Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (3 page)

'Kid, you okay?'

The boy's movements stilled as Baker edged closer, his
feet drove him forwards as his mind whirled, searching through his
basic knowledge of the language for the right words.

Clumsily he stumbled over them; the stilted words
feeling strange on his tongue as if he was talking through liquid
toffee. He stood watching as the boy's fingers flexed and clawed at
the floor, grabbing hold of the dead man's robes he pushed the body
away and for the first time he saw the face of the child he had
saved. The boy's eyes were wide and blood shot, his face a pale ashen
grey. The skin began to slowly swell and blister. Pustular weeping
sores erupting in fountains of steaming green puss, the stinking
green fluid flowed down the child’s face.

Baker's brow furrowed in confusion. Kicking the body
over onto its back he looked at the eyes of the man he had just
killed. As he did his blood ran cold, chilling him to the core.

'Fuck.'

His rifle snapped up and locked on to the boy before
him.

Backing away slowly, Baker felt the hairs on the back of
his neck rise. Something was wrong; very wrong. The whole village
took on a new aura of malevolence for him as he heard the soft
scraping of sandals over dirt. Spinning through a one hundred and
eighty degree arc, he set his rifle's optical sights over the archway
he had just come through, the silhouetted form of a man in Arabic
robes loomed in the doorway, silhouetted by the dying of the morning
sun.

Stepping back quickly, Baker moved towards the only
other exit he could conceivably use, the small box shaped window
behind him. Moving back as quickly as he could without alarming those
around him, Baker made his way to his last hope of survival. He
pressed the stock of his weapon tight to his shoulder lodging it in
place, his knuckles turning white from the pressure on the pistol
grip of his weapon.

He felt behind him for the ledge of the window, his hand
floundering in the air as he groped blindly for the rough hewn block
work of the casement.

His finger tips made the briefest of contact with the
casement and he sighed mentally with relief as he felt his salvation
within reach. Then his world went sideways as a ragged bearded face
burst through the window as a small body slammed into Baker's
unprotected side sending him careening into the wall. The boy's teeth
snapped at Baker's dust covered face, the boy's face sent a cold
shiver through him as he stared at the now pallid pustule scared
flesh. The boy's skin seemed to move of its own accord as if the
flesh beneath were in itself alive. The child's eyes chilled Baker to
his very soul.

As he gazed into them, they shone with a dull lifeless
glow. They were wild with hunger and dead as a corpse's. He gazed
into the bottomless pits of pupils that were dilated far beyond
normal; it was akin to staring into the depths of space; a dark
merciless void, empty and barren as if the very soul of the child had
died.

The child's skinned lips were pulled
back so tightly, that the dull bloodless flesh of the child's gums
glimmered before him wet with saliva. Mucus and saliva poured forth
from the boy in equal measure

as he lunged forward face first,
intent on sinking his stained pre-pubescent teeth into Baker's
unprotected cheek.

Grimacing, Baker drove his closed fist into the child's
windpipe and almost wept when he felt the fragile cartilage snap upon
contact. The boy's eyes bulged as his airways were suddenly gone from
this world. The child's mouth opened and closed as he gasped clawing
at his destroyed oesophagus.

The Arab in the window levered himself through,
collapsing to the floor with a crunch. Like a amalgamation of man,
snake, and spider, he crawled over the dirt floor to the struggling
form of the child and with all the glee of a vengeful predator, sunk
his teeth into the boy's throat.

Blood burst forth in a glistening arc of arterial spray.
The wet opalescent fluid glistened in the sunlight as it pattered
across the ground, bursting like a dying star as it impacted mixing
with the heavy red dust of the floor. Blood dripped from the ceiling
as Baker sat there staring.

Unable to tear his gaze away from the
sight before him, he couldn't shake from his mind the fact that this
man was eating, literally
eating
the boy as he thrashed beneath him.

Slowly the boy's movement stilled, and still the man ate
sinking further and further into the boy's form as he chewed through
all in his path. Blood rolled over the floor in an ever expanding
mire of dust laden goo, the cooling mixture made the air metallic
with its stench.

The rich acidic copper taste clung
to Baker's throat as he pushed himself up from his position against
the wall and staggered to the window, heaving himself bodily through
it. Turning, he glanced behind him locking eyes with the Arab in the
arch way. The cool amber coloured eyes stared back at him from
beneath the black bush like eyebrows as he watched Baker and the
gorging feast before him.

Baker's spell of captivation was broken by the garbled
cries of four men as they rounded the corner. Like a pack of wolves
they screamed as one. The sound was primal, almost inhuman as they
sprinted towards Baker's confused form. Snapping his rifle to his
shoulder, he fired three quick shots and watched as two of them
smashed into the face of one of his would-be assailants, while the
third carved deeply into the throat of another.

Startled, stung, and yelping, the other two turned and
fled. Baker quickly jogged to the prostrate forms of the two men. One
was a twitching headless mess, while the second lay choking on his
own blood. Baker stared down at him searching for some sign of life
in the man's face but all he found was the same dilated blood shot
dead eyes of his other two would-be killers in the building behind
him, he watched as the blood bubbled up from the dying man's throat.
The crimson liquid surging forth in small cascading fountains as his
lungs slowly began to fill.

The twisted distorted features of the condemned man,
glared up at him the dark soulless eyes warped by the pustule filled
sores surrounding them and his mouth. The man below him shot his hand
forth, his bone-like fingers curling into Baker's assault vest as he
heaved himself upwards, jaws snapping.

A heavy muffled pop echoed down the dead alleyway and
the man's body fell to the floor lifeless. Sliding his side arm into
its holster on his thigh, Baker stood and quickly made his way to the
end of the alley. Glancing quickly left and right, Baker sprinted
across the deserted road way.

