The Undead. The First Seven Days (109 page)

  ‘GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD,’ I swing out and send two undead back to the hell from whence they came. The love flows through me with absolution and each blow is precise, brutal, violent but necessary. I no longer want them to suffer agonising pain. I want them stopped. To kill them swiftly and end this suffering.

  ‘AND FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES,’ I burst through the last line of undead that stood between me and my men. Chris and Clarence step aside and leave a gap for me to take up. I step in and hear as they take up voice with me. Blowers, Cookey and Nick joining in and our voices are strong.

  ‘AS WE FORGIVE THOSE WHO TRESPASS AGAINST US.’ Our combined voices carry and I hear more joining in. Men and women behind us, holding the line, raise their glorious voices and join as we pray loud - and with fresh hope we fight on.

  ‘AND LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION,’ For McKinney we fight on and take them down, new strength flows into us, For the blessed love of Tucker, Curtis and Malcolm we fight and stand our ground.

  ‘BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL.’ Our words taunt them. The undead roar with defiance and attack with ferocity, snarling and growling, but we hold them back and cut them down - and they fall.
  ‘FOR THINE IS THE KINGDOM.’ They surge on against us and they fall as we cut them down. Thousands of voices crying out in exalted prayer as thousands of hands wield weapons and cut down thousands of zombies. The living are taken time and time again, but instead of despair we fight as humans have never fought before. This is not just about survival now; this is good, versus evil. This is right versus wrong.
  ‘AND THE POWER.’ Our voices cry louder, carrying all across the battlefield. Little did we know the strength these words would carry and how they could combine our strength and resolution, when we learnt them at school.

  ‘AND THE GLORY,’ Still we fight on and the tide is turning, they know it because they attack with more violence and surge into us again and again.

  ‘FOR EVER AND EVER,’ we scream out in unison, us the living. Shouting our defiance with glorious words of scripture, against the vile foul things that try to kill us.

  ‘A…G…A…I…N,’ I hear Dave’s voice roar out from somewhere deep within the ranks. I look to the direction and, as one, we turn and fight towards him, as we once more lift our voices and repeat the Lord’s Prayer.

Dave battled through rank after rank of undead. His body twisting and flexing with incredible speed. The knives started off bright and metallic, flashing as they rip through the air to be tugged against throat after throat. Dropping down and severing hamstrings and pausing for the second until he body drops down and digs into the jugular with a short, sharp stab. Pulling away, he leaps up to avoid the mouths lunging forward, arms ready and in position as he plummets back into the rank of filthy zombies. Gallons of blood spilled as artery after artery is opened. Mouth after mouth lunges at him, but he steps away with amazing grace.
  He kills without slowing and the more he does, the faster he gets. The muscles warm up and his heart increases the flow of oxygen and blood causing him to shift a physical gear and generate more incredible speed and power.
  Then something is wrong; a shift in the equilibrium within his mind. He was powering forward, intent on finding Darren and destroying him quickly.

Something changes; his connection with Howie makes him pause and turn back. Fighting with such ferocity that Dave has never shown before, his arms twirling and spinning, his body dropping and leaning as he searches through the gaps for a glimpse of Howie and the others. The sense of change is palpable and he knows something bad is happening, Howie is threatened and Dave curses himself for moving into the ranks too deeply.

With a low growl and a look of pure violence he powers through zombie after zombie, killing and maiming, desperately fighting back towards his friend.
  The undead in front of him become dense, as though they are drawn to something. They block his view and he leaps high to catch a glimpse of Howie faltering and stumbling; his axe swings slow and weak. He pushes on with fear in his heart, his deadly blades becoming dull edged from repeated use. He discards them both and uses his arms to grab at zombie neck after zombie neck, twisting with a violent wrench to snap the spinal column.
  Dave catches another glimpse of Howie dropping down onto his knees and listens as Howie screams out, Dave twists round to see Tucker dead and Curtis being savaged.

