by Luke Duffy
He dropped back down and looked at the others. Bull was watching him expectantly, his scarred face covered with blood, dirt, and the weary expression of a man who had been to hell and back. Gerry was a different matter. He was anaemic looking and drawn, clearly shaken and almost unresponsive. Stan wondered whether or not they were going to need to carry him during their attempt to break out. Another thought immediately entered his mind, and he glanced at Bull for a fleeting moment before turning his attention back to the almost catatonic man beside him. He was considering leaving him behind. They could not afford to be carrying any baggage, and in his present state, Gerry was no use to either of them. Bull understood what Stan’s glance had said to him, and he, too, turned his attention towards the officer slumped in the corner and staring blankly at something that only his eyes could see.
“I’m okay,” Gerry said in a flat tone as he continued to stare ahead of him at a clump of bushes that concealed them behind the wall. “I’m all right.”
He looked far from all right but Stan nodded his acceptance. The events of the previous few minutes had clearly shaken him to his core. Gerry had seen combat and been on his fair share of operations, but it was obvious that he had not experienced such a hard and close quarter fight with the infected up until that point.
“Okay,” Stan continued. “We need to find a vehicle.”
Bull grunted and repositioned himself so that he was seated on his haunches with his back resting against the wall. He checked the magazine on his rifle again, confirming that it was full. He knew all too well that they were far from being out of the woods, and there was the distinct possibility that more fighting was to come.
“Just do me one favour,” he said, turning to his commander with pleading eyes before his face broke into a grin. “When we get off this rock and make it to the mainland, can we find somewhere nice and quiet to live? I’ve had more drama in the past six months than my entire life.”
“Agreed,” Stan grunted. “Come on, let’s get moving.”
17
“There’s more of them coming, Taff,” Danny’s voice called across to them from his position on the western flank.
“For fuck sake,” Taff grumbled.
He looked across at Kyle who was manning the General Purpose Machinegun, GPMG, also known as ‘The Jimpy’ or ‘The General’. The veteran and the gun were both ready to fire at anything that approached them from the low ground. Taff noted just how relaxed and collected the man seemed. It appeared as though he and the machinegun were one organism and both extremely comfortable as a couple. He considered making a joke of it but decided that now was not the time, and more pressing matters deserved his attention.
Paul, the young soldier that Samantha had brought with them, was crouched beside him, a clean and unspoiled paintbrush in his hand. He endlessly ran the bristles over the lengths of belted ammunition laid out in front of him, ensuring that the brass cases were free of grit and anything else that could clog up the GPMG’s working parts. He had gone over the rounds a hundred times, but because the veteran had not told him to stop, and with the words of Bobby echoing in his head warning him to do exactly as he was told, he continued to keep the ammunition free of dirt. He was happy to do so. It was preventing his mind from thinking too much, and he suspected that the veteran was keeping him busy for that exact same reason.
“I’ve got some grenades, too,” Paul suddenly blurted, digging into one of his pouches and pulling out three high-explosive hand grenades. “I’ve even got a claymore.”
Bobby and Taff stared down at the deadly weaponry that the young man was displaying with pride. They glanced at one another and then back at Paul, clearly worried.
“Whoa whoa whoa, sweet child of mine,” Kyle gasped. “Where did you find those?”
“I picked them up when we were raiding the stores. They were just sitting there, so I grabbed them. I figured we might need them.”
“We may do at some point, but not right now. Put them away, and be careful. Don’t fuck about with them.”
Out to the north, the battle was beginning to lose its ferocity as the initial assault groups had completed their primary tasks of subduing the islands defences. The attacking troops were now moving into the next phase, the clearance operations. It was hard to tell what was happening on the ground due to the lay of the land, but from what Taff could see, and judging by the air activity as troop carrying helicopters continued to arrive and touch down at various points, the separate assault groups were linking up and consolidating their positions. They concentrated predominantly around the built-up areas, and out to the east it appeared that the militia forces had received the same beating as the government troops.
All over the island a faint mist, created by the thousands of rounds that had been fired and the countless explosions, clung to the air just a few metres above the ground. The smell of cordite and fire was thick in the atmosphere, and even on the high ground Taff and the others could smell the all too familiar scent of war. The only thing missing was the stench of warm blood and human innards spilling from the broken bodies of the unfortunate souls caught up in the devastating battle.
Above them, the night had seemed to quickly give way to the morning, and a clear blue sky stretched from one horizon and almost to the next with just a thin line of murkiness clinging to the western atmosphere. Across the island gunfire continued, but gone was the relentless rattle of heavy weapons and the thunder of exploding ordnance. The occasional burst of fire and fountain of debris, flung high into the air by detonating shells and rockets, continued to erupt from various quarters, but the battle was clearly over. The cracks and thumps that continued to echo across the land were sporadic and nothing like what the island had been subjected to for the previous ninety minutes.
