by Hatchett
“Yer jus’ sore ya missed,” Mamba laughed. “Strong silent types eh? Well, if ya don’t wanna talk, perhaps me ‘n Ahmed should jus’ fuck ya brains out.”
That got Issy and Gina’s attention as they looked up from their drink and stared at him.
“Only jokin’. That comes later. Get it? ‘Comes’ later? Never mind.”
“When we goin’ ta the Oatsheaf?” Ahmed asked.
“Fuckin’ Hell Ahmed,” Mamba raged. “What’s wrong wiv ya? We only jus’ got here!”
“Only askin’,” Ahmed replied, meekly.
“Later, OK?” Mamba said. “Now, where were we? Oh yeah, ya two bitches tryin’ to kill me.” Mamba stared at them.
“What do you expect?” Gina asked. “You kill people, you rape people, you torture people.”
“What’s not ta like?” Mamba asked with his arms spread and a quizzical look on his face.
Gina sat back and sighed. It was obvious they wouldn’t get any sense out of him. She was a bit frustrated; she could usually read people very quickly and act accordingly – she’d had to with her old job – but with Mamba it was difficult to work him out because he seemed to change from one second to the next.
“A man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do, Princess. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. I didn’t mean ta do it, it just happened. It was an accident. I’m sorry ‘n all that shite. Blah, blah, blah. Is that what ya wanna hear?” Mamba snorted. “Actually, I happen ta like it. A lot. And now there’s no one ‘round ta stop me, includin’ ya two. Ya shouldn’t stick yer noses in where they ain’t wanted or they might get bit off.”
Gina turned to Ahmed, “Do you have an opinion?”
“He agrees with me,” Mamba interrupted.
“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Ahmed.”
Ahmed looked at Gina then Mamba but didn’t say anything.
“Well fuckin’ answer the lady!” Mamba ordered.
“Keep me the fuck outta it,” Ahmed replied.
“He’s jus’ shy,” Mamba explained.
Mamba turned to Issy. “Cat got yer tongue, Cobra?”
Issy just stared back.
“If yer inta snakes, Cobra, ya could lick my big thick Mamba then I could lick yers,” Mamba offered. “We could do it at the same time if ya really want. I’m easy.”
Issy looked towards the ceiling.
Mamba’s smile disappeared and he launched himself at Issy and punched her hard in the stomach. He withdrew his knife and thrust it up under her chin and, with his face just an inch or so away from hers, said menacingly, “Ya fuckin’ dis me and yer dead. Got it?”
Issy was gasping for air, taken completely by surprise by the attack and winded badly. Gina was screaming for Mamba to leave her alone and pummelling him on the arm to try and get him to let Issy go, but it was having no effect whatsoever.
Eventually Issy nodded ever so slightly, careful that the knife beneath her chin didn’t break the skin.
Mamba smiled, put away his knife and sat back down and took a long pull of his beer as if nothing had happened.
If they didn’t before, Issy and Gina now knew how mercurial Mamba’s temper could be, and that it was best to keep on his good side, regardless of how hard that might be to stomach. Their lives could very well depend on it.
“So, Cobra. What’s with the pink hair?” Mamba asked genially.
“I like pink,” Issy replied in a monotone.
“It’s going blond,” Mamba noticed.
“I know.”
“We betta find a shop with some dye fer ya. Can’t have two blond princesses. I like the pink anyway. Reminds me of that singer. Guess what my favourite song of hers is?
“No idea.”
“Blow me.”
“You’re joking right?”
“Nah. Good tune.”
“I don’t think it’s that sort of ‘blow me’,” Ahmed pointed out.
“Shut up Ahmed, who the fuck cares?”
Mamba looked back at Issy. “Ya know, I think ya wish ya could be jus’ like me. Doin’ what ya want, when ya want,” Mamba suggested.
