The Undead. The First Seven Days (94 page)

‘Take what you need, do whatever you need to do - but get it done as fast as possible. We will have to put some guards with you, to make sure you don’t go off and tell other people what you’re doing,’ Chris says, resting his hands on the desk and leaning forward to emphasise his point.
  ‘Excuse me?’ One of the engineers steps forward. ‘What was that about guards and telling other people? He is middle-aged with blond, swept back hair.
  ‘We cannot run the risk of anyone else knowing what our tactics are, so, for now, you will work alone,’ Chris replies.
  ‘Are you telling us or asking us?’ The man asks, politely.
  ‘Listen, I’m sorry it sounds harsh, but it’s the way it has to be, I’m afraid,’ Chris says to the man, equalling his polite tone.
  ‘We were told we could come and go as we needed to, as long as we were checked when we come back in.’
  ‘That was then, the situation has changed.’ Chris says.
  ‘So we can no longer come and go as we please?’ The man asks.
  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Chris replies.
  ‘Tell me, what will happen if we do?’
  ‘Do
what
exactly?’ Chris asks, still maintaining his polite tone.
  ‘If we try to leave or if we try to tell other people of what we are doing?’
  ‘You will be stopped,’ Chris says, curtly.
  ‘How?’ The man asks, his cultured tones not slipping.
  ‘By any means deemed necessary,’ Chris responds.
  ‘I’m sorry? You mean that if we try to leave or speak with the other people in the camp, we will be killed?’ The man leans forward, staring intently at Chris.
  ‘If that is necessary, yes,’ Chris stares back.
  ‘I thought this was a democracy, not a…’
  ‘I will stop you there,’ Chris interrupts pointedly. ‘This is not a democracy and while I understand your concerns, I can only respond by saying there is no alternative. If those
things
coming here find out about our plans, we will lose the best chance we have of reducing their numbers before they get to us. We do not know if anyone in the camp is infected, so we cannot run the risk of people knowing what we are doing. It really is that simple.’ Chris speaks calmly, looking at each of them in turn as his diplomatic skills shine through. ‘Gentlemen, and lady, of course,’ Chris inclines his head to Kelly. ‘There is a huge zombie army coming for us, this is a fact. We have to do what it takes to cut their numbers before they get here. While Howie and I have the skills and knowledge and are prepared to meet them face-to-face, we need your skills and knowledge to try and even the sides. You are trained engineers. You have skills that we simply do not have and we need your help. But it must be done in a controlled environment.’ Chris explains, looking to each of them in turn.
  ‘I agree,’ Kelly responds immediately and with passion. ‘We all heard what Howie said earlier and we know the risks involved. We’ll get on with it and do what we can to help.’
  ‘Okay, I understand but I’m a little uncomfortable with being treated like a slave or having some tyrannical despot ordering me about,’ the man replies, directly to Kelly.

The atmosphere becomes instantly charged and a silence follows his comments.

Chris is clearly struggling to contain his temper and Howie has to bite his own anger down.
  ‘I don’t understand what your concerns are?’ Kelly asks, slowly and clearly.
  ‘My concern is being told this was a safe place and now finding out we are captives to be used as they see fit and without any form of redress - and being told who we can and cannot talk to,’ the man replies.
  ‘We can manage without this man, I think the rest of us understand your need for secrecy and we are happy to comply with that request, is that so?’ Kelly asks the group in general.
  ‘Yes, completely. I am amazed at you, Donald,’ an older man with glasses responds, looking at the outspoken engineer.
  ‘I have the right to question their motives,’ Donald replies.
  ‘You do, but we all know the situation and it would appear you are happy to accept the safety of this place without undertaking any of the risk involved in keeping it safe,’ the older man says.
  ‘That is not the case at all,’ Donald responds, still maintaining a polite and calm manner.
  ‘Donald, we are not on site now discussing the plans with the architect or planning officers. We are in the middle of an event of global proportions, and if we want to live, we have to accept that and deal with it,’ Kelly says.
  ‘I do accept it, but I still maintain the right to question the methods used. This could be one step away from some kind of communist regime where we are being controlled and I simply will not accept it,’ Donald replies.

