He changed magazines and looked around, then smashed his fist against the front windscreen and screamed in frustration.
The rear vehicle of their convoy, a lorry, was stuck, jammed against a wall with its rear wheels raised off the ground by a built-up morass of crushed and mangled bodies. It was engulfed by zombies trying to reach the two soldiers inside. The other vehicles were similarly surrounded. Fortunately, every vehicle they had taken from the base at Cheltenham had upgraded protection built into them, so as long as the men stayed inside their vehicle, they would be protected by the armoured glass and reinforced sides and doors.
The higher level of the lorries and the armoured car still allowed the men to fire down on the zombies, but the men in the lower slung Land Rovers had to endure being trapped with the zombies pressing right up to the windows, enveloping them under a mass of flesh as they climbed up and onto the bonnets and roofs
Stuck for over half an hour, they were now just firing occasionally at the zombies surrounding them. Not with any hope of being able to rid themselves of them, but out of a sense of frustration, of at least doing something rather than sitting there helplessly watching the milling undead.
“When is something just going to go right for us? Come on, please, give us one break, I beg you.”
He had hoped that after their first desperate days their situation would improve. First of all, they’d found themselves battling through the streets of Cheltenham until forced to shelter in a house for days until the horde moved on, enabling them to get back to their base.
No one was left alive at the base and with no command contactable to get further orders, they had chosen to try and reach their families based at a barracks near Exeter.
Taking what they wanted from the vehicle pool and loading them with everything they could take from the armoury, they formed a convoy and headed south.
Hopes were raised when they met the group led by a few Marine Sergeants, heading north in a ragtag convoy of heavily adapted civilian and farm vehicles. If they had survived, then their families might still be alive.
Only to have those hopes smashed when they reached the barracks.
The family housing area had no real fences to keep out the hordes from the nearby city and was completely overrun. He lost more men as they, overcome by the desperate need to reach their families and blind to the dangers they faced, left the relative safety of the vehicles and tried to find their loved ones.
He had watched, horrified, as more of his command fell to the masses as they futilely tried to fight their way through, screaming the names of their wives and children until the screams changed to screeches of agony and failure.
It took every ounce of his strength of personality and persuasive skills to hold the remnants of his unit together. To make them stay in the vehicles and not leave, as they wanted to do. They slowly drove through the housing estate, the power of the armoured vehicle crushing everything in its path. But they found no one alive.
One soldier could not take the sight of his wife and daughter, both bearing terrible wounds, feeding on the remains of what had once been his friend and neighbour in the front garden of what had been their home. Before anyone could stop him, he lifted his pistol and blew his brains all over the rear of the armoured vehicle.
He kept a wary eye on his men from then on.
Barrels glowed red hot from continuous firing as they drove slowly round and round the estate, blaring their horns and using the PA system on the armoured car, pleading to anyone who might still be alive to signal any way they could that they still lived.
Every few hundred yards they stopped, turned off their engines and in the relative quiet, a quiet only disturbed by the raspy growls and groans of the zombies following their route like the Pied Piper leading the rats from Hamlin, they listened. Straining their ears, they fruitlessly tried to identify shouting or banging coming from anyone who could hear them but could not leave their hiding place.
Realisation eventually came to them all. Their families and friends had not survived. Some may have escaped, but to where? They’d spent hours searching and hadn’t found anyone alive.
The hard and bitter truth was that they were too late. They’d arrived in hope but had only found death. If any had managed to escape, finding them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, because they could be anywhere.
Captain Hammond was at a loss what to do next. He had led his men south to reunite them with their families, but that was not going to happen now. He felt useless, berating himself for not being able to fulfil their goal. Blaming himself for the needless deaths of more of his men when he lost control of them and they left the vehicles to search for their families.
His career in the military had been, until now, going to plan. Performing well in his various postings, he was confident promotion and advancement would only be a matter of time. The zombie outbreak had been his first fighting command and he had failed completely, unable to save most of his men and reduced to the rank of spectator as he watched them being ripped apart.
Why hadn’t he thought ahead about what his men might do when they reached the base? He should have known how they might react and planned a way to keep them in the vehicles.
He could have prevented another death when the poor soldier unable to cope with the knowledge that he hadn’t been there to protect his family had taken his own life.
The enormity of his failings hit him like a brick wall. He wasn’t fit to be in command, he didn’t deserve to even live when so many of the men he was supposed to lead had died.
Slumping back in his seat, he stared at the chaos surrounding them. Pulling his sidearm from its holster, he stared at it for long seconds, tears of shame filling his eyes.
His sergeant, who was driving the vehicle glanced over at him. Noticing the pistol in his hand and the tears that were falling onto it as he stared at it.
Stamping on the brakes, the vehicle juddered to a halt.
With a shout of, “Don’t you fucking dare, Sir!” he reached over and grabbed the gun from his hands.
