For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (36 page)

We
flew over one of the besieged houses again, causing the infected to look skyward
as they searched for the source of the noise. As soon as we’d passed, they
returned their attention to the building, and renewed their assault.

‘I
know you’re not going to like it, but how about we ask Gordon? The marines could
be down here in a couple of hours. They’ve got the guns and they’re trained to
do just this sort of thing.’

‘I’m
really not sure about that. Isn’t this something we should be handling
ourselves?’

‘They’re not as bad as you think. Gordon realises they screwed up when they
first arrived: they misread the situation.’ I looked down as the last of the
island slid below us and we headed back out to sea, the white caps of the wave
shining against the deep blue. ‘All he wants to do is work with us, not against
us, and if they’re willing to risk their lives to help rescue people, then I
don’t think we should hold that against them.

‘I
guess not.’

‘So
where are the survivors trapped?’ Gordon was poring over a map he’d spread out
on his desk while Nick stood beside him. Mitch and I had arrived at the Rhum
community a few minutes before and as soon as we’d explained the situation,
Gordon had offered to mount a rescue mission.

Mitch
pointed to the map. ‘There’s one here, another here, and the third’s further up
the coast, here.’

Nick
examined the map closely. ‘How many infected did you see?’

‘There’s maybe eighty or ninety in all, mostly around the buildings where the
survivors are, but there are others scattered across the island.’

Nick
straightened up. ‘That shouldn’t be anything we can’t handle.’

‘We’ll
fly down with you. We can keep a look out and tell you where the infected are.’

Gordon
smiled at Mitch. ‘That’d certainly be useful.’

Nick
seemed less keen on the idea. ‘I’m sure we can manage on our own.’

Gordon
glared at him. ‘We might as well take the help if it’s there. Now, go get the
men ready.’

‘Yes,
sir
!’ With that Nick turned and left the room, slamming the door behind
him.

Mitch
stared after him. ‘Was it something I said?’

‘Don’t
worry about him,’ Gordon replied dismissively, ‘he can be a bit prickly
sometimes. He just doesn’t like civilians telling him what he should be doing.’

Mitch
snorted. ‘He doesn’t seem to have a problem trying to give us orders.’

‘Yes,
I’ve had a word with him about that; well, with all the men. I’ve told them they
need to start thinking of everyone else who’s survived this far as their equals
and not as people they can order around.’ Gordon stood up. ‘Come to think of it,
that might have something to do with his attitude, too.’

I
pressed the transmit button on the plane’s VHF radio. ‘Gordon, there’s a small
group of infected coming along the road from your left.’

‘Roger
that.’ There was a burst of static, followed by ‘How far?

I hit
the transmission button again. ‘About half a mile or so.’

‘We
should be out of here before they arrive.’

Mitch
tapped me on the shoulder and pointed off to the north where a larger group of
infected were now heading towards the house below where we were circling.

We’d
been over Iona for almost an hour, watching Gordon, Nick and the rest of the
marines as they took on the infected. So far, things had gone well and a total
of ten survivors had been rescued from two of the houses surrounded by infected.
It was amazing to watch the marines in action. They moved with efficiency and
ruthlessness, dropping those with the disease in a hail of bullets before they
even knew the marines were there. The survivors had been led down to the shore
and taken out to a fishing boat which was tied to a mooring in the main harbour.
One of the marines had got the engine started and they’d chugged off along the
coast after the ribs, heading for the last building where survivors were holed
up.

Gordon
and the remaining marines were now approaching the third house. This had the
largest number of infected crowding round it, and to make matters worse, we
could see more streaming towards them.

I
picked up the mike again. ‘Gordon, there’s a group of five coming in from the
north and …’ I twisted in my seat so I could see over my shoulder. ‘And about
twenty coming up from the south.’

‘Roger
that.’ There was a shout in the background. ‘Keep us updated on their
movements.’

