The Reanimated Dead (Book 2): The Answer

by Wakefield, Trevor

  I got on the radio and asked to speak to Sarah. Kev came back a few minutes later with her. I told her that I would be a few days longer than expected as Sue didn’t want to go on her own to the facility so we would go with her until she was settled or able to come back with us. She was upset but promised me she would behave and told me to be safe. She handed me back to Kev and I filled him in too, he wished us luck with the journey and that was it. It was now only ten minutes to pick up time, so we packed up the school comms, one last check of the Americans comms but it was still as quiet as it was when we found it. Camouflage thought it was only short distance comms, used when they had a bigger set as a HQ like the helicopter. I took it with me and left the encrypted set in the back of the X5.

  Sue locked the X5 and hid the keys in the ramp panel with what food and water we had left. We would lock the X5 in here and hide the garage keys as we did earlier, always good to have a fall-back location, which is what this was originally for Sarah and myself.

  ‘Sh!! What’s that noise?’ Said Sue. We all shut up and listened.

  ‘Six-cylinder Cummins Turbo Diesel and large military patterned tyres.’ Camouflage beamed. ‘They’re here!’ We slung our vests on, grabbed our M4s and stepped out the doors. Our undead friends had long since vacated the area so no need to worry about them. Four vehicles lined up and turned around on the forecourt ready to move back out as I stashed the keys back in their hiding place on the sign pole.

  What had made the noise Sue heard and gave Camouflage a hard on was ready to move out as head of the convoy. A MWMIK Jackal with three guys in. GPMG General purpose machine gun on the front and a rotating weapons mount with both a .50 Cal machine gun and 40mm grenade launcher. This would have no problems ploughing through swathes of the dead, though the driver and gunners may get a bit of splatter, maybe that was what that shite on the front of some of the vehicles already was and why they were all wearing ponchos. The next two vehicles were WMIK Landover’s, again three up with GPMGs front and top and in the middle was a 110 Land Rover with just one guy driving. The door opened and out stepped Pun the Para Pathfinder Sergeant.

  ‘Good morning Gentlemen, nice to meet you again.’ He nodded at Sue. ‘And lady. Your ride is here.’ He gestured to the 110 Land Rover and we climbed in. Camouflage was in the front with sue and I in the rear. Pun didn’t ask any questions or fish for information, once we were all strapped in he started the engine, the jackal and one WMIK took the lead with us next then the last WMIK in the line.

  ‘Any idea on how long before we get there?’ Camouflage asked Pun.

  ‘Normally two and a half hours but we are looking at three and a half, possibly four. We had a few jets fly over our route and they have provided us with a fairly safe route there. There will be places where we will be on and off the motorways to avoid blockages or unsafe areas though, but we should be prepared.’

  ‘Much trouble getting here?’ Camouflage asked again.

  Pun shrugged. ‘Nothing we couldn’t handle; we tried our best to avoid any confrontation to stay on time and not get bogged down in zombie control.’

  We turned left out of the village and onto the A38 northbound. The odd straggler zombie loitered by the road side but must have been remembering their green cross code today as they stayed on the pavement. We soon passed the lorry compound that had freaked me out before, the guys turned their weapons towards the compound as we passed. It still had bodies on the floor of the pull in at their gates and the bloke on the roof of the lorry with his rifle, but he soon scrabbled for cover out of view when he saw all the weaponry driving past the gates. That made me smile and think, ‘yeah, fuck you! We see your one high powered rifle and we raise you five GMPGs, one .50Cal and one 40MM grenade launcher (plus whatever else/personal weapons these guys had stuffed away).’

