The Doomsday Infection (30 page)

The ‘court’ cheered their approval and a chant rang up; “Hang the bastard! Hang the bastard! Hang the bastard!”

“Make him walk the plank, ah har!” suggesting one of the men in his best pirate voice.

“Keel-haul him!” shouted an ensign.

“I did it for the good of the ship, for the benefit of -” started the Commander.

“Hang him from the y
ard-arm!” yelled a swabbie from the back.

“What’s a yard-arm?” asked
Lebec seriously.

“What
I did,” said the commander. “Has been for the reputation of the navy and the safety of the United States of Ameri -”

“Aw, shut your yap,”
Lebec said in a bored tone, and shoved the commander in the back, sending him to meet his maker.

“
Argh!” screamed the commander as he plummeted over the railing, until the hemp rope snapped tight, but unfortunately did not break his neck, and he dangled from the rope, his legs kicked and twitched and his body spun one way then the next.

Lebec
approached the next condemned man. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

“Wrong answer.” He pushed him from the platform.

“How do you plead?” he asked the penultimate person.

“Not . . . not guilty, I only followed orders.”

“OK, you’re free to go.”

“Really?” the lieutenant asked in disbelief, as relief surged through him.

“No, not really.” He sniggered and pushed the lieutenant from the platform.

“Argh!” he yelled until his rope snapped tight, but the ‘drop’ was too long and the jerk ripped the young lieutenant’s head clean off, his body fell into the ocean, followed by the decapitated head.

The conspirators’ whooped with joy at the grisly sight.

“Whoa!” cheered Lebec. “Did you see that? It ripped the sucker’s head clean off his shoulders.”

One of his comrades fainted and fell off the platform causi
ng another roar of laughter.

Lebec
pushed the last prisoner off without any preamble as the ocean grabbed the colossal ‘unsinkable’ aircraft carrier in its clutches and dragged it down into the murky depths amidst a sea of bubbling froth.

CHAPTER 43

22.00 PM

In the tiny bedroom of the barge, Sophie snuggled against Luke’s chest, she sighed and stretched, when she heard a thump from above that almost stopped her heart. She lay frozen, trying to think if they had left any clues around to suggest that anyone lived on the barge. She leaned over and extinguished the flame of a small candle, plunging the cabin into darkness, and held her breath when she heard the footsteps on the deck above her.

She shook Luke roughly. “Wake up,” she hissed. “There’s someone on board.”

Luke came around slowly, feeling groggy. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. “Say that again?”

“Shush,” she whispered, “Lis
ten? Someone is up on deck.”

Luke galvanized himself into action, slid out from the comfort of the bed, slipped on his jeans, and placed the pistol down the rear of his pants.

“Be careful,” she urged as he sneaked up to the door. Luke entered the den and paused by the ladder up to the deck, listening at the hatch. He crept up the wide wooden ladder and peaked out from top.

The national guardsmen jumped back onto the embankment to join his companion. “Nope, nothing over there apart from a couple of old, stinking hippies.”

“Yeah, I hate hippies too, stinky soap-dodgers.”

“
Naw, I meant they are real hippies and they’re real dead and stinking. You know, rotting corpses.”

“Well, something warm-blooded showed up on the drone’s scanner, what led us here.”

“Sure there is. That.” He nodded at the horse.

Sophie crept up behind Luke on the ladder and they sneaked out onto the deck where they could see and hear the two young national guardsmen.

“Well, now,” said the tall, skinny soldier, tickling the horse’s ear and talking to the horse in a warm soothing voice. “We can’t have him keep popping up on the scanner can we now . . .” Quick as a flash he put his pistol to the horse’s eye and fired.

The gunshot echoed around the canal, sending a few startled birds skyward.

“Nooo!” shouted Sophie putting her hands to her mouth, utterly unable to believe her eyes, as the horse for a moment appeared uninjured, then with an agonizing high-pitched shriek toppled over.

The tall national guardsmen turned to Sophie and leered. “Well now,
looky here, this could be interesting.”

He moved towards the barge and as the teenage national guardsman jumped aboard, Luke shot at him from his hiding place, but missed.

The attack shocked the national guardsman and the gunshot deafened him. He pointed his rifle at Sophie while glaring at Luke with loathing. “Drop it now or I’ll blow her away. Do it, now!”

