Salby Damned

by Ian D. Moore

  "Lieutenant Shepherd, Paul Sower. You know Dr. Fitzgerald on a personal level, I take it?" The major had picked up on the nickname Evie had used.

  "Yes, Sir, I do. He was my tutor and backer through med school and university, and the one who encouraged me to look to the MOD and molecular science as a career."

  "Ah, I see. Captain Devon has sent word to Lieutenant Colonel Connell and Dr. Fitzgerald to return to the base as soon as possible. By helicopter, I would expect them to be here within the hour. In the meantime, would you take us through the series of events that led you here, so that we can get a picture of what has happened?" The major's hands interlocked neatly on the tabletop before him.

  Evie began at the conference meeting with the SGFC, taking the two officers through the scene and tone of the event, before hearing of the initial explosion at the wellhead site in the early hours of the following morning. She explained that she had been told by residents initially and had driven to the boundary around three to four hours later, unaware at the time of the possible damage to her own facility. While the listening officers were aware of her role within the MOD, the technical information she possessed was classified, even to them, and could only be shared with Lieutenant Colonel Connell or Dr. Fitzgerald. They could then follow the chain of command as they saw fit, in line with the operational need to know orders that Evie followed.

  She told them of the involvement of former Sergeant Nathan Cross. She had gathered intelligence on him before making contact, knowing that he would be a good asset for any confrontation between SGFC and herself in any conflict involving her facility. Evie's orders had come directly from the Secretary of Defence some months ago. The files were located in the facility, and her agenda was to prevent the operations of SGFC near the town of Salby, by whatever means possible. She had been given assistance to locate former military personnel in the area that she deemed trustworthy, but they were not to be given any information that would infringe upon or contravene the Official Secrets Act. It was strictly a need to know basis for outsiders, given the sensitive nature of the facility and its deadly stockpile. Nathan Cross was a freelance reporter, and he had connections within the Army, an impeccable service record, and military skills in combat, weapons, and chemical warfare, as well as being handy with a tool box.

  He also has some skills that aren't for broadcasting. That information is classified to everyone.

  Evie continued after an imperceptible pause as she thought about Nathan's near-naked body wrapped around her, quickly describing the scenes at the wellhead site when they had arrived. She relayed in detail the first contact with the infected souls, the small child attacking Brin Garrett, followed by the dash to escape the deranged, infected engineer. She told them of the plans, maps, and intelligence on the laptops they had taken from the offices and of the plan to make it to Dishforth, picking up survivors along the way.

  "You have had quite an adventure, Lieutenant. You must be exhausted by now. When did you last eat and sleep?" The major sounded genuinely concerned.

  "It has been awhile for both, Sir, but I really must speak with Dr. Fitzgerald first."

  "I understand that, Evelyn," he said, using her first name to make his point and continued in a more paternal tone, "but you'll be of no use to anyone if you collapse through lack of food or sleep. Captain Devon will escort you to the cookhouse for food and will allocate you sleeping quarters within the residential block. This is not a request, Dr. Shepherd. Captain, if you please?"

  The major signalled for his officer to escort her; they all rose and Evie resigned herself to her immediate fate.

  "The lieutenant colonel and Dr. Fitzgerald should be here within hours. I will see to it personally that you are informed as soon as they touch down."

  Major Sower nodded to the captain’s salute and then left the room. The captain saw the dejected look in Evie's eyes. When the door closed behind him, he spoke.

  "The major is not unlike the lieutenant colonel; they are both old school and well respected. If he says he'll come and find you, then you can be sure he will do just that, Lieutenant. Now, I have my orders to get you fed and settled, and that is what we're going to do. If you'll follow me, please."

  "Yes. Thank you, Captain."

  Resigned to following the captain towards the main catering area, Evie managed to look around, and although it was now approaching 2300hrs, the floodlights kept the base well illuminated to the perimeters. The officer pointed out the dormitory hangar, the youngsters’ play area and crèche. He handed her a level nine security pass before leaving her in the queue for much-needed food.

