be asleep, his breathing was even and she marveled at how untroubled he seemed. In fact he always seemed to be untroubled and although his apparent lack of emotion bothered her at times, it was also a great source of strength for her. She lay still, quietly observing him for only a few seconds before he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Why are you staring at me?” He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

  “How did you know? Your eyes were shut. Are you in league with Lucifer or something?”

  “I’m like a ninja, I never really sleep. I only rest with my eyes closed. How are you? Did you sleep okay?”

  She did not want to tell him that her sleep was disturbed with dreams of marble busts in petrol stations that came to life and danced in front of her, of dark figures with penetrating eyes that chased her and from which there was no escape. All very jumbled up and confusing, as were most of her dreams these days. What was nearly as confusing and surprising was that, despite the incident with the two strangers destroying the crowd of infected, and then of the woman biting Bannister’s neck and apparently drinking his blood, there had been very little talk of it on base since. She assumed that it was just too much for people to take in. Too strange to believe, too hard to comprehend, and there was too much else for them all to be worrying about at the moment, like basic, day to day survival. Nevertheless it had felt like a collective, unspoken decision to ignore the event, not to mention it again and she found it peculiar and unsettling. She felt the need to discuss it with someone. Lately as they became closer, she had been confiding more and more in Wood but for once she could not bring herself to discuss this particular subject with him.

  “Yes I slept well thanks,” she lied. “And you?”

  “Hmmm, not so well. Nightmares.”

  “Of yesterday?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. Today, yesterday, the day before, the week before, all of it really.”

  She was surprised at his candid admittance of actually being affected by all the horrors of the world at large. He rarely spoke of it and she assumed that must be his method of handling it. “How was it at the labs? Bad?”

  He looked grim and nodded, turning away from her, hiding the pained flicker on his face. “Yep. Pretty bad.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He slowly shook his head with a sad, resigned look in his eyes. “Not really, not now.”

  “How do you deal with it? I mean how do you stop it from getting to you.”

  “Me personally, I just get on with it. It is what it is. It’s absolute hell out there but letting it get to me won’t make things any better. We have to stay alive for each other so I just bury it at the back of my mind and get on with the job. I guess I’ll have to deal with it all at some stage but not just yet, and by the time I get round to it I may well be dead or infected. I guess some people are better at facing it than others. Believe me; I’ve seen some pretty shocking things in my time, some really unimaginable cruelty and some truly evil people. But the sick out there - they’re not evil. They’re not attacking us through spite, or greed, or malice. They’re just acting through base instincts. They’re not really human any more; they’re nothing more than shells of their former selves now. Just like the people with dementia that the Dem-buster was supposed to cure.”

  He had obviously pondered the subject a fair amount, especially after a conversation with Lewis, a few days before. Clearly, she thought, he was better at compartmentalizing his emotions than she was. She could not even begin to imagine what type of controlled person could bury the amount of fear and trauma that must surely accompany the experience they had all had in the GVF laboratories. His ability to rationalize his feelings really was quite something and she assumed that was why he was always slightly cold and aloof to everyone, even towards her. She wondered if she would ever get the chance to break through his barriers and see the real person sheltered within but tried not to think too deeply about it. Now was most certainly not the time.

  As he leaned aw
ay from her she noticed some scars running down his back. There were several and they dissected his shoulders, leading all the way down to his buttocks. How on earth had he become wounded like that? She traced a finger delicately down the longest but he pulled away. Again she was desperate to know him a little better but again, now was not the time.

  “Do you think we can save them?” She looked with hope into his eyes, wanting him, needing him, to say the right thing, but she also wanted the truth.

  He shrugged and looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I have to believe that. If man created this problem, I guess there must be a way to solve it and make it all right. We’ve just gotta hold on and find that way. That’s the most important thing now. To stay alive long enough to find a cure and try to bring these people back. It’s well beyond me to do that but I just hope the doctors can.”

  She smiled and kissed him. “You’re a good man, you know that.”

  “Nah, don’t be fooled.”

  “Well I’m glad you got home safely. Really glad.” She was smiling at him and whole-heartedly meant her words, but she could not help the feeling of duplicity as her thoughts skittered back and forth to those hazel-coloured eyes, fixing her in the dark. It was all so confusing but she could just not get Sebastian out of her mind, the vampire who had saved them at the petrol station and had come to visit her in the guardroom. Like Wood she tried to bury these thoughts at the back of her mind. She too would deal with these issues someday - but not today...

  Millington was also awake and was his usual, happy, energetic self. He went looking for his best mate, whistling as he strolled through the corridors of Headley Court. He knocked on the door to Bannister’s bedroom but there was no answer. He knocked again and there was a faint groan from inside so he opened the door. He took a step inside before the musty odour made him stop.

  “Strewth man! It’s like the Black Hole of Calcutta in here. Open a window.”

  The air was stale and stuffy like a dirty gymnasium changing room and Bannister’s clothes were strewn haphazardly around the floor. The man himself was lying in bed, staring listlessly through the crack in the curtains, looking extremely sorry for himself. His eyes were half closed and his breathing was weak and irregular.

  “You look rough,” Millington muttered. “You okay?”

  Bannister did not even turn to look at him. “I feel ill.”

  He looked to be shivering, his skin was grey and he made no attempt at hiding the bite mark on his neck. Millington saw it and whistled.

  “Good lord! What the hell’s that? What really happened to you man?”

  Bannister moaned again and drew a deep breath. “Like I said, a vampire bit me.”

  “Yeah right,” Millington laughed. “If you say so. You gonna change into a vampire yourself then?”

  Bannister turned and stared at his friend and for a moment his glance was really quite unnerving, reflecting none of the mirth that Millington had tried to inject into the conversation. The moment of intensity passed, he said nothing but went back to staring out of the window, his eyes focused a thousand yards away.

