Hurst - Robin Crumby (bookreader TXT) 📗

damage to the roof of the hotel was worse than she had first imagined. It seemed to extend along half the length of one of the buildings. They lost height and gently touched down on the side lawn. A swimming pool visible just beyond some bushes looked like it had been drained and used for storage.

Riley was fully expecting a crowd to rush out to welcome them, Stella and Sister Mel at its head, waving towards them. No one came. The place seemed deserted. Where was everyone?

They waited for the twin engines to power down. Two marines set up defensive positions covering the front and rear of the aircraft, before the airmen allowed Riley and Peterson to climb out on to the soft grass. The first marine ran to the corner of the building and took up a kneeling position, scanning to their right. Once he signalled all-clear, the rest of the group ran towards the main entrance, staying low.

They were a dozen paces from the entrance when Peterson held out his arm to block Riley from going any further. She looked up at him puzzled, following the line of his outstretched finger. It took her a couple of seconds to see what he was pointing out. Riley clasped her hand to her mouth to stop herself screaming. To the right of the doorway, someone had spray-painted a large red skull and cross bones, warning others not to enter. Riley gripped Peterson’s arm, trying to keep a lid on a mounting sense of panic.

“Peterson. It’s not possible. We were here not two days ago. There was no sickness. There must be some mistake. Everything was fine.”

“No one goes inside without a biohazard suit, am I clear? Pavlowski, break out the suits and breathing gear.”

Riley had never worn an airtight suit before. They were standard-issue in green PVC material with an oversize clear Perspex front panel that restricted the wearer’s field of vision to the sides. The suit she was handed was several sizes too big for her and went over all of her clothes, zipping up and sealing tight from behind. The head section and breathing gear took a while to get used to. The suits were claustrophobic and she found the Perspex viewing panel had a minor magnifying effect, like reading glasses, distorting the world outside. Corporal Pavlowski helped tape her sleeves closed and turned her air on before attending to his own.

When the group of four was ready and had checked each other’s equipment and seals, Peterson split them into two-man teams and they proceeded inside. Riley could hear her own breathing as she moved and stayed tight behind Pavlowski. In his gloved right hand he carried a pistol just in case they met any resistance. She tapped him on the shoulder and pointed down the corridor towards the main living area. In the lobby there were suitcases, plastic sacks and equipment stacked near the door, rubbish strewn across the carpet as if people had left in a hurry. There was no sign of Stella, or anyone else for that matter.

Peterson took his team up the main stairs as Riley searched the ground floor of the building. Riley knew the layout of the hotel directing Pavlowski as they went from room to room, through the kitchen, canteen and living room. Everywhere they went told the same story. The place looked like it had been ransacked; contents of desks rifled and drawers left hanging, books missing from shelves, papers strewn across surfaces. Had they been attacked, she wondered? There were no obvious signs of a fire fight, no bullet holes, no bodies. What had happened here?

They heard a loud banging on the ceiling from the floor above and Pavlowski grabbed Riley and gestured for her to follow. The suits were bulky and cumbersome. She found it difficult to run any faster than a slow shuffle without the head section bouncing awkwardly and the seams securing them to the main body threatening to tear open.

When they reached the top of the stairs they found Peterson and the other crewman. His body was braced against the closed fire door, as if something was trying to break out from the inside. The suit muffled Peterson’s voice. “We’ve found something.”

Riley’s eyes darted left and right, waiting impatiently for him to continue. “What is it? What did you find?” she implored.

“We’re going to need to limit our time inside. I’m sorry but there are many casualties. Find out what you can, but don’t hang around. The suits are airtight, but we’re not taking any chances. We’re looking for the girl. We’re not here to help the injured. Are we clear?” The three others nodded and Peterson released the fire door, and the two groups stepped inside.

The corridor stretched ahead of them with doors either side. Riley was not familiar with this part of the hotel but recognised the style and layout from the rooms she had already seen. She stood outside, waiting for Pavlowski to give her the nod that he was ready, gun poised in case someone tried to rush them.

Inside the first room, there were a total of seven bodies. The two shapes in the bed were already dead, or as good as, non-responsive and barely breathing. Two more were in armchairs positioned to look out of the large sash window at the garden and flowerbeds beyond. It was as if someone had wanted their last conscious moments to be contented ones, contemplating the beauty of the trees and the lines of carrots and potatoes growing in turned earth nearby. The heads of the two figures in the armchairs rotated towards the strange pair standing in the middle of the room. One of the women weakly held out a hand towards Riley, her hair matted with dried perspiration, greasy and lank. She recognised the woman’s face from the canteen, one of the kitchen staff. Riley inclined her head sympathetically as tears started to stream down her face. She couldn’t wipe them away.

