I dragged the body across the mezzanine and bumped it down the wooden stairs. Two thirds of the way down them the bloody bag split and started to leak bodily fluids. I grabbed a handful of rags and stuffed them into the bags hole and used a 2” wide roll of masking tape I found to had to seal it up. It did the job and I got the bloke out of the building and into the yard. I dumped him in the hedge and used an old stained canvas tarpaulin on top of him. I was sure Sarah hadn’t seen and made my way back to the 90. Having a last scan around and seeing nothing I jumped in and reversed it in slowly. Once parked I shut the heavy doors and locked them.
Sarah opened the door but didn’t get out. ‘Will anyone be coming back?’
It was a good question that I had asked myself but dismissed. Who in their right mind would leave somewhere like this, nice and secure, secluded, quiet and wide open and unprotected? ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine and its only for one night.’ Opening the rear door of the 90 I pulled out an expedition box with a single ring gas burner, cartridges and pots. Set up the cooker on the office desk with pots alongside. Another expedition box was full of packets and cans. I looked at Sarah, she was still sat in the passenger seat, door open. ‘Are you hungry?’ she shook her head, but I could tell she was lying. ‘I’ll leave the box here and cooker set up. If you want anything, don’t ask, just help yourself.’ Smiling at her I pointed to the roof of the 90. ‘There’s a tent up there with a really comfy bed in it. Have something to eat then get in and have some well needed sleep. I’ve got a few jobs I need to do and a bit of scrounging what I can from this place then I’ll kip in the office.’
Sarah looked at me with a sceptical look on her face. ‘There is a tent on the roof?!’
I smiled and beckoned her out and towards the back. ‘Follow me.’ I walked her to the back of the 90 and about three meters back. ‘Watch this.’ I climbed the roof ladder, popped a few butterfly clips and cranked the handle a few times and the hard-topped tent popped up. ‘Tah dah!’ I exclaimed as I balanced on the ladder.
‘That’s actually pretty cool.’ She admitted. ‘And it’s huge!’
‘Well it’s all yours when you’ve eaten and what have you.’
I left Sarah rummaging around the food box and headed to the back corner of the garage where I spied a fabrication area. Plate steel, scaffolding poles and various other bits were stacked in a rack by the wall. On little wheeled trollies were a plasma cutter with built in compressor, TIG welder and a big MIG welder. A plan formed in my mind along with a very loud A-Team theme tune and a smile formed on my lips. I loved it as much as Hannibal Smith when a plan came together. The thickest plate steel was 12mm thick and there were several 3 foot by 4-foot sheets of it. Lots of smaller off cuts were on the shelves. Kind of out of place for a garage, you would think they would use much smaller gauge for repairs. The poles were also out of place unless the owner was into making other things too.
Anyway, 12mm steel would make great door armour. I looked around and found tape and card. With supplies at the ready I made a pattern for the outside of the doors, marking out the handles and hinges. I donned the provided mask and using the plasma cutter cut out two outer pieces. Once cut and cooled I pop riveted it on with a ton of rivets onto both doors. The edges were as the plasma cutter left them, I didn’t file it down, it was as rough as a badger’s satchel, but it was for our safety, not any design awards. Same went for paint, a few rattle cans of primer and satin black were all I could find but would do the job. Inside I removed the door cards and did the same, but this time several layers of gaffa tape tidied and softened the inside edges a fair bit. These were put on using self-tapper screws so that should I need access to the window winding or locking mechanisms I could still get to them.
I dug around in one of the boxes in the back of the 90 and found some hefty sprung loaded barrel bolts for driveway gates. land rover locks aren’t renowned for their level of security so if we are surrounded or sleeping inside these will act as deadlocks that are only openable from inside. These were fitted through the plate and into the door frame with a bit more duct tape to protect against rough edges. In the middle of this crisis any cuts and splinters could become nasty quickly without medical aid.
