Thrust & Parry: Z Day (3 page)

“As of this moment you are all 7 platoon 5
section.” The guys looked round at each other and smiled. “Dave, Jones, Jolly, Stump. You’re all in Charlie fire team with me. Paddy, you’re my 2ic.” Paddy nodded and instantly produced a notepad and started writing. “You have Reg, Whethers, Pinky and Rim.” Again Paddy nodded as he scribbled it all down. “Reg, Dave, Jones on me. Everyone else go get weapons and ammo.”

“What’s the crack Twitch?” It was Reg that had spoken first. Probably fearing he was in trouble.

“Reg, I want you to have Gimpy. Dave and Jones, you both get Mini-me’s.” All 3 men nodded their approval. Small smiles appearing in the corner of their mouths. “You boys are going to be my firepower. You’re gunna have a shit load of weight and I still need you to move like shit off a shiny shovel. That’s why I chose you lot. You have proven you can handle the weight and that you can get angry if you need to.” All the lads were smiling now. “I’ll have a word with the armorer before you 3 go in. I need to tell him to switch my weapon for a sharpshooter anyway.” There was a slight look of disbelief on the lad’s faces.

“You’re shitting me? With that gun and your eyes there will be nothing fucking left.” Jones mused as they all wandered over to the armoury. By the time they had got there half of Jim’s section had got weapons and were queued patiently for ammo, his was the first section there as the other sections were huddled round discussing stag lists or the Queen’s tash. He pushed past his section and stepped into the armoury. Paddy wasn’t kidding by a shit load of ammo. There was a shoulder high stack on the drill hall floor to be distributed and even so the armoury, which was usually quite a spacey room, had very little room to manoeuvre with ammo boxes stacked up to just above Jim’s head. Ruski looked up as he stepped in.

“Now then Twitch, you think now you have a stripe you can push in front of the privates?” He joked as he flicked through his weapon sign out book.

“It’s all good Ruski, it’s my section.”

“That must be what the CSM wants me for then. He asked to see me but decided it can wait until after your lads have guns.”

“Yeah, speaking of which, my section has 2 Mini-me’s a Gimpy and a Sharpshooter”

“You don’t ask for much do you” He winked “Who’s the lucky fucker to get a sharpshooter?” He asked peering over Jim’s shoulder at the bored looking privates behind me.

“That would be me Sergeant.” Jim beamed.

“Lucky bastard.” He commented as he handed it over for Jim to give him the serial numbers.

Jim oversaw the rest of his section getting weapons and ammo and then took them to one side for them to bomb up. This was taking the ammo out of the cardboard boxes and slotting them into the magazines. SA80’s and the sharpshooter took 30 round magazines whereas the Mini-me and Gimpy usually took box magazines of 100 or 200 rounds. The TA however had no such luxury so he drilled the guys on fitting 50 round to return fire if they came under fire. Any more than this and they would take too long untangling it before firing, any less and there would not be enough rounds to keep the enemy’s heads down before they needed to reload. The rest was neatly layered into one of the pouches on their webbing, ready to be pulled out when a reload happened.

Next, he decided to teach his entire section both Gimpy and Mini-me just in case one of the lads from his section needed to take over. He went round the other sections and borrowed their fire support so that he had more for his guys to practice on. All the other section commanders were sympathetic as he had no combat experience what so ever in his section. On his was round he had a quick word with Taylor.

“You got anything special for me buddy?” He asked as he set down the 2 LMG’s he’d acquired from 2
section by his feet.

“You tell me mate?” He stepped to one side and Jim poked his head into stores. There were stacks and stacks of Osprey body armour and circular riot shields as well as boxes with small black tubes in them.

“What’s in there?” Jim pointed to the boxes.

“Retractable batons mate, plus an added extra of a few cans of pepper spray each.”

“When do we get them?”

“When the CSM lets me give you them mate.”

“Fair one, when I’m done here could you take my boys through some crowd control techniques?” Knowing Taylors history, Jim thought it would give his lads a much needed edge.

“Sure mate let me know.” He picked up the Mini-
me’s and wandered back to his lads who were practicing load and unload drills with weapon slings instead of belts of real ammo.

“Section Commanders on me.”
Ruski called from the armoury doors. Jim wandered over with the rest of the section commanders to find out what was happening. “Section?” Demanded Ruski as Jim stepped in.

