The Undead. The First Seven Days (54 page)

  The end coughs and I watch as the head explodes and the bullet rips through, taking the back of the skull off and going into the chest of another zombie behind the fat one. They both fall down and the recruits cheer and applaud, as I get back to my feet.
  ‘You got two, well done, Sir,’ McKinney says and the rest join in.

  I grin back at them and Tucker hands me my rifle.
  ‘I’ll go up on the GPMG while you take your turns,’ I say to them and climb in through the back and up through the hole. I check all around to make sure there aren’t any sneaky ninja zombies trying to creep up on us.
  Dave settles each recruit and goes through the same instructions as he did for me. Blowers first, then Cookey, Tucker struggles, due to his larger size, and just pulls the trigger quickly and gets up. Reese goes next and lies down next to the rifle. He calmly settles himself down and stays still for long seconds, making very minor adjustments. He hardly seems to move and, even from this close distance, I cannot see him breathing. He takes the shot, aiming for one of the undead at the rear of the group, deliberately choosing a more difficult target. The round strikes centre forehead and takes the back of the head off in an explosion of blood and brains. The lads all cheer for Reese and he responds by going bright red.
  ‘Try another one,’ Dave says, as Reese starts getting up. He nods and settles back down.
  ‘That one at the back - the small woman in the pink thing,’ Dave says.

  I look over and see a small-built zombie woman at the rear of the group. She is shuffling the same as the rest, but her head is wobbling quickly and erratically.

  Reese settles and pauses for long seconds, then squeezes the trigger. The woman drops immediately with her head blown apart.
  ‘Fucking good shot mate,’ Cookey says and bends down to pat Reese on the back.
  ‘That was very good mate, well done,’ Blowers says.
  Reese blushes even more as Dave watches him closely.
  ‘Let him do another one,’ McKinney calls out and the others all shout in agreement.
  ‘Okay, I want you to take the one on the far right, with the white shorts and then the naked one on the far left,’ Dave says. ‘But I want them both shot within ten seconds of each other.’

  Reese nods and identifies both targets through the scope, sweeping from right to left then back again. He aims for the zombie male on the right with the white shorts and takes the shot. The zombie drops, as before, and Reese racks the bolt and sweeps over to the left and pauses just for a couple of seconds then takes the second shot. This one strikes in the mouth and the zombie gets thrown backwards, as the bullet strikes through the back of the skull.
  ‘Sorry, I missed the second one,’ Reese says apologetically, as he stands up.
  ‘You rushed and sliding the bolt, threw you off a little,’ Dave says to him.

  I’m amazed at the criticism, two headshots like that were amazing - but Reese nods at Dave.
  ‘Yeah, it felt rushed, I adjusted my position as I reached for the bolt and I didn’t need to,’ Reese explains.
  Dave allows the rest of the recruits a go, nearly all of them miss head shots and they all seem flat after Reese’s amazing efforts.
  ‘Jamie, you finish them off,’ Dave says to Reese as the rest of them stand back.

  Reese nods quietly and goes to drop down.
  ‘Go on top of the Saxon,’ Dave tells him and Reese obliges in silence as he clambers up and the rifle is passed to him. I drop down from the GMPG hole and climb out to join the others.
  ‘I will number them for you, starting from the front and always moving from right to left as they go back, got it?’ Dave calls up.
  ‘Got it,’ Reese affirms, quietly.
  ‘Front centre, large built male is one; two is the female with blonde hair; three is the old man in the striped pyjamas…’ Dave continues to count them out, showing Reese his method of selecting multiple targets.
  ‘Ready?’ Dave calls.
  ‘Yes,’ Reese replies softly.
  Dave waits a few seconds, then calls out ONE. Reese takes the shot and the large built zombie drops. Dave calls out TWO, and the blonde undead gets blown away. Dave calls out FIVE, and Reese instantly adjusts to identify the target and drops it.

  Dave keeps going, calling out random numbers.

