The Hurst Chronicles (Book 1): Hurst (32 page)

Chapter fifty-seven

It was late on the second day after the attack on Hurst when the helicopter was released from its more pressing duties ferrying personnel. Osborne House had been set up as a temporary command center for the newly formed Camp Wight, under the protection of a detachment of marines led by Sergeant Jones.

Peterson had re-established communication with the Royal Navy and now had a permanent liaison officer based in Portsmouth to foster improved relations between the two allies. As a gesture towards reciprocity, Captain Armstrong had installed one of his trusted deputies on board the 
USS Chester 
to act as local guide and pilot to orient the Americans around the Solent waters.

Peterson and the helicopter crew collected Riley from the grassy area next to the lighthouse, where she had been waiting for some time, scanning the skies. Once she was safely on board and the crewmen had helped secure the straps of the jump seat next to the sliding door, they set off in search of Stella at the Chewton Glen hotel.

The helicopter flew low over the trees and houses of Milford, hugging the water’s edge, heading towards Christchurch. Riley braced herself by the open door, thrilled by the sensation of speed, wind blowing in her hair, straining against her seatbelt to see below the aircraft. Her long brown hair flicked in her eyes and face and she held back a handful of fringe with her free hand. With her other hand, she gripping the handle nearest her tightly. They passed over a golf course, where grass grew long and verdant on deserted fairways and greens. Turning inland over Barton-on-sea, they traversed roads and roundabouts clogged with stationary traffic.

She gestured to Peterson to slow down and the nose pitched upwards as they lost speed, coming into a hover above the main road and front gate to the hotel fifty meters below them. Riley leaned out as far as the seatbelt straps would allow. The truck blocking the front entrance was gone. Something was wrong.

She pointed towards the main block and cluster of buildings a few hundreds meters away and Peterson relayed the message to the pilot. They continued onwards following the path of the driveway that curved left and then right past trees and the first of several planted fields and vegetable patches. The fire 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 was being 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. I don’t get it.”

“No-one goes inside without their bio-hazard suits on, 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. There was 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, so directed 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. The 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 fire door, closed as if something was trying to break out from the inside.

The suit muffled Peterson’s voice. “We’ve found something.”

Riley’s eyes were darting left and right, waiting impatiently for him to continue.

“What is it? What did you find?” she implored.

“You need to prepare yourself Riley. I’m sorry but there are many casualties. We’re going to need to limit our time inside. 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 bit of the hotel but recognized 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 just 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 near by. 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 recognized the woman’s face from the canteen, one of the kitchen staff, though they had never spoken. Riley inclined her head sympathetically as tears started to stream down her face, though she couldn’t wipe them away.

Pavlowski heard her sob and was behind her in an instant. “You OK, 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 was non responsive 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 in their chemical suits. Riley spoke to her, but she didn’t seem to recognize her at first or understand what she was saying.

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

Riley grabbed her shoulders and shook her again. The nurse sat blinking up into her face, shaking her head, grasping 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 every few seconds, terrified and confused. Riley tried again.

“Where is everyone? What happened here? Can you hear me?”

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

“Gone where? What happened here?” She shook her again by the shoulders and 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 to do what I can for them, but it’s already too late. I’ve left them there to die. There’s nothing I can do, except make them comfortable.”

“I don’t understand. How did this happen? There was no sickness here when I left.”

“She said the men brought the sickness with them when they came here. Sister Theodora blamed your friend.”

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

“But they may not know they are sick. They could be carriers, unaware that their every breath spreads the virus to others. This is how the virus spreads so fast. People carry on, they don’t know they’re sick, 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.

“Can I ask which of the women fell ill first? That might give us a clue who they were in contact with.”

“Let me think. It all happened so fast. Wait, 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.”

“Which girls? 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 its safe to return.”