Of the three lorries, one was deemed unrepairable given the lack of specialist tools and equipment, so that was as easy one to leave behind. That left the two lorries, two Land Rovers and the armoured vehicle to choose between.
The lorries were essential as they were fully loaded with all the weaponry, ammunition and other supplies taken from Imjen Barracks at Cheltenham. Similarly, the armoured vehicle with its powerful machine gun mounted in the rotating cupola needed to be included.
That left the two Land Rovers. They were armoured so would provide excellent protection, but because of the armour, the windows didn’t open. It was never designed to enable guns to be fired from within, and its intended use was merely as a safe patrol vehicle capable of withstanding small-arms fire. Their use in the current situation had already revealed their limitations when surrounded at the village on the edge of the moors only the day before. The soldiers trapped inside could do nothing to help themselves, apart from wait to be rescued.
Both were chosen to be left behind. If they needed more vehicles, they didn’t need to be bulletproof, just zombie-proof. Any normal car could be adapted for that purpose and would most likely be more suitable, as they’d seen with what Tom and his group had achieved.
The only unanswered question was whether there would be enough space in the reduced convoy to take not only the load from the lorry they were abandoning, but also the volume of stuff Willie would want to take.
The only way to find out was to get on with it. The twelve men set about their tasks with purpose.
Following Willie’s advice, they decided to add the proven wedges and extra protection around all the vehicles, using materials Willie had in one of his outbuildings. The high ground-clearance of all the vehicles made them vulnerable to bodies piling underneath them and either damaging something or grounding them, as had happened with the lorry at the village. Adding sturdy ‘skirts’ around them would reduce this possibility.
They split into work teams; one to unload the equipment from the disabled lorry, ready to be distributed, and another to work on the vehicles. Willie, with two of the soldiers, created another pile of all the supplies and equipment he wanted to take with him. Both piles looked impressively large. Then Willie went around the outposts he’d built around his property and brought back the supplies and ammunition he’d stashed in each of them, further adding to what needed to be squeezed in.
The willing and skilled hands completed all the work needed by mid-afternoon and they set about loading the vehicles, completing the task as dusk settled over the Moors. There wasn’t another inch of space in all the vehicles, and boxes even had to be strapped onto the roofs of the cabs of both the lorries and the tractor.
When the vehicles had been topped off with fuel from Willie’s red diesel tank, and the remainder of his tank had been emptied into a towable fuel bowser hooked up to the back of one of the lorries, they were all but ready to depart.
Travelling at night was not something anyone thought sensible, so they settled back into Willie’s farmhouse for one last night. Mucking in together to use the last of his perishable goods, they created a delicious hodgepodge which was enough to fill them to bursting and still leave food for breakfast in the morning.
Willie once again produced bottles of whisky from his seemingly inexhaustible supply. The evening mellowed as, between regular patrols, a few more bottles were added to the empties pile building up in the corner.
Captain Hammond had noticed his ham radio set up in the corner of the lounge.
“Have you tried contacting people on it?” he asked.
“Yes, laddie. When it first started, there was plenty of activity, but slowly they all went off the air one by one. I haven’t tried it for days, because the silence was too depressing.”
“Have you tried any military frequencies?”
“Of course I have,” he replied, “I regularly scanned all the usual aviation, emergency and search and rescue frequencies, but never got a squeak.”
“Do you mind if one of us has a go?”
“Of course not.”
“Corporal Side. You’re the radio bunny. Come over here and have a go, please. Willie, the problem we have with the comms we’ve got is range. We just haven’t been able to pick up anything and to be fair, just like you, we’ve stopped trying. Now, if Corporal Side here can work some magic and use some of that expensive training he’s been given, you never know.”
Willie bustled around for a few minutes, starting the generator to provide power and making sure the leads were connected correctly before handing the set over to the Corporal.
For the first half an hour, all attention was on him as he tried many and various channels, all to no avail. Slowly, the attention drifted from his efforts and the conversation around the room returned to the tall stories and daft escapades that is the stock the world over for groups of men sitting around a table having a drink.
The Corporal speaking into the handset, stopped all conversation immediately.
Captain Hammond knocked over his chair in his eagerness to get closer to the radio set.
Holding up his hand to indicate he wanted silence, the Corporal carried on talking into the handset. He twiddled with a few more dials and pressed some buttons before turning to his Captain and with huge grin of triumph on his face, said, “Sir, I have the acting Admiral of the Fleet wanting a word with you.”
The Corporal vacated the seat and the Captain sat down, donned the headphones and picked up the handset.
The men listened avidly to the conversation, and even though they couldn’t hear what was being transmitted to them, since only the Captain could hear through the headphones, the conversation was easy to follow.
Captain Hammond gave a detailed report of what they’d endured from the first moments they’d received the mobilisation orders in Cheltenham. Once he’d given his report, he spent a long time listening, occasionally confirming he understood what was being said. Eventually, he signed off and removed the headset.
