Military personnel pass me by, looking, wondering what the dishevelled-looking man, armed to the teeth is up to, one or two even asking if I’m lost. Smoke wisps by me in the breeze, caught in the glare of the tall free-standing temporary LED lights dotted around. The sun is straining to break through the clouds above, but the smoke and dust help keep even the most determined sunbeam at bay. The sky has taken on a deep red colour in places, especially lower down near the horizon, as if Rabid blood has managed to stain the sky as well as the ground.
Come on, Alders, where the fuck are you? I think, my impatience growing. How is it possible that Heathrow has been breached? It is a long way from the infected zone and had thousands of troops guarding it. No matter how many times I ask myself the question, I still don’t know the answer. It is academic now really, how it happened; the fact is, it has. The more important question is, are my children still there, Christine? I can only hope that they have been evacuated, but that is a big hope. I have seen it all too often in most of the conflicts I have witnessed. Civilians are of little importance to the people who dish out the orders, especially when those same people are threatened. It isn’t women and children first; it’s women and children last, if at all.
A lynx swoops over my head, from the direction of the battlefront. This has to be Alders, it’s got to be, I think to myself on tenterhooks. Yes, Alders, you beauty! The Lynx pulls its nose up as it flies past the LZ, bringing its tail up and over to turn. Alders brings the Lynx in quickly, lowering it as he approaches, needing no direction from me. As soon as Alders touches down, I run across the LZ, head down to the co-pilot’s door.
“Taxi for Richards!” Alders shouts as I climb into the cockpit.
“That’s me, Flight Lieutenant, that’s me,” I shout back, as I sit down and strap myself in.
No sooner have I shut the door and started to buckle up, than Alders starts his take-off. His ascent is rapid and smooth, I obviously don’t need to convey my urgency to him. Before I have even grabbed a headset, he is banking the Lynx around in the direction of Heathrow. He is busy talking into his headset, to what I assume is air traffic control, establishing his flight path. Visibility is too bad to only fly by sight across the city, especially with the number of military aircraft in the airspace over London.
Before we leave the area, I manage to get a brief look down at the destroyed city around the forward position we have just taken off from. Notting Hill Gate is a smouldering pile of rubble ahead of the battlefront. Cars continue to burn in the road and tracer fire streaks up the blackened road as the fight continues. Dark destroyed buildings reach up each side of the road and beyond, some still burn while others just belch out smoke. Battle scars mount as I look out and across the city where other battles have taken place or still rage on, the destruction looks endless.
A couple of taps on my shoulder bring my focus back and away from the horror as it shrinks through my window. Alders motions for me to put my headset on which is still in my hands and not on my head.
“Jesus Christ, you really are back from the dead, Captain. No pun intended. What happened? Everybody was convinced you were infected, they said you were scratched? Josh was gutted!”
“How bad was Josh?” I ask.
“He wasn’t brilliant, he was gutted of course. He seemed to be handling it as well as could be expected when I left him if that’s any consolation. What happened?” Alders asks again.
“I don’t know what to tell you, I thought I was infected too? I woke up a few times, feeling like I was turning into one of them; it was terrible. Then gradually, I started to feel better. I don’t know if it was the injections I’d had, if I wasn’t infected properly or if I’m immune somehow. I can’t explain it?”
“Or you’re just one lucky bastard?” Alders says, smiling.
I daren’t tell him that something about me has changed, that the Rabids think I’m one of them. He might get the jitters and take me back to where he found me and decide not to take me to Heathrow. I don’t know him well and I can’t risk it, not now.
“What the hell has happened at Heathrow? That place was a fortress?” I ask him, desperate for some solid information before I dive into the fight again. I seriously doubt he will know anything about my children and the others, however.
“I’m hearing that an ingoing transport got overwhelmed with Rabids, causing it to crash land. Unfortunately, the crash didn’t kill them, and it escalated from there. You know how hard these bastards are to kill. I haven’t been back since I was diverted to RAF Northolt. I have seen it from a distance, on my flightpath to Northolt; I could see the flames from miles away!” he tells me.
“Shit,” I say quietly. “Do you know if everyone has been evacuated?”
“I wish I had better news, but not many have, I’m sorry. Evacuating that many people with Rabids on the ground is proving problematic. I have heard through the grapevine that they are going to take decisive action at Heathrow to stop the infection spreading out of that area.”
“What action?” I ask.
Alders looks sheepish, debating whether to tell me any
