Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (32 page)

He locked eyes with Anastasia as she settled in on the
opposite side of his desk, her eyes willing him to continue as she
sat there patiently waiting.

'I was detailed to a new unit formed from a selection of
hand picked soldiers, comprising the best and brightest of the armed
forces.

'It was unusual as it didn't fall under the ever
watchful eye of the government.'

Baker paused again, his mind weighing up just what he
should divulge.

'The Royal household had, for quite some time, been
collating and collecting data on situations arising in Europe, and
what had at one point been the British empire, goodness only knew
why.

'It is a fact that despite our pay checks being written
by the current political administration, every soldier swears fealty
to the monarch, be it king or queen.

'Anyway, they, by which I mean the Queen and her
counsel, had seen fit to reform an old sub-division of the British
armed forces to combat what they saw as a growing threat to Britain,
her people, and all mankind.'

He stopped for a moment, gauging Anastasia's reaction to
his words.

'You mean Broadhead?'

Baker nodded confirmation.

'We were formed originally on the cusp of the Boer War,
and were tasked mainly at the time with “Intelligence”
gathering and Assassinations of high value targets.' He lifted his
hands curling his middle and index fingers, simulating the obvious
quotations surrounding the word Intelligence

Anastasia had a very quizzical look slithering its way
across her face.

'It was a response to the call for help from a man known
at the time as Moshoeshoe. He was a tribal leader and very popular
man in the Bosotho nation, an area where he held dominion, although
things with him were not always peaches and cream.

'It kicked off several times between him and the British
government but was quelled in a peaceful reconciliation in...' he
paused, searching for the date. 'I think 1852. The same thing
happened as well with the Boers who were a pain in the arse at the
time for both Moshoeshoe and us.'

He stopped again for a moment gathering his thoughts on
his unit's life.

'In 1854 we pulled out of the area and things began to
kick off again between the Sotho and the Boers, which lead to a joint
appeal to Queen Victoria in 1867, and to the Sotho nation being made
a British Protectorate in 1868. As a result we were sent in to lend a
hand in quelling Boer threats to any British holdings in the area. We
have been operating in the dark corners of the world ever since.'

Anastasia seemed shocked though she hid it well; leaning
forwards she smiled as a question bloomed in her like a flower
leaning towards the sun.

'You said “reformed,” what happened to
dissolve the unit?'

Baker grinned at the probing question.

'Nothing, we just became official again.'

Anastasia's face contorted in confusion, as she weighed
the answer against his impromptu history lesson. Baker chuckled
softly as he watched her puzzled expression.

'We never really were dissipated or disbanded, the unit
has always been there, we were just never officially sanctioned.

'Over the years, there have been hundreds of operatives,
they have been hand picked to suit the situations that have arisen
and then filtered back into the folds of the British army.

'This has been the process since the initial formation,
as it was seen as expeditious for the nature of our work to remain
“Anonymous.”

'This has passed from commander to commander, so that
upon the need of our “Expertise”, the current monarch,
can if they so wish, call us back into being.

'The only people who know about us are the Head of the
British armed forces and The Monarch of the age, who are currently
General Sir David Richards and Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second
respectively.'

Anastasia nodded as he continued, a pale tinge of
agitated boredom plucking at her as Baker launched back into his
monologue.

'As I was saying, we were pulled back together in answer
to a rising biological threat.'

He gave her a pointed look which drew an understanding
nod from the woman before him.

'The operation is still classified, so I can't divulge
more than I already have except that it's safe to say that when you
met me back in 2004 it wasn't my first contact with the virus, and
neither was the situation in the Panjshir Valley.'

Anastasia slumped back in her chair as she looked at the
man before her, Baker smiled as he picked up his now cool cup of
coffee and sipped at it, the bitterness making him cringe ever so
slightly.

'So what did you want anyway, Anna.'

A deep melancholic sigh escaped her as she rubbed at the
bridge of her nose, scrunching her eyes against the migraine still
threatening to break through.

'Subject A. He has broken all recorded data with the
length of time between exposure, infection, and symptomatic change.
It seems that it mutated again as soon as it entered his system.'

The small pager clipped to her lab coat vibrated drawing
her attention, slipping the small black rectangular device from her
pocket she read the scrolling message on the small screen. Spinning
her chair on the spot she called over her shoulder as she made to
leave the room.

'Follow me.'

Baker slipped out from behind his desk, coffee and paper
work forgotten as he sped after the doctor's rapidly diminishing
form.

35

The hermetically sealed door hissed as the air was
slowly purged from its piston hinges, the eighteen inch thick door
swinging open almost silently.

Baker watched as the leading edge passed a foot from his
face, the four inch diameter retaining bars shinning with the flat
glint of dull steel the grease surrounding them glistening like wet
leather as the strip lights above cast their pale light over the
world beneath.

Stepping forwards he watched Anastasia roll past him the
soft shushing ripple of her chair's tyres announcing her approach.

Marcus turned, his ears pricking slightly at the
familiar sound gently assailing them; a broad smile broke through as
he turned and watched her approach, the smile was short lived, it
died on his lips as the broad darkened backlit figure of Lieutenant
Baker approached. His eyes and smile soured as he watched him
following in Anastasia's wake.

A short, sharp squeak echoed through the room as the
heavy rubberised wheels of her chair slid over the ceramic surface of
the tiled floor.

'What is it Marcus?'

His smouldering hate filled gaze alighted on Baker for
only a second. The accusing death filled eyes did not escape Baker's
watchful stare as he locked eyes with the stick thin scientist, a
sardonic, condescending smile twisted Baker's lips as he watched the
scientist try and hold his gaze.

