Designated (Book 2): Designated Quarantined by Ricky Cooper

nodded at Patterson and closed his eyes as he pulled again, wrapping the bandage back on itself and sending the pressure ever higher.
 
    A soft plastic click emanated up from Rook's shoulder as Patterson clipped the end of the bandage into place.
     
    'That should see you until we can get exfil; just don't do anything stupid, okay? And pray to god, or whoever the fuck collects your ticket, that it,' he pointed to the freshly covered wound, 'isn't Infected, and I don't mean MRSA.'
     
    Rook smiled as he fished in his thigh pocket for a cigar. 'Andre, if it comes down to it, I'll clock myself out rather than turn into one of those fucking things.' He motioned towards the door with his unlit cigar. 'By the way, chuck me your coms; I got to relay into Hawk, let him know what the hell's going on.'

7

 
    Hawk's radio buzzed, his ear itching from the burst of white static; lifting his hand, he rubbed at the inside of his ear, trying to scrape away the maddening tickle that was pushing at the roots of his ear.
 
    As he strained to listen, a familiar voice filtered through the wall of hissing electrical buzzing. Flicking away the flakes of congealed soap clinging to the tip of his gloved finger, Hawk pressed against his throat microphone, opening up the channel. His eyes widened as Rook relayed the situation of his team.
 
    'Fuck it all to hell. Okay, brother, sit tight; if you can push to the evac, Kingfisher should be there.
     
    'Hold position there, we are closing in on the source here. Collared a live ward manager. I will radio through if I come up with anything concrete. Keep it on a swivel, okay? See you on the other side.'
 
    Stepping through the heavy double doors in front of him, Hawk swept the torch beam across the rows of beds; blood stained the loose-woven blankets and heavy cotton sheets. He stepped forwards, a soft wet tapping emanating up from his foot. Glancing down at his boot-covered feet, he watched as the ever-expanding ripples rolled through the slowly congealing pool of blood. A frown crossed his features as he lifted his foot and stepped over it, dropping to one knee besides the nurse's station. The flickering glow of the computer monitor reflected off the one-way glass set into the wall. The light bounced across Hawk's crouched form, casting a dancing hunched shadow across the floor.
 
    'Sooker, on me. Hampson, Carruthers split left. Carlstook, dig in and cover the doors; we haven't got long here and need to find the heart of this bitch and rip it the fuck out.'
 
    They split off, heading deeper into the ward. A soft mewling drew Sooker's attention as he slowly advanced into the second section of the ward. Beds lay strewn across the floor, their mattresses and blankets tossed aside like fallen trees in a forest; stepping over the claret-stained bedding, his footsteps as silent as falling snow, Sooker peered into the gloom. Motioning with one hand, he beckoned Hawk forwards. As silently as a stalking shadow, he appeared at Sooker's side. Tapping his ear gently with his index and middle finger, Sooker shifted and motioned towards the far corner of the ward. Hawk nodded, lifting his rifle to a tighter position as he stepped to the side and watched Sooker continue forwards.
 
    Slowly and with infinitesimal care so he didn't disturb the steel sliders of the privacy curtain, Sooker pulled. As the curtains parted, both men felt their gorge rise. Hunched in the decimated remains sat a woman, her withered form sleeved in the bile and blood of those she had been feasting upon. Her soft, toothless gums sucked at the flayed strands of skin and flesh as she tried to prise it from the bone. Empty bowls, canisters, and packets lay strewn over the floor, their contents long since consumed in the burning need for sustenance. A dark viscous brown sludge flowed from the woman's hunched form, staining the back of her hospital robes.
 
    The stench was overwhelming, filling their olfactory sense to the point of