Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (7 page)

The orange tinged pools seemed to disappear into the
utilitarian walls of the corridor, as if the building itself was
consuming what light and life touched its coarse concrete shell. The
darkness was total; nothing could penetrate the ink black wall before
them, as the small band of men made their way deeper into the dark
inner sanctum.

'I don't like this, Chief.'

Bolton's hushed tones rang in Pottergate's ear as he
walked slowly onwards. 'Neither do I; if we don't make contact with
the containment teams soon, we are aborting the mission and calling
in the Mig's on station in Rogachevo.'

Bolton nodded sharply, walking on
several feet before he realised that the motion was pointless. 'Roger
that.' Bolton's reply was undercut by the quavering fear that edged
his tones, a singular thought running through his mind as he spoke.
Although he knew better than to vocalise it, still he couldn't help
thinking it all the same.
'I
just hope we're still alive to make that call.'

Glancing around him, he tried to discern the state of
his surroundings as he carried on moving forward. Baker's breathing
rasped in his ears as he drew breath deep into his lungs through the
filters of his gas mask. The high impact blast resistant lenses of
his apparatus turning the whole corridor into two bisected portholes
of darkness while the thick rubberised outer skin blocked out his
peripheral vision completely.

His torch cut through the dark in front of him like a
knife, the blackness dancing away from his torch beam as the hot
white light illuminated all it touched. Sweeping left, he watched as
something glinted softly under the lights beam. Moving forward
slightly, he played the beam back across in front of him searching
for the source of the reflection. 'Shit, Chief, I found one of the
containment teams.'

Their bright yellow hazard suits where torn to shreds
stained a dirty yellow brown by the their own blood. The stench of
decaying flesh was palpable even from several feet and made it all
too clear just how long the men had been laying there. Baker played
his torch beam over the scene before him, his gaze impassive as he
looked upon the butchered remains of the six men. 'Survivors?'

Baker shook his head instinctively as he replied, 'Nope,
not here anyway.' Crouching low, Baker listened to Pottergate's
stifled curses as he studied their remains before him.

'Something is different here, boss. Come take a
butchers.'

Fadei looked at Pottergate, a puzzled expression
adorning his features. 'He means I should go and take a look.' The
explanation did little to remove the look of sever puzzlement as
Pottergate walked away, appearing at Baker's side moments later.
Kneeling beside his subordinate, he gazed at the carnage before them.
'Calculated.'

Baker glanced at his commander
nodding the gas mask rubbing against his skin as it shifted slightly.
'That's what I thought too; they look almost surgically precise as if
these guys were sliced apart. The only thing I can even fathom being
this quick and precise is a
Katana
or a scalpel, but look at the edges of the wounds.' Baker motioned
with the tip of his combat knife. Using it as a pointer, he traced it
down the edges of the gaping wound in one man's chest. 'The edges
aren't clean, they're jagged and misshapen. That tells me that they
were torn open, like if you were pulling open a packet or something
and the seam didn't tear properly, but I don't know. At the same time
its too precise; it doesn't make sense.'

Pottergate's brow furrowed as he studied the corpse
before him. 'Well, the only other thing I can think of being able to
do the quick precise cuts and leave that sort of edge as well is a
saw blade.' Baker nodded, his eyes telling more than words could as
he looked back at the dry, shrunken rotting and torn flesh before
him. Pottergate stood and stepped back slightly as he scratched at
the stubble on his neck. 'There isn't much we can gain from staring
at this mess, let's move on and hope we find someone intact enough to
provide us with an answer.'

Baker looked at his commander quizzically.

'To what chief.'

Pottergate turned to face Baker as he stood.

'To what the bloody hell is going on in this place.'

7

Moving forwards the team came to a crossroads in the
corridor, both sides branching into their own black soulless void.
Shaking his head Pottergate studied both options before he made the
only choice he had. 'Fadei, you're with me and Baker, the rest of you
take the left hand tunnel, radio in every three minutes. If you
don't, we'll come and find you. I want to know everything you come
across. Even if it doesn't hold any importance whatsoever I want to
know about it; understood?'

All three men nodded before turning and disappearing
into the black, all consuming maw of the corridor. Pottergate and
Baker watched the three men vanish into the blackness a deep sense of
dread filling both men as the three soldiers were slowly swallowed
whole.

'We have to move now; the main centre of the facility is
down this corridor.'

Baker turned and looked at Fadei, 'Shut the hell up
we'll go when we're good and ready.'

Fadei opened his mouth to reply but as he did, something
moved behind him. A soft, shimmering glint passing across Baker's
lenses was his only warning before a two foot long sliver of steel
whistled past his head, concrete showering over him as it sunk into
the wall inches from the side of his mask covered head. Pottergate
spun firing into the blackness. His rifle chattered as he fired burst
after burst into the wall of dark before him. Fadei dropped to one
knee, blood trickling down his neck, the warm liquid seeping into the
tight rubberised seal of his suit. Ignoring the sharp bolts of pain
that lanced through his torn skin, he brought his AS VAL to bear and
fired off half his magazine in six short bursts.

Objects flew from the darkness, clattering across the
walls and sinking into the grey concrete as they skittered over the
smooth skin of the walls. A low growl arose out of the darkness,
rolling over the three men as they continued to fire blindly into the
dark. A pair of yellow orbs seemed to float before them, moving over
the contours of the walls, growing ever brighter, looming larger in
their vision the closer they crept. Then as if swallowed by something
hiding within the dark they vanished. Silence fell like a coffin lid
slamming shut on the dead, crushing the three men into the floor
under its sudden weight.

'What the fuck was that all about?'

Fadei said nothing as he stood and pulled the metal
object free from its confines, turning the piece of cold hardened
steel over in his hands as he gazed at it.

