Steph passed the syringe to Mark who turned it over in his hands, inspecting the mixture with some trepidation. He looked up at Harry, ‘So you think we should inject ourselves before the fight, just in case?’
‘Fuck, no!’ blurted Harry. ‘I think it’ll probably be safe, but can’t guarantee it yet. Only take it if you actually sustain a bite. In that case, inject the whole syringe in a muscle close to the bite site as soon as practical. As long as it’s taken close to the time of infection, it should still have an effect,’ Harry said.
‘You’re not exactly inspiring confidence in the drug, mate,’ said Mark, tucking the syringe into a shirt pocket.
Steph handed hers back. ‘Thanks, but keep it for yourself, Harry. I’m immune anyway, I hope.’
Harry shrugged, and slipped it back in his jacket. ‘It was your words the other week that convinced me, Steph. I figured you would have thought it the right thing to do.’
The automatic door slid open behind the group once again and the doctor from Geelong hospital stepped through. ‘Hey, Harry – I thought I saw you pop your head in before. I’d appreciate your help inside, we’ve still got a fair bunch of stuff to get sorted.’
‘No worries, mate – I’m on my way,’ said Harry.
Harry looked back at his mates, and after ensuring they were alone again, passed off the packages to Mark. ‘If I don’t manage to touch base with you guys before the fight – good luck. Give the other two syringes to Erin and Vinh for me, ok?’
Mark slipped the syringes into an inside pocket of his jacket as Harry disappeared back into the hospital building. He turned on the spot, searching for his men on the wall, his mind already moving onto the next task requiring attention. A hand on his arm caught his attention, and he looked down to see with some surprise that it belonged to Steph.
‘What?’ he asked more bluntly than he had planned. So many times over the weeks since she’d dumped him, he’d wanted to reach out to just feel her body under his hand, and yet he’d restrained himself in the knowledge that it was something she no longer wanted.
‘I don’t think you should use the medication, Mark.’
Mark paused for a moment, feeling irritation start to mount. ‘Why not? If I get bitten, I’ll be happy to take my chances with the drug. Anyway, why the fuck would you care? You made your thoughts abundantly clear the other week.’
Step pulled her hand away like she’d been burnt. ‘It hasn’t been tested properly. We don’t know if the person who has taken it might still present a danger to those around them down the track. You heard him, Harry said there’s been aggression issues during the primate testing. If that happens in humans, we could end up in a situation where a soldier turns on his comrades.’
Mark gave her a hard stare. ‘Steph, are you sure this isn’t more about your experience than the drug?’
Steph met his eyes levelly, her expression dead as always. But she said nothing.
Mark sighed, feeling his anger seep away as quickly as it had fired, replaced with tiredness. ‘I don’t know what’s going on in your head, Steph. As much as it turns a knife in my chest every time I see you, I’m forcing myself to accept that you don’t want me anymore. But give yourself a break. You’re not some diseased freak, you’re just like every other damaged soldier out there with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.’
Steph shook her head. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’
‘Well I think it is. You’ve got to stop pushing everyone away and start talking. It doesn’t have to be me, but maybe speak to Erin or Vinh.’
‘Talking won’t fix what’s wrong.’
‘So, there’s some hideous symptom making you a danger that you’re not telling me about?’ asked Mark, his face now serious. ‘Because we’ve got a battle coming up, and if there’s something going on that might compromise your ability to function – I need to know.’
Steph looked like she was about to say something, but then stopped and shook her head in denial.
‘Look, go take ten minutes for yourself. We’ve just got to make it through the next week, then things will ease off again for a while – and I’ll make sure you get the help you need, ok?’
‘I don’t need ten minutes, Mark. Look, use the drug, or don’t; it’s your decision at the end of the day. Just don’t fucking complain to me if you come out different on the other side.’
