Twice Bitten, Twice Die (The Blood of the Infected Book 3)

by Antony Stanton

  “I am guessing you have a theory as to why that is?” Lewis asked slowly.

  Wood nodded with an unsettling look in his eyes, one that Lewis had not seen before. Was it fear perhaps? Had this man of apparently unshakeable nerves finally found something to be afraid of?

  “The only reason I can think of is that they actually want us to go and try to rescue her, and they think that is more likely if they take a woman. Knights in shining armour coming to her aid, and all that. And if they want us to go and try to rescue her, it may well be because they want to enslave us all and that is the easiest way to do it.”

  Not for the first time in recent days, Lewis felt his hackles rise and for a moment he felt nauseous as his stomach turned. Were they rushing towards a trap? The thought of what Wood was suggesting was just too terrible and frightening to contemplate. It hardly surprised Lewis that there was fear behind the other man’s eyes.

  As they all got into their vehicles Wood’s words occupied his attention and were a nagging distraction. He sat in the front seat next to Corporal Kevin Berthon without saying anything, lost in thought. Scovell in the rear drummed his fingers nervously, earning him a scowl from Bannister.

  “Are you ready boss?” Berthon eventually asked, jolting him from his dark contemplation.

  “What? Oh, yes, let’s go.”

  Driving the second Land Rover was Flight Lieutenant Walkden with Sergeant Straddling, Senior Aircraftman Ric Masters and Corporal Reggie Pethard. In the rear vehicle Sergeant Harper Hutchison drove Sergeant Wood, Corporal Charlotte Collins and Corporal Newman. As Denny himself swung the gates open and they passed through to the other side, it seemed to Lewis more like three hearses on their way to a funeral wake than a military expedition. Or perhaps, given Wood’s words of warning, three fast food vans on their way to vampire-central for feeding time to begin. Lewis glanced back over his shoulder at the base retreating into the distance and saw Denny, still standing behind the gates watching them disappear. He held his rifle in front of him with his face set into a grim expression of determination. Lewis could just imagine him bellowing ‘Who goes there?’ as he stiffly defended the station from all attackers. Lewis’s gaze lingered until the base was hidden from view.

  It was not only Wood who had been pondering the reasons for Vida’s abduction. The medical team, accompanied by Corporal Bamburac, Leading Aircraftman Allen, the two children, who had taken to holding hands everywhere they went, and the two patients, Corporals Gray and Pellegrini, approached the medical centre, pushing Bennett on his trolley bed. Dr Handley looked worried. Singleton tried to talk to him but he seemed not to have heard her so she nudged his arm.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Huh? I was just thinking that we’re now pretty vulnerable with all the troops gone on this rescue mission. If those creatures, those vampires, wanted to come back and wreak more havoc, then abducting one of us would have been the perfect ploy to lure the soldiers away from the station. I sincerely hope it was the right decision to go in search of Vida. Otherwise we could well be in a spot of bother here.”

  He spoke quietly so that the two children did not hear but both Gray and Pellegrini were privy to the exchange. Singleton did not get a chance to reply however as the conversation was interrupted by a commotion from ahead. They all swapped nervous glances and although not fully fit, Gray and Pellegrini hobbled to the front. Each of them had their Browning out of the holster.

  “We’ll check this out ma’am,” Corporal Gray said.

  The medical centre was a scene of carnage. Blood from the previous night’s killings still decorated the outer room where the massacre of Privates Howes and Hanson had occurred, the corpses not having been touched since everyone had immediately thereafter taken refuge in the dining hall. Whilst Leading Aircraftman Allen stood nervously at the door, the other two soldiers carefully eased themselves around the bodies and headed towards the source of the disturbance. A banging and screaming was coming from the rear room. Corporal Elliot Gray took the lead and tentatively nudged the door ajar. The cause of the commotion was immediately clear. Private Darby’s sedation had worn off and he had developed full symptoms of the condition. Despite being bound securely to the trolley bed he must have rocked about so violently that it had collapsed onto its side and he now lay on the floor, virtually out of his bindings. Within a matter of minutes he could well have got loose and been free to rampage within the walls of the station. As he saw them his screams gained new vehemence and his body reared and twisted in fury. His face was hardly recognisable as the boy of the day before. His eyes bulged and blazed, darting back and forth furiously. His lips were drawn back from his teeth and saliva dripped like a rabid dog. He craned his face towards them, snapping and snarling.

