The ones inside had already begun to move towards the new source of noise we’d created, slowly shambling as one back down the length of the hall, some tripping over the occasional table or chair that hadn’t already been pushed out of the way by their continual wanderings.
Chet didn’t do as I expected and strike one match and throw it in through the hole in the window. My mind had already registered that the match would most likely go out before it hit the floor to ignite the petrol spilling out of the cans. Instead, he lit one match and, doing something I hadn’t done since I was a child, used it to light the rest of the matches still in the box. The box flared and hissed noisily as all the match heads burst into fire in a rapid chain reaction. The box, now emitting a flame over a foot long, was thrown through the hole in the glass by a smiling Chet.
We both stepped back and waited.
Nothing happened for a few seconds. The bodies inside began pressing against the new hole we’d created, arms once more reaching out, hands opening and closing like claws.
Had one of them stepped on the burning matches, putting them out?
When the petrol caught, it did not blow the building up as would happen in Hollywood movies. There was a low whooshing sound and flames appeared throughout the building, following the spreading petrol. Air rushed in through the holes we’d made in the windows as more oxygen was pulled in to feed the flames.
The former villagers had no comprehension of the dangers the flames held and made no move to get out of the way, and either stayed where they were, and the flames caught them up, or they walked towards the new and interesting noise and lights that were spreading across the floor in a blue and yellow flame.
As the first few pensioners caught fire, possibly because the nylon and polyester clothing they were wearing was more inflammable than the natural cotton or wool that others were dressed in, the fire really began to take hold. These human fireballs still walked, not feeling any pain as they bumped into others, setting them alight too. When the curtains caught fire, it was clear the fire was out of control and wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to burn. The whole process had taken no longer than a minute.
Chet and I checked our weapons and ran over to where Dave and Simon were leading the fight against the approaching swarm.
Dave looked at our handiwork. The fire was growing rapidly, and black smoke was pouring from the roof.
“Enjoyed yourselves?” he asked with a grin, before turning back to face the direction the zombies were coming from.
The knights had been working hard and the field in front of them was littered with hundreds of corpses. Facing the massed zombies, shields raised, they screamed their battle cries as they hacked, slashed and thrust at ones trying to climb over a wall of already unmoving corpses.
Looking back across the field, I could see other similarly arranged rows and wondered what tactics they were using.
It wasn’t worth asking just then, and I would obviously find out soon enough.
One of them issued a command and they all disengaged immediately and took ten paces backwards. Dropping their shields, they either sheathed or slung their weapons over their backs and reached back to grab a pike from someone who had peeled off from the flanks, picked it up from the ground and held it ready for them.
Another command was issued, and the pikes were lowered, and the knights stepped a few paces forward and formed a line in front of the wall of death they had just created. Breathing heavily, they waited.
The ones who had handed them the pikes went back to the flanks and continued to take shots at any that were spilling from the pack, threatening to outflank them.
“Great work lads,” Dave shouted out to them, “One more time, lads and we’ll pull back to the vehicles. Knights, when I order it, you peel away and get on board.”
“What can we do?” I asked when he’d finished.
He looked around the field. We were about fifty metres away from the vehicles. The village hall was burning fiercely and only a few zombies were approaching from other directions. A shot sounded from the trailer and I watched as another one fell. They were too few to worry about and the others were proving capable of dealing with them.
“We have it sorted here, if you and Chet could take up position half way between us and the vehicles and keep watch for anything we might miss.”
With a nod, Chet and I jogged away to where he indicated and raised our weapons, ready for anything.
I couldn’t help myself, though, and kept looking towards where the action was taking place.
It was fascinating to watch.
As soon as the zombies came within range, the knights began killing them with their pikes, every thrust destroying another brain with the sharp spike. The ones killed fell to join the others creating a growing wall of bodies, which when it was high enough, created enough of an obstruction to hold them back.
Horace ran up and down in front of them, knocking over any they missed.
At a shouted command issued from within the solid line of knights, they dropped their pikes behind them and bent down to pick up their shields and reach for their hand weapons. Still all screaming their battle cries, they formed a shield wall and stepped towards the mound of their recent victims and began thrusting, stabbing and hacking again at the ones trying to climb over the obstacle, creating an even higher pile of bodies.
Horace then began patrolling up and down their line, just behind them. Ready to jump in and help if required.
While the knights were busy fighting, Dave got three people to gather up the pikes and take them back to the trailer. Once they’d passed them up, they returned to cover their retreat.
A breathless shout from within the line of knights,
“Whenever you’re ready, Dave! We’re all just about knackered here.” This prompted the next move, and Dave shouted the order.
“Do that push back drill and disengage. Make best speed back to the vehicles while we cover you.”
A few more hacks and thrusts later, a shout came from one of them and they linked their shields and on another shouted countdown from one of them, gave a hard shove against the zombies still trying to climb over the wall of corpses. As they tumbled back down the gory slope of death, they knocked more over creating a gap and giving them the time to turn around and run back to the vehicles.