Pavlowski heard her sob and was behind her in an instant. “You okay, Riley? Keep it together, yeah? If our girl ain’t here, we keep moving. We finish our sweep and get out of here.”

Riley nodded and reluctantly moved to the next room. Room number twenty-eight. They tried the handle and found it was locked so proceeded on to the next. Inside room thirty, they found the nurse all alone, keeping a silent vigil over the sick. She seemed to be sleeping and did not respond to their voices or touch. Pavlowski shook her hard and lightly slapped her face. She jolted upright in the chair as if an electric shock had been passed through her. Her eyes were wild, frightened by the two figures standing in front of her like astronauts from another planet. Riley spoke to her, but she didn’t seem to recognise her at first or understand what she was saying.

“Nurse, it’s Riley. You looked after my friend Zed. Do you remember me?” She leaned in close, slowing her words, annunciating clearly. “The man who hurt his arm. We were here a couple of days ago.” Riley grabbed her shoulders and shook her again.

The nurse shook her head, looking through her, clasping her hands together in her lap, stroking a rough patch of skin on the back of her wrist where she had rubbed it raw with worry. She was rocking backwards and forwards, terrified and confused. Riley tried again.

“What happened here? Where is everyone?”

The nurse seemed to come to her senses momentarily. “It’s just us now. They left me all alone with the sick.”

“Gone where?” Riley shook her again by the shoulders but the nurse grabbed her wrist to make her stop, staring angrily into her eyes through the plastic, resenting this intrusion into her private despair.

“The sisters took the rest of them to a safe place. They left me in charge. There’s nothing I can do, except make them comfortable.”

“I don’t understand. There was no sickness here when I left.”

“Mother Superior said the men brought the sickness. She blamed your friend.”

“But that’s impossible. None of our group are sick,” replied Riley incredulously.

“Not now. They may not know they are sick. Carriers, unaware that their every breath is deadly to others. This is how the virus spreads so fast. People carry on until they have infected everyone around them.”

Riley was unconvinced. She knew the virus well through observing the new arrivals at Hurst and their forty-eight hours of quarantine. Symptoms presented themselves quickly, coughing, sneezing, fever. It simply wasn’t possible that the members of the Hurst team could have spread the virus, unless they were immune themselves. None of that seemed to make any sense. She addressed the nurse again.

“Who fell ill first? That might give us a clue.”

“Let me think. It all happened so fast. I think it was the two girls. They were brought to see me first, complaining of feeling run-down and feverish. Of course, I knew right away what it was, or what I feared it might be. But by then it was already too late. They had been in contact with half a dozen others, and they in turn had been in contact with half a dozen more.”

“What were their names?” asked Riley urgently, grabbing her shoulders forcefully.

“It was Lexie and her friend Gina. They were the first, I’m sure of it.”

Riley remembered them well. They had been the two teenagers who told her about the boys they used to meet from outside the hotel grounds, drinking cider and smoking together behind the shed. The snatched kiss. Riley was convinced. In all probability, the girls were the most likely source of the outbreak. She didn’t for a moment believe that the team from Hurst had brought the virus with them. There had been no other reported cases at Hurst for months. They were clean, but it was pointless trying to convince the nurse otherwise. She at least knew the truth.

“Where are the rest of them? Do you know where they were making for?”

“I know they were headed east towards Christchurch. They’ll most likely find another hotel or large building, an abandoned school or trailer park to camp out there until the outbreak has died out. They’ll send a messenger every two days to check on us and wait until it’s safe to return.” The nurse turned her head and looked out of the window, lost in her thoughts. Without turning back, she continued in a low voice, barely above a whisper. “She knew you would come back.”

“Sorry. Who knew? Do you mean the sisters?”

“Sister Theodora said you would come looking for Stella and I was to give you this note when I saw you.” She reached into the folds of her apron. Deep inside a front pocket was a folded note that she held out to Riley with a shaking hand. Riley was intrigued and took the single side of hotel stationery with its distinctive masthead in her gloved fingers. She opened it slowly to reveal sculpted words, loops and letters written in the sister’s handwriting. It reminded her of the calligraphy pen she had been given on her eleventh birthday by a doting aunt and the hours she had spent perfecting her strokes and shapes. The note was addressed to her personally, but the bulk of the text was made up of two extracts from the Bible that she didn’t recognise immediately, but both sounded familiar.

 

There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign forever and ever.

Revelation 22:5

 

He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he that is holy, let him be holy still. And, behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give every man according