She said nothing to him, her angry stare was enough to make him aware it was time to leave. The experienced general didn’t like being subservient to little more than a low rent MP, promoted through survival rather than skill, but he respected the chain of command. He finished his drink and let himself out.
Chapter 21
A month had passed and Peter had stretched his supplies as far as he could. He had lost as much weight as many of the creatures that stared at him with their lustful eyes. Peter had built up his sleeping quarters, scavenging bedding, clothes and even books. The world might have been over, but he didn’t want boredom to claim his life. He sat out on the grass in front of the main building, pistol holstered and rifle within reach as he read. It was how he had been spending the good days. The creatures on the outside had grown in numbers, but not in threat. Peter was relaxed. He wasn’t going back out the front door. In a week’s time he may have to accept a last meal of a bullet, just like the major had.
He’d start and finish the day doing a circuit of the grounds, a slow walk checking that nothing had changed. That morning, for just a second, he thought he’d heard something, an engine. He even thought he had seen a plane way off on the horizon. He had forced it out of his mind. It wasn’t a plane; it was a bird. It wasn’t an engine; it was a group of the dead, groaning in near unison.
As he sat there, again a noise caught his attention. He placed his book down and climbed to his feet, looking beyond the fences. This wasn’t a bird. This wasn’t a group of feeders. It was a fucking helicopter. He could see it clearly as it approached, coming directly to Wellworth, to him. Like an idiot he started jumping around waving his arms.
No doubt the crew of the Chinook didn’t see him, it wouldn’t have mattered if they had, they had their orders. The cargo doors opened as it moved into position above the compound.
Peter shielded his eyes as he tried to watch, but the dust flying around from the downdraft made it impossible. He was being rescued. In minutes they would have landed and be whisking him off to safety.
But they weren’t landing, that wasn’t their mission. The crew in the aircraft’s rear started moving into position. These men were clean shaven in military fatigues, their rifles strapped to their backs. Two pallets were left in the hold, a number of crates were bundled together on each pallet, secured and ready. The men didn’t talk; they had done this several times over the last few days. They wheeled the crate to the doors and waited for their signal. Another soldier emerged from the cockpit and gave the thumbs up. With one good push, the pallet was out of the cargo door.
Peter didn’t see it as it crashed to the ground twenty feet away. He fell to the ground and crawled away. Looking back just as the helicopter gained altitude and drift away.
“No!” Peter pleaded, why didn’t they land and rescue him?
Within seconds it was picking up speed and moving away until he could barely see it. The bastards. Peter got back to his feet. It was cruel; he had become used to his life at Wellworth; he didn’t need the hope. He looked over at what they had dumped out of the back of the helicopter, and suddenly he forgave them.
The pallet had spilled its load, several boxes and a crate spreading their contents across the grass. Food and ammunition. Enough to last him months, maybe even a year. He ran over and tore open one of the field ration packs; he pulled out the packets of food and found it. A Yorkie chocolate bar. It was out of its wrapper and a piece of chocolate in his mouth within seconds. It felt so good. The temptation was to gorge himself on this new bounty, but he wouldn’t. His inner nerd took over. It looked like a lot of food, a lot of ammunition and extra equipment, but he had to plan.
Peter finished the chocolate and started separating his supplies into piles until he had one large of food, one medium of ammunition and a tiny pile of anything else. He was delighted with what was before him. Over one hundred twenty-four-hour ration packs, he knew he could make them last twice as long. The ammunition was mainly 5.56mm, as written on the side of his rifle, 9mm as on his pistol and 7.62mm that didn’t appear compatible with anything he had. A box of 40mm grenades were equally useless but the hand grenades he could use, although the prospect scared him nearly as much as the teeth on the other side of the fence.
He started moving his new found wealth inside the building; it was heavy and would take most of the day, but he could reward himself with a meal larger than his shrunken belly could handle.
