The Undead. The First Seven Days (107 page)

A huge boom on my right and the cannon sends another deadly hail into the ranks of zombies still trying to come down the road.

The cannon crew take the initiative to adjust the aim and focus on the middle section. Once again, the effect is devastating; a large chunk of bodies is simply swept away.
  We keep pouring everything we have at them. Each man and woman is firing with precision and speed that depletes our ammunition as quickly as it cuts them down.

Glancing down the line I see people scrabbling about and looking for fresh magazines. Chris runs back up the vehicle ramp, pauses at the side of the Saxon as Nick shouts down at him and then runs to join me.
  ‘Kids are loaded and away,’ he pants. ‘Nick said he’s got one magazine left after this.’
  ‘We’re running out here too,’ I shout back at him. ‘But look, the end is in sight,’ I point out to the flatlands and rear end of the zombie army now in view.

I run back to the Saxon and the sight of the camp below stops me in my tracks. Thousands of people are standing still and looking up at us, armed with whatever weapons they can find. They stand quietly, not one of them flinching or crying. Something about the visual image stops me in my tracks and I look back to the flatlands and the army moving towards us.
  They still outnumber us massively, but at least I can see the end of them now. They are no longer infinite. There are
finite
. They are a set number, and that number is being reduced with each bullet, arrow and cannon shot sent their way.
  ‘Nick, wait until we run out of ammo, then open up with that last magazine. Keep your fire concentrated on the middle section so we can get out to meet them, you join us as soon as possible,’ I say to Nick as he works with now well practised hands to load up the last magazine.
  ‘Got it Mr Howie, I’ll be right behind you.’
   ‘I’m out,’ Clarence shouts, simply dropping his assault rifle and stepping away.

Within a few seconds, the last of the shots are being fired by Jamie and Dave; their rate of fire with the sniper rifles much slower than the assault rifles.
  Here it is.

The time we all knew was coming.

With hard staring eyes and a nod, Clarence moves round to the back of the Saxon and starts drawing our hand weapons out.
  ‘GPMG NOW,’ Dave roars, as the undead start gaining ground on the road, slowly advancing towards the Fort.

Nick squeezes the trigger for the last time, as the glorious weapon roars to life, spewing its deadly rounds into the zombies and, within seconds, they are being repelled back.
  Dave stands slowly, gently resting the sniper rifle against the wall. He gently rolls his head from side to side, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulder joints. I watch him open and close his hands, making tight fists and stretching the fingers out. He turns to stare at me, his eyes blazing. His hands move behind his back and slowly draw the long, straight-bladed knives out, then he stands motionless with the knives turned up against his forearms.
  A chill runs down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Clarence steps from the back of the Saxon clutching a load of long-handled axes, foraged and saved for us. One by one, my recruits and Chris’s guards take an axe and stand ready and waiting.

Clarence hands the last one out then leans back into the Saxon and draws two more axes out. Each one with a long handle and a double-bladed head. He hands one to me, which I take; a surge of adrenalin pulsing through me as I grasp the weapon and feel the weight.
  ‘Go down, I’ll be right behind you,’ I say to the group.

They nod and turn to start moving quickly down the vehicle ramp.

Dave joins me and we stand together, watching every man and woman walk past us holding a variety of weapons. The rifles and bows now redundant and left by the wall.
  The two cannons each give an almighty boom as they fire their last shots, decimating several ranks of zombies in the process.

The crews abandon their posts and run down the vehicle ramp.

