The Undead. The First Seven Days (101 page)

The diggers have now finished and are moving back down to the Fort, having moved all of the earth taken from the ditches over to the far sides.

The long grass is now cut and being carried over to be stacked by the side of the freshly dug ditches. Men and women are working in the ditches to drive the sharpened stakes through and being followed by more people covering the sections they have completed with the long grass.
  Howie sweeps over to see a van being driven slowly across the large area of land between the first ditch and the embankments, throwing the sharpened foot traps out onto the ground. Then down to the first bank and a group of archers firing into the bank, he watches them practise with firing high and people moving amongst them giving tips and offering advice.
  Down to the deep ditch after the last bank and Howie sees the fuel tanker parked on the road in the middle. Pipes connected to the fuel tanker pumping fuel into the heavy weight hoses they found in the Fort. More people are filling containers and big drums with fuel and rolling them along the ground to be pushed into the ditch. Yet more are people wrapping metal shrapnel into bags and placing them on top of the drums and hoses.
  After the deep ditch there is a wide open flatland to the Fort, now covered with lots of people who listen to Clarence and Brian. The people issued with firearms have laid them down in piles, now many of them hold the hand weapons foraged and brought back by Clarence, found within the compound or brought with them as they fled their homes.

Clarence and Brian do their best to give some simple instruction on how to hold the weapons, and show them basic techniques of swipe, lunge and hack.
  As Howie lowers the binoculars, he realises that nearly everyone in the Fort must now be involved in the defence and preparation, so much for his plans of keeping everything secret.
  ‘Fuck it, Donald…’ Howie remembers the man he had locked up in the police office.

Suddenly the action he took, rests uncomfortably on his mind. At the time, his decision seemed reasonable, the man was delaying what needed to be done.
  ‘Tell Dave I’ll be straight back,’ Howie yells, as he starts jogging back down the vehicle ramp and across the camp.

The sudden thought that they have done something wrong, so very wrong, plagues his mind and it must be put right.
  ‘Where’s that man we locked up?’ Howie asks as he bursts into the police office.
  ‘That’s what I want to bloody know,’ a distressed looking woman standing in front of Sergeant Hopewell’s desk yells out.
  ‘Are you his wife?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Yes I am, they won’t let me see him, they said he’s been arrested.’ The woman sobs with red eyes and tears streaming down her face, she holds the hand of a small, scared looking child.
  ‘Where is he?’ Howie asks Sergeant Hopewell.
  ‘In the back room, Ted’s with him’ she replies.

Howie pushes his way forward and opens the door at the rear, entering a small corridor.
  ‘Ted?’ Howie calls out.
  ‘In here,’ Ted answers and steps out of an open door at the end.
  ‘Is that man in there?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Yes, he’s right here,’ Ted answers puzzled.

Howie moves round Ted and enters the room to see Donald sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, his eyes are also red from crying.
  ‘Donald, I am so very sorry for locking you in here, it was unforgivable…’ Howie blurts out.
  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have questioned you, please can I just go? My wife and daughter are alone and they must be terrified,’ Donald pleads.
  ‘No, you should have questioned us, I was completely wrong to have you detained like this.’
  ‘I didn’t mean anything bad, Mr Howie, I was uncomfortable with what you were asking, but I shouldn’t have made an issue out of it, you’re right there are thousands of people here relying on you and I won’t question you again…’
  Donald stands up slowly, clearly unsure of the change of events, looking at Howie, then at the open door and Ted standing there with a frown.
  ‘So… I can really go?’ Donald asks, tentatively.
  ‘Mate, your wife and daughter are out in the office…’
  ‘Donald! You’re all right…’ the woman from the office bursts in to hold Donald tight, crying and sobbing.

The little girl holds back for a second, until Donald drops down to draw her in close.
  ‘Yes, I’m fine darling, it was all a misunderstanding, really it’s all fine,’ Donald says softly, holding them both.