‘Will
do.’ I let go of the transmission button as Mitch circled the plane back round
and we watched the first of the infected fall as the marines moved in, but this
time things didn’t go quite as smoothly as before. With a greater number of
infected, it wasn’t as easy to shoot them all before they realised the marines
were there, and within a few seconds, infected were racing towards them: mouths
wide, screaming and roaring. With unfathomable speed, the first of the infected
crossed the ground between the house and the dry stone wall which the marines
had been using for cover, but they didn’t panic. Instead, they systematically
targeted whichever infected were closest at any given moment. Although some fell
instantly, it was harder to hit targets which were moving so fast and most took
several shots to bring them down.

Below
us, I saw one of the marines take his assault rifle from his shoulder and
desperately pull at the bolt, fighting frantically to unjam it. There was a
shout, audible even above the sound of the plane’s engine, and the struggling
marine looked up as a skinny man leapt onto the wall in front of him. He dropped
the machine gun and grabbed for his pistol, but before he could fire, the man
was on top of him. Suddenly, the infected’s head exploded, and the marine pushed
the now lifeless body to the ground. I watched as he put his hand to his neck,
then inspected it, staring disbelievingly at the bright red liquid dripping from
his fingers. He put his hand on his neck again as first comprehension and then
terror spread across his face.

A
stillness descended across the battlefield, and now all that moved were the
marines as they stood up slowly, examining their surrounding for any hint of
further danger, but for the moment, there was none. Spotting the injured man,
Nick lowered his machine gun and strode over to him. He crouched down beside
him, and patted him on the shoulder before picking up the man’s pistol from
where he’d dropped it. At first, I thought Nick was going to hand it back to
him, but I was wrong. As Nick pushed it against the injured man’s forehead, the
young man realised what was about to happen. He struggled backwards desperately,
trying to get away, but before he got more than a few feet, there was a flash
from the muzzle and he went limp.

‘Jesus!’ I swallowed hard. ‘D’you see what Nick just did?’

‘No, I
was too busy watching them.’ Mitch pointed ahead, where infected were racing
towards the house in ever-increasing numbers; the first were only 100 yards
away. Pushing what Nick had just done from my mind, I grabbed the mike. ‘Gordon,
you’ve got to get out of there. There’s a whole heap of infected coming your
way. You need to get those people and get out of there!’

Gordon
must have heard me because I saw him signal to two marines, who rushed forward
towards the house. Even before they got there, the door opened and people
started pouring out. Leaving their dead colleague where he lay, the rest of the
marines guided the shocked survivors towards where the ribs floated a few feet
from the shore, ready to ferry them out to the waiting fishing boat. The
distance they needed to cover wasn’t great, but some of the survivors were
elderly, others were children, and this slowed their progress. With the infected
closing in, there was little we could do but watch. Occasionally, one of the
marines would turn and fire, but for the most part they just ran.

I
looked, horrified, at Mitch. ‘They’re not going to make it. We’ve got to do
something.’

Mitch
stared at the scene unfolding below us. ‘What?’

‘I
don’t know,’ I shifted in my seat, trying to get a better view, ‘but we’ve got
to do something.’

‘Hang
on, I’ve got an idea.’ Mitch pushed the stick forward, and almost immediately we
were diving towards the ground. The moment before impact, she levelled the
plane, and we sped, just a few feet above the ground, towards the infected.

Bracing myself against the back of my seat, I turned to Mitch. ‘Just what
exactly is this plan of yours?’

‘You’ll see.’ She tensed up. ‘Hold on!’

I felt
the heavy floats hanging below the plane smash into the infected with a series
of sickening thuds. Glancing down, I saw them sprawled across the ground: some
struggled back to their feet, but others were clearly dead, heads smashed beyond
all recognition.

