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

by Antony Stanton

  “So?” Singleton pressed him. “Do you think it’s possible? Can we do anything with this information?” She hesitated. “Can we create a cure?”

  Bennett avoided the question and looked uncomfortable. “The last few days before things turned bad we spent almost every waking hour attempting to analyse how to reverse the effects of Mnemoloss. Dr Boxall and I, along with a few others, tried to isolate exactly what had gone wrong and devise the best method for reversing it. We were working in the dark. Since we didn’t really know what had happened all we could do was hypothesise. We didn’t have time to actually test our theories on humans and so we weren’t sure if we were going in the right direction.”

  “But can we create a cure?” she pressed.

  Both Handley and Singleton were staring at him. Singleton had grasped his arm without even realising and was squeezing hard. Almost all of their hopes over the past week, all of their efforts and energy of every waking moment had been hanging on the prospect of making an antidote. Their very raison d’etre had become this one task. It had been giving them purpose, a reason to carry on. And now that they had a scientist who had been directly involved with the Dem-buster’s conception, along with an instruction manual from the very creator himself, surely they had to be in with at least a chance?

  He paused, considering how to phrase it. “In an ideal world,” he stammered, “I’d probably have to say there’s not all that much hope. The odds are still stacked against us. But I guess it’s worth a try. We’ve got about as much possibility of success as we’re ever going to have.”

  These were not the words they had been wanting to hear and Singleton’s heart plummeted. But they kept alive the possibility; for now at least. And when all hope had gone? They would just have to face that eventuality when the time came, she supposed. As the doctors were turning to leave the room Bennett muttered one last thing.

  “I said that we didn’t have time to test the new drugs on any humans. We did however test it on some of the rats. We didn’t have an opportunity to see the results but if we could get our hands on a few of those, that may well help our cause.”

  The doors banged open and the soldiers charged in. Lewis was shouting instructions and the relative calm of RAF GVF instantly descended into chaos. Rhind’s wife was quickly taken and locked in one of the offices next to Darby, and Rhind was rushed into the medical centre. When Bennett saw him at first he could not believe it. He blinked and gasped for breath as he stared. His mouth was hanging open as he collapsed on the floor shaking. Singleton was immediately alarmed and rushed to his side, fearing the worst. As she bent down to help him he grabbed her arm, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “Those odds I was just talking about,” he sobbed, “I’d say they’ve just been halved.”

  The soldiers sagged down onto chairs in the dining area whilst everybody flapped around them. They were pale and exhausted, and although everybody chattered and buzzed about them, the soldiers just slumped quietly, staring into space.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” Singleton said to Lewis. She could feel emotions welling up within her. Clearly it was hellish being the ones to actually go out on these missions but it was no tea party remaining behind either. “We could hear occasional shots being fired and we were all praying for you. How was it?”

  He shook his head grimly. His face was creased with pain as he leant on a table. “Standard,” was all he could muster.

  She nodded, not wanting to destress him further. “Who is he?” she nodded in Rhind’s direction, changing the subject.

  “I’m not sure exactly, some bigwig in GVF. I think he may have been working with Boxall on the antidote or something. It might just be worth keeping him alive.”

  Singleton could hardly contain her excitement at the news. “Wow, that’s great,” she squealed. “I think Bennett knows him. Talking of Bennett, this is probably a bad time to mention this but he needs to get access to his work in the animal section. I know this is the last thing you need right now, but I’d say as a priority we’ve got to get it clear if we want to find a cure.”

  Lewis sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry but my priority is to go back where we’ve just been. We left Elliot Gray behind. For now though I need some more painkillers please. And something a little stronger.”

  Singleton was taken aback and Lewis started to bark out orders. Every time he raised his voice he winced and his hand went to his ribs.

  Collins rushed back into the area, having been out on patrol. She ran up to Wood and threw her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He stood stiffly for a moment before wrapping an arm about her and returning the embrace. She slowly pulled herself away from him and looked him up and down.

  “My goodness, you’re covered in blood.”

  His uniform was speckled all over. His hands were red and there was a streak down one side of his face and neck. He looked terrible.

  “Some clown tried to get a little friendly,” he said with an unnerving look in his eyes, “so I slotted him. I’m okay. I told you, I’m indestructible.”

  She tried to smile but it was not forthcoming. Gently he extricated himself from her and moved towards Lewis. Lewis was issuing orders and preparing for an immediate return to rescue Corporal Gray.

  “Sir, might I make a suggestion,” he said. Lewis stopped and looked at him. “You’re not fit to go back,” Wood continued quietly.

  “What on earth do you mean?” Lewis spluttered.

  Wood prodded him in the ribs and Lewis winced.

  “That’s what I mean sir. You’re injured. You need to sit this one out.”

  “We’ve left a man in the field. We’ve got to go back for him. I can take some painkillers, I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes sir, you’re absolutely right. We do have to go back, and immediately. And yes, you’re also right; you can take some painkillers, assuming we’ve got some strong enough. But they won’t kick in for a while and until then you’ll be a liability to the rest of us. I’ve been watching you, you can barely stand up straight let alone fight, if need be.”

