Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (5 page)

Their cold lifeless hand clasped tightly round his ankle
as he aimed his rifle into what remained of the poor soul's face.
Pulling the trigger, Baker watched as its face burst in a spray of
crimson gore that spattered the wall and floor behind them. Wrenching
his foot free, Baker rolled over and pushed himself upwards. Running
up the staircase once more, he ignored the growing pain in his lower
back and the ominous crackling click of what he didn't doubt was
cracked cartilage in his knee.

The pain was pushing him to his limits as he continued
upwards, the growing throb in his knee and lower leg akin to a
thousand red hot needles being slowly pushed into his tender flesh.
Grinding his teeth together, he felt one chip under the pressure as
he pushed onwards, heading further up the staircase, he didn't bother
to ruminate on what lay ahead.

****

Jenkins snapped his head to the left as the slapping of
bare feet drew his attention. Dragging his rifle to the left, he
managed a few poorly aimed shots before he found himself tumbling
backwards as the soft, malleable, flesh coated slab of anger slammed
into him and smashed his stunned form into the unyielding concrete
wall. His breath left him just as quickly as any semblance of his
training with the sudden jolt, his lungs paled under the sudden
impact.

Spittle hung from his chin as he struggled to breathe;
his juddering strangled gasps lost in the tumult of rage filled
screams issuing forth from the thing railing against him. The form
flailed against him as it attempted to rend him limb from limb.
Driving his fist down into the base of its neck, Jenkins sent its
stunned form face first into the floor and took off running blindly
as his eyes welled up, his breath struggling to enter his still
shocked lungs. Stumbling and groping blindly, he ran for all he was
worth, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and
his assailant. He fled deeper into the clear, welcoming arms of the
corridor heading in as straight a line as he could manage.

Then his world inverted. His eyes widened as his brain
registered that he was falling, his body tumbling forwards into the
non-existent arms of the hot, dry noon day air. The first Jenkins
knew of his fall was also the last as he attempted to scream.

Opening his mouth he managed no more than a parting cry
of alarm before he collided with the unyielding floor below. He was
luckier than some with the swiftness of his end; as his body collided
with the dark russet coloured floor his neck snapped like a dry
autumn twig ending his life in an instant. Jenkins' life's blood
flowed freely from his shattered body as he lay crumpled at the foot
of the building, his head twisted into an unimaginably impossible
angle, the vertebrae crushed to dust under the weight of his own
body.

Baker stormed through the door, his rifle pulled so
tightly against his shoulder it bruised his muscles sending a dull
ache echoing through his battered and tired frame. The door swung
back crashing into the dry, plaster covered wall so hard it buried
the handle in the sodden water stained surface as his sights zeroed
in on the Infected barrelling towards him. He squeezed the trigger
once, his finger curling around the concave metal barb and a soft pop
echoed off the walls as the bullet left the muzzle. Baker watched as
the back of the Infected Arab's head burst in a glistening shower of
bone and brain matter. The trickling patter of wet bone and cranial
tissue rolled through the still, warm air as Baker surged onwards.

'Jenkins, where the fuck are you? Jenkins, you scrawny
Irish bastard; where the fucking hell are you?'

Bakers gaze alighted for a second on the discarded rifle
lying in the middle of the corridor, the sling torn from its mounts
and the stock was cracked and split. Pieces of matted hair and scalp
were caught in the fissure running through the butt plate. A hard
lump settled in Baker's stomach as he neared the end of the corridor,
the smooth featureless walls drawing him to the only other place
Jenkins could have gone.

Baker's throat went dry as he neared the open window, he
knew what he would find at the bottom as much as he refused to
acknowledge the thought. Staring down through the haze ridden air he
saw the broken crumpled form of his squad mate lying on the roadway
below. 'Fuck.' His ear bead crackled as he stood there staring down
at the body below him. Lifting his fingers, he gently pressed against
the small buzzing object caught in his ear.

'We got two down; Dalescue and Higgins are down.'

Baker cursed under his breath as he moved his hand to
his throat.

'Confirm status.'

He dreaded the reply; although, no doubt lay in his mind
as to what it would be.

'Confirmed KIA.'

Baker's heart dropped as his fears were confirmed.
Swallowing back his first reply he pushed gently against the
transmitter and spoke.

'Acknowledged, confirmed KIA, relay confirmation of
Jenkins to top; he is confirmed down and KIA also.'

Baker cut the connection and flipped himself out the
window, vaulting the edge of the window like a professional gymnast.
His feet kissed the ground as he rolled with the impact absorbing the
shock and rolling up to his feet he paused. Reaching down, he tugged
Jenkins' dog tags from around his neck, and then set off in a dead
sprint towards the end of the street.

'This is Echo Six, requesting fire mission, danger
close.'

The line fizzed and popped as the signal bounced from
the relays.

'Echo Six, say again?'

'I want you to burn this god-damned place to the fucking
ground!'

Silence reigned for several seconds as the operator
pondered his next reply.

'You do accept that you will be in the area of fire.'

'I know it's danger close. I just fucking told you that
and I don't give a fuck. Just level the god-damned place. I'm marking
the location with an IR beacon. Give me a six hundred metre spread on
a three second chain.'

'Fire mission confirmed E.T.A, three minutes'

Baker cut the connection as he sprinted away from the
building, clutching the small black box in his fist. The heavy object
beeped twice as his fingers moved over it tapping out the codes so
deeply etched into his memory that he'd typed them out before he had
even consciously thought of them. Clipping the small device back on
to his vest he once more pressed his fingers to his throat.

'Any one still on the link?'

Rawlings, Kingsley and Bolton answered as one, their
unified calling lending a small measure of happiness to Baker's
actions as he sprinted deeper into the fire zone.

