Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (6 page)

'Okay wake up, pack up and stack up; we've got a job to
do gentlemen, and that job starts now.'

Pottergate's voice boomed through the now eerily silent
plane, the rolling echo was cut through as the semi rhythmic tapping
of feet on metal echoed up from the front of the plane.

Heads turned as one, eyes fixing on the figure making
his way towards them. His feet rung against the bare metal hull of
the plane as he made his way towards the small group of soldiers, his
wide muscular frame seemingly gaining in mass the closer he drew to
them.

A wide grin broke across his features as he neared
Baker, the dark thatch of his beard parting like the red sea to
reveal a set of tobacco stained teeth.

'Derek Baker, you weak piece of English shit; how are
you, my friend?'

His thick east Russian accent twisted the words slightly
as he spoke, his spade like hand shooting forwards and grasping
Derek's in a tight, almost bone shattering grip.

'Fadei, you turnip munching piss head, you know I'm
Welsh.'

Baker smiled tightly as he carried on.

'Anyway how are you? Pottergate said you'd be helping
out with transport not flying this shit heap. Why didn't you say
something sooner.'

Fadei's grin remained strong as he draped one heavy arm
across Bakers shoulders.

'Because, you simpleton, I was flying the damned thing.
Now how about we go and get drunk.'

Baker laughed out loud for what was to him the first
time in a very long period, laughter had been a rare commodity for
the unit and was a welcome relief to them all.

Their laughter died off slowly as Baker glanced at the
slightly confused faces of the men around him.

'Boys, this is my Russian counterpart Fadei Bogatir. He
is leader of Unit One in our Russian brother, the rather crudely
named Red Directorate.'

Fadei thumped Baker on the back sending him staggering
slightly from the force.

'Always taking the piss, hey, little man? Need I remind
you that we are helping you in the clear up of this mess?'

Baker whirled on the balls of his feet the mirth and
humour falling from his face.

'Don't give me that bullshit,
Bogatir. You know that this is your piss-ass country's fucking fault.
The infection spread on
your
container ship, in
your
port and has landed in
my
country's lap thanks to that shit poor excuse you have for a security
force. So don't come and piss in my coffee with a bullshit story
about you helping us.'

Bolton shook his head slightly as he watched the
exchange between the two men. Fadei's bulk towered over Baker who,
although six foot three in height, was still several inches shorter
than the former GRU agent. Moving to one side, he watched as Fadei
threw a right hook at Bakers face, the connecting smack sending the
fifteen stone soldier off his feet and into the side of the plane. A
soft squeaking noise rolled through the plane as he slid down the
aluminium siding of the aircraft.

Pushing himself from the seat he had landed in, Baker
charged like a bull. Roaring with anger, he crashed into the side of
the gargantuan Russian lifting him off the floor and sending him head
first through the wind shield of the Land Rover tied down to the
floor of the plane.

The glass exploded, sending small, tinkling crystal like
squares of glass cascading over the floor. A loud, cacophonous boom
echoed around the aircraft. All heads pivoted towards the source of
the noise.

'That is quite enough gentlemen, we have a job to do so
lets get on and do it; and please for the love of God, behave like
grown men not squabbling children.'

Pottergate's tone left little room for argument and
neither did the pistol he had clasped in his hand, which was
currently aimed at Fadei's head.

'And if you ever lay a hand on one of my men again, I
will personally cut it off and make you watch as I force feed it to
your mother; am I clear?'

The massive man mountain nodded as he looked into the
unwavering cerulean blue eyes that held his gaze.

'Good, now why don't we all get along and move out? We
have a job to do and it doesn't include trying to beat one another to
death.'

Baker shot a half-hearted salute at his commander before
barging past Bogatir and moving off down the gangway that had been
lowered by Rawlings. His boots thumped against the reinforced ramp as
he strode out into the harsh snow blown wind of the coastal air base,
Fadei was fast on his heels, his face a mask of barely suppressed
anger as he wiped away the blood running from his broken nose,
smearing the red gooey liquid across his bearded cheek.

A stream of unintelligible Russian spewed forth from the
Russian specialist, as he stomped past Baker. A gentle hand alighted
on Baker's shoulder stopping him dead.

Turning slowly on his heel, he came face to face with
his commanding officer, who with a nod of his head indicated for
Baker to step back with him.

'Derek, we found some evidence of what happened to the
team in Panjshir.'

Baker's eyes widened, glowing with anticipation. Sitting
himself down in one of the seats in the hold, he waited for
Pottergate to continue.

'When the AC130 levelled the village we found a
honeycomb of tunnels beneath the streets. It seems as if they had at
some point excavated the streets and under most of the dwellings to
enable them to move stores, weapons and men from one point, to the
next without discovery; probably as a way to keep the garrison
numbers undiscovered.'

Baker's form slumped in the chair; his hands slowly
drifted upwards settling against his face as he rubbed the tiredness
from his mind. Grinding the balls of his hands against his eyes as if
he could possibly make them feel any better than they did at that
second.

'So basically we had no chance in hell of spotting them
before they spotted us.'

Pottergate shook his head, as he mulled over the words
he was contemplating.

'No, none.'

Derek's world seemed to sink further into the abyss he
was so tenuously balanced over, the thin line of his sanity further
stretching as his grip ever so slowly weakened, pushing him closer to
the final fall he knew in his soul he would soon reach.

