The Laughing Plague - A "Crossed" TL

The third COBRA meeting of the day didn't prove to be any more cheery than the last two. At least now they had a little more information to work with. None of it was good. A brief phone call with President Pence had confirmed the American's were in an even worse situation. The UK's only good bit of fortune was the first cases breaking out in a relatively rural area, at least initially in the immediate area.

"We're going to lose Reading." Was the blunt assesment of the head of the British Armed Forces. The heads of the three services sat next to him and looked glumly at the solid oak table with ashen faces.

The Prime Minister looked physically sick.

"We tried our best, sir." The General said catching the PMs eye. "We were unprepared for the sheer ferocity of these evil bastards. From what my men on the ground tell me they simply keep coming in human wave attacks. We lost a lot of men to the infection itself. They didnt have the necessary protective gear. We didn't know we would have needed it because we had no idea what we were facing when we first deployed. We wont be caught off guard like that again."

"Hang on General, are you saying we have British soldiers running around with this thing?" The PM asked in astonishment.

"I'm afraid so sir. Once the infighting started amongst our forces , our lines collapsed and what scattered units were left amongst our personnel and the police fell back. Four hundred killed in action. Double that MIA or gone over. A right bloody mess. Right now we have hostiles advancing along the M4 from Reading towards Maidenhead and those from the Basingstoke disaster are advancing up the M3 past Woking. Windsor is under threat." General Nick Carter informed the Prime Minister.


"Bloody hell! The Queen!" Johnson sat bolt upright. Queen Elizabeth the Second had been evacuated from Buckingham Palace to the fairly nearby Windsor Castle due to the Coronavirus Pandemic to get her out of the heart of London which had become the epicenter of the UK outbreak.

"We already have Her Majesty on the move sir. She is being airlifted to Balmoral as we speak." General Carter tried to calm the PM. "I am informed she is good health still, if a little understandably upset."

"Yes, yes." Johnson nodded.

"Another thing, sir." Mark Sedwill, National Security Adviser chipped in "its a little odd but incredibly concerning. A number of tweets went out from the Thames Valley Police twitter account a little while back that advised people to head to a number of evacuation centres in the west side of the town. Thousands of people heeded the advice and made their way there."

"Right, aaaand...." Johnson said with mild irritation.

"And every evacuation centre listed on those tweets had been overrun by crossed our satellite images show." He said ominously.

"Why would the police send people to places crawling with the crossed?" The PM asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Exactly, Prime Minister. If it was one or two places then we could have chalked it down to simple miscommunication. But this was ten different places and all in the west side of town that had been overrun. None listed for the north east that was then still held by the army. That means whoever tweeted that did so knowing they were sending people to their deaths." Sedwill said , everyone hooked on his words.

"Everything we have seen so far indicates that the crossed can barely think and act only on impulse. It would be wholly out of character." Priti Patell , Home Secretary dismissed "It could just be some sick internet troll."

"But these tweets came from the official Thames Valley Police account. Only a limited number of people have access. Three in fact that we know of. Two of them are from the Public Relations team in Kiddlington and are both accounted for. Its nothing to do with them. The other, is Chief Constable Ian Adams." Sedwill leaned back in his chair and let that hang in the air for a bit.

"And where is he now?" The Home Secretary asked "We can't be sure its him."

"No we can't. But what leads credence to that theory is that his last known location was the police station at Newbury. He flew down there in a chopper from Kiddlington to observe the Thames Valley police forces response for himself. Now we do know that that station came under attack and that HQ at Kiddlington lost contact with all inside a short while later."

"Still doesn't answer Pritis' question. So far we haven't seen any planning actions from the crossed. They act on impulse. They dont have patience." The PM said but even he too was growing concerned at the possibility.

"I got his number from the Deputy Chief Constable in Kiddlington but no answer. However, let me check something actually." Swedill said having a brainwave . He logged into his Facebook account and typed in "Ian Adams". He had no idea if the man even had a Facebook account but it could be a start in finding him. After a moment of scrolling down dozens of Ian Adams he came across something out of the ordinary.