Mark stared after her as she walked off on him, shaking his head slightly in frustration.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Standing in the back of a truck, the low canvas roof forced Chris to stay hunched as he threw a tarp over the remaining crates of 155mm Howitzer shells. As far as anyone else knew, he’d unloaded all the ammunition, and was willing to take a gamble that no one would go looking for a few missing crates. He’d pulled in a favour to get the duty of creating the ammunition dump for the huge gun emplacement below their section of the wall, although ‘favour’ was probably the wrong word. Blackmail was more accurate, and as far as Chris was concerned, a far more satisfying method of getting what he wanted. Lieutenant Vinh had given him tasks with zero autonomy, and with time to the battle rapidly running down, he’d been forced to create his own opportunities.
Chris hooked a key from his pocket and climbed down from the back of the truck where he’d parked it alongside two others, a stone’s throw from where his platoon would be stationed tomorrow. His platoon had been allocated a stretch of wall to defend alongside Lieutenant Collins’s soldiers. Both squads would straddle each side of the service tunnel through the wall.
He gave a quick glance about to make sure no one was watching, then ducked into the entrance of the tunnel. Penetrating the base of the wall, it stretched fifteen metres from end to end. Chris raised a hand in the gloom of the unlit space, and brushed his fingers across the rough-hewn timber planks that lined the tunnel as he walked forward. Coming to the end, harsh sunlight forced him to squint as he stepped out of the shadows. To either side, huge steel doors were opened flat against the outside wall, while the road descended from the tunnel entrance at a steep angle into the wide ditch below.
It would have to be here. It was a weak spot that Chris could exploit and still possibly escape with his life intact at the end. One good explosion within the tunnel and he’d create a breach that couldn’t be filled, while he’d be in a car heading for the coast. He was still awed by the foresight of his father’s plan. Once he succeeded in letting the swarm through the wall, the army would suffer a defeat from which it would not recover in years, if ever.
‘This is a restricted area, haven’t you got a job to do or something, Private?’ said a deep voice.
Chris started at the sound and looked up to see a sentry step around the outside corner from the down ramp.
‘Nah mate, all good,’ said Chris, with a forced smile on his face. ‘Just wanted to see what the wall looked like from down here where the Carriers will be.’
‘Well, you’ve seen it. There’s not a whole lot of room in that tunnel, so unless you want to get squashed by a truck before the fight even starts, I’d suggest you move on.’ The look on the soldier’s face brooked no argument and Chris complied, walking back under the wall. The last thing he wanted was to draw undue attention at this stage.
A rumble of an engine sounded from behind, and he stepped to the side, pressing himself against the wall of the tunnel just in time to avoid the front wheel of an armoured vehicle returning from the Melbourne side of the wall. A waft of aircraft fuel followed the truck, evidence of the cargo it had delivered to one of the forward re-fuelling stations for the helicopters tasked with herding the swarms of Carriers from Melbourne to the field of slaughter.
Chris smiled at the arrogance of the army and its leaders - thinking that they could possibly wipe an entire city free of Infection with one battle. Instead of victory, he’d ensure they experienced an apocalyptic slaughter. Chris jogged back through the tunnel, emerging into the organized chaos of a military force in its last throes of preparation.
For a moment, he allowed himself to fantasize about what this area would look like in a couple of days. In his mind’s eye, he saw a chaos of torn bodies and blood mixed with excrement. Men and women dying with terror distorted features and screams fuelled by agony. It would be a day that would make the magnificence of his police station bombing pale in comparison.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Erin stared in the darkness at the metal roof above. The night had dragged interminably, each minute feeling like an hour as she lay awake. She wasn’t the only one struggling to sleep, mutterings and movement in the dark alluding to others who would be bleary eyed and running on adrenaline come the morning battle.
She tried to picture positive images, of herself leading the swarm of Carriers, controlling her helicopter with a skill that returned her behind the wall in safety, mission complete. But the “what ifs” kept intervening with images of horror.
Crashing.
Running out of fuel.
Mechanical fault with the helicopter.
