by Luke Duffy
She shook her head, stubbornly standing her ground.
“What can they do?” She asked with a defiant smile. “Court-martial me? They can go ahead, but I’m not going anywhere until I know we have done everything we can to help the men, and you’re a cunt for even contemplating that I would even consider deserting them and leaving them to rot, Gerry.”
Her last comment made him blink, and his words become lodged in his throat, unsure if he had heard her correctly. He could see that she was adamant in her decision. Nothing would persuade her to do otherwise and he wished that General Thompson were still there to reinforce his orders and have Samantha dragged to the helicopters if necessary.
Gerry, as the Operations Officer, was the most senior rank left on station, the others having already been evacuated.
“Sam, please,” he implored her, “as soon as we get to the other end, we can re-establish comms and see what we can do.”
“Save it, Gerry,” she spat, holding up her hand and then turning away from him. “I know how much of a gang-fuck it will be and it will be too late by the time we have our systems up and running again.”
He sighed heavily, feeling his control slipping from his fingers and knowing that he was beating his head against the hardest stone wall on the planet. Samantha was a strong-willed and extremely loyal woman. The sense of duty she felt towards Stan and his men, was surpassed only by her efforts to make them believe that she did not care.
“Okay,” he finally succumbed, speaking in a defeated tone as his shoulders dropped and his body physically deflated as he realised he had lost. “Do what you think you need to do, Sam, but can I ask just one favour?”
She turned back to him, her arms folded tightly across her chest and a scowl carved into her features. Her defences were up and Gerry knew that there was no way through or around them. Only a complete surrender of his own convictions would bring a cease-fire at that moment and he would need to compromise.
“What is it?” She asked, unwilling to show any cooperation or sign that she was prepared to negotiate.
“When I get to the island, I’ll do my best to get the Ops up and running as soon as I get there. Hopefully, within the next twenty-four hours, we will have comms and a full over-watch on Stan and the lads. Once we’ve established comms, will you drag your stubborn arse out of here and join us?”
A smile, both of victory and satisfaction, threatened to crease her lips, but Samantha fought against it and managed to keep her poker face intact.
“Once you’re up and running, Gerry, but not a moment before,” she nodded.
“Great,” Gerry answered, feeling relieved that they had reached a settlement. “I’ll cover for you and if The Prince of Darkness asks, I’ll tell him you’ve gone sight-seeing around the island, or something like that.”
Samantha finally smiled.
“In the meantime,” Gerry continued, turning his body slightly and indicating the woman standing beside him. “I’d like to introduce you to Lieutenant Frakes. She is your pilot and the poor soul you have just stitched up to stay in this hell-hole with you. I’m sure she’ll be pleased about that.”
Samantha suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She reached out, shook the American pilot’s hand, and smiled apologetically, unsure of how to react or what to say.
“Melanie, please call me Melanie,” the pilot replied in a distinct New York accent. “I don’t see the point in using rank with all that’s going on.”
Samantha looked at them both with concern.
“No, you should leave. Honestly, I’ll be fine here. Jonesy and Emma have already said that they won’t leave until I do. You should join the evac, Lieutenant.”
She paused and corrected herself.
“Sorry, I mean, Melanie. We have weapons and can take care of things. There’s no need to risk anyone else.”
Gerry shook his head resolutely.
“No chance, Sam. If this place falls, you need a way out. The Lieutenant will stay, ready to pull you out at a moment’s notice. I’m not leaving you stranded and me having to face Thompson, being forced to explain why his favourite captain was left to rot. That’s a rock and a hard place that I don’t want to find myself wedged into.”
Samantha almost blushed. She had no idea that General Thompson thought so highly of her, but it would explain why he was always more understanding and lenient to her rebellious moments.
“Okay,” she finally nodded and turned to Melanie, “I’m really sorry to drag you into this. It’s not what I wanted.”
The Lieutenant smiled back at her sympathetically and looked down at the state of her own uniform.
“Don’t worry about it. It will give me the chance to clean up a little. Besides, it’s good to meet someone who cares what happens to their troops. You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that.”
She reached up and began to untie her hair, sighing with relief as she felt the tension ease from her scalp. She ran her fingers through the knots that had formed in her long brown locks, massaging them with the tips of her fingers.
“We were the last to make it out from Lakenheath. The place fell pretty quickly once the perimeter was breached. Our commanders; they either died in the fighting, or fled. Most of our people never made it.”
Again, she looked down at the encrusted blood stains, smeared all over her grey and dark blue camouflage patterned uniform.
Her voice became hollow, and filled with sadness.
“Me and my crew, we had to fight our way through hundreds of our friends. They had turned and were attacking us. When we finally made it to our aircraft, there was only me and the co-pilot left.”
The three of them remained silent for a moment, seeing that the young woman was vividly remembering the events that had brought her there.
“You sound like you could do with a brew,” Samantha finally said, making light of the atmosphere and encouraging a smile from Melanie. “We British folk can deal with anything, as long as we have a cup in our hand.”
