Z-Series (Book 4): Z-Takeover

by Hatchett

  “How does it feel?” Ahmed asked.

  “How the fuck do ya think it feels, ya prick,” Mamba hissed. “It’s fuckin’ dislocated.”

  “So?” Ahmed replied. “Yer’ve done it afore.”

  “It still fuckin’ hurts though,” Mamba pointed out.

  “Baby.”

  “I’ll fuckin’ show ya who’s a fuckin’…”

  Ahmed suddenly wrenched Mamba’s arm then eased it back, Mamba screaming in pain.

  The noise attracted nearby zombies who started heading in their direction. There was nowhere to go except over the side and the long drop down to the road below.

  “Give us a knife,” Issy ordered urgently.

  Mamba looked at the approaching zombies through tears and could immediately tell there was no way through. Although they were dirty, it seemed that these bastards had blocked noses or something because they kept coming on. He looked at Ahmed and nodded while he gave his knife to Gina and pulled out another.

  As the zombies got closer the five of them slashed and stabbed, but there seemed to be too many. They were slowly pushed back, closer to the edge.

  Mamba took out a second knife with his left hand, although his shoulder was still screaming in pain. He’d rather have the pain than be dead, so he began stabbing with both hands.

  The next thing they knew, the zombies around them began falling and it took them a few seconds to realise that it was Basir and his group were helping to take them out from behind.

  Once the zombies were dead, Basir’s team turned outwards to provide a protective ring and a blood splashed Basir came forward with a massive smile on his face.

  “Heard you scream and thought you were a goner,” he said to Mamba. “Thought you were better than that.”

  “Wasn’t my fuckin’ fault,” Mamba replied, glaring at Gina. “It was that stupid bitch.”

  Gina realised that now was probably not the time to say anything, so she kept her mouth shut.

  Mamba approached her. “Knife,” he ordered, and Gina handed it over.

  Mamba turned to Issy who was already holding out her knife for him to take.

  Mamba lent down and sliced one of the dead zombies. He pulled out its entrails and started rubbing it all over himself.

  “Ya better do the same,” he suggested over his shoulder, then looked up at Basir. “How old was the blood we put on earlier?”

  “I dunno, it was done by Volkan’s people,” Basir replied.

  Mamba thought about it, wondering whether they had been stitched up by Volkan by using animal blood or something. ‘Nah, couldn’t be’, he thought, ‘otherwise we would’ve bin attacked earlier’.

  “Maybe it goes off,” Mamba wondered aloud.

  “What do ya mean?” Ahmed asked.

  “The zombie blood and guts. Maybe it goes off after a while. Stops smellin’ right.”

  “Still fuckin’ smells as far as I’m concerned,” Ahmed pointed out, wrinkling his nose.

  “Yeah, but yer not a fuckin’ zombie…yet,” Mamba replied, “‘n anyway, blood ‘n guts always smell.”

  They all thought about it, but no one had anything to add. What they were all thinking was ‘Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t’. The simple answer was that they didn’t know.

  Mamba decided that this theory needed to be tested out, but now was not the right time.

  “Ya betta do the same ‘n we betta get goin’,” Mamba said, then added, “Thanks Basir.”

  Basir had a huge smile on his face as he and his team leant over to start covering themselves in fresh gore.

  Mamba looked around and saw another team on the far side of the roundabout, He stuck up his thumb to show that everything was OK, and the other team carried on with their journey.

  Once everyone was freshly dirty, Mamba allowed Basir and his group to move out first while he looked around at the pile of zombies at his feet. One was still twitching so he quickly removed his knife and plunged it into the zombie’s head.

  “I should do the same to ya, Princess,” He suggested with a humourless grin, “but then I wouldn’t wanna fuck ya. Let’s go.”

  Mamba strode off followed by Ahmed and Issy. Ayla gave Gina an openly hostile look and set off, pulling Gina along with her.