Becoming trapped in front of the wall.
Unless she was fortunate enough to die immediately from the crash, all scenarios would end with Carriers eating her alive. Broken teeth tearing strips of flesh from her limbs, fingers puncturing her abdomen to rip out lengths of entrails. Limbs wrenched and torn free of their sockets. These images weren’t drawn from imagination. No, they were very real, witnessed firsthand during a year of fighting demonic abominations that spat at the laws of nature.
Erin considered each of these scenarios with an odd type of revolted curiosity. They frightened her, but she’d lived with the same possibilities for too long for it to reduce her to a quivering mass of terror. An early, violent death was expected in her world. Ever since her older brother Jai had died at the hands of a Carrier, she knew that the same would happen to her eventually. It was only a question of timing. And more importantly, a question of how many Carriers she could kill before it happened. If Erin really drilled down to what kept her awake, it was a fear of failure. A fear of a mistake on her part that might lead to the death of her friends or other soldiers, and she was determined for that scenario to never eventuate.
Her wrist watch gave a double beep. Erin raised it before her eyes in the dark and pressed a button on the side to illuminate the face. 0300 Reveille. Any chance of sleep was over. Within moments, fluorescent tubes blinked on overhead, flooding the temporary barracks in white light. Erin rubbed at her eyes and sat up in her sleeping bag. Her back was stiff and muscles aching from sleeping on the concrete floor. Around her, the other members of her helicopter squadron were doing the same, easing themselves to upright and shedding sleeping bags like cocoons. Most were already in their flight suits, and Erin had taken it one step further by wearing her boots to bed. If there was one lessen she’d learnt, it was that it paid to be ready at a moment’s notice. No-one bothered to pack away their stuff this morning. For once, tidiness would be the last thing on their officer’s minds – there would be plenty of time for that after the mission was completed. If they survived.
Erin’s squad leader stood by the door of the building, waiting for her pilots to assemble. The fingers of one hand tapped on her paper briefings in a running drumbeat, a sign that she was about to lose her patience. In the time Erin had known the woman, she’d never seen her smile or give an inch to a single person. She expected as much from her pilots as she did from herself, and that meant success was the only option that would be tolerated.
‘Move your fucking arses, or the sun will be up before we leave the bloody ground!’ snapped the officer finally.
The last of the helicopter pilots hurried over, gear in hand. Erin glanced about the group, and not for the first time thought how young each of them were. At fifteen, Erin was the youngest, but not by much. The army had chosen to create the squadron of helicopter pilots from its youngest ranks, teenagers with whip fast reflexes and eyes undimmed by age. Kids that had demonstrated resilience and an iron will to survive had been handpicked for the opportunity to fly, and would play a key role in the coming battle.
‘I want you all to treat today like any other training mission. The only difference with this one, is that instead of doing complex manoeuvres above the Melbourne swarms, all you have to do is lead them to the wall like an apple before a horse,’ said the officer.
‘More like a steak before a wolf pack,’ thought Erin.
‘We have to move the swarm twenty-nine kilometres from the Westgate Bridge to the plains before Little River, so if we’re to have any chance of achieving this by mid-morning, I need you in the air ASAP. You each have your designated flight paths and I can confirm there has been no alteration to those orders, we are proceeding as planned.’
The officer looked over the small group before her. Any remnants of sleep had burnt away. Pupils were dilated, breathing mildly raised and muscles wired. Erin could feel the mood of those present, an electric buzz of excitement tempered with seriousness at the task on which they were to embark.
For the first time, Erin saw her commanding officer show a wolf like smile in pride of her troop’s resolve. ‘I know that none of you need any further incentive to excel, but General Black has sent a message he wanted read out before you took to the air.’
The officer lifted a typed page and began to read.
