The Undead. The First Seven Days (39 page)

  I reload quickly and fire into them again. Dave is firing rapidly, aiming his shots and picking them off one by one. I take a second between reloading to watch his shots, and, even from this range, nearly all of them are head shots.

  Dave fires and pulls the bolt back, then fires again - the action repeated over and over as shiny brass shells are expended and launched out of the breech.
  The undead have started to turn now and are shuffling towards us.

  I keep loading and firing and, at this range, I am dropping several with each shot. I don’t expect to kill them, but at least they are knocked over, which will thin them out a bit.

  We move forward slowly, firing and reloading; Dave pulling the strips of bullets from his pockets and slotting them down into the rifle, then pulling the bolt and firing.

  As we get closer, I can see just how many there are: several hundred of them.

  We are whittling away at them and more drop with each shot. I can see the effect of the shotgun now that we are closer; they are torn apart and flung backwards by the power of it.
  ‘MOVE LEFT,’ Dave shouts out and we both start stepping left as we fire.

  The horde reacts and starts to follow us. The plan works slowly and they begin stringing out from the densely packed crowd.
  We keep firing and dropping them from the front, bodies are laying all about and we are doing good work, but, for every one we drop, several more shuffle into view.

  After several minutes, Dave pats his pockets and shouts.
  ‘AMMUNITION.’
  I drop down with one knee in the ground and keep firing, as Dave gropes in the bag and pulls out more clips.

  He pushes more shotgun cartridges into my belt bag.
  ‘Thanks, mate.’
  We maintain this position for a few minutes, with me kneeling down and Dave standing to my right. They are much closer now and the shotgun pellets have less distance and are therefore less spread out, but the effect at this range is devastating and they are hammered backwards, with bits of undead body flying off.
  The undead dropped at the front create an obstacle for those following and many trip over the bodies, which creates more gaps between them, as they struggle to get back up.
  ‘No sign of any super zombies then?’ I say to Dave, as we both reload.
  ‘Not yet, Mr Howie.’
  And then we are back, firing and firing into them and watching as undead zombie soldiers are mown down by the rifle and the shotgun.

  Heads explode, as the bullets enter their foreheads, and rip out the back of the skull; showering the closest zombies with bits of grey matter. Deadly shards of bones from the skulls fly off too and are embedded into more undead brains and flesh.
  ‘I’M ALMOST OUT, DAVE.’
  ‘MOVE BACK.’
  We step more to the left, creating distance from the slow moving horde. I drop down again and Dave rummages through the bag and hands me more cartridges.
  ‘THAT’S IT.’
I pick my shots, aiming into the densest part of the crowd, trying to use the full effect of the shotgun. Within seconds though, the ammunition is gone.
  ‘I’M OUT.’
  Dave fires a few more times, then loops the rifle strap over his shoulder and neck, so that it is secure on his back. He runs round to the back of me as I release the chest and waist clips and Dave pulls the bag down and hands me the axe.
  ‘Leave the shotgun here with the bag, we’ll come back for it,’ I say to Dave, as I take the axe from him.

  Dave draws the knives from the front of the bag and we start moving back to the right, following the path we have just taken. The horde is slow to react and I can see that they are strung out, coming away from the building. We have killed many of them and more are wriggling on the ground, tangled with the bodies they have tripped over.
  We keep moving, until the building is in front of us. The men inside are all staring out of the windows.
  ‘Ready, Dave?’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
  ‘LET’S HAVE IT THEN.’

  We both roar out and charge forward into the undead, the axe is raised and ready and I just see Dave lean forward with his arms out behind him then leap and spin through the air, driving the knives into the back of an undead soldier neck.

  The heat of battle is upon me once again and I chop down at my first undead soldier and the axe slices through his skull. I pull back and move forward again; swinging out and chopping zombies down, as they lunge forward at me.
  ‘COME ON,’ I roar at them. ‘COME TO ME, YOU FUCKERS.’

  I lash out, left and right, cleaving a path through the bodies.

  Blood sprays out and I am soaked by the spray back.

