Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

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Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 7

by Winkless, Lance


  The two soldiers open fire again, Alan with his automatic and Mike with his rifle; they shoot as many as they can, but these things are all over, scattering in all directions, and it is impossible to stop them all.

  The Wildcat hovers to the left and lower, closer to the police station, giving the gunner a better angle to fire underneath the flyover at the source of the flow, and it works. The flow slows and then is stopped again, so much so that the gunner can slow his fire to shorter bursts as needed.

  Mike catches something out of the corner of his eye, flying through the air off the top of the police station. He is just in time to see it hit the rotors of the Wildcat. The body explodes with a sickening thud on impact and it vaporises immediately, a cloud of red mist being blown downwards and covering the Wildcat with blood. The helicopter’s engine strains slightly, then it is instantly back up to full throttle. “Holy Shit,” is all Mike can shout before another body hits the rotors from above, to be vaporised.

  These aren’t dead, lifeless bodies; the infected people are jumping from the roof of the station and are doing it willingly in some ghastly attempt to stop the helicopter firing on the masses below, on their kin.

  Mike is stunned, but the horrific show doesn’t stop, each body followed by another and another, and there are more following. Some of the bodies land in the centre of the rotors and some farther out towards the edges. Some of the bodies miss the helicopter completely and hit the street below, their blood splattering across the street as they hit it, adding to the rain of blood already coming down from above as the blades spin. Most of the bodies are vaporised on impact with the helicopter’s rotors, chunks of flesh ejected downwards or flying out sideways.

  The scene is sickening but it’s working; the firing has stopped, and the gunner has taken refuge from the gore raining down. He is now back inside the helicopter’s hold.

  Now drenched in blood, the Wildcat’s fuselage is mainly dark red; there must have been seven or eight bodies hitting its rotors in the space of a few seconds, each making the engine strain more. The pilot takes evasive action and lifts the helicopter up, but as he does so, a body hits the very front edge of the rotors, explodes and completely drenches the front of the cab in thick, dark red blood. The engine now sounds very laboured and smoke starts escaping from its engine compartment.

  The pilot’s windscreen is covered in blood too; the wipers come on and do manage to clear some away but the engine starts to labour even further, and more smoke appears.

  With the engines struggling, the helicopter tilts slightly forward and then lurches as the engine coughs and splutters. Control is slipping away from the pilot; its rotors close in on the police station and then they slice through the glass windows of the building’s upper floors. The strain is too much for the helicopter's engine which makes an ear-piercing, high-pitched whining before the engines are silenced and the rotors come to a complete stop.

  The new Wildcat drops like a stone, tail first, pivoting on the rotors that seem to be jammed in the glass walls of the police station. The helicopter falls fast, crashing through the foyer of the station below, tail first. A second later, a massive explosion rips through the foyer as the helicopter’s fuel tanks ignite, sending a fireball upwards to engulf the front of the building.

  The aftershock and heat from the exploding Wildcat is fierce, and Mike and Alan are forced to duck down behind the flyover’s wall to take cover, both of them absolutely stunned.

  “This is all going to shit, mate, and fast,” Alan says in a panicked voice.

  In front of them on the other side of the flyover, their colleagues are still fighting, bullets are flying, grenades being thrown and rockets being fired. The men are fighting as hard as they can to keep the tide of monsters back; they are spread thin without enough firepower, but still, they fight on, not giving up.

  Neither do Mike and Alan; they are up virtually as soon as the explosion has subsided, guns at the ready but the flow from under the flyover is now constant. Most of the targets are spreading out into the city, beyond Paddington Green Police Station that is now completely ablaze, the heat from it strong on their faces.

  A large group is once again at the wall, climbing up, and the two men concentrate their fire on them as before, to try to keep them at bay. But they can’t stop them for much longer.

  “I’m going to see what is happening on the other side, to see if we can get reinforcements. Can you hold them off here for a minute?” Alan shouts.

  “Yes, mate, be quick and give me your grenades!”

  Alan hands over his last two grenades and then runs across the road trying to find his NCO. The scene spread out before him as he reaches the other side is total carnage. The Edgware Road is a battlefield, hostiles are everywhere, fires too, and the battle is being lost; that much is obvious.

  Alan’s fellow troops are firing in all directions. This seems to be having little effect, though. There is a concentration at the same point on this side of the road where the wall leads up, the same as on the opposite side where Mike is now by himself. Alan quickly looks down over the side of the flyover. A far larger mass of hostiles is trying to climb, and his comrades are only just keeping them back.

  Deciding that there’s not a chance of any reinforcements being spared from here, besides which his NCO is nowhere to be seen, Alan decides on another course of action. He runs to the back of the nearest supply truck. Empty wooden and plastic boxes and crates lie scattered, discarded on the tarmac around the back of the truck. He looks inside.

  The back of the truck is virtually empty, but he spots a few open crates that may still have some contents left. Alan climbs in to see what, if anything, he can scavenge that might help in their fight with the creatures trying to climb their wall.

