The Undead. The First Seven Days (74 page)

At first, it was thrilling to be able to cut so many of them down and then it became a job; a necessity that had to be done for survival. But now there is another feeling; a feeling that sends signals to his brain, suggesting that maybe he is doing the wrong thing. These were people, they look like people and he is killing them without mercy. These were people who had children, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. Normal people with lives and he is just slaughtering them. Darren starts to see the effect of the deadly fire and seems to become aware of the bodies being ripped apart and torn, limb from limb. Tears start forming in his eyes and slowly drip down his cheeks, he tightens his grip on the trigger as he battles within himself. Knowing that this has to be done in order to survive but slowly that feeling gets stronger; like a voice in his head, gently telling him to stop.

The voice of his father, telling him this is wrong.
  Darren releases his grip on the trigger and freezes, unable to resist the voice any more and stops watching the advancing horde.
  ‘SMITHY! WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED,’ Howie shouts over, but gets no response, as Darren just stares ahead, with a frozen expression.
  ‘SMITHY, YOU HAVE TO KEEP FIRING, THEY’RE GETTING CLOSER,’ Howie yells, his voice taking on an angry tone.
  ‘BLOWERS, GET ON THAT GUN,’ Howie orders, as Blowers runs to the rear of the Saxon and climbs into the back.
  ‘Smithy, mate, get down,’ Blowers calls up.

He gets no response and calls out again, tugging at Darren’s legs and yelling louder and louder.
  ‘Smithy, for fuck’s sake, you’ll get us all killed, get down now or I’ll fucking move you myself,’ Blowers yells up.

He is forced to strike the back of Darren’s knees and his legs buckle as he drops down from the look-out hole.

Blowers grabs at his shoulder and pulls him away, dumping him on the floor of the Saxon. He climbs up through the hole and takes position on the GPMG, instantly opening fire on the hordes now back in the car park and gaining ground.
  Howie’s face creases with concern for Darren, but his main priority are the thousands of zombies pouring across the road towards them. The pause between Darren stopping and Blowers taking over, has allowed them to get so much closer and they are spread out across the whole of the area now; the weapons cannot cut them down quickly enough.
 
‘Alpha to Charlie, we are being forced back, we have to move, repeat we have to move,’
Dave shouts into the radio, over the constant firing all round him.
 
‘Charlie to Alpha, Roger that, we have enough, move out - I repeat, move out.’
 
‘BACK TO THE VEHICLE,’ Dave shouts out and they all move backwards, still firing as the closest zombies reach the edge of the car park, only a few metres away.
  They turn and run to the rear, covering each other as they clamber in and then over  Darren, who is lying on the ground. Cookey and McKinney pick him up to push him into a sitting position as Darren stares blankly ahead.

Howie climbs into the driver’s seat and fires the massive engines up, pulling away, just as he hears the rear doors slam.
   Howie drives the Saxon straight into the closest zombies and lets the solid metal plating and huge tyres create a gap as they are mown down and forced apart.

The GPMG is still firing away above him and it cuts them down in droves. Howie forces the vehicle onto the road and then straight through them; engaging the four-wheel drive capability to keep the power high. The vehicle forces its way through the still upright zombies and over the already downed zombies. The Saxon bounces as it climbs and drops, but does not slow down; taking the obstacles with ease.
  ‘We’ll tuck in behind the truck,’ Howie yells out to Dave.
 
‘Alpha to Charlie, we are behind Bravo, we will hold this position.’
  ‘Roger that Charlie, moving out now.’
 
The truck pulls out, following the two four-wheel drive vehicles, and heads away from the hospital. Within a short distance, the hordes are left behind and Blowers releases the trigger on the GPMG.
  ‘Is Smithy okay?’ Howie calls out.
  ‘Smithy… Darren mate, are you okay?’ Tucker leans forward, waving his hand in front of Darren’s face.

