“Man, did you see that!” he whooped excitedly. “They fucking came apart!” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a second grenade. “One more and that should hold them back,” he yelled as he lobbed the next one perfectly into the middle of the throng.
Once again the damage was extensive, yet nothing seemed to stop them.
They had no concept of fear; their only instinct was to get to us. The carnage caused by the two grenades had slowed their progress a little, but they just continued on, slipping heedlessly through entrails and tripping over body parts. But still they came.
As soon as Shawn starting moving the tractor, I jumped back down into my seat and put the car into drive. Then I began to follow him again. In my mirror for as far as I could see, the horizon was filled with hundreds of zombies.
I hoped fervently that Shawn would have no problems clearing the road. As I followed the trailer steadily through the path that it had cleared, I occasionally stopped and reversed the car into the zombies just behind us. The wedge that Shawn had fixed to the rear of the car did its job and kept knocking them down, at the same time creating enough of an obstacle to slow the pack down and keep them at bay.
Eventually Shawn pushed the last car out of the way and the road ahead was clear. I grabbed the walkie-talkie thankfully. “Well done, mate. Let’s keep going for a few miles, then when you think it’s safe, we’ll stop for a breather.”
“Ok,” was all I got, as the tractor sped up and we left the scene of devastation behind us and continued down to the A38, towards Plymouth and the barracks.
Now we were fourteen.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The road ahead was reasonably clear and for a few miles we only encountered the odd abandoned car or lorry. Finally we reached the brow of a hill on the dual carriageway, where you could see for a few miles in all directions. Shawn indicated and we pulled over to the side of the road.
Shawn and Simon spent a few minutes scanning the surrounding area with their binoculars, before announcing that the area was clear. As Shawn climbed down from the tractor and Ben and I stepped out of the Volvo, we grabbed the ladder that Chet and Simon were lowering from the trailer, and held it steady so that everyone could climb down.
I gave Becky and the kids a quick hug. The three newcomers hung back from us. Seeing this, Becky beckoned them over.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Tom, Becky’s husband. You’ve met the other ones in the trailer. This is Shawn, the crazy tractor driver and Ben, my wingman, in the Volvo. How long were you in that bus?”
It turned out that they’d spent two nights in there. The three were in their late teens or early twenties and looked tired and grubby. The two lads wore their hair quite long and had the air of public school boys.
They were both wearing what looked like waiters’ uniforms and the girl was wearing a chef’s uniform complete with white clogs.
“All three of us have summer jobs at the Royal Fowey Yacht Club,” one of the boys explained. “Two days ago everything went crazy and people started attacking and biting each other when we were serving breakfast.
We locked ourselves in the kitchen with a coach driver who’d come in through the back door to escape from the ones that were loose in the town. We hid out for most of the day, not knowing what to do.
Everyone in the club was either dead and eaten or they’d turned into a monster. We knew the town was full of them, so we were too scared to leave. Eventually they found out somehow that we were in the kitchen and started to break through the door. We only just managed to escape in time and then we had to run through the town dodging them. We barely made it to Fred’s coach!”
Fred, he went on to explain, had turned out to be a very brave man and had driven them through crowds of them, bashing cars out of the way. “We were going really well until Fred shouted that the brakes had failed. Next thing we knew, we’d piled into the back of a lorry and Fred was killed. The emergency exits jammed so we couldn’t get out but it wasn’t long before those things had us surrounded so we couldn’t have got out even if we’d wanted to.
I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t come along. We can’t thank you enough.”
The other two heartily agreed and they introduced themselves. The lads were called Noah and Daniel and the girl was called Aggi. They explained that they’d got their jobs due to their parents being members of the yacht club, and apart from wages, they got free room and board at the club and unlimited sailing when they had time. They seemed like pleasant enough kids and had obviously been well brought up.
Naturally they were very thirsty and hungry after two days on the bus with nothing to eat or drink, and they eagerly took everything we had to offer.
