“Sorry lads, but I need to see your Captain,” I say looking at the two confused men, who are wondering what just happened.
“What’s going on here, lower that weapon,” a man dressed in a Captain’s uniform orders from my left.
The two squaddies immediately stand to attention, with embarrassed looks on their faces. I lower the Glock and wait for the man who I assume is Captain Walker to arrive.
“Captain Walker?” I ask.
“Yes, who are you and what on earth were you doing out there?” The tall confident Captain asks.
“I’m Captain Andy Richards, with Special Forces. I am on a mission under Colonel Reed’s direct orders.”
“I thought you were retired Captain?”
“So did I, Captain. What can you tell me about what has happened at Heathrow?”
“You two are dismissed, return to the front line,” Captain Walker tells the two squaddies, who immediately salute and march off.
“Heathrow has been breached, Captain Richards, and is being evacuated as we speak. Command is now off-site. That is all I know at present; I have my hands full here.”
“I have to get there now; do you have transport?” I ask him.
“Heathrow is compromised; there is no point going there. Perhaps...”
“I left my children there, Captain.” I cut him off.
“Oh, I see.” Captain Walker thinks for a moment, before saying, “Follow me.”
Captain Walker turns and strides back in the direction he appeared from. He stops at a transit van with aerials protruding from its roof and opens the back doors.
“At ease,” he tells the man and woman inside the van. “This is Captain Richards, see if you can help him arrange transport out of here, understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” they both say, looking at me as if I am a tramp.
“I will have to leave you in their hands, Captain, I have to get back to my men.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Good luck, Richards.”
“You too.”
Captain Walker walks off. I didn’t even ask him how his operation is going, but I have other things on my mind. The man and woman in the cramped space in the back of the van look at me for orders.
“Can you arrange a helicopter to get me to Heathrow?” I ask them.
“Sir, comms are very sketchy at the moment, and we haven’t been able to get hold of flight command for the last twenty minutes,” the female Corporal informs me.
“Shit. Can you contact the air support currently up in the air directly?” I ask.
“We have their channels, yes Sir.”
“See if you can raise Flight Lieutenant Alders,” I tell her.
“Yes, Sir, it could take some time to go through the channels, that is if he is even flying at the moment, Sir.”
“I understand that, Corporal. Give it your best shot; it’s urgent. I’ll be back in a minute; I’m just going to get some water.”
I bring back three two-litre bottles of water and stand at the back of the van while the Corporal and her colleague chatter away. I wash my hands off with half of the first bottle, then use the rest of it, pouring it over my head while I lean forward, running my other hand through my hair at the same time. Pieces of debris and God knows what else run out of my hair and onto the ground. I do the same with the second bottle as more debris falls out of my hair. I scrub my face also as best I can, using up the rest of the bottle.
Finally, I shake the excess water from my head like a wet dog, before wringing my hair out with my hands. My hair and face feel much better when I’m finished. There is nothing I can do about the dust scratching my body beneath my clothes, as tempting as it is to strip off and use more bottles.
The third bottle, I take a big drink out of and use it to swill down another two energy bars. I am not hungry in the slightest; I need energy though and force them down while I wait.
“Sir, I have Flight Lieutenant Alders” the Corporal informs me.
“Pass me the headset,” I say moving forward to the back of the van.
“Alders is that you, over?” I say into the headset.
“This is Flight Lieutenant Alders, who is this, over?”
“It’s Captain Richard, back from the dead, over.”
“That’s not possible,” Alders claims, sounding very doubtful.
“I can assure you it’s me, Alders. I survived and managed to get out of the Orion building. I need your help, over.”
“How did you survive? You were infected,” he asks.
“I’m not sure, but I have and now I need a lift back to Heathrow. Can you help, over?” The headset goes quiet for a moment.
“Heathrow is compromised and off-limits Captain. We are operating out of RAF Northolt. I’m just about to head back to refuel, over.”
“Alders, my children are at Heathrow. I need you to drop me off there. You don’t even have to land. I’m at the Notting Hill Gate forward position; can you pick me up, over?”
“Yes, Sir. ETA five minutes. Standby at the landing zone, over.”
“I’ll be ready, Flight Lieutenant, and thank you, over and out.”
I whip off the headset and give it back to the Corporal. She reaches for a pack of anti-bacterial wipes as I do.
“Where is the LZ?” I ask her.
“Over there,” she says, pointing, with a worried look on her face.
“Thanks for the assistance, Corporal. Do you want the doors closed?” I ask.
“Yes please, Sir.”
I slam the van’s back doors closed, and turn and jog in the direction I was pointed in. Just beyond where the two squaddies had sat me down is a cleared area with a big white cross painted on the ground. I take a position next to it, put the bottle of water down and start to check my kit, my adrenaline starting to build again.
Chapter 20
Kit checked and ready to go, I stand scanning the sky, impatiently waiting for
