Salby Damned (10 page)

His best mate, partner in crime, and loyal friend hadn't changed so much at all, and it was so good to see him, Nathan thought and shook the proffered hand heartily.

"Last I heard, you were working your way through the female population of Cyprus," Nathan added. He winked as he spoke, knowing that it would have taken something pretty serious to have changed his old friend’s ways.

"Ah, well, you see, I think I finished them all, got myself posted to Afghanistan for a tour or two. Along the way, I met my wife Alisa. We settled down back over here, and then a couple years back, Sam, my son, came along, so the old hound dog had to change his ways, which wasn't a bad thing, I guess."

With a flash of that cheeky boyish grin backing up his statement, he swirled his hand above his head to imitate the invisible halo there.

"It's good to see you, Stewey, or should I call you tiffy now? So what toys do we have to play with?"

"To you, I'll answer to both. I'm not going to insult you by training you on the SA80 or the LMG, you know how to use and maintain both. Most of the guard detail personnel have the SA80, though some have SUSAT scopes on," Chris said.

He used abbreviated Army terms for the standard issue Small Arms 80 rifle, fitted with the Sight Unit Small Arms Trilux scope, a sturdy all-rounder usually reserved for the better shooters in any company, with the LMG being the Light Machine Gun.

The British Army loves to abbreviate things
.

Nathan and Chris had completed cover and concealment, including tactical arms training, together. It had always been a competition between them, to see who could pull off the best shot.

"I am going to give you the low down on these babies though, kindly requisitioned from Catterick Garrison—which means we nicked them, and wait for it, I pulled a few favours to allow me to issue you with one," Chris said, cracking the snap locks on the army green cases to his left and grinning like a clown.

“Allow me to introduce you to the L115A3 AWM state-of-the-art long-range sniper rifle. Isn’t she a beauty?” Chris was barely able to conceal his joy as he handed the weapon over.

It was sleek, lightweight, and felt good to hold, with a built-in bi-pod, iron sight unit, and weaver rail for multiple scope fixings as well as sound and muzzle flash suppressor. This rifle had been well designed, with one purpose in mind.

“I like it. Tell me the specs. I know you’re itching to,” Nathan said, seeing the twinkle in Chris’ eyes.

“What you have is a long-range sniper rifle good for 1400 metres and beyond in fine conditions. It takes a .300 calibre Winchester Magnum round, magazine fed with a capacity of five rounds each. This’ll take a head off from a very long way away. It’s a low-recoil and low-maintenance weapon. Watch me as I fit and remove the mag, operate the safety, and lock and load. You’ll have time to play shortly. You can fit your own scope if you want, though the fences are well floodlit so a night scope probably wouldn’t be of much use on the base,” he surmised.

He showed Nathan how to operate the mag, load and cock the rifle, releasing the safety before a “
click
” sounded as the trigger was pulled. Chris handed it back to Nathan for him repeat the procedure.

“Behind you, Sergeant, you’ll find webbing, a flak jacket, your choice to use it or not, and a Kevlar lid to protect your noggin, though with a nut that thick, I doubt you’ll need it!” Chris said, with a wink to Nate.

“Take five magazines. We’ll sort you a box of rounds to go. Zero your scope in; you can use the indoor range out back. Go easy on the rounds though, we’ve only a limited supply until we can get the Garrison to send more. Here’s a cleaning kit to be going on with. Get yourself set and we’ll hit the range in a half-hour; we’re on stag at 2200 hours. Don’t forget.”

“We’re on stag? Did you say we? I guess you’ll be coming with me then? Did you volunteer, or were you asked politely as I was?” Nathan winked at his friend as he spoke, with only the barest hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Nathan's own rifle had been sent to the armoury along with the Remington for safekeeping. There was no sign of the laptops yet, he thought. Asking Chris to pass him the Sako, Nathan removed the Gnome night scope and disengaged the sight clamp, allowing him to use the day scope. Fitting it to the AWM Sniper Rifle gave him a formidable piece of fighting kit that would not only perform well, but he thought it really looked the part too.

He followed Chris to the indoor range, a long corridor stretching out to the rear of the armoury with several tons of sand at the far end. It had a pulley system in place, to make it easier to refresh used targets, and a sturdy wooden bench with a bulletproof glass shield surrounding it, which served as a firing area. Chris had picked up an array of small tools to assist in the process of scope alignment and to rectify any issues that each of the weapons may have that could have been overlooked. Handing Nathan some army green ear defenders, Chris ushered Nathan towards the main firing bench.

"Throw a block of three down first and then take a look at the grouping. Using the scope click system, you can adjust accordingly. We'll shoot at 100 yards first, then extend to two. If we can zero to that range, it's just a case of mil dot adjustment from there on in. Use the bi-pod for a firmer base."

"Got that!" Nathan confirmed, while pushing rounds into the magazine.