“Right then,” Gerry began as he took a step forward and grabbed Samantha by the hand. “Twenty-four hours, Sam. It’s time for me to leave, but I promise that I’ll get the Ops up and running as quickly as I can. Good luck.”
“You too, Gerry.”
He turned away and headed out through the door where his security team waited for him on the other side, ready to escort him to his aircraft and to join the evacuation.
Samantha walked away and returned a few minutes later, placing a plastic cup, filled with coffee, on to the desk where Melanie had taken a seat. She paused for a moment, considering her approach then, began asking the questions that she had been fighting the urge to bombard her with while Gerry was still lurking within earshot.
“What kind of aircraft is it? How much fuel do you have?”
“It’s a CH-47, a Chinook,” Melanie replied. “Not much in the way of fuel though, I’m afraid. Just enough to get us to the Isle of Wight, hopefully.”
She looked up and watched the response of Samantha as she took a sip from the cup. She could see that the captain was working something out in her head and Melanie believed that she knew exactly what she was contemplating.
“I know what you’re thinking, but we won’t make it. The helo is pretty banged up as it is, and with our current fuel levels, we wouldn’t be able to reach your guys and make it back. We would end up having to ditch somewhere.”
“Shit,” Samantha hissed.
That was her plan scuttled before it could even be seriously considered, never mind put into practice. She suddenly felt deflated and sighed heavily.
“Where’s your co-pilot?”
“On the landing pad with the Chinook,” Melanie replied, motioning towards the door with a slight cock of her head. “He’ll stay there until we’re ready to leave. Gerry was kind enough to supply us with a couple of guys to fill the gaps in our aircrew. They’ll act as our door gunners if need be. We have plenty of weapons and ammo, but only dregs in terms of fuel and I d
on’t know of anywhere else to get any.”
Samantha pictured the aircraft in her mind’s eye. She knew where the landing pad was; along one of the tunnels and up into the basement of one of the high-rise office blocks. To get to the roof, they would need to climb the stairs behind the service elevator of the offices. All in all, it would probably take them at least seven minutes to get there, and that was on a good day, without the added threat of dead people chasing them.
She reached under her desk and pulled out a green canvas satchel. A number of metallic clunks resonated from within the bag as she placed it onto the table. Next, she pulled out her rifle, a British Army issued SA80-A2.
She pulled back the cocking lever, checked the chamber and then proceeded to slide in a full magazine that she took from the canvas ‘grab-bag’. Next, she chambered a round. The sound of the working parts slamming forward, echoed loudly through the high ceilinged room, both unnerving and reassuring in the same instance. She checked the safety catch then slung the weapon over her shoulder.
“I’ll be keeping this close,” she said with a smile, looking down at the young blood spattered pilot.
“I don’t blame you,” Melanie smiled back at her and patted the pistol that was secured in the drop holster attached to her thigh.
“That’s Jonesy, over there,” Samantha said, stepping away from her desk and pointing over her shoulder to a young red haired man who was barely visible in the dimly lit Operation’s Room. “He’s our comms guru.”
She turned and directed her attention at him.
“You’re a proper nerd aren’t you, Jonesy?”
“Why?” The man asked without looking up from his post. “Just because I know how to turn on a computer and like to play World of Warcraft?”
“Well that’s two steps closer to being a nerd than most people, I suppose,” Melanie added quietly with a grin.
Samantha nodded her agreement and smiled. Already, she was warming to the young American, seeing that despite the horror she had obviously been through, her character refused to be broken.
“That over there,” she said, indicating another shadowy figure who had begun to move towards the coffee machine. “That’s Emma.”
The woman waved, only fleetingly giving Samantha and the Chinook pilot her attention, then continuing on with what she was doing. Melanie was barely able to make out any details of her in the darkness, but the one thing that she could clearly identify, was the dull glint of gun metal from the rifle that she too, carried slung over her shoulder.
“What happened at Lakenheath?” Samantha asked, turning her attention back to Melanie.
She was curious to know how such a strongly defended base could crumble into complete anarchy so easily.
Melanie shook her head.
“I really don’t know,” she replied in confusion. “We had been out for almost twenty-four hours, running rescue missions and supporting the ground units that were being forced back and getting overrun. We were exhausted and trying to get some rest, then the alarms went off and the guns started.”
She hesitated for a moment.
“It was total chaos. People were running everywhere. The base was full of refugees and I think that’s how they got in. No one knew what was happening and people were being caught in the crossfire.
“We had to run,” she added with a hint of shame. “There was nothing we could do, so we ran. Mike, my co-pilot and I were the only ones to get out from our unit. The rest of them…” she shuddered at the memory and screwed her eyes shut. “They were killed and…eaten by those things out there.”
Samantha nodded sympathetically, clearly seeing the grief and terror that her new friend was going through.
“Now you’re stuck here because of me? I’m sorry, Melanie.”