'Well, it's......uh.'

Swallowing, he motioned to the darkened cell at the far
end of the room.

Anastasia spun her chair and rapidly rolled off in that
direction with a slightly jogging Baker following behind.

Slapping her palm against the bulbous power button next
to the reinforced Lexan glass, she gasped, then mashed her hand
against her mouth as he looked upon the carnage in the room.

'Dear god, what the hell happened here.'

Marcus fell in beside them a few seconds later.

'It happened only twenty minutes ago, staff shut the
lights off, they couldn't stand the sight of it any more'

Baker spun and stared at the spineless scientist.

'Doesn't answer my damned question.'

Marcus all but sneered at Baker then seemed to think
better of it, tugging the collar away from his throat he gulped
slightly.

'He, uh, he did it himself'

Baker's eyes widened sharply.

'He what?'

The scientist shrank away slightly at the sight towering
before him.

'He did it himself, we couldn't stop him for fear of him
infecting one of us, he simply chewed through his own flesh, and we
are beyond any idea as to why he would'

Anastasia studied the scene before her, the flesh hung
from subjects A's limbs in ragged clumps, bone and ligaments showing
through starkly against the greying bloodless lumps surrounding them.

A weak pleading groan gurgled up from his throat as his
head pivoted, searching for something to lock onto.

'Did you feed him?'

Marcus looked away shamefaced, Anastasia's eyes widened
at the subconscious admission of guilt.

She opened her mouth to scream at him but a soft
movement drew her attention, Baker's understanding gaze took hers for
a fleeting moment as he gently shook his head.

'We can't leave him like this, he was a willing
participant, he at least deserves the courtesy of a swift end'

Her wide pleading eyes locked with Baker's as he watched
the pitiful creature try and move. Nodding Baker tapped a four digit
code into the panel beside the door and stepped in his fingers
dancing over the catch on his holster as he began to draw his pistol.
Thumbing back the hammer he lifted the nine millimetre slowly, a
prayer finding its way to his lips, one that he hadn't even thought
of since the days of his youth spent in the Carmarthen boy's choir.
The deep, heavy scent of the burning incense filling his nose as the
intoned preachings of Father Matthews danced through his head.

As he locked his eyes with the twisted mangled creature
on the floor a stillness filled him, his lips moving, disembodied
words leaving him.

'Requiesce in pace.'

His finger curled round the trigger, twelve pounds of
force sent the small curved piece of steel back against the trigger
guard as the gun bucked slightly in his hand.

The sound of the shot reverberated through the sound
proofed room, Baker's ears thrumming as the bullet left the muzzle.

He watched as a mashed mix of brittle flaked bone and
pulped grey matter scattered over the surface of the floor mingling
with the congealed mass of faecal matter.

Closing his eyes, Baker breathed sharply through his
nose, the sight repulsed him slightly as he stared at the corpse at
his feet.

Sliding the pistol into its holster, Baker turned, and
walked from the room, ignoring the questioning, yet thankful gaze of
Anastasia as he strode past. Marcus stood there rooted to the spot as
Baker advanced towards him, the stick thin, bean pole of a scientist
didn't know what to make of the six foot tall power house until it
was all too late.

Marcus left the floor as Baker's fist connected with his
lower jaw, his eyes spun in his head as he sailed through the air.
The muffled thumping crunch made everyone flinch as he crashed into
the hard merciless concrete backed tiles at the foot of the steel
gantry.

Baker made to advance upon the quailing form, his blood
boiling in his veins, and yet he didn't. The seething pillar of rage,
stopped by a soft, yet strangely firm, grip locked onto his upper
forearm, pulling him back.

Turning, he glanced back, his eyes lowering as he
latched onto the source of his immobility, the slim digits curled
around his arm, their pressure causing the fabric of his jacket to
ripple as they slowly tightened. Nodding his confirmation to the
unasked question, she let go. His footsteps echoed off the sheer
concrete walls as he walked away, grating against them as they
watched him leave, two dozen sets of eyes locked on his rapidly
shrinking silhouette.

Marcus' prostrate form started to stir as the vague
glimmers of consciousness began to force their way through the haze
of pain and shock induced fear. Blood pooled at the base of his chin,
the congealing mess running over the bottom of his chin and down his
neck in thick strings, staining the collar of his lab coat as the
heavy cotton weave soaked it up like a sponge. The claret stain ever
expanding through the fibrous weave as more and more made the
undaunted journey across his sickly pale skin.

His feet slid and slipped as he struggled to rise,
Anastasia watched as the pale stick thin creature before her tried to
right itself, disgust rising high into her gullet as she watched him
begin to slowly gain traction on the smooth polished floor.

Pushing her chair forwards she shifted her course by
millimetres sending the chairs reinforced wheel rolling across his
splayed fingers. The high pitched girlish scream that issued forth
from the man made her smile as she pushed on the left side of her
chair rising and falling as it rode across his knuckles crushing them
into the uncaring floor beneath the pale, torn flesh.

****

The street door thumped home as Baker dropped his kit
bag underneath the small table in the hallway. Running his hand over
his hairless head, he sighed as he tossed his beret onto the table,
and walked slowly towards the kitchen. His legs felt like lead as he
struggled to force life into them, his booted feet thumping against
the exposed wood treads of the stair case as he made his way upwards,
his body aching, yearned for the sweet blessed comfort of a hot bath
and the wanton embrace of his bed.