The Undead. The First Seven Days (88 page)

Dave examines the cannon closely, feeling along the surface and peering at the rear end, finally he stands back up and nods.
  ‘Roger, I apologise for being rude, but can you give us a few minutes, please,’ Howie asks.
  ‘Why, yes, of course, call me when you’re ready,’ Roger walks off a respectable distance and turns to face the other direction.
  ‘They’ll come from that direction for sure,’ Howie remarks, looking out to the houses in the distance. ‘And I wouldn’t be surprised if they come round the back, too,’ he adds.
  ‘If the tide is low enough,’ Chris says. ‘But that’s only a matter of six hours or so.’
  ‘Priorities… we need to make everyone aware of what’s happening, we don’t tell them details of how we plan to deal with it, just what the threat is. We know Darren was turned for a while before we knew about it, so we have to assume any of these could be turned too. I think we’ll tell everyone what the threat is then we make secretive arrangements.’ Howie says.
  ‘It’s actually an old tactic,’ Chris explains. ‘In old days, when kings suspected a traitor, they would give each general a set task, some of them would be fake tasks and some real. All of the generals were told not to discuss their tasks with any of the others.’
  ‘Can we do that?’ Howie asks.
  ‘No reason why not,’ Chris replies.
  ‘Right, so we’ve got a massive zombie army coming for us, what do we do?’ Howie asks, staring out over the walls.
  ‘Thin the numbers down, before they get here,’ Dave replies. ‘And we keep thinning the numbers down until we can either meet them equally in battle, or they leave.’
  ‘I don’t think they will leave, and the numbers will be huge by the time they get here. We need scouts out there, so we get notice of when they arrive. We should gather all the weapons in and see which ones will be best; make sure ammunition is distributed evenly. Dave these cannon can be fired, but I guess they don’t actually fire cannon balls, can we use something else?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Grapeshot, lots of little metal things that will spread out, like a shotgun,’ Dave replies.
  ‘Good, how about the GPMG, can we get that up here to fire down? Or is it better on the vehicle?’
  ‘There’s a long slope over there, we should be able to get the Saxon up here,’ Chris replies, looking back  towards the south wall. Howie turns to see a long, wide, grassed slope leading up from ground level to the top of the inner wall.
  ‘Perfect, we can get the Saxon up here with Jamie sniping, see if he can take Darren out early in the game,’ Howie says.
  ‘If we organise quickly we can dig pits, use spikes and caltrops. If there is enough black powder we could rig something up in the housing estate, too,’ Dave says.
  ‘Caltrops?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Sharp metal spikes hidden in the ground, that pierce the feet, it won’t kill them, but it will cause horrible injury and slow them down,’ Chris replies, for Dave.
  ‘I like it, and the spikes?’ Howie asks, again.
  ‘Put them in the ditch and cover them with something, or dig pits and cover them up,’ Chris explains. ‘They’re called Punji sticks.’
  ‘Punji sticks? Sounds nice,’ Howie says. ‘Oh, like the sharpened bamboo canes?’
  ‘Yeah, wood or metal will do it.’
  ‘We’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it in, if you’re both happy we’ll get everyone together, tell ‘em what’s happening and sort how who can do what, according to skills and materials we have available. Once we’ve done that we’ll set up in one of those rooms and use runners to tell them what we want done,’ Howie says, the confidence and natural leadership showing in his voice.
  ‘Agreed,’ Chris responds and Dave nods firmly.
  ‘Roger, thanks for that mate. We need to get everyone together, how can we do that?’ Howie calls out.
  ‘Everyone? That’s a lot of people,’ Roger replies, businesslike, rather than camp.
  ‘Yep, I know, but it’s very important. The Saxon has a loud speaker on it, can we get that inside and everyone gathered round, somehow?’
  ‘Right, yes of course. Leave it with me, I’ll get some people on it now,’ Roger replies quickly, before scampering off back down to ground level.
  ‘It’s gonna be a big fight,’ Howie says, after a pause.
  ‘It will be, Mr Howie,’ Dave replies.
  ‘How many of these fights have you had so far?’ Chris asks.
  ‘A few,’ Howie replies quickly.