“5 Sergeant” replied Jim expectantly. Ruski made a note and asked for a signature before opening a box with a number 5 on and produced a Sig Saur pistol.

“Pistol, Holster and 5 mags.” Ruski handed them over and Jim stepped out of the armoury to check it was clear. The Sig was a 9mm pistol without a safety catch. Instead it took a lot of pressure to pull the trigger without cocking it first but it meant there was no fiddling with switches and buttons when you need it. He wandered over to the ammo pile and signed out enough ammo to wage a small war with his pistol. He went and sat back over with his section and bombed it up while he watched his section practice. They looked good already.

“5 section fall in for the range.” Paulie was running the range and decided to let Jim’s lads go first as they would take the longest. His lads replaced the support fire weapons and fell in outside the garages to zero their weapons. The pistol range was indoor and 100m long. It had 4 firing points at one side and mechanical paper targets that could be moved right up to check your shots. The back wall was made of thick rubber to absorb the rounds. With sand at the back to catch any that made it through. It was looking well used as the rubber was visibly worn and Jim wouldn’t be comfortable
firing without the sand there. 4 lanes had already been set up so Jim decided to let the other lads go first and take his rifle and fire support through in one go. After every shoot he would go round each lane and advise the lads on better ways to shoot and tell them what they did right. When it came to support fire he had Paulie watch over the other 3 while he, himself, shot. Paulie had done a lot of support fire weekends and even carried a Gimpy in Afghanistan.

He slotted the ear defence on as Paulie gave the safety brief and told each soldier what they should be firing. Paulie then gave the necessary commands to load and cock the different weapon systems and then told the lads to carry on and start firing. Jim was laid down in the prone position as he took off the safety catch and settled himself into the cheek piece. He rested the magazine on the ground and placed each elbow comfortably on the ground to reduce sway. He looked down the sight and aimed the green cross over the centre of the target. He took a few deep breaths and then slowly breathed in and held it. The others were already firing around him but he barely heard them. He was focused. He slowly squeezed the trigger until the rifle kicked in his hand. Its recoil was harder than he expected but the gun didn’t move as his body absorbed it. He repeated the process 4 more times and then applied his safety catch. The target was brought forward and he looked at the holes. The rifle was firing high as the holes were just above the targets head. They were central but too high so he adjusted and reshot. The next set were spot on where he had aimed and all 5 rounds went damn near through the same hole. He decided to reshoot once more just to be sure and once again it was spot on.

Jim took his lads downstairs as the rest of the lads were playing with plasticuffs and riot gear or sizing up their body armour. He took them over to Taylor who issued them all a set of the kit. The plasticuffs were the proper issue ones that were like double zip ties. They were designed for single but easy use. The Osprey were the old issue that didn’t have the built in webbing. Looks like Jim would need his webbing after all. Jim’s section started to wander off to play with their new kit so he called them back into stores and pulled the door to.

“You free to show us now bud?” He asked Taylor as he dropped his kit neatly on the floor.

“Sure but I need a volunteer.” Taylor asked with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Where do you want me?” Asked Rim with a wink.

“Right” said Taylor as he pulled his helmet on, picked up a shield and a baton “I want you to try beat the shit out of me, don’t stop until I stop moving or until I say banana.”

“Safe words already?
But we’ve only just met.” Smiled Rim with a wink.

“Ready?” Taylor said getting into a similar stance as Jim had once seen a Spartan take. Rim charged forward with a yell and brought his hand up as if to chop Taylor in half. Taylor flicked out his baton as he brought his shield up to block the arm, bringing the baton into his ribcage hard. Rim let out a yelp and doubled up slightly. He didn’t get a chance to recover as the flat of Taylors boot caught him in his chest sending him backward into a pole. Taylor followed it up with his shield charging in and catching Rim square in the face with the shield. His nose burst and he slid to the floor sobbing. Over the laughter from the rest of the lads you could just make out what he was trying to say through the blood.

“Banana” he sobbed. Taylor stepped forward, dropping the shield, and offered his hand. Rim took it and straightened up. “You got a tissue mate.” He mumbled through his hands as he tried to stem the blood.

“Here.” He passed him a cloth and Rim tried to stuff half up each nostril.

“Just like a tampon init?” Rim’s smirk was just about visible through the cloth.

“So did everyone see what I did there?” Taylor queried to the rest as Rim regained himself. Jim decided to step in for any more demos as he wasn’t sure Rim could take another one. Taylor took them through several different scenarios of riot control and even showed them a variation of the Turtle that the romans used creating a wall of shields to block anything being thrown at them.