‘Look… Mr Howie,’ Donald’s wife says. ‘My husband Donald is an argumentative man and he picks the wrong moments to say things and has often caused a lot of offence, so I can understand where you’re coming from. But for him to be taken away like that and with no one telling me why or for how long, that was awful.’
  ‘Yes, you’re right. It was the wrong thing to do,’ Howie accepts, quietly.
  ‘Mr Howie, I do apologise to you for putting you in that position. Is there anything I can do to help now?’ Donald asks, holding his head up and staring directly at Howie.
  ‘The engineers are still hard at it in the workshops, I’m sure they could do with some help.’
  ‘Right, in which case we should be leaving,’ Donald steps forward, holding a hand out to Howie. ‘I understand why it happened the way it did, and for my part I can see you are a genuine man and I’m glad this Fort has you on our side,’ Donald says, as they shake hands.
  ‘Thank you, that’s a very kind thing to say,’ Howie replies.
  ‘And, as soon as society has been re-built, I will be contacting one of those
no win no fee
lawyers for compensation,’ Donald smiles.
  ‘Ha, good idea, I’ll say it was Ted.’
  ‘You won’t be the first, that’s for sure, Ted responds, good-naturedly.
  The family leave the room, still holding each other tightly, leaving Ted staring hard at Howie and nodding gently.
  ‘That took some balls, Howie, well done,’ Ted says, quietly.
  ‘Don’t give me credit Ted, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place,’ Howie replies.
  ‘You did what you thought was right at the time, he wasn’t injured or hurt and he’s been well taken care of,’ Ted says firmly.
  ‘Yeah, I guess, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions Ted.’

At the top of the north wall, two teams of people left over from the bucket chain, and chosen by Dave, move ammunition and powder bags to each of the cannon.

Long hoses stretch along the top and down to the ground level and outside taps, found in each corner of the base of the wall. On further request, women bring piles of sheets, blankets and material up, to be left with the ammunition.
  Dave crouches and draws his knife to cut a square of bed sheet, then takes a few double handfuls of bolts, nails and screws to put them in the centre of the sheet. He wraps the sheet over, securing the metal fragments inside. He then takes the small bundle and shoves it into the black opening of the cannon mouth.
  ‘Too small,’ he mutters and goes back to unwrap the sheet and add another double handful of the metal pieces. He wraps it back up and goes back to the cannon mouth, placing the bundle inside.
  ‘Perfect, I need more of these made. The same size as this one, they must not be bigger than this, otherwise they will not fit.’ Dave says to a group of people watching him. 'You get them made and I’ll start showing this lot the cannon drill,’ he adds, turning to the two distinct teams nearby.
  ‘Right, one group will be on this cannon; the other will be on the other. Watch and listen carefully, as we do not have a lot of time before night falls and as soon as that area is clear,’ Dave indicates the flatlands, ‘…we will be having some practise shots to get range, distance and aim, got it?’
  The groups nod back, listening intently to the small, strange man.
  ‘These are the fuses,’ Dave holds up some lengths of fuse wire to show the groups. ‘They go into this hole at the back of the cannon. We do not have lighted material or naked flame anywhere near the fuse at any point other than when we are lighting it, you two are the flame holders.’ Dave indicates two men, one from each group. ‘You keep the flame lit and away from the cannon until the teams are ready for you to light the fuse. Now we take a powder bag, this is full of gunpowder, and we place it into the cannon, that is your job.’ Dave indicates another man from each group. ‘The powder bag is then rammed down to the bottom of the cannon, like this,’ Dave takes a ramrod and pushes it into the cannon, driving the bag down to the bottom and tapping it hard a few times.
  ‘It must be at the bottom, so it pushes against the fuse wire sticking in through the hole. Next we take some wadding, and again we push it down,’ Dave takes some papers from a pile near the cannon and rams it down with the ramrod. ‘Next we take the ammunition, in this case the wrapped metal and again we push it down the cannon. The metal is wrapped simply to keep it together. When the fuse is lit, it burns down and ignites the powder bag. The powder bags explode instantly with a lot of force. The energy of the exploding matter cannot escape from the back or sides so it is forced to move up the cannon, thereby driving our round, missile or projectile out of this end at great speed. The wrapping material will be burnt away and the metal ejected. As it leaves, it will start to spread, at the same time as becoming incredibly hot. Not only do the enemy suffer from the impact of the projectiles, they also suffer from the heat of the projectiles. Do you understand?’ He gets more nods from the people watching.
  ‘Now, before the cannon be used again, water is put in and swept through, to make sure there are no burning materials left, otherwise, as soon as you put the powder bags in, they will explode and kill everyone. Now, these cannon are made from iron. They are strong, but they are very old and we cannot tell if they have stress fractures. Iron cannon can sometimes just explode from the force of the repeated firing, if that happens you will all die, got it?’

