Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (29 page)

'Although, from what I've heard, some of them down
there, are just as bad, if not worse than us.'

Davies was once more silent as he contemplated the
possibilities.

'Women in combat.' He muttered to himself, closing his
eyes he sighed.

'The Russians do it, the Spanish do it, the Americans,
and God knows who else, so why not us?'

Baker watched as Davies turned and walked away, a tired
shake of his head, all the answer Baker required. He knew Davies
would accept the changes, all they needed now was to know if the
girls had what it took to face the threat head on. They had already
proven they had what it took to make the selection program; all they
had to do was prove they had the gall to face the Infected in the
field.

Baker smiled to himself as he mulled over the situation.

This was going to get interesting, and he for one, was
looking forward to what was coming. He caught up to Davies, a light
hand on the man's shoulder stopping him in his tracks, he let the
grin fade, his features darkening to a lighter shade of grey as he
spoke.

'You and the boys are on a week's leave effective
immediately, I'm pulling in one of the training teams to take my
place on team one and rotating them in, your lot have been on the
razor's edge for the past nine months, you need a break.'

Davies opened his mouth to protest just as Baker raised
his hand motioning for Davies to listen.

'It's not an order from me, but the unit psychologist.
He's been getting reports from other teams, some of them pretty
severe and doesn't want to run the risk of any problems arising on
our end. So far, they have only been from the clean up teams and
sweeper units.

'Nothing has shown up on our end yet, but still, as he
has said, and I have to agree.' your lot have been under extreme
stress for too long. So shut up, pack up and take a fucking holiday
for Christ sakes, go get drunk and laid. It will do you some good.'

Davies shook his head, resigned to the fact that he was
being forced to take a break, Baker grinned at him as he laid his
hand on Davies' shoulder.

'Good lad.'

Pressing a fifty pound note into Davies' hand he
chuckled. 'Have a round on me. Now go on, sod off before something
happens to ruin both our days, wouldn't want the good doctor left
waiting would we.' Davies stopped mid step a look of utter shock
creeping across his features as Baker laughed. 'John you should know
by now that nothing can be kept secret in a place like this, gossip
travels faster than the common cold in barracks.' Davies smiled, a
soft chuckle finding its way to his lips as he turned and walked away
once again.

32

The anticipation ran through them like water through a
sieve. The ninety-two men and eighteen women stood assembled on the
drill square. The officer stood before them back straight and rigid
as he stared down his nose at the assembled rows of prospective
recruits.

'So.'

His nasal voice grating on their already frayed nerves
was like a saw over steel mesh.

'I am to assume that all of you wish to join this
illustrious unit, this denizen of warriors, this cornucopia of elite
battle hardened gods of war.'

Baker sighed as he walked across the square unnoticed by
anyone except the nasal-toned officer on the dais. Several thoughts
vied for precedence in Baker's mind as he ran through how many times
this particular piece of rhetoric had been trundled out to
prospective recruits.

The man was gesturing wildly now, his fervour in full
flame as he brayed to the heavens, spittle flying forth as he
practically screamed out his devotion to the force these people
wanted in to. As suddenly as he began, he stopped; a heavy muscular
hand clamping onto his shoulder, his words cut off mid-flow like a
tap shut off at the source.

'Ahh, Mr Baker how nice of you to grace us with your
presence.'

Baker smiled tightly, manoeuvring the man before him so
he was pushed off centre stage.

'Mr Colinson, you can be a right tit at times, you know
that.'

A soft ripple of dampened laughter rolled through the
crowd before them, grinning like a wolf, Colinson turned to them all
and bowed low.

'Thank you for your applause, I will be here all week.'

The laughter redoubled as Baker pinched the bridge of
his nose. A deep sigh echoed up from within.

'Why was I ever paired with you?' Baker muttered,
keeping the pitch low enough to avoid it being picked by the
microphone in front of him.

'Because Baker. They wanted someone here who could
counter balance the seriousness you impose. Yes, I am an officer,
tactician, and highly trained killer but I am also a skilled
psychologist, and things like this help the recruits to find levity
after the stress of training, and sets their minds to a point where
they can fully process everything that has happened.

'I wasn't here when Temple were
deployed; if I had been maybe things could have gone differently.'

Baker shot a concealed warning glare at Colinson,
unnoticed by the throng of eager soldiers, it was more than noticed
by Colinson who simply smiled in return and nodded. Turning back to
those before him, he bowed once more, rising to his full height he
grinned as he spoke.

'Now I leave you in the capable hands of Mr Baker here,
he is a little grumpy at the moment, so I suggest listening.'

Turning on his heel, Colinson made a swift retreat, his
path paved by the echoing chuckles and stifled laughter of the one
hundred and ten men and women he left in his wake.

****

Baker stood, clipboard in hand, a small grin washed
across his features as he was assaulted by a minuscule sense of deja
vu.

'Okay, so you lot made it this far, congratulations.'
Several of the crowd in front smiled at the supposed praise.

'Still don't mean shit, you faced the Dead Box; big
deal, you did the tour in hell, woopady fucking doo, you still
haven't proven to me that you deserve to be here. So, as a result of
this, we are mixing things up a bit this time round.

'You're going to be split into teams of eleven and sent
out on probationary missions, when I call you out, file off and
collect your gear.'

Nine minutes later, Baker was standing in front of ten
teams of slightly perplexed but eager looking recruits.

'Team One, step forwards.'

