by Ian D. Moore
The wounded deadhead began to rise, gurgling and ejecting tooth fragments as he tried to suck in air with the pole embedded in his throat. It staggered to its feet once more to continue the advance. With deep breaths to overcome the nausea, the man straightened up and used the flat of his hand to shove the pole clean through the throat of the infected youth. He brought his left hand hard around, grabbing the protruding end nearest to him and yanking it around to his right, which sent the deadhead spinning one hundred and eighty degrees.
With all his might, he kicked the deadhead in the lower back, sending him face forwards onto the upturned chair, shearing off the top leg.
The sharp stump fragment went deep into the deadhead's chest and through its heart, killing him instantly. The body was left skewered over the slanted upturned chair, legs astride the remaining plastic seat supports, still pulsing as the blood pressure finally elapsed to nothing.
Nathan managed to reach the trembling man, who had collapsed to his knees with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he cried.
"Are you hurt? Are you hurt?" Nathan said again louder, snapping the man back to reality.
"N-No, I don't think so."
Giving the man a quick once over, Nathan could see no wounds evident. "We have to move. Now! Are your family safe? Did they get to the back of the truck?"
Nathan looked over his shoulder to see Evie heading his way.
"I've got the mum, baby, and son. They're all fine. You wanna get the hell out of here?" she yelled, with a sense of urgency, and turned back to the truck. Nathan placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.
"Come on, let's get you in. We're not far from the base now; we'll be safe there."
Nathan guided the still shaking man towards the truck and closed the tailgate after him. The man took a last look as he hugged his relieved family.
Evie checked on the children, who were upset and shaken by the noise of the rifle. She was sure they'd recover as they were two tough cookies. Nathan hauled himself into the driver's seat, passing the rifle to Evie.
"Safety's on, one in the pipe," he announced, closing the door and blipping the throttle ready to move.
"Thanks for the back-up, love, appreciated."
That was his last reference to the entire incident; their reference point for the perception of normal was changing.
***
Crunching the truck into second gear, followed by the hiss of the disengaged air brakes, they began to roll north, smashing a route through and leaving a trail of bent and mangled cars behind them. It took almost an hour to travel the remaining mile to the slip road exit. When they finally swung the tipper onto the straight road towards the base security entrance, what they saw made them all stop and stare.
Trucks, cars, camper vans, and just about every vehicle in-between lined the roadside. Those that had keys had been parked along the tree line; those without had simply been bulldozed into the water gullies running either side of the road, to create what looked like a vehicle corridor. Slowly, Nathan edged forward, no faster than walking pace, before making a sharp right turn into the heavily guarded gate entrance. He stopped.
Green-clad soldiers surrounded the huge metal gates, and heavy artillery had been mounted along the front fence a couple of hundred yards farther on. The army had been busy it seemed. They were coping with the influx of thousands of people; sporadic gunfire indicated that deadheads were also trying to gain entry around the perimeter. Immediately behind the twenty-foot high, self-propelled main gates sat a Challenger 2 Main Battle Tank, flanked by two FV510 Warrior infantry attack vehicles. A sweep of the ground a few feet in front of the fencing, either side of the gate, revealed that anti-personnel mines had been deployed, stretching as far in either direction as Nathan could see.
After what seemed like minutes, Nathan killed the engine, and the truck rattled until it was silent. He turned to look at Evie and then the children.
"We made it. Now all we have to do is get in. Nobody shout, and don't try to leave the truck for now. We don't want any twitchy trigger fingers from them."
He thought fast, trying to formulate a plan and not relishing the idea of stepping out from the truck yet. He turned the ignition key to light up the dashboard. Evie stared at him.
"What are you doing?" she said, sounding a little worried.
Nathan turned to look at her before flicking the main beam headlight flasher in three short bursts, then three longer held bursts, and again three short bursts—a dot, dot, dot then dash, dash, dash, and again dot, dot, dot—before waiting. He sent an old-fashioned internationally recognised Morse Code signal for the letters SOS, hoping that the troops at the gate were familiar with it. With no immediate response, he sent the same series of short and long flashes again, only this time he received a flashlight reply, to indicate that the message had been understood.
The gate motors began to whine, and slowly, the huge metal barrier started to slide sideways, before stopping only a few feet open, allowing a lone soldier with a loud hailer to come through. The soldier, raising the device to his mouth, spoke clearly and slowly, giving them instructions to step out of the vehicle, stand in front of it, and raise their hands in full view. Nathan nodded, opening his door and turning to carry Tom. Evie picked up Holly, taking care as they stepped down from the high cab and moved to the front of the vehicle with hands held out palms up. Nathan looked directly at the lone soldier.
"We are unarmed, and we have survivors in the rear of the truck, children, and an infant," he shouted
"I understand, sir. I am sending some people out to escort you in. We'll move the vehicle shortly. Please call the other survivors to you."