Chapter 22
It was less of a farm, more of a small village now. When Amy had arrived with the others, they were looking to stay a few nights before moving on. That was more than a month ago. Since then, more survivors had turned up looking for a haven, tents and camper vans put to good use. The original older group had been supplemented with younger, able-bodied men and woman. There were even children running and playing in the relative safety of the new walls and fences. Unlike the rescue camps, there was no fear of the authorities here. People shared the limited resources and were eager to contribute rather than just take. Any troublemakers were brought into line or invited to leave.
Bo had made a bench in the garden his own spot, he had spent many hours sitting there watching. Watching people, the boundary, the surrounding fields and even the skies. His small shotgun rarely left his grip. Babs would spend time with him, but he often remained unusually quiet. Bo was a strong man, but he was becoming tired. Every extra person arriving at the farm added to his burden. He saw every smiling human face as his personal responsibility, even if his responsibilities had lessened. Babs was worried, but she knew her husband. She knew he couldn’t be consoled and his bubbly personality was showing itself less and less each day.
“Bo, I think you should have a rest, you’ve been up longer than the sun,” she nearly whispered, afraid of upsetting him.
“Don’t be daft, I’ve been sitting all day, these fellas are doing the work, I’m just an old man sitting on a bench in a garden. It’s just like the retirement we’d always promised ourselves,” Bo countered. He didn’t so much as look at Babs, but she found hearing his voice a relief. It was as many words as he had spoken to her in nearly a week.
“Cuppa?”
Bo nodded, and Babs made her way to the farmhouse. He continued to observe. He knew all the faces, even if the names were more often than not a blur. The farm continued to evolve, and he had stepped back from the early days. The last month seemed like a year. Amy had been relying less upon him and more on the younger community members. Bo understood, but it didn’t stop it bothering him. He almost hoped a feeder would approach the farm so he could show the youngsters he was still capable. He caught sight of Amy as she headed off with Jack. Bo knew Jack’s name. He was hardworking, brave, smart, handsome, and useful. Bo hated him. His youth and his importance in the camp contrasted harshly against his own age and place in the community. In a world that had gone to shit, Bo was sulking like a toddler.
Amy and Jack had grown close, their relationship had become physical in the last week but they were still uncomfortable with the prospect of their relationship becoming public despite spending nights together. Amy was the leader of the group. She saw a personal relationship as a weakness, but she was still a person in a lonely world and Jack was a good man. The attraction had been instant; they had done well to keep it professional for so long.
“Are you okay?” Jack was nervous, he didn’t want to upset Amy. She was the one bright spot at the end of the world.
“Let’s do the loop, then we’ll find a spot,” she replied. The loop had become the regular patrol, it could take an hour, but it gave the community a sense of protection, even if its utility was highly questionable. Since Amy and Jack had hooked up, the patrol gave them an opportunity to be together far from prying eyes.
“We don’t have to have sex, we can just talk. If you like,” Jack said. He hoped that she wanted to do more than just talk, but things were moving fast and he didn’t want to be seen as taking advantage. He needn’t have worried.
“Jack, I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you it’s okay, I want to fuck you too. You’re not making me doing anything I don’t want to do, you couldn’t,” she said and smiled.
“Couldn’t?” he asked. It sounded like a challenge to Jack.
Without warning, Amy swept his legs, rolled with him to the ground, and brought herself on top of him, a knife to his throat.
“I can kick your ass all day,” Amy boasted. She was confident, but she was right. They both smiled and Amy rubbed herself against him before a quick kiss and then she jumped to her feet. “Let’s keep moving.”