  “He’s right boss,” Straddling said gently before Lewis could reply. He had sidled over when he saw the look on Wood’s face.

  “So what are you saying?” Lewis asked.

  “I take a four-man team. We go quietly. We collect Corporal Gray and slip out unnoticed. No commotion, no drama and hopefully no contacts.”

  Lewis started to complain but Straddling again interrupted. “Boss, you know how much I hate to say this, but again, he’s right. You're injured and you'd be endangering us all right now.”

  Wood did not wait for further discussion. He addressed the group at large. “I’ll take Bannister, Matthews and you Straddling. Berthon, do us the honour of driving again. Be ready to go in five. Full magazines; weapons primed and clean. And Matthews…”

  Matthews stopped what he was doing and turned.

  "…bring your crossbow."

  Berthon stopped the Bedford at almost the exact same spot as last time. The bodies of those he had so recently crushed beneath the truck’s wheels were scattered nearby.

  “Keep your doors locked and windows closed,” Wood said to Berthon. “Keep blasting on the horn and shouting out to Gray on the megaphone. Tell him to stay tight, the cavalry is coming. If any hostiles exit the building you know what to do.”

  Berthon nodded silently. It would be his pleasure. He had been disgusted when Darby had run the diseased man over a week earlier but this time it felt different and he had absolutely no qualms about repeating it.

  Wood turned to his small team and looked at each of them, assessing their mental and physical readiness and their determination. Content with what he saw he nodded.

  “From here on keep all noise to an absolute minimum. Only speak if your life, or more importantly my life, depends on it. Do exactly what I say. Watch for my commands and, Deo volente, we’ll get out of here safely with the prize. Any questions?”

  He thumped once on th
e side of the lorry then jumped over the tailgate and started towards the building. The others followed. Berthon silently counted to one hundred before starting to blast out on the horn and megaphone, enough time for the four soldiers to get inside and away from the possible exit route of any infected rushing towards the commotion that he would create.

  Bannister thought they had moved cautiously when they had been inside before but that was nothing compared to how they proceeded now. They all took their cue from Wood. They moved slowly when he did and froze whenever he paused or raised a fist. Every step he took was as if he was walking through tinder-dry woodland. He placed each foot with care lest he snap a twig or disturb a branch. He stopped to listen frequently. At all doors he would pause and stare through the glass panel until he was convinced that nothing moved beyond. He used hand signals to direct the men. He hardly even looked to check if they had seen. He just assumed that they were on the ball as much as he. All their lives depended now on each one being up to the task. One mistake from any of them could get them all killed. To Bannister this felt less like going on patrol. It was more like hunting.

  They had stripped down to only the essential equipment and had ensured there was nothing that could clank or make unwanted noise. Wood had even left behind his ever-present satchel. They took the same route as they had previously. The building was quiet. They passed the metallic octopus and the female corpse with the crossbow bolt imbedded in her throat. Bannister was reminded of the deadly display from Wood. He pondered, not for the first time, what kind of life the man had lived in times before all of this insanity. Possibly things had not changed an awful lot for him. Bannister wondered what it would take to make a man like that snap, and what would happen if he did?

  Beyond were the open areas devoted to scientific experimentation. They crossed the first, avoiding the debris on the floor. Everything was silent. They worked slowly through the ground floor without incident. It felt as though they had surely killed all the infected on their last visit. It certainly had been a titanic struggle. As they approached the stairs leading upwards, Wood froze. For several seconds he did not move, peering ahead into the gloom. The other three were a few paces behind. They watched and waited. Without turning he raised a single finger and pointed. One hostile, just ahead. He made a closed fist. Stay here.

  He crept forwards five metres and remained crouched. The woman was approximately a dozen paces from him. She had no idea he was there. He eased the bow up to his shoulder and sighted. She was still entirely oblivious to her fate. Wood’s finger tightened on the trigger and the bolt released. The woman did not even have time to scream before death claimed her. The only noise was that of her hitting the floor.

  Wood raised a fist telling them to remain in situ. He quickly reloaded the crossbow. He stayed where he was for almost a minute without moving. Then he slowly beckoned them all to him. He did not say a word as they quietly approached. He just proceeded up the stairs.

  They were close now to the office where they had left Corporal Gray. Bannister just hoped he had had the sense to stay put. He watched as Wood peered through the glass of the fire doors. then quickly gesticulated. Two fingers. Clenched fist. Bannister looked back down at the body of the man who had almost been on top of him on their earlier visit. Were it not for this aloof and enigmatic soldier in front of him now, it might have turned out very differently. Watching him in action gave Bannister a greater understanding to the man’s psyche. His past experiences had undoubtedly moulded his character. One day perhaps he might need to speak about them, but not today; not whilst killing was on the agenda.

  Wood slipped through the fire doors and remained in a crouch. One hand hovered over his pistol as he crept forwards. The two diseased, one man and one woman, had still not seen him as he hugged the floor. He stopped and slowly picked up a broken cup, and paused, waiting. They seemed to be interacting somehow. They gargled and chattered at each other but it was not much more than one might see between a couple of infants. They both seemed distracted and Wood quickly took his chance. He cast the cup down the passageway to the far end. Both turned to stare in that direction and Wood reacted.

