28 Weeks Later
One More Chance
Chapter 4
Night fell on the British Isles just as it had every night for millions upon millions of years. Above, stars twinkled, uncaring that the people of Earth were wading through one of their darkest and most troubling times in history.
Medieval Europe lost an estimated twenty-five million to the Black Death. Were those still alive fortunate or not because there was no way to know how many people had died from the rage virus, directly or indirectly? In Doyle's mind, this was so much worse that the plague because it was happening now and it was happening to him.
From the window of a mansion grand enough to have been a summer cottage for the royal family, Doyle looked up at the sky. During the day, it had been a dazzling electric blue, cloudless and seeming to extend into infinity. The paler color gave way first to the blue on the Dallas Cowboy's logo. Soon, it would change to a dark blue that was almost black sprinkled with pinpoints of light. By that time, they would've already barricaded themselves in the home.
The owner, long dead they presumed, must have been paranoid that someone would break in because it was a fortress. Twelve-foot concrete walls and huge metal slabs that could be dropped into place over the windows and doors, with the touch of a few buttons or manually. The power was out and they hadn't been able to bring the generators so the group split up into teams to pull down the barriers and lock them into place.
Doyle placed Gracie in Ruby's care until his share of the work was done. The older woman and Lukas had prepared the evening meal, and everyone was too tired to give up even a token complaint for the unimaginative fare.
Thinking of the Cowboys caused Doyle to wonder how his favorite football team, the New York Jets, was faring, or if they'd even been able to finish the season. No one knew for certain how widespread the virus had become. For all they knew, most of the world could have killed each other in a bloody, rage-induced battle to the death and they were all that was left. All they could do was hope.
The day after he'd come out of the coma, Max had spouted a bunch of gibberish about genetics, how the immune system worked and how anyone found to be immune would be the salvation of the human race. Doyle didn't understand most of it, but let Max think he did.
Footsteps echoing in the enormous entry hall returned his attention to his job: closing the heavy metal shutters in this part of the home. The doc had warned him that his ability to focus on the job might be impaired until his body returned to normal. He slammed the metal into place and locked it down, muttering a curse under his breath and glancing around guiltily in case Ruby had heard him saying something bad within Gracie's hearing. It would take a while, but his "soldier's vocabulary" should clean up about the time Gracie left for college…if he let her out of his sight for that long. As guardian of a baby girl, all boys automatically became jerks. Not that they weren't before, but now it was for a different reason.
He turned to face Ruby holding the baby that he'd taken on as his responsibility at the graveside of her mother. The bottle in her other hand told him it was feeding time again. He accepted the tiny bundle, shifting her around until he felt secure then took the offered bottle.
Ruby brushed her fingers over the downy soft hair on the top of Gracie's head. "Tomorrow we'll teach ye t' mix th' formula and bathe th' wee one."
Together they walked to the nursery that had been appropriated for Doyle and Gracie's use. "My brothers all have kids, so I have an idea, but I'll need help, at least to start."
Smiling indulgently, Ruby struck a match and put it to the wick of an oil lamp. Lifting it high, she led the way to the crib set up in the corner. "All new parents do. We found this room filled with clothes, toys, furniture. Everything anyone would need t' raise a happy and healthy baby, and then some. Pity they're all gone now."
Choosing the rocking chair in front of the cold fireplace, Doyle used his foot to put it in motion while Ruby watched from one of the two child-sized beds. "Would you stay in case I have questions?"
"That's th' plan." Pillows and bed linens were piled on the ends of the beds. Getting to her feet with grunt, the older woman made up the beds, leaving a blanket folded on the foot of the one Doyle would be using. By the time she returned to his side, Gracie had finished her bottle.
"Burp?" he asked.
"Aye." She passed him a thick cloth. "Once that's done, she'll be off t' th' land o' nod straight away."
Doyle gently rubbed Gracie's back until she let out a belch that would've impressed his squad, filling him with pride. "Good girl!"