The timing and execution of the drill was so efficient that there was no need for any of us tracking backwards protecting the running knights to fire our weapons.
Within a few minutes, ramps were raised, doors were closed, and the convoy of forty-two people and one dog slowly moved off the cricket pitch and continued the journey.
Chapter Eighteen
Retracing our route out of the village, I was puzzled when passing the end of Louise’s parents’ road, she told us that Shawn was stopping.
As soon as he had, Shawn leapt from the cab and carrying his weapon, ran up the road towards their house.
“Louise, what’s he up to?” I asked
“Tom, I don’t know. He just told me to tell you we were stopping and then he ran off.”
We could do nothing but wait, our eyes scanning everywhere for approaching zombies. It seemed longer, but it was only a few minutes before he returned, running at full speed, his weapon in one hand and objects held in his other. When he was closer, I could see what they were. He had gone to Louise’s parents’ house and gathered some picture frames. Thoughtfully getting her what were probably family photos to help her remember her sister, mother and father.
“Bugger me,” I said, “he must in bloody love, the daft git. He’s getting gifts for her now.”
Everyone in my car laughed. I wasn’t annoyed with him, he’d only put himself at risk and hadn’t asked for any help from others. It had only taken him a few minutes, so he hadn’t delayed us at all.
We laughed as we all agreed that though the women would treat it as a very noble and gallant act, it would not stop the rest of us taking the piss out o
f him mercilessly.
I couldn’t see from our position, but I could imagine Louise being very happy at what he had done.
A minute later he pulled away and we followed his lead back to the motorway. Dave sat beside me, refilling his empty magazines from a large can of loose bullets Chet had dragged over from the rear of the car. As I drove, I handed him mine that I’d dropped down my shirt when exchanging them for full ones grabbed from the pouches on the tactical vest I was wearing.
He was exuberant. Full of praise for the way the knights had virtually handled the situation by themselves. Hundreds had been terminated for the expenditure of very little ammunition. Every thrust, stab or hack from one of the many weapons the knights had at their disposal that killed one was a bullet saved as far as he was concerned.
Feeding bullets into the magazines, he described how as soon as he could, now that he had seen how truly effective medieval weaponry could be, he needed all of us to get trained to a greater or lesser extent in all aspects of the ancient weapons.
We could potentially field at least three times as many ‘knights’ into battle as we currently had, if we counted everyone including children above twelve, and that prospect got the Marine Sergeant very excited.
To raise his mood even more, I reminded him how effective crossbows could be. Shawn, when he’d fired his at the start of our adventure on Bodmin Moor, had killed zombies easily from a distance. I knew we had at least thirty different sorts of crossbows from the knights and a good quantity of bolts. And extra bolts could, with a little trial and error, be made from materials we could scavenge.
Becky’s voice over the radio stopped his rhetoric.
“We need to find a place to stop soon. Everyone’s exhausted, especially the knights. The children have been cooped up all day in the trailer and after fighting two battles today and losing poor Daniel, I don’t think we can go on much longer, either physically or emotionally. I know you men think you’re all big and tough, but I can see the state of everyone in the trailer and if we have to fight again without getting any rest, it might not go as well next time.”
I looked at Dave.
“What you think, mate?” I asked.
“Can’t argue with her, pal. It has been non-stop all day and to be fair, I’m feeling pretty whacked, and we’re trained to cope with long periods of stress. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m dealing with civvies now, too. And not just civvies, but children and babies as well.” He smiled.
“I’ll pull her up on her sexism, though. The women today fought just as hard as the men, so if she was implying that the women can last longer than men in combat situations, I will have to defend the honour of us boys.”
“Good luck with that,” I replied with raised eyebrows.
The demographics of our group meant we had more men than women, but that didn’t mean the men did all the work. Everyone did, and could, shoot a gun and wield a zombie spear. Just now at the Village Hall, just as many women as men had stepped from the vehicles to protect the vicar when he performed his service and then joined the Marines to protect the knights’ flanks as they fought the pack of zombies.
Dave picked up the radio.
“I agree. It’s too late to try to reach Worcester and Steve’s family. Shawn, Louise, since you’re in the lead and have the best view, can you keep an eye out for a good place to stop? I don’t need to tell you what to look for.”
Louise confirmed that they understood and were both on the lookout.
Soon Louise broadcast that she knew of a farm that was coming up on the left. It was about half a mile off the main road and if it wasn’t overrun, it would be a good place to stop for the night.
The farm looked a good choice, I decided, as the convoy pulled into its yard after driving up a long single-track drive. As the last vehicle in the convoy, we’d stopped and closed the gate just off the main road. It wouldn’t stop a horde, but it would deter any from heading our way. If we had to leave in a hurry, any of our vehicles would easily be able to smash through it.