“I despise people with that attitude,” Issy replied with a little more feeling. But there had been times over the past few days when she’d had no option but to consider whether she and Mamba might be more alike than she cared to admit. Having finally met him, her mind had been put at ease to some degree; yes, they both had snake tattoos on their chests and they both liked to fight, but it was obvious Mamba had a screw loose, or more likely a few screws. His personality and demeanour could change in an instant and you never knew which Mamba you were dealing with. She could now see what Ayla meant when she’d described him earlier; she’d already seen some of the ‘little boy’, but she’d also seen some of the monster as well, and she was fairly certain she’d only seen the tip of the iceberg. Issy didn’t kid herself that she was perfect. Far from it, but she liked to think that she tried to do the right thing. However, nagging at the back of her mind was the way she had dealt with the Judge and Jury. It was the sort of thing Mamba might do if he actually thought about it rather than just reacting. She acknowledged to herself that she also had a cruel streak which would come out if the situation warranted it.
“At least yer now bein’ honest,” Mamba replied, holding up his beer bottle as if in salute.
“You have no right to treat people like you do,” Issy added.
“Survival of the fittest,” Mamba pointed out, “especially now. No room for the weak…or do-gooders.”
“That’s sad. I take it you were never loved as a kid?”
Mamba’s face hardened and he threw his empty beer bottle hard against the far wall before selecting and opening a fresh one. Issy knew she had hit a sore point and filed it away for future reference.
“What’s that got ta do with anythin’?” he asked slowly.
“Nothing,” Issy replied. “Just wondering why you are like you are.”
“Ya some sort of head doctor? Nature or nurture bull?”
“No. Just making conversation. We can talk about something else if you want. Whatever.”
“Sex?”
“No. Let’s try something else, shall we? What did you do before the zombies arrived?”
Mamba looked puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“Did you have a job, for example?”
Mamba laughed. “Ah, I see! A job! Yer fuckin’ jokin’ right? I’m the same now as then. No different.”
“Then I’m surprised you weren’t put in jail,” Issy remarked.
Mamba laughed again. “Girl, ya got no idea. Ya think the pigs were clever enough to catch me? ME? No fuckin’ chance. If they’d got too close for comfort, I’d a killed ‘em first.”
“OK,” Issy said slowly, wondering what else she could ask.
“Do ya like music?” Mamba asked.
Issy was confused by the sudden change in topic. “Some,” she allowed.
“What do ya think of ‘Down Under’ by Men at Work?”
“Oh fuck, here we go again,” Ahmed muttered and both Issy and Gina looked at him inquiringly.
“Wind yer neck in, Ahmed, ‘n let her answer the fuckin’ question.”
Issy looked back at Mamba, trying to figure out where this conversation was going and what the right answer was. At last she replied, “No. I think it’s shit.”
Mamba jumped out of his seat whooping and hollering, punching the air as if he’d just won thousands at the bookies. He leant over with his fist out straight and Issy belatedly bumped it with both her tied hands once she’d figured out what Mamba was expecting. She didn’t understand why her answer had been met with such delight until Mamba spoke again.
“Fuckin’ tol’ ya Ahmed, what did I say eh?”
Ahmed just shook his head.
“Have I missed something?” Issy asked.
“Ahmed here likes the tune and I fuckin’ hate it. See, yer jus’ like me, really,” Mamba suggested.
“Well, I like it
,” Gina advised, just to see what reaction she would get.
“Who the fuck asked ya, Princess?” Mamba turned on her, but she could see Ahmed grinning on the other side of him.
Gina shrugged.
“Ya weren’t even born when the fuckin’ thing came out,” Mamba added.
“Haven’t you heard any songs made before you were born?” Gina asked sweetly. “Elvis? The Beatles?
“’Course I fuckin’ have!” Mamba replied.
“Well then!” Gina pointed out.
Ahmed started laughing. “Gotcha there, Mamba!”
Mamba turned to look at Ahmed. “Shut the fuck up, Ahmed!” Then he turned back to Gina and asked innocently, “Who’s Elvis?”
Gina couldn’t help herself but laugh at that one. She wasn’t sure if Mamba was joking or being serious, so didn’t bother replying.