He changed her diaper, and a few minutes later, she was asleep. Getting to his feet, he carefully laid her in the bed propped on her side with a cushion made just for that purpose to prevent her from rolling over onto her stomach. He heard somewhere it helped prevent crib death. It wasn't cold, but he still tucked a blanket over the small body.
Rolling the crib closer to his bed, he lay down on his left side, reaching through the bars to touch Gracie's tiny hand, more to comfort himself than her. His body needed rest but refused to let him sleep more than a few hours at a time so he took long shifts guarding the people he'd sworn to protect. Just because he was likely the only Delta Force member to survive this mission didn't mean he could sidestep his responsibilities. It was his duty and he would do it to the best of his ability. It gave him purpose.
The pain in his upper back and right bicep throbbed with every beat of his heart, every movement he made, but he could handle it because he had to. In his head, he went over the map of Ireland, determined to choose the best path to reach the CDC's research center alleged to be in Dublin without getting them all killed. The virulence of the virus was such that the military guarding the facility would likely shoot first and not bother with questions until everyone was dead. By then it would be too late.
He remembered Scarlett mentioning that the kids, Andy and Tammy, were immune. Hopefully, he'd find the siblings, and Flynn, at the center with a cure just days away. At the abandoned carnival, Andy, paralyzed with fear, had needed a distraction, and putting him in charge of keeping his sister safe had done the trick. Doyle remembered smelling the stench of fear coming off Andy in waves. The boy wasn't just afraid. He was terrified, and Doyle didn't blame him. He was afraid too, but didn't let it stop him from doing what had to be done.
The strain of making decisions for the group combined with his injuries, withdrawal from the drugs and suddenly becoming the guardian to a tiny baby took their toll. Doyle finally fell into a deep and, thankfully, restful sleep only to be jerked awake an unknown amount of time later when Gracie started whimpering. To him it sounded like she was about to wake up, and sure enough, she was gearing up for a scream-fest.
To keep her from waking Ruby, he picked the baby up, cuddling her close as he walked to the far end the room, whispering soothing words she couldn't possibly understand. When that didn't work, he checked the time. She wasn't due for another feeding for two hours. A quick diaper check ruled that out as the reason for her agitation. "Don't worry, Gracie. Things are gonna get easier, and we'll get through it together. I'll probably make some mistakes, but I'll try to keep it under let's say seven hundred fifty. What d'you think?"
Still, she fussed, though it stopped short of actual crying. Not knowing what else to do, he hummed the tune his words brought to mind, and that helped a little. Moving her from his right to his left shoulder so she could feel his heartbeat and the vibrations of his chest, he began to sing very softly, continuing to pace as far from Ruby as he could get without leaving the room.
O-o-h child, things are gonna get easier.
O-o-h child, thing'll get brighter.
O-o-h child, things are gonna get easier.
O-o-h child, thing'll get brighter.
Someday we'll get it together and we'll get it undone.
Someday when the world is much brighter.
Someday we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun.
Someday when the world is much lighter.
Doyle didn't have a great voice, but Gracie seemed to like it as she went back to sleep, tiny puffs of air hitting the side of his neck as she breathed. He might not have felt it if it weren't for the still healing edge burned spot.
All the times he'd begged off playing with his nieces and nephews made him wonder if what he was experiencing was anything like what his brothers felt when their children were born and they held the tiny life in their hands for the first time. Felt the beat of a small heart against his hand when he touched her chest. This sensation was like no other, and nearly indescribable. Only another parent would understand.
They'd only been together a couple of days, but now, at this moment, he truly felt like a father.
~~O~~
Gesturing for the others to hurry, Max entered the Master bedroom of the mansion and softly closed the door. Drawing them as far from the doors and windows as possible, he lowered his voice forcing his cohorts to lean in to hear.
