Savage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (24 page)

P
rice couldn’t believe how hard he’d
failed.  People always expected him to feel proud of being a member of the
illustrious Parachute Regiment, but they didn’t realise that there was nothing
to be proud of. 
1 Para
wasn’t the pinnacle of the British Army
Special Forces.  The maroon beret was second to one other: the beige beret. 
The sand-coloured beret his father owned. 
Who Dares Wins.
 

Price had twice attempted to pass the brutal trials of
the SAS, but both times he had failed.  The forced marches over the Brecon
Hills left him hospitalised on each occasion.  Being a Para just reminded
him that he would always be second best to a select few who had more ability
than he did – men who were made of sterner stuff.  His father had
always said he was too weak to make it in the elite of the elite, and it had
turned out he was right.  Even now that the world had ended, Price knew
that the SAS would be holed up somewhere, surviving the apocalypse with ease
and turning the air blue with their foulmouthed jokes.  His father might
even be with them; the SAS looked after their own.  They were a
family.  A family that Price had always longed to join but never
would. 
Not like I ever belonged to my own family.
  The
Special
Air Service
was trained for any situation and the dead would be little more
than a minor obstacle to the SAS. 

They would never have let an entire Army barracks fall
to a man with an antique pistol.  I’m a fuck-up.  The Sarge is dead
because I didn’t get my gun up fast enough.  My father will be rolling in
his grave. 

Fuck him.

Price wasn’t done yet.  The carrot-top in the
long black coat might have taken his SA80, but he still had his 9mm tucked in a
holster hidden at his back, beneath his vest.  It always helped to have a
weapon or two hidden. 
Soon as I get chance, that dingo bastard is
taking a dirt nap.

Price knew his life was already forfeit.  The
least a soldier could do before the bodysnatchers came for him was take as many
of the enemy with him as he could.  For the last hour, he had sat on his
hands as required and watched silently as the group of bandits raided the
Colonel
Gadaffi
and snatched at the boxes of military
rations.  The eight-hundred-and-fourteen Operational Ration Packs
contained enough food to feed a man for 24 hours, or a starved survivor for
48.  They also contained water purifying tablets, matches, tissues, tea
bags, and chicken stock.  The bandits had just hit the mother lode. 
The thought of them surviving happily for the next year on those
rations made Price feel sick to his stomach.

Now the bandits had turned their focus to the
armoury.  There were six caches and all had been opened.  The
Australian and his buddies were currently in the process of loading up the
4-tonne trucks with dozens of SA80 battle rifles, Browning 9mm handguns, a
couple of L7A2 General-Purpose-Machine-Guns, and a batch of recreational
hunting rifles.  
The
dingo was strutting around with an L128A1 semi-auto shotgun on his hip like he
knew how to use it – he didn’t.
 The bandits even took a crate
full of
L109A1 HE
grenades. 
They use one of those and the dead will come running from a
hundred miles around.

Corporal
Barker had recovered from the blow to his head and was sat upright beside
Price.  The carrot-top kept a watch on them both, with Price’s SA80 held
loosely to his shoulder. 
He’ll break his collarbone if he pulls the
trigger on that thing.

During
the last ten minutes, the two of them had been sawing away at the zip-ties
around their wrists.  They rubbed the plastic against the sharp edges of
their belt buckles.  It was slow work, but working.

“You
got a plan, Price?” Barker asked him in a whisper.

Price
nodded.  “Yeah, go down fighting.”

“Sounds
good to me.”

“You
got your 9mm tucked away?”

Barker
chuckled.  “Yeah, the stupid bastards didn’t bother to check me. 
They’re almost begging to die.”

“Well,
lets not disappoint them.”

“Let’s
do this for
Haltek
.”

“For
Haltek
.”