Dazed, the Captain turned to look at him.
“I’m sorry Sarge, I’ve failed all of you. I am not fit to command anyone.”
“The hell you aren’t, Sir. If it wasn’t for you, we would all have been dead long ago. Why do you think we are the only ones to have made it? Because of you, that’s why. You got us out of Cheltenham. You kept us together. Every time it mattered, you made the right decision. You led, us SIR! Don’t quit on us now. The lads need you more than ever now. Goddammit, I need you. Without you we won’t stand a chance.”
Captain Hammond stared long and hard at his Sergeant, digesting what he had said. The following zombies had caught up with them by now and the vehicle rocked slightly as they pressed up against its sides, hands just able to reach the window, clawing at the armoured glass windows.
“Sorry, Sarge. You’re right. It just caught up with me there. I won’t let it happen again. And as for you needing me. Bloody hell, man, you have far more active service under your belt than me, it’s you we should really be taking orders from, not some bloody upstart Rupert like me.”
The Sergeant laughed.
“That’s more like it, Sir. We all know that’s not how it works in the Queen’s Army. My job is to offer suggestions to my superior officer and stop the young gentleman in question thinking he’s bloody Montgomery. As long as he occasionally listens to that advice, we should all get along fine.”
“Okay then, Sarge. What do you suggest we do now?”
“First of all, Sir. I would respectfully request we get the fuck out of here. There ain’t no one left and driving around in circles is just burning fuel and wasting ammunition. We need to find somewhere to rest up for a few days.
Then, do you remember that guy the other group told us about on the moors? Willie was his name, I think. His location sounds just the place we should head for to get our shit back together again. Everyone is dead on their feet, we can�
��t go on much longer without some proper rest. After that? Well, you’re in charge, so I’ll let you come up with something.”
Captain Hammond immediately reached for a map. He located the moors and stared at the sheet. After a few seconds, he turned to the sergeant.
“I don’t suppose you made a note of the grid reference of his farm, did you?”
“Oh no, Sir. I’m a mere Non-Com and as such rely on my superiors to read something as complicated as a map.”
He reached over and pointed to a spot on the moors.
“But if I were you, Sir, I think that’s as good a spot to head to as any.”
He grinned at the Captain, “Come to think of it, the Marine Sergeant may have shown me when we were having a chat.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. Now if you would be so kind as to radio the other vehicles that we are getting the hell out of here while I plan the route?”
The convoy started its engines and slowly followed the armoured car as it pulverised any zombie that got in its way.
All guns fell silent as the soldiers looked sadly at the housing area that had been their home for the last time. It had been home for their families and loved ones, their children had gone to the local school here. They had played in the park and drunk at the local pub. They had kissed their wives goodbye every time they were deployed, usually with tears from them as they watched their men leave, maybe never to return. Such was Army life.
But now the more dangerous posting had been to stay. They were alive where their loved ones had perished.
More than one tear was shed as they watched the estate, along with their former lives, fade into the distance.
The Captain had not left a wife or girlfriend behind, but he could guess what emotions his men must be going through. Survivor’s guilt would probably be the best way to describe it.
He talked softly through the radio, trying to reassure his men that they would survive, promising them that the deaths of their loved ones would not be in vain and would be avenged.
Unsure if his words were having the right effect, he stopped and asked his Sergeant if he should continue.
“It doesn’t matter what you say, Sir. These men need leadership now more than any time in their lives. It is you they will look to for it, not me. Just keep talking to them, tell them where we’re going and so on. Anything to keep their minds away from the rest of the crap that’s going on.”
And he did.
As the Sergeant followed the route he had shown him, the Captain kept an eye out for a place to stop. A sign for an industrial estate caught his attention, so he told the Sergeant to head towards it. Finding the whole area deserted, he cut through a padlock on the gate to what looked like a transport depot and the convoy followed the lead vehicle as it drove in. Pulling the gate closed and securing it again, he jogged to catch up with his men.
Leaving the machine guns manned, the remains of his command disembarked from the vehicles and did a complete sweep of the area to make sure no surprises lay in wait. The vehicle maintenance area was in a large steel shed with a metal sliding door, which could easily house all their vehicles and with the main door closed, it would give them a secure area further protected by a sturdy perimeter fence.
As soon as the shutter was closed, in the dim light coming through the skylights, the exhausted men turned off their engines and gathered together.
The Captain addressed his men, trying to bolster their spirits. An impossible job when taking into account what they had been through.
Rest was what they needed more than anything. Despite his own exhaustion, he knew sleep would not find him easily, so he took the kindest action he could think of for them. He ordered them to stand down completely and he would take watch.
His men individually and silently went to find a place to bed down, each lost in his own grief and heartbreak. In the advancing gloom, the Captain listened to the quiet moans, snores and occasional sobbing emanating from various places around the room. Six hours later, his Sergeant relieved him and despite his protests, forced him to get some sleep himself.