  ***

  With a cottage pie and some strong black coffee, she sat and made a mental note to check the children as soon as she had a minute and to try to explain herself to Nathan. He had been on her mind lately, and she hoped that he would understand why she'd acted in the way that she did. The cookhouse was busy for the hour with endless comings and goings of military and civilian survivors alike. Finishing her meal and returning the plate and fork to be cleaned and re-used, she walked slowly to the residential block, keying in the code assigned to her by Captain Devon to allow access to the front doors.

  She found her room a little way along the dimly lit hallway. The walls were an off-white surplus paint colour, contrasting a dark red heavy-duty vinyl floor covering. As she pushed the door open, a musty smell of age met her; the room seemed to have been waiting for years—just for her arrival. Sparsely furnished, with a grey metal-framed single bed on the main wall, feet end centred, it had a functional side cabinet in old hardwood, flecked from previous years of use, upon which had been placed a single white towel. A long sausage-type tubular pillow adorned a single plastic-covered mattress; grey multi-weave blankets had been folded on the top.

  Evie perched on the edge of the bed, springs groaning at her meagre weight, and slipped off her shoes, the cool air blissfully caressing her sore feet. The accommodation block had a shared bathroom, although she hadn't seen or heard anyone else. Peeling down to her underwear, she wrapped the towel around herself and padded through her door intent on a long hot soak to ease her tired muscles. It would likely be a couple of hours before Dr. Fitzgerald returned from the wellhead site, so there would be time to wash and possibly even for an hour’s rest.

  Peering into the bathroom, she could see that someone had left an almost empty bottle of shampoo on the side of the tub. With a little effort, there would be enough for what she needed, she thought as she turned on the taps, watching as the rising steam danced in swirls into the air. Popping the clasp on her bra and hunching her shoulders to allow the straps to fall forwards, she let gravity take it to the ground at her feet. Wiggling out of the cotton panties, she threw them and the bra into the now piping-hot bath water, watching as they slowly sank to the bottom. Kneeling naked, she swished the water with her hand. She recovered the garments, giving them a quick wash through with just a little of the shampoo before rinsing them out, then ringing them practically dry. She hung them on the towel rail.

  With one tentative foot, she slowly climbed into the bath, letting out a “Wahaha!” from the heat of the water. She knelt and eventually sat, her skin slowly turning a crimson red as the therapeutic soak sent the blood rushing around her body, loosening muscles and dissipating tension. Evie took the top off the shampoo bottle, having inverted it before lowering herself into the bath. The shampoo had pooled in the cap, so she poured a portion of it into her free hand, then massaged it into her scalp, feeling the frothy suds foam up with the motion. She used the excess to wash her arms, legs, body, and feet before lying down with the water at her neck.

  Resting her head on the back wall, again she found herself thinking about Nathan, kicking herself mentally. She hadn't planned on the intimacy, hadn't planned on any kind of relationship let alone what she felt now. As a half-hearted attempt at self-justification, she thought that he hadn't been completely honest either; he hadn't mentioned his service record, but maybe he took milita
ry security seriously too, like her?

  When he had kissed her several times the night before, she thought she could feel his tenderness despite the reservation; he wasn’t leading her on, was he? The soothing heat of the water made her eyelids feel like lead. With thoughts of Nathan adding to her sense of well-being, she allowed them to close.

  *******

  Contact

  In the makeshift mortuary, the smell of sterility wafted in the air. Dr. Mo Sighal scrubbed down, having completed the autopsy upon the body of the unfortunate Mr. Brin Garrett. Before speaking, Dr. Fitzgerald looked over the remains, admiring the precise stitching at the closing of the recent incisions into the man's chest.

  "How are things progressing, Mo?"

  "Well, Charles, I'll have the preliminary report for you tomorrow, but I can tell you that there were no traces of drugs or alcohol in his system. However, there were no traces of red or white blood cells either. They had been assimilated by the virus cells. There is some abnormal brain shrinkage, but without the necessary scanning equipment, I cannot locate the precise cause; the optical nerves in both eyes have been dramatically constricted, and his vision would have been impaired when he was alive. The substance in his veins that used to be blood, I'll need to send to the nearest bio-laboratory for analysis. It would be fair to say that it is still capable of sustaining oxygen, although some samples had begun to deteriorate visibly." Dr. Sighal looked slightly puzzled.