  “He’s almost free. Pass me that broom, quick,” Gray barked at Pellegrini.

  In his haste as Pellegrini dodged around the writhing body he stumbled and staggered. He went down on one knee, perilously near to Darby. With a yelp he flinched and scrambled backwards. Taking great care, the two of them grasped the broom at its ends and pressed it upon Darby’s throat, forcing his head onto the floor. They held him firmly, pushing down with considerable force so that he could not move. Nevertheless, he still strained against them. The tendons on his neck protruded as he bucked upwards, seemingly oblivious to the damage it was doing to him. As he thrashed about, struggling desperately to free his hands, Handley prepared a syringe full of sedative. He jammed it hard into Darby’s leg, then stepped quickly away. Other than Pellegrini and Gray they all stood as far from Darby as the room would permit. Allen was in the doorway with his pistol aimed at Darby, waiting as Handley counted.

  At ten there had been no effect. Darby’s protestations were as wild as ever.

  “Come on, come on,” Handley muttered, as Darby reared up, again with a bellow.

  At twenty Pellegrini almost lost his hold on the broom. Darby lurched upright for a moment before he could regain his grip and slammed him back to the floor.

  Corporal Gray gave him a reprimanding look. “Hold him for God’s sake.”

  At thirty there was still no change. “It’s not working,” Pellegrini panted. “Shoot him.”

  “Wait,” Singleton ordered.

  At forty, finally, gradually, Darby’s screams started to die down. His eyes slowed their orbits. His screams became snarls and whimpers. His hands feebly reached out towards his captors and then sagged limply to the floor. His eyelids drooped and the contortions of his face fell away, revealing someone more similar to the person he had once been; sedate and calm, for the time being.

  “I don’t think much of your bedside manner Doc,” Pellegrini gasped.

  Dr Handley, who was fast getting used to military banter in stressful situations, just smiled cheerlessly. “Make sure you don’t get sick when I’m on duty then.”

  Darby was tied more securely to the stretcher, bound tightly by all limbs and around his throat and head. Clearly it was just too risky to leave him unguarded and without sedation again. The bodies of Hanson and Howes were laid behind the medical centre as a temporary measure until a proper burial could be arranged. They endeavoured to clean some of the mess, but without access to running water it was impossible and the stains of blood seemed to be even more extensive after their efforts, a mocking reminder of the disease that spread unchecked outside the station’s walls. The children were ushered protectively to a rear room so as to avoid the terrible sight and the radios were all brought into the medical centre before the doors were locked and barricaded. They were taking no risks with further vampire attacks and wanted to be as contained as possible. Bennett was one of the few who had somehow managed to get a reasonable night’s sleep. He was awake and seemed to be recovering well. Gray and Pellegrini attended to the radios and listened out for any calls from the soldiers. Leading Aircraftman Allen of the Admin Section helped Corporal May Williams entertain the children whilst the two doctors huddled close to Bennett, chatting in quick, low whispe
rs. Rather than just waste the day worrying about the fate of the troops they tried to be productive. Now that Bennett was regaining his strength the best use of their time seemed to be in discovering everything they could about the drug and its development. They could not be certain how long any of them would be alive and it was best to pool all their knowledge whilst able.