'Get to fall back point Charlie. This is going to be a
hot one and you don't want to be here when it drops. Get our boys off
the field and out with you. They deserve to go home in one piece.'

Kingsley's east Essex baritone rumbled deep within
Baker's mind as he ran on.

'And what about you? We ain't leaving without you,
Cherry.'

'Don't be fucking daft, you lanky prick. Do you think I
have that much of a death wish? It's danger close, not “drop it
on my freaking head.” Give me some credit; I do know what I'm
doing. Who the fuck trained you?'

Kingsley was silent for a second or two as he mulled
over his reply. Only one bubbled to the surface.

'You did.'

Baker smirked; he was certain the others could actually
hear the muscles of his face contracting as he spoke.

'Damn right it was me, so don't you think I at least
know enough to get the hell out of Dodge before they drop a one
hundred and five millimetre shell on my head!'

'Cherry, I said you trained me, I never said you had any
common sense.' Baker almost choked on his own words as the sarcastic
reply tumbled over him. 'Fucking smart arse.'

With that passing comment, Baker cut the connection and
snatched the Infra-red beacon from his vest, launching the small
device up onto the roof of the nearest building he carried on
sprinting for all he was worth. The pain in his knee was excruciating
to the point of blacking out but he pushed through it, drinking in
the sensation and letting it coarse through him. He pushed onwards,
getting as far from the area as he possibly could.

The AC130 Spectre gunship circled high above them,
slipping into a tight pylon turn as the mammoth plane circled the
position seeking out its target. With a heavy whirring, the plane
jockeyed into position the one hundred and five millimetre M102
cannon, zeroing in on the small flashing beacon two miles below. The
Bofors forty millimetre cannon peppered the ground as the flight crew
lined up the final shot for the M102, the plane rocked slightly on
its axis as the cannon fired. Baker flew through the air as the round
impacted behind him. Curling into the foetal position mid-air Baker
slammed hard into the floor, dirt cascading around him as he rolled
and bounced over the hard compacted rust coloured ground.

Rocks tore at his uniform, streaks of blood covering the
ground as he was tossed once more from his resting place. The high
velocity rounds from the plane circling above drove ever deeper into
the floor, pulverising the buildings that had stood there. Dust
coated his throat as he tried to breathe through the thick, cloying,
dense mire of dust and dirt that fell over him like a mother tucking
in her child. The cloud enveloped him as he began to slowly fade out,
the thumping impacts slowly growing dim as his eyes pin holed and the
world faded into black.

5

The world about him swirled and shook as he drifted back
into consciousness. Baker felt himself drifting; floating through the
air his eyes slowly began to focus on the soft blurred shapes above
him.

'Ringing.'

He softly muttered, the words lisping and choked as his
parched dust filled throat tried to open. Muted voices tried to force
their way into his mind but to no avail. All he could hear was a
muffled jumbled growl; it drove him insane as he desperately tried to
focus on what was being said, but it was a futile act.

It was like trying to listen through Vaseline covered
cotton wool; Baker shook his head once more with the same result;
nothing came through to him but a muffled distant groan akin to
listening to someone scream at you with your head submerged in a bath
full of water.

Baker slammed his fist against his head trying to shake
loose the tinnitus-like ringing in his ears. The only thing it did
was shake the dust from his helmet and beard, the fine granules
slipping past his lashes and stinging his eyes. Shaking his head
harshly from side to side, the noise washed in, assaulting his ears
like a sledge hammer on an egg.

'Fuck; okay, no need to fucking shout, I ain't deaf.'

Kingsley dragged Baker fully upright, running one spade
like hand down Baker's back in a half hearted show of trying to
smarten up his commander.

'Thought you were for a minute there, Cherry.'

Baker smirked, a small rivulet of blood running from his
over taxed nostrils as his sinuses gave in under the deluge of dust
and grit. 'You thought, I was deaf' Baker laughed hacking up a lump
of grit infused phlegm, spitting it into the dirt beneath his boots
he carried on.

'I thought I was fucking dead.'

His blood stained teeth detracted slightly from the coy
and cocky grin he plastered on his face to assuage the look of guilty
concern on Kingsley's face.

'Don't worry about it Solomon; it's all good; I am in
one piece, ain't I?'

Kingsley rubbed subconsciously at the back of his neck.

'Uh, not quite, mate.'

Kingsley lifted his hand and tapped at his left ear.
Gingerly Baker raised his fingers and felt around the slowly bleeding
gash on the side of his head. Tracing the line with his fingers, he
slowly drew them over the gristle covered remains of his left ear.

'Ah, bollocks, Janet's going to fucking kill me.'

Kingsley roared with laughter.

'Cherry, if an AC130 can't do it, then I doubt a London
nurse who weighs a buck ten when wet will be able to.'

Baker smirked as a medic sprinted over and slid to a
stop. Slowly Baker eased himself down on to a small jutting outcrop
of rock and patiently waited for the young Corporal to finish his
ministrations. Afterwards, leaning heavily on Kingsley; Baker limped
away up the now rubble strewn slope.

'Solomon.'

The onyx-black skinned man stopped letting Baker rest
his full weight on his already weary frame.

'Yeah, mate?'

'Janet's a doctor, not a nurse.'

Kingsley smirked pulling Baker sharply making the man
wince slightly.

'Watch it, ya fuck.'

Kingsley grinned once more showing sparkling white
teeth.

'Don't be a pedantic prick and I will.'

Baker chuckled, shifting some of his weight from his
friend's shoulder as he made ready to climb into the Land Rover ahead
of them.

****

Bakers eyes snapped open as the plane dropped in
altitude, his head bounced off the outer skin as the wheels struck
the runway.