Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (13 page)

Kingsley grinned at Baker as the others formed up;
leaning in Kingsley whispered his voice passing no further than
Bakers ear.

'Took you long enough mate, what happened?'

Baker raised a hand motioning for him to shelve the
questions until later. Kingsley nodded plastering a self assured
smirk back across his features as Baker's small detail fell in beside
the rest.

'Okay boys and girls, we are going to enter what is
known as the Dead Box. During the initial formation of Broadhead, the
higher up's deemed it necessary to take in and study several of the
Infected. I cannot disclose where they came from, you're not paid
enough to know, and frankly you wouldn't want to, trust me on that.'

Stepping forwards slightly, Baker waved his hand
indicating the building's in front of them as Kingsley stopped
speaking.

'The two buildings behind you now house Infected.
Remember, although they have had their teeth removed and fingers
bound up in a Kevlar coated webbing they are very real, as is the
threat they pose; not only to you but to your team mates.

Your kit is decked out with a series of sensors that
register a certain type of contact, in this case conductive impact.
If the Infected touches you the suit registers it and shocks you
accordingly.

Before you ask it is capable of differentiating between
falls and physical contact, if you slip and land on your arse nothing
will happen, but if an Infected comes into contact with you!'

Baker strode up to the nearest recruit and punched him
in the chest, a soft beep was heard as he went ridged and fell to the
floor spasmodically convulsing, the muscles in his body rapidly
contracting and flexing as the small charged current raced through
him.

'That happens.'

Baker motioned to the two men on either side of him.

'Help him up will you, he's getting my drill square
dirty.'

Baker turned his back to the teams, as the two soldiers
helped their mildly dazed compatriot to his feet a wide grin running
across his face, he brushed it aside before turning to face the men
once more.

'You will be issued with a pepper ball gun that contains
a highly concentrated cerebral paralyser. It knocks an Infected out
cold, although funnily enough punching them in the head achieves the
same result, I should know I've done it'.

Several of the soldiers looked more than sceptical,
others just grinned at the forced mental image.

'Now, I will not tell you the whereabouts, or number of
the enemy; as I don't actually know, and also it's cheating. I would
much rather watch you stumble about in there scared witless, it's
more fun that way, besides they are left to roam the buildings
freely. With that said all that remains for me to say is get in there
and kick some ass.'

The men filed into the building, moving to where another
member of the training staff distributed the weapons and ammunition.
The floor was nothing more than dust laden concrete. As they shuffled
through grasping hands reached out for the proffered weapons and
another instructor rattled off a set of instructions, his monotone
and slightly bored voice doing nothing to negate the rising sense of
trepidation and excitement coursing through the men as they neared
the entrance.

Davies glanced at Sharp, the Scotsman’s eyes alive
with a child like sense of excitement as he checked his weapon's
mechanism.

'Form into teams of two and move through your designated
zone, remember, limb and body shots are ineffective; only head shots
will put down the Infected. Move quickly and quietly towards your
objective markers.

Fail
to reach your markers by the time allotted and your team will be
considered eliminated and therefore washed from the programme, are we
clear?'

Outside Baker and Kingsley stood side by side; Kingsley
turned and looked at Baker, eyebrow raised.

'So with this lot what do you reckon?'

Baker took on a mildly contemplative look as he ran
through the list of candidates.

'I
think fools money would be placed on the Special Air and Special Boat
Service boys washing out; although, there are a couple I would like
to keep an eye on, would have told you earlier when you asked, but I
wanted to get them in the Box first.'

Kingsley nodded as Derek continued to talk. 'The
Scottish SAS guy named Sharp. He seems solid enough but something is
bugging me about him, he's a competent operator, his record reflects
that; just need you to watch him when I ain't around.

Second is Davies, came in with Clarkenwell, his C.O at
Stirlinglines had him pegged for promotion and seems to think he
would be a good choice for team two section chief, and from what I
have read, I would agree.'

Kingsley nodded as he motioned for Baker to continue as
Derek raised his fist to stifle a yawn.

`The
Paratroopers, they're One Para, part of the Special Forces Support
Group so...'

He
simply shrugged as he left the sentence hanging.

'I think the Commandos though, I would put them in the
same boat as the Special Forces fellas, only odd birds in the mix are
the Princess of Wales Royal Regiment and the Irish Guards guys who
could go either way.'

Turning to Kingsley he grinned. 'What about you, what do
you think?' Kingsley shrugged Non-committally.

'I
think I need a drink, you coming.' Baker watched his friend turn and
walk away as he looked at his watch. 'Fuck it, go on then.'

They walked off towards the Sergeant's mess, amicably
chatting between themselves.

Hamilton and Jones, both corporals in the Princess of
Wales Royal Regiment, quickly coasted through the corridor ahead of
them. The floor was slick with stagnant water and slime from the
dilapidated state of the building; the soft pattering of dripping
water echoed back at them as they stopped momentarily to gain their
bearings. Silently they both dropped to one knee, back-to-back they
covered either end of the corridor as Jones checked the small map in
his hand. Taping Hamilton on the head he rose to his feet and moved
off watching his footing as the floor groaned beneath him.

Both men moved as quietly as they could, ears pricked
for the slightest sound, Jones' eyes narrowed as he watched the water
covering the floor shift. A small rolling ripple flowed out from the
corner ahead as a shambling Infected shuffled into view; its flesh
puckered and blue its dull lifeless eyes searching for anything
resembling food as it scanned the darkness.

