Chapter 5 Destroy the brain

The breathing of the dead was ever perceptible. The walkway offered a clear view down below onto the motorway as they wandered aimlessly. Masses of concrete that once held train, cars and people were now an endless labyrinth for the dead. It was where the underground railway and the motorway intermingled. the dead space, access tunnels, bridges and walkways through the huge concrete supports of the vast system. The man walked along the walkway in the dark, the light from the end of the tunnel shone through and outlined the cars, some wrecked and burnt, some parked with precision. The walkway split and turned to concrete walls on all sides, the man had to hunch down now in this tight corridor. Coming to fuse box and a door he stopped. reached into the fuse box and pulled a cord emanating from the top left corner. He then moved to the door and twisted the handle first left 3 or 4 times, then right twice. the door, which looked like it held an electrical substation or gas pipes clicked. The large man slipped his shoes off, held them by their heels and walked in barefoot. Adam Gressinghams computer was already on when he entered the room. It was normally in sleep mode when he got in. He sat down in his chair without taking off his coat. No blood on it today a message on screen read 'Mr. G you asked me to visually alert you of any changes in the network, there are; 137 personnel entries, 2 security alerts, 2 critical data breaches, one key-card log into tech vault 0004. What would you like to do now?' An excellent question thought Adam. The network was an amalgamation, predominantly The Space Agency's, other ones that relied on satellites or something else that could survive off grid. Adam had used these the past. If the survivors were dug in deep enough to be using one of these networks, they were a friend. Nothing had moved in 4 months, the last log in to a satellite ran internet was by someone in France, that was all the data he had. Adam would amuse himself at the thought of chubby politicians emerging from their bunkers about now. Having fed themselves plump on their freeze dried food they would probably take a bullet as soon as they stepped into sunlight. The world was tough now. So was Adam, so was his bunker. He typed a few commands and located the specific terminal that was causing the log in's and security breaches. It was one he had used before, in his own office and he had a good idea who it was.

'Please hack into Satcom channel 374 ;) Adam G'

Due to the nature of the apocalypse Sahil had not seen a winky face in some time. It was fourteen months AA (after apocalypse). Sahil only used this term inside his own head. A few months before then, and up to now he had been in dorm like rooms. Everyone he knew he could hear snore as they slept. There was no reason therefore, to send or receive a message. Even before then, not since his childhood had he used the ;) face. Now, 14 months AA a burly man in his late 30´s had messaged him to a computer that wasn't meant to exist, with an unknown device that given everything going to shit, shouldn't of existed either. After returning to earth and finding only chomping screeching monsters, Sahil started to feel an unknown sense of hope and confusion. His way around the log in wasn't difficult, he opened Satcom channel 374. Headshotscopeszx is online. A picture came through then opened automatically, it was of Adam's face in what looked like the front of a car.

"Open the door! Alain!"

Prim kicked the bottom of the door with her combat boots. There was absolutely no give in it. She kicked it again three times like you would knock on a door with your hand, thud, thud, thud.

"Alain what are you doing?"

He wouldn't lock himself in, wouldn't harm himself. She was getting no answers here. Primula gave one more futile boot in anger to the bottom of the door, now scuffed. She resolved to seek anyone else and interrogate them. Sahil sat in front of his computer, blinded to the outside world, he didn't notice prim until she was upon him. Intense from the start, gain the information quickly. If it's there. She pulled him back in his chair and span him around.

" Tell me, what the fuck is going on"

Sahil sat still.

"Do you have something to tell me?"

She closed in towards him, Sahil accidentally glanced at the screen, his eye betraying him. Her white eyes flashed wide she turned herself to look at the screen. Who, what is that

"Primula"

The gravelly phone voice came from the computer

"Alain has been affected, he suffered scratches at the vault and now his fever is a symptom of it. If he hasn't already started he will turn into one of them, Alain will be dead and instead you'll have one of those loose in there."

"Wait, where are you, what are you doing?"

"There is nothing left of Alain once the change happens, it's irreversible, irretrievable, there is nothing you can do for the afflicted, except make their final hours comfortable, and when they turn, destroy the brain."

"How do you know this for sure where are you, what's been going on?"

" There isn't time to explain now prim, I'm sorry but I-"

"Who locked the door?"

"Sahil did, and I sent Charlie, it is the only way"

Primula ran off at full speed.

Charlie stood facing the door of the infirmary, bloody smears still marked the walls from where he had arrived in the infirmary. He had helped carry him back in here himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, what he said rang true about the fever. If there was anyone who you would trust on these insane matters it would be Adam. He just hated it. what a world this was now. full of monsters and pain. he drew himself out of these thoughts and felt the heavy of the gun in his hand. , back to the task he thought. He drew a key from his pocket and slid it in the lock quietly. He heard the thudding of footsteps at full sprint down the hallway. He turned and instinctively pointed the gun towards them.

"Charlie, we can cure this, we have to try. I won't let you kill him."

She slowly advanced. Charlie lowered the gun.