Turning to see every eye was on him, he said.
“Sergeant, call in whoever is on watch. I think everyone should hear this. And can someone get me a bloody whisky, please?”
The moment everyone had gathered, he began.
“Well, gentlemen. That was an interesting conversation. Let me give you the brief version.
What is left of the Royal Navy is currently gathering in the Solent, between Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. Only ships that were at sea have survived intact. It seems that in the chaos of the first few days, any ships moored in Dockyards or which tried to land to offer assistance, were overcome by the waves of people desperately trying to escape. Unfortunately, before anyone realised what they were dealing with, many infected by bites or the virus had boarded and those ships quickly became butchers’ yards and were lost. Hard decisions were eventually made, and the remaining unaffected vessels were ordered to make for open sea, batten down the hatches and not offer any assistance to anyone, no matter the circumstance.
“A few vessels mutinied, their crews unable to accept that they couldn’t help their families. Order was eventually restored, but not before some ugly incidents and more ships being lost. Orders have gone out to any of our vessels around the world to make best speed and return home.”
He shrugged, taking another sip of his whisky.
“And that is the good news!
We are the only contact they’ve made with any land-based forces still in the field, so to speak. There are a few bases manned with people in bunkers and shelters still communicating, but they all report being unable to leave due to the zombies the other side of their blast doors. They still have access to satellite imagery and communications, but are unable to offer any more than that. Currently, they’re trying to carry out a detailed survey to identify any assets left. Early indications are it does not look good.
“All available manpower in the UK was initially dispatched in the first phases of the crisis and quickly became
overwhelmed. Aircraft took off but found themselves unable to land when their bases fell to the masses that breached their perimeters. The rest of our Airforce is mainly stuck on the ground, abandoned in bases overrun with zombies.
The long and the short of it is, we are now it. The only known combat effective ground force left in the UK until more ships arrive; they are expecting the helicopter carrier and fleet auxiliary ships to arrive over the next few days, but they can offer us no help. We are still on our own.
On a brighter note they are gathering around them a growing fleet of civilian vessels of all shapes and sizes, and are broadcasting their location over the maritime channels, hoping to attract more who made it to the safety of the sea.
Some of the smaller Channel Islands and maybe the Scilly Isles, are being discussed as future bases and safe anchorages. They are all overrun as the imagery obtained so far shows, but the low populations might make it feasible to clear the islands of the undead. A lot of the civilian boats won’t be seaworthy enough to last in the open water if a storm rises. Yes, they will be able to shelter in estuaries for the short term, but there are too many people on them to be accommodated on Royal Navy ships. Also, keeping them supplied is a logistical impossibility, even if there are enough stored supplies to go around.
“Anyway, we can’t concern ourselves with them for now. The Navy is looking after them the best they can. Our plan to head to Warwick Castle has been endorsed. They’ll try to get current images of the location if possible, but can’t promise that, because their tasking list is long and full of other priorities. If we get there and it proves to be a secure location, then I believe we can expect more.”
He raised his glass to the room, and with all his men avidly taking in every word, he said, “Gents, at first light, we head out in the knowledge that we are not alone. That some remnants of order and scraps of this country that we love have survived. I will not go as far as to say that the country is relying on you, but I will say that I am relying on you. Somehow, we will be able to rebuild something from the ashes of the terrible plague that has swept our nation and taken so much from each of us personally.”
When he sat down, his Sergeant stood and raised his glass.
“Gentlemen. For Queen and country.”
They all stood as one and raising their glasses, repeated the toast and downed their drinks.
The volume in the room rose as many conversations broke out, discussing the news.
The Sergeant leant towards his Captain and whispered theatrically,
“You remember my little speech about stopping you becoming Montgomery. Well, Sir, I take it all back. You are him now. Your speech confirmed it, you are the supreme commander of Her Majesty’s land forces and until we find a higher ranked officer, the job is yours.”
Captain Hammond blinked at the realisation he was probably correct.
“We can’t be all that’s left, Sarge. There must be others like us?”
“I hope to God there are, Sir but look at the facts. We’re the only ones known to have survived from Imjin Barracks. Only four made it from Bickley. If we work on those odds, there can only be a few hundred of us at most. Unfortunately, somehow, I even doubt that. We were lucky and had you to lead us. Every other young officer I’ve had the privilege to serve under would have got us killed long ago. You have the lucky touch and that goes a long way in my book.”
“What do you mean, lucky? Most of my command has been killed, if you remember.”
“No, Sir. We are still alive and that’s lucky. We met those on the motorway and that was lucky. You navigated us to the Moors to find Willie and found him, that was lucky. You, Sir, have the lucky touch and I’ll follow your lead anywhere.”
Willie had heard his name mentioned and came over to them, refilling their glasses from the bottle in his hand.