Luke moved to comply when Sophie said. “Don’t do it! You know they
kill’ll us both.”

“I mean it," said the national guardsman and he pulled the trigger slowly back
.

“Alright, be cool, man, here,” Luke capitulated, and handed over the pistol. The rifleman motioned with his weapon for Luke to squat on the deck, and then smacked him around the head with the butt of his rifle rendering him unconscious.

Luke awoke slowly, and saw that the two national guardsmen had discarded their hazmat suits, which had impeded their assault upon Sophie.

The teenage guardsman threw her down on the deck and ripped open the front of her blouse. She screamed and tried to hold the two remnants of fabric together. The tall skinny guardsman jeered at her protests and egged him on. “Go on, rape the bitch!” he chuckled.

Sophie struggled with all her might, twisting from side to side to throw off her attacker who mauled her and chuckled. She swiftly brought her knee up into his crotch, making him wince and roll off her.

The older guardsman became aroused further by her struggling efforts to escape. “Now,
darlin’, enough is enough, me and my buddy are having you, one way, or the other.  Why not make it easy on yourself?”

“I’d rather die,” she hissed.

“OK, your choice.” He picked up his rifle, stood over her and placed the barrel against the bridge of her nose. Sophie stared hypnotically down the barrel of the rifle, and saw the trigger pulled back as if in slow motion, when the soldier was kung fu kicked off balance by Luke.

The soldier staggered backward and almost fell into the canal. He turned and chuckled when he saw Luke stare at him, challenging him. “Well now,
looky here. I might’ve underestimated you.”

He grinned at his friend who released Sophie and they spread out, Luke had tro
uble keeping his balance as the trio moved around the deck, dodging the various objects scattered around, plus the two dead hippies, “Give it up, pal,” said the tall skinny national guardsman.

“I’m
gonna kill the pair of you,” Luke told them menacingly, but it only made them guffaw.

The teenage guardsman charged at Luke, who sidestepped him and put his foot out, tripping the s
oldier and sending him sprawling with a wail into the canal. However, before Luke could enjoy his small victory, the tall skinny guardsman, leaped on him, and they wrestled to the deck. The national guardsman threw a punch that Luke blocked, then a roundhouse that Luke deflected, he managed to return with an uppercut, stunning the guardsman for a moment, Luke then elbowed him in the throat and tried a forearm smash. The guardsman blocked the badly executed swing, got his breath back and kicked Luke in the shin, making him bend, he then brought his knee up into Luke’s nose, crunching it with a sickening snap. Luke shook his head trying to clear his vision. He threw another punch, but the soldier blocked it, and he managed to get his foot behind Luke’s ankle and pushed him over, the national guardsman’s superior training in unarmed combat had overpowered him and as he straddled Luke he had his ka-bar knife in his hand in a flash.

He turned it over in his palm so that it glinted in the moonlight and Luke got the message. “Any last requests?” he said.

Luke gasped and tried to speak but all that emerged from his cracked lips was a hoarse whisper.

“What’s that?” the skinny national guardsman asked.

Luke beckoned him closer, and the guardsman put his ear to Luke’s mouth, “I said -” He snapped his head forward and viciously head-butted the national guardsman with a sickening thud. “- Watch out for the head-butt.” Luke rolled from underneath him.

The guardsman stood groggily with blood flowing from his busted nose. They circled each other once more. Luke led with a sidekick, which the guardsman dodged. He retaliated with a hip-kick and caught Luke in the ribs, and swiftly followed it with an ankle sweep that had Luke on his back. He then stomped down on Luke’s leg with all his might, and heard a satisfying snap as the shinbone snapped
, “Argh!” Luke cried out, trying to kick out with his good leg, but falling back in agony.

The skinny national guardsman towered over Luke on the deck and sneered down at him. “You’re one gutsy bastard, I’ll give you that,” he raised his rifle, when suddenly his eyes flipped open and blood trickled from his lips. Luke could only stare in wonder as the guardsman abruptly dropped to his knees, then fell forwards, to reveal a k
itchen knife stuck in his back.

Sophie’s relief quickly turned to disgust
when she realized what she had done – she had taken a human life, but she had saved Luke’s life and that’s what mattered. She sobbed tears of joy, and threw herself into his strong, comforting arms.