Darren slowly comes to and focuses on Tucker.
  ‘Wha… what happened?’ Darren stammers, quietly.
  ‘You froze up mate, stopped firing and just froze.’ Tucker says, gently.
  ‘Jesus, I don’t know what happened - I don’t remember,’ Darren says, shaking his head.
  ‘Shock mate, it’s just shock, after everything that’s happened. Take it easy, here… have some water.’ Darren takes the bottle and drinks slowly at first, then drinks big gulps and belches loudly. He smiles back at Tucker.
  ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened,’ Darren says, looking at the concerned faces of the lads staring back at him.
  ‘Don’t worry, mate, you were feeling rough earlier.’ Tucker continues, in the same gentle tones.
  ‘I’ll be okay, I am sorry, it won’t happen again.’
  ‘Don’t worry mate, just relax for a bit,’ Howie calls back as he follows the truck into the maze of side streets.

___________________________________________

Sarah’s head pokes out from the line of the door, peering out down the corridor, looking left and right. No sign of any zombies, no noise either and she gently creeps out to move down the corridor to the stairwell door.
  She leans forward to look through the glass pane and pushes the door open to listen for any sounds. Satisfied, she enters and steps quickly down the stairs, checking each window of the doors as she goes.

She gets down to the level that Charlie lives on and inches her way to the door and looks through the window. Her breath catches in her throat as she sees the corridor is packed with zombies all clustering round Charlie’s front door.

Silly bloody fools
, she thinks to herself.
Their shouting has drawn every undead from the building, but then, if every zombie is in here, then the rest of the building might be clear.
  She keeps to the stairs, moving quickly and checking each window. She didn’t intend to come this far and didn’t bring a weapon, but the urge to check the ground floor is strong and she wants to see if they are through the main door yet.
  At the ground floor, the door doesn’t have a window, so she crouches down to push the door open and peer out from a few inches above the floor. The lobby is clear but she can see to the main doors at the front. The glass is opaque, but she can spot the hundreds of silhouettes on the other side; just a dense, gently moving, mass, blocking the light; casting the lobby into shadows.
  She closes the door and gets back to her feet, biting her bottom lip as she wonder what to do.

There must be a rear entrance? The fire safety officials would have insisted on it, surely
. Q

Quietly cursing herself for not knowing the layout of her own building, she crouches down again and slowly crawls out of the door and into the lobby. Moving slowly and watching the front door, she moves towards the ground floor apartments. She reaches the corridor leading to the flats and looks to the fire escape door at the end. This door has clear glass and leads out onto a small, grassed area, that looks clear.
   Sarah moves quickly down the corridor and reaches the door, there is a safety bar on it,
simply push and walk out
. She tries to peer to the left and right, both sides look clear and to the front is the small lawn separating this block from the next one.

She pushes the bar down, the door opens silently and she breathes in almost fresh air; it is tainted by the acrid aroma of the undead that walk around, a few metres away.
  This is it, the way out. But if she steps out now, the door will close behind her and she will be stuck, weaponless.

Sarah eases back inside and heads over to the stairwell.

Climbing quickly back to her own floor, she heads inside her flat and starts preparing to escape. If they are massed to the front, she might be able to find a way out of the City, going in the other direction.

It’s a crazy plan and she knows it, but she also knows if she waits, she will go mad within days or just become trapped.
  At least this way she is doing something of her own choice.

___________________________________________

‘Did you get everything you need?’ Howie asks Big Chris and the others.