  28

  Day 17 – 11:45

  Broadwater Farm Estate, Tottenham

  The two Apache’s circled the Broadwater Farm Estate while the third returned to Heathrow for refuelling. They made sure that they stayed far enough away in case the civilians there had any ground to air missiles or rockets. They had tried to contact the estate over various frequencies, but there had been no response. They had also seen the crucifixes and shapes on top of the outer roof and reported back.

  One of the two Lynx heli’s carrying Andy and Travis flew back to Heathrow on Jack’s orders. The last thing he wanted were a couple of hotheads causing unnecessary trouble for no reason. The second Lynx carrying the Major and Irish flew over the pyramid slowly then banked towards the West and headed for the large grass area know as Lordship Recreation Ground. They descended slowly, aiming to land as close to the residential buildings as possible, and watched as some civilians quickly left the area and others carrying weapons came running towards them.

  Once the heli had landed, the Major and Irish got out and the Lynx took off again to join the Apache’s circling the area.

  The Major and Irish held their hands up at shoulder height to show that they were no threat and preyed that the men jogging towards them didn’t shoot first and ask questions later.

  A tall, slim Turk slowed and held up a hand before coming to a stop a few metres away.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” he asked in a heavy Turkish accent, which took the two newcomers a few seconds to figure out.

  The Major stepped forwards. “My name is Simon, but I’m known as the Major. My colleague is Irish.”

  “So, what’s his name?” the Turk asked.

  “Irish. It’s a nickname,” the Major replied. “I’m sure you’ve got nicknames.”

  The Turk nodded in understanding.

  “We would like to speak to whoever is in charge around here,” the Major continued.

  “Volkan,” the Turk said. “He sent us to get you. Come with us.”

  With that, he turned and headed towards the entrance to the Pyramid. The others with him waited until the two visitors had gone past before falling in behind them.

  Ten minutes later and they were walking through the double doors into Volkan’s penthouse, and despite themselves, the visitors were amazed by the panoramic views.

  “Welcome.” Volkan rose from his seat and approached his visitors, his arm extending to shake their hands. “Please come and take a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

  The Major introduced himself and Irish and declined the drink invitation as they sat down.

  Volkan studied the two men as they studied him. “I like your uniforms,” Volkan said, spotting the camera fixed to their headgear. “I guess we have others watching and listening?”

  “Yes, our friends at Heathrow airport are listening in,” the Major confirmed.

  “Ah, Heathrow,” Volkan noted. “I have heard a lot about you, and I suspected it might be you when I saw the helicopters buzzing around. I don’t suppose you have a spare one I could have? I’ve always wanted a helicopter or a private jet.”

  “Unfortunately, not,” the Major replied.

  “I would buy it from you,” Volkan offered earnestly.

  “I’m sorry, they’re not for sale,” the Major replied.

  “That’s a shame,” Volkan said wistfully.

  “Can I ask who told you about us?” the Major enquired.

  “His name is Mamba, although I suspect you already know that. He had a lot to say about you, none of it good, I might add.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised,” the Major said. “I don’t suppose you know where he happens to be?”

  “I’m afraid not, I have no id
ea,” Volkan replied. “He came, he went, he aims to conquer. I assume you’ve upset him in some way?”

  The Major ignored the question.

  “Can you tell me what he wanted?” the Major asked.

  “Sure. He wanted my help…and I declined,” Volkan said. “Politely, of course. I wouldn’t want Mamba’s wrath pointed in my direction, especially after hearing what happened to my brother…and I understand they were supposed to be partners! Quite frankly, I could do without the hassle and Mamba is nothing but hassle. No, we have a nice community here and I want it to stay that way.”

  “When exactly did you meet him?” the Major asked.

  “He arrived out of the blue, earlier this morning, and left soon after. In fact, you’ve only missed him by a couple of hours, so I’m sure he couldn’t have gone too far.”

  “Who was with him?” Irish asked.

  “There were about twenty of them. Mamba, his tall friend and some relatives I didn’t know I had, plus two women who he said were his prisoners.”

  Both the Major and Irish were now sitting forwards in their seats. This was the first news of Issy and Gina and the fact that they were both still alive.