Mamba reached into his rucksack and pulled out his ‘Good Pub Guide 2016’ and started flicking through the pages.
Issy and Gina looked at each other, obviously both remembering the 2012 version they had found when they thought Mamba was dead. They both nodded imperceptibly that this was another useful piece of information.
“What ya doin’?” Ahmed asked.
“Jus’ checkin’ what it says about The Oatsheaf.
19
Day 16 – 20:30
Heathrow Terminal 3, Security Briefing Room
All the Leaders except Issy and Gina were sitting around the conference table talking amongst themselves before Jack brought the impromptu meeting to order.
They discussed the turn of events in Dalston; those that were directly involved chipping in with additional information, and those that weren’t asking questions.
Andy and Travis were particularly frustrated, angry and worried that Issy and Gina were still missing and that there had been no leads whatsoever. The heli’s were still circling the area and spreading their search wider but, as darkness had fallen, the chances of finding anything that night were diminishing.
“We go again at first light,” Jack suggested and there were nods around the table.
“Do we want people on the ground?” Bear asked. “not just pairs, but small squads. They’d be able to search buildings in the area without making themselves targets for an ambush.”
“Yes, good idea,” Jack agreed, “and at the same time we can help the people on the Dalston Estate repair some of the damage which will allow them to look after themselves again, especially with the trouble makers out of the way. I just hope the rest are law-abiding citizens.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Sean muttered.
“But we have to give them a chance,” the Major pointed out. “If they turn out to be like Sully, then we can deal with it when the time comes.”
“Anyone got anything they want to say?” Jack asked.
“Not really. We’ll each lead a small team tomorrow,” Irish suggested, “so we can cover more ground.”
“OK. We won’t bother with tomorrow’s 9am meeting,” Jack suggested and there were nods around the table. “I’m going to the bar if anyone’s interested,” he added as he rose.
There were a couple of murmurs of agreement, but it was clear that Andy and Travis wouldn’t be joining them.
20
Day 16 – 21:00
The Oatsheaf, South Tottenham
Mamba, Ahmed, Issy and Gina had made their way from Ridley Road past Hackney Downs and through Stoke Newington, heading generally Northwards, although detouring from time to time.
They had entered around a dozen shops and houses and left by different exits just in case they had been spotted. They split up into pairs on a couple of occasions and tried to change their profiles by wearing caps and hats. They came across some grizzly sights, avoided thousands of zombies and ignored many shouts for help from some of the buildings they passed. Issy and Gina had been surprised by the number of people who were still alive, thinking incorrectly that pretty much everything outside Heathrow had been wiped out.
They even came across a couple of young men who had clearly learnt the art of getting dirty. The four of them had shuffled past completely oblivious, assuming that they were just another pair of zombies and it wasn’t until the men pulled out knives and made threats that the four of them realised that they were actually human. Issy and Gina had never seen Mamba and Ahmed in action before, but the two young men were dead from stab wounds to the head within a matter of seconds. They had to admit that it had been impressive and very very quick, almost a blur; both Mamba and Ahmed had reacted instantly and decisively without any communication. It was like they were telepathically linked to one another and responded with a maximum of force and speed. The two young men hadn’t realised what had hit them until it was too late.
The further away from Dalston they got, the more relaxed Mamba and Ahmed became, especially as they had seen and heard the helicopters around that area and had had to hide in the shadows on a couple of occasions to wait for the aircraft to pass on by. Thankfully for Mamba and Ahmed, there had been no sign of any soldiers on the ground.
All four of them had been far more attentive to the nearby zombies after the incident with the two young men. If they could get dirty, then so could others, and they might not get any sort of warning the next time. Actually, looking and seeing the zombies rather than just regarding them as objects to avoid and pass by reminded them all of the horror that had taken place just a few days earlier. These had been human beings, with hopes and aspirations for their lives ahead, then scared and hurt badly before being reduced to soulless husks. There had been very little warning before their dreams turned into nightmares and it was ‘goodnight Vienna’.