  Further down at a layby on the left I saw a ’88 Ford Capri with jacked up rear suspension, huge rear tyres, sloppily hand painted in what looked like black chalk board paint, rear hatch missing with two beer kegs and jerry cans mounted in its space and a big, ugly air cleaner sticking out of the bonnet. It was missing the main bit of appeal, such as a big ass V8 and a Weiland clutch driven super charger out of the bonnet, but you could tell straight away it was somebodies attempt at Mad Max’s Pursuit Special V8 Interceptor but based on Cologne’s finest automobile instead of an Australian Ford Falcon XB GT Coupe. I hoped it at least had the 3.0 Essex V6 for at least a bit of grunt and not the lame 1.6 pinto laser engine under the bonnet.

  Somebody was enjoying the end of days far too much it seemed. The drivers’ door was open, showing the interior was stripped out (the original in the film was stripped out to save unnecessary weight for extra speed and save fuel) but no one was to be seen. Were the occupants just over the fence attending the call of nature or had it been abandoned? Or had they seen us coming and decided to hide? Who knew? It was a pity I didn’t have my Mad Max shot gun pistols on me for whoever it was to complete their look, maybe I could have traded them for some cans of Dinki-Di meat and vegies dog food. Mel Gibson seemed to like it so must have been quite nice, but we just rolled on with the hum of huge tyres on tarmac and throb of Diesel engines to entertain us.

  We soon hit the M5 off the A38 where I first met Sue, she turned and just gave me a knowing look, but we took the off ramp from the south bound side and headed north. Pun could see one of us was going to ask so he explained. ‘From here to Tewkesbury the North bound side is full of snarl ups. The south bound side is pretty free until we hit Stresham services and the M50 turn off where we will change back to the north side.’

  ‘And you had to use planes to find this out?’ I asked. ‘I mean, are there no satellites working?’ I clarified.

  ‘The satellites are owned and run by different companies or nations. Without the ability to contact them, and they themselves not have the ability or personnel to re task them and then get the information back to us it’s best to rely on the old methods of air reconnaissance.’

  ‘And the Americans?’ I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  Pun chuckled. ‘Believe it or not, despite them having more spy and reconnaissance satellites than anyone else, they too have the same issues I believe, in that most their facilities were either over run or abandoned. Not only that but getting the information from the US and back into the UK is very problematic at the present and would take far too long for it to be a help to them.’

  I smiled knowing that as far as intelligence gathering went we and the Americans were now probably on the same footing since the second world war.

  Lots of weaving, the odd burst of well-aimed GPMG, the odd thump and bump was how the journey was going until we reached Stresham Services and M50 junction. Although free of vehicular obstructions the whole motorway was flooded with zombies. It would be no exaggeration to say that they were in the high hundreds. A bit of radio chatter between Pun and the Jackal and then hell on earth was released. The chatter of the GPMGs on all the vehicles scything away at the crowds was deafening. Swathes of them hit the floor as they advanced towards us absorbing the wall of 5.62mm lead we were sending out. A few well-placed 40mm grenades into the services car park and the odd car on the motorway created several huge rolling explosions, taking some out and distracting others. After a few moments the firing stopped and we headed off again, bucking and rolling as we traversed the fallen bodies, not all of which were completely dead, most were shredded corpses from the rapid rate of fire. Some had chunks missing, some limbs and some had just fallen over the others. I smiled as it bought back memories of the 90 in the lane of the dead when I rescued Sarah. Sue was looking very ashen faced as she could hear the heads popping under wheel and the motion of the Land Rover as it climbed bodies then dipped sharply as rib cages collapsed. I was going to call it Zee sickness… though only after she was not feeling sick, I’m considerate like that. The chaps were still firing but only at immediate threats and to clear a route, but it was much more targeted. As Pun had said earlier,
they were here for taxi duty and not Zombie crowd control.

  Once clear of the Zombie tsunami you could see the scale of it, though at least a third was now gone it was still an imposing crowd that would make even the most well defended civilian outpost shit themselves. With the weapons we had here the outcome would be better but still not certain, these guys knew how to use and maintain their weapons, they also had the discipline and training to make the most of them. As Camouflage said earlier, most people would just spray and pray and that would be their downfall.

