Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (25 page)

Jones turned the boy to face him, he was surprised to
find himself, staring into the face of a fifteen year-old child, he
looked a lot older, sighing Jones began to speak.

'No that,' He paused as he pointed down to the floor,
'Was not your mother, the one you stomped to death killed your
mother, that thing was not her.'

The child's mouth was working like a piston as he
struggled to gel together everything he was seeing with what he knew
was real. Jones watched as the kids mind whirled and swam, when the
air was split by a choked, wailing groan. Looking past the boy he saw
three Infected ambling towards them, their shambling gate all too
familiar to any cinema patron of the late eighties and early
nineties, as they advanced slowly down the corridor.

Their heads, rolling on their necks as they searched for
something of interest. A strangled, oil-filled groan bubbled from
within them as they slowly settled their gaze on the soldier and boy
before them. The boy's stuttered, blustering façade fell like
the Berlin wall as he baulked at the sight of what was before him, a
soft whispering murmur left his lips as he watched them advance.

'Zombies'

Jones' head snapped round as he heard the word leave the
boys lips, a look of sheer amazed condescension filled his features.

'Zombies, they aren't zombies, they're, for lack of a
better designation, psychotic cannibals; a zombie is a walking
corpse, these.'

He paused slightly, beginning to doubt his own words as
he took in the appearance of the Infected before him, shaking his
head slightly he ploughed onwards.

'These, are not zombies, in-fact to be fair, zombie is a
created term patented by a director in the late sixties and as I said
a walking corpse is impossible.'

'Well if they ain't fucking zombies then what are they,
you douche-bag'

Snatching up his rifle he fired three perfectly aimed
rounds into the Infected heads, dropping them all. They collapsed
into a heap on top of their fellow Infected, Jones looked down at the
boy's face his features white with fear, sneering he walked over and
kicked one of them over.

'These are Infected plain and simple, you take 'em out
with a single clean shot to the head, or to the heart, that,' he
pointed past the boy, 'was not you mother it was one of these.' He
kicked one of them in the head illustrating his point. 'End of
lesson.'

Jones placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, the kevlar
hardened leather heavy against the boys light frame, guiding him back
into the single floored dwelling he set the boy down in a chair and
stood before him.

'Anyone else here?'

The boy nodded, all the fight, and rebellious attitude
he had shown earlier was gone, showing him all too clearly, as the
child he really was.

'Who?'

The boy looked up at him as Jones reached out and took
the knife from his hand tossing it out the door.

'My sister Liz, she's only eight'

Jones nodded.

'What about your dad?'

The boy just shrugged indifferently.

'Don't know him'

Jones nodded once more, slightly stunned but unwilling
to let it show through.

'Right lose the jacket, trousers and your trainers,
chuck 'em out the door.'

He called over his shoulder as he walked to the window
shoving it open.

'Can't risk secondary infection.'

Reaching into a pouch on his hip he pulled out a small
red beacon light and hooked it over the window as he switched it on,
slamming the window shut he turned and saw the boy dressed in a grey
sleeveless t-shirt and Spiderman boxers throw his stained and
bloodied tracksuit out the door.

'Right lad come here, got to spray you down, sorry it's
going to sting and probably smell like shit but better than ending up
like one of them.'

As Jones pulled out a aerosol can of highly concentrated
disinfectant, Baxter and Reiley walked back in, a small girl
clutching tightly onto Reiley's neck as he carried her on one arm.
Her light blonde hair was plastered to her head as she sobbed into
his neck, setting her down on a chair Reiley walked to Jones' side.

'Place is clean.'

Jones nodded and tapped his throat mike twice before
calling through.

'Control, we have two minors on level one, placed beacon
in window and cleared the residence, please advise. Over'

The line bounced and crackled for a second before a calm
female voice spoke.

'This is control, contain, and detain as ordered.'

Jones groaned.

'Control that is a negative cannot comply, can contain
but detainment is not an option age restriction is in effect Control.
Over'

'Acknowledge, contain and detain as you see fit. Control
out.'

'Roger that Control. Over and out.'

The mist from the can clung to the boy like a second
skin, seeping into this pores and set his skin on fire, Jones watched
the boy's skin flare a pale shade of red as the disinfectant went to
work.

'Sorry kid, told you it would hurt'

His voice held very little sympathy for the child,
despite what his eyes conveyed to anyone who looked.

Liz looked at her brother, her eyes wide with fear and
the onset of shock.

'Robbie where's mummy? She looked funny after that man
was mean to her.'

'Robbie, so that's your name, nice to meet you Rob,
names Chris.'

Lifting his Nomex out the way Jones scratched the
underside of his chin the smattering of dark ginger stubble grating
against the tips of his gloved fingers.

'Okay boys, lets seal the room up and move on, Robbie I
want you to look after Liz until a friend of ours comes and gets you,
they will be in a big yellow suit and named Kirsty okay.'

Robbie nodded, slightly irked buy the tone of voice
Jones had subconsciously used with him.

'Okay lads sweep and clear the rest of this side we have
another twenty-three floors to go.'

With that, the three specialists swept out the room and
vanished.