"We have to make this quick because Doyle will be back from his perimeter check very soon. It's imperative that the Sergeant not be told that he's immune to the rage virus. He's our best chance to reach the CDC, as well as the best hope for humanity's survival. Whenever possible, the risks to his health must be minimized. For a while, he might accept a medical reason, but that won't last much longer.
"Also, this won't be a popular opinion, and I accept that, but every one of us is expendable except Doyle." He met each person's gaze boldly. Alfie, as always, just stared back as if the events of the world meant little to him. The young man had scrounged gum from somewhere and was always working his jaws. "Yes, even Gracie, though I pray each day that it won't come to that."
Lukas and Clover were the only other members of the group who knew of Doyle's immunity. The retired German businessman still spoke little English though Doyle was helping with that.
"Under no circumstances are any of you to speak of this even if you think you're alone. Doyle is a soldier first and foremost. Capable of sneaking up on you without making a sound."
Ruby shifted in her seat bringing Max's attention to her. "I'm guessin' it's not a secret that we don't agree with ya."
Shaking his head, Max rubbed the back of his neck. "When we finally tell him the truth, I'll take all the heat, but until then…"
The sound of boots in the hall followed by Doyle's voice startled a gasp out of Lucy, Collin and Waverly. "Doc? Ruby? You up here?"
Finger to his lips, Max led the way to the huge walk-in closet in the corner. They could hear Doyle opening doors as he went, calling out their names. Then the old metal doorknob on their sanctuary rattled as it creaked open too quickly for everyone to get into the closet, leaving Waverly and Alfie in the middle of the room. Max, the last one in shrugged to tell Alfie to make something up. The young man nodded just as the closet door clicked shut.
~~O~~
One of the newbies-Doyle still couldn't remember his name-told him that Max and Ruby had gone upstairs on some unknown errand. They were close to the same age, but Doyle just couldn't see them engaging in a quick round of slap and tickle while they were supposed to be inventorying the supplies and making a list of what to take with them when they left.
Still carrying his BFG slung over his shoulder, Doyle knocked on each door, poking his head in just in case. All the rooms were empty except for the nursery where Gracie slept with Clover dozing on the toddler's bed nearby. He was about to give up when the scuff of feet on carpeting drew him to the Master suite at the end of the hall.
He slowly opened the door a crack, ready to slam it shut if he saw something he shouldn't. But what he did see made him furious. The door crashed against the wall as Doyle stormed into the room, just managing to keep from raising his weapon and aiming it at the two people wrestling on the bed. "What the hell are you doing?"
Alfie and Waverly were on the bed making out. At his intrusion, they both displayed wide-eyed shock, not bothering to answer the rhetorical question. They jumped off the bed, standing beside it, the girl looking more embarrassed than Alfie who didn't appear to be discomfited at all. The young people were fully dressed, but still, Waverly was only fifteen while Alfie was twenty-two. He didn't know the laws in England, but in the US that was considered statutory rape, and he would not allow it to happen on his or anyone else's watch.
Awkwardly, the pair straightened their clothes. To increase the discomfort, Doyle looked from one to the other hoping that the silence would make them talk so he wouldn't have to start the conversation. No such luck. His voice soft, yet tinged with anger, Doyle ordered, "Waverly, go downstairs and wait for me. I need to have a few words with Alfie alone."
Nodding, Waverly shot Alfie a glance and a shrug as she left the room. Doyle faced the young man again, reining in his anger with difficulty. "I'm gonna say this once and only once 'cause I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Stay away from both girls. They're too young to be getting involved with anyone let alone someone your age who should know better."
Lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry, the soldier softened his mask of wrath a little. "The birth control in the stores is probably all expired, son. Even if you had it, why take the risk? From now on, keep it in your pants or I'll..."
~~O~~
Holding their laughter with difficulty, the group hiding in the closet listened to Alfie stand there and take a dressing-down from Doyle in which the solder told Alfie in graphic detail what he'd do to him if he went near either of the girls again.