Nathan could see snipers with weapons trained and at least twenty soldiers, all with raised guns pointing their way. He called out to the father, son, and mother to join him. The tailgate clanked open.
"We're okay. Just keep calm and do as they say. It will be fine," Nathan assured them.
A group of six armed soldiers came from the gate, each taking up flanking positions around Nathan and the others as they moved towards the entrance, with Nathan holding Tom's hand and Evie holding Holly's hand. For what was in reality, a short walk, it felt like an eternity.
"Let me talk to them first, okay. You have to trust me now," Evie muttered.
At the time, Nathan thought that it seemed like a bizarre thing for her to say, but all would be clear soon.
They were taken to a check-in building, situated a short way behind the huge Challenger 2, where they were asked to provide identification. Nathan pulled his wallet, flashing his press card and driver's licence. Evie told the soldiers about the children and their missing mother. She then produced a plastic ID card.
"I am Lieutenant Dr. Evelyn Shepherd 17305050. I need to speak with the Commanding Officer as soon as possible.”
***
The rescued family was checked in, and once the process had been followed for each of the party, they were sent to a small holding room to have their identification verified, before being allowed to enter the main site. The father of the family came to Nathan.
"We owe you our lives and are in your debt; thank you for stopping to help us. I didn't think we would get out of that alive. My name is Steve Grey; my wife Janey, son Luke, and our daughter Gracie." He gripped Nathan's hand and shook it vigorously.
He heard the man talking, the words echoing in his head, but Nathan wasn't really listening.
Evie. Did she say Lieutenant and Doctor? Where had they taken her now? Doctor of what, exactly?
He looked at Steve and his family; they would live to fight another day. His mind raced over Evie; he had become very fond of her in the last two days, exceptional though the circumstances were.
I thought I knew her, but I don't really know her at all, do I?
*******
Revelations
The teams of doctors had scattered for their tasks. Lieutenant Colonel Richard Connell walked with Charles to the site offices, one of w
hich was now a makeshift meeting room. Upon entering the building, Charles could smell the aroma of medical-grade disinfectants mixed with an underlying industrial cleaning agent; bio-suits hung at the doorways, with respirators on stand-by.
"This area is completely clean, Charles. My team have quite literally taken it apart, decontaminating every possible surface. The virus does not survive in air after three hours from release as far as we know. Without the documented data from Salby lab, we don't know exactly what kills it or if it was designed to self-destruct. There is a group of company officials from the SGFC assembled in the meeting room through here. They are not aware of the existence of the Salby facility but have been told that the site under the town is a designated area of national historic value.” Charles nodded as Richard spoke.
“We have called them in to try to shed some light on the wellhead operations before and up to the point of the explosion. We're also interested to know more of Brin Garrett, their chief production wellhead foreman, unfortunately an early casualty. He was the head honcho on site at the time of the incident. Please, Charles, follow my lead, but by all means, come in with any input you may have," Richard finished.
Charles smiled at Richard and replied, "Got that! I'd like to see detailed plans of the wellhead and access any data they may have in relation to the chemicals used in the fracking operation. I'll have a few questions for them, I'm sure."
***
The stares of three executives from the company greeted Richard and Charles. The executives were impeccably dressed with briefcases at their side and files in folders laid out on the table before them. One of the men stood, pushing his chair with the back of his legs, making room to turn and offer his hand in greeting. He was a middle-aged, a thin, pale-faced chap with slicked back comb-over hair and small circular rimmed glasses; his very expensive suit looked like it had been hung upon him. Extending a fragile looking lily-white hand towards Richard, he introduced himself.
"I am Colin Snape, assistant executive officer for the company. This is Brian Goulding, our chief engineer and lastly, Meriam Stuart, the company press officer. And you would be?" the stringy-looking man asked, leaving the sentence open; he was used to being in authority and control, but not here and now.
Richard too was a man of authority, and like a silent game of chess, where words were the knights and bishops, he cut through the conversation with the grace of a professional adversary.
"Please sit down, Mr. Snape, all of you, please.” Richard smiled as he spoke but only with his mouth, his eyes remained focused and searching as he continued.
“You'll appreciate that time is a critical factor given the circumstances here, so it is important that we ascertain the facts. We have a number of questions for you and your associates that will help us in our investigation. We will require your full co-operation, I'm sure you understand."
Richard was setting the rules of engagement. Before awaiting any response from the executives, he sat, leafing through his own folder, before looking up to indicate that he was ready to start.
"I am Lieutenant Colonel Connell and this is my esteemed colleague Lieutenant Colonel Dr. Fitzgerald. We have been assigned to this incident and report directly to the Secretary of Defence."
Richard oozed authority as he spoke and intentionally held back their first names; tone was all—and he intended to set the rules of play firmly in his own favour.
"We found three bodies upon entering the site. The first was that of Mr. Brin Garrett, previously your chief production wellhead foreman, according to his ID badge. We would like his employee record and profile, please. The second body we found was that of an as-yet unidentified six-year-old girl. We are still looking into that. The final body was another of your company employees, Kevin Juras, an engineer. We'll need his file too, along with all of your records of all employees working on shift at the time of the incident, which we put at between one and three of that morning."