'Fine, it doesn't change a thing. It just means that
they had us over a barrel and my boys died over some intelligence
fuck up.'

Pottergate said nothing as he studied his subordinate.
Nodding, he turned and walked away motioning for Baker to follow on.
Standing, Baker slowly rolled his shoulders before crouching and
picking up his rifle from beside the seat. Straightening up he
squared himself and slowly began the march into the cold crisp air
that awaited him.

6

Russia

The
Omega site

Exact
Location Unknown

'Jesus this place smells like a rotting wet dog,'
Rawlings stifled the impulse to wretch as Kingsley spoke. 'You would
know Kingsley, the only dumb blonde in your life is your damned dog,
bloody thing's more territorial than you are.'

Kingsley smirked.

'Trust me Cherry my girl ain't dumb, and she's the best
friend on four legs any one could ever want, so on that note; go do
one.'

Baker chuckled and walked past his squad mate as
Kingsley turned in Fadei's direction.

'Oi, Sputnik, what the fuck you boys been cooking here?'

Fadei turned and glared at the black Englishman before
him, a malicious smile playing across his features as he stared at
the impassive brown eyes before him.

'You my Negro friend. We cooked you and your kind.'

Kingsley's eyes widened a fraction as he stared at the
pale watery green eyes of the Russian before him.

'What, did you just say?'

Kingsley felt a warning hand grip his shoulder as he
stepped forwards as Fadei's fingers flexed in the thick leather
gloves he wore.

'I said, you deaf nigger, that we boiled your black
skinned, spear chucking brothers down and fed their bones to our dogs
before we sold the savage laden broth off to the villages east of
here.'

The Russian never saw the fist that layed him low. All
he saw were the rage soaked eyes of a man bearing down on him and the
seventeen inch long blade that descended towards his face.

'Corporal Solomon Kingsley, hold fast and sheath that
weapon now!'

Kingsley's blade stopped scant millimetres from Fadei's
eye. Chest heaving and eyes aflame, Kingsley, through sheer force of
will made himself slowly retract the blackened blade from its course
and slide it home into the sheath on his hip. Baker strode across the
snow and stood next to his second in command as he gazed impassively
down at the prostrate form below him. Fadei's eyes swam with an
unreadable conglomerate of emotions but despite this, all Baker saw
was a stone cold mask of ridged indifference.

'You are one lucky mother fucker, very, very lucky. If
you ever talk to my men like that again, it won't be your hand you
lose; it will be your god-damned head. Now get the fuck up and act
like a damned soldier, we have a job to do.'

Fadei lay on the floor as he listened to the retreating
foot falls of the five men their feet crunching through the snow. It
was several seconds before he slowly began to pick himself up from
the floor. Snow fell in clumps from his battle dress as he righted
himself, a gaze of pure unadulterated hatred bore into the back of
Kingsley's head as he began a meaningful trek towards the vehicles
parked beside the runway.

Turning, Kingsley glanced over his
shoulder locking eyes with the man behind him, an unspoken challenge
passing between the two men. Their silence said more than any amount
of carefully crafted words ever could. When the time came, things
would be settled and both men knew only one of them would walk away
from it, but until then, they would do their utmost to ensure both of
them survived.

****

The vehicles squealed to a halt, slush filled mud
spraying in a soft arc from the wheels as they bit into the ice laden
soil that served as an access road.

'No wonder we never found this place.
It's in the middle of nowhere, and even that is sat in the middle of
fucking nowhere. You would need a map to the map this place was on,
and that's
if
you ever wanted to find it!'

Baker laughed, as Rawlings finished his little diatribe.

'That ain't the reason we never bothered with this
place. It's the fact that the Russians thought it was a secret and we
allowed them to think that.'

Fadei stoically ignored the comment as he levered his
bulky form from the Jeep. Kingsley hopped out from the back of the
Jeep, his boots thumping into the ice crusted soil. He gazed around
him and sniffed, the salt tang stinging his nostrils slightly as he
smirked.

'I thought you said this place was a commerce port. This
is a damned military base, it's blatantly obvious.'

Fadei shot Kingsley an undisguised glare of hatred as
Baker chuckled.

'Like I said, we knew it was here, we
just didn't know
what
“
it”
was. We could never get a tasked satellite in place soon enough to
break through the snow and cloud cover that blankets this place.'

Fadei snorted as he barged past Baker.

'Why do you think we picked it?'

'So what are we looking at on the inside? Also, I just
thought I would raise a small point, but where are the containment
teams? Your boss told us that we should expect them to be here.'

Fadei glanced around himself as they strode through the
steel security gate, Bakers question hanging on his earlobe like a
Diamanté pendant ear ring. Fadei pulled his weapon from off
his back, setting the stock into the crook of his shoulder as the
motorised gate squeaking on the frozen ball bearings was softly
winched aside.

'That, my friend, is a very good question.'

Baker cocked an eyebrow at Fadei's choice of words, for
at that precise moment they were anything but friends. His rifle came
to his shoulder as he slowly began to sense the deep blanket of
malice that seemed to seep from the very bowels of the facility.

****

The salt brine tang clung to their throats as they
breathed in, the S-10 gas masks they wore, doing little to filter out
the pervading scent of the ocean as they quietly entered the
building.

Their barrel mounted torches cut through the darkness,
the bare, grey concrete walls sucking in the bright white light like
a sponge drinking in the light as the darkness closed around them.