They have stopped in a quiet street to discuss the next phase of the plan; armed men and the recruits stand out on point duty at either end of the small fleet of vehicles.
  ‘Not quite, Doc Roberts gave us a massive list, we got most of it though and loads of medicines from the pharmacy department,’ Chris replies.
  ‘At least that’s something then, we can always try more hospitals away from the City later, if you need to.’ Howie says and Chris recognises the genuine offer.
  ‘We’ve worked well together so far, Howie. Your lot did a good job of keeping them suppressed,’ Malcolm says.
  ‘It was bloody close for a moment or two, one of our blokes seized up, he just froze, poor lad,’ Howie says, dropping his voice down.
  ‘It’s normal, Howie - they’re just kids. The basic training would have assessed them to see what they were like under stress, but they never got that far, did they? It happens sometimes, and those things are still people
sort of
and that will play havoc to a young mind that’s already suffered from all this.’ Chris explains calmly, the voice of experience. Howie can see how he came to be such a natural leader.
  ‘Just take it easy with him and keep an eye on him, maybe get one of the other lads to pair up or something,’ Malcolm offers.
  ‘Yeah, I’ll get one of them to stick close to him, in case it happens again. I do feel for them but there’s no hiding from this, it’s happening and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.’
  ‘Right, so where does your sister live?’ Big Chris switches back to business.
  ‘Dave, have you got that address book,’ Howie asks as Dave pulls it from his bag and hands the brightly covered, small, hardback book over to him.

Howie flicks through the pages with pain in his heart from seeing his mother’s handwriting again, and the names of relatives now gone.

‘Millennium Towers, just off Westferry Road,’ Howie reads out and looks up to see Chris and Malcolm examining a road atlas.
  ‘I got Westferry Road, it’s this big, straight one here,’ Malcolm traces the road with his finger. ‘Any idea which street it is?’ He asks.
  ‘Smithson Street, Mum wrote it down the side,’ Howie says, his head down.
  ‘Yeah, got it, right we can go straight down Westferry, it looks long and straight or we can work in from the back roads,’ Malcolm says.
  ‘We can get to Westferry Circus roundabout and recce from there. If Westferry Road is no good we can go round, but there’s this bloody big bit of water in the middle and only one other road leading over it, at the other end,’ Chris says.
  ‘Try for the roundabout then and see what it’s like, I guess,’ Howie says.
  ‘Okay, slight change to the formation. Saxon up front as lead vehicle Alpha. I will take second position as Bravo and the truck third as Charlie, with you, Malcolm bringing up the rear as Delta again, this gives us two lead support vehicles and offers greater protection for the truck,’ Chris says, looking round at them.
  ‘If the truck is that valuable, send it back now and don’t risk taking it further into their ground, we’ve still got three vehicles left,’ Dave says.
  ‘He’s right Chris, the truck is big and strong and good for ploughing through them but we can’t risk losing it now. I think we should send it back, all those things were coming this way, so it should have an easy ride home,’ Malcolm says, looking directly at his old friend.
  ‘Howie, what do you think?’ Chris asks, to Howie’s surprise - he is just a supermarket manager not a military strategist and he feels honoured to be asked his opinion.
  ‘I have to agree with Dave and Malcolm; the truck’s contents could save many lives. Sarah is my sister but she is one person.’
  ‘Okay, agreed, we send the truck back, which makes the Saxon Alpha, me Bravo and Malcolm as Charlie, we head on this route to the roundabout and see what happens from there.’ Chris says and they part company.

Howie and Dave walk back to the Saxon, with Howie hoping he can remember the new call signs.

He thinks of Sarah and the long days she must have been waiting in her apartment.
  ‘I hope she’s all right mate,’ Howie says.
  ‘Me too,’ Dave replies.
  ‘Gonna be a hell of a scrap getting through them.’
  ‘Not the first one though, is it Mr Howie?’ Dave says, giving one of his rare smiles and Howie laughs.
  ‘No mate, I guess not.’

The vehicles drive back to Tower Bridge and escort the truck to the control room, the main road is still clogged with undead, but they plough through as Tucker uses the GPMG to cut them down as they go.
  Back on the deserted Bridge, Hewitt goes into the control room and lowers it. The two halves drop down, until they connect and the road is normal again.

Rows of zombies that got stuck from the Bridge going up, start shuffling across again as Hewitt raises it a few inches to watch them struggle walking up-hill, then he waits until they almost reach the middle and raises it higher, so they all tumble back. He laughs loudly as he watches the monitors above the control panel.