Price was just about to leap up and snap his zip-ties
when the bandits formed-up a few feet away.  If it were not for the fact
that the dingo pointed a shotgun in their directions, Price would have followed
through with his plan of grabbing for his 9mm and going down in a bullet
storm.  But the plan was to take the bandits by surprise to maximise their
casualties.  Price wouldn’t even get a shot off if that shotgun went off
in his face.  He grabbed a hold of Barker and shook his head. 
“Wait.”

The carrot-top moved around behind Price and Barker
and pointed the rifle at the back of their heads.  The ginger guy wasn’t
so bad as the others.  It seemed like he would have handled the situation
differently.  The problem was the dingo and the guy in charge. 
The kid who’d put Price on his arse with a judo sweep.
 
He’ll pay for that.

“The trucks are all stuffed full.  All three of
them,” said the stumpy guy Price had tied up in the fire engine.  ‘Lemon’
the other men called him.  The leader of the bandits nodded.  “Good
work.  We’re ready to go then?”

Lemon nodded.

“Great, lets load up and get going then.”

“What about the squaddies?” the dingo asked.  He
was pointing the barrel of the shotgun right in Price’s mug. 
If he
kills me now I won’t even have a chance to reach for my gun.  Fuck!

“Leave them,” said the carrot-top.  “We’ve done
enough already.”

The dingo laughed.  “They’re the enemy.  We
don’t let the enemy go.  They killed Tom and Gavin.”

“Because you fired at them, you fool.  You didn’t
even know Tom and Gavin.”

Both men looked to the leader of the group, but the
younger man just stood there looking increasingly stressed.  It was clear
that the guy wasn’t cut out for leadership.  He was too indecisive –
an obvious people pleaser.  He couldn’t make a decision unless it suited
everyone, and that was never possible.  If anyone should be in charge,
thought Price, it should be the carrot-top.  He was the only one who spoke
up rationally and thought things through.  The dingo was a blagger with an
ego.  Men like him never lasted long on the field, but sometimes they
managed to fuck things up before they went.

The carrot-top shrugged at the leader.  “Kirk,
will you tell Sally to chill out.  We don’t kill innocent people.
 We’ve got what we came for, so let’s just leave.”

Kirk nodded.  “Okay, you’re right.  Everyone
get in the trucks.  We’re leaving.”

“No, we’re not,” said Sally.  “You’re not the boss
of me, mate.  I’m taking those trucks for myself along with anyone else
who wants to join me.”

Kirk’s mouth dropped open.  “N-no you’re
not.  We all stick together.”

“I’m not asking for your permission.  Your men
are coming with me.  They’re tired of risking their necks and having to
share.  They want what’s theirs and I’m going to give it to them. 
Life is better out on the road.”

Kirk said nothing, and in fact he seemed to
shrink.  He was holding no weapon, while the dingo held one of the most
intimidating weapons a man could face.  The carrot-top raised his rifle
away from Price’s skull and aimed it at the arguing members of his group.

Price made eye contact with Barker and nodded
subtly. 
They’re distracted.  It’s almost
time
. 
Price began to slide his hand around to the 9mm at his back.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Sally?” demanded
the carrot-top.  “We picked you up when you were all alone and now you’re
pulling this shit.”

“I don’t owe you people anything.  None of you
have done anything other than let me tag along.  When I did some asking
around, it turned out that this happy little group
ain’t
so happy.  They want to break out on their own.  With the trucks and
the guns, we can take whatever we want.”

The carrot-top shook his head.  He looked utterly
gobsmacked.  Price felt sorry for him, he seemed like a decent guy. 
The man glanced around at the assembled group and waved his arms.  “Who is
a part of this?  Who wants to leave with this piece of shit?  Come
on, if you have the balls to turn your back on the pier,
then
have the balls to stand up for your convictions?  Who wants to go with
Sally?”

The stumpy guy called Lemon didn’t put his hand up,
nor the man and woman Barker had captured by the trucks.  Others did,
though.
 
The group was split. 

