Base (2 page)

‘Nice shot, Captain,' one of his men called out from the following truck.

‘Hundreds more to go,' he called back, his voice resigned.

Stomach roiling, Ruth couldn't watch anymore. The woman had been one of her patients. Breast cancer. She'd recognised her when the wig came off. The navy shot them like refuse but these were humans to her, with some sort of incurable disease.

‘Waste of a great dress. I could never have afforded that on my salary,' Sue said, envy flashing in her eyes.

‘Sue!' Ruth said. ‘How can you?'

‘What? I can't use humour anymore?'

‘Really, Sue?' Lea asked, distressed. ‘I think we've got more important things to worry about than the price tag of a braindead's dress.'

‘Sorry,' Sue said. ‘I'm totally freaked out, okay? And I saw that dress in Vanilla. It cost over one thousand dollars.'

The gunfire continued.

Lea's body jerked with every shot. ‘Do you think they feel pain?'

Ruth nodded wearily. ‘The newly infected. Yeah. The fever's terrible. The others? Who knows? They lose their ability to talk.'

‘Who cares,' Sue said. ‘A snake has feelings too, doesn't stop a person from shooting them dead. If you'd left Mrs Nichols we could have escaped. The radio said the road to the Blue Mountains was open when the virus broke out in the city. We could have gone to my parent's farm in the Megalong. The whole damn thing is fenced. Now? Who knows? Everything is blocked off thanks to that megalomaniac down there.'

A groan and a hiss sounded down the hallway. Their apartment door rattled this time. Thump.

Lea, her crystal-blue eyes stark with fear, pulled off the worrisome bit of dry skin from her lip.

Sue raced down the hallway then back up to the lounge area again. Her hazel eyes were so wide Ruth could see the whites. ‘Mrs Nichols is thumping at the door handle with a rock. It's the size of a rockmelon. The handle's going to break off.'

Ruth stood and grabbed a long iron sculpture from her deck. She needed two hands to hold it. ‘Stay back. This is my fault. I'll fix it.' She heard a click from the street. She turned slowly and cautiously towards the road. Her eyes slid to the truck. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

The captain had his rifle pointed at her. ‘You need help up there, miss? We've got a live woman here,' he called out to his men. ‘Don't shoot.'

She froze staring into his handsome face.

He smiled. ‘Don't be frightened. I'm coming up,' he called from below her apartment. He launched himself out of his truck, his rifle, loose and comfortable in his hands and raced towards her apartment.

Thump. The sound came from down the hall. Louder this time.

Lea whimpered with fear.

Ruth raced from the balcony into the apartment and down the hall. She looked down at the carpet in front of the door. The handle lay there. The door creaked open. Mrs Nichols stood on the landing between their two apartments. She staggered towards them with the gait of the braindead, opened her mouth and growled. Her bloodshot eyes, the capillaries traumatised with the illness, didn't blink. A monster. Frighteningly unrecognisable from the sweet lady she was. Ruth froze. She'd never killed anyone before.

Lea screamed, her pitch high with terror.

Sue grabbed a poker from the fireplace.

Ruth gripped her weapon in both hands. Years of treating head trauma patients had taught her what strength it took to smash a skull in but she'd never actually done it. She raced down the hallway and swinging the sculpture like a baseball bat hit Mrs Nichols on the temple.

Mrs Nichols fell to her knees, catching Ruth's arm as she did so. Her other hand lashed out trying to claw her. Horrified, Ruth raised her foot and kicked at Mrs Nichols in the gut so that the old lady lost traction and flew backward, hitting her head against the wall before sliding onto the floor. Dear God, who was the real monster now?

The captain raced in through the front door and aimed his gun at Mrs Nichols. Bang.

Ruth looked up to find his gaze on her. His piercing green eyes pinned her for an instant before he turned to Mrs Nichols, pointed his gun again at the groaning woman on the floor and fired another bullet.

Mrs Nichols lay still.

‘I had this one,' Ruth said panting, knowing wariness for this vigilante would be loud in her eyes.

‘A thank you would be nice,' the captain said.

‘I had it covered,' she said through gritted teeth. There was no way she wanted to owe this guy anything.

