HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (6 page)

She outlined priorities and responsibilities.

She took a group of overwhelmed, confused staff and gave them an immediate focus for their resources and attention.

She allocated priorities to every member of senior staff.

Erin’s first priority was saving healthy people trapped in cabins with sick cabin mates. Neve suggested using the ship’s fire-fighting teams for this purpose.

It made sense. The fire-suits were the closest thing on board to biohazard suits, and the fire response teams were trained for hazardous situations.

‘Treat the violent passengers like fires,’ Neve had said.

So exactly as trained, the fire teams raced to the target cabin, gained access, and then immediately employed a left-hand sweep of the cabin.

Subduing violent passengers proved very different to extinguishing a fire.

A powerful spray in the face from a fire extinguisher disoriented some. If that failed, a three-man clubbing with fire extinguishers worked equally well.

The fire team just needed enough time to extract the healthy people trapped in the cabin.

Fortunately the sick passengers didn’t understand how door handles worked now. They pounded on the doors, ignoring the handles.

Unfortunately, the fire response teams were running low on charged fire extinguishers.

Much more clubbing than spraying proved necessary.

In her team’s wake lay a trail of unconscious passengers.

The healthy passengers were sent, or stretchered, up the aft steps to quarantine areas on decks ten and eleven.

The medical teams used the aft stairs. The fire response teams used the stern stairs. Neve Kershaw’s plan to separate the teams worked well. Everyone could move quickly.

Erin had supervised the extraction of sixteen healthy passengers now.

Other fire teams worked the other decks, but none could keep up.

Even Neve had underestimated the infection rate.

‘Erin! Look out! He’s hot!’

‘Hot’ meant sick.

Erin wasn’t only supervising.

She needed to stop any infected passengers leaving their cabins.

Anyone ‘hot’ had to be stopped.

All the crazies had cabin fever.

They all wanted to escape and attack the first person they found.

So far, three had reached their doorways.

None had passed Erin.

And neither will this one,
she told herself.

A full-sized extinguisher felt impractical to Erin. She balanced a half-sized extinguisher on her shoulder.

Erin judged the charging man’s height and stepped aside. Timing mattered most.

...now.

Erin swung the fire extinguisher two-handed.

Crack!

The fire extinguisher collided squarely with the man’s skull. The man practically somersaulted backward. He hit the deck and didn’t move.

Erin stared down at him.

They run into it every time.

Blood covered the passenger’s pajama pants and feet. A pair of scissors stained the carpet beside him.

Oh, God. We weren’t fast enough.

Her fire team emerged and yanked off their hot, heavy masks.

‘Too late,’ puffed the first man out. ‘His wife locked herself in the bathroom. He broke through. He killed her.’

The crewman pointed at the scissors.

Erin used a thick, black, permanent pen to write ‘V1’ on the door. Neve Kershaw insisted they code the cabins. ‘V’ stood for violent. ‘1’ stood for one sick passenger.

‘Drag him back inside,’ Erin said. ‘We need to keep—’

The scream sounded like audio lifted from a horror movie.

Erin spun.

A woman dashed barefoot into the corridor.

‘Help me!’ she screamed. ‘My daughter’s still in there!’

Erin ran to help.

Shreds of a purple satin nightgown hung from the woman. Bright red welts covered her back.

‘He’ll kill her!’ the woman screamed. ‘He’s gone crazy!’

‘We’ll get her,’ Erin said, moving the woman a safe distance back.

Her fire team rushed into position.

They lined up single file along the wall, ready to storm the cabin.

Erin heard a terrified shriek from inside the cabin.

‘Ready?’ Erin asked her team.

When they nodded, Erin swiped the lock and shoved open the door.

With the door open, Erin should have stepped back.

This time she didn’t.

A terrified teenage girl was curled up on the floor. Over her loomed a hugely muscled man with tattoo-covered arms. He struck the girl again with a thick leather belt.

The girl looked about fifteen.

Erin charged into the cabin.

As the belt came down again, Erin threw herself over the child.

Whack!

Excruciating pain punished Erin’s back. She gripped the girl tightly, keeping her covered.

The man roared and struck again.

Erin braced herself for the pain.

Whoosh.

The leather belt swung past her ear.

Erin saw her fire team had tackled the giant man.

‘Come on,’ Erin yelled at the girl. ‘Get up. Let’s go.’

The girl’s legs barely worked, so Erin dragged her to door.

‘Here!’ Erin yelled to the girl’s mother. ‘Take her to deck ten. Hurry!’

The woman grabbed her daughter, crying in relief.

Erin spun and grabbed her fire extinguisher.

Her team struggled to subdue the giant man.

‘Everyone out!’ she yelled. ‘Let’s go!’

The moment her team ran out, Erin yanked the door shut. The giant man charged the door a second later.

Thump!

Her team dropped their extinguishers and tore off their masks.

Dripping with sweat, exhausted, they stared at the cabin door jumping on its hinges.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Erin. ‘When I saw that girl I couldn’t wait.’

‘He wouldn’t stay down,’ said one. ‘We pounded him. He just kept getting up.’

‘He was huge,’ said Erin.

The pain in Erin’s back felt like a double row of angry wasp stings.

That beating should have hospitalized him
, thought Erin.
But we couldn’t even stop him. We just stalled him a few seconds.

‘Is anyone hurt?’ asked Erin.

All three shook their heads.

‘You did an excellent job,’ said Erin. ‘But we can’t stop now.’

They all nodded, understanding the situation.

Erin very clearly wrote the code on the door to indicate an infected passenger waited inside.

She wrote in extra-large letters because if someone entered the cabin by accident, they probably wouldn’t escape alive.

Coleman unzipped another bag.

Sergeant King handed out weapons.

King’s weapon resembled a tactical pump-action shotgun, but it fired ammunition unlike anything Coleman had ever seen.

The U.S. Military wanted options.

They had tested six new weapon systems.

They all worked, but like all weapons, each had its strengths.

‘How much of this new stuff are we taking?’ asked Forest.

‘All of it,’ Coleman answered.

Coleman knew who performed best with each weapon-type, and King issued them accordingly.

‘A riot?’ asked King. ‘I thought cruise ships were full of old people. What are they rioting about?’

‘Maybe not enough prunes on the menu,’ joked Myers.

Coleman checked his own equipment. ‘People don’t normally kill each other over prunes.’

‘Fatalities?’ asked Corporal Forest. ‘How many?’

‘Unconfirmed,’ said Coleman. ‘That’s why we’re going.’

Coleman scanned the cruise ship’s floor plans.

This ship is massive.

He let the plans seep into his mind like osmosis, trusting that when he needed the details, they would be there.

This will get very messy if we can’t gain control quickly,
predicted Coleman.
It’s too large an area for a six-man team to secure.

He scanned his team critically.

He didn’t have to worry about Corporal Forest. The light-haired, blue-eyed farm boy had been through hell and back with Coleman.

Almost a year ago, forty Marines had stormed the Biological Solutions Research Facility.

Seven had emerged alive.

Corporal Forest was one of those seven.

Sergeant King was another.

Unlike Forest, Sergeant King had emerged from the complex a different man.

King’s closest friend, Corporal Ramon Martinez (a.k.a. Marlin), had been one of the thirty-three Marines killed in that nightmarish operation. He’d burned to death right before Coleman’s eyes.