As they ate and drank we filled them in on what we knew had happened. They all came from London and were extremely anxious about their families, but we weren’t able to offer them much reassurance, given that we thought the zombie outbreak had started there. We told them what our plans were and said that if they wanted to join us, they were welcome.
If the barracks proved to be safe we would stay there. If not, our plan was to head to Warwick Castle and avoid London. We knew that the capital would be a very dangerous place to be.
They accepted what we’d told them, but were just grateful to be safe for the moment and weren’t really up to thinking beyond the next few hours.
We were all astonished at how well the vehicles had done. They were all looking a little more battered and dented and of course, they were smeared with blood, but they were clearly still sturdy enough to last a while longer.
Maud brought out a few thermos flasks of coffee she’d made back at the farmhouse and busied herself serving up steaming cups of coffee.
She tried to offer us sandwiches, but having been battered by gruesome sights for the last hour or so, none of us felt up to eating yet, apart from the children who, thankfully, had been unable to see over the sides of the trailer as we pushed, crushed and speared our way through the cars and zombies along the way.
Shawn spread the map out and we double-checked the route we had planned. We weren’t even halfway there yet, but hopefully now that we were on the main road and had got through the huge pile-up, the rest of the journey would be less eventful.
“Marine Brown,” said Simon strolling up to him, “who the hell authorised the use of hand grenades?”
Ben snapped to attention immediately, “Improvisation and the need to live, Sir!” He paused for a moment, his lips twitching, then added, “I’ve still got some left, do you want some?”
“Absofuckinglutely, Marine. They worked brilliantly. But let’s just use them as a last resort, eh, Marine? We don’t know when we’ll be resupplied.”
Ben reached into his rucksack and laid four grenades on the ground, passing two to Simon and putting the other two in the pockets of his body armour. He then spent the next few minutes refilling his used rifle magazines and pushing them into the right pouches so that they could easily be reached.
The brief rest had worked and we were all ready to get going again. Noah, Daniel and Aggi were going to ride in the trailer, so we held the ladder while they all climbed up. I gave my family another reassuring hug before they also got back in. As Ben and I returned to the Volvo, we could hear Simon and Chet giving the newcomers instructions on how to use one of the zombie spears. That reminded me that we also needed one, so I pulled up alongside the trailer and Ben asked Simon to pass one down.
Leading the way, I kept to a steady thirty miles an hour. Shawn had said that anything over that might cause the trailer to bounce around too much, which would not be pleasant for its occupants.
We were lucky and the road was as clear as we could have hoped. Whenever we came across a zombie, staggering along the road, I slowed down and either used the plough to kill them, or Ben perfected the art of “zombie sticking”, managing consistent headshots with his spear at about ten miles an hour.
Where possible, we were
following Shawn’s ethos of killing every zombie we could, if it was safe to do so. We knew the country was full of millions of them, but we reasoned that every zombie we put down would be one less to worry about.
I had to stop myself when I found myself making a game of hitting them with the zombie plough, or congratulating Ben when he made a skilful kill with his spear.
I’d been getting carried away with the moment and it wasn’t until I saw what could only have been a mother and her daughter, both zombies, stumbling along the road, that it brought me back to my senses. They looked uncannily like Becky and Daisy, and it made my stomach churn.
Ben, who had been enjoying himself as well, noticed my change of mood and on a zombie-free stretch of road, sat down in the seat rather than standing on it.
He was a sensitive and sensible young man and immediately felt ashamed when I explained how bad I’d felt when I’d realised I was beginning to enjoy the game of killing them. We were both much more sombre when we came across the next zombies and killed them.
A lesson in humanity learnt.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As we approached the outskirts of Plymouth, I was relieved to find the road still clear. Like the other towns, smoke was curling ominously upwards from various locations in the city as fires burned out of control.