I was pleased with my work. We now had the best part of an inch of plate steel on both doors, it would certainly deny arrows, 12g shot and .22 and probably stop or at least lessen the effectiveness of anything bigger at anything but point-blank range I was likely to encounter here in the UK. I tightened the hinges and latches, giving everything a good load of lubrication due to the hike in weight each door was now expected to handle.
Time to turn my attention to the front. As I picked up one of the scaffolding poles, I could see Sarah sat in the office chair staring at the walls. Poor cow. So much trauma for her in the last 2 days, I was hoping that some hot food and comfy sleep might be a miracle cure, but I knew shit all about trauma counselling, so I didn’t hold out any hope of that happening, so I left her to it. There were two scaffolding poles, one was 2” shorter than the 90 was wide which was ideal. The winch bumper had taken a beating since we had left the house this morning. It was probably safe to say that it had saved my life on several occasions. Despite the punishment it wasn’t too badly bent but a bit of beefing up wouldn’t hurt.
A bit of grinding and I ‘G’ clamped the pole on directly in front of the bumper bar and welded it on with several 1” stitches top and bottom with the MIG welder. I was certainly no welder, it looked like a condor had taken a shit all over it but it wasn’t going to come off and would do the job intended of it. I had decided against the use of the second pole as I didn’t want to add too much weight to the front of the 90 as my next idea was going to add a bit. The front of the 90 was a mess, zombie shit was everywhere, some of which thanks to the radiator and heat of the MIG welder smelt cooked. The plastic front grill was smashed to pieces and clogged full of undead soup, so it had to come off. I assembled what was left of the shattered plastic on top of a sheet of expanded metal, the type of thing that industrial suspended gangways are made from and set to work with the plasma cutter again.
Once cut out and cooled I put it to one side, got a large drain pan and placed it under the radiator and using the same trick from earlier with the plastic bottle washed out the blood, teeth, hair and other fluids caking the front of the vehicle. Using the part cleaning brush I found, I had a good root around, cleaning out anything I could reach, then carefully moved the pan over to the door, I’d chuck it out in the morning. I gave the grill some more primer and satin black, even glued the land rover logo back on. Edd China would have been proud of me, and I still maintain he has shares in satin black spray paint. With the use of some more self-tapping screws it was re-joined with the front. The way it was louvered wasn’t too much different from the original grill so airflow shouldn’t be affected but everything behind it will now be much safer.
A look at the wall clock showed it to be 9:20. I was done. It had been one long ass day, time for a clean-up in the toilets, something to eat and sleep. When I came out of the toilets, I could see Sarah still in the office chair and asleep. I gently woke her, half expecting her to jump out of her skin and scream the place down but luckily, she didn’t. ‘Get up that ladder, wrap up and get some sleep, after tonight you might not get another comfy sleep for a while.’ She got up still half asleep and red eyed, nodded and headed for the 90. I grabbed a pack of chicken curry and set about cooking it. Just before it was ready, I got an AA road map off the office bookshelf and started looking at our travelling options as I ate a passable curry like substance swilled down with a mug of sweet black tea and a Mars bar.
I turned all the lights out and checked the door, a quick scan out of the high, slit like windows showed nothing moving and we were still alone. There were only two of them and I had to stand on my tip toes to look out of them. No bars on the windows but heavy mesh was bolted to the walls around them. I cleaned the desk of items, threw my thermarest and sleeping bag on it
and climbed in. Despite the days full on activities and shit going around my mind sleep came very easily.
Chapter 12
Just after 8am in the morning and I was wide awake. Looking around from my bed, all appeared the same as last night. My back and neck were a bit stiff but would soon wear off once I got moving about. I climbed out of my nice cocoon and stood up on the floor. I put my shoes on and shoved the sleeping bag back in its stuff sack, deflated the thermarest mat and rolled it into its bag. I slept fully dressed last night just in case we had to move quickly. Normally sleeping in my clothes was uncomfortable but I was so shattered last night it didn’t matter. Opening the office door and stepping into the workshop I could feel the temperature was a fair bit lower than the office, even without heating. Sarah would have been fine in the roof tent with insulated thick canvas sides and thick mattress and duvet. I was jealous.