  Dave is twirling and dancing through them, flowing like water and slicing the blades across jugulars and stabbing through the necks and into the spinal columns. I see two come at him, one from the front and one from behind. Dave drops down onto his back and sticks the blades up into their heads, driving the knives into their brains. Then he is up and on to the next one. My aiming is getting better with the axe and I use less power and more skill now; judging the blow and conserving energy, but still the axe destroys them - the sharp blade rips flesh apart, and the blunt end smashes their skulls in.

‘Fucking look at them go… Jesus, fucking Christ,’ Blowers is up on his feet, staring at the two men who have just shot down many of the zombie soldiers while drawing them away from the building.
  ‘Fuck me, look at the small bloke with those knives, have you ever seen anything like that?’ Talley yells out, equally excited.
  ‘Fuck this, I’m going to join in and get some,’ Blowers starts for the door but 2
nd
Lieutenant Galloway-Gibbs blocks his path.
  ‘Private Blowers, you will stand down - they have hundreds to get through yet and they will not make it.’
  ‘They are bloody trying though Sir and we could help. That lot are all facing the other way - we can attack from the rear, Sir’ Blowers screams out, desperate to join the fight.
  ‘Do not question my orders Private, now do as you are told.’
  Blowers was only in the Royal Marines for a very short time, but he met officers and they didn’t talk to people like this. His face hardens and he stares at the officer. Blowers observes the officer swallow nervously while still maintaining that superior sneer.
  ‘Sir, with all due respect, you can fuck off.’ Blowers pushes past the stunned officer, shoving him out of the way.

Talley and the others quickly follow. Tucker tries to push past and looks at the officer.
  ‘Sorry Sir, excuse me Sir,’ Tucker squeezes through and runs down the stairs with his mates.
  ‘Grab anything you can use,’ Blowers yells at them and grabs at a long metal pole used for opening the top windows.

The men rush round, finding anything that can be used as a weapon: wooden chairs, a coat stand and a couple of them turn the classroom tables over and pull the thick wooden legs off.

Tucker tries to find something and comes back with a spatula from the kitchen.

Blowers shakes his head and looks at the assembled men.
  ‘We only met a few days ago, but this lot of fuckers have killed our mates and those two blokes are fighting to get to us. We are going to go out there and fuck them up, got it?’ The men nod; faces stern and ready.
Then they pull the doors open and pour out into the battle, roaring with the charge.

I keep killing them and they keep coming.

  We are slowly beating a path towards the building line, but the undead are dense here and the battle gets harder. I keep having to move backwards, in order to create space. Dave is now just a couple of steps behind me and we are almost fighting back to back, slowly getting surrounded.
  ‘I’M THINKING THIS MIGHT HAVE BEEN A BAD IDEA, DAVE.’
  ‘SWAP PLACES, MR HOWIE.’
  We spin round, so that Dave is facing towards the building and I can cover his back with the range of the axe.
  ‘STAY WITH ME,’ Dave roars and starts slashing his way through. Zombies are dropping down like flies from the amazing speed of his arms.

  He roars and shouts as he attacks them.

  I swing the axe out, battering them away and moving backwards to keep up with Dave. The progress is better now; we are making headway.

  More undead soldiers lurch at me and I drive the axe down on them, then swing back out and knock more down; desperate to get space. Dave is still going: slashing left, right and forward and the body count keeps going up, as his arms whirl through the air, his face slick with blood.
  Then I hear loud shouting and I glance round to see men bursting out of the building holding a collection of weapons - one fat lad has a spatula in his hand.

  They charge into the back of the undead horde and we fight with renewed energy as both sides slaughter a path to each other.

  I scream out and join Dave at the front, lashing out with the axe; battering and cleaving the bodies.

  Dave is screaming and slashing them down and, within seconds, we get to the men.
  ‘GO INSIDE,’ Dave bellows at them and they react instantly to his drill sergeant voice, falling back and running into the doorway.

  One lad stays, fighting and battering at the zombies with a metal pole, screaming abuse and lashing out.

  I run up behind him and grab the back of his shirt and start pulling him back.
  ‘MOVE BACK, GET INSIDE,’ I scream at him and he allows me to pull him back inside the building and slam the door shut.

