Monday 2300 hrs.
Philip threw himself down the stairs taking them three at a time heedless of the dark and the speed of his descent.
His sons scream still ringing in his head he misjudged the number of stairs from the first to the ground floor, his foot hitting the flat wooden floorboards of the hallway instead of the other step he imagined was there. He felt the impact jar up the length of his leg and slammed across into a wall opposite.
Landing heavily he felt the breath momentarily sucked from his lungs.
He couldn't rest.
He pushed himself off the flat surface and burst through the partly open door taking the room beyond in at a glance.
His son hid under the table in the far corner of the room eyes wide and staring in the gloom coming in from the window. He swung his head in the direction the boy was staring and froze feeling his heart jump up into his throat.
The figure there stood in darker shadow, its back to the open back door leading from the kitchen. One arm was raised the hand at the end huge and deformed looking.
Although Philip couldn't see its face he knew it was staring straight at him. It took a step towards him its other hand raising itself into the air.
Philip stepped back a pace, his back re-closing the door that he had just come through. He lifted both hands to ward off the attack that he knew was on its way.
One of his hands looked strange.
It took him a few seconds to figure out why.
Idiot, he forgot all about the gun.
He held it in a hand that shook just a little and reached out as far as he could. Taking just the merest fraction of a second to aim, he pulled the trigger.
Something hit the floor with a clang at the figures feet.
Two things happened almost simultaneously.
The hammer on the gun hit the live round underneath it and the shadow in front of him shouted.
'NO!'
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
The soldier ducked back around the corner at the same time holding up a closed fist so his companion could see it.
'Now I know I'm not crazy. Told you I heard something'
Mark Samson closed his eyes and squatted against the rough brick at his back trying to forget the details of the sight he had just seen.
The street, almost empty now, just a few of the creatures stumbling about aimlessly.
The row of houses, mostly abandoned and still dark with the power cut. Doors hanging open or swinging slowly in the light night wind that had sprung up.
One house had been different from the rest.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it; maybe it was because it was the only one surrounded by the infected. They swarmed over the lower part of it like ants around food.
Maybe it was because as he looked around the corner he had seen a flash of light like a bulb exploding.
Maybe it was the gunshot that followed the light.
He did a quick calculation in his head, weighing up the pros and cons of the situation.
After several seconds his eyes snapped open and he lifted the rifle that he still carried in a white-knuckled grip. He pulled back the priming bolt as quietly as he could.
'Screw it, orders are orders.'
The other man looked over at him a faint smile starting to form on his lips.
'I hope to hell you got a plan. Or this is gonna be one short-ass rescue attempt.'
Mark looked him in the eye.
'Wait for my signal, don't trip.'
'What the hell are … ?'
He never got to finish the sentence.
Private Samson stood and, shouting at the top of his lungs, firing his gun into the crowd around the house, ran out into the road trying to draw the majority of the crowd away from whoever was inside.
Private Warren Mitchell watched the other man tear up the street the best part of a hundred dead cannibals hot on his heels.
Well, he thought, that was different.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Wilkes walked in the darkest of the shadows, the remainder of his men close by.
The radio strapped to his belt beeped.
The damn thing had sat there useless and quiet for six hours, unable to raise anyone. Evidently someone had other ideas.
He reached up and hit the talk button on his throat mike.
'Hello, hello anyone read?'
He waited, the buzz of static echoing I his earpiece.
'Alpha team copy?'
Wilkes held up a hand the soldiers falling into defensive positions around him.
'Alpha, situation over?'
The radio reverted back to static once more. Wilkes held his breath.
'Containment failure at all locations, Clean sweep has been authorised. All teams have four hours, out.'
The radio went silent in Wilkes' ear.
He took a moment and let his hand drop from the band at his throat.
He turned slowly looking at each of his men in turn.
'You guys want the bad news … or the really bad news?'
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Mary sat at the table, Philip across from her. Thomas sat on the floor a glass of juice in his hands the situation from a couple of minutes ago all but forgotten now.
'You okay?'
Mary looked up from the chilled drink in her hands. At least she had stopped shaking. She managed a small smile.
'I'm just glad you missed.'
Philip looked over her shoulder, the impact of the bullet he had fired evident against the splintered frame of the door. At the last second he had lifted his arm and the round had gone high barely passing over the woman's head.
'I can't begin to say sorry enough. I … '
He couldn't finish the sentence.
She reached an arm across the table and put the palm of her hand on his forearm. She smiled.
It was enough for now.
He twitched his lips in response.
'Well', he said. 'Now that's all sorted out. What the hell do we do about them?'
He looked behind him at the window. Beyond the closed drapes he could make out darker shapes against the night.
It was then they heard the shouting, followed closely by several gunshots.
He jumped to his feet, the legs of the chair scraping the floor.
'Now what?'