Peeking through the crack, Ruby watched the poor lad take everything that the soldier dished out without expression. Doyle finally stopped, for breath or because he was done, no one could tell…until he spoke again, "…you get my drift, pal?"
Alfie calmly took a stick of gum from his pocket, unwrapped it and shoved it in his mouth, chewing it and Doyle's words over. "No touchy the girls or you'll kick my arse. Don't need to throw a wobbler. Not like she was sayin' no. 'Sides, it was a one off."
It was the most words Alfie had said all at once since Ruby had met him. That he'd saved up to tell Doyle off surprised them all. He'd taken one for the team and tonight that boy would be getting a special treat for dessert. From the way he'd been eying the leftovers at every meal, he had to still be hungry, especially after working hard all day. Probably used to eating hearty especially in the evening time. The boy might be skinny, but he was strong and never complained about the amount of work he was asked to do. Not to mention that he hadn't deserved the talking-to Doyle had given him. To go by his expression, Doyle wasn't confused by Alfie's turn of phrase.
"Good. I'll be talking to her as well." Doyle paused a moment, his attitude softening. He put a hand on Alfie's shoulder giving it a light squeeze. "Sorry I came down so hard on you. This whole situation has everyone reaching out to anyone who might provide even a moment's comfort, and that's okay. Just don't take chances that could come back and bite us all in the…arse. Okay?"
Doyle said the last with an ironic twist to his lips to let the boy know he still considered them friends.
Still chewing the gum and watching Doyle without expression, Alfie shrugged and nodded, finally smiling for the first time. "Here I was thinkin' you was off yer trolley, 'n all 'cause me 'n Waves was just havin' a bit of snog."
Doyle led the way to the door. "You might be right about the first part, and you're absolutely right about the second part. And I do mean it, Alfie. Stay away from the girls. I don't know the age of consent here, but as far as those girls are concerned, we might as well be living in a monastery. What you do with anyone else is up to you and her, but until then, the safety of this group is my responsibility."
"Gotcher. No worries, Sarge."
~~O~~
When they reached the top of the stairs and started down, Doyle remembered why he'd made the trip in the first place. "Hey, did you see Max or Ruby? Someone said they were up here, but I can't find 'em."
The boy shook his head. "Naw. Waves and me come up here for some alone time. They're probably havin' a dust-up in the kitchen again."
Alfie bounced down to the bottom of the long, curved staircase, whistling as he went. Doyle recognized it as a love song popular in the US about a decade ago. Shaking his head and chuckling, the soldier started his search again, not seeing his friends coming down the stairs and scattering, most to their respective chores.
Passing an open window, Doyle saw Collin, Oscar, Murphy and Archer walking to the vehicles parked in the massive driveway. What puzzled him was that they'd left to do routine maintenance over an hour ago and it looked like they were just getting started. About to go have a talk with them, he stopped when Gracie began to cry, torn between needed to know what was going on and taking care of the child.
The crying slowed and stopped meaning that Clover was taking care of the problem leaving him to handle this other issue. He'd just reached the entry hall when he saw Waverly talking to Lucy and Florence. The women saw him and scattered.
With the BFG slung over his shoulder, he followed Waverly down the hall toward the back of the house, catching up with her near the back door. "Can we talk?"
"About me 'n Alfie."
"Yes. I'm not your father, but…"
The girl had the good sense to be embarrassed. "'S okay, Sergeant Doyle. My mum and dad died in the first go-round while I was on holiday in Spain with friends. Guess I've gone a bit wonky since then. And don't worry. Won't be snoggin' with Alfie again soon."
The look on her face was one of mild disgust making Doyle want to laugh, but he didn't. "That bad, huh?"
"He's, ya know, a bit of, well, not much of a talker, he is." Waverly's blush deepened. "Tell the truth, it was m' first real snog with a bloke."
Leveling his gaze at her she would know he was serious, Doyle said, "Let's make it your last until you're at least eighteen, if I'm around that long."