He slept for eighteen hours straight.
They stayed in the unexpected sanctuary for three days before he felt his men were ready to continue the journey. The enforced quietness and calm gave them the chance they needed to absorb and deal with their emotions. They spent their time either alone, cleaning their weapons and kit, or tinkering with and doing basic maintenance and servicing all the vehicles. Rebuilding and strengthening the bonds that would make them an effective fighting force once more.
Ensuring the gate was secure, they headed to the moors to find the man who they hoped would offer them shelter and safety in the depths of Dartmoor.
Following the planned route, they slowly felt their way towards the moors via as many backroads as possible, hoping to avoid any undead that might delay their passage. It went well until they had to cross the only main road that traversed their route. The moors could be seen rising ahead, which meant they were closing in on their destination, but it also meant there were fewer roads to choose from. Only a small number of roads crossed the moors and even though they could use sideroads for another mile or so, eventually they would have to join the main road that cut through them.
Stopping at that junction, they found it thick with zombies, all shambling along in the same direction.
With no other option, Captain Hammond gave the order to plough through them and to keep following the intended route, thinking they would soon leave them behind as they continued.
The plan came apart when they entered the village not far from the main road.
Unfortunately, the way ahead was blocked by a lorry. It must have crashed at some speed into a house alongside the road, because a good portion of the house had collapsed, blocking the way ahead.
A quick scan of the map revealed an alternative route. They just needed to turn around and backtrack a few hundred yards to join a road which should take them on another route through the village and around the blockage.
The problem was that they had attracted the unwanted attention of the zombies when crossing the main road, and they appeared as a solid wall of terror, blocking the way to their new route. The armoured car would have been able to smash through them, but that was now at the wrong end of the convoy.
The lorry bringing up the rear tried to reverse through them but the bodies all too quickly piled up underneath it, forcing it to lose control and crash into a wall, where it now lay stuck, blocking their escape route.
Shaking the pain from his hand after smashing it against the windscreen of the armoured car, he looked to his Sergeant.
“I believe this is just about the right time for you to come up with a brilliant suggestion, Sergeant.”
He waited for the heavy calibre machine gun in the rotating cupola on top of the armoured car to finish another long burst. The bullets had the power to destroy many until stopped by something more solid than flesh and bone. Each burst cut a massive swath through the undead, and depending on where it hit bodies, disintegrated or arms legs or heads flew in all directions. The relentless horde soon filled these gaps, though, and continued gathering around them in ever increasing numbers.
“Hate to say it, Captain, but I’m all out of ideas for now. But we could ask that person waving what I think is a bed sheet at us through that window over there.”
He pointed a finger over the heads of the zombies crowding around them at a building across the road. The window was closed, and the person couldn’t be seen, but a white sheet was indeed being waved up and down in it, trying to attract their attention.
Chapter Thirteen
Willie
Willie was breathing hard and sweat was pouring down his face, but he forced himself to maintain the punishing pace he’d set.
The gunfire was getting closer with every step and the last thing he wanted was to arrive too late to help. The firing had slowed, but not stopped, which to him probably meant that probably there were
either fewer people firing, or they were running low on ammunition; neither scenario much good if they were surrounded by zombies.
He only slowed the pace as he neared the village. Not out of tiredness, but as a practical move. The last thing he wanted to do was to rush into a situation he had no tactical awareness of. Now he was there, the last few hundred yards would need to be slow and cautious. Zombies were in the area and bullets were also still outgoing. Getting shot or being on the menu was not something he wanted to happen to himself for the sake of a bit of caution.
The village wasn’t large, so it didn’t take him long to creep through back gardens and climb over fences until he knew he was at the rear of a large house that faced the main road that went through it.
Finding the back door unlocked, he slowly entered, his senses on high alert, ready to face anything he found, alive or not, still occupying it. Not discovering anything, he cautiously made his way upstairs and found a room that overlooked the front.
Still mindful of incoming fire, he crawled to the window and raised his head over the sill, had a quick glance and ducked back down again.
That quick look told him all he needed to know. He had discovered a small military convoy that had become immobilised by some unlucky circumstance and now found themselves trapped by a milling crowd of thousands of the undead.
He needed to help them, but how?
Shrugging himself free from the weight of his Bergen and retrieving his water bottle, he took a drink from it as he sat with his back against a wall, got his breath back and came up with a plan.
The first thing he needed to do was to get their attention. With so many zombies out there, it was impossible for him to reach them or vice versa. Another burst of fire from the trapped soldiers made him wince. If they kept making so much noise, there was no way they would disperse. Yes, they were killing some with every bullet fired, but all it was doing was advertising their presence to any within hearing distance. And those guns were loud and could be heard from a long way off. If they kept it up, he might find himself trapped soon.
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 44