Looking at the roof tent I could see it was still shut with no movement, so I assumed she was still asleep, so I left her. She would soon wake up when she smelled brekkie.
I went around the building and checked the doors and windows. Still all quiet and no movement outside. No need for lights this morning, the sun was bright and beaming through the sky lights. Walking over to the stock shelves I found practically nothing worth bothering with, which was disappointing seeing as this was a rural garage, I’d have hoped for a few spares of the Solihull variety at least. A new, but small, 440A 12 Volt battery fully charged, box of coffee sachets, half a box of single-serve UHT milk, three cans of tyre seal – with all the bloody arrows flying around I can’t have too much of the stuff – nothing else parts wise apart from some agricultural type fuel filters. They won’t fit the 90 but I should be able to bodge some kind of pre-filtering system together should I need to. No knowing what state fuel be in the future. Might even come in handy should I have to run on straight vegetable oil someday.
With my very mini shop done, I turned my attention to breakfast. Two packs of scrambled egg and bacon. I knew Sarah like it as it’s what she ate last night before bed and none was left on her plate . . . just the bloody wrappers on the table three feet from a bin.
Sure enough, before I could call for her the tent unzipped like it was a tiny car on a racetrack and her head popped out – hair like Beetlejuice and eyes much the same, must have been a pretty broken, toss turning sleep from the look of her.
‘How did you sleep?’ I asked, then quickly added. ‘Don’t say “I led down and shut my eyes”!’
Whatever she was about to say she stopped for a moment before saying. ‘On and off but the bed was quite comfy thanks.’
‘Good, glad you liked it. Brekkie is served, help yourself to tea.’
She walked over and thanked me. Then sat down and started stuffing her face.
I looked over at Sarah. ‘I’ve planned another route to Bristol, avoiding the motorway but . . . I cannot guarantee we won’t meet others like yesterday.’
Sarah looked over at the 90 and, still chewing her breakfast, replied. ‘Well it looks like it could handle more than yesterday.’
I laughed. ‘True, but windows are still normal glass and I don’t have enough metal to make more shields for the windows. I’ve already added quite a bit of weight to it with what I’ve already done.’
Still chewing and with her mouth open looking like a cement mixer of food. ‘What about the Lexan?’ she asked.
‘Lexan?’
‘Yeh basically bullet-proof, well fairly bullet-proof glass.’ She said with a smile.
‘I know what Lexan is, but there isn’t any here.’
She smiled again. ‘There’s two sheets upstairs above some other stuff you might be interested in.’
‘I’ve been upstairs and.’ I didn’t tell her about the dead body, ‘There was just some trestle tables and woodworking tools. It’s probably just Perspex. You’ve been watching too much MythBusters.’
The typical teenage girl pout came out. ‘Well I could show you or sod off back to bed. Plus, I know Lexan when I see it. Dad used to sell it.’
I held my tongue about how her Dad should have used the bloody stuff himself – that way I wouldn’t have smashed his back window on his car. We scoffed down the remains of our packed brekkies and cups of tea and headed to the Mezz floor. Sarah cleared the steps two at a time and got amongst the junk. I had been too preoccupied with the body when I was up here to notice too much of what was here. At the back were two trestles with scaffolding planks between them making a large makeshift bench. On it was the woodworking tools I first noticed, jigsaw, battery drill, masking tape, pens etc. To the other end were some off-cuts of what looked like thick Perspex but was, according to Sarah, Lexan.
Sorting through some of the shit on the bench I noticed some large sheets of paper. Freeing them up and opening them out I could see sketches of a Honda HRV detailing where to fit plates of metal, sheets of Lexan and front and rear bull bar bumpers. Someone who had the same idea as me for making a homemade armoured vehicle. Only thing is, the second sheet revealed that they had a different purpose for building theirs - it showed two Building Societies almost opposite each other in what looked like a pedestrian precinct. It looked like these guys were planning to rob two Building societies in Dursley at the same time!