Dave and I start after them, getting a firm nod from Nick as we go.
  ‘Well, this is it, mate,’ I say to Dave.
  ‘It is, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Been a bloody long week, mate.’
  ‘It has been, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Are you ever going to call me just, Howie?’
  ‘No, Mr Howie.’
  ‘You got your knives then?’
  ‘Yes, you got your axe too?’
  ‘Yeah, it’s a good axe.’
  ‘I like knives.’
  ‘I know mate… we did well.’
  ‘We did, Mr Howie.’
  ‘We killed bloody loads of them.’
  ‘We did.’ Dave replies, as we reach the bottom and walk through the silent crowd to the front.
  ‘Still a lot left though.’
  ‘There is.’
  ‘I was worried for a minute.’
  ‘What about, Mr Howie?’
  ‘I thought we’d kill them all and not have any left...’
  We reach the front and I look back at the thousands of people now crammed into the front of the Fort, all of them facing the now open gates and staring hard at the outer wall and the horror that lies on the other side.
  ‘IS THERE A PLAN?’ Someone shouts and every face turns to look at me with expectation.
  ‘YEAH, WE KILL THEM ALL,’ I shout back instantly; that familiar feeling just starting to pluck at my insides.
  ‘WE GO OUT THERE AND WE FUCKING KILL EVERY ONE OF THEM. WE SLAUGHTER THEM AND WE KEEP GOING, UNTIL THE LAST MAN IS STANDING. WE DO NOT GIVE UP, WE DO NOT RETREAT, WE DO NOT BACK DOWN. WE ARE THE LIVING AND THEY ARE THE DEAD.’ My voice roars out, as I feel the anger building inside me.

‘DO NOT GIVE IN. WE HAVE KILLED MANY OF THEM ALREADY. YOU WILL SEE THOUSANDS UPON THOUSANDS OF THEM. BUT WE ARE THOUSANDS TOO AND THEY ARE WEAK AND DEAD. WE ARE ALIVE AND WE HAVE STRENGTH AND WE WILL STAND TOGETHER.’ The recruits, guards and men of the front line stand with faces flushed, as they too allow their anger to course through their veins.
  ‘STAY TOGETHER, AIM FOR THE HEAD AND KEEP A TIGHT GRIP ON YOUR WEAPON.’
  I turn back to face the doors, two men standing ready, grasping the handles ready to pull the big gates open and we wait for the GPMG to run out of bullets.

‘Where are you?’
  ‘I am here.’
  ‘Are you coming?’
  ‘Do you want me to come?’
  ‘You know I do, bring your associates too.’
  ‘No.’
  ‘No?’
  ‘I won’t.’
  ‘Why not?’
  ‘Because you want me, that’s why not.’
  ‘I do want you. I need you.’
  ‘An addict’s words Howie.’
  ‘So?’
  ‘Sarah was right, you’re addicted and you’re enjoying it.’
  ‘No, I am not.’
  ‘Then do it yourself, you’ve had lots of practise and you’re a big boy now.’
  ‘I don’t want to do it myself, I want you to help me.’
  ‘No Howie, I told you there was a cost to using me.’
  ‘I don’t care about the cost.’
  ‘You should care Howie.’
  ‘Why?’
  ‘It will destroy you if you keep using me.’
  ‘I will be destroyed if I don’t, we all will.’
  ‘What about after, what then Howie?’
  ‘There won’t be an after without you.’
  ‘Do it yourself. Do it without me.’
  ‘No. I won’t. It’s not the same without you.’
  ‘You want this fight Howie, you want it.’
  ‘No, I don’t, but it’s here and I have to deal with it.’
  ‘Run, hide, do something else, do anything else.’
  ‘I won’t run or hide.’
  ‘Admit that you want it.’
  ‘I don’t want it.’
  ‘Admit it Howie, admit it and tell me you want it.’
  ‘No.’
  ‘I want to hear you say it Howie.’
  ‘Okay.’
  ‘Say it.’
  ‘Will you help me if I say it?’
  ‘Say it Howie.’
  ‘I want it.’
  ‘Louder.’
  ‘I WANT IT.’
  ‘Louder Howie, I can’t hear you.’
  ‘I FUCKING WANT IT. I WANT THIS FIGHT.’
  ‘Come on Howie, snarl, scream, make me hear you.’
  ‘I WANT THEM TO SUFFER. I WANT REVENGE. I WANT TO KILL THEM.’
  ‘Good Howie.’
  ‘Will you come?’
  ‘I’m already here. I always have been.’

My heart thumps strong in my chest. My rate of breathing increases as my system floods with oxygen and surges with adrenalin. The whites of my knuckles are stark from gripping the handle of the axe so tightly.

