Zombie Defence

by Rick Wood

“It was always so easy on my computer game,” Donny stated.

  “Oh, yeah, you like computer games?”

  “Love ’em.”

  “What’s your favourite?”

  “Quake. Halo.”

  “Halo? Ain’t that old now?”

  Donny shrugged. “I love the retro stuff. Feels nostalgic.”

  “I used to play that before my kid came along.”

  Gus bowed his head. Why did he have to mention his daughter? He hoped Donny didn’t ask any further questions.

  “You must miss them, huh?”

  Dammit.

  “Yeah.”

  A moment of lingering silence hung between them.

  “I can’t sleep. I just keep thinking of how I screwed up. I just – I’m so sorry, Gus.”

  “Just shut up about it, yeah?”

  “But–”

  “Just–” Gus raised his hand. Donny fell silent.

  They sat in silence. After the silence had been too prolonged, Donny reluctantly went to get up.

  “I’m sorry I disturbed you, I–”

  “I envy you,” Gus interrupted.

  Donny didn’t move. Turned back.

  “You what?”

  Gus sighed.

  “When I first had to kill one of those things, when I saw it change, when I saw it go to bite someone, I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t even cough. I just did it. That’s the worst thing.”

  “Yeah, but you were ruled by instinct,” Donny said. “And you had the guts to go with what you thought was right. What you knew was right.”

  “No, it weren’t nothing like that. I just saw them, thought, them or me, and did it. First time in the army I had to kill a man, it kept me awake for a few nights, then the next one, it bugged me for ten minutes, then the next one… Didn’t even register. I went back and had my tea and slept soundly.”

  “But they were the enemy.”

  “Yeah, it’s still a life. And I hate how easy I find it to take one. And I envy how tough it is for you.”

  Donny’s head dropped.

  “I respect you for it,” Gus said, standing. “I do. I really do. But next time – pull the trigger. Living is worth a few sleepless nights.”

  Gus went to walk away, then paused, turned back to Donny.

  “Hey, kid,” Gus said.

  “Yeah?”

  Gus forced a smile.

  “You’re all right.”

  Gus meandered further into the woods on his walkabout, leaving Donny stood there, undecidedly chuffed.

  Why he was chuffed, he didn’t know.

  He hadn’t craved Gus’ respect. He had wished to have a civil conversation, but he hadn’t sat around thinking that Gus and he should be best friends.

  But, now that he had the man’s respect – he felt like it would be something he would hold onto until the day they died.

  THE TRAP

  Chapter Fifty

  Gus blocked the initial strike from Donny’s hand that held the sharp, broken shard of glass. Gus knocked it into a nearby puddle.

  It didn’t deter Donny. He didn’t need it. Gus failed to block Donny’s fist as it launched forward and planted itself through Gus’s face.

  Immediately, Gus felt his nose crack. He fell to the floor faster than he was able to comprehend. He closed his eyes, shutting out the pain.

  Donny lifted Gus by the collar once more and laid his fist right back into that face, sending Gus soaring back to the wet surface.

  It went blank for a second, but Gus kept his consciousness. His awareness was going, but that was fine, he could survive without it; it was his consciousness he needed to retain.

  Gus didn’t bother getting up. He stayed on his back. In the distance, Desert and Whizzo appeared. Whizzo had some big gun.

  Gus held his hand up, slightly, just enough for Desert and Whizzo to notice, but Donny not to register. They halted, and he locked eye contact with them and shook his head.

  This was a fight he had to do on his own.

  He knew, just as well as they did, that if they entered the fight it would be to kill Donny. Gus knew what Whizzo was holding in his hand, and he knew what it could do.

  Whatever happened, Gus would not let one of his few friends in this world die – even if that friend was pummelling him to the final inches of his life.

  Donny’s fist soared downwards once more, causing Gus’s slightly raised head to jar against the cement. Blood mixed from the back of his head, diluted by a puddle.

  His eye blinked. He could not longer open it. It had been battered shut. His other eye, he could just about lift his eyelid.

  “Donny…” he tried, but it came out in a wheeze, barely audible against the rain’s savage bombardment.

  Donny lifted his arm back once again.

  Gus winced, readying himself for impact. Would this be it? How many punches was it going to take to kill him?

  “Donny!” came a voice from across the playground. “Donny, come on!”

  Donny’s head turned, as did Gus’s; though Gus had to turn his head further to direct his one good eye.

  General Boris Hayes stood at the far exit, waving Donny onward.

  “Finish him off, we need to go!” Hayes shouted.

  Great. Just what Gus needed. Now Hayes is here to watch my best friend murder me.

  Gus had always wondered how he’d go. Honestly, for the longest time he’d been sure it would be suicide. Then, he thought it would be starvation in the compound. Now, here was his answer.

  “Let’s get on with it, we need to go!” Hayes insisted.

  Donny turned back to Gus.

  “Please…” Gus begged, forcing the croaks of his voice out.

  Another strike, another eye gone.