  Group Captain Denny, Sergeant Vallage, the two other kitchen staff - Leading Aircraftman Neale and Corporal Bell, the aeromedical student Flying Officer Olly Frost, Private Bruce Matthews from the Supply and Logistics section, and Corporal Gillen and Leading Aircraftman Mayoh from the Administration section spent the day roving around the station grounds. They stayed together throughout for safety in numbers, periodically checking the front gate and then looking in on the medical centre. This was the most time that Group Captain Denny had spent in anybody’s company for a few days and surprisingly, given that his ostracism had been self-imposed, he seemed to relish the contact and spoke at length on his theories of the sickness and the vampires. Clearly he had had a lot of time to think things through. He, of all people on the station, had not been surprised by the vampires’ attack. He, of all people, had accepted their existence and taken them for what they actually were, and he was probably the most prepared for their possible return.

  The streets seemed unusually empty, bereft of any kind of humanoids, be they vampires, infected, or indeed normal humans. In fact, life itself seemed to be absent. As they drove through the empty streets Lewis felt distinctly uneasy. His thoughts were expressed for him.

  “Where is everybody today?” Berthon asked.

  Lewis nodded in agreement. “I know; I think I almost prefer it when I can see them.”

  “Do you actually believe in these vampires, sir?” Leading Aircraftman Patrick Scovell asked, hunching forwards from the rear.

  Lewis turned to stare into his eyes. Normally playful and confident, fear and doubt lurked there now. Or perhaps that was just his own reflection he saw. “I think it’s kind of gone beyond whether we believe in them or not. Whatever they are, they’ve killed three of us and abducted another. They’re certainly not normal, although what exactly is normal these days?”

  “Well, you’ve kept us safe so far sir. You’ll look after us again today, won’t you?”

  For a moment Lewis looked away, searching and unsure. This was not the first promise he had had to make whilst feeling significantly less than sure that he could deliver on it, and this was far from the first time he had felt like a charlatan as their supposed leader. “Just stay sharp out there. The best chance we’ve got is if we all stay tight, ok?”

  Sebastian had told Corporal Charlotte Collins that the vampires had taken refuge in a Roman Catholic church in Bishop’s Stortford. There were two such churches in the town: Saint Theresa’s, situated a little to the north of the town, and Saint Joseph and the English Martyrs, quite an apt name as far as Lewis was concerned, although he intended not to add to the number of martyrs that day. Saint Joseph’s was the closer one to the petrol station where they had first encountered the vampires and for no better reason that that, they decided to start there. As they made their way, it seemed to Lewis that Corporal Berthon was driving unusually slowly, as though reluctant to get to their destination, preferring to face the septics a little longer rather than a confrontation with whatever lay ahead. Lewis said nothing.

  Saint Joseph’s was a large building of dull, grey stone splashed with grey-green lichen and moss. It had a high slate roof above old, scarred walls and weathered headstones in an overgrown graveyard. Lewis commanded Berthon to stop a little up the road so that they could approach undetected. He knew that the vampires supposedly had highly developed senses, but not knowing exactly how acute their hearing was, he intended to take no chances. Obviously this did expose them to a greater possibility of encountering diseased before they got to their destination but that seemed to be unavoidable and was most certainly the lesser of the two evils. They sat contemplating anxiously. Everything was quiet. There were still no signs of life.

  Lewis held the handle a long time before easing open the door to the Land Rover and stepping slowly out.

  Berthon, Walkden and Hutchison remained with the vehicles as before. They were positioned so as to be able to watch in every direction and enable a fast exit. The remaining nine troops set off on foot towards the church with growing feelings of trepidation. Lewis spoke to them briefly in hushed tones.

  “We don’t know much about these supposed vampires, just what Bannister and Collins told us, but they do appear to be virtually superhuman. I think it’s safest to prepare for the worst; assume that they are stronger, faster and have more highly developed senses than anyone or anything we have ever seen before. I want radios to have open mics but have receiver volumes turned down low. Only break radio silence in a dire emergency. Take no chances, and under no circumstances are you to go anywhere alone. Stick together and watch your backs. Any questions?”