Looking down at her feet, Waverly held her dark brown hair off her face and nodded. "'Course, Sergeant Doyle. Um, I gotta go switch out with Clover sittin' with the babe."
"Go ahead." She started away, stopping at the door when he called out, "And thanks for helping. This being a parent stuff is hard."
"No worries. I'm thinkin' you're doin' alright…for a newb."
The girl scurried away before he could say another word, leaving him thinking that he'd get a handle on talking to kids one day. Maybe by the time Gracie was a teen. By then, nothing he learned now would work.
~~O~~
The sun began its slow trek to the west horizon on their third day in the mansion. Doyle had wanted to leave that morning, but Max thought they should stay a couple more days now that he was actually sleeping more than a few of hours at a time. Unless Gracie woke up then Doyle would be awake so fast, it was funny. Like the other night.
Max had gone to the kitchen for something to drink after checking on one of a group they'd picked up the day before arriving at the mansion. Jill, twenty-something woman who wouldn't give her last name-kept saying she was sick, but Max couldn't find anything wrong with her aside from malnourishment and dehydration. He figured she just wanted someone to take care of her. They were staying at least one more night after this so Max indulged her. Tomorrow, he'd have Doyle talk with her. Maybe the attentions of their leader would convince her she needed to pull her own weight or be left behind. Not that Doyle would do that, but it couldn't hurt to make her think so. At least for now.
Now that he thought about it, no one in that group had given a last name. Max supposed it wasn't that unusual. Not many people cared about who you were before the virus had struck. All that mattered is that you'd somehow managed to survive. And survival wasn't always of the fittest. Sometimes it just meant you'd gotten lucky or had a bigger stick than someone else. Or as Doyle put it, you were smart enough to bring a gun to a knife fight.
As for Gracie, taken from her mother's arms to live with strangers, the baby was too young to remember anything. It was a good thing, but still, there could be lasting effects. Max had faith in Doyle's ability to handle the girl with the right amount of firmness and sensitivity. More faith than the man had in himself. While Doyle was strong, decisive, clear-sighted, and determined in front of others, in private, he seemed uncertain that he was meant to lead this jumble of characters with vastly different ages, cultures, personalities, beliefs and opinions. Instead of laughing when the soldier voiced his doubts, Max had nodded sagely and said, "Now you're thinking like a leader."
What had made Max laugh was Doyle's response. The soldier had invited the doctor to perform an anatomically impossible act…with himself.
~~O~~
Doyle was just sitting down to give Gracie her evening bottle when a pair of the newbies came pounding down the hall. Hearing their voices, he searched his memory and came up with the names: John and Danny. A mismatched set of bookends, John was in his thirties, not fit, but not in the worst shape. Danny was twenty-eight and looked like he spent all day every day plowing the back forty.
Shaking his head, Doyle was still mystified that most of the people they came across readily accepted him as the chief cook and bottle washer. Even those who joined up along the way. Some stayed, and a few didn't seem to care for the regimen he enforced as a way to keep everyone from dwelling too much on their past, current and future situations. To those few, they all bid good riddance.
Following one such occurrence, Doyle had personally escorted the three men off the premises. It had been after finding out that their only reason for knocking on the barricaded front gate was because they thought there would be lots of women pining for men to give them physical comfort. One of them, a guy named Vince, had even tried to assault Lucy when he caught her coming out of the makeshift shower Oscar had built using the stream.
Doyle, Max, Oscar, Collin, Ruby, Lukas and Flo had all come running at the sound of fighting to find Vince on the ground while Lucy held the towel around her with one hand while using a tree branch to hit Vince with the other. All of which had started with her knee making hard contact with Vince's cojones. Doyle had taken the man away from the group in order to have a talk, but his pals, Roy and Milo had joined them without invitation. And between the three of them all talking at once, Doyle had reached his limit. His temper, short at the best of times though he'd learned to rein it in, had been further reduced by his battle with withdrawal.
