Capital Falling | Book 4 | Sever

by Winkless, Lance

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  PRAISE FOR CAPITAL FALLING

  Draws you in

  “Fantastic book! It draws you in like a Venus fly trap and takes you on a ride. Definitely a good read!”

  Like a bar of chocolate can't put it down till finished

  "Good well thought out book, kept trying to put it down but had to keep reading, looking forward to next two books!"

  A first...

  “I don't usually choose to read this type of book. This is, in fact the first. It definitely held my attention throughout, and I liked the interaction of the main characters. I recommend this one.”

  A Great Zompoc!

  "The thrills and spills were nonstop in this latest instalment. A new twist to the tale was introduced and battles continue to rage across London! I look forward to book 4!"

  Lance Winkless was born in Sutton Coldfield, England, brought up in Plymouth, Devon and now lives in Staffordshirewith his partner and daughter.

  For more information on Lance Winkless

  and future writing see his website

  www.LanceWinkless.com

  Also By Lance Winkless

  THE Z SEASON TRILOGY

  KILL TONE

  VOODOO SUN

  CRUEL SUN

  THE CAPITAL FALLING SERIES

  CAPITAL FALLING

  CAPITAL FALLING 2 – DENIAL

  CAPITAL FALLING 3 – RESURGENCE

  CAPITAL FALLING 4 - SEVER

  Visit Amazon Author Pages

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  This book is a work of fiction, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organisations, places, incidents

  and events are coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 Lance Winkless

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced,

  transmitted in any form or by any means,

  photocopying, electronic, mechanical or

  otherwise without the express written

  permission of the copyright holder.

  Published by Lance Winkless

  www.LanceWinkless.com

  Chapter 1

  Retreat, retreat, the word repeats inside Jason’s head over and over on a loop, toying with his sanity. He had agreed with Tyrone’s suggestion to ‘retreat’ instantly when the word first fell out of his comrade’s mouth. The word had given Jason a glimmer of hope and a chance of survival, knowing there was never any dishonour in withdrawing when faced with an overwhelming enemy. Even the most determined and renowned commander is forced to retreat on occasion, aren’t they? And nobody is ever going to benefit from a brave but futile counterattack by two isolated squaddies, low on ammo and without any prospect of support.

  Jason shakes his head vigorously to try and snap himself out of the haunting trance that has taken hold of him. The visions of death and slaughter threatening to overwhelm him. His bullet entering Den’s blood-splattered forehead as his comrade began to turn into a monster on the floor of the school’s staff toilet, sitting at the forefront of Jason’s visions.

  Dislodged dust and debris fall from his helmet and the sickening cycle in his head is finally broken, even if the image of Den’s dead face will never leave him. A stinging sensation in his eyes welcomes him back to reality as acrid smoke wafts across his face, to also coat the back of his throat. Despite his discomfort, Jason manages to concentrate on his surroundings. The devastated street immediately puts his nerves on edge and his finger rushes to find the reassurance of his rifle’s trigger, the images before his eyes equally traumatic as the visions he has just exorcised.

  “Where do we retreat to?” Jason asks Tyrone, standing silently next to him. His mate’s eyes are distant and fixed on the charred black crater where the doomed Warrior armoured vehicle had stood before it was vaporised only moments ago.

  “Back the way we came?” Tyrone answers despondently, his focus gradually pulling away from the horror and onto Jason.

  “I’m not sure about that mate. I don’t think we’ll be welcomed back there. They made it crystal clear that we have to push forward no matter what. The only thing waiting for us there will be a bullet,” Jason replies.

  “They’re not gonna shoot us. We’re not deserting, we just need to regroup.”

  “Are you sure about that? We could be infected for all they know.” Jason points out.

  “What do you suggest then?” Tyrone insists.

  A chilling scream rings out from behind Jason before he has a chance to answer Tyrone. Immediately, Jason twists to turn in the direction of the blood-curdling noise, his rifle raising to aim as he drops to his knee to take up a firing position. Black smoke from the explosions and burning buildings hangs in the air distorting his view, insisting on blowing into his eyes to irritate them further.

  Where the fuck did it come from? Jason thinks as he struggles to focus on anything in his immediate vicinity. Never mind seeing into the distance where the crater sits and the obliterated houses burn. He raises his arm to eye level in the hope that his sleeve will soak up the moisture that his tear ducts are producing to allow him to see clearer.

  Jason’s dust contaminated sleeve is rough as it moves across his eyelids, smearing water over his cheeks which cool as it evaporates when his arm lowers back to grip his rifle. His vision improved marginally; he scans again in the dense smoke to find where the scream has come from.

  “There!” Tyrone announces from next to Jason, where he has taken up a covering position. His finger pointing.

  Jason’s eyes dart in the general direction of the pointing figure, but his eyes are filling with water again and his focus blurs. Blinking deliberately to try and clear his vision as his rifle points aimlessly, Jason’s heart thumps in fear and anticipation.