Issy and Gina had been well behaved during the journey, mainly self-preservation, but also to avoid Mamba’s attention. They had both been gagged again before they left ‘The Bricklayer’s Arms’ to prevent them shouting out for help, and the threats Mamba had made before they’d left had convinced them that it was not worth risking their lives for nothing. In any case, the trip gave them a good insight into the way Mamba thought and operated, and the tactics he used to avoid detection. They both hated to admit it, but he knew what he was doing. In any case, it was all useful information and would be stored away for future use.
After Stoke Newington, they had continued Northwards through Stamford Hill into South Tottenham and the Seven Sisters area. They found the Oatsheaf one hundred or so metres from the Seven Sisters tube station on the A10, a few doors down from a massive Tesco superstore. They had travelled around four and a half kilometres North as the crow flies, but more if you considered the various detours.
The Oatsheaf was a three-storey terraced building with a print shop to one side and a solicitor on the other. The brickwork was painted white, although the front door and the window frames were black, giving it a mock-Tudor appearance. All the curtains were closed, and it seemed to be deserted.
Mamba decided to enter via the rear entrance, so they had to walk another couple of hundred metres in a loop to find the right access point. The back yard was dark with a couple of abandoned cars parked on one side and a couple of industrial sized bins on the other. The smell coming from the bins was seriously unpleasant.
Mamba took out his knife and a penlight and cautiously approached the back door while Ahmed looked after Issy and Gina.
“Get a fuckin’ move on,” Ahmed whispered loudly
“Fuck off, I am,” came the exasperated response.
Mamba put his ear against the door and couldn’t hear anything. He tried the door handle and found that it twisted easily in his grip and made no noise as he turned it. With his knife in his right hand and the penlight in his mouth, he eased the door open further and followed the torch beam as it sliced through the darkness in front of him. He spotted two doors on his right, with metal signs indicating that they were the doors to the toilets and another door directly ahead at the far end of a carpeted hallway, presumably leading towards the lounge area. To his left was
a staircase with a chain across it and the sign ‘Private’ dangling in the middle.
There was still no noise and no sign of any movement, so Mamba beckoned Ahmed to follow him as he stepped inside and held the door open. Once he felt Ahmed take hold of the door, Mamba let go and crept towards the solid looking wooden door at the end.
Again, Mamba placed his ear to the door, but couldn’t hear or feel anything beyond. He turned the handle and opened the door slowly to reveal a dull light coming from his right. He darted in that direction, bringing his knife up ready to attack then saw Ayla and Basir sitting on a bench seat facing him with smiles on their faces.
“We heard you outside the front and wondered where you’d gone,” Ayla said, rising to her feet and rushing across the room to jump into Mamba’s arms. “I missed you.”
Mamba kissed her long and hard then placed her back on the floor as Ahmed entered the room with Issy and Gina. Ayla saw them and her smile dropped and was replaced by a look of suspicion which she directed towards Mamba.
“Where have you been? We expected you ages ago,” Ayla demanded. “You better not have…”
“I ain’t!” Mamba replied and Ayla turned to Ahmed to see him nod in agreement.
Mamba walked over to fist bump Basir, who was now turning up the battery powered lamps.
“Ya done a fuckin’ great job, Basir,” Mamba told him, “especially with bugger all time to prepare.”
Basir was beaming under the praise and replied, “I’m good at piecing things together and organising, but I had a lot of help from my brothers and sisters.”
“Jus’ as well they’re on board,” Ahmed agreed, “otherwise they’d be dead by now. Where are they?”
“In small groups in different pubs in the surrounding area,” Basir explained. “No one but me knows the locations, just in case anyone got caught.”
“Good thinkin’, Basir. Good idea of mine to use the pubs as well, eh?” Mamba said. “That book is gold dust.”
“Yeah,” Basir agreed. “I chose this pub for us because its close to the supermarket and I preferred it to the others when we cleared them out and made them safe.”