After a moment Luke, yelped, and rubbed his wounded leg. Sophie glanced at it. “It’s broken,” she said flatly.

“Hey! Hey! What’s going on up there?” yelled the teenage national guardsman. “Is anyone going to get me out of this stinking water any time soon, huh?”

Luke crawled over to the edge of the barge to see the teenage guardsman splashing about, treading water. “Wher
e’s Colt?”

“Was he the tall, skinny piece of piss?” Luke asked matter-of-factly, as if they were two people chatting on a park bench.

“Whoa, dude, I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that. Hey Colt, Colt, dude?” The teenage national guardsman lost some of his cool, and asked. “Where’s Colt?”

“He can’t come out to play right now, I’m afraid,” Luke told him.

“Oh yeah, why not?”

“He’s come over all dead.”

“You better not have done anything to him,” he threatened without conviction.

“I wouldn’t splash around so much if I were you,” Luke told him calmly.

“What like this?” he said and splashed furiously in the water. “What’re you going to do about it, huh?”

“Oh, I
ain’t gonna do nothing -” Luke said nonchalantly, “- but he might,” he nodded to the triangular-shaped wake caused by the alligator’s snout.

The teenager splashed noisily, he turned and saw to his utter terror the alligator heading his way. He screamed and thrashed his way towards the embankment, but found the side too steep for him to get out. With sheer determination, he leaped up from the water. He grabbed a handful of leafy grass and dragged himself half out, when he let out a blood curdling howl, as the twelve foot long alligator caught him by the ankle, and eighty needle-like
teeth pierced his flesh with three thousand pounds of jaw pressure clamped down on his bone, dragging him back into the murky water. He went to scream once more but only a gurgle escaped from his lips as the alligator bit a chunk from his stomach and blood spewed from his mouth like a tap.

He fl
apped his arms as the snapper pulled him below the water, he bobbed back up once more, and then disappeared from view.

CHAPTER 44

22:15 PM

Vice-Admiral Reed arrived at the White House security gates, and went through the usual rigmarole of being ushered into the building’s checkpoint, vigorously frisked by a marine, eventually satisfied he saluted him and he was in and although not a stranger to the powerhouse he marveled at his surroundings.

In the Oval Office Hami
lton Parker shouted down the internal telephone, “Vice-Admiral Reed is here? Why? Who sent for him? I most certainly did not!”

The Surgeon G
eneral observed the President with caution as the man paced the Oval Office in a state of panicked rage. He had flipped between being a charming, smiling politician to a raving lunatic and back again in the blink of an eye all evening. He noted that the President was in a permanently agitated state, and that he had not shaved all day, adding to his overall unkempt appearance, “No, no,” continued the President. “Send him up.” He slammed down the telephone and then swept it from his desk as an afterthought.

The
President turned on Quinn Martell. “I know what you are up to, you and the Vice-Admiral, I’m not stupid, you know. What you two are plotting between you is treason of the highest order. I’ll have you thrown in jail and executed for this, you see if I don’t.”

“I have no idea
what you mean, Mister President.” Quinn said in alarm.

The
President nodded at the ever-present armed guard in full dress uniform. “You see my personal guard over there, I can order him to shoot you, you know?”

The young guard’s eyes registered shock, flicked to the
President for a split second then eyes front as usual, but he swallowed hard.

“Don’t you believe me?” asked
the President sinisterly.

“I,
erm, I, I’m not entirely -”

A sharp rap on the door broke the tension and Vice-Admiral Reed entered. He extended his arm to shake, but the
President waved his hand away. “Ah, conspirator number two,” the President jeered, “Come on in, come join the party.”

Reed looked from one man to the other. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow?”