  Reese only gets one wrong, but all of them are headshots.

  There is utter silence, apart from the numbers being called out and the coughing noise from the rifle.

  The last one drops to an outburst of loud cheering and clapping from all of us, even Dave claps and smiles at Reese as he gets down.
  ‘Very good,’ Dave says to him simply and I see Reese swell with pride from the praise.
  ‘So, we have a sniper in the team,’ I say to Reese and shake his hand.

  He looks down, clearly uncomfortable.
  ‘Right, let’s get loaded and gone from here, time is ticking and we need fuel,’ I call out and the lads all load up.
  I get into the driver’s seat and look across as Blowers gets into the passenger seat.
  ‘Dave is showing Jamie how to strip and clean the rifle, so you’ve got me for a bit, Mr Howie,’
  ‘Okay mate, no worries.’ I start the engine and we pull away, driving straight over the bodies and crushing them into the road.

The country roads give way to more urban areas and, despite the fuel getting lower, I keep the speed up as we drive through the towns. The signs of devastation and severe civil uproar are everywhere, just like in Portsmouth. Burnt out cars and vehicles, shop fronts smashed in and bodies everywhere. Some of the houses have been burnt out too and there more signs of fire-damaged buildings the deeper we go.

Dave has swapped with Blowers now and is sitting up front with me again. Curtis Graves is on the GPMG and the rest of them stay quiet. The villages were quaint, but we didn’t really see signs of just how severe the outbreak is. But here is different, it’s gritty and it reminds me that a whole lot of people live in this country and every single one of them has been deeply affected by this event. The tragedy is everywhere, in the roads and streets, in the smashed in buildings with their front doors hanging open. Bloodstains and smears are all over the road and on road signs and metal railings. The bodies that we see are festering and already rapidly decaying in the hot, summer sun.
  ‘We’ll take the motorway into London,’ I say to Dave.
  ‘Okay, Mr Howie.’
  The road leads us through the centre of the town, and we see the high street stores have been looted; debris and everyday items litter the ground. There are very few undead though, just a couple here and there, shuffling along and slowly turning to watch us as we drive past.
  A man runs out in front of the road ahead of us, waving his arms and shouting loudly. I didn’t see where he came from, must have been from one of the shops or buildings.
  I slow the vehicle down and he stays in the middle of the road, trying to stop us with his physical presence. I slow to a full stop with him standing just a few feet in front of us. He walks round to my side and looks up, as I open the window slightly.
  ‘Thank god, I knew the Army would come,’ The man shouts, he is middle-aged and dressed in suit trousers and an office style shirt; now filthy with grime.
  ‘We’re not the Army mate, we’re just using this vehicle,’ I say to him.
  ‘Well… you’ve got a man on the top with a machine gun,’ he shouts back.
  ‘Er… well yes, but we’re just trying to get somewhere.’
  ‘You have to help, I got trapped trying to get supplies and I can’t get back to my family. I tried to go back but they’re surrounded by those things.’ The man shouts in desperation and indicates off to a side street, tears are streaming down his face and he looks petrified.

  I glance over to Dave who shrugs his shoulders.

  ‘How far away are they?’ I ask him. I don’t want to keep stopping, but he’s clearly desperate.
  ‘Down there, not far, honestly, just down there,’ he moves quickly from foot to foot, pointing back to the side street off to the left.
  ‘Okay, hop on the ledge and direct us.’