  We hit the M5/M42 interchange without any more issues and were making good time until we hit the second bridge over it. Beneath it was two lorries parked purposely to block the road and had been unseen from the reconnaissance above. We slowed down and the guys from the first open topped Land Rover got out to see the situation. They came back and reported to Pun. They had been parked there on purpose, perhaps when a gang had control over the area, but the batteries were flat and they lorries were going nowhere. Everything else human wise had been abandoned long ago. We would have to go back several miles to get onto the other side of the carriage way or we could tow one of the lorries out of the way enough to get through. After a quick Chinese parliament they decided to go with the towing option.

  We all got out and created a secure perimeter while the jackal crew got to work hitching up to the most available lorry. The lorries had empty box trailers and even the Land Rover could pull them out of the way in low range, but the Jackal was made for this kind of thing. They had just got it rigged up when we saw the first zombie approaching. One of the Pathfinders took it out from a range further than I could dream of, then his friends turned up. They spilled down the embankment and over the bridge seemingly from out of nowhere. Hitting the deck after a body pulverising thirty-foot fall and then getting up or crawling towards us with shattered bodies to attack us. The lorry moved with little effort but by the time they had it in a position that we could get through unhindered we had around a hundred and twenty zombies upon us. We had a problem. The Jackal now needed unhitching from the lorry but on the ground were too many zombies for us to fight off for one guy to get through, unhitch and get back into cover without being shot by a misplaced shot or grabbed by a hungry zombie.

  Sue spoke to Pun. ‘Tell your men to stop firing unless they are in imminent danger of being bitten and get to cover, I don’t want to be shot by mistake!’ I knew what she was going to do but before I could stop her or for Pun ask what her plan was, she was already out of the 110 and calmly walking towards the hoard. Pun immediately contacted his men and told them to stop firing. Sue walked up to the front of the lorry that had been moved and saw the rope and hook through the recovery point. She grabbed the two nearest zombies by the shoulders and turned them away from the direction they had intended going and let them go. They both walked back in the direction they had come, with no hesitation. It was like they were turned by an invisible force and were powerless to resist it. She asked for slack on the winch rope which they guy on the Jackal duly gave her. The hook and rope were removed and started to be winched back which she slowly followed back to the Jackal helping it to spool back on the winch. Tens of zombies walked past her without any interest what so ever. Now the Jackal was free she walked back to the 110, opened her door and got back in. ‘My god this lot really stink.’ She commented and that was it apart from the little wry smile and wink she briefly gave me.

  The rest of us in the 110 were speechless and you could see the guys outside talking amongst themselves about it, clearly amazed by what she had just done. Once the Jackal had lined itself up to continue the journey we were off again through the now clear bridge. The sound of the GPMGs letting rip again was music compared to the miserable moaning and droning as they cleared the road towards and through under the bridge. We got through and left another load of empty brass and bundles of rotting flesh in our wake. I was worried about ammunition and how far away we were, so I thought I’d ask Pun.

  ‘Have we got much further to go?’

  Sue muttered under her breath. ‘Are we there yet dad?’ And gave me her cheeky smile. I smiled back as Pun answered.

  ‘Only about thirty miles or so, though we are going to have to hit the A and B roads from here to avoid worse snarl ups than we’ve just passed.’ Replied Pun as he kept his eyes on the road.

  ‘And how will we be doing for ammunition after our last two engagements?’ Was the question I was most worried about asking.

  Pun Shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t worry. Behind enemy lines we carry extra fuel, food, sleeping kit, spares, supplies etc etc but as we know the round trip is only going to be two hundred and sixty to three hundred miles back to Brize, we won’t need the extra fuel and supplies and seeing as this enemy isn’t one we can surrender to should we get short, then every extra space we won’t be using for that will be full of ammunition. Believe me when I say we won’t be going short of that anytime soon.’ He smiled.

  I sat back for the first time actually relaxed about something on this journey.

