Day 128 - Babel - Chapter 24 (1851 words)

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BABEL

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 24

The unmistakable shuddering of the helicopter blades cutting the forest air filled the area that lay open and flat in front of the lodge. Nick had heard the noise from some distance before it got anywhere near where he cutting wood again and at the first sign of it, a noticeable and unnatural sound, he took off at a sprint for the safety of the house, bolting the doors and windows shut behind him and hiding in the cellar below the main entryway. The cellar had a storm shelter entrance at one end, behind the house, close to the wood shed, but both of those were some way from the tree line, deliberately moved far away to avoid fire catching sparks on the main buildings.

He could not see the front lawn, he could not see the helicopter landing or who was in it. He was unsure if he cared either way, no persons on board could be bringing good news if they had come this far to seek him out. Alternately maybe they didn't know who he was and they were just chasing down stragglers, in which case he was still better off here. There were caches of supplies in the house, in the cellar, in the woodshed and beneath it too. He had also buried back ups in case of ever being raided for food or fuel. If they were here for what he had, his possessions and rations, then he just had to avoid being found, he had plenty of back ups out there.

The noise was intensifying to an increase in air pressure that he fancied he could actually feel despite being underground with a few layers of infrastructure between him and the chopper. The blade sound slowed but then oddly took on a echo, speeding up and then slowing down again coming to a stop. Nick wondered if it were now two choppers, following in close quarters. The silence was soon filled by the noise of people running about, with guns possibly from the clacking noise and the rustle of military gear. The footsteps he heard got louder and heavier until they hit the floorboards of the decking, where they were realised into boots. There was a knock, polite and short a rat-tat-tat on the front door, then a short interval before a follow up was issued. Nick stayed quiet but moved to the rear and the storm cellar exit where he had not yet heard any movement.

“Dr Bianni!” came an inquisitive shout.

Nick froze, this was always a possibility, but it was a shockingly unlikely scenario that would have either survivors among the immune organised and in contact enough to form any cohesive and official element. The chance of anyone having the cure, that was even more remote, possibly impossible. Practically impossible was maybe better, potentially it could have been completely impossible in his mind. He still said nothing and slowly unlatched the door and crept out into the backyard, clearing the way in his line of sight, crouching and running to the woodshed and dropping out of sight again.

“DR BIANNI!!!” The voice was shouting as loud as he could, and now banging on the door. There was a crack and even from his hiding place Nick heard the front door of the house cave and splinter under the weight of a heavy object, be that soldiers boots or a battering ram, the latter being more likely given the heft of the solid wood door.

Nick moved the table that was against the wall, a bench with a vice and a table saw fitted into it, lifting it rather than dragging it, propping it up on a small lever arrangement before pulling the rug aside, opening a trap door and scuttling inside as quiet as possible. The rug was on elastic and snapped back into position, the lever was controlled by a switch in the under floor cavity and with a bang the saw bench fell back into place covering the rug, the trap door in the wood shed that also housed the tools and a secret hidey hole. Nick had planned for every contingency.

He stayed in the dark for well over an hour before the shed was entered and searched for about fifteen minutes before the boots of three or four people stomped out again. It went quiet and he heard the one voice, the same man's as beforehand was shouting his name at various points in and around the house.

At first it was just his name, but then it started getting added to with pleas for him to come out, to talk and that he was safe, they meant him no harm. Eventually the shouting stopped, but the search continued. Nick was comfortable in the dark, he had been living in the woods for a long time now on his own, and some nights were just this black so he was well used to it. They would not wait him out or smoke him out by isolating him, he was ready for the long game.

He lay on the small cot in the corner of the room, and managed to get to sleep in the quiet darkness and stayed that way until a hand shook him awake once more. He sat bolt upright and a man was standing over him laughing and holding out a friendly hand to the shocked and groggy doctor.