Chris looks to Howie with a discrete shake of his head. Howie walks to the door and over to the police office.
  ‘Debbie, we’ve got the engineers. We’ve told them what we need doing, but one of them is refusing to agree not to tell anyone else,’ Howie says quickly.

Sergeant Hopewell looks up at him with a concerned expression, eyebrows raised.
  ‘Look, we don’t know if anyone else in the camp is infected and we cannot risk people finding out what our defence tactics are, so we are controlling the access points…’
  ‘I know all of this, Howie,’ Debbie interrupts him. ‘I am concerned…’
  ‘Detain him,’ Ted says firmly, from the back of the office.
  ‘You have to Howie, you can’t run the risk of him telling people or causing dissent,’ Sarah adds.
  ‘How would we detain him?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Leave it to me, there’s a secure room back here that he can sit in for a few hours,’ Ted replies, taking a thick black belt from a hook and fixing it round his waist; handcuffs and black pouches hanging from it.

He takes a police flat cap and puts it on, the peak low to his eyes; instantly transformed from genial Ted to official policeman.
  ‘Where is he?’ Ted asks.
  ‘In the planning room, I think his name is Donald,’ Howie answers.
  ‘Lead the way then,’ Ted says, with a voice full of authority.
  They walk quickly back to the planning room with Howie leading the way. Ted puts a hand out as they reach the door. ‘Which one is he?’ Ted asks, quietly.
  ‘Err, middle-aged, with blond hair, sort of swept back,’ Howie replies.
  ‘Let me go first and do the talking, understand?’ Ted says, not giving Howie a chance to reply as he steps into the room, pausing for dramatic effect as all eyes turn to him.

Ted keeps a stern, impassive face; eyes staring out from underneath the peaked hat. He looks at each person, taking them all in. Years of experience in his manner and an aura of authority ooze off him. Ted nods and steps over to the blond man.
  ‘Sir, are you Donald?’ Ted asks, his eyes staring intently at the man.
  ‘Yes, I am,’ the man replies, clearly shocked at the arrival of a fully uniformed police officer.
  ‘Sir, I need you to understand what I am going to say to you. We will remain calm and we will not react in an undue manner, is that clear?’ Ted says.
  ‘I’m sorry? What?’ Donald replies.
  ‘Sir, as far as we know, this Fort is the last safe place in the country. We have no knowledge of any other surviving colonies or places such as this. Therefore, this Fort may represent the country. Therefore, this Fort also represents the concern of the nation as a whole. I am led to believe that you are causing dissent and refusing to comply with the requests being made to you. I am therefore detaining you in the interests of national security. You will come with me where you will be held in a safe place, without fear of abuse or assault.’
  ‘What? You can’t do this,’ Donald shouts, with a horrified look on his face and quickly steps away. Ted steps forward and takes a firm grip of the man’s wrist, pulling it behind his back and fixing one end of a handcuff on.
  ‘Sir, this
is
happening. These men are doing what is necessary for the protection and survival of all of us. They, and we, do not have time for inconsiderate and selfish people like you. Put your other hand behind your back, thank you. Now you will come with me and be quiet about it.’ Ted spins the handcuffed man round and marches him towards the door.
  ‘Once outside, you will not scream or shout and you will not cause distress or alarm to any other persons within this camp,’ Ted says smoothly and with such firm authority the man complies instantly.

Ted steps through with Donald and turns back to close the door, winking at Howie as he does so.
  ‘Bloody hell,’ Howie mutters.
  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ Chris starts to say, but is cut off by Kelly holding her hand up. ‘Don’t be,’ she says. ‘Extreme times call for extreme measures. I know he’ll be looked after.’
  ‘It did need to be done, I’m afraid. I’ve met Donald on a few jobs and he’s always like that. Very contrary, which normally can be dealt with, but, as you say, extreme times and all that…’ the older man says, calmly.
‘To business, where is this workshop?’ Kelly asks.
  ‘Follow me, we’ll find Roger and get him to lead the way,’ Howie replies.

A few minutes later, they find Roger and follow him round the edge of the camp to the west wall and a set of large, wooden double doors.

Chris had found three guards from the dwindling numbers and briefed them fully and Howie had grabbed a couple of runners and asked them to stay close.