Terrible thoughts popped unbidden into my mind and I imagined having to face an impossible decision. What if you were trapped in a house or flat with your family, unable or too terrified to leave because the streets outside were teeming with zombies? What if you knew that no matter how hard you tried, you’d be unable to protect your loved ones, and they’d be attacked and killed while you tried in vain to fight your way clear? From the windows you’d be able to see the fire getting closer as it burned its inexorable way towards you.
What would you do? Stay and burn to death, or leave and be eaten alive?
Shaking off the thought, I concentrated on the road ahead as I knew we were getting to the potential choke point of the Tamar Suspension Bridge, which linked England to Cornwall. It stood alongside Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s beautiful Royal Albert Bridge, which had spanned the river for over a hundred and fifty years.
I warned Shawn via the walkie-talkie that we were approaching the bridge. Once we were over it, the barracks would only be thirty minutes away, providing the road wasn’t completely blocked.
As we drove down the hill towards the bridge, I prayed silently that the road would remain clear. Luck was still on our side. The only zombie I could see was one of the toll booth attendants who, trapped in his glass fronted booth, smashed his head repeatedly and ferociously against the glass in his desperation to get at us as we passed.
We made our way slowly across the bridge and I glanced at the impressive looking railway bridge. I found its solidity and magnificence a comfort amid all the chaos.
I wondered if a train would ever be seen on it again.
About a mile further on we pulled off the A38 and continued up the A386 towards Bickleigh. The fences and barriers along the dual carriageway must have kept the zombies from wandering on to the carriageway because the only zombies we saw as we drove through Plymouth were either still trapped in their cars or were feeding on the corpses of fellow road users beside abandoned or crashed vehicles.
As Ben warned me that we were approaching the turning for the barracks, a zombie in camouflage uniform stumbled into the road in front of us.
“Stop!” screamed Ben. “Jesus! I fucking know him! It’s Gaz, one of my mates.”
“Gaz” staggered towards us. His ripped uniform showing an arm that was more muscle and bone than flesh, evidence of how he’d been bitten and turned. He was still wearing his tactical vest and had a pistol in a holster attached to his belt. As he reached the vehicle Ben lost his nerve and started to cry. The sight of someone he was obviously close to having turned into a zombie had hit him hard.
“Do you want me to do it?” I asked him quietly as he sat, unable to tear his gaze away from his former friend, who was snarling, the spittle running down his chin and clawing ineffectually at the glass of the window.
I watched as Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, thanks,” he said, “I’ve got this.”
He stood up and raised his weapon, then quietly said, “See ya, mate,” and shot him through the head.
As the gunshot reverberated across the countryside, Simon called to us from the trailer, “Marine Brown. Relieve Marine Butler of his weapons and ammunition. It’s not doing him any good now, is it son?”
Ben, his training and discipline kicking back in, pulled himself together, shouted, “Yes, Sarge!” and climbed through the roof of the Volvo. He quickly stripped his friend of his sidearm and holster, and took all the magazines he had in his tactical vest. As he climbed onto the bonnet of the Volvo and scrambled back through the hole in the roof, Simon spoke gently to him across the gap between the vehicles. “Stay on mission, Marine. We may not like what we’re about to see, but we have to stay focused or we’ll end up like Marine Butler. If we find any more of our mates, or anybody in uniform in fact, remember that it’s not them anymore. They’d have wanted us to put an end to their misery, so don’t hesitate; just kill them. None of them deserved to have to walk around like that.”
We made our way cautiously towards the barracks. At the main gates the piles of corpses told their own story. The gates were open, but the bodies of soldiers, most torn to pieces, and covered in bite marks and injuries, were surrounded by dead zombies riddled with gunshot wounds. It was clear that the guards had been caught unawares and quickly overwhelmed, and that the ones who’d escaped had opened fire on their attackers in an attempt to save their mates.
One zombie, missing its arms and legs, was feeding greedily on the corpse of a guard, its head buried in the entrails of the unfortunate man as it chomped away.