Both men slid to a stop, their trainer covered feet
gliding as they aquaplaned on the liquid covered floor; almost
tripping, they fought for traction. Their guns spat out rapid bursts
of the small pellets near simultaneously, a hissing puff of
compressed air rolling from the barrels in a conical spray.

The shuffling Infected jerked with the impact as the
pellets crashed into its shoulder and throat. The Infected pirouetted
on its heels its atrophying muscles and ligaments doing little to
support its dying plague ridden body. They scrambled to their feet as
the creature, with a wailing screech, charged at the pair. Bare feet
slapped water as it ploughed towards them, its eyes suddenly dancing
with a feral awareness it had lacked only seconds before. Its mouth
opened in what could only have been an attempted snarl, the twisted
black gums doing little to slake the nightmare inducing image before
the two career servicemen.

Hamilton was first to his feet, shaking his head side to
side as he tried in vain to clear the haze from where his head had
hit the floor. Looking up all he saw was the torn bloodied shirt of
the Infected and the small stitched name tag sewn into it as it
bodily slammed into him. Hitting the floor he began to convulse as
the suit delivered shock after shock into his prostrate form.

His teeth chattered as he grimaced, groaning with effort
as he tried to push the creature off of his chest. His breath rasped
as the bound fists of the Infected slammed into his torso, the dull
crunch of its bound hands echoing off the walls as it attempted to
rip him limb from limb. Leaping to his feet Jones fired off three
rapid bursts into the Infected's head from point blank range watching
the pellets punch through its weakened semi-necrotic skull, the exit
wound blossomed like a macabre rose bathing Hamilton in a putrid
paste of brain matter and skull fragments.

Wiping his gloved hand over the ballistics mask he wore,
Hamilton could feel the wet paste-like texture of crushed grey matter
and the grit like quality of its shattered skull grating over the
hardened plastic mask covering his face, he curled his fingers
scooping the mixture up into his hand and letting it fall to the
floor with a plop akin to dripping porridge.

Holding his hand out Jones helped Hamilton to his feet
the light reflecting in his eye drew his attention as he glanced to
his watch covered wrist.

'Fuck, we better move, three minutes till rendezvous.'

Casting his gaze sideways Jones gave voice to his as yet
unasked question.

'How does that feel anyway?'

Hamilton punched Jones in the chest, his irate anger at
being shocked twice in the space of thirty minutes spilling over
slightly as he watched the contorted features of his friend and squad
mate glare back at him from behind his mask.

'Like that.'

Holding his hand out Hamilton helped Jones to his feet
both men continuing onwards to their rendezvous point.

****

Mariani and Fisher ghosted through their zone with
surgical precision, the two Irish Guardsmen didn't bat an eyelid as
three Infected came stumbling out of a doorway ahead of them, guns
pressed tightly into their shoulders the small weapons spat six times
and they watched as all three Infected fell to the floor immobilised.

'Is it just me or is this a little boring, these things
are far to easy to take down.'

Glancing to his left he saw Fisher grin as they made
their way round the corner.

'Don't forget bud these have been stewing in their
juices for God knows how long, the newly Infected are basically a
psychotic version of me or you with a massive appetite for anything
edible, so yeah of course these are going to be easy to slot, they're
already half way dead.'

****

In the control centre two officers stood and watched the
men progress on the hidden cameras that covered the entire training
arena.

'They're getting bored huh.'

Colinson leaned over staring at the monitor in front of
him.

'Okay, release subjects twenty-three, eighteen,
ninety-two and one hundred and six into their zone see how they do
with them.

The Americans were kind enough to send over a fresh
batch last week so that should liven things up and give them some
livelier meat to play with.'

A technician nodded as he programmed the parameters into
the computer terminal in front of him, watching the monitor to his
right as it snapped between cameras watching as each door opened
revealing it's flesh starved occupant.

****

Corporals Riley and Baxter moved silent as wraiths
dropping anything that came into their path, turning to their right,
a small beep was heard and two impact proof Plexi-glass doors slid
into place blocking their entrance and exit, panic began to slowly
rise in both Commandos, guns pressed tighter to their shoulders as
they spun in all directions, covering any and all possible firing
angles their minds could conjure up.

'Congratulations gentlemen, rest easy you are in no
danger here, you both successfully reached your rendezvous point well
ahead of schedule, very well done.'

Both men visibly relaxed as the voice issued from hidden
speakers in the walls, 'set your weapons down in the box that is
appearing to your left and exit through the door on your right, again
well done men, welcome to stage two.'

Dropping
their weapons into the box the two Commandos made their way out into
the evening sun. Riley rubbing at his sweat dampened hair as he
marched out through the door.

'That was quick.'

Baxter just shrugged as he walked over to the small
grass embankment outside the building and lay down closing his eyes
against the warming light of the sun.

****

Sharp and Hooper, wandered down the corridor weapons
held lazily in their arms as they chatted to one another.

'So Splinter, how's the missus?'

Sharps eye brow rose as he looked at his friend.

'How many times have I asked you now, to not call me
that, I used it once a chat up line, and you've hounded me with it
ever since, fuck my life your annoying.'

Hooper laughed as he watched his friend bristle at the
name.

'Oh you know, it's a quirk of mine, annoying people'

He went quiet, letting the sentence trail off as he
listened before speaking again.