Hurst - Robin Crumby (bookreader TXT) 📗

This was a big call taking an inexperienced team into a well-defended and densely populated environment that he knew virtually nothing about. They would need luck on their side. He looked around the group, weighing up their strengths and weaknesses. From what he’d seen of the new arrivals, they were both fit and able. If they had to get out of there quickly, Joe was the weak link, heavy and slow. He had taught them all what little he remembered about self-defence and hand-to-hand combat. Joe was powerful, threw a good punch. Riley and Sean showed some skill with a knife. As for the rest, he had no idea. Did they even know what they were letting themselves in for? Riley did, Mila looked terrified but was hiding it well from the others. The others were hard to read, but chances were they were all terrified. If they could find out where they were holding Will, then maybe, just maybe they could get him out from right under their noses without anyone noticing. They owed it to Will to at least try.

Zed closed his eyes and ran through the plan once more in his head. It was up to him to get them in and out safely, without casualties. There was no margin for error tonight.

Chapter Twenty-two

Riley was the last over the fence. The sleeve of her jacket caught on some barbed wire and ripped. Off balance, she landed heavily on the grass verge below, twisting her ankle a little. The fence rattled behind her. “Nice one, Riley. Get it together,” she muttered to herself.

The rest of the group was already at the fire door. Zed started loosening up the frame with a crowbar, splintering the wood around the locking mechanism. It took around ten minutes for the reinforced surround to cave in, and with a loud creak Zed levered open the door a crack. He got his fingers inside and wrenched open the door wider, its rotten base scraping against the concrete floor. Inside, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the gloom. They picked their way carefully around some machinery and shelving units. The room was completely dark, other than a rectangle of light from the doorway and from two narrow skylights that cast fading shadows across the machinery.

Double doors led through to one of the main corridors running north to south as far as the eye could see. From Sean’s crude drawing of the hospital layout, Zed figured this would take them to the stairwell that led to the upper floors. The corridor was eerily quiet. There was not a soul about.

They regrouped in a consultation room off to their left, huddling together around Zed. He crouched down, one knee on the linoleum floor.

“Where the hell is everyone?” asked Riley.

Zed shrugged his shoulders. “Looks like no one’s home. So let’s make the most of it. According to Sean’s map there’s a stairwell just up here, right?”

Sean leaned in, angling the piece of paper towards him to check and nodded.

“Okay. So let’s head up to the next floor. Mila, you stay with me. The rest of you go with Riley. Stay together. Let’s get this done quickly and get out.”

Zed led the way back into the corridor, keeping to the left side and pausing at each doorway to listen. Where the walkway opened out into a lobby area, there was a lone flickering candle in a saucer, but still no sign of anyone.

Riley pointed to a blue sign directing them to the stairwell. She put her hands to the heavy door and put her weight against it, easing it open silently. At the foot of the stairs, she craned her neck to peer between the railings, making sure there was no one coming. Zed was already suspicious. It was all going a little too well. Were they walking into a trap?

At the top of the stairs, Riley cracked open the door to the first floor, listening carefully. She crouched down, her fingers pressed to her lips. They could all hear voices. She opened the door wider and stuck her head around the corner. About thirty metres away she could see half a dozen people, with their backs to them.

They stole across the corridor and waited out of sight. Zed waved Riley forward, encouraging her group to start their search, while he and Mila stood guard and spied on the hospital group. They had no trouble keeping to the shadows. The first floor was poorly lit with candles and kerosene lamps. Skirting around the back of the group, they followed the U-shape until it opened out into a large atrium that overlooked a lobby area. Below them they could hear voices and the unmistakeable sounds of a large gathering, bodies pressed tightly together, feet shuffling and a man coughing.

Zed took up position next to a large pot plant, his senses alert. To their right, around a dozen doctors and medical staff were leaning over the railing listening. A few of the doctors had their arms crossed. Their body language seemed hostile as if they were removed from whatever was being discussed below. Two men in white lab coats whispered conspiratorially, but he couldn’t catch what they were saying from this distance.

Zed crept forward, Mila beside him, and peered between the railings at the sea of faces gathered on the ground floor. A couple of hundred heads were facing away from him, craning necks and squinting into the relative gloom to see what was going on at the far end of the lobby. He crouched low but still couldn’t see what they were looking at.

The crowd fell silent as a man’s voice carried across the room. It was a voice Zed recognised from earlier in the day. Clipped, Mancunian, slightly nasal with a hard edge. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled as he remembered the man in black's face across the street from earlier, his fists clenching tight, remembering what they had done to Bob.