  The pickings are slim, however, but he grabs what he can, five or so magazine clips and four grenades are better than nothing but not enough, not by a long chalk. Jumping out of the back of the truck, he quickly re-joins Mike who is leaning over the side of the flyover, still shooting small bursts of fire down at the wall.

  “How’s it looking, have you got them all?” Alan shouts.

  “Funny fucker! Where are the reinforcements?”

  “Looks like it’s just you and me at this party, mate. The party over there is getting way out of hand.”

  “Out of hand? Are you taking the bleeding piss? What the fuck do you think is happening here, just a few mates over for a drink? Alan, tell me you have something?”

  “You know me, mate, I never come to a party empty-handed.”

  Alan puts the supplies he managed to get on the ground in between them, but neither is impressed by his stash.

  “Well, that will keep the party going for about another fifteen minutes, mate if we are lucky. Then what we supposed to do, politely ask them to leave?” Mike half-jokes.

  “God knows, mate; hopefully, one of the brass is about to make some kind of decision and get us out of here, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Again, the two men concentrate on keeping the hostiles from climbing the wall, trying to conserve as much as possible of what little firepower they do have left.

  Alan is sure he hears a screech over all the other noise and checks over his left shoulder, to see how the battle is going on the opposite side of the road. He is just in time to see a hostile jumping onto the road, the thing immediately shot to pieces by a nearby soldier. But it’s all too apparent they are breaking through. Another flies through the air and lands on top of the same soldier, knocking him off his feet and into the middle of the road. The creature immediately jumps again onto the sprawling soldier, knocking him back down as it bites into his neck. Alan swiftly lifts his rifle, aims and shoots the creature through the side of its head, blood being ejected all over the road. The creature falls limp.

  Before Alan has time to take in what is happening, more hostiles land onto the flyover. Fuck, this is not good. They have definitely not held the wall that side.

  Without tur
ning, he shouts. “They have broken through on the other side, mate, we can’t hold here. Gotta fall back, mate!”

  “These bastards are nearly to the top here, let’s move!” Mike shouts back.

  The creatures are now coming over and onto the road in numbers and are overrunning the men on that side; as soon as one is killed, there are others to take its place, and the soldiers stand no chance. The creatures target each soldier en masse, jumping onto them and ripping them to shreds, spine-chilling screams all around.

  “That truck, quick!” Alan shouts, pointing at the same truck he got the supplies from.

  Both men are up and running just as the first hostile makes it up the wall and onto the road on their side, the two men ignoring it in a desperate attempt to get to the truck. Alan makes it first and opens the door. He jumps into the cab in one swift motion, immediately moving across the cab and into the driver’s seat. Mike is in straight after him and slams the door behind him, just as a creature whacks into the closed door.

  Some luck, at last, as the keys are still in the ignition. Alan immediately starts the engine, puts the truck into reverse and accelerates back.

  “This is gonna get bumpy, mate,” Alan shouts.

  “No shit, my friend; just get us out of here.”

  Hostiles are now all over the road, so Alan reverses as quickly as possible, his head darting from side to side, looking into the two wing mirrors. He swerves in and out as they race backwards to avoid other vehicles. Thuds and bumps sound from the back of the truck as they drive backwards into and over these things behind them. They can only hope none of them are their comrades, still alive and now being crushed.

  In front of them, one creature runs and jumps at the cab of the truck but before it lands, Mike opens up with a short burst from his automatic rifle. The sound is deafening in the confines of the cab, the bullets piercing through the windscreen leaving small holes but not shattering it. They hit their target and the creature goes down in front of them.

  They reverse away from the carnage, away from all their doomed comrades, and the flyover is lost. Both men sit quietly, sickened by their own loss and not that of the flyover.

  Chapter 10

  The gate to Orion must be cleared before we can drive through it and there is only one option that comes to mind. It is dangerously risky but it’s a risk we are going to have to take.

  Putting the car into drive, it starts to roll quietly around the corner and onto North Wharf Road, rolling forward, heading straight towards the siege in front. The car moves out of the bright sun and through into the smoke haze that is getting thicker by the minute, not drawing any attention to itself, the smoke helping to mask the car as it approaches the gate.

  “Keep down, you two, it’s going to get bad again.”

  As the car draws closer to the gate of the Orion Building, it gently picks up speed. No attention seems to be given to us approaching, yet! The Rabids, now nine or ten deep at the gate, are too busy trying to get at whatever is attracting them in the building compound, which I am hoping is Dan or someone else holding out, waiting for us to arrive.

  We are now around seventy-five metres from the gate and it is now time to draw some attention. As I accelerate, the engine roars, and as soon as it does, the heads of the Rabids closest to us turn in our direction, their mouths opening wide, their teeth at the ready.

  The car is now at forty-five miles an hour, ramming speed. We don’t want to be going so fast that I don’t have control of the car when we hit these things. I need to be able to react and if we are too fast, there won’t be time.

  I sound the car horn in two short bursts to alert Dan—or whoever is waiting—

  that we are here and to get the gate open. Please let someone be there. I mount the pavement so the car is running in line with the wall as close as I dare, and more importantly, in line with the gate.

  As the car ploughs into the mass of bodies outside the gate, I am almost sure that the faces of the creatures that do see us coming only look more evil and threatening as the car hits them.