The men look to each other with alarm.
  ‘We cannot fire at the moment because of the people out there, but we can practise and we will practise, any questions?’
  ‘Will you be with us?’ One man asks, straight away.
  ‘For the practise, yes, of course, I will be.’
  ‘No, I mean when we actually fire them for real.’
  ‘I don’t know.’
  ‘How likely are they to explode?’ Another asks, with genuine fear on his face.
  ‘I don’t know.’
  ‘Err, have you ever fired one of these before?’ The same man asks.
  ‘No, now any other questions, before we start? No? Good.’

For the next hour the two groups are drilled incessantly and without rest. Dave making each group going through the motions. Dave pushes them again and again, giving clear instructions and correcting, where necessary.
 

As the afternoon gives way to evening, Dave rests the groups and walks over to the Saxon positioned midway between the two cannon and takes the radio from the front of the vehicle.
  ‘
Saxon to Mr Howie or Chris.’
  ‘Chris to Saxon, go ahead.’
  ‘Saxon to Chris, we need to start live fire drills on the cannon, how long until the grounds are clear?’
  ‘Chris to Saxon, we are almost finished and will clear very soon, I will give you an update once we are clear.’
  ‘Saxon to Chris, Roger that, Saxon out.’
  ‘Chris to Howie.’
  ‘Howie here, go ahead Chris.’
  ‘Did you get the last? We are almost finished at the front.’
  ‘Yeah, I got that mate, I’ll come down and meet you at the gate.’
  ‘Chris to Howie, Roger and out.’

Howie steps through the gate, after finding a different guard happily on duty and wondering what mischief Blowers and Cookey would be causing elsewhere.

He crosses the gap between the two walls, marvelling at how the two high thick walls deaden the sound from both sides.
  ‘We’re just about done,’ Clarence calls out, leading his now large group of people back inside with Brian.

Some of them are armed with rifles, and there is a much larger group armed with a collection of hand weapons.
  ‘I think that Chris is bringing the others back in now, too,’ Howie replies.
  ‘Are they all done then?’ Clarence asks, moving back to Howie and watching the rest pass through the gate and back into the Fort.
  ‘I think so, how did you get on with the training?’ Howie asks.
  ‘The firearms were fine, some of them were a bit rusty, but there’s enough good ones amongst them to keep the rest up to standard, mind you, all they’ve got to do is point and shoot.’
  ‘What about the others, with the hand weapons?’
  ‘To be honest,’ Clarence lowers his voice. ‘That was a fucking nightmare, we’ll be lucky if they don’t all stab themselves before we even start. But what choice have they got,’ Clarence replies in his deep bass voice.
  ‘Not much we can do mate, just hope we whittle the numbers down, before they get here, I guess - here’s Chris now.’ Howie nods at the line of vehicles coming down the road towards them.
  ‘It’ll be dark soon, couple of hours to go,’ Clarence remarks, looking up at the sky.
  ‘I wonder how soon they’ll come,’ Howie says quietly, as the people still lead back into the Fort, nodding at him and Clarence as they pass.
  ‘Mr Howie?’ A voice calls out.

Howie turns to see a man at the head of a procession of archers.
  ‘You are Mr Howie, aren’t you?’ the man asks, as he gets closer.
  ‘Howie, yes…’
  ‘We’re the archers – we need to know range, and where we will be firing from. If we’re back here we’ve got no view…’
  ‘I was thinking we’d all be on the top of the inner wall to start with,’ Howie politely interrupts him.