The Undead. The First Seven Days (83 page)

Howie slashes out, swinging the axe in a vicious uppercut and driving the blade straight through the thrusting chin of an undead male; bursting his face apart in a spray of blood, bone and teeth.

They reach the Saxon and Howie looks out to see the carpet of slaughtered undead.
  ‘They’re pulling back,’ Chris shouts over, as the group take position round the Saxon.
  ‘I’m not surprised, you’ve bloody killed ‘em all,’ Howie shouts back, to see Chris give a big grin; his white teeth gleaming in stark contrast to his dark beard.
  ‘The Saxon can’t fit us all in, we need more vehicles,’ Howie shouts, his voice is drowned out by the weapons firing all around him. He walks round to stand near Chris and repeats his concern.
  ‘There’s a couple of things we might be able to use at the end of the barricade; we left the keys in the glove boxes of the ones we might need,’ Chris replies.
  ‘But they’re all piled up, they’ll be fucked,’ Howie says.
  ‘No, there’s some right at the beginning, I know which ones, we’ll have to work out way down there,’       Chris says: ‘There’s not so many of them now,’ he adds, looking up the road.

Howie looks up to see small groups still advancing but nothing like the volume that were coming just a few minutes ago.
  ‘CEASE FIRE,’ Chris calls out, the ones closest to him hear and respond immediately, but the GPMG keeps going and the ones further down the line do not hear.
  ‘CEASE FIRE,’ Dave bellows, the firing stops immediately as they all turn to look at him.
  ‘KEEP THE GPMG GOING AND MOVE ROUND THE SAXON TO MOVE DOWN THE ROAD,’ Chris orders as they start re-grouping.
  ‘Curtis, are you okay to keep driving, mate?’ Howie shouts over.
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie,’ Curtis responds and clambers into the back and through to the driver’s seat.
  They start grouping round the Saxon, as Nick aims the fire into the last few groups of zombies struggling over the fallen and mashed up bodies on the road ahead of them.

The GPMG falls silent after a short time, as Nick calls out the all clear.

‘MOVE OUT, STAY CLOSE TO THE VEHICLE,’ Howie shouts and the Saxon starts moving with the armed men and women standing shoulder to shoulder round the vehicle.

They inch down, sacrificing speed for the ability to stay to together as one unit.
  ‘CONTACT,’ someone shouts from driver’s side of the Saxon and weapons fire as the zombies are cut down.
  ‘TO THE REAR,’ Jamie shouts and more weapons open up as zombies continue to push out from the darkened buildings and run into the road towards the vehicle.
  ‘KEEP GOING, YOU’RE DOING WELL,’ Chris shouts out and slowly they move step by step down the road.

The constant contacts keep them busy as they fire into zombies pushing in from the sides, the rear and then, as they near the section where the truck was used to block the road, they start coming from the front.
  ‘NICK, FOCUS ON THE FRONT, WE NEED TO KEEP OUR ROUTE CLEAR’ Howie shouts out, Nick spins round to face the road ahead, his face grim from the constant use of the machine gun.

The recruits and guards shout out directions as they spot zombies flitting through the shadows.

The contacts suddenly cease and a silence descends, only broken by the low rumble of the heavy diesel engine of the Armoured Personnel Carrier.
  ‘Why have they stopped?’ Nick shouts out, spinning round to get a full view. ‘I can’t see them anywhere,’ he adds.
  ‘They’re still there,’ Jamie calls out. ‘They’re keeping pace with us in the shadows.’
  ‘Dave can you see them,’ Howie asks.
  ‘Yes,’ Dave replies.
  A small child walks slowly out from the shadows towards the passenger side of the Saxon; a long white nightgown and flowing blond hair.

She stops just ahead of the vehicle and holds her arms out, offering an embrace, with no sign of injury.
  ‘Come here, darling,’ one of the male guards shouts out and rushes forward, the girl looks normal and terrified as she holds her arms out and glances round behind her.
  ‘DON’T,’ Howie yells, as the guard scoops the girl up and starts running back with her, but he screams as the girl sinks her teeth into his neck, savagely tearing the soft flesh apart with a violent gnashing.