After covering his ears, Chris began the first burst. While the report from the rifle wasn't overly loud, the confined space funnelled the crack from the weapon discharge, making it sound like a firework even through the ear defenders.

Nathan stepped up beside Chris and tapped his shoulder to indicate he was there and would be firing. He rested the weapon on the bi-pod stand, checking the scope for focus, and made final adjustments to the targeting range. While aiming dead centre of the silhouetted chest at the cardboard target, Nathan cocked the rifle, releasing the safety before slowing his breathing, all in a matter of seconds, and on the breath out, held and fired. He felt the rifle buck, but with only a slightly stronger recoil kick than the Sako, he would be able to anticipate it on the next shot.

Nathan could see that the first shot had gone straight and true but slightly right of centre. After lining up to the same spot, he fired again, and then a third round, before clearing the weapon and setting it to rest. Chris had been watching Nathan shoot before removing his ear defenders.

"You've still got it, mate. Not bad for a first try, not bad at all. A little right by the looks of it but elevation is perfect; adjust and send the last two down."

"It's a hell of a weapon, Chris; you can really tune into it, and the shooting position is just about spot on. I'll extend the shoulder butt just an inch maybe."

"I told you it was a beauty," Chris said, smiling and preparing to watch Nathan fire his last two shots. Happy that both weapons were set, they returned to the armoury to collect the remaining kit.

"Webbing you'll need to size to fit you; it's standard issue. Take this too, for CQB, but given what's out there, if you need to use it, you're gonna be pretty screwed," Chris said, handing him a sheathed military combat knife.

Chris had a point about using hand-to-hand fighting in Close Quarter Battle, given the last few encounters he’d had with the infected deadheads.

"That’s you done, Nate. Sign the register for me to book your kit and rifle out. Box of rounds here. At the end of your stag, your weapon comes back here to the lock-up cabinets; you'll be issued a neck chain key. That stays with you and is your responsibility. Don't lose it or I'll have your balls for breakfast!" Chris said, and Nathan knew that he would too, friend or not.

"Thanks, Chris. As precise, professional, and subtle as ever. I'll see you on the fence in a half-hour or so. Gonna go check on the kids first."

"You got kids?" Chris asked, turning to meet Nathan's gaze, surprise in his tone.

"No, mate, they sort of found us on the way here, so we've been taking care of them a while"

"Found us? Is Katelyn with you?"

"I'll tell you all about it on stag; we'll have a couple of hours to kill. Catch you in a bit."

Nathan turned quickly, not wanting his friend to see the flash of pain in his eyes at the mention of Katelyn's name; he knew he'd have to tell Chris later and relive that fateful night one more time.

Nathan fixed the combat knife to his belt, using the adjustable strap at the point of the sheath to fasten the blade firmly to his upper thigh. It would prevent movement when on the ground or running. He adjusted the webbing to fit snugly, loading spare magazines into the pouches at the front, along with an Allen key for the scope mounts, just in case they came loose. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder and carrying the box of rounds, he made his way over to the hangar, now being utilised for indoor sleeping. He used his torch on entry to pick his way through the slumbering bodies occupying the floor space.

***

It took some time to locate his allocated area and find the children, and when he did, he placed the rifle out of sight, just in case either one stirred. They had each been given inflatable single mattresses with covers and a pillow and were sleeping soundly. Nathan bent down to Tom, sliding his leg back under the sheets and covering him over; he kissed the boy’s temple before checking Holly. He shuffled, bending down towards her, pulling the covers over to keep out the night air as she muttered something, not quite awake, perhaps dreaming.

After kissing her forehead, he picked up his rifle and headed to the gatehouse to report for guard duty and to receive orders. Despite the chaos, the children had looked so peaceful in sleep. The gatehouse was a bustle of activity between gunfire and muffled explosions, and the night stag duty was the most active, as it seemed that the deadheads didn't seem to like sunlight. Nathan saw Chris almost immediately and headed over to greet him.

"You and I will be covering the west fence tonight, my mate. We'll be on the towers and in radio contact covering the guard details. If you're ready, let's crack on."

"I'm good to go." Nathan confirmed.

***

At the steps to the tower, Chris handed Nathan a two-way radio.

"If you see anything, sing out and I'll do the same, channel seven. The fence is shallow and semi-circular so we can cover each other if needs be. Don't take chances and shoot to kill, not wound; they were once human, remember, but not now." Chris waved before turning to walk towards his own tower.

"Stay safe, old friend. I've got your back," Nathan shouted after him.

***

Climbing the steps to the small wooden platform over-looking the perimeter fence, Nathan had a good view of the illuminated base. There was a sea of tents of all sizes, some of which had low light emanating from poorly sewn seams, as the revolving workforce of volunteers took up duty, while those coming off shift got some sleep.