'This is an industrial cutting disk. My grandfather used
similar when making parts for tanks in 1938. It would take a lot to
make it do this, they are not very light.' Baker stepped closer to
the hulking Russian, holding his hands out for the slab-like piece of
steel.

Fadei held it out carefully; waiting until he was sure
Baker had hold of it before letting go. He watched as its weight made
the man before him stagger. 'I told you; they were not light.' His
words undercut but the loud clang issuing from the floor as the disk
pulled itself free of Bakers grip.

'Boss, what do you make of this?' Bakers words hung in
the air, unheeded and unanswered. 'Chief, an answer would be nice.'
Again silence ensued as his words fell unanswered. Turning, he cast
his torch beam around them looking for Pottergate.

As he swept his beam through the corridor, he found
nothing but glinting metal and the cold heavy black of the lightless
corridor. 'Damn it, Kingsley, this is Baker you seen the chief?'
Static crackled for a second before Kingsley replied.

'No Cherry, ain't seen hide nor hair of him; thought he
was with you.'

A cold chill washed over Baker as images of Dimi flashed
through his mind. Pushing them aside he marshalled his thoughts and
ran through a plan before replying.

'No, he ain't here. We had an unknown contact and he up
and vanished. Watch your backs okay. Full three-sixty watch on and
move careful all right? I'll try and find him; he's probably gotten
turned around in the dark and lost coms.'

Again static danced in his ears before Kingsley replied.
'Roger that, check back in three.'

Baker severed the connection as he turned his attention
back to the task at hand. Glancing towards Fadei, he pushed the sense
of dread that had been slowly bubbling up back down into the pit of
his stomach and spoke. 'Well, it looks like it's just you and me.'
Fadei nodded. 'It's Sarajevo all over again.' Baker snorted as he
switched out the magazine in his weapon, then shouldering his rifle,
he plunged forward without another word.

Four minutes; four minutes was all it took for them to
find him. The cold chill seeped through them both as they gazed upon
the image before them. Pottergate hung like a butterfly on a pin,
shell casings littering the floor, glinting under the slowly swing
beam of his torch as it hung from his outstretched arm.

'Why?' Fadei asked, his low whispering voice was the
first to break the silence, a small gold cross clutched tightly in
his hand as he stared the prostrate form before him.

'It's a message.' Baker murmured as his eyes danced from
one point to the next as he looked upon Pottergate's semi mutilated
form.

'The insurgents did similar things to
any S.A.S bloke they got their mitts on in Iraq. This is a message to
us, they own this place and
we
are the invaders. This, Baker motioned to his commander's ripped and
bloodied form. 'Is what awaits all who oppose their ownership.'

Pottergate hung limply his arms spread out pinned in
place by thick iron re-bars. The solid lumps of iron stuck through
him like a pencil through paper.

Blood pooled amongst the brass casings at what remained
of his feet, his uniform hung in tatters; his body or what remained
was shredded, the flesh peeled back from his bones like skin off a
potato. The steaming coils of his entrails spread out around him in a
twisted homage to a halo.

They hung like vines from the
ceiling, the thick rubbery lengths of intestine looped around the
shattered pendant lights. Limply swinging through the still air like
party streamers; blood sliding along their rippled lengths to drip
free; falling in swirling orbs into the pool below, the whole scene
punctuated by the soft limping drip of blood, the resounding wet echo
the only constant in the oversized tomb.

Stepping forward through the brass strewn mire of blood,
Baker reached up and gently began to work lose the iron rods, the
echoing clang rolling through the room as one by one they hit the
floor. Baker glanced up into Pottergate's face, his cooling bronzed
skin already beginning to tinge blue as the last vestiges of oxygen
left the lifeless shell of a body. 'Sorry sir,' Baker muttered as he
locked gazes with the cold dead eyes of the man he had called his
friend.

Fadei watched on as Baker gently lowered Pottergate's
corpse to the floor falling to one knee as he gently lay Pottergate
to rest on the cold, uncaring concrete. He continued to watch,
stunned, as Baker began to rifle through the man's pockets, stepping
forwards he made to stop him. 'Don't say a word Fadei; I'm only doing
as he asked.'

Fadei's forward progression stopped dead, consternation
and surprise rising in equal measure. 'How can you be doing as he
asked? He is dead!'

Baker laughed a short, sharp, mirthless bark. 'He said,
that in the event of his death I was to deliver an envelope to his
wife in Guernsey. Despite being his ex-wife, she is his only living
relative and as you so kindly pointed out, he is dead. So in short I
am doing what he asked of me.'

Fadei nodded. 'Very well, but make sure to take his
ammunition as well; you know he no longer needs it.'

Baker was silent for a moment before he stood, slipping
a red tinged white envelope into the map pocket of his trousers.

'What do I look like an idiot?'

Fadei glanced at Baker, as he replied.

'Do you want me to answer that?'

8

Bolton moved forwards past Kingsley quickly, dropping to
one knee as he moved into position and waited for the others to catch
up. He jumped slightly as his ear bead crackled; listening to the
voice coming through his blood ran cold. 'King, did you just hear
that?'

Kingsley's deep dulcet tones rumbled through Bolton's
ears. 'Yeah, I did'

Rawlings stood silent as he gazed through the darkness,
a single loan tear rolling down his face behind his gas mask. In his
ten years as a soldier, it was the one time he was glad to be wearing
it. 'The chief's dead.'

Bolton shook his head at Kingsley's reply. 'How though,
the chief was fucking bullet proof.' Kingsley listened to the chatter
over his radio before replying.

'Wasn't a bullet that killed him, it was,' Kingsley
paused as he struggled to take in just what was being said, 'was
something else.'