Zombie Dawn Apocalypse (24 page)

The crowd’s murmurs of concern died down. They were already being replaced by hopeful sounds and words, they were starting to understand, and remember what hospitality they used to so gladly offer.

“Lastly, they may be American, but they’re still human!”

The crowd burst out with laughter, calming their nerves immediately.

“Nice ice breaker,” Hackett said to Bruce.

“Alright, so you know the deal, are you with us?!” shouted Hackett.

The crowd cheered in support.

“Alright! Let’s get to it!”

They cheered in excitement, the realisation that they had something new in their lives, new faces, new possibilities, and new responsibilities. An enthusiasm spread through the survivors, driving them to work hard at expanding their town. The town’s folk toiled away for nine days like this, whilst Bruce and his people guarded the wall with no real resistance, and the mothers of the town patrolled the coast, never an incident to record.

* * *

Bruce’s house, Resolution Island, 2 am

Bruce was suddenly woken by a loud crash as something slammed into his log cabin. He immediately sprung up and snatched his machete up from the table beside his bed. He could hear a howling gale outside and heavy rain beating down on the cabin. He walked to the door and pulled the latch across, but before he could push the door open it was ripped open, slamming against the outer wall. Bruce looked out, debris was smashing into buildings, much of it from the semi-completed homes they’d been working on the previous week. Bruce had never seen a storm like this, it was ravaging their town, parts of roofs had already been torn off and smashed.

“Christ, that’s really going to fuck things up.”

Hackett appeared from one of the buildings, fighting against the heavy wind and rain and trying to make it to Bruce. Finally he stumbled in and they fought to pull the door closed. Shaking the water off, Hackett pulled the hood back on his coat. He already looked concerned.

“What a fucker,” said Bruce.

“Yeah, it’s a hell of a time for it.”

“
What’ya
mean?”

“The fleet is only about two days away, who knows what a time of it they’re having.”

“Fuck me, it doesn’t get any better, any word from them?”

“None, but I should imagine they’re having a hard enough time of it as is, without worrying about us.”

“I take it this isn’t a social call then?”

“No, a storm like this could affect a lot of things, not only the damage we have already seen. Who knows what could get washed up on our shores, or other unforeseen circumstances.”

“Alright, you want me to arrange some patrol duties?”

“Yes, but only for the town, I don’t want anyone travelling beyond the buildings until the storm is over, it’s too risky. Get regular patrols going, hopefully by daylight this will have passed and we can assess the situation, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“
Alrighty
.”

“Ok, Bruce, I’ll see you at daybreak.”

Hackett left the cabin leaving the door open, and Bruce looking out at the relentless weather, the spray already hitting him as he stood barefoot in a t-shirt.

“What a fucking night,” he said.

* * *

Five hours later Bruce sat on the stage in the square as Hackett wandered up to once more ring the town bell.

“All ok?” asked Hackett.

“Fucking marvellous.”

“You’re alive aren’t you?”

“Just about,” Bruce sighed.

As Hackett was about to ring the bell a horse and rider stormed into the town at full gallop, it was Dylan, clearly carrying vital news.

“Bruce! Bruce!” shouted Dylan.

Hackett and Bruce’s relaxed mood immediately hardened, noticing the sound of fear in the man’s voice.

“What is it, mate?!”

“We got a problem at the wall!”

“How much of a problem?” asked Hackett.

“The causeway has closed up, the storm has choked it full of debris, earth, trees, it’s all collapsed in. They’re at the outer wall!”

“Jesus Christ,” cried Hackett.

“Sound the alarm!” Bruce screamed.

Hackett ran up to the bell, but passed it, onto the next instrument of town communication, an old air raid siren, something they had not ever had to use, and was for absolute emergencies only. The old cop began winding the handle, and the tinkling sound of the siren rang out across the town.

“How many are we talking about? And is the wall intact?!” shouted Bruce.

“The wall has taken a bit of a beating, but last I saw it was alright, but the fuckers were pouring in, in their dozens last I left, no idea how many now.”

Within two minutes of the siren going off the town’s people were gathering, all fully aware of what that alarm meant, a life or death situation.

“Please be calm and listen, we do not have time to waste!” shouted Hackett.

Bruce ran and jumped up onto the stage, and Hackett gladly gave way to Bruce, who was the nearest thing they had to an army commander.

“The causeway has closed! However, the wall is still up! We have all seen in the past that no barrier we can create can hold back the creatures forever, so we cannot afford to leave things as they are! We have to reclaim the causeway and dig out the river.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” shouted Keith.

“We need to assemble every capable fighter now, we need to push back the creatures beyond the old trench, then get others to clear it out!” shouted Bruce.

“That’s insane! It could take hours to clear that trench!”

“We don’t have a choice! If we don’t get that trench working again they will get through our walls, whether it takes them a day or a week, they always do!” Bruce answered him.

“What about digging a new trench between the outer and middle wall?”

“Keith, that’ll take even longer, and could likely compromise the structure of our walls, it’s as much work with even more risk!”