Looking down over the fence, Nathan could make out a gap of mown grass about twenty feet wide and surrounding the entire base, then farther outwards to rough ground, which had been littered with scatter anti-personnel mines. Behind that, a substantial tree line with pretty dense foliage would provide cover for any incoming deadhead aggressors.

He scanned, using the rifle’s scope, able to see by the floodlights mounted on the tower, and picked up the fallen bodies of at least three deadheads. Guards had been posted every fifty feet, covering the entire west fence. All were issued with SA80 rifles; males and females stood side-by-side as one force to protect those within the base.

*******

“I am Lieutenant Dr. Evelyn Shepherd 17305050. I need to speak to the Commanding Officer immediately!” Evie's eyes found Nathan’s as she spoke, watching the expression on his face change. She was sure she had seen shock, surprise, even a sense of betrayal in them before they had led her away to the interior offices at the rear of the main block.

The room she'd been ushered into was white-walled and with the barest functional furniture present; a wooden-topped table with a chair facing it, a small side table to her right, and a roll-down white board on an aluminium easel, complete with marker pens. It seemed this room was a meeting or interview room and not used very much. A fine layer of dust had settled on the surface of the table.

It wasn't a long wait before the door opened and she had recognised Captain Devon. Behind him came another officer; Evie noticed the gold crown on each shoulder of the immaculate uniform the man wore. They both came to the opposite side of the desk as she stood, out of respect to the higher ranks before her; no need to salute, as she was not in uniform.

"Lieutenant Shepherd, this is Major Paul Sower, second in command here at the base. I would like you to tell him everything you know up to arriving at the front gates. I have already informed Lieutenant Colonel Connell, who should be making his way back to us shortly. He is currently escorting Dr. Charles Fitzgerald and his team, investigating the wellhead site. Please sit down, Lieutenant."

"Fitz is here? Umm, apologies, Sir, I mean, Dr. Charles Fitzgerald is at the wellhead? Can you tell me how long it will be before he could get back to the base, Sir?" Evie asked.

The major answered this time, and Evie studied the man as he spoke. He has short, military-cropped dark hair, flecked with grey and appeared to be in his late fifties. A wizened, worldly look about him and the lines at the corner of his eyes betrayed a life of hard work and responsibility. Yet, his body still looked remarkably lean. The pressed shirt he wore was meticulously creased at the sleeves, his shoes polished to a mirror shine; she could see he was a man of standards and principles, and when he spoke, it was in a slow measured tone, asserting confidence without trying too hard.

"Lieutenant Shepherd, Paul Sower. You know Dr. Fitzgerald on a personal level, I take it?" The major had picked up on the nickname Evie had used.

"Yes, Sir, I do. He was my tutor and backer through med school and university, and the one who encouraged me to look to the MOD and molecular science as a career."

"Ah, I see. Captain Devon has sent word to Lieutenant Colonel Connell and Dr. Fitzgerald to return to the base as soon as possible. By helicopter, I would expect them to be here within the hour. In the meantime, would you take us through the series of events that led you here, so that we can get a picture of what has happened?" The major's hands interlocked neatly on the tabletop before him.

Evie began at the conference meeting with the SGFC, taking the two officers through the scene and tone of the event, before hearing of the initial explosion at the wellhead site in the early hours of the following morning. She explained that she had been told by residents initially and had driven to the boundary around three to four hours later, unaware at the time of the possible damage to her own facility. While the listening officers were aware of her role within the MOD, the technical information she possessed was classified, even to them, and could only be shared with Lieutenant Colonel Connell or Dr. Fitzgerald. They could then follow the chain of command as they saw fit, in line with the operational need to know orders that Evie followed.

She told them of the involvement of former Sergeant Nathan Cross. She had gathered intelligence on him before making contact, knowing that he would be a good asset for any confrontation between SGFC and herself in any conflict involving her facility. Evie's orders had come directly from the Secretary of Defence some months ago. The files were located in the facility, and her agenda was to prevent the operations of SGFC near the town of Salby, by whatever means possible. She had been given assistance to locate former military personnel in the area that she deemed trustworthy, but they were not to be given any information that would infringe upon or contravene the Official Secrets Act. It was strictly a need to know basis for outsiders, given the sensitive nature of the facility and its deadly stockpile. Nathan Cross was a freelance reporter, and he had connections within the Army, an impeccable service record, and military skills in combat, weapons, and chemical warfare, as well as being handy with a tool box.

He also has some skills that aren't for broadcasting. That information is classified to everyone.

Evie continued after an imperceptible pause as she thought about Nathan's near-naked body wrapped around her, quickly describing the scenes at the wellhead site when they had arrived. She relayed in detail the first contact with the infected souls, the small child attacking Brin Garrett, followed by the dash to escape the deranged, infected engineer. She told them of the plans, maps, and intelligence on the laptops they had taken from the offices and of the plan to make it to Dishforth, picking up survivors along the way.