Jack slowly got to his feet. The takedown, whilst playful, was also effective. Amy carried on ahead as she slid her knife back into its sheath. She missed carrying the rifle, but it now remained firmly at the farm. It was too valuable to lose, too powerful not to be protecting the camp. The firearm count had risen to slightly, with a few shotguns, bolt action rifles, and service rifle. Each too important to the farms’ security to risk losing. But that didn’t mean Amy and Jack were defenceless. Each carried a knife and another weapon, Amy favoured a machete and Jack a mallet. They were all weapons of defence. If a group attacked them, their best bet would be to run. The big bastards were slow, the regular ones were easily outrun too. The creatures could perform a light jog and they could jump onto their victims if they got into range, but they had no speed. The thinkers, like Natasha, were a different proposition, but Amy had seen none since that bitch. No other survivors at the farm had seen one and weren’t entirely sure Amy hadn’t made an error. They trusted her enough to know she wasn’t lying, but she couldn’t be right, she must have been mistaken. When she wasn’t in earshot, they speculated her path had crossed with a psycho, someone so scarred by the dead walking the earth and attacking people, that they joined them. The survivors had all seen enough of the feeders to know that of the many things they were, intelligent wasn’t one of them.
The pair reached a small road, the wall and fence that lined it were sufficiently high to stop most threats from wandering into their fields. They followed the boundary on their side of the road towards the far corner. It was the furthest point from the farm and sheltered from view by a dip, anyone nosey enough to care what they were getting up to would have to be within metres to know for sure. Both stopped and looked around, listened for a groan or rustle that might signify they weren’t alone. Nothing. They were clear. Amy was already removing her top as they walked down the gentle slope to the spot.
Amy kissed Jack as she unbuckled his belt and forced his trousers to his ankles. She pushed her hand down the front of his boxer shorts and gently began rubbing his penis. Jack tried to reciprocate, but Amy pushed his hand away before pushing him down to the floor. His erection was growing and Amy moved down his body and teased him, a gentle kiss on the end of his dick before placing it in her mouth and withdrawing it before making a solid contact. He was ready and Amy finally obliged, stroking his cock and sucking it for a few seconds before taking off her own trousers and lying next to Jack, legs spread open. Jack rolled on top of her and entered her.
“No, not yet. Kiss me,” she commanded. Amy knew what she wanted, and she was very much in charge. Jack kissed her on the lips and Amy pushed him back. “No, kiss me,” Amy whispered. She pushed him down her body and finally Jack got the message. She closed her eyes as Jack went to work. He wasn’t the best of lovers, but he tried hard but lacked confidence. It had always surprised Amy that for a man as handsome and smart as he was, he wasn’t more outgoing. Despite the mutual attraction, she had done most of the pursuing.
As he gently carried on, Amy clenched the back of his head and encouraged him.
It had seen nothing worth chasing in days, so it just walked. Its instinct drove it to wander for a chance to find something. This one wasn’t fat or thin, it was toned. Skin didn’t hang off bones or wasn’t stretched to bursting by an enormous frame growing beyond what the body could cope with. It was barely dressed, a pair of tattered trousers were held up by a belt on its tightest notch, a blood-stained oversized t-shirt was torn wide open and loose. No shoes, the remnants of a pair of socks clung to the ankle even if the grey feet were no longer covered. Underneath the shirt a six-pack was clear, the forearms flexed impressively and beneath the trousers powerful legs were evident.
Amy was close. She moved Jack back onto the ground and climbed on top of him. Slowly at first, she rode him, building up speed then slowing down again. Jack was loving every minute of this, and Amy controlled him.
The feeder stopped. It could hear or smell something. It wasn’t sure, but it tried to track it down.
Amy was really going for it. She came but didn’t stop, Jack was close she knew he’d be done in seconds.
The sound of a grunt, heavy breathing. It knew food was close. The road didn’t offer great visibility, but its ears and nose were primed for any signal of a feed. It looked around then locked on; the noise was coming from the other side of a wall a little over one-hundred metres down the road at a junction. The wall was five feet tall, but that wouldn’t matter to this thing. It began walking, then broke into a jog, then a full-on sprint.
Jack grabbed Amy’s breasts as he came and she slowed down her pace, both out of breath and satisfied.
“I think I love you,” Jack confessed. Maybe he meant it, but Amy learned long ago most men will tell you they love you seconds after they fucked you, it’s when you ask them to pick up your dry-cleaning you know if it’s true or not.