There was no final parade to see the lads off so they just grabbed their weapons and headed off home. Jim grabbed a lift with Rim who didn’t live too far away from him. He didn’t really want to be taking his weapon on the train. Rim had recovered well and was back to his old self. His nose wasn’t broken but was bruised. As they arrived at Jim’s he waved farewell to Rim as he drove off and pulled the brick out to let himself in. He went through the same charade of calming Rube down and letting him out as he dropped his kit by the door and laid his weapon on the dining table. He grabbed his webbing and his daysack and began packing it ready to deploy if he needed to. He needed to find someone to look after Rube. He would have to go back to Jim’s parents again while he was away.

He had also noticed how many of the lads were sneezing and coughing tonight. This seasonal flu was spreading quickly. There was only really Ruski, Paddy and Whethers that didn’t seem affected by it.
Could be fun if they get deployed. They would have to issue cold and flu tablets with the rations.

Jim finished packing his kit, locked all the doors, picked up his weapon and went to bed. He wasn’t used to sleeping at home with a weapon but he always had his weapon at his side when training with the TA. He set his alarm, tucked the weapon in next to him and went to sleep. 

Chapter 3

Jim woke with a start as his alarm buzzed. He had it set to play a slightly out of tune radio station so that it became unbearable and he had to turn it off. He rolled out bed and shuffled over to shut it off. Before he did he heard an ‘urgent announcement’ so re-tuned it to hear it properly. Jim assumed this would be about the riots. Apparently due to a shortage of drivers most buses and trains had been cancelled. Good job he was getting a lift today.  He showered and changed into his suit, let Rube out for a piss and checked his food and water levels again. He was ready 45 minutes early as he forgot to reset his alarm to account for not having to catch trains. He tried calling Dan to find out where he was. PC World was only a short walk down the road so he could wander down and meet him there. There was no answer so he left a voicemail.

“Screw it.” He thought “I can browse the PC’s for a bit until Dan gets there.”

He made sure his weapon was secure and out of sight, said goodbye to Rube and locked the door. He sealed the keys back up and placed them in the hole, carefully replacing the brick as he lost touch with reality once more, dropping his headphones over his ears. As he got to PC world he nearly walked into the automatic doors as they didn’t open. He checked the opening times and found that it should have opened 30 minutes ago. He looked around. It was quiet. No traffic, no pedestrians, nothing. This was weird. He was usually among dozens of commuters rushing to get to work but he saw nothing. The metaphorical tumbleweed bounced past. There was a car in the car park and the door was open.

Jim wandered over thinking maybe it was an employee that had fallen asleep. It was empty. Something wasn’t right, why would the door be open?
Keys in the ignition with no-one in sight. He checked round the immediate area to make sure he wasn’t jumping to conclusions and it was just a commuter desperate for a piss. He found nothing so he leaned in and pulled the boot lever. The boot gave a clunk and he moved round the back of the vehicle pulling open the boot lid. He checked the contents of the boot. He was looking for a weapon. A worn looking tyre-iron sufficed well and he closed the boot. He turned to see someone sprinting over the road in his direction. This wasn’t controlled sprinting though it was mad sprinting like the guy was running for his life. “You ok buddy?” Jim shouted as the guy entered the car park.

“Was this his car? Had I pissed him off?” Jim thought weighing the guy up as he got closer.

The guy was bald on the top of his head with a monk cut round the sides. His puffy face flapped up and down as he sprinted and his cheap shirt was stretched over his expanded gut. For his size he could run. His pants looked to be falling down as he ran but he made no attempt to pull them up. He was about 15 metres away now and wasn’t slowing down. All of a sudden his pants dropped and he went flying face first into the concrete. His head bounced several times as he came skidding to a halt several feet away from Jim who just stood for a moment looking at the slightly comical image in front of him. An overweight pissed off commuter lying face down after a massive face plant with his kegs round his ankles. The body twitched and the guy started to get up.

“You ok buddy? You took a nasty tumble there.” The guy’s head snapped up and Jim saw the extent of the damaged. Half of the skin on his face had been grated off and his jaw was hanging loosely, obviously broken. But what caught Jim’s eye
were this guy’s eyes the pupils were normal but he had no iris, no colour to his eye at all. He started growling at Jim as he got up.

