True Faith

Volume 3: True Faith

by

Sam Lang

*****

Published by Trestle Press

Copyright 2012 Sam Lang

Kindle Edition, License Notes

This
ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook
may not be sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. The

names
, characters, places, and incidents are products of

the
writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and

are
not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to

persons
, living or dead, actual events, locales or

organizations
is entirely coincidental.

*****

A Satisfying End?

London, England.

Andy fiddled with his scope. The long range rifle was perfect for a spot of light entertainment. He hunkered down on the roof and got comfortable. London was a hot spot still, with zombies everywhere, just how he liked it. A shambling form appeared in his scope. Ragged tracksuit bottoms were covered in dirt and grime and an old
hoody
covered the leprous form of the
undead
creature. It was at least six foot tall and fresh blood covered its face. The beast had obviously feasted recently. Maybe there were more people nearby? Its wretched mouth hung open exposing filthy chipped blood stained teeth. The eyes were vacant, staring at nothing, like all the
undead
. The only time they seemed to have any level of alertness was when they spotted food. Some primal urge seemed to awaken in them.

“Your last meal, you over-sized maggot.”

Andy slowly squeezed the trigger. The silence of the once busy York Terrace was interrupted by a single loud crack and the creature’s head exploded like an overripe melon. Andy nodded and smiled briefly. He whistled the tune to Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust and grabbed his rifle. Above him angry disapproving clouds held the promise of rain.
 

A quick dash down the stairwell and Andy was back in his flat.
 
He disassembled the L115A3 rifle and stowed it back in the case. He boiled some noodles up on his little camping stove, adding a pinch of pepper and some curry sauce. He reached for his precious bottle of Tabasco sauce and added a few drops to the noodles. He savoured the noodles, eating every mouthful slowly and thoughtfully. He washed them down with a small bottle of water.

After tidying up, he grabbed his 9mm Browning pistol, an extra clip and two
frag
grenades, his old army favourites. Andy had been stationed at
Catterick
as a training instructor when things had gone bad. Amy, his wife, and his little boy Kieran had not been so lucky. They had been taken from him five years ago. He’d arrived home too late. He vowed as he stared numbly at their remains that he would take vengeance. His one mission in life was taking out zombies and he’d decided he’d get more of them in London than anywhere else. As well as rations and water he’d managed to get a good deal of combat gear from the armoury as his comrades one by one turned from the living to the
undead
.
 

The door locked automatically as he pulled it closed. He was down the stairs and out in the street within moments. He had the Browning out and the safety off as he walked up York Terrace West. His attention flicked back and forth with the alert professionalism of a trained soldier. He soon found himself on
Troughton
Road. Deserted cars were all over the street and houses lined either side. A wretched runt of a zombie feasted on something by the bumper of a
Volkswagon
. It made obscene grunting noises as it buried its face in the blackened mass, making a sickly wet slurping sound.

Andy crept up behind the creature and without a word put a single bullet in its head. It sagged lifelessly. The single gunshot had disturbed a couple of walkers further up the street and they shambled towards Andy with food on their mind, too brainless to realise the danger. He waited with tried and tested patience for them to get within a metre or two before blasting first one, then the other. They both hit the ground with a thud.

Andy walked on in the middle of the road keeping a wary eye out. Gunshots usually got some attention. Further up
Troughton
Road at the junction with
Rathmore
Road a group of about ten zombies milled around the gutted corpse of a small child. It was little more than a skeleton. Perhaps the creatures thought there would be more along soon. They groaned and milled in a circle occasionally bumping into each other.
 
Andy stealthily crept up on them using abandoned cars for cover.
 
He pulled the clip from a grenade and rolled it among the group of zombies.

“Adios boys.”
He yelled as ducked back under cover.

A deafening, but brief, explosion filled the morning air. Andy peeked around the car to see the confused looking zombies crawling around on the floor, none of them now capable of chasing a healthy human.
 
He reached for the handle of a cricket bat in his pack.
 
He quickly smashed the skulls of any zombies still crawling around.
 
Among the desolation of the dead zombies, Andy smiled with satisfaction. He spotted a living rose bush in a nearby garden. He sniffed the sweet scent of one of the roses and gently snapped it from the bush and stowed it into his pack.