Chris looks to Howie and Dave to see the dark looks on their faces.
  ‘There’s gonna be a whole lot of them,’ Chris says ,softly.
  ‘Fuck ‘em, we’ll win,’ Howie says, in a firm voice.

I stare out at the flatlands and look to the housing line in the distance, Dave is by my side, Chris a few steps away.

I hear noise behind me, and turn to see Clarence and Malcolm climb up, to stand with us. No words are spoken. We look to the view before us and each of us thinks of what is to come. After a few minutes, I hear more noise behind me; Blowers and Cookey coming to tell me they have been relieved by some of the Fort’s guards. They are joined by Tucker, chasing after them noisily to try and catch up. They sense the mood and join us looking out, spread out in a line. I almost don’t hear the stealthy Jamie, until he is standing at the end of the line, sniper rifle hanging from his shoulder.
  We stare at what we know is coming our way. What we know is coming to wipe us out. The hatred they have for us,
for
me,
is incredible and thoughts pass through my head that maybe if I offered myself to them they would leave the rest alone. But I know that isn’t true, they won’t stop, until every last one of us is taken and turned.
  Can I do this? Can I fight these things again? Maybe we should turn and run, but the sea is behind us and there is nowhere to run to. We could take boats and ships and sail away, but more of them will be there to meet us, wherever we go. We don’t have boats or ships for several thousand people. Running is useless. Even if we used every vehicle we could find, they will seek us out. We need food, water, warmth and rest. They need nothing.

Injuries hurt us, blood loss makes us weak. Nothing less than death stops them.
  My head spins, I feel like I’m drowning. I’m in too deep and I can’t go anywhere or do anything else now. I dragged Dave across the country to get Sarah and I picked those lads up on the way. Why did they follow me? I’m not a leader, not a soldier. I can’t do this. Self-doubt and fear grow in me. I had Sarah to fight for before, I had something to keep me going, but she is safe now and without that driving motivation I don’t know if I can do this again. The cost is too much. If I fail, then they all fail, they all die. I think of McKinney. Poor McKinney, he followed me and I let him down. He died because of my mistakes. I taunted them and fuelled my revenge by killing too many. The loss of my parents provoked me and I went after them. Poor McKinney followed me and did what I asked and I watched him die, I held his sweet face and he knew he was dying.
  I feel sick, weak and pathetic. But then I look to my left and to my right and I see those men and boys staring out. The fixed eyes, the set expressions.
  No words are spoken.
  No words are needed.
I look behind me to the people going about mundane tasks in the Fort: washing clothes, playing with children and walking between the tents. Smoke drifts up lazily from the cooking points.

The people look like normal people, trying to make sense of their worlds torn apart and destroyed. They are not safe, Sarah is not safe. None of us are safe. The Fort won’t protect us forever. At some point they will get through and then we will all be taken.

The men beside me look resolute and ready, but I feel anything but that. I don’t feel ready for this. We turn and start walking back down the slope. Each step feels heavy and wrong. I feel fake. These battle-hardened men keep looking at me like I have the answers. These are soldiers that have fought in proper wars; they were trained and taught tactics and strategies. I am a supermarket manager; I don’t belong here on this slope with these men. I belong down there with the other survivors. Who am I to take this on and show the way? Who am I to think I could even breathe the same air as these professionals.

As we stride down, the people of the Fort stop and watch us. The sounds of the camp all cease, conversation stills into silence and children stop playing. The new arrivals lining up for checking and details all stand and watch. We are higher than them; we stride like warriors. They know we have fought and will fight again, but they don’t know what’s coming. They look up and I see many faces looking directly at me. Don’t look at me, I am nothing. I shouldn’t be here, let alone out in front with these men following me.
  I can’t do this.

Chris can lead, he’s a proper leader and he should take this from now. Not me.