  “Were the two women OK?” Irish asked, hearing Andy and Travis shouting out question after question in his earpiece.

  “They seemed fine,” Volkan said. “They looked tired and a little bedraggled, but I allowed them all to take a nice hot shower and get a change of clothes before they left. Were they your people?” he asked.

  Again, the two visitors ignored the question.

  “Do you know what Mamba had planned or where they were going?” Irish asked.

  “I didn’t ask,” Volkan said. “None of my business and I really didn’t want to get involved any more than I already had. All I can tell you is that they crossed the recreation ground over there and disappeared from sight,” he added as he pointed to the West and the area where the two visitors had landed earlier.

  The Major and Irish heard Jack through their earpieces, instructing the heli’s to converge on Wood Green and search that area.

  “Well, thanks for your help,” the Major said, and rose to his feet, ready to shake Volkan’s hand. “Just one more question if you don’t mind?”

  “Please, go ahead,” Volkan agreed.

  “Why did your newfound relatives go with Mamba rather than stay here with you?”

  “You would have to ask them that. They could have stayed if they’d wanted, but they chose to follow Mamba. Who am I to interfere?” he asked rhetorically. “The people in this community can leave whenever they like, but none have done so. As I said, we have a good life here, well, as good as it can be in these trying times, and who in their right mind would want to give that up?”

  “You have a very nice place,” Irish remarked. “must have cost you a pretty penny?”

  “I worked hard before the zombies came along, and luckily property around this area was cheaper than most, although that’s sort of irrelevant now isn’t it?”

  The Major and Irish thanked Volkan for his time and headed for the exit. They didn’t speak as they were escorted back down to the ground and across to the Recreation Ground where the Lynx was coming back in to land.

  Once they were aboard, strapped in and had taken off, the Major asked what everyone thought about their short meeting with Volkan.

  “I think we have a better educated and more intelligent version of Sully,” Bear opined, through their earpieces. “Although that wouldn’t be difficult. I think he made his money the same way, but at the top end of the scale. However, I have to admit I can understand why he might not want to have anything to do with Mamba.”

  “The jury’s still out for me,” Irish said. “I don’t trust him, but as far as we know, he’s telling the truth.”

  “I think we should bring him in for questioning,” they heard through their earpieces from Travis.

  “That would probably just start another war,” Jack interrupted. “Let’s see if we get any luck with the Wood Green search. But I agree with Bear and Irish. Up until now we’ve always seen the good in people and taken them at their word. We need to be far more suspicious and forceful.”

  “Agreed,” said the Major. “We’ll be back soon, and we can then decide our next steps.”

  29

  Day 17 – 12:00

  A10, Great Cambridge Road

  Mamba and the others had left the roundabout and were continuing their walk up the A10. The road was dual-carriageway lined with trees and with houses to one side and a park to the other. There were vehicles strewn across the road and the odd one which had crashed into the nearby houses. There were zombies, but not as many as there had been just a short while earlier. Indeed, many zombies were still trapped in their vehicles, snapping at the windows as the group passed.

  This road was not dissimilar to some of the roads Mamba had taken down to Heathrow and he was beginning to get fed up with the same sort of scenery. He was getting to the point where he just wanted to use a vehicle and he didn’t care if Heathrow did spot him.

  There was a signpost which said, ‘Enfield 3’.

  “Fuck, another three miles,” Mamba muttered, “‘n my shoulda is fuckin’ killin’, no thanks ta Ahmed ‘n the Princess, ‘n for yer information, Ahmed, I’m not a fuckin’ baby! I’d like ta see ya deal with it. Ya would’ve bin bawlin’.”

  “Yeah, right! Like ya were, ya mean,” Ahmed agreed sarcastically, and started rubbing underneath his eyes, mimicking someone who was crying.

  “Arsehole,” Mamba muttered. “Anyway, how far is three miles?”

  “Three miles,” Ahmed replied, “Duh!”

  “I meant how far in kilometres, ya prick!” Mamba replied.

  “Well why didn’t ya say that then?” Ahmed queried.