The undead seem to know Dave is fighting to rescue Howie and they push into him, blocking his path with body after body.
  In desperation, Dave draws the last set of knives tucked into his belt line and sets to work, slicing jugulars open with frenzied action. Then he hears it, Howie’s voice, weak at first but then strong and it carries across to him.

The Lord’s Prayer is being bellowed out and Dave catches another glimpse of Howie up on his feet, standing ready, his eyes blazing as the whole world seems to pause.

Dave’s heart thrills as he watches Howie explode with power and his voice cries out, loud and true.
  As more voices take up the prayer, Dave pauses and quickly tries to decide which way.
Back to Howie? Or keep going for Darren?

Darren has to be stopped; if he is controlling this lot then taking him down could end this far sooner. With an almost reluctant shrug he once more turns and starts fighting deeper into the ranks. He listens to the words of the Lord’s Prayer booming out in unison. He senses the change in the zombies and watches as they surge faster and quicker. The reaction causes the undead to become more fierce but Dave notices something else. Something that only someone with hundreds of hand-to-hand combat battles would pick up on, the harder they attack, the weaker they become.

Something is changing, they are attacking harder than ever before, but it feels easier to drop them now. Blows to the head and neck have always cut them down instantly, but body blows are also dropping them now. Deep cuts that would easily down a man, but would not affect the undead too greatly, are now causing them to fall. We should be getting beaten back now from the ferocity of their attack, but instead, we are not only holding our own - we are gaining ground.
  They growl and snarl and roar as they attack, driving into us time and again. They are being pushed, something is pushing them harder. They can sense the change in us. We were almost beaten, we were almost stopped and they had the taste of flesh by taking Tucker, Curtis and Malcolm. But now, now we rise up and fight so hard that they feel desperate and attack harder and faster.
  Whatever the thing is inside them, it cannot sustain their rate of energy expenditure for this long, it’s simply too much for their decaying and already dead bodies.
  ‘DAVE?’ I bellow out between axe strikes, desperate to find him.
  ‘HERE,’ I hear his enormous voice, he is close now and we push on harder. Swinging our axes and cutting down many undead as we plough through them trying to reach Dave.

Dave feels them weakening with each blow. Whereas he focussed on the neck and head for each killing move before, now he senses their weakening state and he takes the risk to use the knives as stabbing tools. He thrusts the blades into the chest cavities, it works and they start dropping from stabbing thrusts that before would have had no effect. Now, he works faster, no longer impeded by the necessity to angle himself to take the throat, he stabs out with increasing speed. Puncturing chest after chest. Raining blows out until his arms are just a blur, each arm seemingly working independently. Pistons driving the sharpened points of the knives into the soft decaying flesh. They fall away from him in vast numbers. Each step he takes, he kills and kills.
  ‘DARREN,’ Dave’s parade ground voice bellows out as he plunges into the horde. They close ranks and try to present a solid mass against him.
  ‘I’M COMING DARREN, I AM COMING TO KILL YOU,’ Dave roars out, as his arms spin and drive the knives deep into the chests and throats, puncturing lungs, hearts and brains with each deadly thrust.
  As the last two drop down, Dave pauses.

Open ground in front of him and another solid mass of undead ahead. Howie bursts through the undead lines to his left as his men cut down the final rows of zombies until they too, stand before the open ground and look to the solid mass of undead standing before them.

I hear Dave screaming for Darren and I know we must be close. We drive on, attacking and attacking. Ploughing through them until we burst through their lines and I see open ground ahead of me. A quick glance and I see Dave stood to my right, holding his knives and staring at the solid massed horde.
  There, right in the middle, stands Darren. He has surrounded himself with the biggest and strongest undead. I can see they have been held back.
  The battle still rages behind us, the people from the Fort still reciting the Lord’s Prayer, but they feel distant now. For here, in front of us, is the leader of the undead army.
  ‘Dave,’ I shout over, to alert him we are here.
  ‘I see you Mr Howie,’ Dave replies.