Her face is instantly soaked as the artery is opened and the hot red liquid spurts out. Two more guards rush forward; one of them grabs the girl and starts pulling her away. She wraps her arms round a head, clinging on, as she devours the flesh with frenzied biting. A small horde of zombies then rush out from the shadows, taking advantage of the distance the guards have created between themselves and the Saxon.

They are on the guards instantly, pulling them to the floor and sinking teeth into the flesh. Screams erupts, as more guards rush forward to beat them away.
  ‘STOP,’ Chris shouts, as they are set upon by more zombies surging out of the darkness.
  ‘CUT THEM DOWN,’ Dave booms out and opens up with his assault rifle, firing indiscriminately into the melee of fighting bodies.

More guards scream out as they see their comrades being cut down by Dave. More zombies rush in, flying into the frenzied attack; their screams rip the air apart.
  One of the guards lunges at Dave, desperately trying to stop him shooting down his mates. Blowers steps in and pushes him away. The guard staggers, but lashes out with his fist, knocking Blowers back. Cookey strides forward and slams the stock of his rifle into the guards face, dropping him instantly. Clarence grabs the back of his collar and drags him round to the back of the vehicle and launches the unconscious form into the rear.
  ‘NICK…’ Howie shouts out.

Nick grimaces and slowly shakes his head as he aims down to the struggling mass of bodies. Some of the attacked guards are clearly still alive.
  ‘Fuck it,’ Nick mutters and squeezes the trigger. The GPMG roars as it fires solid rounds into the mass of bodies, cutting them down instantly.

Sobs sound out from the guards as the zombies and their friends are killed by the firing.
  ‘KEEP IT TOGETHER,’ Howie shouts. ‘STAY WITH THE VEHICLE.’

Shots sound out from the driver’s side as the zombies show more intelligence by attacking that side with force, while the resistors are focussed on the passenger side.
  Nick spins round to see a mass of undead coming from the shadows at full pelt.

He opens fire, trying to shout a warning at the same time.

The zombies impact within seconds and more guards are taken down as their assault weapons become useless in the close quarters combat. The brawling bodies are right at the side of the vehicle and Nick pushes the machine gun over, but can’t get the angle to fire down. Dave runs round the back of the vehicle, throwing his assault rifle into the rear, as he passes the open door and draws his knives from the back of his waistband.

Within short steps he reaches the scrabbling line.

The first guard is pinned against the side of the vehicle with zombies savaging her face, she screams and thrashes, but the body weight is too great.

Dave steps behind them and draws a knife across each of their throats. Hot, infected, blood bursts out into the female guard’s face. Dave slips one of the knives between the gap of the zombie’s bodies and pushes the sharp tip into her chest, pushing down until the blade cuts through her heart. Killing her instantly, Dave twists the handle with a violent motion and pulls the blade out, before spinning round to drive the two blades into the neck of a lunging undead female then steps back, as the zombie falls beside him.
  He works along the side of the still moving Saxon, cutting down zombies and injured guards alike. At the last one, he spins through the air, slicing the throats open of the remaining zombies as his blade comes to rest millimetres away from the throat of the last guard.

They keep walking sideways, keeping pace with the vehicle, as the guard tries to push himself backwards into the solid metal side of the Saxon.
  ‘ARE YOU BITTEN?’ Dave roars into his face, terrifying him even more.
  ‘No, no they didn’t get me,’ he stammers back.
  ‘I AM WATCHING YOU,’ Dave says and promptly pulls away, ‘THIS SIDE IS UNGUARDED,’ he bellows out.

Howie comes round the side from the front and looks back at the fallen bodies of the guards and zombies, as they slowly advance down the narrow lane of the stacked vehicles.
  ‘Fuck me…’ he mutters, taking in the now unguarded side of the vehicle, apart from Dave and one shaking guard who keeps glancing at Dave with a terrified expression.
  ‘Are they all gone?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie,’ Dave answers, as he stalks next to the vehicle; his knives upturned against his forearms.
  ‘LOAD UP NOW,’ Howie shouts out, as Chris appears from the rear of the vehicle.
  ‘What the fuck…’ Chris’s mouth drops as he looks back at the fallen bodies.
  ‘We need to load up and go,’ Howie shouts down, aware they will now fit in the vehicle as so many of the guards have been taken down.