Knowing that he sounded like he was having a breakdown, he called them more than a few choice names and expelled them from the protection of the fortress to fend for themselves. Not completely cold-hearted, he did give them enough supplies to last several days. After that, they were on their own. Afterward, he'd muttered, "Now I feel better," and went to feed Gracie.
Every time he opened his mouth to give an order, he remembered what Max had told him when asked what he would've done.
"Giving orders is easy. Having the smarts to know which person is right for which job, whether they know it or not, is what makes you a good leader. Just keep going the way you are and we'll be better than fine. Sure, some resent that a Yank is in charge, and that you're telling them what to do. But that's okay because being a leader means you're not going to be popular with everyone. And it's not your job to be liked. It's your job to lead. So get out there and lead."
Gracie squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose, making the noise that told him she was going to scream loud enough to wake the dead if he didn't put a stop to the shouting and running in the entry hall.
Getting to his feet, he moved the baby from being cradled in the crook of his right arm to lying over the same shoulder so he could have his strong left arm free just in case. Ruby and Lukas had come running at the commotion and more joined the ensuing chaos making Doyle want to just scream at them all to shut the **** up, dammit! Clover and Waverly joined them just in time for him to demand, "Why the…hades are you making so much…noise?"
The pauses were to stop himself from saying one of the words that would get him in trouble with Ruby. A few looked like they'd seen a ghost, but he wagered it was something worse.
Danny's jaw was set in an angry line. "Them wassocks're back again, Sarge."
John finished for him, "'N they brought a bunch o' grotty ol' pratts with 'em."
Again, Danny spoke. "They're armed up and ready for a fight so let's give 'em one!" He hefted his weapon, his pockets bulging with ammo. Not a BFG, but deadly nonetheless.
Doyle's eyes danced from one face to the other. All looking to him to tell them what to do. Even the older men who had been in the military when Doyle had been chasing girls around the playground with a frog. Now here they all were, decades later, impatiently waiting for him to save their a**es.
Sonofa****! If they'd waited another thirty-six hours, we'd've been gone. They want a fight, huh? No problem! We'll give 'em one.
"Girls, take Gracie to the panic room in the basement." He passed the baby over to Waverly. "Doc, Sunny. I want you in there too. Oscar, Ruby and Flo, take Jill, Race, Simon and Billy. Don't let anyone near them."
While the others rushed to follow his orders, Max stayed behind. "Sergeant, I need to help."
"You need to do as you're told, Doctor."
"But…"
Doyle uttered an expletive that would've gotten his mouth washed out with soap and his a** grounded for a month if his mother-or Ruby-heard it as the room rang with the harshly uttered word. His troops were stunned into silence. "I don't have time to explain myself. Go! Stay with the girls. Keep the door locked until you get the all-clear."
Turning his back on Max in dismissal, knowing he would be obeyed, Doyle spoke to Lukas in German then accepted ammo from Gordon with Jasper, Murphy and Archer passing out rifles. The older man took possession of a rifle not much smaller than Doyle's BFG, hustled down the hall with John and Danny on his six. The rest of the group paid them no mind. Those three were their ace in the hole. "Everyone remember their posts? Good. Go! Radios on tack two. They weren't here long enough to get to know the routine, so hopefully they're not expecting much resistance."
Alfie, who'd been standing at the back of the group, slapped a helmet over his longish hair, buckled the chin strap and hefted his weapon, a sharpshooter rifle with a scope. He also had a bandolier of flashbangs and grenades across his boney chest. "Bleedin' arseholes! We should give them gits what-for!"
Apparently, now that he'd begun to talk, there was no stopping him. With a terse nod, Doyle said, "You heard the man! Let's go!"
TBC
A/N: "O-o-h Child" is a 1970 single recorded released by the Five Stairsteps. It was released on the Buddah label and was written by Stan Vincent.