  He could just about open it, but it didn’t matter, everything was a vague blur. If the rain didn’t obscure his peripheral vision, his hazy mind would.

  So he kept his eyes closed. He didn’t need them.

  “You know what you once said you respected about me,” Gus began, shouting so his voice would be audible.

  He felt his collar being lifted. He didn’t bother wincing. The next strike was coming either way. He just relaxed, flopped his body.

  “You once told me that you respected me,” Gus said, “because I had the guts to do what I knew was right.”

  He felt his body dangle under the strength of Donny’s grip on his collar.

  “Because I knew who to kill and who not to.”

  He waited.

  “And I respected you for finding killing to be so tough…”

  He waited some more.

  Waited for the impact. The imminent punch.

  He waited and waited.

  It was not forthcoming.

  He was just left in limbo, held by the collar, awaiting his fate.

  “You said that…”

  He spluttered. Coughed up a bit of blood. Spat it out.

  “Living is worth a few sleepless nights.”

  He heard nothing but the rain. Felt nothing but the rain. Beating his body.

  “That killing was tough for you, and that…”

  He choked up another bubble of blood.

  “That is why I won’t hurt you. Because you – Donny – are the kind of person I envy.”

  He sniggered to himself. Tried to open his eyes, but it still hurt too much.

  “You’re the person I wish I was.”

  He stopped talking. Rested his voice.

  Waited for the final strike.

  The final curtain.

  The final full stop.

  But it never came. That curtain stayed open, the sentence left incomplete.

  The grip on his collar loosened and he fell. Hammered back down to earth.

  His clothes were drenched, but he hadn’t noticed it until now. His whole body was soaked through. A cold breeze flew in and made him shiver.

  But there was nothing else.

  He listened.

  Nothing.

  “Donny
?” he asked.

  The patters of nearby feet arrived at his side.

  He tried to open his eyes, but it was too painful. He let them stay shut.

  “Donny, is that you?”

  “No, Gus,” came Desert’s voice. “It’s us. We’re going to help you get out of here.”

  “Where is Donny?”

  A long pause ensued.

  “Where is he?”

  “He – he left, Gus,” Desert answered. “He left with Hayes.”

  Gus smiled. “Good lad.”

  “What do you mean, good lad?” Whizzo interjected. “He left with the enemy. He betrayed us, he led us here. How on earth is he a good lad?”

  “Because… because he didn’t kill me.”

  He attempted to hoist himself up, and that was when he finally allowed himself to fall unconscious.

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Once again, Gus woke from a long sleep. Like before, a mixture of physical exertion and taking a harsh beating had forced him into a vaguely comatose state. At least this time he was not restrained to a bed; nor did he have Eugene Squire’s smug face standing over him, and no stick-up-his-arse guard waiting outside the door.

  Just Desert, sat serenely in the chair next to him.

  “Where am I?” he managed, looking around his blank chambers. His eyelids were sore, but he could at least open them.

  “A black site.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s a safe house for the AGA. We had nowhere else we could go, we had to bring you here, but we can’t stay. We don’t know what they know, it might not be safe. Please gather yourself. We’ll leave as soon as we’re able.”

  Gus leant his body upward, looking around the room. It was like a tin can, some kind of bomb shelter. From the lack of windows, he assumed it was underground.

  He sat up, placing a pillow behind his back and leaning against the wall.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Weeks. You haven’t been entirely gone. You’ve dipped in and out a few times, but this is the most we’ve gotten from you since we got you here.”

  “Aw, man,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. He had a pounding headache.

  As he turned and looked at Desert, he saw a look of… annoyance, maybe. Irritation. Despondency mixed with the vacant glare of a grudge.

  Come to think of it, her voice had been steadily monotone so far, very matter-of-fact. Something was clearly irking her.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Gus asked, still readjusting to being awake.

  “What do you think is the matter with me?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  “We had him with us the whole time. He travelled from our original hideout, to the main headquarters of the AGA – hell, he probably gave away where we were heading.”

  Gus shook his head at her. Abhorrently perturbed. How dare she?

  “You think this ain’t affected me?” Gus retorted.

  “Don’t start.”

  “Donny was a friend – besides Sadie, my only friend. I’d give anything for him. Then he threw us under the bus and beat me half to death – do you really think I ain’t pissed, too?”

  “He killed Prospero!”

  “And how could I have seen that coming?”

  “You brought him to us, we didn’t bring him to you.”

  “That’s not–” Gus stopped himself. He was shouting. He lowered his voice. “That’s not here or there. You think I could have predicted this?”

  “From the way he was acting, if it was so different from the norm – yes.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Desert, we’d just spent three-odd months in a compound being tortured. Hell knows what they might have done to him in there. I thought he was bound to have a reaction, there was no way I could have predicted that.”

  “Well, you should have.”

  Gus nodded sarcastically, then returned to his headache. He could do with some paracetamol or something – but, in the apocalypse, such frivolities were rarely forthcoming.

  “So, what now?” Gus asked. “You done with us? We go our separate ways, that what it is?”