We all slump down on the floor, gasping for breath. Even Dave looks flustered for once and he is sweating heavily as his chest heaves. I lean back against a wall and slide down, the axe resting by the side of me. The men recover quicker than us, but then we did a lot more fighting than them.
  ‘Good work, lads,’ I say to them. ‘Thanks for the help.’
  The eager faces look at me and the fat lad rushes off and comes back a few seconds later with a large glass of water - he hands it to Dave.
  ‘Mr Howie, first.’ Dave pants and gestures towards me.

The guy’s look at me keenly and I note that they are all in normal clothes and not army uniform.
  ‘Thanks, Dave,’ I take the water and down it in one, then hand the glass back and the lad rushes off to get more.
  ‘Bring two glasses this time, Tucker,’ one of the men shouts as he disappears into the kitchen.

He comes back with two glasses of water, and we sit and drink, trying to get our breathing back under control.
  I wipe the sweat out of my eyes and my arm comes away all bloody.
  ‘That was fucking, amazing,’ One of the men says to me, then they all join in, offering thanks and praise to both of us.

I hold my hand up.
  ‘Really, it’s nothing - just trying to help.’
  ‘That wasn’t nothing… you killed loads of them. That was fucking awesome.’
  ‘Well… we were starting to struggle at the end there, eh, Dave?’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Glad you came out when you did,’ I catch the glances again as they hear Dave call me Mr Howie.

Not again, and I try to intercept before the name sticks.
  ‘I’m Howie and this is Dave.’
  We get a chorus of responses and one of the men stands up in front of me and offers his hand, the same lad I had pulled away.
  ‘Thank you, Mr Howie.’

I shake his hand.

Fuck it, I bloody knew that would happen again, but I’m too exhausted to argue. I’ll tell them later.
  ‘I’m Blowers, Simon Blowers,’ he repeats the action with Dave and I watch with amusement as Dave gives a very quick handshake then wipes his hand down his trousers.  

  I get to my feet and offer my hand to the next one, and I keep going, knowing they will respond and then offer to shake Dave’s hand.

  I smile as he stares at me and then wipes his hand between each shake.
  ‘And who exactly are you, gentlemen?’ A posh man comes down from the stairs and I look up to see him: tall with slicked back hair, he is wearing a smart, green uniform. Not the camouflage dress of the soldiers outside.
  ‘Hello, I’m Howie, nice to meet you.’ I walk towards him with my hand outstretched.  

  He gets to the bottom of the steps and looks down at my blood soaked hand with disdain.
  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, mate,’ I wipe my hand down the back of my trousers and offer it again.  

  He accepts, with a very limp grip.
  ‘Lieutenant Charles Galloway-Gibbs of the British Army Intelligence Corps,’ he drops my hand and I can see that he is itching to wipe his, but too well mannered to do it in front of me.
  ‘Now, I asked you a question, who are you?’

  I stare back at him, quizzically.
  ‘I just told you, I’m Howie and this is Dave.’
  ‘Where are you from?’ He speaks slowly; with a patronising sneer.
  ‘I’m from Boroughfare, why?’
  ‘I mean what regiment are you from?’
  ‘I’m not from a regiment.’

  This bloke is a prick and has irritated me already. The flush of battle is still on me and I can’t help but get bridled by his rude manner.
  ‘You are not from a regiment? Then what, may I ask, are you doing here?’
  ‘We’ve come to steal an APS…’
  ‘APC,’ Dave calls out, from behind me.
  ‘We’ve come to steal an APC and then we saw you lot in here so we thought we’d help.’
  Dave joins me and stands smartly in front of the officer, then, surprisingly, he salutes.
  ‘Sir!’ Dave states, crisply.
  The officer looks at Dave and turns to me.
  ‘Not from a regiment?’
  ‘No, I just told you that, I’m from Boroughfare.’
  ‘He looks like a soldier to me.’ The officer gestures to Dave.
  ‘He was... I’m not.’ I speak slowly, angry at the incredibly rude manner of the man.
   I turn my back on him and look to the men who are standing around the hallway, all of them watching me with interest.
  ‘So there are thirteen of you? Is that right?’ They nod at me, and I can see them glancing back at the officer.