Chris nods back in silent agreement.

They load up one by one, covering each other as they work back down the side of the vehicle and into the rear doors of the moving Saxon. Howie is the last to load and pulls the doors closed.
  ‘ALL IN, he shouts. ‘Catch up with the convoy, Curtis! Someone take over from Nick, give him a break,’ he adds, sinking down onto one of the side benches in exhaustion.

The Saxon increases in speed, as Curtis works to catch up with the fleet; the vastly reduced numbers are exhausted from the sustained battle. The remaining few guards weep and sob at the loss of their fallen friends.
  Howie looks up to Blowers and Cookey, both sitting forward with their heads down. Nick is slumped, leaning back with his eyes closed.

Jamie and Dave are both sitting straight, eyes open and staring ahead, out of the windscreen. Howie ticks them off in his mind as he goes; the mother hen counting the brood: Curtis driving, Tucker with the supply vehicle and Sarah in the back of the last vehicle. He looks over at Clarence, the big man taking the space of two people with his enormous frame and leaning back with his eyes closed. Howie remembers him saving Sarah and offers a silent prayer of thanks that he was in the position to react so quickly. Other than Dave, none of them would have been able to take so many down with their bare hands and walk away, unscathed.
  Finally, he looks to Big Chris. They lock eyes; two leaders who have suffered losses and taken the responsibility of so many lives and have fought to keep those people safe. One a former soldier and criminal, the other a supermarket manager. Something passes between them - a meeting of minds, an unspoken contract that they will do anything to ensure the survival of the people that have trusted them with their lives.

Sarah stands, with her head resting against the inside of the door. The last image as the doors were slammed was of Clarence staring hard at her and a scene of utter carnage behind him; Howie sprinting towards her, carrying two axes.
  She realises that she is holding something in her hand. The inside of the van is pitch black and she feels round the object, it feels like a knife handle but there is no blade. Her fingertips brush against a small button on the side. She looks back up to the door as she realises what he gave to her. She quickly tucks the item into her back pocket, as she turns round.
  The motion of the vehicle and gentle sway as it turns, increases her sense of fear; any notion of space and dimension disappear and she stretches her arms to press her hands against the insides of the vehicle.

She feels the heat from the bodies pressed tightly into the back of the van and sweat starts to forms on her face. Then she feels something small pressing into her and reaches down with a hand to feel a small head with long hair.
  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Sarah says softly, as the small body flinches away from her hand.

A tiny hand reaches up to touch hers, fingertips brushing gently, then gripping tightly.
  ‘Mummy?’ A small voice says.
  ‘No, I’m Sarah, where is your Mummy?’ She asks.
  ‘I don’t know,’ the child whimpers.
  ‘Hey everyone, there’s a small child here, missing her Mummy,’ Sarah calls out to the darkness.
  ‘Who is it?’ A female voice answers from somewhere near the front.
  ‘What’s your name, sweetie,’ Sarah asks the small child.
  ‘Patricia,’ the small voice replies.
  ‘Her name’s Patricia,’ Sarah calls out.
  ‘What’s her mum’s name?’ The same female voice answers.
  ‘What’s your mum’s name, sweetie?’ Sarah asks.
  ‘Jane.’
  ‘Her mother’s called Jane,’ Sarah says.
  ‘I don’t know her, does anyone else?’ The female voice calls out, to no reply.
  ‘What about your Daddy, what’s his name?’ Sarah asks Patricia.
  ‘I don’t know,’ Patricia whimpers, her voice small and weak.
  ‘Come here, Angel,’ Sarah says, as she drops down low and draws the small girl into her body, the child throws her arms round Sarah’s shoulders, squeezing tightly.
  ‘I wanna go home,’ Patricia says, quietly.
  ‘I know sweetie, but we’ll be okay, it won’t be dark for long,’ Sarah replies, rubbing the girls back.
  ‘Is there a light in here?’ The female voice from the front calls out.

Sarah listens to the rustle of hands feeling alongside the sides and roof of the van, scrabbling about in the pitch dark.