  Desert shrugged. “You’re the closest thing we have to allies now. As pissed as I am, I don’t know if I want to abandon that.”

  “Well I ain’t really much up to being no one’s last resort.”

  “It isn’t a last resort. It’s an only resort. And we’re yours.”

  Gus raised his eyebrows at her, an action of hopelessness mixed with a lack of ideas.

  “We only stand a chance of overthrowing the government if we are together,” Desert persisted.

  Gus scoffed. “We don’t stand a chance, Desert.”

  “We–”

  “Did you see Donny? See what he could do? They are building a whole army of him. What are we supposed to do about that?”

  “Then we need to stop them before they make that army.”

  “Do you think I’m not pissed? There was stuff you didn’t tell me. Like this whole super-soldier creation, this whole background to the whole outbreak – ring a bell?”

  Desert shrugged. “I guess we both have our faults.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Desert sighed. Leant forward. Placed her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

  “So you going to help us or what?” she asked.

  “Let’s make one thing clear. I only care about Donny. I’ll help you get in, get at Eugene and Hayes and all that, but once we’re there, I’m rescuing Donny. That’s it.”

  “It doesn’t look like Donny wants to be saved.”

  “He ain’t himself, all right? He will be saved. And I’ll be the one to do it. And that’s how we’ll help each other.”

  Desert took a moment to contemplate this.

  “Deal.”

  “Great.”

  Desert felt for his leg. He’d forgotten he only had one. The prosthetic still held in place, a sturdy creation.

  “So,” Desert asked, her voice with a renewed friendliness. “Do you really think we can stop them before they create that army?”

  Desert looked at him, waiting, expectant of an answer.

  He didn’t give her one.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Eugene and Hayes lifted their glasses of Eugene’s Remy Martin Louis XIII cognac and toasted their success.

  “Bloody marvellous!” Eugene declared, and drank his brandy in one go. “Absolutely bloody marvellous.”

  “I have to admit,” Hayes replied, sipping on his brandy, “I was pleasantly surprised.”

  “You mean you doubted it?” Eugene said, playfully ironic.

  “Oh, never, of course. But I did wonder. About whether we’d done the right thing sending him off and out of our sight. Whether what Doctor Saul did would stick. But it did. Oh boy, it did.”

  Eugene placed his glass on a drinks mat with the St. Georgie’s flag on that sat proudly upon his pristine wooden desk.

  “What now?” Eugene asked.

  “I’ll show you,” Hayes replied, a cheerful twinkle glinting in the corner of his eye.

  “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Eugene said, doing all he could to contain his childish excitement.

  “Come with me.”

  Hayes led Eugene out of his office and down the corridor. As they did, they saw Eugene’s transmission on the televisions in the passing offices. All televisions had been cut off for over a year, and his smug face was the first transmission to be made after all that time. Magnificent.

  “Ooh, one moment,” Eugene said, putting his hand out to Hayes. “I want to see this. How do I look?”

  “Good evening, United Kingdom,” came Eugene’s voice on the screen. “As you may be aware, almost five months ago, bombs were dropped on London. There has been a rumour that this was our allies helping us in destroying the quarantined zone where most of the infected live.”

  Eugene clapped. The best bit was coming up.

  “Foll
owing the sad state of affairs in our beloved country, it only makes me unhappier to have to give you the bad news that this rumour is unfounded. As far as we are aware, these countries believe that we are responsible for the infection, and this was their retaliation. This ruthless bombing was no more than an act of terror, intended to wound what is an already bleeding Britain. As a nation, we must stand stronger, together. We will react. Our troops are readying themselves as we speak, and our enemies should ready themselves for war.”

  It was like a new kind of masturbation. Eugene loved it. His face, announcing his glorious lie to the gullible nation. Everything he’d planned was coming to fruition. It hadn’t been easy to begin with, but here it was. Forming perfectly.

  “What do you think?” Eugene asked.

  “I think you need to see that army you’re going to retaliate with.”

  Eugene grinned.

  “Oh, Boris, you do know the way to my heart! Show me. Now, if not sooner.”

  “Right this way.”

  Hayes led Eugene further down the corridor, twisting and turning, Eugene giddy with ecstasy, awaiting his delightful surprise.

  And oh, what a delightful surprise it turned out to be.

  Hayes reached the door, stood back, and with a widening smirk, he indicated the handle with a nod.

  “After you.”

  Eugene practically danced to the door, opened it, then stood in amazement.

  Before him, they stood.

  His army.

  But not that pathetic army that ran from a flamethrower. Not the pathetic army defeated by two people. Not the pathetic army that retreated at the first sign of hardship.

  No, before him, in the grand hall, stood thousands of troops.

  Every one of them injected with the synthesis they had successfully used on Donny.

  Each one of them with the strength, speed, and capability to brush every other country aside.

  Before him was the army Eugene had always intended to create.

  And they were ready and raring to go.

  Chronicles of the Infected Book Three: Zombie World OUT NOW

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