  “I’m not seeing it,” Jason confesses.

  “Two o’clock, a woman in a nightdress,” Tyrone tells Jason.

  Jason finally sees the movement and redoubles his efforts to bring the ghoul in a white flowing gown into focus. A chill runs down Jason’s spine as the middle-aged woman, dazed and confused, stumbles in amongst the rubble littering the street. Her bare feet bang into chunks of brick and onto splintered wood, but she seems oblivious to the pain her raw feet must be suffering. She must have climbed out of one of the devastated houses that line the street, Jason decides. Miraculously escaping from one nightmare and finding herself in another.

  Deep red blood flows from an unseen wound in the woman’s blonde matted hair, the red liquid streaks down the left side of her face to soak into the thin dirty white fabric of her nightdress. The poor woman’s mouth gapes open, perhaps to beg for help but nothing escapes from her throat, her shock having stifled any new screams. All she can do is reach out, palms up ready to welcome any assistance or help, but none is offered in time to save her.

  Shadows move behind the stricken woman, drawing closer to her through the heavy smoke. The infected beasts are beginning to rise once more, the devastating explosion only temporarily halting their compulsion to feed.
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  Jason’s finger hovers over his rifle's trigger as he takes aim at the closest shadows behind the forlorn woman. There are far too many shadows for the meagre amount of ammo in his magazine to deal with, however. He knows it would be futile to open fire and probably suicidal to engage the enemy here and now.

  “We gotta get out of here!” Tyrone insists from beside Jason. Reaffirming what they must do.

  A shadow bursts out of the smoke only feet away from the stumbling woman. The beast screeching as it launches itself into the air. More creatures appear out of the smoke to try and regain their advantage and to strike first but they are too late. The first beast hammers into the woman, knocking her sideways off her feet and she falls heavily into the road. The puff of dust that rises around her as she thumps into the ground doesn’t disguise the torrid images of the beast’s continued attack.

  A forceful tug under Jason’s armpit and the shout of “Move!” brings Jason out of his shocked paralysis and scrambling to his feet. Tyrone virtually drags Jason, still at sixes and sevens, across the road and towards the street opposite their position. Even as Jason’s feet flounder beneath him, Tyrone drags him forward. Jason’s eyes still fixate on the bloody slaughter of the doomed woman.

  “Snap out of it!” Tyrone orders as he drags Jason up the kerb and off the road, closing in on the new, quieter street ahead. Jason’s eyes widen further with fear as they lock onto numerous creatures enveloping the piece of road where the woman had fallen. The dreaded beasts continue on in his and Tyrone’s direction.

  “They’re coming!” Jason shouts.

  “I fuckin’ know mate, get your shit together or we’ll be next on the menu,” Tyrone barks.

  Tyrone’s words sink in instantly and the haze that has been clouding Jason’s mind finally lifts. I am supposed to be the squad leader, Jason tells himself, start acting like it!

  “Sorry mate, that woman made me zone out for a second there,” Jason finally responds to Tyrone, running ahead of him, boots striking the ground hard.

  “I know the feeling,” Tyrone replies over his shoulder without breaking his stride.

  “We’ve gotta find some cover and quick,” Jason says, stating the obvious.

  The chilling screech that follows them up the street feels like it is almost on top of Jason, and he takes a fearful glance over his right shoulder as he runs. His worst fears are realised as he gets a glimpse of the horde of baying creatures careering along the pavement directly at them. “Here they come,” Jason hears himself cry out, as his mind spins again, his eyes racing to find an escape.

  The tightly packed houses on each side of the road offer no possibility of an escape route and the long street seems to go on forever in front of Tyrone. Jason knows instinctively that they will be cut down as they run before they can reach any junction and the shelter it may offer. There is only one option, and that is to fight.

  “Covering fire!” Jason shouts as his legs come to a sudden stop and he spins around to face their pursuers.

  At least ten fearsome creatures are immediately behind them and Jason is immediately firing his SA80 rifle even as he lowers to one knee to steady his aim. He puts all his faith in his brother-in-arms Tyrone, that he will not abandon him and will take up the fight alongside him. Only for a millisecond does Jason think he has miscalculated and that Tyrone has carried on running, taken his chance to escape, leaving him as a sacrifice to aid his retreat.

  Bullets whizz past Jason’s head as Tyrone unleashes a burst of automatic fire into the midst of the attacking creatures. Bullet’s whack into the beasts, hitting torsos and heads, dropping some to the ground. Jason remembers their operational briefing and aims high, trying to make headshots to neutralise the beasts. Some, but not enough of his bullets do hit their targets to eject brain matter into the air, dropping the creatures to the ground.