“They’re just mopping up now,” the veteran murmured, keeping his eyes and the barrel of his gun on the low ground and the troops that were forming up in that area. “You heard anything from the boss-man?”
“Nope,” Taff replied, shaking his head. “Hold the fort here while I check on Dan. Paul, keep those bullets nice and shiny.”
Taff jumped out of the shallow trench and headed off towards where Bobby and Danny were positioned. He moved across the open area, bent double and attempting to keep himself out of sight of the troops below them. As yet, their little group seemed to have gone unnoticed, but he wondered for how much longer that would be the case. Once the enemy began pushing out to clear the rural areas, it would only be a matter of time before they stumbled upon their location and launched an attack.
Sprinting past Samantha and Colin, he had no time to pause and chat. They both turned to him with expectant expressions and hoping for an update on the situation, but the stocky Welshman just smiled, made a whispered reference to how beautiful the morning was, and then disappeared out of sight.
“What’s happening, guys?” Taff asked as he landed in the trench beside Bobby.
“There,” Danny replied, pointing towards the bottom of the slope leading up towards them along the cliff side. “About ten of those things mincing about and headed this way.”
“You called me over for this?” Taff snorted as he watched the sparse cluster of shambling corpses meandering their way up towards the house. “They’re fucking miles away, Danny. What you flapping for?”
“That’s why we’re flapping,” Bobby snapped, elbowing Taff in the shoulder and pointing further along the coastline.
Beyond the small group and barely noticeable at first due to their slow speed and the low scrub that seemed to dominate the bluffs on the south of the island, dozens more bodies were making their way towards them. The activity of the gunships and transport helicopters in and around the area of the refugee camp had caught their attention. They had probably been wandering aimlessly and individually through the open countryside between the small villages before the attack but had now formed themselves into a group.
“Bollocks,” Taff spat as he made a rough estimate of th
eir numbers. “There’s a whole fucking herd of them. Where’d they come from?”
“You tell me,” Bobby replied with a shrug. “But they’re coming straight for us. I’d guess that we have about twenty minutes, tops, before they come bumbling up here.”
Taff thought for a moment. There were far too many of the infected for them to deal with without using their weapons. He had heard nothing from Stan or Bull and had no idea if they were even alive, never mind if they were on their way back from Newport. He turned and glanced to the north. The area above the town was a hive of activity. Helicopters buzzed around above the smoke filled ruins, spitting out the occasional Hellfire missile and burst of heavy cannon fire. Taff needed to make a command decision. They were currently sandwiched between two enemies, one living and one dead, with their only escape route to the north. However, it was only a matter of time before that route became closed, and they would be trapped at the cliffs.
“Prepare to move,” Taff commanded to Bobby and Danny. “Fighting order only. Dump anything that we don’t need and take just ammo and water. Load up the vehicles, and be ready to bug-out in five minutes.”
“What about Stan?” Danny asked.
“He can meet us at the ERV if he’s still got air in his lungs.” Taff shrugged before turning to Bobby. “I’ll lead us out with Kyle, Danny, Paul, and Richard. You take Sam, Colin, Willy, and Emily with you and bring up the rear. Those two vehicles good to go?”
Bobby looked around and glanced at the two Land Rovers that were parked up beside the house. He could see Richard, Emily, and William hunkered down behind them, their frightened faces peering from around the bumper and looking in their direction. He turned back to Taff and nodded the affirmative.
“Good. Five minutes, and we’re making like swastikas.”
It was pretty cramped in the back of the vehicles. With their equipment, weapons, and ammunition, it was not long before people were beginning to sigh impatiently, wanting to get moving and have the discomfort over and done with. Every available space had been filled with either a person or vital supplies. All of the ammunition was stored in their harnesses, leaving all other gear such as food and water to be crammed into the passenger compartments of the vehicles.
Taff, seated behind the wheel of the lead Land Rover, glanced out towards the east. From his position, he was unable to see the low ground and the refugee camp, and he doubted that anyone would hear their engines from that distance. Still, he was hesitant to turn the key in the ignition. He looked out at the bushes surrounding the house and then up at the sparse clouds drifting across the sky in an attempt to judge the wind direction. It appeared to be blowing towards the Channel and away from the troops in the low ground. He took in a breath and turned to Danny beside him, sitting in the passenger seat and looking impatient.
“For Christ’s sake, turn the fucking key, and stop being so dramatic,” Danny growled and turned to his left, peering out through his window and down the slope towards the advancing bodies. “They’re getting closer.”
“Okay, here we go.”