Hamilton Parker circled the desk. “You two.” He pointed from one man then to the other. “I know all about your plotting and your secrecy, I know everything. I’ve been listening in on Quinn’s telephone calls to you. They made highly interesting listening too, I might add. You were going to try and have me subpoenaed, claiming I’m unfit for office on medical grounds, saying I’m mentally unbalanced?” His voice rose to a screech. “I’m as sane as any man in this goddamned room. I’m under enormous pressure, you know. I’m facing an unprecedented end of the world catastrophe. Can you even start to imagine the pressure I’m under? Who knows how I’m meant to behave. We’re being attacked by an unknown enemy country. We don’t know who to retaliate against, but, boy when I find out.” He smacked his fist into the palm of his hand, “They won’t know what’s hit them. I’ll unleash a counter attack unlike anything the world has ever seen. These terrorists have picked on the US for the last time. I have my people working on this problem. The moment we find out who is behind the releasing of this plague we will bomb the bastards out of existence, show these goddamned rag-heads for the last time that we are not to be messed with, we’ve had enough of playing the nice guy, and we have turned the cheek for the last time. Mess with us at your peril, the US of A will not tolerate any transgressions, and that means we will demand the respect of the worlds’ leaders or they’ll damn well know about it. It’s about time that this great country had a leader to match the power that we are capable of and that man is me.” He leaned on his desk and added. “But first I’m going to start worming-out the lily-livered appeasers at home trying to undermine me - like you two.”

“Mister President,” the vice-admiral finally found his voice. “I’m not entirely sure what you think the surgeon general and I have done?”

“You two are plotting against me for starters. Trying to remove me from power is tantamount to attempting to overthrow the government. That is a treasonable offence for which I could have you executed.” He chuckled to himself and watched them squirm in discomfort.

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” said the vice-admiral. “Our intentions are only for the good of the country, and keeping stability throughout the world.”

“My, my, aren’t we noble,” he said sarcastically. “How altruistic. So, no plans for your own political ambitions?” said the President, but he could see the vice-admiral looked baffled. “Let me explain; who stands next in line to be President if I were removed, hmm?”

“W
ell . . . normally it’d be the Vice President, which we don’t have . . .” the President made a hand gesture for him to continue his line of thought. “Erm, then the Speaker of the House, who, erm, resigned, then . . . oh!” he said and concluded the succession.

“Ah, the penny’s dropped,” barked the
President. “That’s right - the Secretary of Defense – you!” he snapped.

“I assure you nothing was further from my mind, Mister President, I only had the best i
nterests of -”

“Can it, Reed. Save it for your trial. A couple of years in federal pris
on should give you time to
think
and repent your crime before you’re execution.”

“Mister President, I think you’re blowing this out of proportion.” chimed Quinn.

The President cut him off. “And you, Quinn, will be sitting right next to him, charged with war crimes.”

“War crimes?” spluttered Quinn. “That’s absurd!”

The President held up a hand, and pressed a button on the intercom on his desk. “Get me security.” He turned and grinned nastily at them and Quinn felt a chill run down his spine.

The
President nodded to the armed guard. “Cover these two traitors,” the guard fumbled for his sidearm, unsure what to do, and with a trembling hand pointed it at the two men. “You are under arrest for treason, you sonsofbitches!”

22:30 PM

Sophie had reset Luke’s l
eg and made a splint from two table-legs. She had also fashioned him a crutch from a tree branch. He hobbled onto the embankment and rummaged through the national guardsman’s belongings trying to find anything of use. “What’s this? Some sort of communications devise?”

“It’s a military satellite phone.”

“Would it work for civilian telephone calls?” he asked.

She felt excited, for the first time in a long while, as they now had a link to the outside world.
“We must be sparing with it, I think they’ll be able to trace the call,” she took it from him, and removed the batteries from the compartment. “Even when it is off, the batteries make a signal that can be triangulated and would pin-point our exact location.”

“Let’s call your buddy, the surgeon general.”

“I will soon, but we must get out of here, these guys will be missed, and someone will come looking. Are you up to moving?”

He hoisted the soldiers rifles over his shoulder, tested his weight on the crutch, it appeared to take his weight, and he grimaced. “Sure, let’s go,” he said unconvinced and almost fell back into the canal.

22:45 PM

In the war room, tensions were running high; the remaining chiefs of staff were fighting a losing battle down in southern Florida and knew it. The back-room staff were dealing with reams of information, which in turn made mountainous piles of papers, with each new piece of information analyzed and if necessary forwarded. They faced an avalanche of information overload and it buried them.

The chairman of the chiefs of Staff, Colonel Simpson, known as Homer, to the wittier of his friends, tried to keep order. “What’s the latest from the Jefferson?” he asked above the din.

“No response from the USS Thomas Jefferson, sir,” replied a major.