Roger opens the doors up and steps aside as the group files in. Long, wooden workbenches run down the sides with old, battered metal cabinets filling spaces and gaps. Hand tools are pinned to walls with the black outline of their shape etched on, showing their intended space. The smell of grease, oil and coffee is in the air.
  ‘The power tools are in that room in the back, it’s kept locked, but the key should be in the top of that set of drawers,’ Roger explains, pointing to a metal filing unit in the corner.

One of the engineers opens the door and pulls out a single key on a large ring. The rest move slowly down the room, examining the various tools with professional interest.

The rear door is unlocked and the engineer doing the unlocking takes out a small flashlight from his pocket to illuminate the dark interior. The other engineers quickly join him, each taking out a small flashlight as they enter the dark room.
  ‘Bloody engineers, always so practical,’ Roger jokes.
  ‘Is there a generator here?’ A voice shouts from the back room.
  ‘Yes, there’s one here. We can get more for you if you need. We always had plenty of power as we’re so isolated from the main power supply,’ Roger says, walking forward and leaning into the dark room.
  ‘Well, where is it then?’ The voice calls out.
  ‘You’re the engineers, you figure it out,’ Roger answers with mock indignation. ‘This is not my usual environment,’ he adds.
  ‘Got it, hang on, we’ll get some power going,’ another voice calls out.

A few seconds later, a deep rumbling noise comes from the back room and the darkness is dispatched with illumination from the bright strip-lighting overhead. Murmurs of agreement and satisfaction reach them as the engineers mooch through the various tools and equipment.
  ‘Have you seen up there, Howie,’ Chris asks.

Howie follows his gaze to a suspended roof; adding extra storage to the room. Piles of long metal rods are stacked up in one end.
  ‘Perfect, I love it when a plan comes together,’ Howie jokes and looks to see Chris staring blankly at him.
  ‘What plan?’ Chris asks. ‘The whole plan or just this bit.’
  ‘It’s from
The A-Team
,’ Howie says.
  ‘What’s
The A-Team
?’ Chris asks, with a puzzled expression.
  ‘You are fucking, joking right? Christ you’re worse than Dave,’ Howie mutters.
  ‘Of course, I’m bloody joking,’ Chris smiles. ‘So, which one am I?’ he asks.
  ‘Hmmm… I would say Hannibal, but with that beard, it’s got to be BA,’ Howie replies.
  ‘No way, Clarence has got to be BA,’ Chris responds.
  ‘Yeah, fair one, well Dave is definitely Murdoch.’
  ‘Definitely, but you can’t be Hannibal, as that would only leave Face and I’m not being Face,’ Howie says firmly.
  ‘What? Face was great,’ Chris says, shocked.
  ‘In the movie or series?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Both,’ Chris replies.
  ‘Well, you be Face then, if you like him so much - I’ll be Hannibal,’ Howie says, as they start walking back to the planning room.
  ‘No way, I can’t be Face - you’re much better looking than me,’ Chris replies. ‘You’ll have to be Face, I’ll be Hannibal.’
  ‘Nope, shave your beard off and you’ll make a great Face,’ Howie says.
  ‘I pity the crazy fool who tries to shave my beard,’ Chris growls in a deep voice, as Howie bursts out laughing.
  ‘I pity the crazy fool who tries to make me be Face,’ Howie growls back, as they reach the planning room door, entering to drink more coffee.
  ‘What’s next?’ Chris asks.
  ‘
Clarence to the Fort,’
the radio bursts to life with Clarence’s deep voice booming out.
  ‘That is, I guess,’ Howie replies.

Chris smiles as he answers the radio, ‘
Chris to Clarence, go ahead BA.’
  ‘I AIN’T GETTING’ ON NO PLANE,’
Clarence’s voice booms back, making both of them laugh.
 
‘Clarence to Chris, we are on way back, will be with you in a few minutes.’
  ‘Saxon to Howie or Chris, confirm we can see convoy of vehicles coming from the estate.’
  ‘Chris to Clarence, Roger that. Hold at the gates we’ll come to you.’
 
They down the now cold coffee and head back out of the door, walking through the camp; smiling at people as they walk past or stop to stare.
  ‘How’s our man?’ Howie asks Ted.
  ‘He’s all right, he’s asking for a lawyer, so we told him your sister is a lawyer and he’s trying to make a claim of unlawful arrest now,’ Ted smiles.
  ‘Fair one,’ Howie replies.