“We should finish the loop and get back, ” was all she said. Amy slipped her top back on as she made her way to the wall before squatting and peeing, Jack looked away.
It didn’t hesitate as it strode forward and leapt into the air, clearing the five-foot wall with ease, but the landing was less impressive. It slammed into the ground with a crunch and rolled to a stop. Amy slowly rose to her feet, urine dripping down her leg, her trousers, and weapons next to Jack who was trying to get his trousers past his ankles. The creature turned and snarled at Jack, who reached for his mallet as it leapt at him, swinging the large metal hammer he connected with its jaw. The lower jaw smashed to one side, barely hanging on, its teeth gone, a disgusting grey tongue left flapping in the large open chasm flicking angrily at its prey. It didn’t slow down. Now on its feet between Jack and Amy, it switched its target to her. It sprinted at Amy. She dived to the side as it smashed straight into the stone wall behind. As it tried to get itself back to its feet Amy dashed back to Jack and scrambled for a weapon.
“Get behind me.” Amy said, putting one foot in front of Jack, but he stepped beside her, eager to be her equal. Both were still half-dressed, but now armed, Jack’s gore covered mallet and Amy held her machete.
It charged again, unsure who to lash out at first, instead, clawing in both their directions. It received a second blow to the face with the mallet caving in an eye socket and a slash across its neck with the machete releasing its thick grey blood. Confusion replaced its anger. It had never been attacked before. This wasn’t its natural order. Its vision impaired, it began sniffing to make up the loss in sight; it stumbled forward, its speed had slowed, now little faster than a regular feeder. Its threat was greatly diminished and Jack brought down the mallet a final time on its skull. A loud crunch and it was over.
Jack and Amy looked at each other and the creature.
“Is that one of the thinkers?” Jack enquired, still unsure of what had just happened.
“Fuck no, that’s something different. It looked similar to other feeders, but that wall, its speed. I’ve never seen one like that before. Look at it, it’s pure muscle, its legs are like tree trunks,” she explained. Amy gave it a gentle kick, and it barely moved. “It might be a one-off, a freak. Maybe Natasha was unique too,” she added. Amy didn’t believe it, thoughts turned over in her mind about how many types were out there and how vulnerable they still were.
“We should get dressed, toss that thing back over the wall and head back
,” he said. Jack wasn’t eager to hang around and quickly finished getting his clothes back on.
“Don’t tell anyone about this, please,” she begged. Amy was getting dressed but constantly looking around, unsure that the threat was over. “People are just starting to think they understand the world, I’m not sure they will understand this.”
“We need to prepare, there might be more,” Jack replied. He hadn’t survived to this point by taking his chances. He tried to stack the odds in his favour and being prepared did that.
“Our defences will not get better, we won’t have more guns or bullets, we can’t triple the height of our walls just because these things may exist,” she said. Now dressed, Amy continued to exam the feeder.
“We should at least tell Bo and some of the others,” he suggested. Jack positioned himself at the creature’s head and gave Amy a nod, prompting her to hold its legs as he took its arms.
“Careful,” she cautioned. Amy didn’t need to tell Jack, neither relished touching it, but better that than leaving it where it was. “I’ll deal with the others when we get back,” Amy said. The feeder was heavy, but they hoisted it over the wall. The thud confirmed it hit the floor on the other side. They took a moment to check themselves and their weapons, wiping the grey blood off onto the grass, and continued with a little more speed, a bit more wariness. The world had found a way to become even more dangerous and unpredictable.
*
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding?” Bo exclaimed. he was sat at his bench, watching over the farm. Amy sat beside him, with Jack standing a few feet in front of them.
“Bo, this thing was different. Its muscle mass was amazing. It cleared the wall as if it wasn’t there.”
“It was a real tough bastard too,” Jack felt the need to chip in.
Deadweight | Book 2 | The Last Bite Page 8