  "It would seem that without Dr. Shepherd, we are still only capable of educated guesses, my friend. Given the limited equipment, you've done well. We can only hope that she is still alive, or we're going to have one hell of a puzzle to solve," Charles added.

  The door to the mortuary opened sharply. A young signalman, fresh faced but looking flustered, hurried in.

  "Dr, Dr. Fitzgerald, Sir," he gasped, trying to steady his breathing.

  "Slow down, lad, take your time and speak carefully."

  The young soldier took a breath, before attempting to relay the message he had been tasked with delivering.

  "Dr. Fitzgerald, Sir, I have an urgent message from MOD base Dishforth, Major Sower. It reads as follows, Sir. Evelyn Shepherd found -STOP- Lieutenant Colonel Connell and Dr. Charles Fitzgerald return to Dishforth immediately -STOP- Helicopter airborne and en-route -STOP- Confirm-STOP- End message."

  "Thank you, Signalman Mathews, please confirm that we have received the message and will prepare to leave for Dishforth now. If you haven't already done so, would you inform Lieutenant Colonel Connell?"

  "It's already done, Sir. The chopper should be here in just under half an hour. Thank you, Sir."

  As the signalman left, and for the first time in two days, Charles felt a sense of relief that Evie was alive, although he had no indication of what shape she might be in. Wasting no time, he left Dr. Sighal to his work, the next autopsy being to examine the small child.

  Charles headed back to the main offices, looking for Richard. He left Dr. Sighal with instructions for the rest of the team and in temporary medical command of the location. Charles walked back with an added sense of urgency, meeting Lieutenant Colonel Connell on the way, who was apparently already looking for him.

  “Did you get the message, Charles?”

  "Yes. I was just coming to find you. How long until the chopper arrives?"

  "It won't be too long. Are you ready to go? You'll be leaving your team here to finish up, I take it?"

  "Yes, Richard. There are still some tests to be completed at the wellhead, and with the bodies we found here, hopefully it won't take too long to get the results. My team are working flat out."

  "Okay, good. Did they tell you anything more about Evelyn? Do you know if she's okay?"

  "No, I don’t know, just the message that they had found her; that is a huge relief on its own. Hopefully, she'll be unharmed and able to fill us in on the missing pieces."

  "We'll call a meeting when we get there, and I've sent instructions to Major Sower to prepare the function room ready."

  In the distance, the melodic low-pitched thump of the helicopter rotor engine indicated it would land in a matter of minutes to take them back to Dishforth Base.

  ***

  At West Tower Two, Nathan had been telling Chris about the last few years since they had seen each other. He spoke of the death of his wife Katelyn in the car smash, and how the effect of that had turned his life into a whirlpool of despair. He spoke of his job as a freelance reporter, and they chatted about old times as they kept watch over the main base fences. As he scanned the tree line, Nathan picked up movement through the foliage. Branches bent and sharp cracks echoed as fallen sticks were broken. Something or someone was coming in and fast.

  Looking over at West Tower One, he pressed the talk button, bringing the small handset to his mouth.

  "Chris, eleven o’ clock, coming through the tree line. Can't make it out yet. Take a look and see if you can get a better view from over there."

  "Roger that! Checking now!"

  Their tones changed in an instant from light-hearted banter to professional soldiers, their civilian lives put on hold for another time. The rustling of the trees continued as the first infected deadhead burst into the rough ground, bounding forwards towards the mines.

  "Chris, I got one, possibly others. I'll cover this one; scan for more activity as I don't think he's alone."

  Grabbing the loud hailer, Chris spoke clearly and firmly.

  "Stand to!"

  The fence guards on the ground dispersed into a flurry of activity, taking up cover and loading weapons as they too scanned the surrounding area beyond the fence. Placing the loud hailer back at his feet, Chris raised his weapon to scope out any more inbound threats, picking out three more in the slightly orange hue from the scope.