We followed the trail of dead soldiers and bullet-riddled zombies, many still animate but left immobile by the damage the bullets had inflicted, away from the gates and further into the base and gradually the story of a desperate fight for survival unfolded before us.
In complete silence we drove further into the base. After a few hundred metres we began to see weapons lying abandoned on the ground. Most likely they’d been dropped in panic when the ammunition began to run out. Zombies attracted by the noise of our engines began to move towards us.
Each time a zombie in uniform appeared, Simon and Ben quickly and cleanly dispatched it with a well-aimed shot through the head. The barracks had been their home, and they knew most of them, so each shot was preceded by the unfortunate soldier’s name being called out in a final farewell.
Civilian zombies were ignored and we left them to follow our vehicles, as we silently let Simon and Ben perform the last duty they could for their friends and colleagues.
Ben shouted to Simon, “Isn’t that Lieutenant Smith’s wife over there?” and pointed to a female zombie walking towards us across the grass sports field.
I could see Simon waving at us to come closer, so I pulled the car right up next to the trailer. I put the vehicle in park and stood up on the seat so that we could talk.
Sadly he answered, “Yes that’s the Lieutenant’s wife. It’s no good lad, the whole base has gone. We’re well and truly fucked now. This place probably had the best defences in the south-west and they rolled right through here. Nobody was trained to deal with this shit and by the time anyone realised, it was just too late. Raising his weapon, he put a bullet through the female zombie’s brain, then he smashed his fist against the side of the trailer and let out a string of swear words.
He noticed Becky staring at him and realised that Stanley, Daisy and Eddie were listening to every word. Instantly, he looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Becky. Sorry, kids. I’ve just lost my home and I guess my mates were the closest thing to a family I had left. I’ll try and hold it back a bit more.”
Becky gave him a quick hug. “Don’t worry, Simon. They’ve learne
d a lot of choice words in the past few days! We just hope they know not to use them.” She turned to the children. “Isn’t that right, children? It’s one thing to know all these grown-up words, but it’s another thing to use them.”
They all obediently chorused with cheeky little smiles on their faces, “Yes.”
The sudden sound of a shot made us all crouch down and start searching for the source.
“Woody, is that you?” a distant voice shouted out.
Simon stood up and looked in the direction the voice had come from. A few figures could be seen standing on the flat roof of a building about one hundred metres away, waving to get our attention.
The building was surrounded by zombies. “Get over there!” Simon shouted excitedly. “I think that’s my old mate Dave on the roof.”
As Shawn was still in the cab of the tractor and hadn’t heard our conversation, I picked up the walkie-talkie and by pointing and gesticulating, identified the building the people were standing on and told him to get over to it.
Having had plenty of practice, he was now a dab hand at using the zombie plough, and he quickly cleared a way through, pushing, scraping and pulverising the zombies until one side of the building was clear. Following in his wake, I used my vehicle to destroy any of the ones he’d missed.
We now knew what our vehicles could do, so the few zombies that remained and began to collect around our vehicles didn’t worry us too much. We knew we were safe enough, and unless we were suddenly surrounded by a huge crowd of them, we were confident that the vehicles had the power to get us out of trouble.
Nevertheless, it still wasn’t pleasant having them anywhere near us.
Looking up at the building, we could now see five adults and two children looking down on us.
Simon stood in the back of the trailer with a massive grin on his face. “Fuck me! You’re obviously too ugly to eat. Is that why you’re still here?”
“Come now, Sergeant Wood,” one of the men replied. “I’m the disappointed one. I’ve been sitting up here for two days now, turning down rescue offer after rescue offer because I heard a battalion of Amazonian beauties was on its way. Imagine my disappointment when you turn up looking like a Mad Max reject. Can you move that pile of shit you’re riding in along, please. I’m sure they’ll be here soon and you’ll only put them off.”
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 16