" I don't want to, but you saw what that one was like, i've seen fifty, sixty of them, they aren't people any more."

He turned towards the door his gun pointed up at head height, he reached for the handle. Primula was behind him, she moved around his back and jabbed her elbow in his ribs, grabbing the wrist that held the gun. Swiveling her hips she sent a knee straight into his abdomen, which doubled him over. His back hitting against the door. Primula twisted the gun toting arm at his body and sent a flat left hand palm into his nose. He rebounded off the wooden door with a thud and his grip was loose from the gun, his mouth filled with blood. Primula had only hesitated in not sending his nasal bone up into the front of his brain. Charlie was slumped against the door breathing heavily through his mouth. Primula held the gun by her side. The breathing became scratching, it wasn't Charlie's, it was Alain's. The key was still in the lock, un-turned. She dragged Charlie to the opposite wall and propped him up. His stared at her through watering eyes. Primula clicked the lock open, the scratching renewed. She twisted the handle slowly until the door opened. She held the door there open less than a foot. Alain's face, drained and sullen but with ferocious bloodshot eyes bit at her.

"Alain?!"

Charlie, the intended killer seemed to show more hesitation to think of him as gone. Primula raised the gun between his eyebrows and pulled the trigger as soon as it was on target. She released her grip on the door and walked down the corridor. The door crept open until it stopped against Alain's dead body.

Charlie lugged a barrel off his shoulder and onto the flatbed pickup. He used a cloth to wipe the sweat from his face and stared out onto the heat hazed runway. The Headquarters were truly massive. He was at the maintenance shed, a speck compared to the 11 hangars, huge domed staff building, runways and various outhouses that littered the facility. He looked towards the fences that surrounded the facility and then back towards the buildings he had been tasked to protect. If there were Aliens in this area they hadn't found their way in here, that much was clear. Heat haze sat over the runways and made everything look vast and distant. Basra, Iraq; The heat haze sat similarly on miles of desert. Charlie had scanned it with a heightened tenacity as the haze falsely betrayed movement. His body was shaking with the low bass of explosion. Charlie sat against the corrugated steel. His back was beginning to ache, he un-tensed himself and stood up, he felt stiff and unsteady. Shelling could and often did happen at any moment, they seemingly had an unlimited supply of mortars shells. Apart from a few minor injuries the aim seemed to be breaking the soldier's spirit's. You were never allowed to forget you were at war, if you did you would be punished. These thoughts went through Charlie's head and forced him to right himself, he left the dark bunkers and got the eye straining confusion one gets upon leaving a dark cinema and an engrossing film. He stood squinting in the bright humid outdoors. The steel shelter was as quiet as the outdoors, everyone was silently getting on with what they were doing half an hour ago. The whole time he was in the army Charlie had been thinking; service, enjoyment, regimentation, why did he want to be here. His father had been in the Merchant Navy, men in his family seemed to seek service and solitude. He wished for something to get him out of the stinking self analytic mood. these questions to himself had come thick and fast especially since his encounter with that giant man. The man who left him with questions and the only answer was a burgundy business card with an email address on. he suddenly felt the presence of the card rubbing on his leg as he walked. He was on down time, no tasks to do, he headed for the rec room. How vague that man had been, had he known how prone Charlie was prone to fits of introspection? he sat at his computer screen, email open he had sat like this before, and had left without sending anything. The massive indecisiveness that can come only from contact with women. Not females this time though, a nigh seven foot tall man " if you are interested, here's my card". 'I'm interested' He typed mockingly in the text field. For a few minutes more he typed filler around this sentence, formalising it. he hovered the cursor over send. here he was again, indecision over the send button. last time he had moved the cursor to the end of the email, clicked and held the backspace, watching as it skipped over deleting all the words. he hated not being able to talk face to face. That email to Samantha was never sent. it was an email delaying the inevitable, he wasn't good with words, especially typed ones. The only way they were going to work out, his school sweetheart and him was if is if they could speak in person. He joked in his head that it was his looks that won her over. He wasn't bad looking by any means, but a porcelain white red-head whose long arms made all garments look ill fitting, was hardly a pick of the bunch. he had this sense of humour with himself that cheered him up always. he clicked send impulsively. the email had been sent, and he never spoke to that Samantha again. "What's your last name?"

"why?"

Sam had rolled a barrel up to the truck and hesitantly tried to figure out how she would lift it, not wanting to indicate she needed help. Charlie hopped down from the truck's bed.

"Ainsley, Charlie ainsley."

Charlie put both hands on the barrell and bent over it.

"Samateewang."

" Sam Samateewang?"

Charlie concealed a smile in his question.

" My first name is Porntip"

His smile grew.

" It means blessed angel, in Thai at least."

together they lugged the barrel onto the truck. Charlie smiled at the continued amazement and surprise he hoped would never end with Sam. The barrels sat in a pyramid on the edge of the truck-bed. He would never say Sam again and think back to the Sam of a different life, Porntip, he smiled again.