  The beasts are almost upon them when Jason changes tack and lowers his rifle in a desperate attempt to keep the horde at bay. He sprays bullets into the legs of the oncoming creatures, aiming for their fragile shins. Bones are shattered and the squealing beasts suddenly fall into the hard tarmac below them and into a pile, only feet away from Jason’s stooped position. Evil and haunting eyes stare up at Jason. As their arms reach their clawed hands forward, the beasts still only having one overriding purpose, and that is to feed.

  Behind the pile of squirming bodies, rounding the corner, another large pack of terrifying creatures appears, far too many to fight. Whether they have been drawn into the hunt by the sound of the automatic gunshots or whether they have sensed the fresh flesh on offer, Jason doesn’t know. Right now, it is immaterial, the hunt is on once more and the two squaddies need to evacuate the area, immediately.

  Jason’s legs push him back to his feet and he turns to make a break for it, his stomach dreading seeing the long road in front of them again.

  “Run for it!” Jason shouts hysterically at Tyrone, wondering why his comrade hasn’t bolted already. Tyrone must know that every second counts, that the odds of them reaching the end of the street are wafer-thin as it is.

  “This way!” Tyrone screams, causing Jason to grind to a halt in disbelief.

  Before Jason can demand, what the fuck Tyrone is playing at, Tyrone is running at the solid-looking wooden green door of one of the houses only feet away from them.

  Jason’s head spins in anguish at the actions of Tyrone. The creatures are closing in fast and Jason doubts that even Tyrone’s hulking stature is going to make an imprint on the solid door. And what about any person who might be sheltering inside? There could be women and children inside and Tyrone is trying to break down their only defence.

  Tyrone smashes into the door with all his might, his shoulder the battering ram. He is bounced backwards straight off the heavy door, barely rattling it in its frame. A low whining sound of pain escapes from somewhere inside Tyrone as he staggers back, but he looks fiercely at the door again and prepares to charge.

  Jason's stomach drops when Tyrone staggers back again; their chance to run has gone, they are out of time. Deathly screeches are only meters away as Tyrone moves to take his third run at the door. Fuck this, Jason thinks as he raises his rifle. They are committed, and there is no escaping the oncoming zombies, not by running down the road at any rate.

  Tyrone lurches at the unforgiving door, his eyes bulging with determination. Jason fires two rounds at the polished brass lock shining on the face of the dark green door. His bullets disintegrate the brass housing of the lock, and wood splinters around it just as Tyrone’s hefty shoulder smashes once more against the green paint.

  This time, the door bursts open under Tyrone’s assault, catapulting him through the entrance. He disappears like a shot, falling forward off his feet to crash inside. Jason doesn’t pause to congratulate himself or to wonder if Tyrone has injured himself. He sees from the frantic movement in his peripheral vision that the baying horde is all but on top of him.

  Jason bolts for the doorway, terror coursing through him, expecting an attack as he reaches for the doorframe to pull himself inside. His movement only just takes him out of the grasp of the lead creature, which, committed, flies past his back. Others follow, stumbling over themselves and falling to the ground.

  Inside, Tyrone’s momentum has taken him a couple of meters into the dim hallway of the house. He is flat on his face, dazed, and trying to push himself up, his rifle across the back of his head where it landed. Jason ignores him, turns away from his fallen comrade and takes hold of the door to slam it shut as approaching shadows dim the hallway still further.

  The door, painted white on the inside of the house, bangs into its frame but there is nothing to stop it from flying open again. The brass lock is useless, only prevented from falling to the floor by a few wooden splinters that cling onto it. Jason turns again and slams his back against the door, bracing his feet against the laminated floor of the hallway. He prays that he can hold the door closed when the inevitable assault against it comes.
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  Jason’s legs strain not to buckle as the beasts crash into the door almost immediately with an almighty force. His back vibrates against the wood as the door is hit multiple times and it jerks inwards. The crashing against the door suddenly stops, but the pressure against it increases and his legs threaten to give way, his knees beginning to bend. Daylight seeps through the increasing gap between the door and its frame as the force becomes too much for him to hold back. Gritting his teeth, Jason’s thigh muscles contract and with all his strength he pushes back, desperately trying to keep the deathly creatures and their screams out. The force is too great, however. Even as he manages to straighten his legs, his feet begin to slip against the laminate flooring; he cannot hold the beasts back.

  Suddenly, a shadow moves over Jason and inexplicably, he hears the door bang back against its frame as it closes. Jason’s feet stop slipping forward and he inches them back into position as Tyrone takes some of the strain.

  “Use your rifle to jam it!” Jason cries out as he sees Tyrone’s rifle swinging beside him.

  Tyrone understands immediately, and whilst keeping his one shoulder pressing against the door, he pulls the rifle's strap over his head. Quickly pressing the muzzle of the rifle into one of the ornate cut-outs in the surface of the door, he then jams the butt of the rifle against the floor. Finally, Tyrone kicks his foot against the rifle's butt to wedge it in place.

  “I’ve got it,” Tyrone announces, “go check the back, look for an escape route!”

  “Are you sure you’ve got it?” Jason demands.