We keep walking and I notice Dave glancing at me, but I feel ashamed and I can’t look back at him. The others walk in silence behind us.
  We get to the bottom and then have to walk through the camp to get to the front area. I can’t help but look to the people standing, watching me as I pass. Their faces look drained and old. Their skin is taught and tight from the lack of food and sleep. Dirty children with unwashed faces stand and stare at the hero’s as they pass. The hero’s led by a phoney, a fake, a nothing.

I can feel my leg swinging with each step, I am aware of each step and the thousands of eyes standing in silence to watch me. I understand that Roger has spread the word that we need to speak to them all, but suddenly I am not the man to do it. The pressure of so many lives depending on me is too much. Just Dave and I running round quiet streets was one thing, nothing can touch Dave and there was no risk to him, so there was no pressure, all I had to do was get to London and get Sarah, but I made the recruits think I was something special; that I could lead them. I made them believe in me.
  We reach the Saxon and I see Curtis Graves standing by the open driver’s door, he nods at me as I get closer and respectfully moves out of the way; showing deference to the leader, showing that he was in my place but now that I am back, he will stand aside.

I am a joke and none of these men should show respect to me.
  I turn to see the thousands of Fort occupants walking towards us, crowding round the Saxon to hear what we have to say. My stomach flips and I feel sick, my throat is instantly dry. There are thousands of eyes all watching me, waiting for me to speak and more are coming.
  The new arrivals move away from the line, I recognise some of their faces from the night before. I see Sarah pushing through the crowd to stand by the side of Clarence. Clarence is a man-mountain. He looks the part, big and tough. He should do this; he has a deep voice and looks hardened from years of fighting. Chris is a big man too and looks like a leader. But they both look to me; Chris has shown deference too. He could step forward and do this and these people would listen to him and believe in him. Why has he stepped back? Why is he doing this? Can’t he see I’m a fake and out of my depth.
  Leaning into the Saxon to draw the handheld microphone, feels like swimming through mud. My hand reaches out through treacle to switch the microphone on, as Nick drops down from the look-out hole on position with the GPMG.
  ‘You should climb up top, Mr Howie, so they can all see you,’ Nick smiles at me, as he clambers out of the rear doors.
  I pull the cord and realise it is very long, long enough for me to climb up on the top. I wish it wasn’t. I wish I could sit in here, hide away and close my eyes and they would all go away. But instead, I persist in continuing my farce and I clamber out onto the front of the Saxon and then up onto the top. I stand up straight and my legs feel like they will buckle; as I look out at the thousands of faces all staring at me.
  The whole fucking lot of them are staring at me, watching and waiting for the promised speech, the news they have been told I will deliver.

I lift the microphone to my mouth. My thumb is pressed on the button. I look down, Dave is looking out to the crowd. Everyone else is watching me: Cookey and Blowers, Tucker, Sarah, standing next to Clarence, Chris and Malcolm, with arms folded and legs apart.

Jamie, Curtis and Nick stand together. They are closer to the Saxon then the rest, separating themselves from the main.
  I hesitate, as my thumb starts to depress the button. I freeze. I can’t speak. I look at Sarah and I see a proud look on her face. Her brother is standing on top of a military vehicle addressing a crowd of thousands. Why can’t she see I’m a fake, she must see I have frozen. What do I say? What do I tell them?

There is a massive army of undead zombies coming to eat you, but don’t worry, I’m here and even though I have no training or skills I will protect you.

Fuck off. Get off Howie, get down and let a real warrior do this
, I scream at myself, as I feel the panic rising within me.
  I scan the crowd as the fear threatens to consume me; faces old and young waiting patiently. It feels that I look at each and every face in that crowd and they see me for what I am. I look down and see Dave staring at me.

His eyes lock on mine. He knows I am freezing, he can see right through me. Our eyes lock and something passes between us. A warrior born to fight staring at me hard, passing a message. His gaze is intense, so intense. He nods at me, just once and that’s enough.
  I look back up at the crowd and press the button down, my voice booms out, strong and confident:
  ‘There is an army of thousands of those things coming for us. Tens of thousands, maybe more. They are coming and they won’t stop, until every last one of us is dead and turned into one of them.’