Mitch
pulled back on the stick as we turned. I tried to keep an eye on what was
happening below, but I was forced back into my seat as we climbed almost
vertically. A second later, we were heading for the ground again. Mitch pulled
back on the stick and we skimmed towards the infected once more. We’d taken them
by surprise the first time, but this time they knew we were coming; yet they
didn’t try to escape: instead they sprinted towards the speeding plane, drawn by
the noise of the engine, giving those on the ground the few extra seconds they
needed to escape.

I felt
the plane judder as we made contact for a second time; sending infected flying
in all directions and blood spraying across the windows. As we climbed again,
this time more slowly, I saw the survivors clambering into the ribs as the
marines pushed them away from the beach. I looked back at the scene of
devastation we’d left behind, amazed that despite all the infected, only one of
the marines had been lost. At first, the remaining infected ran as fast as they
could after the rapidly departing plane, but gradually they slowed, and then
stopped; my last glimpse was of them standing amongst the low, scrubby
vegetation, almost motionless, gazing blankly after us.

With
everyone now safely off the island, Mitch brought the seaplane down onto the
water and taxied over to the fishing boat, reaching it just before the ribs. I
flung the door open and stepped out onto the right-hand float, trying not to
slip on the blood and gore spattered across it. I greeted the approaching
marines. ‘That looked pretty hairy.’

‘Nothing we couldn’t handle.' Nick stared at me, fists clenched, bristling with
anger. ‘Just as well your little stunt didn’t get in our way.’

This
wasn’t the reaction I’d expected and I didn’t know how to respond. If it hadn’t
been for Mitch distracting the infected, there was a good chance a lot more of
them would have ended up dead.

‘Nick,
this is not the time or the place. Keep it civil.’ Gordon turned to me. ‘Sorry
about that, Ben. We lost someone back there and everyone reacts in their own way
when that happens.’ Gordon reached out a hand. ‘Thanks for your help.’

I
shook it and then watched as the fishing boat, accompanied by the ribs, headed
off into the distance. As I climbed back into the seaplane, an uneasy feeling
settled over me. The way Nick had killed one of his own men, seemingly without a
second thought, and his response to Mitch’s actions made me glad that it was
Gordon, rather than him, who was in charge of the Rhum community.

Chapter
Seventeen

‘I
know you don’t like it, but they really put themselves on the line to rescue
those people on Iona, and I think it’s the least we can do.’ I glanced at
Claire. ‘Anyway, it’ll give you a chance to hear what Gordon has to say for
himself.’

When
we got back from Iona, Mitch and I had filled the others in about what had
happened. While everyone was pleased the rescue mission had gone so well, there
was a lot of concern about how the disease had got onto the island in the first
place. It seemed the sea hadn’t acted as the impregnable barrier we’d always
assumed it would, and suddenly everyone felt less secure, even in the most
distant island communities.

However, there was also much less resentment towards the naval personnel, and
what they were trying to do on Rhum. The survivors from Iona had already moved
there and there were mutterings amongst other communities that perhaps this
wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

In
order to make the most of this easing of tensions, Mitch and I had arranged for
Gordon and some of the marines to come down to Tobermory that evening for some
much needed socialising. We thought it might be a way to bring everyone together
and put the initial friction between the locals and the naval personnel to rest,
once and for all.

Gordon
readily agreed, both because he, too, thought it would help to bring our two
groups closer together, and  because it would give him the chance to speak to
Claire about his idea for creating a well-equipped medical clinic, to encourage
the remaining survivors to relocate to Rhum.

Claire, needless to say, was dubious about the benefits of getting everyone
together, and she was particularly against the idea of having to listen to
Gordon and his plans. ‘I’m just saying that I can’t think of anything Gordon
could say that would change my mind.’ She stood up and leant on the guard rail.
’I know it would be good to have access to some proper equipment and drugs, but
I don’t think it’s something worth giving up our independence for.’ She turned
back to face me again. ‘If we decided to set up camp there, and then we change
our minds, do you really think they’re going to let us just get up and leave?’