Hackett intervened. “That’s enough! We don’t have time to argue. Bruce is in charge, trust him, and please do as he says, we need to work together right now if we want any chance of survival!”

“Look, I’ve had all the time I need to give the options consideration, and now is not the time to talk, it’s the time to act! The fleet will be with us in a couple of days and that should provide us with some serious fighting potential, but right now, as always, we have to fend for ourselves. All capable fighters and builders, get your weapons, armour and horses, we leave from the square in five minutes!” Bruce ordered.

“Christian, get the shields for us, we’ll be needing them,” he added.

The crowd quickly dispersed as they went about their duties. Bruce walked back into his cabin and flipped open the lid of a large wooden box in the corner of the room, revealing all the fighting equipment that he had so wished never to have the need for again. He pulled out his quilted gambeson, mail shirt, padded leather leg armour and steel gauntlets.

Just minutes later he was back in the square wearing his worn old armour, a reproduction medieval flanged mace dangling from his side, and machete in its sheath. Hackett and a few others were loading shields onto a small cart. Around sixty fighters had assembled in the town square, along with a number of men ready to get to work on the trench. Bruce climbed up onto the podium.

“Alright, here’s the deal. We start on the outer barricade, wipe out everything we can as quickly as possible with the bows and crossbows, then push beyond the trench, allowing the guys to get working on it. From what Dylan tells me, only a forty-foot stretch of the trench has been filled in, so we’ll be guarding that narrow stretch. I want thirty men with shields at all times out front, the rest with ranged weapons to keep them at bay as long as possible, all understood?”

The crowd rang out in agreement as they strapped on final pieces of equipment and readied themselves.

“Right, me and Dylan will ride up ahead. Remember, you’re not fighting for yourselves, we are fighting for each other. If this goes badly it could be the last fight we ever have! Always remember what you’re fighting for, good luck to you all!”

Bruce leapt onto his horse and immediately kicked his heels in, launching forward at full gallop towards the wall with Dylan close behind. As they reached the edge of town, Amy galloped towards them to join the fight. On the sight of the woman, who Bruce had known since she was a teenager, he stopped quickly and turned to her.

“Don’t give me crap, Bruce, I’m going too!”

“I wasn’t going to tell you to turn back, I just want to know you’re ready.”

“I’m ready, I won’t wait here whilst the town is in danger. I need to do this.”

“Alright, then let’s go!”

They again launched forward towards the wall, it was a short journey on horseback and at speed, but it felt like a long experience, not knowing what to expect, praying that the walls were still up, and that the zombies were still in small numbers. Bruce arrived at the inner wall and could already hear the murmuring sounds of the creatures, and the odd twang of a bow string releasing. They quickly rode to the outer gates, noticing they were already shaking under the pressure of the horde.

“Jesus Christ, it’s
gonna
be a long day,” said Bruce.

The three fighters jumped off their horses and climbed up the ladder to the outer wall. Bruce looked down across the wall to see the five guards taking shots at the creatures with crossbows. He looked down over the battlements to see over a hundred creatures already clawing at the wooden walls.

“We’ve got a good ten minutes to fifteen minutes till the rest of the lads arrive, let’s give these fuckers hell!”

He laid down the stirrup of his crossbow to the floor and pulled back the string, loading his first bolt. Lowering his aim down, he quickly acquired his first target and shot the bolt through its cranium.

“Nice shot, boss!” shouted Dylan.

“Yeah, just another hundred of those and we’ll be sorted!”

More zombies were appearing through the tree line the other side of the causeway, a seemingly never-ending stream, though fortunately in small and staggered numbers so far. The eight fighters kept up their shooting into the horde below, amassing an ever-growing pile of stinking corpses. By the time a hundred bloody bodies lay at their walls the rest of the Island’s fighters were in sight. Bruce turned to see his re-enforcements march through the gate of the middle wall.

“Get your weapons ready, we open the gates in two, I’m going over that trench, who’s with me?” called Bruce.

The men below cheered as they thrust their brutal weapons in the air, building the aggression and determination to drive he creatures back and destroy all before them. Bruce looked over to Dylan.

“You stay here with the other six, we need a presence on this wall at all times, keep the firing up until we open the gates, and keep a close eye on us while we’re out there, we may need to fall back at anytime.”

He climbed down the steps, ready to lead his army onto the causeway, into close combat. Christian was handing out the large shields to half of the men, large rectangular wooden shields, the perfect barrier when used in formation. Every one of the fighters was armoured up and ready for combat.

“Christian, Connor, get ready on the gates!” shouted Bruce.

The shots continued to fly above them as the guards on the palisade kept up the fight. Bruce looked at Christian and Connor standing at the gates.

“You ready?”

“Sure, boss,” answered Connor.

Bruce turned around to behold the biggest force he had ever commanded in any combat, confident in their abilities, but rather less confident in their mission.

“This is it, no fear, I want absolute brutality from all of you, we drive forwards until we get beyond that trench, and then we hold!”

Bruce looked around at his two loyal friends waiting beside the gate, waiting intently for his command, all of their pulses pounding with anticipation, excitement and dread all combined.