  They slipped silently through the graveyard. Every grave provided opportunity for an enemy to hide, be they vampyric or infected. Lewis could feel himself becoming increasingly jittery and mentally tried to take hold of himself. He saw assailants hiding in every shadow and his finger nervously rubbed the trigger on his rifle. As they neared the building he became more and more tense. He slowed down his pace just to delay the inevitable. Going over and over in his mind were the words of Wood. Was it a trap? Was it suicide to lead them all into the church, gambling all their lives over just one person? The internal debate continued with no answer and all the while he edged closer and closer to the one place he wanted to be as far away from as possible.

  The church itself was an imposing structure. It had a tall, prominent spire, there were buttresses leading from the roof and it had a distinctly gothic air to it. The gargoyles seemed to be totally in keeping with the general character. Beside it there was a small out-building that could have been used as a store or perhaps even as a prison for Vida. To the right the presbytery stood in the church’s shadow. It was a newer building of grey brick that was not altogether in the same style as the church itself and there was an amount of debris and broken furniture scattered around the dishevelled gardens. Lewis silently indicated to Straddling and Wood, and the two men peeled off, followed by Scovell and Collins. Wood immediately took the lead and Straddling seemed content to trail behind bringing up the rear. Any bad feelings from their previous crossed words in the GVF laboratories had apparently faded and Wood’s authority now accepted. Or was Straddling just glad that he was not going in first? Lewis led the remaining four soldiers towards the church itself. He looked at their faces and saw tense expressions. Masters could hardly contain himself. He was fidgeting and shifting with nervous energy. Bannister and Newman looked positively ill. Corporal Pethard was the only one of them all who seemed calm and composed. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say he looked determined, like a man totally focused on his mission, determined to complete it at all costs, a man whose instinct to live was superseded by his longing for revenge. Hopefully it would not come to that, Lewis thought grimly.

  There was a large wooden door to the church in a small porch. All too soon Lewis found himself reaching out reluctantly with a shaky hand for the door knob. He saw himself clutching it in slow motion, watching his fingers close on the metal. He barely registered the cold feel of it beneath his fingers as he twisted it. He half expected it to be locked and for them to be forced to find an alternative entry or return to base empty handed, but Lady Luck seemed to be smiling down at him. Or perhaps she too was impatient to see how this gory performance would play out. Which of the doomed cast of characters would perish first? Would any of them make it out alive? The door looked as though it should creak as he pushed it but it swung silently, revealing a dark edifice. It opened like a Venus fly trap, ready to snap shut on the first unsuspecting victim to pass within. Tentatively he stepped forwards, over the threshold and into darkness, victim number one.

>   It took a moment for Lewis to realize exactly why it was so dim inside; there were windows after all so it should have been lighter but they seemed to have been covered with sheets and the interior was plunged into darkness. The sheets did not provide total blackout however. Bright shards of light stabbed and sliced, illuminating a statue here or a pillar there, but the drastic contrast between the occasional light and shadow made it even harder to see. He had not expected this and they had not brought torches. Lewis turned and motioned to his party to keep a good lookout. They formed a frightened huddle at the rear of the building. They allowed their eyesight to adjust before working their way hesitantly up the central aisle. Their guns swung wildly about them, searching for hostiles.

  Silence.

  It seemed empty. With each step it felt less and less likely that anyone or anything was there. Lewis started to question whether this was the correct church. Could Collins have got it wrong completely? Or was that just wishful thinking on his part? Towards the far end he could make out the altar in the gloom. Behind it was some smashed furniture and in the corner a door. The interior was quite ornate. Much of the area was filled with wooden pews, some of which had been overturned. Effigies were set into small alcoves in the walls as though studying the new arrivals, and there was a high vaulted ceiling that he could not properly make out in the darkness, with wooden beams which criss-crossed the extent of the building. There was a parapet from where the priest would have delivered his fire-and-brimstone sermons, and at the rear a small staircase led up to the area overlooking the church where the choir and organist would have sat. Another door was tucked away just beside this staircase and Lewis assumed that it must go through to the presbytery. To their left was a small, dim, side chapel which had iron railings and a gate separating it from the main body of the church. A frame was set in front of it where candles could be lit by parishioners, to offer up prayers of hope to the saints. It was empty, just like their prayers.