The Left Series (Book 6): Left On An Island (26 page)

Chapter Forty-Three

Smith was surprised how much devastation the explosive C-4 had caused. He hadn’t used the stuff for a long time and was a little out of touch with how potent it was. When the smoke and flying debris ceased, he realized he may have used far too much C-4 when blowing the castle gates. The gates themselves were gone and so too were half the walls surrounding the entranceway.

Smith heard panicked screams and yells of shock and pain coming from inside the castle walls. Search lights blazed on and cut through the darkness surrounding the huge hole at the front of the fortress. Smith pressed himself firmly against the cliff face, ducking behind a jutting piece of rock to avoid detection.

The noise of the pickup truck revving up the track caused Smith to brace himself, ready to bolt from his hiding place.

The truck sped up the slope and into view. Lowie had the headlights on dim and Smith ran out from the rocks to meet the vehicle. The tarpaulin cover was open and the guys in the flat bed knelt up at either side. Lowie saw Smith and slowed the truck. Smith hurried around to the passenger door.

“Where the hell is Wilde?” Smith yelled, jumping inside the cab.

Lowie shrugged and shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.” He glanced at the front of the castle. “Jesus, Smith, you did one hell of a job opening up those gates.”

“Maybe it was a little overzealous,” he admitted. “Okay, hit the headlamps on high and get inside those walls.” He leaned out of the open window. “As soon as we are inside, guys, everybody open fire.” The guys in the back of the truck nodded solemnly. “Let’s go.”

Lowie dumped his foot on the gas pedal and turned the headlights to full beam.           

I grimaced in pain as I felt the hand pull my hair, causing the skin on the back of my head to stretch backward. I twisted but the hand didn’t release its strong grip. A tall figure with long hair stood behind me and groaned. The moonlight briefly shone across a heavily scarred, pale gray face with crooked protruding teeth gnashing in frenzy.

I kicked out and struck the figure’s shin with the toe of my sneaker. I knew it wouldn’t make any difference but the figure did stumble slightly. I still had my handgun drawn and realized I didn’t have the luxury of time on my side. More zombies stumbled from the forest and onto the dirt track.

“Shit,” I whispered to myself.

The figure who held my hair tried to pull me towards those snapping jaws. I really only had one option. I aimed the gun barrel at the crooked set of teeth and fired once. The figure’s head snapped backwards and the hand, at last released the tight grip on my hair.

I didn’t even see the figure drop to the ground. I’d turned and was running up the dirt track before the zombie hit the gravel. The moans and shrieks echoed behind me and I knew the remaining undead would follow me up the track. For now, I’d have to simply concentrate on outrunning them and worry about their presence when I reached the castle walls.

More sporadic gunfire sounded from the summit of the slope. I wondered what the hell was going on up there but I was running towards the chaos so I’d soon find out.

My pace slowed as my breathing became heavier. I half turned and glanced behind me. The moonlight shone across the dirt track, casting a pale glow and illuminating the dozen or so shuffling corpses on my tail. I turned back and continued slugging it up the incline.

The ground began to level out and I saw the castle towers loom above me. The big wooden gates had been obliterated, along with half of the standing front wall. Flames licked the remains of the wooden pillars and stone walls on each side of the dilapidated entranceway and a thick cloud of smoke masked the fortress interior. Christ! What the hell had Smith done? The stench of cordite and smoldering rubble hung thickly in the air and I heard sounds of gunfire blasting from inside the castle’s compound.

Still with my Glock handgun drawn, I slowed to a walking pace as I neared the castle. I moved left into the shadows of the rock face, keeping a vigilant eye on the opening in front of me. I stopped behind a jutting rock, trying to figure out what the hell was going on inside the castle. Loud groans from the pursuing undead became louder as they negotiated their way up the slope. I couldn’t stay put. I had to make my way through the smoke and enter the castle. What lay beyond those stone walls was anybody’s guess. I could possibly be walking straight into the sniper’s or another gunman’s line of fire.

The bedraggled crowd of zombies staggered up the hill and loomed into view. It was possible they wouldn’t see me in the shadows and stumble right on by me into the smoldering castle. My stomach churned and I felt myself bouncing on the spot, unsure of what to do next.

“Shit,” I whispered, trying to figure out what was the best move.

Nothing seemed to be a sure fire right cause of action and I knew whichever option I chose would work out to be the wrong one. It always did.

“Bunch of zombies or gunfight, bunch of zombies or gunfight,” I recited over and over. I didn’t particularly want to face either scenario. 

“Screw it,” I hissed and hurried towards the haze of smoke between the crumbling castle walls. 

Chapter Forty-Four

I held my breath as long as I could when I ran through the choking, gray smoky cloud. Sounds of chaos and confusion came from beyond the haze, shouting, coughing, erratic gunfire, heavy footsteps and people noisily rushing around.

I wanted to see what I was getting myself into before I ran blindly into a shit storm.

I resisted the urge to cough as I took in a large inward breath of smoke. I ducked to the right of the entranceway, moving sideways and keeping my back close to the outer wall. My eyes streamed and I retched as I crept away from the acrid cloud. I coughed into my hand, stifling the noise while my vision cleared.

Chunks of stone and debris from the explosion littered the castle interior. Bright search lights shone from the ramparts down onto the dusty ground into the center of the compound. I saw the Ford pickup truck under the glare of the spotlights, with its lights still on and both doors wide open. A body laid slumped face downward over the side of the flat bed but I couldn’t see who it was. A skinny guy dressed in dark green combat fatigues and holding a semi automatic rifle ran a few yards in front of me, crossing the ground between the outer wall and the center of the castle. He didn’t see me and I retreated slowly into the shadows beside the outer wall.