‘You only dented the skull. She'd have gotten up again,' he said, looking the dead woman over. ‘Next time run a poker through her eye. You have to disable the brain or what's left of it.' He nodded at Sue who still held her poker. ‘You got the right idea. Pulverise the brain.'

Behind him, two other men raced up the stairs, twisting and turning, their rifles cocked in front of them as they scoped out Mrs Nichols' apartment opposite.

‘Three healthy women,' the captain said to his men with a wide smile.

‘What a find,' one of them said, his gaze moving over them as if assessing his catch.

‘What a relief,' said the other. ‘Live women. Yes!' He punched the air.

For whom? Ruth thought. She stared at the captain. His shoulders were as wide as her doorway, but it wasn't his raw-honed build that intimidated her, it was his face. He looked like it'd been hewn from stone and that kind of hardness took years to achieve. She knew. She'd seen it in the experienced doctors, the ones who'd worked too long in accident and emergency. High cheekbones hollowed out his face. His winged black eyebrows and sensuous mouth brought some relief but he looked like he lived on adrenaline and coffee. She supposed he could be called handsome if one fancied the footy-player type with his black, razor-cut hair and broken nose.

‘You girls been bitten?' the captain asked.

‘No,' Ruth said.

‘Good. My men will escort you across the road into the base,' he said.

‘We're not going,' Ruth said.

‘You'll be safe with us,' the captain said. ‘Pack some clothes now. This street's coming alive with braindeads. You want to get eaten?'

Lea jumped. ‘Maybe we should, Ruth. It'll be safe there. Can I get my computer and equipment? I'm an immunologist. I was working on a cure at my lab.'

He nodded. ‘Just the computer. We'll come back for the rest in the daylight. Gets worse when it's dark.'

‘Lea. Don't go,' Ruth ordered her friend. She turned back to the captain. ‘We're taking my car down to Balmoral. I've got a boat. We'll be safe on the water. Tell your men to remove the road block and we'll be on our way.'

‘There's a plague of braindeads there. Everyone had that idea and then they got bit. Vassar. Armstrong. Help the women carry what they need.' The captain motioned them with his rifle. ‘Come on.'

Was he lying?
Ruth hadn't left the apartment for two months, not with Mrs Nichols guarding the door. With all communications down several months ago, she couldn't tell how bad things were at Balmoral Beach. The only indication was the braindeads that walked the street below her apartment had multiplied. Anyway, it wasn't easy to argue with a man holding a gun, but she turned her back on him, walked into the lounge room, slipping her boat keys into her jean's pocket then picked up her duffle bag, which held her medical supplies and other essentials.

‘Here, I'll carry it for you,' the captain said, holding out his hand for her bag.

‘I'll manage.' Ruth held the duffle bag to her chest. She could feel his eyes devouring her as she followed Lea, Sue and the two men down the stairs. She hadn't missed the men's relief at finding women alive.

Once downstairs the captain marched them to another truck following the garbage truck. Ruth glanced further up the street. She froze. Although concrete barriers blocked all the side roads as far as she could see, braindeads pressed against them groaning, arms stretched out. The remaining braindeads on Middle Head Road walked towards them. Their uber designer gear contrasted against their rotting flesh making them grotesque parodies of their former selves.

‘Quick. It's not safe,' a blond-haired sailor ushered them towards a truck.

Ruth looked behind her. Bang. The captain was already firing on the approaching contaminated. The street swarmed with them. Her stomach turned. Two months trapped inside by Mrs Nichols and her world had gone to hell.

The captain stopped firing for a moment. ‘Armstrong, put the women into the last truck. Get down to the base and lock them up.'

Chapter 2

Captain Jack Lang scanned the street, the truck's spotlights lighting up the roundabout where his men had placed barriers. They'd built the concrete barrier high at the junction of Middle Head Road and Bradley's Head. Still he could hear so much groaning and shuffling, he was tempted to lob a grenade, but he didn't want to risk damaging the barrier. A braindead staggered out of the pub on the corner. Jack would have laughed at the irony if he hadn't been so exhausted. Taking aim he shot it. It dropped. His men had already done a sweep of the pub and cleared the liquor out. How had they missed this braindead?