  “Come on man, I’m starving. Are you coming for breakfast?”

  “Nah, not hungry. You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Millington was about to go but hovered by the door. He did not want to leave his friend looking this bad but as Bannister was not talking it made for a stilted conversation.

  “Are you sure you’re all right? You need a tablet, some water, anything? You look and smell like death.”

  Bannister snorted. “No. Really I’m okay. I just need some more sleep. I’ll catch you later.”

  Millington closed the door quietly but for once even he felt uneasy. He was usually an extremely positive person, never seeing the worst in anyone and always cheerful, but now his normal optimism was slowly being eaten away, replaced by a dark foreboding. He looked back at his friend’s room and he was worried. Ever since the failed mission to the petrol station Bannister had not been himself. He had been withdrawing from the rest of the base, isolating himself even from Millington, his best friend. He looked ill, his skin was grey and drawn with dark circles under his eyes and he was hardly eating anything. Bannister was a quick-witted and chatty individual but now his demeanor was sullen and resentful and even Millington, who was normally oblivious to his friend’s somewhat scathing comments, could not help but notice. He had ignored and laughed off the talk about vampires, as they all had. It was, after all, far too ridiculous to even contemplate, but there was something definitely wrong. His friend had clearly been bitten by something. He suspected that this matter was not yet over and could not help but think it would not end well. He determined to look out for his friend and, where necessary, protect him even more than he already did. Till death do they part…

  The mood at RAF Headley Court was a complete mix. There was elation that the troops had returned home with two more survivors and word had got around that they had found some information that may prove extremely useful. All of this would ordinarily have made for a light-hearted atmosphere, even surrounded as they were by the terrors of life outside the safety of the base. However they all knew of Senior Aircraftman Freddie Samuel’s death and the fact that Private Darby had been bitten, and there was a strange muddle of emotions. People were happy one minute, silent and morose the next.

  If the dining area was now the soul of the station, then the medical section represented the heart. Nevertheless it was a particularly gloomy place to be. Samuels may not have not been the bravest soldier, the most knowledgeable medic or the most vivacious personality, but he was well-liked and had a good nature. In such a close-knit section they all felt his loss keenly. Unfortunately for them they were extremely busy and had no time to mourn. The two children seemed to have settled in remarkably well. It was as if they instinctively realized that without the kindness and protection of the strangers in whose company they now found themselves they would surely have perished. After just one night on the base, Isabelle had adapted particularly quickly. She had eaten a large dinner and an even larger breakfast. Mentally she seemed to be as unscathed as one could possibly hope and along with Josh, she had been put in the care of May Williams and Reggie Pethard. There were a few reasons why this seemed to be a good idea. Firstly it was prudent to keep the children under observation and as a nurse Williams was ideal for this job. The two children could help each other to an extent, providing comfort and friendship and so far that seemed to be working. However it also seemed to be helping Pethard to stay focused. It gave him a useful role and avoided him having too many spare moments to reflect on the brutal death of his wife at the hands of Sergeant Matteo Abbott.

  Throughout the night Corporal Newman along with Privates Howes and Hanson had shared the vigil by the bedsides of Darby and the other survivor they had rescued from the laboratories - Bennett. Every time Bennett had stirred they had fed him a little of the electrolyte solution. At first he had not seemed to be able to keep anything down and they feared for his survival but by dawn, after relentless efforts on all their parts and the drip that had been plugged into his veins, he finally started to respond. His periods of consciousness were still fairly limited but he was gradually becoming more lucid and occasionally able to speak, although at this stage they did not want to push him too much. By the time that Squadron Leader Singleton and Dr Handley reported for work Bennett was sleeping soundly and his breathing was far less laboured.

  It was Darby who was the main source of worry. He had been kept sedated all night but by morning they had stopped his medication and allowed him to wake naturally. As the two doctors arrived in the surgery he was starting to come round. At first he was confused and could not work out why he was tied down but as he became more coherent his awareness returned, along with the memories of the previous day. He was inconsolable but also angry and started to remonstrate with the medics. They were concerned that his irate outbursts may be indicative that the contamination from the bite he h
ad received from Dr Boxall was already taking a hold of him and altering his character.

  Singleton arrived just after Handley. As she entered Handley looked up at her and she could not help but notice there were dark smudges under his eyes. Nevertheless he smiled and appeared guardedly optimistic.

  “Morning boss, how are you today? Sleep okay?”

  She returned the smile and hoped that her blush was not evident as she looked down and fiddled with her sleeves. She did not think that anyone knew about her fleeting tryst with Lewis, nor that she had spent the night in his bed, but she could not help but feel that her soul was laid bare. “Not bad thanks. You?”

  “I’ve had better nights. My mind was buzzing and kept me awake but when I finally got to sleep I had terrible nightmares. I guess that’s normal after the day we had yesterday.” He turned now to Newman who was still on duty, Hanson and Howes having both gone to bed after a long night. “Anyway, how are the patients?”

  “Hmmm, see for yourself,” Newman said and grimaced, but they did not need to actually go any closer in order to check, as Darby had just started shouting. The three of them went to speak to him together.

  “What’s going on? Why am I tied up?” he yelled as soon as he saw them.

  “You were tied up on the orders of the Station Commander,” Handley answered, “in case you started to, errm, ‘turn’. I’m sorry, really.”

  “Well I’m not sick but I am bloody uncomfortable. Let me go.”

  Handley looked at his colleagues and shrugged. “Any reason not to – for the time being?”

  He was clearly still in full control of his faculties, if a little belligerent, and none of them could think of a good reason to keep him bound up at the moment.