  The crossbow was at his shoulder immediately. The bolt hit the woman. Wood dropped the crossbow and was up and running hard. The shriek the woman gave out covered the noise of his approach. By the time she had fallen to the ground Wood was upon the man. He half turned but Wood grabbed him by the shoulder and span him fully so that he faced away. He grabbed the man’s head, yanking it back, and slit his throat in one smooth movement. As the man struggled he stabbed again. The man’s legs buckled and gave way beneath him as he collapsed.

  “Hell’s teeth! What was that little rampage all about?” Bannister muttered.

  “I’d say he’s done that a few times before,” Matthews whispered. “He’s a nutter.”

  Bannister just shrugged. He had been thinking exactly the same thing. Wood was always taciturn at the best of times but at the moment he was utterly unreachable. Maybe that was just how he worked…

  The three soldiers were by Wood’s side in a moment. Again, Wood did not say a word. His chest was heaving and his eyes were wide open. He pointed at the office and then dropped to clean his blade on the dead man’s trousers.

  Straddling knocked tentatively at the office door. There was no answer. He knocked again. “Gray, are you there?” Still nothing. Fearing the worst he tried the handle. The door opened revealing an empty room. Corporal Elliot Gray and the woman had gone.

  “We’re too late.” Straddling swore quietly. “We should never have left him here by himself. I knew it was a bad idea.”

  The four soldiers stared bleakly at the empty office but there was no indication as to what might have happened. They entered, closed the door and looked all around.

  “Well,” Wood said finally, “there is one good indication in our favour here.”

  “What’s that?” Straddling asked.

  “The fact that there are no signs or clues.”

  “How can that possibly be good?” Straddling asked.

  “Because if there had been a struggle, if any hostiles had forced their way in here, then we’d see an indication of it. But there’s no blood, nothing.”

  “So you’re saying he deliberately left this room and went out there with the woman?” Straddling was still unconvinced.

  “What other explanation can there possibly be?” Wood said.

  Bannister was frowning. “Same thing happened to the bodies of Rohith and Sinna back in the supermarket. They just disappeared without a trace.”

  “Well, let’s hope I’m right and you’re wrong,” Wood cut him short. “Time to go.”

  “Where?”

  “We can’t search the entire building for him. Assuming he did leave of his own volition then I am hoping he managed to get somewhere safe. So I suggest we go back to the Bedford and use that megaphone to try and reach him. Maybe if he can hear us we can get him to fire his weapon and signal to us where he is. Unless anyone has any better ideas?”

  They did not, and the thought of going back to the safety of the vehicle sounded too good to pass up, despite the fact that Gray was still alone somewhere out there. They repeated the same route and despite their desire to rush like stable ponies heading for home, Wood kept them all slow and steady. They moved with the same amount of agonising stealth and caution as on the way in. They did not see any hostiles, nor did they see any signs that Gray had passed that way.

  “Imagine having to go along these corridors by yourself,” Matthews muttered to Bannister. “It’s bad enough with four of us, but alone it’d be enough to send anybody over the edge.”

  It seemed odd to find themselves back at the entrance without further incident. Wood paused, looking around, almost wistfully.

  “What are you waiting for?” Straddling rasped at him. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Wood nodded and now there was nothing he could do to hold back his troops. They raced for the sa
fety of the Bedford, and even Wood ran too.

  Wood paused by the cab. “No sign of Gray. He’s just gone.”

  Corporal Berthon just smiled and pointed at the rear.

  Corporal Gray was sat on the truck’s metal floor with the woman’s head resting in his lap. He looked up guiltily as they all clambered over the tailgate and held up his hands.

  “I know, I know. You’ve just risked your lives to come and rescue me. I’m really sorry for leading you all on a merry dance.”

  “We thought we’d lost you laddie,” Straddling spluttered.

  “We thought the vampires had you,” Bannister added.

  “What the hell happened?” Wood demanded.

  As Berthon whisked them home Gray filled them in. For a little while nothing had happened. Left with only the semi-conscious woman for company had been truly eerie. Every once in a while he had heard a deranged scream which seemed far more threatening and ominous by himself, without the comfort of his colleagues, even though he was the one who was safely hidden in a locked room and they were out running the gauntlet of the madhouse. He could well imagine how horrible it must have been for anyone who had survived all alone in that building with no way of knowing if salvation was ever going to come. The woman had stirred and he had managed to tease a few words out of her. Evidently her name was Julie and she had been hiding at the facility for roughly a couple of weeks. She had been with her husband and children but as things got bad they had been separated and she had not heard from them since. That was all Gray had got out of her. She had been slipping in and out of consciousness but he thought that she did not seem to be infected; at least not as far as he could tell.

  Suddenly the shooting had started and it had scared the willies out of him; apparently. The shrieks had recommenced, only louder and unceasing. He had heard noises coming from all around and footsteps lumbering past; not the clean footfalls of healthy individuals but the laboured shuffling of people dragging their limbs, a terrifying and unsettling experience. He had tried to peek through the keyhole but seeing fleeting glimpses of twisted bodies was even worse.