  Some of the bodies fly up into the air, but I don’t see where they land. Some are dragged under the car but the four-wheel drive carries us up and over them with ease, crushing more between the car and the gate. The move mangles them and rips them to pieces between the railings. Through my window, even at this speed, I see a female Rabid have her head split in two as my window half pushes her head through the railing before the skull splits, leaving blood, brains and hair on my glass.

  As we pass the gate, I wait for approximately ten metres and drift slightly away to the left, then I turn sharp left and apply a bit of handbrake, making the back of the car whip around. The rear quarter of the vehicle slams into more bodies, sending them flying away from the gate. As the car is turning through its 180 degrees, I find myself praying that when the gate comes back into view, I will see it opening.

  There are still Rabids all around us as we turn, but to my relief, the first thing I see as we near completion of the turn is that the gate is starting to open. The path to the gate is still blocked but a lot clearer than I could have hoped for. Whilst the gate is opening, I decide to take another run to clear the path some more.

  “Girls, we are nearly there so keep your heads down a little longer,” I find myself half shouting at them again. “We are okay,” I add quickly, in reassurance.

  This time, I drive directly at the gate, mowing down anything I can on the way, then at the last second, turn the car sharply right and back away; the gate now has an opening of about half the car’s width.

  Just as we start turning right, the driver’s side window implodes, the safety glass showering me. A Rabid’s head snarls at me, and it lunges farther into the car, its teeth gnashing, trying to take a bite out of my arm. Half of its face is ripped off, dark red blood seeping out, with glass embedded into its skull where its skin used to be. It must have hit the glass with terrific force to smash it like that, but this thing still isn’t even dazed.

  Before it can lunge again at me, I bring my elbow up with as much strength and speed as possible, smashing it into the Rabid’s jaw. I feel its mandible shatter through my elbow and its head shoots up, crashing into the top of the window frame. Its gnashing stops and it falls away, out of the car. Hysterical screams come as no surprise from the back of the car, from both girls.

  “Keep down! Keep down!” This time, I do shout at the girls, who must be petrified, but at the same time I’m shouting, I'm pulling my Sig out of its holster.

  With my left hand, I keep the car turning right in a circle, while my right hand is pointing the gun out of the broken window and I am shooting, as more of these fucking things are launching themselves at us. I soon learn that head shots are the only ones that stop these monsters, and when you hit them in the head, they virtually explode, like shooting a watermelon, sending brains and blood splattering everywhere.

  All this commotion I can see is attracting more of the creatures to head in this direction, masses of them. As the car completes its circle, the gate is still opening; fuck me, it’s slow, but I am going for it and accelerate, hoping the gap will be wide enough.

  We drive into and over yet more bodies as the car rushes towards the slowly opening gate. Rabids are going through the gap as we near it, and most are immediately shot, either by Dan or one of his team and there are more thuds around the sides of the car as more of the Rabids hit it trying to get into us. Some are against the windows but thankfully, the windows don’t shatter, for now.

  The gap doesn’t look wide enough for the Discovery but it’s too late; I am committed.

  We scrape down the wall on the left side of the car and the wing mirror is ripped off, whilst the right side hits the gate hard with a massive crash that reverberates along the whole length of the gate and back. The car slows suddenly with the resistance. Straining my seatbelt, I push my foot down hard on the accelerator and with loud scraping and mashing sounds, the car manages to break through.
<
br />   “We are in, girls, but keep down until I say.”

  “Okay, Andy, yes,” Stacey says.

  Emily tries to say something, but it’s mumbled and I can’t make it out.

  Immediately, I see Dan near the gatehouse to my right, kneeling on one knee and aiming his handgun in our direction. As soon as we break through, he shouts to his left, “Close it!”

  I see the gate jolt for a couple of seconds, but it doesn’t move, the car hitting it must have damaged it. We need that gate closed and quickly, then thankfully it does start to move, closing as slowly as it opened. I make a mental note to take it up with the gate company about the speed of the gate as soon as I get to the office.….

  I stop the car so that the back is blocking the gap we’ve just driven through as much as possible, and I shout to Dan through my smashed window.

  “Get your team and get in the car, on the double.”

  “Yes, Boss, good idea,” he shouts back sarcastically.

  “Emily, quickly! Move over and sit on Stacey’s lap.”

  Stacey thinking quickly, swiftly reaches over to help Emily unbuckle her seatbelt so she can climb over onto her lap. I lean down and get my backpack and put it on over my left shoulder ready for our exit from the car. I don’t know how many men are with Dan, but I would guess at least two others, one in the gatehouse and one covering to the left.

  There is a massive bang on the boot of the car now; they are trying to get in again. Move it, lads, I desperately think. Another bang hits, this one on the roof. Shit! One is on the roof! Shots are fired from my left and as I look to see who fired them, a body falls down past the back left window.

  The shooter, a muscled six-footer dressed in all black, including black wraparound sunglasses, is not one of our men that I recognise, but nevertheless, I quickly lean over, pull the handle and open the passenger door ready for his entry. He runs over and jumps into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.

 

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