The farm was arranged in a typical layout. A large central courtyard that could easily accommodate all our vehicles was surrounded by a few farm buildings with the main farmhouse at one end. Walls and gates filled in the gaps between these buildings. The walls weren’t high enough and the gates not strong enough to offer complete security, but they were better than nothing and would offer us a certain amount of protection, and they would delay any approaching zombies.
From much practice, we formed the square of vehicles quickly and one by one, the engines were turned off.
I could see two cars parked neatly in the yard, in front of the building I assumed was the farm shop I’d seen signs advertising on the main road. One was a small two-door compact and one was a larger estate car.
Dave called out to everyone, reminding them to stay put until he’d done the usual security sweep.
Grabbing our weapons, Chet and I joined him as we climbed down the ladder from the Volvo’s roof. The outbuildings had open fronts, so we checked those first, and finding them empty, we moved on to the side of the yard that contained the farm shop. Passing the cars, I took a quick look inside them. Tapping Dave on the shoulder, I pointed at one of them.
A dog that looked to be dead lay in the luggage area of the estate car. A few of the windows on the car were opened for ventilation. All they did now though was let out the strong smell of faeces and decay
“Poor mutt,” I thought. Everyone knew the danger and stupidity of leaving dogs in cars in hot weather.
I looked at the doors to the shop. Maybe though, if you were just popping into somewhere for a second or two to pick something up, you’d consider it. The issue was, did a few moments turn into a lifetime for the owners of the car?
Dave indicated needlessly for us to be quiet and we approached the shop doors and looked inside. That solved the mystery of the dog.
Inside looked chaotic, shelves were knocked over and their contents scattered across the floor.
In the middle of the shop floor, three people were crouching over something on the floor. I could make out that two looked older and one was a young girl. I could not see what they were leaning over but I could imagine.
I looked at Dave and Chet, who nodded they were ready. I pushed the door open slowly and the three of us stepped in quietly. Chet’s foot accidentally kicked against a can, which then rolled across the floor and clattered against some metal shelving.
Three heads lifted and began looking around for what had disturbed them. One of them, a lady who must have been in her seventies locked her eyes on us. She was holding a bone in her hands and her face and clothing were entirely covered with dried blood. Staring at us silently, she raised the bone to her mouth and continued gnawing upon it as she stood up. When they’d all raised themselves up, we could see what they were feeding on. A shoe, a few scraps of clothing and a pile of picked clean bones was all that was left of their victim. A lone white plastic clog the only indication it might have been someone who’d worked in the kitchen at the farm shop. They must have been feeding on their one victim for days, picking the corpse clean until there was nothing left.
“Clumsy bastard,” chuckled Dave. “Oh well, they know we’re here now. Let’s get on with it.”
He pulled a hand axe from the holder on his belt and stepped forward. We did the same. The axes had been one of the many items we had got from the farm supplies warehouse earlier. They all came with a holder that clipped to the belt and so made an ideal weapon for us to carry. Most of us had adopted them as our preferred primary close quarter weapon.
The axes easily smashed through skulls, their brains spilling across the floor as we withdrew them, adding another layer to the crusted and dried stains already covering it.
Our work was not yet done, we still had the main house to check. Holding the blood-dripping axes in our hands, we left the shop and trotted over to the front door of the farmhouse. The door was locked, but easily gave way to a
well-aimed kick from Dave.
The house was a mess. The mess, though, told a story of a family’s rapid, but organised departure. Wardrobes and chests of drawers were open in all the bedrooms and clothes that hadn’t made it into bags had been left scattered everywhere. Food that hadn’t been taken was still piled on the kitchen worktops. The large pantry next to the kitchen was empty. Most of the food left behind was perishable, showing that they’d had time to make choices about what to take. In the utility room a gun safe was open with the keys left in the lock, a lone gun was still in it and a few dropped cartridges littered the floor.
We would never know what happened to them. All I cared about was that the house they had left in such a hurry would provide us with an ideal shelter for the night.
Thirty minutes later, the smell of cooking from the kitchen grabbed our interest. Jim had gone to the farm shop and ignoring the carnage on the floor, had collected a lot of almost fresh vegetables and dried meat from the deli counter and after telling Maud to stop interfering with his creative genius, was making a huge pot of delicious smelling what he called in his own words, ‘mush’.
While he was cooking, we had closed and reinforced the gates to the courtyard and arranged the vehicles to form a barrier around the front door, and a few of us spent some time securing the house. Scavenging some materials from the sheds on the property, we boarded up every ground floor window and door, except for the front door.
Some good news was that the dog in the car wasn’t dead, as I had first thought; Daisy, after hearing about it, had insisted on going to check on it. And lucky she did.
As soon as she peered through the window of the car, she’d seen its chest barely rising and falling; her scream for help caused many of us to run over, weapons at the ready.
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 48