Later, on
Westcombe
Park Rail Station, he used the last of his two clips on a number of zombies milling around in the station. During the course of the day, he had not encountered another living soul. He returned to his flat weary and footsore. He felt tired, but all in all he was pleased that it had been a productive and a satisfying day.
Except it hadn’t been, not really.
He felt bone achingly weary of it all.
The constant killing and the loneliness.
He did it with an almost mechanical efficiency. All the passion had gone out of his life and he’d had enough of it. The spiritual ache from the loss of Amy and Kieran seemed worse daily. Andy knew there should be an end to it. The day’s killing and the boom of the exploding grenade had given him an idea and for the first time in years, he felt happy that he now had a purpose.

The following morning, Andy awoke and stretched stiffly. Breakfast consisted of porridge made with water and powdered milk on his camping stove. It was warm and it staved off the hunger pangs. He needed fuel for the day, plain and simple. He ate quietly and mechanically, thinking of the day ahead. Today was the fifth anniversary of Amy and Kieran’s death. He wanted to mark it in a special way, as he did every year. This day would be uniquely special. Today would be a battle and he tooled up with all he would need for the oncoming fight, grabbing equipment and stuffing it into his pack.
 
When he reached the base of the stairwell in his flat block, he grabbed his trusty mountain bike from the cleaner’s cupboard. The morning was cool but breezy. Andy took extra care cycling as he thought of his precious cargo. Walkers occasionally stepped out of the shadows towards him, but Andy was too fast for them. He skirted around the larger groups, it wasn’t worth the risk of going too close.

As he saw St. Paul’s Cathedral in the distance he upped his pace. Dead streets flashed by and corpses littered the capital. A sudden pothole snagged his front wheel and he found himself thrown over the handlebars and hitting the deck with a heavy impact. Groaning he sat up and shook himself. As he stood, an excruciating pain in his ankle brought him to the ground again. He felt his ankle, grateful of his army first aid training and it didn’t seem to be broken, most likely a sprain. A loud groan brought Andy to his senses and he looked up to see a walker looming over him. Training kicked in and he grabbed for the pistol holstered at his waist. The walker was upon him, stiff hands pulling at him as it leaned down to bite. Finally withdrawing the pistol he fired point blank into its gaping maw and the beast fell backwards. Blood splattered him as it fell.
 
Andy wiped his face with his sleeve quickly. Infection was always a real fear when you had close contact. Not that he’d have to worry about that for too much longer.

Andy stood once more and grabbed his bike. He winced at the pain. He leaned heavily against the bike as he limped slowly towards the Cathedral. With a sprained ankle he knew there was a very real risk from the walkers so he kept his pistol out with the safety off.
 
Luckily, Andy made it to the cathedral steps without incident.
 

The outside of the once great building was blackened by fire and bullet holes had made it look ugly and scarred. However, the great cathedral was largely intact.
 
He gasped audibly in pain as he limped inside. Pews were strewn everywhere and where once there was order, solitude and quiet, there was now only the chaos of disorder and destruction. Andy looked at the mangled wreckage of what had once been the organ behind the altar. Andy kneeled before the altar and withdrew a small cardboard tube from his pack.
 
He removed the tape from the top of the tube and removed a single fresh red rose. He placed it lightly before the altar and gave a brief prayer. Tears streamed down his face as he kneeled for several minutes, gaining the courage to do what he must do.
 
From his pack, he removed an old fashioned stereo player, the kind that used to be referred to as a ghetto blaster. He also removed a bundle of dynamite and from his pocket, his trusty Zippo upon which was emblazoned
a skull
and crossbones.

Andy started the CD player on the stereo and set it to repeat. He cranked up the volume to full. Amy’s favourite song had been the version of Mad World which featured Gary Jules. The haunting strains of this song now blasted from the stereo. The cathedral amplified the sound and it echoed beautifully around the ruined place of worship. The acoustics were perfect for amplification. Like a spider in a web, he slowly drew them in. Some were groaning and shambling, others dragging their ruined bodies behind them. Attracted by the noise and the vibration, the walkers slowly filled the cathedral. Amy had always insisted they go to church at least a couple of times a month, so this seemed a fitting way to end it. From his vantage point high in the wreckage of the organ, Andy watched them shamble around in circles, knocking into each other.
 
When the cathedral was packed to bursting with hundreds of zombies Andy whispered, “I’m coming Amy.”

He lit the fuse on the dynamite and leapt into the hoard of flesh eaters as the music played on.

Hide my head I
wanna
drown my sorrow.

No tomorrow, no tomorrow.