back and looked on open mouthed as Walker shook uncontrollably and head butted the drinks machine several times. Then, very suddenly; he stopped. He stood still for a moment, swaying gently back and forth as concussion slipped into something foreign; something pathogenic and on a sub atomic level. Subsequently, clutching his throat, he began to spin wildly, knocking into upturned furniture and bouncing off the sink unit. He fell to his knees and belched. Vomit unexpectedly exploded from his mouth and showered the sink unit and vending machines in a foul, stinking mix of semi digested granola bar and stomach juices.
Zola pulled himself along the floor as quickly as he could whilst Walker continued to throw up. When Zola reached the Corporal and the Lance Corporal, Walker got to his feet and ran head first at the wall. The force of the hit sent a hollow vibration through the room. He bounced off the stone and collapsed into his own sick; a bubble of blood and snot expanded from his nostril and popped over his top lip in one final dying gesture.
This sudden and violent event could not have lasted more than three minutes.
***
The card swipe for the administration office was caked with dried, flaky blood. This cracked and fluttered to the floor like flecks of paint as the Sergeant frantically pulled the managers key card through the slot. He turned the handle and the door mechanism clicked, allowing it to swing free. Zola let the handle go and pushed the door further with his foot, keeping his M4 reassuringly tucked tightly into his armpit. The beam from the torch attached to the rail platform of his rifle quickly highlighted dinner plate sized aspects of the room; anything moving would be caught by the strong halogen and the red of his laser sight, which cut a path through square dancing particles of dust into
the dead centre of the beam. The room smelt musty, like damp linen; with a slight trace of urine. He saw a small, metal money box that had been picked up and launched at the wall with such energy; it was now wedged into the right angle of the room, about six feet off the floor. Below this, there was the body of a young woman lying on her stomach. Her neck had been broken and her chin rested on her shoulder blade at a crazy angle. Someone had taken a big bite out of her jowl, exposing her teeth and cheek bone. Both legs had been stripped of the flesh from the knees down, and her underwear had been pulled down around her thighs.
Had one of these things tried to rape her? Zola thought with an increasing sense of horror and abhorrence. He threw the notion out of his head and trained the rifle into the far corner, panning the barrel in a smooth left to right motion. Passing over desks and a blood splattered photocopier, he saw on the very fringes of the light, evidence of the major panic that must have ensued when the virus came into this room.
To the right, there was box room with large security windows and a heavy duty door with internal bars. The torch picked out the sign on the door which read CASH OFFICE. Zola nodded and smiled to himself. Surely, the most secure room in the building? He looked back over his shoulder until he picked out the Corporal's disturbed face, backlit by the glowing red of a fresh flare. Zola side stepped into the room. The Corporal placed his boot where the Sergeants foot had been and slipped into the spot vacated by Zola; then, as the Corporal stepped into the room, Xander used his foot to jam the door until he could move into the office and get out of the corridor, shutting the door with his right boot.
Zola motioned towards the woman lying on the floor. Yates caught his breath and flicked his SA80 to single shot. Zola shook his head and put his forefinger to his lips, then let out a soft ssshhhh, before placing his hand on Yates shoulder. “Take it easy,” he whispered, and pointed towards to cash office.
The door needed a Yale type key as well as the card, so
Zola pulled himself along the floor as quickly as he could whilst Walker continued to throw up. When Zola reached the Corporal and the Lance Corporal, Walker got to his feet and ran head first at the wall. The force of the hit sent a hollow vibration through the room. He bounced off the stone and collapsed into his own sick; a bubble of blood and snot expanded from his nostril and popped over his top lip in one final dying gesture.
This sudden and violent event could not have lasted more than three minutes.
***
The card swipe for the administration office was caked with dried, flaky blood. This cracked and fluttered to the floor like flecks of paint as the Sergeant frantically pulled the managers key card through the slot. He turned the handle and the door mechanism clicked, allowing it to swing free. Zola let the handle go and pushed the door further with his foot, keeping his M4 reassuringly tucked tightly into his armpit. The beam from the torch attached to the rail platform of his rifle quickly highlighted dinner plate sized aspects of the room; anything moving would be caught by the strong halogen and the red of his laser sight, which cut a path through square dancing particles of dust into
the dead centre of the beam. The room smelt musty, like damp linen; with a slight trace of urine. He saw a small, metal money box that had been picked up and launched at the wall with such energy; it was now wedged into the right angle of the room, about six feet off the floor. Below this, there was the body of a young woman lying on her stomach. Her neck had been broken and her chin rested on her shoulder blade at a crazy angle. Someone had taken a big bite out of her jowl, exposing her teeth and cheek bone. Both legs had been stripped of the flesh from the knees down, and her underwear had been pulled down around her thighs.
Had one of these things tried to rape her? Zola thought with an increasing sense of horror and abhorrence. He threw the notion out of his head and trained the rifle into the far corner, panning the barrel in a smooth left to right motion. Passing over desks and a blood splattered photocopier, he saw on the very fringes of the light, evidence of the major panic that must have ensued when the virus came into this room.
To the right, there was box room with large security windows and a heavy duty door with internal bars. The torch picked out the sign on the door which read CASH OFFICE. Zola nodded and smiled to himself. Surely, the most secure room in the building? He looked back over his shoulder until he picked out the Corporal's disturbed face, backlit by the glowing red of a fresh flare. Zola side stepped into the room. The Corporal placed his boot where the Sergeants foot had been and slipped into the spot vacated by Zola; then, as the Corporal stepped into the room, Xander used his foot to jam the door until he could move into the office and get out of the corridor, shutting the door with his right boot.
Zola motioned towards the woman lying on the floor. Yates caught his breath and flicked his SA80 to single shot. Zola shook his head and put his forefinger to his lips, then let out a soft ssshhhh, before placing his hand on Yates shoulder. “Take it easy,” he whispered, and pointed towards to cash office.
The door needed a Yale type key as well as the card, so
Similar Books