“You all know how hard we’ve fought to get this far. It hasn’t been easy. We’ve all lost someone or something. But together we’re getting stronger by the day. Look around you. We have food, a roof over our heads, weapons, and security. We even have our own doctors to treat us when we get sick. But if we are going to do more than just survive, we need to expand our operation.”

There were murmurs of approval and nods from a few of the heads.

“Every day our patrols bring back men, women and children from places around here. Every day we learn about other survivor camps throughout this area. Dozens of them, big and small. Beyond the New Forest, there may be hundreds more groups like us, surviving, holding on, waiting. We have a good set-up here. We have everything we need. So why do we need to change?”

He paused, letting the question resonate with his audience. “Let me tell you why. We have a chance to become something more. To take a lead. To build a new world order based on our rules. No one can tell us what to do any more or how to think or how to act. We don’t have to go back to the way things were. We can build something new, something better.”

Zed found himself nodding. He sounded a lot like the man he wished Jack would be. He was right. Survival was not enough, but Jack didn't think like that. The man in black’s speech crystallised some of Zed's unspoken thoughts and hopes for Hurst.

The whispers below grew to a louder discussion, and another man’s voice, deeper and menacing, appealed for quiet in vain. He put his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply until the room fell silent.

“Even now, our doctors are working hard to understand more about the virus, to find a cure. In time, we hope to synthesise a vaccine, however long that takes.”

There were louder murmurs of approval as if, for a delicious moment, several amongst them dared to hope that such a vaccine was within reach. He waited for the crowd to fall silent.

“We don’t yet know why but certain individuals have natural immunity to the virus. We’re getting closer to finding out every day. With the right resources and support, there’s no reason we can’t find the answer and mass-produce a vaccine. We can start inoculating hundreds, maybe thousands, of survivors. Spreading the word, spreading the cure, not just to the New Forest but also to the whole region. Perhaps even the whole country. Imagine for a second the power and influence that discovery would deliver. Starting tomorrow, we begin reaching out to other groups. We invite them to join forces with us.”

A dissenting voice from the back shouted out, “What if they don’t want to? You can’t make them.”

The man in black laughed dismissively, pointing in his direction. “You’re right. No one can force them to join us. But…” He paused for a moment. “They would be foolish to stand against us.”

There were hoots of derision from those members of the audience who distrusted the man in black and his thinly disguised ambition. He was forced to wait until the raucous noise from the increasingly partisan crowd abated before he could continue.

“There will be those that disagree with our methods. Let them. When they see what we are building, when they hear that we have the cure, when they see what the future holds, then they will understand. Our way of life means growth and prosperity. Security for all. If they join us, then we all stand together, united. They are either with us, or against us.”

It was clear to Zed that the assembled crowd was deeply divided. The whole room seemed to erupt, catalysed by the emotive discussion. It seemed like all of their anger, their hopes and fears boiled over with factions shouting at each other. There was some pushing and shoving. Men squared up to each other, fingers jabbed in faces. A couple of punches were thrown, as order rapidly degenerated.

Zed had heard and seen enough. It reminded him of the early days at Hurst before the community coalesced around a common vision for the future. He slipped away from the railing, beckoning Mila to follow him. Together they joined the others, searching the rest of the first floor.

Most of the rooms were either locked or empty. Double doors to a larger overnight ward were barred from the outside with a piece of wood padlocked in place. There was a good chance that this was where they were holding Will. Two small square observation windows were papered over with dried tissue. Riley scratched some off with her fingernail. She heard a chair scrape from the other side and muffled voices.

She peeled off more paper, trying to see inside. Riley jumped back startled as a bearded face filled the square window. He looked dishevelled, his hair grey and unkempt. He started banging his fists on the door weakly. She gestured for him to stop, afraid that the noise would attract attention.

The old man put his face to the crack and whispered, “Please help us.” He rattled the handle on the double doors, but they were securely fastened.

Riley looked around the door frame for a key but saw nothing.

Zed joined her at the double doors, thinking Will might be inside. He could make out about a dozen beds with every inch of floor space occupied by men and women. Who knew how long they had been kept there? Judging by the filth and foul stench it had been some time. They looked malnourished. Some could barely stand. They huddled close to the door, appealing weakly to Riley and Zed to get them out.

“We’re looking for Will. South African guy?” whispered Zed as loud as he dared.

The old man shook his head. “There’s no one of that name or nationality here.”

Zed turned to go, but the old man called him back. “Please. Don’t leave.