“Dr Bianni I presume?” The man pulled the hand back and looked at the men with him, soldiers in uniforms with guns trained on the captive, not blinking or reacting to what the leader was saying to them “Who would have thought I'd ever get to say that? What are the odds?” He stuck his hand out again and flexed his fingers, inviting it to be taken, but Nick was still a little out of it and shrunk away instead.

“Well we can do it the hard way if you prefer?” He obviously did not want to, but as Dr Bianni was still blinking and moving, unwilling to accept the situation, the man clicked his fingers, and made a couple of hand signals to his soldiers who snapped into action.

They flanked the virologist and scooped him up, an hand under each armpit and hoisted him to his feet and half dragged, half carried the man up the steps that rose precipitously up to the small room in front of the wood pile, near the work bench at the north wall of the shed. The man followed them and was still relaying commands to them in silence, despite his ability to speak.

The procession moved inside the main building, through the shattered door and in among a dozen other soldiers and another man, dressed like the first one in civilian clothes. The exchanged glances as the soldiers brought in the confused and terrified Dr Nick. As they sat him down gently on his own settee, his eyes darted about wildly looking for the best escape route, leaping up and towards the window as soon as the arms of the soldiers were clear of his reach. It did not catch anyone by surprise and he was subdued and thrust back into the soft sofa once more, this time a lot less gentler than the first.

The second man looked at the first and nodded at him before going back to what he was doing, which was reading the journals that Nick had been keeping in the lodge.

“Hey, those are private, leave those alone!” Nick tried to stand up again, but sat himself down as the nearest man in camouflage took a menacing step towards him, making him think twice.

“Don't worry Dr Bianni, Nick, can I call you Nick?” The first man said. “Oh I am being rude aren't I, I am Stefan Abramovich, Dr Abramovich if you like. I know all about you Dr Bianni, I feel like we are old friends.” The smile he wore was wide but far from reassuring or friendly.

“Who is he?” Nick indicated the other man who had not spoken, but was obviously unaffected by the Babel if he could read.

“Him? That's...” The other man looked up and snapped a glare at Stefan so quickly you could have sworn it made a sound with the motion. Stefan rolled his eyes at the other man in exasperation before castigating his caution. “Oh For Fuck's Sake Johnson! Who is he going to tell? And even if he did; So! The! Fuck! What?”

Johnson shook his head and went back to reading the journal, speaking in clipped and very English tones as he did “Habits, good habits do not die so easily. It is something you Americans have trouble appreciating.”

Stefan turned back to Nick and shrugged his shoulders “What can you do? These Brits? Can't help but take themselves too seriously can they?”

“What do you want with me?” Nick was feeling very small and suddenly very ill at being trapped so thoroughly and easily in his once thought impenetrable hideaway, his past had reared up again and was bearing down on him ready for … what? Vengeance? Justice? Whatever it was it was three hundred and sixty degree turn around from what he had been thinking what seemed like minutes ago before he had fallen asleep.

“Do you know how we found you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean how we found your little bolt hole, we had just about given up you know and we were going to leave, maybe leave an alarm of some kind in case you showed up again and then.... well we found your hiding place. It was so very well hidden, if it weren't for your snoring we would never have found you.”

Snoring? What snoring, Nick did not snore he slept like a baby, he was sure of it.

“We found the exit vent for one of the air flows near the wood shed, one of the Babels found it, they could hear you snoring echoing up the pipe and they came and found me, and well we traced it back, figured basically where you were, then it was a matter of time. The elastic on the rug, that was missed the first two passes, and only when we tried to remove it totally did we get what was going on.” Stefan smiled, which once again did nothing positive to Nick's mood. “I hope it was a good nap, it certainly sounded like it, it may be the last good one you have for a while.”

Nick felt a cold chill run through his legs, creating a shiver of goosebumps on his flesh. “What are you going to do to me?”

Johnson spoke up without looking around.

“You my good man are going to help us.” Then he walked over and looked tight and close into his eyes “Help us fight off an Alien Invasion.”

“What?” Nick pinched himself hard. Was this an insane delusion after all?