“Sir. Well if all that’s true and we are all that’s left, I think it is my duty to reenlist and volunteer my services once more. I can’t have all you English taking all the glory. The Scots have saved your backsides many times in the past and I’ll make sure we will again.”
The Sergeant raised his glass to Willie.
“I’d take him, Sir, if I were you. That man, I bet, has seen more action than all of us combined. If he speaks, I would listen.”
Captain Hammond also raised his glass in acknowledgment.
“Thank you, Willie. I think I’ll need all the help I can get. You’ve been there, seen it and done it many times. Any contribution you can make will be invaluable, I’m sure. Sergeant Beedie, I accept your reenlistment. Now, if you two Sergeants want to knock your heads together about roles and duties and let me know the outcome, I believe it’s my turn on watch.”
Picking his rifle up and walking towards the door, both Sergeants watched him.
Willie spoke first as soon as he’d left.
“He seems a good one.”
“I keep telling him, but I don’t think he believes me. I think he thinks it’s the usual ego boosting bullshit I need to do to keep my officers on the straight and narrow. But young Steve is one of the best I’ve come across. He cares for his men and they know it. All he thinks about are his failures not the successes.”
He paused for a moment, thinking about the moment when he had grabbed the pistol from his hands, a pistol wet with his own tears and was contemplating using on himself. That would stay between them, something never to be repeated.
He clapped Willie on the back.
“Yep. He’ll do, and with us two keeping an eye on him, we’ll make a General out of him one day.”
Laughing, they joined the rest of the men around the table.
Before turning in for the night, Willie asked Corporal Side to help him dismantle the ham radio set so they could take it with them. It was going to be left, but now it was probably one of the most vitally important pieces of equipment they had with them.
Willie lay awake for a while before sleeping, thinking about the years of solitude he had enjoyed on the Moors. He could have been sad if he allowed himself, but the thought of beginning the journey to see Maud again filled him with too much joy.
In the morning he and his eleven new companions would set out on the next stage of their journey.
Chapter Sixteen
Tom
Carefully approaching the slip road on the next motorway junction we came to, we were relieved to find the way was clear. The horde of zombies had passed and was probably continuing its way southwards, away from us.
Shawn, as usual in the lead, with Louise on the radio warning us of any obstructions ahead, picked up the pace and the miles once again began to slip by.
My car only carried the three of us now. We hadn’t had the time to reallocate anyone to Daniel’s position in the rear of the vehicle. The car and my clothes were still stained with his blood. I hoped to be able to clean the car soon, otherwise it would continue to be a reminder of the loss we had suffered. I would throw my clothes away as soon as we stopped.
Dave was following our journey on a map, because we needed to know exactly where we were at any one moment, so if need be, we could quickly divert to one of the other routes we had planned if we found another problem ahead.
With his finger following our route, he warned me in advance we were approaching the junction we’d planned to leave the motorway at to reach Louise’s parents’ home in a small village outside Cheltenham.
I could hear the apprehension in her voice when she told us all to get ready to leave the motorway. She knew, as we all did, that the chances of finding her family alive were remote, but we had promised we would try, and we were fulfilling that promise. I didn’t know these people, but I could feel my own nervousness building up. She was one of us now and we all had great empathy for how she must be feeling.
Driving up the off-ramp, I did notice a haze of smoke staining the horizon to the north. Was it an indication of problems ahead? I dismissed it as something we would need to worry about later. Today’s destinat
ion lay in another direction.
The signs were not good in the few villages we drove through. We were close to Cheltenham, a town we knew had fallen to the zombies on day one of the outbreak. Crashed and abandoned cars blocked the road at times. They proved no problem for Shawn’s plough, but it was an indication of the mayhem and chaos that had occurred. Houses lay deserted, with doors open, and contents sometimes strewn around the front garden. Zombies were scattered around the road and gardens, occasionally on their own but mainly in small groups. Attracted by the noise we were making, they stumbled in our direction before falling victim to Shawn’s plough or a well-aimed strike from a spear as we passed.
We passed a sign announcing the name of the village we were heading for; a sign that warned us to drive carefully. Shawn slowed down, and turning, we headed up a road that must lead to her parents’ house.
Shawn’s voice came over the radio as he stopped.
“We’re here, guys. I’ll pass you over to Dave and Simon.”
Dave was standing on the seat of the Volvo, scanning the surrounding area for any danger.
He picked up the radio.
“Simon, it’s clear. Do you agree?”
From his different viewpoint he also confirmed he could see no immediate threats.
I stopped the engine and, picking up my rifle, stood up on the seat and looked around.
Louise’s parents’ house looked deserted, there were no cars on the drive and the front door was closed. A small hedge separated the road from the neat front garden.
Dave ordered us to form the vehicles into the usual square. It took a few minutes and a damaged hedge and flower beds to accomplish, but we all knew what we were doing.
As soon as we were in position and everyone was looking outwards, weapons held ready, Dave gave the all-clear for the assault team to exit the vehicles.
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 46