‘Today, you represent the young of our country. For too many years, the youth of our nation have been treated with disdain by politicians and society at large. Called lazy, narcissistic or freeloaders that expect life to be handed on a plate. You and I know this to be a falsehood. A country is only as strong as its youth, its future only as bright as those that will light the way in the times to come. And with young men and women like yourselves at the wheel, Australia is far from finished.
‘You have the honour of being the first into battle, and thousands along the wall will watch you in the air. They will watch with pride at the bravery present in our youngest, and this will temper their resolve to match and repay your willingness to serve by not giving an inch until the job is done. This day will be long, and you will be tested. But know this - you will succeed.
General Black.’
The officer folded the page and tucked it into a pocket of her flight suit. Something had softened on the older warrior’s face as she regarded her charges for a moment, and then it was gone.
‘Right, enough of the inspirational shit. We’ve got a job to do, so get your arses in the air. I’ll be in contact on the radio. Good luck.’
Erin followed her colleagues out of the barracks shed. Expecting darkness, she surprisingly had to shield her eyes from the intensity of light outside. Flood lamps bathed the road in harsh definition as troops spilled forth to prepare for the day’s battle, casting shadows on the ground to stalk their owners. Erin ducked into a latrine to empty her nervous bladder, then bolted after her squad mates, catching up to them as they reached the landing field.
The teenagers paired off to their own helicopters, each running forward with backs slightly bent out of habit beneath the rotors above. Ten helicopters were spread out across the close-cropped grass of the paddock. All were former civilian models, repurposed by the army now that their former owners were more interested in feeding on their fellow human than flying.
Erin reached her helicopter, a black Robinson R44 Raven II. The small craft usually held two pairs of seats for the pilot and three passengers, however the rear row had been removed, leaving space for a small arsenal of hand-held weapons in case of a crash landing in Infected terrain. Although the helicopters weren’t fitted for rescue operations, room had been left behind the pilot’s seats for three adults to kneel, or one to lie. Erin ran a hand along the metal of the cabin as she approached the cockpit door, her fingers sliding over jet-black paint that felt like it had been freshly waxed.
‘No more hiccups my darling,’ she murmured to the machine, ‘we have a job that can’t afford your mechanical moodiness today.’
With pride at being in ch
arge of such a beautiful aircraft, Erin swung open her door and climbed into the pilot’s seat. Her navigator and back-up pilot for the flight, another teenager named Crash, was already running through a pre-flight checklist. He’d earned his nickname during the flight course after one too many close calls on landing. Despite getting his wings by the skin of his teeth, he’d proved one hell of a navigator, even if he acted like he was still in secondary school half the time.
‘How are we looking?’ asked Erin, as she slammed the cockpit door shut and started to fasten her seat harness.
‘We’re right to go as soon as we have clearance,’ said Crash. He dumped the checklist back in its holder, clapped his hands and let out a war cry of excitement. ‘Let’s fucking do this!’
Erin looked at her flight mate with one eyebrow raised and the corner of her mouth hooking upward in a half smile. ‘Some days I swear you’re a beer short of a six-pack.’
‘Ah, who you kidding, Erin? You bloody love it!’
Erin just snorted. ‘Give me a break.’ She could see that Crash was forcing the act a little today as his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and knees bounced incessantly. But she appreciated the effort to keep the mood light. No one needed a crewmate that focused on unavoidable dangers. Better to get the adrenaline pumping and then ride that beast until it dropped.
Around them a few helicopters were starting to lift off.
Erin pulled on her helmet and adjusted her microphone to address flight control.
‘Raven II ready for take-off, over,’ said Erin.
‘Permission granted, Raven II. Good hunting,’ answered her officer’s voice over her headphones.
Erin felt her heart rate give a fresh surge as she set the twin blades above spinning. The whole body of the helicopter began to thrum as the rotor picked up speed and within moments it was ready. After double-checking that it was safe and the airspace above clear, Erin lifted off the ground and guided the helicopter straight up, until at an altitude of fifty metres she began to ease forward while still gaining height.
Plague War (Book 3): Retaliation Page 25