  “Yer right, Ahmed, I should’ve, ‘cos yer a fuckin’ imbecile.”

  “If that’s the case, then why ya askin’ me?” Ahmed asked.

  “I wasn’t askin’ ya, I was askin’ in general,” Mamba replied.

  “Ya were talkin’ to me when ya asked it,” Ahmed pointed out.

  “Who the fuck cares?” Mamba almost shouted, starting to get angry. “Does any fucker know what three miles is in kilometres?”

  There was a little bit of silence before Gina said, “I think it’s about one point five miles for every kilometre, so about four and a half kilometres.”

  “Fuck,” Mamba muttered.

  “Nah, it’s one point six zero nine kilometres for every mile,” Ahmed disagreed.

  “So, ya knew all along but ya couldn’t just tell me,” Mamba raged. “Had ta be fuckin’ awkward. Twat!”

  “Should’ve asked nicely.”

  Mamba was going to respond but decided against it.

  “Anyone want to play ‘I spy’?” Mamba asked.

  “No, we fuckin’ don’t,” Ahmed replied before anyone else could respond. “Ya fuckin’ cheat anyway.”

  “I fuckin’ don’t!”

  “Do.”

  “Boys, can we talk about something which we don’t argue about?” Ayla asked, thoroughly bored with the conversation.

  “Like what? Sex?” Mamba asked. “What’s yer favourite position, Princess?”

  “No!” Ayla almost shouted. “Why does it have to be arguing or you talking about sex or ‘Men at Work’? Don’t you have any other interests?”

  Mamba thought about it while Issy and Gina grinned at each other.

  “Killin’?” Mamba asked.

  “No.”

  “Fightin’?”

  “No.”

  “Robbin’?”

  “No.”

  “Football,” Issy suggested. “All men go on and on about football.”

  Mamba looked at her. “Shut up Cobra, I hate football. Fuckin’ poof’s game.”

  “There you go again calling her ‘Cobra’,” Ayla pointed out. “What’s with this nickname?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mamba replied. He turned and approac
hed Issy, and before she could do anything, he whipped up her top and stood aside so Ayla could see the snake tattoo in the centre of her chest.

  “Ah, I get it,” Ayla said with a snarl, “you did fuck her. That’s why you were late to the pub yesterday. Two snakes writhing together.”

  “Nah, we fuckin’ didn’t!” Mamba shouted, as Issy shook her head in denial, “but we could get in one of these houses right now ‘n do it if ya like, then ya can have summat to nag ‘bout.”

  “They didn’t,” Ahmed confirmed. “Can we go now, we’re attractin’ attention again.”

  As Ayla looked at Ahmed then checked behind her back, Mamba tweaked Issy’s nipple and smiled cunningly before dropping her top and looking around himself. There were a few zombies looking in their direction and a couple more turning around. Mamba started walking, quickly followed by the others, and turned to look over his shoulder every few paces until they were in the clear.

  “Ya gonna get us killed if ya keep this up,” he accused Ayla, who had gone silent, thinking things through.

  They walked on for a hundred metres before the houses on either side of the road seemed to move further back and a grass verge appeared separating them from a separate side road running parallel to the one they were on. A road sign showed that the speed limit was forty miles per hour. ‘Chance would be a fuckin’ fine thing,” Mamba thought to himself. They’d be at the hotel in minutes, rather than hours. He considered using one of the abandoned cars but knew that it was too risky.

  Then he spotted a speed camera.

  “Look at that bastard,” Mamba said.

  Everyone looked around, wondering what he was going on about.

  “What?” Ahmed asked.

  “That fuckin’ speed camera.” Mamba pointed. “I hate ‘em.”

  “So, what?” Ahmed asked.

  “Fuckin’ councils ‘n cops stitchin’ up motorists ‘n rippin’ ‘em off!” Mamba barked. “Break it, Ahmed.”

  “I don’t think it really matters anymore,” Ahmed replied, looking around. “Anyway, how many times ya bin caught?”

  “A few,” Mamba acknowledged.