“Could it be?”
Thought Jim as he took a step back “The start of the apocalypse?” Jim decided this guy looked like a Monk that had seriously lost his way. Monk was nearly on his feet again and tried to step forward once more, he fell again but pants ripped with the force and freed his legs. Once again his face bounced off the ground and Jim saw his nose explode over the ground with a crunch. Monk didn’t even seem to notice as he crawled to his feet once more. This time there was nothing stopping him and he ran the few metres between himself and Jim. Jim was ready for him with his weapon up and jabbed him with the blunt end in a hope that he’d snap out of it. It didn’t work. He came back for more and Jim took a hearty swipe this time knocking him down and popping an eyeball out. Monk’s face was a complete mess. His face had little skin left, his jaw broken and his eyeball was hanging loose from its socket. He still looked straight back up and came back for more. Jim took a downward swipe at his head and he hit the floor hard. He followed it up with 2 swift smacks that cracked his head open and exposed his brain. There was now a matted pinky-red mess all over the back of his head.

Jim wiped the tyre Iron clean on Monks shirt and climbed in the car. He needed to get home. Get his boy, get his weapon and get to safety. He turned the key and reversed out of the car park. He didn’t even look where he was going. There was no traffic. No human traffic anyway. He pulled up outside the Chinese takeaway around the corner and, taking the tyre iron with him, walked the short distance on foot. Jim immediately saw a problem. The kitchen door was smashed in and covered in blood. There was a dead body on the floor just inside the door. Jim moved very slowly to the door and checked the body, rolling it over in the process. It was the same as the other one. No iris. There was bite marks on his neck and his head had a morsel of meat holding it on. The bite marks were not human though. They looked like dog bites.

“Rube!” Shouted Jim as he began to panic. “Come here boy.” To his relief he heard the scatter as he ran along the dining room floor and down the stairs. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he realised something was wrong. Rube had a chunk of his ear missing and had the same eyes as the two bodies. He had flesh hanging from his jowls and was pacing forward, eyes fixed on Jim, snarling.

“Rube, No! Not you buddy. Please.” Jim began to well up. Not his boy. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t kill his dog. He loved him more than anything in this world. Rube lowered his head and prepared to pounce. Tears were streaming freely down Jim’s face now. “Please Rube it’s me. It’s Jim, you’re my boy, don’t do this!” He held his weapon ready. Rube pounced, aiming for his neck. Jim rammed the tyre iron sideways into his mouth and
span it round sending rube flying into one of the glass cabinets, shattering it and showering him in glass. Rube let out a loud yelp and Jim forgot himself for a moment and stepped forward to help him, tears still flowing freely, still babbling for him to stop. He couldn’t do this without his boy at his side. Rube recovered quickly, jumping back to his paws, his back right leg was badly broken and it was bending as he stood on it but he didn’t notice. His eyes were firmly fixed on Jim. His fur was now matted with blood and glass as it ran freely from cuts all over his back. He jumped again. This time a lot lower as he couldn’t find the power with his broken leg and Jim managed to land the tyre iron into the side of his temple. Rube landed and lay still. No movement, no breathing, nothing. Jim reluctantly landed another blow into his head just to make sure.

Jim dropped to his knees in front of the body that used to be his best friend. He was laid on his side. Half his head was missing, his back was covered in blood and cuts and his back leg was mangled. Jim just sat there, sobbing as he stroked Rubes good ear. “Why little man, why did they have to take you? What did you ever do wrong?” He nuzzled his head into Rubes ear and sobbed loudly.

He must have sat there for 10 minutes coming to terms with what had just happened and pulling himself together before he stood up and picked up his weapon once more. He had realised in this time what had happened. The guy in the doorway with his neck missing had obviously wandered into the garden doing the aimless zombie act. And Rube had seen him and started barking. Neckless had heard it and gone mental on the door to get in and get at Rube and as he had Rube had attacked him. Neckless got a lucky bite on Rubes ear as Rube was ripping his throat out which had turned him and Rube had wandered upstairs in search of food. He leaned down and planted one last kiss on Rube’s nose before raising his weapon and systematically checking the house. He was on the basement level which had 3 exits. The toilet, the utility room and the stairs to the living room. As he was next to the toilet he opened it but it was empty. Same for the utility room. He edged up the stairs slowly. He only needed to get to the top of the stairs and he would be able to grab his rifle. He reached the top and peeked round. Clear. He tucked the tyre iron into his belt and shouldered the weapon that was tucked next to the large bookcase he had that was full of well-thumbed books and games for any console imaginable. He was now using his FIBUA (Fighting In a Built Up Area) training to clear the rest of the house. It was clear. He had to work quickly he moved downstairs and set the door back in its frame. He dragged the body inside and tucked it into the toilet before carefully moving Rubes body out of the way. He dragged the washing machine over the door to hold it in place. He wouldn’t be here for long. At that moment there was a knock at the door.