The men behind me cut down the final few undead and then spread out into a line, facing the horde protecting Darren.
  We stand with chests heaving, dripping blood and gore from every inch of our bodies. Our faces smeared with filth but we live, we breathe air and our hearts pump living blood through our veins.
  I lock eyes with Darren Smith, he stands in the middle of his undead bodyguard, and he looks terrible. Pale and drawn with a sickening pallor. Red, bloodshot eyes stare back at me. His brow drops and the feeling of hatred he projects at me is tangible. My mind races with what to say. A smart comment, something witty and inspiring. This is not the time for words though, all that needed to be said, has been.
  The corner of my upper lip curls up and I feel a growl growing in my throat. My whole body pulses with energy. Living energy. I feel more alive in this second than all of the seconds in my life combined. That, I know, must be driving him crazy. His face twitches, and his whole body twitches. Whether this is from the utter rage within him, or the side effects of the filthy infection in his system, I do know not.
  They outnumber us and they are big, mean looking zombies. Every one of them stands motionless staring back at us.
  Darren’s gaze shifts to Dave and he stands, staring at the small man holding a knife in each hand, the blades turned up against his forearms.
  Several of the undead bodyguard suddenly detach themselves and move away towards Dave. They stop and reach their arms round to pull knives out. Each of them holds a deadly looking blade. I count eight, big, nasty looking zombies holding knives.
  ‘Take him,’ Darren growls softly and them men start moving towards Dave.

I turn towards him but Dave holds a hand up to stop me; his eyes never leaving the pack of knife-wielding zombies coming towards him.

I watch closely as Dave stands stock-still. He adjusts his position slowly. One foot moves back and he lowers his body a few inches. His left arm comes forward and he holds it across his chest. The right arm pulls back slightly. Then he does something that Dave rarely does, he smiles. A small wry smile that grows into a big grin that lights his face up. His eyes blazing.
  ‘At last… some decent competition,’ Dave mutters quietly.
  The knife carrying zombies spread out to form a rough circle round Dave. Dave, in turn, remains motionless, apart from his eyes shifting left and right and picking up their positions.
  ‘TAKE HIM,’ Darren spits the words out and they rush in as one.

Movement catches my eye off to my left and I glimpse Jamie moving round to try and get behind the horde in front of us.
  Dave holds his static position until I fear he is just going to wait to be cut down. Then, at the very last second, he takes two steps and leaps high over the undead man in front of him, twisting his body so that he lands facing the undead man’s back. The zombie’s rushing in all collide, as their momentum drives them into each other.

Dave shakes his head once and stabs his knives forward into the zombies neck; sawing viciously and the first one goes down. Dave steps back as they recover and rush at him. After that, it’s just a blur of arms spinning and twirling. I hear the clang of metal against metal a few times. Grunts and growls sound out as Dave punishes them without mercy. He is in the middle somewhere and I know he is still alive, as every few seconds, a knife wielding zombie, staggers away to fall to the ground with blood spurting out of his opened jugular.
  ‘GO,’ Dave roars out from the middle of his knife fight. The order clearly intended for us and we respond instantly. Gripping our weapons tight, we charge forward.
  ‘TAKE THEM,’ Darren screams out and his bodyguard burst towards us.

The vain wanker should have given them weapons too, his belief that firstly, we’d never get this close to him, and secondly, that Dave was the only one that posed a threat to him. Well, his vanity, or the vanity of whatever it is inside him will be his undoing. These undead coming at us are big, strong and full of rage.
  A guttural roar sounds out and I see a long-handled, double-bladed weapon spinning through the air. It embeds deep in the chest of a zombie and he goes flying backwards. Clarence, still roaring, sprints ahead, his hands now empty, and like Dave, he now has some fair competition so chooses to fight on equal terms.
  ‘Fuck that,’ I mutter as I charge in, gripping my axe tighter, in case I get a sudden urge to throw it at someone.