“If you’re worried we can drop a couple of purification tablets in,” Cahz said.
“We got some?”
“Over here. There’s a ton of camping equipment.” Cahz looked over at Ryan. “You and your pals obviously didn’t need it.”
Ryan peered into the open crate. “We had as much of this shit as we needed. It was mainly food and weapons we took, when we could find them.”
“Any medical supplies boss?” Cannon asked.
“Yeah, boxes of the stuff,” Cahz replied. “Why, you needing something?”
“Got some gloves and some disinfectant?”
“You carrying an injury?” Ryan asked, suspicious of the big soldier.
“Nope. I just want to get the crud off my kit.” Cannon looked down at the gore soaked body armour and the smudges of gunk on his uniform. “I don’t want to wipe my nose and get the infection off this shit.”
“Here.” Cahz tossed two tissue box sized containers over in rapid succession.
Cannon caught the first box with ease but fumbled slightly to keep hold of the second. When he finally had both under control he read the packaging.
“One hundred vinyl gloves.” Cannon turned the second box round. “And alcohol wipes.”
“Closest thing to a disinfectant I’ve found,” Cahz said.
Cannon sat down on the edge of a crate and started opening the boxes.
“I suggest we all take the time to clean ourselves up,” Cahz said looking round at everyone. He saw Elspeth lying on a camp bed oblivious to the conversation, cradling the infected child. In reality he knew he was only addressing Ryan. It was too late for them.
“So there’s no chow?” Cannon said as he scraped at his body armour with what looked like a moist towelette left over from an in-flight meal. The wad of tissue was becoming more and more discoloured with every pass. Streaks of black, brown, red and even green began accumulating on the white cloth as Cannon went about cleaning.
“Don’t know how you can think of food right now,” Cahz confessed.
“Just taking stock. Need to know our assets and liabilities.” Cannon kept working at the sodden fabric as he spoke.
“We do have dinner, courtesy of Bates.” Cahz held up the webbing Bates had passed him. “But it’s early for lunch just yet.” He placed the pouches down with the rest of the useful material scavenged.
“Fantastic,” Ryan said, eyeing up the pack.
“And I think we should be saving that,” Cahz added.
“Saving it?” Ryan asked. “What for? I mean, your man’s coming back in a few hours and I’m fucking starving.”
Cahz sat down on a crate. “He is, but it’ll be a while.”
“Well, how long?”
Looking down at his watch, Cahz went through some mental arithmetic. “If all goes well I’d expect to see him sometime after seventeen hundred hours.”
“And if it don’t go well?” Cannon said slowly.
“Worst case scenario, old Captain Warden won’t let him fly without six hours shuteye,” Cahz answered.
“That’s a full day then,” Ryan said.
“We’ve got a secure location and enough water. We’ve got one MRE and they’re quite generous so even split between four that ought to keep your belly quiet.” Cahz levelled his last comment at Ryan.
“Come on, I’ve not eaten a proper meal in…” Ryan paused. “Well, for fucking years.”
“You’ll be right at home with the MRE then. It ain’t a proper meal,” Cannon quipped.
“You’re lucid and mobile. I don’t doubt you’re hungry, but the longer we save the food the better,” Cahz said.
“Why if we’re getting picked up in a while can I not have some now?”
“No, we’ll wait and eat it tonight. That will give us the energy we need when we need it. For now just sit tight and wait.”
“You forgettin’ something, boss?” Cannon looked over at Elspeth.
Cahz gave a sigh and nodded.
“Lady,” he called over.
Elspeth was looking drawn and groggy.
“My name is Elspeth,” she said indignantly. “You haven’t used my name once.”
Cahz realised that he’d been avoiding using her name. Maybe in his unconscious mind he’d reasoned it would be easier to deal with a nameless zombie.
“Sorry Elspeth, but this concerns you.” Cahz lowered his tone. “Have you decided how you want to go out?” Even when forced to address the issue directly he still couldn’t help but use euphemisms.
Elspeth straightened up. “I don’t want to be shot, if that’s what you’re asking. At least not until I’ve come back.”
“That’s fine, Elspeth,” Ryan said. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t want you to kill my granddaughter either,” Elspeth added. “Not while I’m alive.”
Ryan hung his head and bit his lip. He knelt down beside her and reached out his hand. Gently, so as not to disturb her, he moved some of the swaddling away from her face.
“How’s she doing?” Ryan whispered gazing at the cherub like features.
“She’s been able to fall asleep, bless her,” Elspeth said. “Look, Ryan, it’s not right her not having a name. I know you’ve had it hard with Samantha’s death, we all have.”
Ryan knelt there, quietly looking at the child.
“I don’t expect a christening or anything like that,” Elspeth added. “I mean, God stopped listening a long time ago. Ryan,” Elspeth said more firmly, “Ryan, it’s not right not naming her.” She looked Ryan in the eye. Her old translucent skin showed the snaking lines of contaminated veins beneath.
Ryan’s bottom lipped trembled involuntary as he thought about Sam.
“You can’t let her die without giving her a name.” Elspeth passed the bundle over to her father. “Samantha would have wanted you to.”
Ryan took the sleeping child with shaking hands. He bit at his lip trying to keep the tears in.
“Oh Elspeth!” Ryan blurted out and started crying.
Elspeth put her arms around the young man and hugged him close.
Cahz nudged his colleague and whispered, “Show me the roof.”
Cannon nodded and the pair made their exit.
Chapter Eight
Purchase
“Can’t sit here all morning,” Ali said as he stood up.
For lack of a better idea he had decided to try the partially open window again, this time a little more cautiously. He scrambled up onto the broken balcony and dislodged another makeshift crowbar. He wedged the metal bar into the open window and again applied pressure, this time more evenly and warily.
As soon as he started he could hear the PVC frame of the window groan but nothing more.
He pushed a little harder. Still the window didn’t budge.
Ali started leaning into the push then pulsing the force to try and fatigue the joints and bolts keeping the window locked. The third time he applied tension there was a faint ripping sound, like a strip of fabric being torn. Ali pulled on the bar again and this time the noise was slightly louder.
He put the metal rod down and examined the gap. The plastic surround was buckled and chewed and the metal joint the window pivoted on was scraped but still intact. It hadn’t budged.
Ali stood resting for a moment with his hand on the frame. He stroked his long beard with his free hand