Mr. Snape looked blankly at his colleagues for support. His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke. He studied the impeccably dressed officer, the crisp creases of his shirt, manicured fingernails visible despite the interlocked hands on the desk in front of him. He was clearly a man of high standards.
"All of the records relating to the number and names of those on shift are on a company laptop that should have been in this office. Currently, there are two laptops and numerous files, folders, and maps missing. Would you know where they might be, Colonel?"
Snape practically spat out the words. He was clearly rattled by Richard's style and barely concealed hint that the company was implicated in his tone. Looking directly at Snape, the senior officer addressed the question.
"When we arrived on scene, the first to enter the site offices made a video for evidence; the surrounding scenes were also recorded. There were no laptops present however, but I am quite sure that a company the size of SGFC will have a hard copy back-up, so we will expect the requested details to be delivered to us shortly."
Charles Fitzgerald could sense the tension in the room between Richard and his slight opponent, so he addressed the chief engineer instead, in a firm but gentler tone.
"Mr. Goulding, can you explain why Mr. Garrett chose to drill to a depth of just over one mile before heading horizontally west towards the town, when the standard drill depth for shale plays is two to five miles down? At that depth, he would have been lucky to have found drinking water, let alone methane shale gas, wouldn't you agree?"
Mr. Goulding looked compromised as he attempted a response.
"Without the more detailed files for the progress at the wellhead, I am unable to clarify the actions of the wellhead foreman and can only speculate. What we do have are hard copies of the wellhead site plan, along with schematic diagrams for proposed exploration plays, umm, boreholes which I am happy for you to take now."
He handed the files in front of him to Charles, who took them. He flipped to the schematic and followed the lines to where the Salby town boundary was. Scratching his head, he addressed the chief engineer again.
"Can you show me where on this schematic that it says there is any likelihood of shale gas underneath the town of Salby? Could you confirm that the Secretary of State denied a previous exploration request in or around the town boundary limits, due to the historic nature of national interest of the land directly beneath the town?"
The final part of the question induced a coughing fit from the now flustered chief engineer. He attempted a reply.
"I, I really cannot comment on the schematic, Sir. However, I am aware of the denied exploration request details, copies of which were given to Mr. Garrett."
Now it was the turn of Meriam Stuart, the company press officer, to ask a question directed at Lieutenant Colonel Connell.
"Colonel, you can understand the delicate situation this accident has caused the company. As the press officer, I must ask that all communications relating to it come through me at company HQ, before being made public."
Charles sensed Richard's metaphorical spines being raised and that both barrels were about to be unleashed from his old friend.
"Ahhhhh, Miss Stuart? Or it is Mrs.? This accident, as you call it, may or may not be an accident, and furthermore, thousands of people are dying as a direct result of your company's actions. If I were in your shoes, I would be looking for alternative employment because by the time the government has finished with SGFC, it will only be capable of filling re-useable lighters. Right now, we have no more questions, but don't go too far as we may need to speak to you once we have studied the data and maps that you will provide to us immediately. You'll be given accommodation here for the time being but will not, and I repeat, will not, be given access to the wellhead. That's all. Charles, if you'll join me?" Richard stood to leave, oblivious to his impact upon the company executives.
Doctors Kate Simmons and Hans Goedricht, molecular scientist and physicist, donned bio-chemical hazardous material suits, with respiratory enclosed hoods, gloves, and
fold-over boots. From what they knew of the virus, it should be inactive as it was exposed to air for over twenty-four hours previously. This should have rendered it harmless, but given the lethal nature of it, and the capability of it to spread so quickly, no one was prepared to take any chances.
Although access to the explosion site was not possible and would have to be done remotely by drone, they still needed to take test samples, as well as identify the quantity and nature of the explosives used and damage caused. There had been no communication from the Salby underground facility to confirm casualties. Nor were there damage reports for any of the other storage tanks. Identifying the virus strain was a priority.
***
As they approached the locked-down wellhead test borehole, they could see that it now had an airtight container around it, utilising pressurised doors, spray cleansing booth, and halon gas. This would keep any contagion on the ground but was itself toxic to humans. The scientists ran diagnostic checks on the drone to be sent down the well; it had to work flawlessly. They began the slow, precise operation of taking samples every hundred feet; an on-board video stream recorded the descent. It would take a couple of hours for the drone to reach the explosion site. This was going to be a long night.
***
In the makeshift mortuary, Dr. Moses Sighal had begun an autopsy on the body of Brin Garrett, taking blood and tissue samples for testing. He ascertained that the cause of death was penetration to the underside of his chin by a sharp implement. It had entered the brain, killing him instantly. The black, thick, jelly-like mottled substance that had been extracted from Garrett’s arm surprised Moses. At first, he thought that it was additional infection.