“Still?”

“No, sir.”

“No communications, again? We need to get them back online. That ship is our eyes and ears down there.”

“Colonel, you don’t think . . .” the major started to suggest.

“What, that the terrorists have overpowered a six thousand strong contingent of men aboard the most advanced aircraft carrier in the world? No, I don’t think so,” he smiled at the ludicrous suggestion.

“Could the Bubonic Plague have gotten on board, sir?”

“Not a chance, I know Captain Phillips personally, and his rigorous testing for any traces of the Black Death would have been second to none.”

“Begging your pardon, sir. But the Jefferson has one of the most sophisticated communication systems known to man. If one line of communication has failed then they would have countless other methods to get a message through to us,” he said.

The Colonel absorbed the information, “You’re
right, Major. Send a jet to do a fly by, see if there’s a problem.”

“All the jets in the vicinity are on board t
he aircraft carrier, sir.”

“Find one, M
ajor,” the colonel snapped unfairly. “There has to be a goddamned jet somewhere,” he said exasperated.

23.15 PM

The F-18 Tomcat scrambled from Fort Branson
, based in Alabama, had lieutenant Carrington sat at the controls. He pushed forward on his stick, checked his height and heading, and puzzled over the peculiar instructions he’d received - to fly into the exclusion zone down in Florida.

He felt a slight pang of anxiety. Flying into the zone would be dangerous, especially now he had read the bulletin concerning the district. The main one being that any aircraft, friend or foe, within the zone would be shot down immediately. In fact, in all likelihood he would be blown out of the sky by the very aircraft c
arrier he had been sent to contact. He hoped that they had gotten the message to not target him.

It was a problem, because their communications were down. He gulped and swallowed down his fear. He felt sweat trickle down his spine. What a predicament, he was to establish contact with a vessel whose last instructions were to shoot him down. How unlucky could he get, he grumbled. The Thomas Jefferson had the capability to shoot him out of the sky from a distance of over two hundred miles away easily. He would already show on their long-distance radar, his course heading would ring alarm bells, and their weapons would automatically lock onto him. He shuddered at the thought. Killed by his own side. No heroic dying in combat for him. No aerial battle of wills, or dogfights like his heroes of W
W1. No, he’d be blasted to smithereens by his countrymen.

He crossed over into the exclusion zone and held his breath. So far so good. He scanned the horizon, the blackness of the night adding to his feeling of dread. He checked his monitors; nothing had fired at him, and in fact nothing showed on his monitors at all. Not a thing. He was the only mechanical object in the sky. He glanced over and with an eerie sensation, he saw the l
ights of the towns, cities and the freeway networks of northern Florida, suddenly turn an inky black as he crossed into the exclusion zone. He could not begin to contemplate what life would be like down there for the survivors.

He b
rought his thoughts back to the present. Even though his monitors were clear, he still felt better using his own eyes, knowing that even electronic components could malfunction. Ninety-nine percent of his job entailed minding the computers that flew the craft for him, the one percent was for when there was a glitch with the equipment, or a snafu as he and his pals liked to call it.

He hope
d that the aircraft carrier was not suffering a snafu now and was at least receiving incoming communications. He looked forward, wondering if he would be able to see the approaching missile. Would it be so fast that it would glow red in the dark sky, or would the brand new aircraft carrier have some new technology that jammed his systems, so he would not know of his impending doom.

He slowed the F-18 and descended to make his approach, surprised that he had no visual contact with the ship. On a cloudless night such as tonight, the aircraft carrier should be lit up like a beacon on the black vastness of the ocean. He pulled on his stick and descended further, and slowed his speed. He would be over the co-ordinates within a minute. However, he
still could not see the aircraft carrier. He checked his monitor, still nothing else flying. He thought that at least one of the aircraft carriers seventy plus aircraft would have been flying a reconnaissance mission. Night-time operations were standard on an aircraft carrier, but he couldn’t see anything.

He flew lower still, che
cked his monitors and flew over where the ship should be. It made no sense? He thought. How could it disappear? He had seen nothing on approach, he could see seventy miles in all directions at least, and they could not be more that seventy miles off course. 

He banked tightly feeling the g-force pushing him back in his seat, as he went for a visual from the other direction, not that it made any difference. Nope
. Nothing.