  "Got three more inbound, same track as the first," Stewey spoke into the radio, letting Nathan know.

  Nathan levelled the crosshairs of the scope on the approaching deadhead, taking note of his strides as he bobbed up and down. Not yet firing, he shouted at the incoming man.

  "Army stop! You are approaching an anti-personnel mined area. Stand still and you will not be harmed."

  All military personnel on guard duty had been instructed to shout a warning to anyone approaching before opening fire. As yet, no one had responded to the warnings.

  The deadhead male forged onwards, only slowed by the tall, knotted grass hindering his feet. The incoming deadhead looked drawn and exhausted, with cobalt dark circles around shiny black sunken eyes; this man looked like he hadn't slept for at least two days. He wore blue overalls, and though stained and dirty from the woodland passage, the faded SGFC logo at the left shoulder could still be seen. He must have been one of the first infected at the wellhead location, almost twenty miles south, and yet, here he was, a hundred yards from the Dishforth Base West fence.

  Still closing, the deadhead was intent on making the twelve-foot high razor-wired perimeter. Nathan placed the crosshairs of the scope mounted on the sniper rifle between the man’s eyes, counting the rhythm of his steps. Flicking off the safety and pausing at his exhale, he squeezed back on the steel trigger, holding the target in his vision as the rifle recoiled slightly with a loud crack, sending the .300 calibre round on its fatal short flight.

  The impact lifted the deadhead male clear off his feet, throwing him backwards into the grass. Fragments of the bridge of his nose catapulted from the back of his head, having passed straight through, pulling with them brain matter and a coffee-mat-sized section of the back of the man's skull, which somersaulted through the air to land a few feet behind the body.

  Chris had the second in his sights, and after shouting at the man to stop without response, he took him out with a clean shot through the left temple, the bullet exiting cleanly and dropping the deadhead, inertia sending his body sliding forwards on his belly.

  The first of the two remaining deadheads approached the edge of the mined area. The fence guards took aim, and with six S
A80 rifles trained on the female aggressor and no response to two verbal warnings to stop, they opened fire, cutting her down before she could advance any further. The smaller rounds ripped into her body. Designed to stay in, rather than exit, they watched as the female performed a bizarre dance when each bullet found its mark. After vital organs were hit, the woman fell to her knees, and with one final look as the life left her body, she tumbled forward, burying her face in the turned earth to move no more.

  Nathan picked up the last of the group in his sights. This one was a young girl, early teens by her clothing, her face still showing the tinges of excess make-up and heavy eyeliner. She was probably only infected recently with the virus, maybe by one of the fallen deadheads. He heard the warnings given by the fence guards as the girl entered the mined area, less than thirty feet from the fence. After no response, the teenager began to walk forwards, moving quickly and from side to side, intentionally or as a result of the virus would never be known. She crossed the main threshold into an area covered with PMN Anti-Personnel Fragmentation Mines, as well as the smaller and much harder to see BPD-SB-33 scatter mine, which looked like an oddly shaped large cookie, about nine inches in diameter and sandy brown in colour.

  A shot from one of the fence guards hit the girl at the left kneecap, shattering the joint and spinning her to the left as her arms flailed for balance. Just about standing, she tried to bear weight on the shattered limb, which sent her falling sideways to the ground, landing on the PMN mine buried beneath the surface. The fence guards hit the deck in unison, taking cover as she began to fall, knowing of the imminent explosion. With a barely audible click as the mine activated, the force of the ejected metal fragments and shards within the mine separated the young girl from her legs at the waist, sending her torso in an arm-spinning arc ten feet backwards as her severed lower limbs half-cartwheeled in the opposite direction. As she landed on her shoulders, her torso had fallen on another hidden mine, this time detonating beneath her and forcing her internal organs upwards, parting her chest in a shower of ribs, heart, lungs, spinal column, and infected viral blood, and taking her right arm off at the shoulder joint to land a few feet away.