"You have had quite an adventure, Lieutenant. You must be exhausted by now. When did you last eat and sleep?" The major sounded genuinely concerned.

"It has been awhile for both, Sir, but I really must speak with Dr. Fitzgerald first."

"I understand that, Evelyn," he said, using her first name to make his point and continued in a more paternal tone, "but you'll be of no use to anyone if you collapse through lack of food or sleep. Captain Devon will escort you to the cookhouse for food and will allocate you sleeping quarters within the residential block. This is not a request, Dr. Shepherd. Captain, if you please?"

The major signalled for his officer to escort her; they all rose and Evie resigned herself to her immediate fate.

"The lieutenant colonel and Dr. Fitzgerald should be here within hours. I will see to it personally that you are informed as soon as they touch down."

Major Sower nodded to the captain’s salute and then left the room. The captain saw the dejected look in Evie's eyes. When the door closed behind him, he spoke.

"The major is not unlike the lieutenant colonel; they are both old school and well respected. If he says he'll come and find you, then you can be sure he will do just that, Lieutenant. Now, I have my orders to get you fed and settled, and that is what we're going to do. If you'll follow me, please."

"Yes. Thank you, Captain."

Resigned to following the captain towards the main catering area, Evie managed to look around, and although it was now approaching 2300hrs, the floodlights kept the base well illuminated to the perimeters. The officer pointed out the dormitory hangar, the youngsters’ play area and crèche. He handed her a level nine security pass before leaving her in the queue for much-needed food.

***

With a cottage pie and some strong black coffee, she sat and made a mental note to check the children as soon as she had a minute and to try to explain herself to Nathan. He had been on her mind lately, and she hoped that he would understand why she'd acted in the way that she did. The cookhouse was busy for the hour with endless comings and goings of military and civilian survivors alike. Finishing her meal and returning the plate and fork to be cleaned and re-used, she walked slowly to the residential block, keying in the code assigned to her by Captain Devon to allow access to the front doors.

She found her room a little way along the dimly lit hallway. The walls were an off-white surplus paint colour, contrasting a dark red heavy-duty vinyl floor covering. As she pushed the door open, a musty smell of age met her; the room seemed to have been waiting for years—just for her arrival. Sparsely furnished, with a grey metal-framed single bed on the main wall, feet end centred, it had a functional side cabinet in old hardwood, flecked from previous years of use, upon which had been placed a single white towel. A long sausage-type tubular pillow adorned a single plastic-covered mattress; grey multi-weave blankets had been folded on the top.

Evie perched on the edge of the bed, springs groaning at her meagre weight, and slipped off her shoes, the cool air blissfully caressing her sore feet. The accommodation block had a shared bathroom, although she hadn't seen or heard anyone else. Peeling down to her underwear, she wrapped the towel around herself and padded through her door intent on a long hot soak to ease her tired muscles. It would likely be a couple of hours before Dr. Fitzgerald returned from the wellhead site, so there would be time to wash and possibly even for an hour’s rest.

Peering into the bathroom, she could see that someone had left an almost empty bottle of shampoo on the side of the tub. With a little effort, there would be enough for what she needed, she thought as she turned on the taps, watching as the rising steam danced in swirls into the air. Popping the clasp on her bra and hunching her shoulders to allow the straps to fall forwards, she let gravity take it to the ground at her feet. Wiggling out of the cotton panties, she threw them and the bra into the now piping-hot bath water, watching as they slowly sank to the bottom. Kneeling naked, she swished the water with her hand. She recovered the garments, giving them a quick wash through with just a little of the shampoo before rinsing them out, then ringing them practically dry. She hung them on the towel rail.

With one tentative foot, she slowly climbed into the bath, letting out a “Wahaha!” from the heat of the water. She knelt and eventually sat, her skin slowly turning a crimson red as the therapeutic soak sent the blood rushing around her body, loosening muscles and dissipating tension. Evie took the top off the shampoo bottle, having inverted it before lowering herself into the bath. The shampoo had pooled in the cap, so she poured a portion of it into her free hand, then massaged it into her scalp, feeling the frothy suds foam up with the motion. She used the excess to wash her arms, legs, body, and feet before lying down with the water at her neck.

Resting her head on the back wall, again she found herself thinking about Nathan, kicking herself mentally. She hadn't planned on the intimacy, hadn't planned on any kind of relationship let alone what she felt now. As a half-hearted attempt at self-justification, she thought that he hadn't been completely honest either; he hadn't mentioned his service record, but maybe he took military security seriously too, like her?

When he had kissed her several times the night before, she thought she could feel his tenderness despite the reservation; he wasn’t leading her on, was he? The soothing heat of the water made her eyelids feel like lead. With thoughts of Nathan adding to her sense of well-being, she allowed them to close.

*******