He'd made sure the alcohol was locked away on the base. Alcohol made men stupid and stupid got you bit. Every reward would have to be earned, since money no longer counted. The face of the sexy, red-headed woman came to mind. She was trouble. One petite package with fine features and skin like cream, except her bright blue eyes cut a man like a laser when challenged. Ruth, one of the other women had called her.

Jack's cock stirred. In another life he could have fallen for her. Now? No way. Too mouthy. Too demanding at a time he had nothing left to give.

‘It's getting dark,' he said to Lieutenant Vassar. ‘Low visibility.'

‘Good body count today, Captain. All the barriers held too.'

‘Why so few live people?' It had taken an hour with his rifle set to automatic to clean out the rest of Middle Head Road along with the braindeads pressing against the barriers. Damn it, he had to find more. He had a hundred men on the base, many of those had served with him in the Middle East. Good men. Men who'd come home only to find they'd lost all their loved ones. The same men who'd returned to the base to serve under him when he put out the call. The sailors obeyed his rules and it had paid off, they were alive but they needed a reason to keep going. Saving lives gave them that reason. Rewards worked too.

But he only had three women.

‘Wealthy area. People who could left when the contagion started,' Lieutenant Vassar said. ‘The rest got bit.'

Jack turned his truck around and headed back to the base, the other trucks filled with his best shooters followed.

The large houses with their manicured lawns were fading with the approaching night. Why was no one calling out for help? Were there others trapped and too scared to call out? No one trusted the government anymore. That was for sure. Hell, he sure didn't, they'd been too slow to act, which is why he decided to work on containment whether the government liked it or not. Keeping the compound clean of infected, blocking roads, clearing out the braindeads, one street at a time on the peninsula. God knows, he could lay his head down on his bed and sleep for a week but he still had the women to look after. Somehow he had a feeling he was going to run into problems when he ordered Ruth to strip.

***

‘Hey!' Ruth hammered on the door of her cell. ‘Let us out of here.'

‘Give it up, Ruth,' Sue said. ‘I'm sure they'll let us out when they're ready.'

Ruth whirled around. ‘What? You think locking us up on the base without explanation is acceptable?'

‘It'd be better if you quit yelling out. You're giving me a headache.' Sue massaged her temples.

Ruth scowled at her. ‘Sorry to upset your delicate sensibilities.'

‘Quit fighting. I can hear footsteps,' Lea said.

Ruth froze. ‘Boots. They're coming back.' Her fingers curled around the cell bars. To her right she could see the captain striding down the corridor, all swagger and intent, his two henchmen who had loaded them into the trucks, following him.

The captain reached into his pocket and unlocked the door. ‘I'm Captain Jack Lang, commander of this base. Sorry for making you ladies wait but dawn and dusk are the best times to clear braindeads. Please follow me.'

‘Where are you taking us?' Ruth asked.

‘Into the medical inspection room. We need to check you for bites under high intensity lighting before you mix with the others. I can't risk the infection spreading.' He turned and walked down the hall.

The three women followed him into a large white room with an examination table in the centre of it. The two other men stayed outside.

‘We weren't bitten,' Sue said. ‘We were all stuck inside because Ruth insisted on nursing Mrs Nichols who thanked us by trying to eat us.'

Ruth saw the captain look her over.

‘Who wants to be checked first?' the captain asked.

‘Wait a minute,' Ruth said. ‘Don't you have medical personnel to do this? A female doctor?'

‘Our doctors were among the first bitten, which was unfortunate because I could have done without this job.'

‘So why do it?' Ruth challenged.

Jack slammed his hands on the examination table and leaned forward, his gaze pinioning her. ‘Because I've sworn to keep everyone on this base safe to the best of my ability. No braindeads are getting in.'

Ruth noticed the edge of exhaustion in his voice. She didn't give a shit. Instead she crossed her arms in front of herself. ‘Listen, I didn't ask to come here. I'm not taking my clothes off for you and neither are my friends.'

‘I will,' Sue said, pulling off her T-shirt and undoing her jeans to reveal her bountiful breasts encased in sheer underwear and a flat, tanned tummy.