"Oh...." Sedwill gulped as he clicked on the profile. "Fuck. The one time i really didn't want to be right."

The profile photo was a man in a police uniform holding a severed head up to his own and kissing it. The cover photo above was what really disturbed him far more. It wasn't obscene. Somehow it was worse because of the lack of obscenity. The photo showed a group of perhaps forty or so police officers, their uniforms in various states of blood and vicera cover. It was like a graduation photograph. All of the officers were lined up perfectly with the taller ones standing at the back and the shorter sitting on benches at the front. All sat ridged and stared ahead with stony faces. All bore the cross rash on their face. Front and centre sitting down with his officers was Chief Constable Ian Adams. The caption on the uploaded photo was "welcome to the new order. We're coming for you." Below the photo was dozens of comments from his wife, kids and friends pleading with him to come to his senses. It was heart breaking.

Sedwill passed his phone around the table for all to see.

"God help us all." Johnson muttered with his unkept blonde hair in his hands.

It seems obvious that the whole Northern America and UK is going to be obliterated in this TL.

I guess that Twitter, Facebook and every social medias will be either closed in the following days after a Crossed Oubtreak. No governement can take such risks.

I remember in Kspence92's other Crossed TL, the Crossed were using the 2008 version of Twitter and Facebook to lure people to their deaths and to add them into their ranks.

Of course, especially that France and Low countries have been hit hard by Covid19, I think that French response would be initially to cut off Channel tunnel and reinforced local police with Army units but as far as i know, French Army have only one regiment (the 2nd Dragoons) sepcialized in Biological warfare and two High security labs, we would be definitively hit hard by IDV infection.

Sergeant Brandon Scott of Thames Valley Police huffed in frustration. His promised support had yet to arrive at Castle Royle Golf Club. He had orders to establish a defensive position there and keep the crossed out of Maidenhead. He needn't be told what was at stake if he failed, for just beyond Maidenhead lay London. A sizable force of officers had set up base at the Golf Club on the A4, mostly from the still intact units to the north who had been rushed down, but they had also been supplemented by the remnants of armed response officers who had managed to escape the blood bath at Reading. All in all he currently had fifty six officers under his command and was well aware they would not stand a sustained assault, but with the army units in the area focusing on blockading the motorway's it fell to the police to hold the thin blue line on this particular stretch of road.

He tried not to think of his wife and daughter. He tried not to think of his parents. They had been in Reading when the crossed hit and his desperate phone calls went unanswered. Focusing on the job was all that was left.

"Inspector!" One of the constables under his command shouted as he looked through a pair of binoculars "i think our support is here!"

"About bloody time. Surprised to see its coming from the south though." Brendan mused as a convoy of police vans and some civilian vehicles made their way along the road.

Brendan stood in the middle of the road and raised a hand in the air as the convoy slowed to a halt. A door opened on the front van and a man jumped out of the passenger side.

"Well hello there!" The man beamed in a friendly tone. He wore a Balaclava over his face but was dressed in full police uniform. Upon closer inspection Brendan saw the rank insignia on the uniform. It was the Chief Constable.

"Sir, thank god you're here. We're undermanned here beyond belief." Brendan smiled "As you can see, we've already had a few issues of our own." He gestured to the side of the road where a local council worker was operating a JCB to dig a trench on the grass. Cops wearing gloves and masks were throwing the corpses of recently killed crossed into the ditch. A few dozen had already thrown themselves into police guns and paid dearly for it.

"Mass graves in Gods green and pleasant land eh?" The senior officer shrugged. Brendan saw - or rather didn't see - the faces of the other officers in the vans. They all had balaclavas on.

"Whats the story with the bank robber look?" Brendan asked the Chief Inspector.