“What the fuck?”
Thought Jim as he checked out the kitchen windows up to the front door. It was Dan, he checked Casio, right on time. He took the stairs 2 at a time and grabbed the key from above the door frame and unlocked the door. Dan looked stunned.

“Jim, what the fuck?”
He was looking Jim up and down as his mouth dropped open.

“Look mate I know I don’t look like the type of guy to trust right now but you need to come in, now.”

“What’s going on mate?” He asked eyeing my weapon suspiciously. “I went to PC world and it wasn’t open but there was some guy there with his pants down and half his head caved in.”

“I know mate that was my handiwork.”
Admitted Jim as he perched on the side of a couch. “There are 2 more downstairs.”

“You’re shitting me? But you have that?” He pointed to the gun in my hands “he looked to have been beaten to death.”

“Yeah I’ve only just got this back, only realised what was happening once I’d set off to meet you at PC world.” He motioned at the tyre iron in his belt.

“Mind filling me in a bit?” Jim realised Dan probably didn’t have a clue what was going on.

“Sorry mate, it’s started I think!” explained Jim. “The apocalypse.”

“What?”

“Zombies, they’re here. The guy at PC world attacked me, I picked up a tyre iron out of the car that was there when I realised something wasn’t right and then he came at me so I hit him. His eyes were different, they had no colour to them. I got home and one of them had broken in and got my dog. The dog had killed him but the zombie had changed him. I had to kill him.” Tears stung his eyes at the thought of Rube again. He blinked them away.

“Mate, I think the pressure of this job is getting to you. Those conspiracy theories are going to your head.” Dan was eyeing him suspiciously again.

“Dan, you have to believe me, this is happening. I’m not sure what is causing it but it’s fucked up mate. Didn’t you notice a lack of traffic on the road this morning?” Jim was really trying hard not to sound like a nutcase now.

“Well, yeah but that happens occasionally” Dan looked confused again.

“What? It turns into a ghost town does it?!” Jim persisted. He needed to make him see. If Dan freaked and went to the police, if there
was
any police, then he could end up being stuck behind bars without a weapon when this whole thing kicks off.

“Well no...” Dan now seemed stumped “but that doesn’t mean anything. It could just be an off day.” Jim could see he was trying to find excuses now. He didn’t want to admit the truth.

“Come with me.” Jim moved into the kitchen and Dan followed. He showed him rubes body, followed by the body in the toilet before taking him upstairs.

“All that proves is that you have killed your dog and some guy.” Jim was losing his patience with Dan.

“Look if we find another one of this….things, would that confirm it for you?” He had to make him see.

“Desperate times.”
Thought Jim. He really didn’t want to run into another one but if Dan didn’t see, it was game over.

“Well yeah.” Jim stood and opened the door. The house was the 2
nd
house in on the left of his street. The first one was a beauty parlour that did cheap nails and sunbeds for the giro checking masses who want to look like they are worth more than their living standard suggests. To Jim’s right, just over the road, was the police station. A modern looking, long, rectangular building with a large grassy area to the left of it. The police station was one of the reasons he’d moved here. It was a deterrent at least. Even if the police were unwilling to do much about any criminals.

Jim looked left, scanning the street for signs of life.
Silence. A sound behind Jim made him jump as he span round to see Dan buried in a tissue trying to hock up his left lung.

“Sorry mate” said Dan as he dropped the tissue in the bin. “This flu’s killing me.”

“No worries.” Jim continued his search for life. He opened his mouth to shut out all internal body sounds and concentrated. There was a small whimpering sound coming from his left. It sounded like something in pain but he couldn’t quite make it out. He looked round for the source. The house to Jim’s left had one of the ground floor windows open a crack. He listened again. It was coming from inside.  Jim stepped back inside and closed the door.

“I think next door are in trouble. There’s a whimpering sound coming from their house.” Jim explained as Dan listened intently.