Shit! These guys must have taken over the garage and killed the owner to get ready for the heist. Now it felt less like a workshop and more like a London arches lockup for an East-end gang and not a rural village garage.
The fact that the body hadn’t turned showed that he was killed and the HRV was built pre-zombie infection. Whether the rise of the dead had taken a shit on their heist plans or not I didn’t know. Either way, they hadn’t been back since leaving. I just didn’t know when that was. Judging by the fact the place was clean made me think they were only here briefly. I was only here one night with a teenager and the place was already messy!
By the time I had digested what information was around, Sarah came bounding back up the stairs with pen, pad and tape measure in hand. I hadn’t even noticed she had gone. She was smiling.
‘I’ve measured the windscreen and side windows and putting some behind the seats, between the front and back, makes sense if we have any left don’t you think?’ She said whilst clearing the bench and organising tools.
I didn’t say anything. No doubt she was trying to be useful and busy, trying to take her mind off losing her family. I had done the same years ago when I lost both of my parents. Keeping busy kept me sane and out of trouble.
She took the drawing of the HRV and flipped it over. A bit of swishing and swashing with a pen and there was a bloody good pic of the 90 in front of us both. I was impressed. She was like a teenage female Chip Foose with a pen! A few more scribbles and She had added dimensions plus where and how to fix the Lexan to various places – fair play, she was one switched on teenager!
We got to work marking up with the tape and pens, using the protractors, angle finders and straight edges they had left behind. Boxes of empty rubber gloves were in the bins but no rubber gloves anywhere. Made me wonder if these guys wore gloves so as not to leave prints. And the toilet was so clean and reeking of bleach – to remove DNA? But then why leave drawings etc? Unless of course the infection had taken hold before they made their final exit. My mind swam with questions and ‘what ifs’ but mentioned nothing to Sarah still.
We chatted on and off whilst we worked. Sarah talked about how she often helped her dad with DIY and that she loved doing wood and metalwork design at school but that her mum and dad had wanted her to concentrate more on academic subjects instead, for her future. I wasn’t sure about what the future held for anyone now, but I did know she was bloody good at the design and not too shabby with using the tools either. She didn’t have to poke her tongue out when cutting around corners like me, although I only did it to cheer her up, honest!
Lunch time came and went. Neither of us mentioned food so we kept working. The 90 gained a full width Lexan front screen flu
sh against the original glass with wipers now on the Lexan. Despite the thickness of the Lexan, the wipers didn’t need any adjustment to get them to sit flush. The side doors got the treatment but fixed on the inside of the window grills. This allowed the side windows to still be wound down for ventilation. After eating all these packet meals ventilation will be a high priority!
Despite the amount we had achieved so far, today I couldn’t help but get the impression that although Sarah was enjoying helping that she was stalling and going slow with some of the jobs.
I had already decided earlier on that I’d tell her we will stop here another night. She was probably fretting about going back out onto the road and still shaken about yesterday and its events. I’d be lying if I said that what had happened yesterday hadn’t bothered me. I just hoped to fuck that every day from now on wasn’t going to be like it.
With Sarah though I was sure that if she helped beef up the 90 a bit, and had some more faith in its safety and security, she would be less apprehensive. Another night of unbroken sleep was also sure to help us both!
I unpacked the rear of the 90, stacking the crates and boxes to one side for now, and set about fitting the Lexan screens to the dog guard/partition. They were made from the offcuts so not the neatest job, but they would do the job of protecting us and cutting down on the area of cab that we would have to heat on cold night inside.
Despite the roof, which had a hefty roof rack and tent, I figured we would be safe from most of the gunfire, arrows and zombie attacks we were likely to encounter. My only worry was the tyres. I had foam aplenty to put in should I have a puncture, but it wasn’t the same as the product you put in your tyres to prevent punctures. I had to console myself that it was better than nothing and deal with any problems when they came my way.
The Reanimated Dead (Book 1): Into the Cotswolds Page 9