2
6

The sixteenth floor loomed in front of them, the door
stained with the streaked, russet coloured prints of the fleeing
wounded. A body sat slumped in the corner of the stair well as Davies
crested the top step. He let his weapon fall across his stomach as he
approached the still form of the woman. With a deep pang of regret,
he slid his blade from its sheath on his chest and knelt down,
brushing away the tawny locks of hair from her face, he peered at the
delicate features before him. In another life she would have been a
stunning woman, the elfin chin, alabaster skin, and high cheekbones
gave her an almost surreal look, marred only by the blood staining
her tender visage. Cupping the back of her neck Davies pulled her
forwards, her cold dead eyes staring ahead, a look of sheer terror
locked across her now ghost-pale face. With a short, sharp jab Davies
slid the blade up through the base of her skull slicing deep into her
brain severing the spine and slicing the medulla oblongata clean in
two.

'Sorry, wish there was another way. I hope you find
peace.'

He wiped the blade on the leg of his uniform before
setting it back into the sheath on his chest. Reaching out, he gently
slid her eyes closed and rose to his feet once more.

'Come on lads, let's move on.'

****

The hot, stifling confines of the closed corridors
combined with the heat retentive Nomex masks they were ordered to
wear was slowly but surely wearing them down as they moved higher and
higher into tower block. Their legs pushing them up as they made
their way to the next floor, the burning in his thighs was beginning
to grate on his nerves as they reached the landing for their
destination.

Davies stood, his chest rising and falling slowly as he
controlled his breathing, Jones at his side, a silence engulfing them
as they scanned the corridors before them, 'Right boys, same shit
different floor. Let's get to work, same teams as before. Jones you
and your boys take the north side this time, me and the others have
the south.'

Jones nodded as his small team slipped away into the
sweltering heat of the corridors.

Davies sped down the corridor, a deep sense of dread
filled him and he just couldn't shake it, slamming his foot into the
door in front of him he stepped to the side as the others swept into
the room, the sight that greeted them surprised them all.

'What the fuck?'

Nothing was there, the room was completely bare,
Hamilton strolled in and stepped past Davies. The floor creaking
under him as he moved, Davies' senses were going haywire, thoughts
flying through his head faster than he could consciously process
them.

'Rory,
Do
not move.
'

Hamilton stood stock still he knew if Davies used his
first name something was very, very wrong, as soon as Hamilton's
weight settled the floor buckled and he dropped like a stone. Davies
leapt through the air as Hamilton dropped out sight, sliding along
the floor, his fingers just curled round Hamilton’s wrist as
he flew past the ceiling of the next room. 'Oh fuck, pull me up.' His
feet kicked at the air as he tried to claw his way to freedom.

The look in the eyes of the carnivorous beasts below him
chilled Hamilton to the core he knew they saw meat, and that they
were determined to get it.

Their mouths hung open in anticipation of a fresh meal,
saliva and blood hung in thick congealing ropes from their pale lips.

Davies felt himself sliding as he desperately clung to
Hamilton's wrist, dragging his blade from the sheath on his chest he
drove the carbon steel blade as hard as he could into the floor
beneath him, aiming the matte-black weapon at a jagged rent in the
concrete beneath him.

Clarkenwell drew a loop of parachute cord from his belt
kit and fed it through the gap between the wall and the door tying
the end around his combat knife, tugging at the improvised lanyard,
he leant against it as he curled the rest round his arm. He dug his
knee into the floor as he latched onto Davies booted foot, his hand
clamping down like a vice on his commanders ankle.

'Boss, I'm lashed on here, get him out of there!'

Clarkenwell felt the cord beginning to give as the
combined weight of the three men slowly but surely stretched the
cable to breaking point. His face was slowly turning scarlet as he
fought against the urge to release his grip.

The cordage, was slowly sliding, millimetre by
millimetre though his hand, the woven nylon began to bite into his
skin, as it burned through the leather of his glove. He ground his
teeth hard, as he ignored the pain shooting through his hand and arm,
determined to hold on.

Hamilton could feel the gradual slipping and knew it was
only a matter of a few minutes before the cord would give out
completely, the grip on his arm was beginning to slacken. Closing his
eyes he bid a farewell to those around him as he settled up with
whatever awaited him. Re-opening his eyes he looked Davies square in
the face and opened his hand letting his weight hang on Davies
weakening grip.

'
Boss
just let me go
,
',
he said as he dragged his side arm from the holster on his leg.
Gritting his teeth Davies let go of the embedded knife and swung his
hand down, grabbing on to Hamilton's webbing strap he curled his hand
tightly around it.

'You go, we go.'

Heaving upwards with a strength he didn't know he
possessed he lifted Hamilton clear from the hole, throwing the
twenty-four year old man up and over his head as he himself began to
slowly slip forwards. Hamilton found himself slamming face first into
the crumbling floor, his body scraping against the grit tarnished
floor, as the form of his commander slid past him.

A strangled cry of anger and pain left Clarkenwell as
the para cord bit deep into his hand, blood welling up, soaking
through his glove. The polypropylene impregnated line eating deeper
into his hand as Davies weight shifted forwards.

Reflex took over as blood coated his palm, his animal
reflexes overriding everything as his hand snapped open and the line
spiralled away from him the tension suddenly and irrevocably gone.
His eyes widened as he watched it line spin away from him, Davies
weight and momentum dragging him backwards. Hamilton shot his hand
out as he latched onto Clarkenwell who was trying to maintain his
slackening grip on Davies boot, the green coiled line finding its way
into his hand as he held his team mates aloft.

Davies' hands flailed slapping against the floor,
sending small clouds of dust flying up as he searched in panicked
desperation for his knife still buried in the floor.