‘No, sir, they’re worse. Much worse.’
‘How so?’
‘This new foe we’re facing is like no other. They are already dead. This makes them both fearless and largely indestructible. And when people are killed by this unearthly new enemy, regardless of which side they were originally batting for, they all turn.’
The colonel thought for a moment and poured himself another drink. ‘I’d already heard as much. You’ve been on the ground though, Wilkins. I want your fullest and frankest assessment of the situation.’
‘It’s grim, sir. Getting worse by the day. By the hour, actually.’
‘And how do you see things panning out?’
‘I’m no strategist and I—’
‘What’s your gut feeling, Lieutenant?’
‘Follow the logic of this scenario through, Colonel.’
‘Logic?’
‘Quite. But consider the facts. The dead have extraordinary resilience and aggression and the curse which has blighted them is contagious. There will inevitably come a point when they outnumber the living.’
‘That’s what I feared.’
‘I foresee there being a tipping point, perhaps not too far away, when the living become the minority. Then, eventually, we’ll disappear altogether.’
The colonel knocked back his second drink. ‘Damn those bloody Nazis,’ he yelled, and he thumped his fist down onto the desk, filling the small office with noise.
‘It’s not completely hopeless, sir.’
‘It certainly sounds that way.’
‘You’ve heard about Polonezköy? The camp where the germ at the source of this outbreak was developed.’
‘I’ve read the report.’
‘Then you’ll also know one of the scientists responsible is imprisoned there.’
‘Yes, and since we received your intelligence we’ve been able to confirm he hasn’t left the camp. In fact, no one’s entered or left the camp in some time, by all accounts.’
‘It strikes me that scientist is our best hope. Perhaps our only hope.’
‘I completely agree, Wilkins. You leave at midnight.’
‘Sir?’
‘You heard me. Come on, man, did you really think I could send anyone else? You’ve experience of dealing with these ghouls first-hand.’
‘But sir, I do think there are other men who are better equipped to—’
‘Dammit, Wilkins, you’re going and that’s all there is to it. You wouldn’t have been my first choice, granted, but as of this morning you’re just about my only choice. There may have been better men, braver men, but…’
‘Sir?’
‘But they’re dead. Some of them dead twice over. Only two of you made it back, and you’re the only one still alive. I need you to accompany the team heading for Polonezköy. The fate of our country is at stake here.’
Wilkins stood up slowly, his body weighed down with fatigue and resignation. He was about to leave but he stopped, concerned by something the colonel had said. ‘Two of us made it back?’
‘What?’
‘You said two of us made it back. Who was the other?’
‘Raymond Mills. Good chap.’
‘I know him. Where is he?’
The colonel paused, and Wilkins began to feel increasingly uneasy. He wasn’t being told the whole story here, that much was clear. Colonel Adams picked up on his uncertainty. ‘Come with me.’
Another staircase leading even farther down, deep below Pocklington Hall. Another guarded door in a place where there shouldn’t have been a door at all. The guard saluted and stood aside.
On the other side of the door, a well-lit room. Small and square, no more than four yards wide and long. At the far end, a hastily-built ante-room. No door. A metal grille two bricks wide by three high. ‘Get me some light in there,’ the colonel ordered. A switch was flicked, and Wilkins peered inside.
Raymond Mills was dead. His uniform torn to shreds, his exposed skin equally damaged. His face was a hideous shadow of the man Wilkins remembered: a cruel caricature of a once brave and proud soldier. Mills’ eyes were at once completely devoid of emotion yet full of anger and hate. When he saw Wilkins and the colonel on the other side of the grille, he threw himself at them and began to fight viciously and pointlessly, trying to get at them.
‘Good God,’ Wilkins said.
‘Poor bastard. He was caught by one of those things just as he was getting on the plane, but by all accounts no one noticed until it was too late.’
Wilkins’ mind was racing. How had they managed to get the infected officer down here? Had anyone else come into contact with him? ‘You have to get rid of him, sir. Burn him, I suggest. It’s necessary to bludgeon the head first to incapacitate him, then burn what’s left to be sure the infection can’t be spread.’
‘It’s perfectly safe, Wilkins. We’ve had our best men dealing with him. There’s no way he can escape.’
‘Then what’s the point of keeping him in this pitiful state?’
‘To study. You’re a decent soldier, but you’re no scientist. Our chaps tell me they need to see one of these things close-up to work out what we’re dealing with. Mills fell into our lap at just the right moment.’
‘There is no right moment…’
‘I understand your concern, but there’s no way out. He’s bricked in, for goodness sake.’
‘And how did you keep him restrained while the brickwork was complete?’ Wilkins asked.
‘He was shackled to the wall.’
‘Well he’s not now,’ he observed as his dead colleague threw himself at the metal grille again.
‘No, there was an incident with his right hand, I believe. But he is completely trapped. He doesn’t have the strength to break through brick walls.’
‘What kind of incident?’
The colonel seemed reluctant. ‘He chewed through his own wrist to get free.’
‘Christ… And you expect me to believe he won’t get out? Have you stopped to consider the implications? Just by having him here you’ve introduced the germ to England. If he should get lose then we’re all done for…’
‘He won’t get out,’ Colonel Adams said, his tone increasingly short. ‘My people know what they’re doing here, Wilkins, and I’ll have nothing bad said of them. They’ll do what’s asked of them and all I expect of you is that you follow your orders, and those orders are to break into Polonezköy camp, find this bloody scientist, get him out of there and deliver him to us alive. Is that clear?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘Glad to hear it. Now get yourself some food and some rest. You don’t have long.’
‘Sir.’
‘There’s a hell of a lot riding on this mission, Wilkins. Far more than you probably appreciate.’
14
Despite his utter exhaustion, sleep hadn’t come easily to Wilkins. Nervousness kept him awake for much of the morning. That and the constant noise and activity in and around the manor house. He admitted defeat just before lunchtime. He emerged from the room where they’d left him in a makeshift (and bloody uncomfortable) cot, and left the building through a large glass door which opened out onto a raised courtyard area. The room he’d been resting in had originally been a ballroom, though he thought it had probably been a long time since there’d been any kind of jollities to be had here. Times past this grand house would have been alive with a different kind of activity every day: socialising and drinking, dancing and swinging, all without a damn care in the world. Wilkins leant against the stone balustrade and lit a cigarette, flicking the spent match into an ornamental fish pond below, wondering if there would ever be a return to such carefree, innocent times.