'Pottergate, this is Baker.'

Listening intently, Baker slid to a halt behind a
rapidly over flowing skip. Dropping to one knee, he slipped his
water bottle from the pouch on his side and drank quickly, rapidly
screwing the cap back on and shoving the bottle back into the pouch
as his ear bead squawked.

'Baker, this is Pottergate, go ahead'

Baker pressed down on the microphone strapped to his
throat. 'Something has hit this place big time, chief. I just
watched a local chew his way through a kid who seconds before had
tried to do the same to me. I managed to hop through an open window
and was promptly set upon by four other locals. I dropped two and the
others legged it. Chief, it's not good news thus far I know and it
only gets worse. They have the same physical symptoms as those eight
troopers back in Abu Naji, it's here boss whatever the fuck it is,
it's here.'

Baker heard a poorly suppressed curse roll down the line
as he let the reality of what he was saying sink in.

'You think it's the same thing.'

Baker grimaced; he didn't want to admit it and he could
hear the tinge of pleading denial in his commander's voice, but he
had no choice.

'Yeah, I do.'

He heard Pottergate sigh deeply as he thought over the
ramifications.

'Fine, call up the rest and sweep and clear the entire
place. It's a directive ten situation. I'll get the top to inform the
Iraqis of the situation. Rawlings, Bolton.'

The line fizzed for a second then Rawlings' West Country
accent rolled down the line.

'Sir?'

'We all know you were listening in. You're on over
watch. You are authorized weapons free; drop anything on two feet
that isn't in a military uniform. If it moves, kill it.' Baker pulled
his finger away from his ear as he scanned the surroundings. The cold
tendrils of paranoia began to slither up through his spine as he
waited for any signs of the rest of his team mates.

'Cherry, chill, mate, we got you covered, Bolton has
jumped on the fifty so we have more bang for our buck up here.'

Baker snorted at the use of his nickname. Ever since
someone had mistyped his last name on a docket slip he had been
branded with the nickname Cherry.

Baker had sworn vengeance upon the
man who had forever tainted his name, but much to his chagrin, he had
never found the one responsible for comparing him to a marzipan based
English pastry.

Glancing up to the ridge above him, he smiled tightly.

'Fucking Bakewell.'

Rawlings' quizzical tone slipped through the ear bead.

'What was that Cherry?'

'Nothing mate just comforting to know
that
Oh two
is on a high calibre rifle and covering my arse.'

A stream of laughter filled curses poured into Baker's
ear like syrup, drawing him into a heartfelt smile. Bolton hated his
nickname but there was little he could do about it when it was given
to him by his C.O's daughter.

Baker watched as they materialised in front of him,
seemingly from nothing, the hushed whispers echoing from them all
leant an ethereal quality to their arrival as one by one the seven
other members of the ten man team found their way to him.

'Baker we got contact.'

The resounding crash of a high velocity armour piercing
round being fired echoed throughout the valley. The tortured
screeching of twisting metal assaulted their ears as the vehicle
rolled over the compacted rock strewn dirt of the road way. The
gunner was tossed like a rag doll landing in a broken crumpled heap
seventeen feet from Bakers feet.

A dark russet coloured smear worked it's glistening path
away from the smouldering, twisted wreckage that was once an old
Toyota pick up. Baker dropped to his knee, rifle barking as he
sighted on the on rushing mass of flesh before them.

'They ain't going down, what the fuck?'

Baker growled at Dimi's high toned, squeaking question.
The small Mauritian was the newest addition to the team and the least
clued up; which in situations like this made the rest of the team's
job that much harder.

'Aim for the head; put them down for good.'

Dimi immediately switched his aim, dropping six in the
first salvo. 'How do you know this shit?'

Baker smirked.

'Who do you think sorted out the Abu Naji problem?'

Dimi's eyes bulged, shock skating over his features like
a figure skater over a frozen lake.

'That was you?'

Kingsley slapped Dimi round the head as he fired one
handed with his side arm.

'No, it was Doctor fucking Seuss. Who did you think it
was? Baker was the one called in. Well, him, Rawlings, Bolton, the
Boss and myself but that's besides the fucking point. The point is
shoot, them in the head, anywhere other than their bonce and it's a
waste of time and ammunition. The virus fucks them up so bad they
won't even notice they were hit. Heart shot yeah that'll drop them
sure as shit ain't ice cream, but you try hitting someone in the
heart while they're screaming bloody murder and sprinting at you for
all they're worth. Shoot them in the head first time, every time.
Saves a lot of trouble and ammo.'

As if illustrating his point, Kingsley snapped off three
more rounds, driving the nine millimetre hollow points deep into the
heads of the Infected closest to him.

Rawlings' bolt moved in a blur as
he slid home round after round; every one finding its home inside the
cranium of any Infected he chose. The noise and dust seemed to vanish
as quickly as it appeared, the air shimmering like light behind a
gossamer curtain. The dust swirled and danced in the dimming noon day
sun as it finally began to settle and the road swam into view, the
sight they beheld stunned them all.

Rawlings' voice shivered through the airways making
Baker flinch subconsciously at the sudden intrusion. The sharp static
chopped words were deafening as they shattered the silence that had
enveloped them all.

'What the....Baker, where the hell did they go, I
slotted at least a dozen myself but I can't see a damn thing.'

Baker's fingers drifted to his throat mike as he stepped
forwards, freeing himself from the confines of his covered position.

'Watcher, I have no freaking clue. There's nothing down
here but us, no bodies, no blood, nothing.'