The Lieutenant looked up, wiped the tear from her eye, and forced a smile.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, Sam,” she said in a breaking voice but trying her best to sound upbeat. “It’s our duty. The world may be screwed up, but we still have a job to do. You want to help your guys, and I want to help you.”
For the next couple of hours, Samantha ran through their operation with Melanie, telling her about the team make-up and what their mission had been. She showed her the bio readouts of the team and how they were overlaid onto real-time satellite imagery. She explained how Jonesy was keeping track of their movements and staying in communications with them, while Emma kept her eyes on the countrywide events that could possibly have an impact on the progress of Stan and his men.
Emma pointed to the screen in front of her, showing a digital map of the country with various colours, indicating the status of the different cities and towns. Even the road systems, airports and harbours were highlighted, and depending on their colour, they were listed as safe, under attack, or overrun.
Melanie gasped as she leaned forward and stared in disbelief at the monitor. There were more patches of red than there were of any other colour, and as she continued to look, a flashing amber light turned to a constant red.
She squinted and read the name of the city.
“Liverpool,” she said aloud.
Emma nodded.
“There’s more and more of them falling by the minute. Yesterday morning, the greens outnumbered the reds and ambers. Now, there are only a few places left that are considered safe. London fell this afternoon.”
Emma tapped the screen with the tip of her half chewed pen, indicating a blue dot that pulsed within the area of London. The entire city and its outlying districts were swathed in red and the roads leading out, were the same deep crimson, looking like a bloody splat that had been dropped on the capital of the United Kingdom.
“That’s us,” Emma said with a heavy sigh and raising the pen back to her mouth. “An island of blue, in an ocean of red.”
“My God,” Melanie gulped, “how long do you think it will be until the whole country is overrun?”
“Hours, days,” Jonesy shrugged from his desk. “Who knows? The only thing we do know is that it will definitely fall.”
On his screen, Melanie saw the seven red dots of Stan and the others. At the side, she saw the bio-readouts of each of them. Every few seconds, the dots changed their position on the map, having been updated from their satellite trackers.
“They’re heading south,” Jonesy began, feeling a responsibility to give the newcomer a brief outline of what was happening. “At the moment, they’re about a hundred miles north of Manchester. They’re heading for the airport and one of the last places in the north-west that is still securely in our hands.”
He pointed to the airport and Melanie glanced at the city to the left of the screen.
“But Manchester has fallen, it’s all red,” she noted. “And the area of the airport is flashing amber…”
Samantha nodded.
“Yeah, they’re under siege. The infected have completely surrounded them but the perimeter is holding, for now.”
“How will your men make it through?”
“Stan and his boys are the best at what they do, Melanie,” she smiled proudly. “They could get into the Queen’s underwear drawer, sit there for a week and no one would know they were there. If there’s a way through, they’ll find it.”
Now, there was nothing left to do, but wait.
Jonesy kept in regular communications with the team through the satellite communications, and Emma passed on any updates on the routes they were taking and any large concentrations of infected.
By midnight, Stan had informed the Operation’s Room that they were going to try to find a place to hole up for the night and hopefully, find fuel.
“You should try and get some rest too,” Samantha suggested to her new friend.
“Yeah,” Melanie replied, brushing her hands down over her uniform and grimacing in disgust as she inspected her palms. “I think I’ll get that clean up I’ve been promising myself. Is there anything around here that I could change into?”
Samantha was
about to answer. Then, the lights went out.
The room was cast into complete darkness. Everybody froze in position, gripped by terror as the cold blackness enveloped them.
“Shit,” someone hissed.
“What is it? What’s happening?” Melanie’s American accent, filled with anxiety, was distinct as she called out.
“The main grid. I think the main power-grid has failed,” Jonesy replied from somewhere deep within the room.
A bright shaft of light suddenly breached the darkness, silhouetting Jonesy’s body as he clasped the torch between his teeth and illuminated the control panel attached to the wall that he had set about inspecting.
Another beam of light joined the first as Samantha began checking the computers and screens that had gone blank when the power failed.
“What about back-up generators? Don’t you have them?” Melanie asked as she drew her pistol, suddenly feeling afraid of what may be lurking in the dark.
“Yes, we do,” Emma replied, “but they’re not kicking in. They should’ve automatically come on by now.”
“All systems are down,” Samantha announced as she stepped back from the computers. “We’re completely blind.”
She looked down at the Iridium phone in her hand and saw on the glowing yellow screen that the signal was gone. With the power out, the antenna, which was fixed to the office buildings above ground, was not able to transmit of receive and they would not have communications again until they were on the surface. Without a line-of-site signal to the communications satellites, orbiting high above the earth’s atmosphere, they were in a dead spot.
“Fuck,” Samantha growled.
Without the Iridium, contact with the team was impossible without them exposing themselves above ground.
“Do you think the power will come back on?” Emma asked optimistically, as she stepped up behind Jonesy and took over control of the saliva smeared torch he had been gripping between his teeth.
“I doubt it,” he replied as he continued to stare at the blank control panel. “The whole thing is dead and there’s nothing we can do from down here.”