The smoke cleared slightly and I heard more raised voices. The language sounded Spanish and the tone was definitely hostile. I shuffled to my right to try and get a better view of what was going on near the stationary pickup truck. Two big, dark green colored trucks were parked in a row along the back wall of the castle. A line of low standing stone outbuildings stood on the opposite side of the inner compound behind the blue Ford pickup truck. Dim yellow lights shone through the small windows of the buildings, casting shadows across the foreground. A crowd of armed and green clad militia surrounded a bunch of disheveled figures, kneeling on the ground with their hands on top of their heads.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered when I saw Smith and the rest of our little gang down on their knees, illuminated in the bright spotlights.

Smith’s plan had obviously quickly gone to rat shit and they were now in the enemy’s hands. All bar one, who lay unmoving in the flat bed and looked as though he was either dead or close to it. I couldn’t see Shaun Swann amongst those kneeling before the front of the truck and guessed it was probably him who’d been shot up.

The militia gang poked and prodded at the captured guys with their rifle barrels. They barked in Spanish with intense expressions on their faces. Most had long dark hair sprouting from beneath green cotton caps and their faces were partially masked by long dark beards.       

I wiped sweat from my forehead. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I was one guy with a handgun and a couple of spare magazines. How could I possibly fight this partisan army single handed? The militia seemed to be all over the place, crossing the ground in each direction and scurrying from each wall to the next, up on the gantries above.

I noticed something moving to my left in my peripheral vision. I turned slightly and saw several figures plodding through the swirling smoke at the castle’s entrance. Shrinking further into the shadows, I aimed my handgun at the zombies passing by but they seemed more intent on gaining ground inside the compound. Around a dozen undead staggered into the castle in one solid bunch, followed by a few more stragglers in groups of two’s and three’s. Then a whole tightly packed crowd of zombies bundled across the threshold.

I wondered where the hell they were all coming from. There seemed to be so many. Perhaps they’d seen the explosion from the village and crawled up the incline to investigate.

The militia men didn’t spot the undead at first, I guessed with all the smoke and chaos they didn’t notice them. A guy on one of the upper level walkways cried out from above and the others on the ground quickly swung into action.

A small section of the militia crew opened fire at the oncoming undead. Some fell but the majority of the pack continued forward into the castle grounds. I heard screams of agony as a couple of the militia went down under the undead’s relentless surge. The search lights swept away from the gang in front of the Ford pickup truck and shone the beams onto the countless zombies emerging through the smoky haze.  

I knew if I was going to save Smith and the others I had to act immediately. The longer I waited the more likely none of us would come out of this situation alive. I’d use the chaos to my advantage for once. I moved from my position, hugging the side wall but staying in the shadows and all the while keeping a vigilant eye on the proceedings in the center of the compound.

A few of the militia men moved forward, away from Smith and the others. They raised their weapons and fired at the onrushing zombie horde. Two guys stayed beside the prisoners, aiming their weapons downwards and yelling incessantly.

I crouched on one knee and aimed the Glock at the nearest militia guy’s right kneecap. I held the firearm steady and allowed my breathing to slow, blocking out all the noise and sounds of pandemonium. I fired once. The round took out the guy’s leg, a couple of inches above the point I was aiming at. He squealed and went over sideways, clawing at his comrade beside him. The second guy’s eyes opened wide as he scanned the near ground for the source of the gunshot. He swung his rifle around in wild, swooping arcs. He didn’t see me and I changed my aim, raising the Glock a little so I was lined up in the center of his chest.

I didn’t need to fire another round.

Smith seized on his chance. He sprang up and gripped the sides of the guy’s head with both hands then twisting the man’s skull in one jerky movement. The militia man dropped to the ground and Smith scooped up his semi automatic rifle. Lowie, Freek, Tony and Dan unsteadily rose to their feet behind Smith. Lowie snatched up the injured militia man’s rifle and smacked the butt end into the guy’s face. They glanced around, obviously looking for a way out of the melee.

I decided to risk breaking my cover from the shadows and crept forward into the semi light. Smith didn’t see me so I aimed the Glock at the Ford’s half open side window. I fired and watched the glass shatter around six feet to Smith’s left. He flinched and swung the semi automatic rifle around to aim at my position. Smith saw me and grimaced. I returned a half smile and a small shrug in a ‘
what else could I have done?’
manner.

Smith waved his motley crew forward and they headed towards me. Tony pointed to the body in the back of the pickup truck and sounded some kind of protest. The guy was dead. Nothing could be done for him.

I retreated back into the shadows and Smith soon jogged over and joined me, followed by the two Dutchmen and the remaining two members of the band. I hit a reluctant high five with Dan and then Freek, receiving a nod from Tony and a slap on the shoulder from Lowie. We huddled beside the wall, watching the skirmish in front of us. 

“The plan went well then?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” Smith grunted. “Where the hell did you get to anyhow?”

I hesitated before muttering a response. “I saved your ass didn’t I?”

“That’s a subject for a long debate some other time,” Smith snorted. “Right now, we need to make certain that none of those militia bastards escapes from the castle.”

“Right now, we need to get the fuck out of here,” Tony spat. “Otherwise, we’re all going to end up like poor old Swanny over there.” He nodded to the back of the Ford.