The gaggle of soldiers moved as one, crisply marching up
in file.

'Ghana.' He barked by a way of a gruff statement of
their destination.

'We, by which I mean you, are being tasked by the
current administration to lend a helping hand to their military
forces, you will be tasked with aiding with the control and
suppression of the rising tide of Infected that have been seen in
their general populace of late.

'Thus far they have done a fairly admirable job of
keeping it wrapped up, but their president, whose name for the life
of me I can't pronounce, has formally begged our assistance.

'So on that note, Shaw here are the orders.'

He handed the seven-inch thick manilla folder to Rufus
Shaw, the twenty-six year old Grenadier guardsman nodded as his hand
closed around the bulging file. He locked eyes with Baker as a small
smile teased the edges of his mouth, the sudden realisation of what
he was being tasked with hit home as he struggled to suppress the
grin that vied for freedom.

An unspoken confirmation filtered through his mind as he
tucked the folder under his arm.

'Waited too long to prove I can do this.'

Nodding, he stepped back a single
pace and saluted crisply, pleased to have it returned
unconditionally.

'Now go and get it done although you will be supported
by Teams Three and Eight, seeing as you have worked with their cell
leaders before, and its too big of an area to task to one team.'

Baker waited until the three units had filed off to
carry on.

'Right, Team Two, you're heading to Dover and Calais, to
support the UK border force. We have been getting increased reports
from our French allies, and the Border teams, of Infected Illegals
trying to, and in some cases gaining, entry to these fair shores.

'You're going in and making things a
bit more “pro active”. We have been given free reign by
the government to enact any safeguards we deem necessary, and believe
me this is one of them, you're to link up with a mister Robert
Harding, he is in charge of the Dover to Calais link.'

He handed over the sheaf of papers to the acting head of
Team Two. Watching the man's reaction, Baker felt a slight pang when
he saw the trembling in the man's hands and the look of frightened
frailty haunting his already world weary eyes.

“
He ain't going to last, Good
thing I gave them a soft target.” Baker thought to himself as
he watched the team move off. Shaking his head slightly Baker looked
at the next folder.

'Right, Teams, Four, Five, Six, and Nine, you're going
into Libya under joint command of Corporal Patterson, and SAU Team
One second commander Sharp, he will be in overall command of the
mission, with Corporal Patterson as his Second.'

Baker saw the look of dejection pass over Patterson's
face as he saw his one chance at really proving himself fly past him.
Deciding then and there to settle the matter and boost Patterson's
now flagging morale and standing in the team, he spoke up on the
issue.

'Patterson, so you know, it is not because we deem you
unfit for the task of commanding the large unit, it is down to the
sensitive nature of the strike zone. Libya is already in turmoil with
Gadafi's reign being overthrown by the NTC or National Transitional
Council, and the National Libyan Army or the Free Libyan Army; they
operate under both names and seem to jump between the two with
annoying regularity.

'It is common knowledge that they
have effectively seized control from him, but they are still warring
with his remaining military forces across the state; so we are
sending you in with Sharp as the team C.O, to ensure the NLA/FLA take
you seriously as he has experience in that particular region. That,
is the only reason.'

The twenty-four year old Corporal seemed mollified by
the statement; although Baker could tell it still stung to know he
was being overshadowed. Nodding, Patterson took the proffered folder
and turned smartly on his heel, the rest of the teams falling in
behind him as he marched away.

Baker absently scratched the back of his neck as he
scanned the clipboard in his hand. Sniffing momentarily; he flipped
the page over and scanned it quickly, taking in every detail possible
before looking back up at the twenty-two remaining men.

'Right, looks like we have trouble in Jersey and the
Isle of Wight, Team Ten you take Jersey, Seven you get the Isle of
Wight.

No specifics are known and the police on site have been
trying to contain it themselves, and from what we can tell have
managed to stall it for now. So get going and get it done.'

The men filed off, Baker turned and walked away after he
distributed the two remaining folders to the team leaders, the soft
tapping of booted feet echoed behind him, drawing his attention from
the thoughts plaguing his mind.

Roberts skidded to a halt beside Baker, leaning on his
knees slightly as he dragged in a deep juddering breath. Pointing
back the way he had just sprinted, he began to speak. 'Big bust up
between Mariani and Colins, they're tearing each other to ribbons,
Colins made a sly remark about the IRG and the IRA or some bollocks,
you know how he can get. All of a sudden Mariani is up and Colins
flew across the room, they've been going at it for about three
minutes now.'

Breathlessly, Roberts let his head hang as he tried to
stabilise his breathing. Watching Baker's quickly disappearing form
he shook his head, smirking wryly as he took off jogging after the
fading visage of his commander.

'I have really gotta quit smoking.'

33

Broadhead

Biological
Studies Division

Lab
One

Anastasia sat in her chair staring out the window of her
test lab, the memories of her date with Davies flitting through her
head. The floor to ceiling reinforced glass wall spanned the width of
the building, she sighed as she reached down and spun her chair to
the right, turning through one hundred and eighty degrees and
retreating back into her laboratories inner sanctum.

Several pieces of equipment whirred and spun as she
passed, vials of blood floating in an alkali base, spun rapidly in
the FALC F205, as they were slowly separated out into workable parts.
She sat watching the vials revolve, letting her eyes drift out of
focus slightly as her mind slowly calmed the storm within. Shaking
herself out of the fugue, she moved on, picking up a small glass
slide as she approached her personal workstation.