The carrot-top looked at Kirk and shrugged. 
“You’re in charge, Kirk.  You wanted this.  You handle it.  Are
you with Sally, or are you going to grow some balls?”

Kirk wobbled on his feet and grew pale.  He
spluttered and glanced around nervously.  “I…I…If everyone is going with
Sally, then we should, too.  We shouldn’t separate after so long
together.  We need each other.”

“And what about the others at the pier?  Anna,
Rene…Poppy?”

Kirk shrugged.  “You do what you want
Garfield.  The guys at the pier are safe.  If you want Poppy then go
back for her.  Nobody is stopping you.”

“You fucking coward,” said the only woman of the group.

Kirk’s face bunched up in anger.  “Screw you,
Cat.  I’m just trying to survive.  Nobody ever said we had to stick
together at the pier forever.  I joined you all much later, anyway. 
None of you treat me the same as the others.  I should have been in charge
of this group months ago.”

Garfield huffed.  “I think you’re showing the
reason why we didn’t put you in charge.  You can’t handle it.”

“Screw you, Garf.”

Garfield didn’t answer back.  He just sighed at
the other man and seemed genuinely sad.  “Fine, Kirk.  You do what
you want.  I’m going back to the pier with anyone who wants to come with
me.  I’ll take the minivan.”

“Me and David are with you,” said the woman.

“Me t-t-too,” said Lemon.

“Okay,” said Sally.  “Then we’ve all made our
decision.  We go our separate ways.  All that’s left to do is kill
the squaddies.”

Price balked.  He had grasped his 9mm in his hand
but had gotten so wrapped up in the bitter exchange between the bandits that he
hadn’t yet brought it around.  By the time he did, it would already be too
late.  The dingo had his shotgun pressed up against his forehead

Price closed his eyes. 
I’ve failed
again.  My father was right. 
That grumpy old git.

Just when Price expected his head to explode, there
was a loud
thud!
  He opened his eyes to see that Garfield had
struck the dingo in his head with the butt of the SA80.  The Australian
went reeling to the ground.  The shotgun he had been holding skittered
away across the pavement.  Blood oozed from a gash on his hairline.

Garfield glanced down at Price and Barker.  “You
two, get up.  You’re not our prisoners.”

Price clutched his 9mm and thought about yanking it
free and firing off a few rounds, but his instincts told him to hold off and
see what transpired.  As much as he should have, he didn’t want to shoot
the carrot-top.

Garfield stood over Sally and growled.  “You’re
done.”

 The dingo laughed.  Blood covered his face
but he didn’t seem to care.  The men and woman who had sought to take off
with the man had faltered.  They glanced at one another nervously and then
shuffled their feet. 
A mutiny only lasts as long as its leader,
thought Price.

“Okay,” said Sally.  “You got me.  I beg for
mercy.”

Garfield shook his head and sighed.  “More than
you deserve, but unlike you I don’t kill people if I don’t have to.  Take
the minivan and get the hell out of here.  If I see you again I’ll take
your goddamn head off.”

Garfield lowered his rifle and started to turn away,
but the dingo sat up suddenly and let off two quick
bangs!
 
Garfield reeled backwards.  His finger squeezed around the trigger of his
SA80.  It bucked violently in his hands and wrenched his shoulder in his
socket just like Price had warned him.  The bullet spread went wide,
clanging off a group of empty oil barrels. 
Clunk
clunk
clunk
!
  The rifle fell to the ground with a
clatter!
 
Another shot rang out and Garfield fell to the ground beside it.

When Price saw the antique pistol that had killed
Haltek
he brought around his 9mm and fired off a tight
grouping right into the dingo’s chest.  The man was dead before he even
knew he’d been shot.  The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air and the
sound of the shots seemed to echo for miles around. 
That’s not good.
 

Immediately, a standoff ensued.  Price and Barker
held 9mms, but were being faced down by an assortment of assault rifles and
other 9mms.  The leader, Kirk, shook his head and did nothing. 
The
guy was a wet blanket.