"Well, uh, our team have been conducting important operations that would potentially jeapordize future ops should their identity become public." The Chief Constable replied before changing the subject. "So, I'd imagine you've had a time of it. On of the lads in the team was a chef a few years back. Im hold he makes amazing soup. How about we get your guys a well deserved sit down and some soup and a cuppa? I'll have some of my lads cover for you."

Brendan looked at his boss. He wore the uniform of the Chief Constable, and it was most certainly his voice but something felt off. But this was nonetheless his boss and if he was going to order him and his men to take a well earned rest then that was an order he would not refuse.

"Well, i think the lads and the ladies here will take you up on your offer. There's a restaurant in the club. I hope the soup is good." Brendan spoke thinking of his growling stomach.

"Oh, its killer, believe me."


It wasn't even half an hour later when Brendan and his team were finally seated in the Golf Club restaurant. A few of the Chief Constables men lay bowls of tomato soup at the tables.

"Well lads,and ladies too of course, eat up. You'll need your strength for whats to come next, believe me. I'll let you pass your compliments to the chef."

As the police officers eagerly dug in about their soup, Brendan just could not shake the feeling something was wrong. It wasn't just wrong was downright creepy the way the Chief Constable was standing there in a balaclava serving them soup.

Still, that could be dealt with soon enough. He'd earned a bowl of soup after the nightmare day he had had so far. A shimmer caught his eye in the soup. A ring? Yes, yes it was. Had the poor sod who cooked it dropped it in the soup? His wife won't be happy Brendan laughed to himself. He tried to fish it out with his spoon so he could hand the ring back to the owner. The problem with that was the ring was still attached to the owner, or at least the owner's finger. Brendan stared in horror. He whipped his head around to speak to the Chief Constable who had just removed his mask.

"Oh fuck." He managed in barely a whisper. The other officers were now also removing their balaclavas. They all had the cross rash.

"A flawless operation if i do say so myself, inspector. Shockingly sloppy on your part though. Not one casualty amongst my men and just as important, not one amongst yours. Not even time to get a warning out. Went off like a hitch. Now, we will join as one. We are the future. We are the Crossed."

Brendan went to stand up but he was grabbed by the officer next to him.

"You said... they're not ... Intelligent... you said....aahhh fuck..." A red rash was starting to creep across the mans face. He started to smile as he picked up the spoon from the soup and shoved it into his inspectors screaming mouth.

"Open wide sir! Hahaha."


...

The way into Maidenhead was open and with it so was London. Nobody paid much attention to a convoy of police vehicles making their way towards Maidenhead. They were waved through another checkpoint before the convoy split intro three groups, two would turn around and get into the M4 and M3 motorways respectively with the aim of hitting the Army blockades from behind on an effort to infect as many soldiers as possible, whilst the third consisted of just two police vans escorting three articulated lorries that had what the Chief Constable referred to as "ferals" (crossed incapable of following orders) locked inside.

By the time central government had become aware that the head of Thames Valley Police was a national security threat and issued orders for him to be captured or killed, his band of crossed cops had already infected the unit guarding the Golf Club outside Maidstone and were on their way towards the capital.

The trucks contained ferals were initially destined for three locations. One was unload in Whitehall at the heart of the British Government whilst another would unload at Buckingham Palace and the third unload in Piccadilly Circus.

As it turned out the truck destined for Piccadilly decided to a go AWOL on its own mission. Whilst many of the crossed under the Insane Inspectors command possessed a stronger degree of self control than most civilian infected, oftentimes the virus would overpower that and especially when a tempting target would show itself.

That tempting target was Heathrow Airport. By sheer luck the airport was very quiet. At ten o'clock at night during a Global Pandemic no airport was busy, but there were nonetheless still a few hundred people there. The terminals were stormed, grounded planes set on fire and staff and stranded passengers brutally mauled. Information reached Downing Street within ten minutes of the incident and the senior officials made aware that London was being infiltrated. All traffic into London was at that point shut off, with angry motorists being turned back at gunpoint by jumpy troops.

It was too late. The lorries had reached their destination and the doors opened.

The Slaughter of London had begun.