  The man climbs up, holding onto the wing mirror and balancing on the driver’s step. I drive forward and the man keeps waving to the side street and shouting ‘…down there, down there.’
I turn in and drive down the road for a few hundred metres.
  ‘Down this road,’ the man waves to a residential street and I see a handful of undead immediately outside a terraced house.
  ‘Bloody hell, mate - there’s only a few of ‘em - I thought you said there were loads.’
  ‘There is loads, look at them, I’ll never get through them,’
  ‘Are you being serious?’ I look at man incredulously.
  ‘What? How am I supposed to get through them,’ he cries.
  ‘What about weapons? You must have armed yourself.’
  ‘Well, I’ve never really believed in violence and I don’t like weapons,’ he says defensively.
  ‘Oh, but it’s all right for us to use our weapons?’ I shout at him.
  ‘But you’re the Army...’
  ‘We are not the bloody Army,’ I cut across him. ‘You are not going to survive very long without weapons and being willing to bloody use them.’
  ‘But…’ He tries to stammer.
  ‘No
but’s
mate - you said you have a family in there - kids and a wife?’ He nods. ‘So
man up
and defend your family.’
  I push the door open and he falls off the ledge. I take my axe and walk towards the five zombies that are shuffling around his front door. The recruits are bursting out of the Saxon and running towards us with their knives, and Dave is already at my side, as I walk up to the closest one and behead him as he turns round.

  I follow through with the swing and take another one down. Dave has already dropped the other three by the time the recruits get close, and they all stop, looking disappointed, and slowly turn and walk back towards the vehicle. The man is staring open-mouthed at Dave and I, and then at the bloodied bodies on the ground.
  ‘What’s up mate, was that too violent for you?’ I say, as I walk past him back to the Saxon and we drive back up the side streets onto the main road.

We enter the featureless and empty motorway and keep driving towards London. We have no satellite navigation; just a road atlas. Getting into London will be easy enough, apart from the millions of zombies, but finding where my sister lives will be extremely hard.

  At least we don’t have to worry about one way roads, no-entry signs or traffic build ups now, and we won’t have to pay the London congestion charge! Mind you, I imagine there will still be someone sat in their offices, clocking the vehicles and sending out letters to their home addresses. A city the size of London should have lots of survivors holed up, so maybe they have already started cutting the numbers of zombies down.

  That radio message said that London was infected and to stay away, but that was a few days ago now. I imagine driving through an empty city centre, with piles of zombie bodies stacked up neatly, ready to be burnt.

 
It won’t be like that, but a man is allowed to dream
.
  ‘There’s some services on this road,’ Curtis Graves calls out.
  ‘Thanks mate, how do you know that? I guess you’ve been here before then?’
  ‘We used to go to 4x4 vehicle shows and take our old
Land Rover
.
Dad always worked out each service station, so we could stop, if it broke down,’ Graves says.
  ‘And did it break down?’
  ‘Rarely, they tend to go on forever, especially the old ones - you just need a few tools and a working knowledge and they are easy to fix.’
  ‘How far up this road mate?’ I say, looking down at the fuel gauge that is now only a little bit above the red line.
  ‘Only a few miles, not far.’
  ‘Do any of you know how to get fuel out when there is no power?’ I shout.
  ‘I know they either have to press a button inside the kiosk to allow the fuel out, or it’s done on an automated system when the cameras have had time to record the registration number,’ Nick Hewitt shouts down to me.
  ‘What about now - with no power in the service station?’
  ‘I don’t know, but some of the main services have to have backup generators, in case of power outages, so they can still get fuel to the emergency services and stuff,’ Hewitt shouts.
  ‘Curtis, is this service station a large one?’ I ask him.
  ‘Yes, Sir - it’s the only one for quite a while.’
  ‘Okay, we’ll aim for that then. We have to get fuel and Dave has experience of generators,’ I cast him a glance as I remember him electrifying the metal gates outside the police station. ‘Dave and Curtis, can you two go for the generator? Nick, I want you to try and find out how to activate the pumps, if we manage to get the power back on. Darren you take the GPMG and Jamie go up-top with the sniper rifle. The rest of us will spread out and keep watch, got it?’

 
I get a chorus of YES from behind me. I glance over and see Dave staring at me, and, although his face is blank, I can tell he is thinking of something.
  ‘What?’ I ask him.
  ‘Nothing, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Was that a bad plan? Change it if you want to mate – sorry, I should have checked with you first.’
  ‘It’s a good plan,’ he looks back to the front. ‘It is a very good plan.’