  Chapter 8

  We had been switching between A and B roads as per the route he had from the planes at a fairly sensible pace for twenty minutes or so and it had just started to rain. Not had much of that for a month or so, so I doubt anyone would complain. Christopher would be grateful for it for his veg planting and the lads would be glad that they were wearing their ponchos as it would wash off a lot of the zombie splatter without them having to do it later on.

  The radio sparked up with excited intervehicle chatter that I couldn’t quite make out. I think you had to have a certain type of hearing to understand what was said through the crackles and static fizz and pops of a military radio. We all started to slowly pull over in line. Pun turned slightly to us in the back as he guided the 110 onto the hard shoulder and stopped. ‘One of my men has spotted something we must investigate.’ He informed us. ‘I’m sorry but it won’t take long.’

  Sue, Camouflage and I looked at each other all silently wondering what it could be that we needed to stop and look at. We all got out and followed Pun on over to the Jackal as that’s where everyone else was congregating. As we got to the front of the huge tired, sand coloured beast and our vision was unobscured we saw what they had stopped for. Just off the Motorway directly in front of us was a field full of tents and makeshift shelters absolutely flattened. It looked like a multi coloured patchwork quilt. Not a single tent stood erect. All were ripped, torn, with split poles and flapping on the ground with what pegs and belongings were left in them holding them down. There must have been fifty or more of them easily. The fence surrounding the field was quite substantial as far as wooden and wire field fences went, designed to stop cows and other livestock from breaking out onto the motorway and causing havoc, but there was a breach through both the fence and the hedge in front of it twenty yards wide! It was almost as if it had been shaved into the hedge and field. It was precise and not randomly shaped, like where forests have a fire break in them. A chap on top of the jackal with binoculars beckoned Pun up towards him. He gave Pun the binoculars and pointed in the direction he had been scanning. Pun looked worried and got back down, quickly spoke to five of his men sending them off into the field and then came back to us. ‘It looks like a massive swath of zombies has come through here.’ He pointed to the fence and field. ‘Straight through here, and out again the same at the top, killing and eating their way through the field.’

  ‘Could it have been that crowd we passed earlier on the M42?’ Sue asked.

  Pun shook his head. ‘Even that lot couldn’t have caused this much damage. This happened fast and aggressively when people were in their tents, there must have been thousands of them, and it was most likely late night. This is normally what our job is, to track large swarms and take them out but this is way bigger than we have seen before.’

  I joined in. ‘So that lot at the bridge weren’t really that many?’

  ‘Well you wouldn’t want them popping around for
some milk and sugar would you?’ He quipped with a little smile. ‘We regularly take out pockets like that every other day, but as I said, today we are not on Zombie clean up duty so we can’t get bogged down with it.’ He pointed to several of his men out in the field taking pics and trying to gather what clues they could from what was left. ‘But we like to document what has happened and where, the more we know about their movements the better prepared we can be.’

  Several gunshots rang out as some of the flattened tents started to wriggle and stand up responding to the footfall and noise of the soldiers doing their investigations, but the Paras swiftly put them back down into their polyester coffins. It reminded me of the other night back at the school, where they were trapped in the tents but still trying to get at me through the flimsy fabric. These were poor sods that had probably been trampled to death in their sleep and not even bitten. Thinking about it, that would probably be a better way to go though, trampled to death in your sleep not even knowing it had happened rather than being torn to shreds and bleeding out whilst you scream your lungs out on your way to becoming one of the undead.

  Pun whistled and signalled with a waved hand that his men should return back to the vehicles and they did so, still calmly dropping the odd tent or flap of fabric that rose out of the ground with a single well aimed shot as they carefully picked their way through the carnage and debris.

  They handed Pun their cameras, had a brief conversation, then we all mounted up in the vehicles and soon left the morbid field of trampled tents behind us as we made our way to our destination in almost silence.

  ‘Coming up on four miles away from the Whittington facility now.’ Pun announced a few minutes later. ‘Twenty minutes max I would think.’