I wait for the thumping sound of the machine gun to end. Glancing to my sides I see every man and woman on that front line has a grim and determined expression and eyes full of rage. Lips twitch and snarl as we struggle to hold the anger in check. Eyes narrow and brows become furrowed in these few seconds. I take a step forward wanting to be the first out, wanting that first kill. Dave takes a step forward and joins me, then the rest of the line follows. Followed by the thousands of people behind us all moving forward.

I look left and right with a snarl on my face, unable to contain the growing fury. Snarling faces look back at me; wild animals, feral, untamed. I step forward again, so does Dave and the rest. In frustration, but too full of rage to voice my thought process, I growl deep in my throat and again take a step forward. Dave steps with me and then everyone else does too.
  Then there is silence. Sudden and unexpected. The two men holding the large gates lean forward and pull with all their might. The doors open inwards but it feels slow, so slow. I fear I will explode if I don’t get out there now. I can feel myself inching forward, waiting for that gap to just open enough and I’ll get through it. I feel a pressure across my waist and I look down to see Dave holding his arm out across me.
  ‘We go together,’ he growls but inches forward as he says it.
  ‘Fine,’ I growl back and stretch my arm across his waist too. Both of us pushing against the arm of the other, inching forwards together. I feel another pressure and see Chris on my other side, his shoulder leaning into mine and trying to hold me back. A quick glance and everyone is holding everyone else back. Shoulders pressed tight, arms stretched out. Every one of us wants to be the first so we hold each other back and, in doing so, our entire front line growls and snarls as we inch forward as one, leaning forward.
  The big gates are old, and they are very heavy. The hinges are tight and the gates just brush the ground as they open, causing friction and resistance to the men pulling them.

As the gap widens to a man-size width, they come free and the friction ends. The gates are pulled wide open within a second or two… and there they are. The zombie army is in front of us, in all their decaying, decomposing and fetid glory.
  ‘Ready, Dave?’ I snarl.
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie,’ he snarls back at me.
  ‘READY LADS,’ I roar, as loud as my cracking voice will allow.
  ‘YES,’ Thousands of voices filled with fear and rage roar back at me.
  Dave’s arm drops from my waist, I drop my arm from his and we break free, charging at the wide entrance.
  There’s a guttural, animalistic roar as I am finally allowed to unleash the pure fury inside.

Dave’s voice joins mine, along with Chris, Clarence, Blowers, Cookey and Curtis - Tucker, Jamie and Malcolm. Our voices become many and the sound of it drives us on.
  The gates are only wide enough for a few at a time and we are the first out and heading for the road in the middle.

The deep ditches are now crawling with smoking zombies climbing out onto our side.
  The army of the living facing the army of the dead.

We spread out as we pour through the gate. The undead army speed up coming at us. We speed up and charge at them. They charge at us. The gap between the ditches is our meeting point and we both know it.

As we take the last few paces towards each other, I lift my axe high out to the right, pulling my shoulder back and preparing for the impact. An image of Sarah suddenly fills my mind, safe and protected out on the boats with the children and their mothers. My parents are gone but at least she is safe and the more of these we take down now, the better chance for survival they have.

We go to meet death and we all know it. The power of hope keeps a glimmer alive that maybe we’ll walk away from this, but a conflicting dose of reality makes it known that we stand very little chance.

Ah, Hope says, but there is a chance.

  For Sarah I will go to meet my death.
  For those children and the hope for mankind I will go to meet my death.
  For that slim chance that we can destroy this evil spawn, I will go to meet my death.

My name is Howie. I was named after my father Howard, but it became too confusing to have two Howard’s, so I became Howie.

I am 27 years old and I am the leader of the Living Army.

  I bring death to you.

The undead stretches forward at me, his upper body leans forward and his lips pull back to reveal a row of uneven and dirty yellow teeth.

His movement exposes his neck and I slam the axe blade into it, slicing through cleanly and the head simply drops from view. The first drops of blood are spilled and, if nothing else, I will know that I did that. I drew first blood in this battle. The axe drives on in the powerful arc as the blade bites into the face of the next undead; cleaving through the cheekbone and taking half the face off. I twist round and use my momentum to ram my right shoulder into the next one. He gets propelled backwards and I uppercut the axe into his groin, almost cutting him in half.
  I glimpse Dave dropping low and driving forward to plough through the first few lines to rise up deep within their ranks.