Taff turned the key, and the engine grumbled. The vibrations rippled through the vehicle, welcomed by the men and women stuffed into them. The infected that were staggering up along the slope must have heard the growl of the vehicles. Many of them stopped and turned their heads in confusion, searching for the source of the noise. It did not take long before the decomposing creatures in the vanguard recognised the objects responsible. With renewed energy, they assaulted the hill and began to climb, reaching out with their arms. They moaned and cried, alerting the corpses that were following to the presence of the living until all of the herd was headed in the same direction. They were moving faster now, growling and snarling.
“Come on then. What are we waiting for?” Kyle demanded from the rear of the vehicle where he sat perched with his machinegun pointed out over the tailgate.
“Taff, let’s get…” Danny began, but Taff held up his hand to silence him.
Leaning forward and pressing his finger to his ear, Taff’s face became contorted with concentration. He could hear something coming over the radio and into his earpiece, but he was struggling to understand what was being said. One thing he was sure of, however, was that it was Stan’s voice.
“Say again, Stan, you’re difficult.”
A few long seconds passed as Taff listened to what Stan was telling him. He nodded repeatedly and then began to sway and bob, attempting to see out through the window and towards the north. Danny did the same, having no idea what had been said or what he was looking for, but understanding that there would possibly be something to see.
“Roger that, mate. Will do,” Taff finally said, and turned to Danny.
“Well?” Danny demanded.
“Stan’s headed for the ERV. We should see him go by in a few minutes, he said. It was Gibson. This whole thing was that fucking glory hunter. He’s after those launch codes we found in London.”
“Gibson?” Danny exclaimed, his confused expression quickly turning to a look of horror as Taff opened his door and began to climb out. “Where the fuck are you going?”
Danny glanced back at the approaching horde. The first of them were just thirty metres away now and steadily closing. They were close enough for him to see their features and their lifeless eyes. The body in front had no arms, and a large portion of its face missing, leaving a dark festering void with white glistening teeth. More were behind, clawing their way up the rise.
“Stan’s being followed,” Taff hollered back as he ran towards the house. “We need to do something to throw them off our scent.”
Danny watched as Taff disappeared through the door and out of sight. Turning to the others in the back, he raised a questioning eyebrow, hoping that someone could shed some light on what was going on. The veteran looked back at him and shrugged.
“Don’t ask me, mate. You’ve known him a lot longer than I have. How am I supposed to know what goes on in that crazy Welsh mind of his?”
A few seconds later, and Taff reappeared from the doorway. He took off at a sprint, running straight past the driver’s door, around to the front of the waiting vehicles, and towards the nearest of the infected. He raced off and away from the rest of the group without bothering to tell anyone what it was that he was intending to do.
“Give us a hand, will you?” he called back over his shoulder as he zipped by the front bumper of the lead vehicle.
Danny sat watching him, open mouthed and completely confused about what Taff was doing or thinking. He was slowly shaking his head, wondering if the man had lost his mind. Bobby leapt into view, jumping out from behind the wheel of his vehicle and following after Taff. The pair of them headed straight towards the first of the corpses in line. The infected man, now at the crest of the high-ground, also saw them and let out a loud wail that was audible over the sound of the vehicle’s engine. It turned its body to meet the oncoming men, its mouth opening abnormally wide, as though Taff and Bobby were expected to tumble right in while the stumps of its arms waddled grotesquely.
“What the fuck are we doing, Taff?” Bobby huffed as he chased after his friend.
Without a word, Taff took a slight step to his left, pivoted his body, and cocked his arm back. With perfect timing he threw his fist forward, using his weight and momentum to increase the power of his punch. His knuckles crashed against the forehead of the creature with a loud thump and a crack, lifting it from its feet and sending it sailing backwards through the air. Taff followed through with his strike and corrected his balance just in time before he went careening after the corpse and down the hill. He skidded to a stop as the body slammed into the dirt with a loud smack and slid for a metre or so before coming to an abrupt halt. It lay completely still, showing no signs of an attempt to regain its feet.
“Bollocks, I hit it too hard,” Taff exclaimed as Bobby arrived at his side. He was already moving forward and focussing his attention upon the next of the infected. “Help me nail this
one, Bob.”
For a fraction of a second Bobby considered asking why but thought better of it. Taff had his own plan, and Bobby knew that he would not be out there and punching dead bodies in the head just for the sheer fun of it. However, he did hope that all would soon become apparent and would make perfect sense as to why they were risking their lives.
Stepping to his right, Bobby zeroed in on the next corpse to reach the hilltop. With his rifle clutched tightly in his hand, he moved forward and smashed the butt of the weapon into the knee of the staggering and half decomposed woman. It snapped loudly as the dried and brittle bones shattered under the impact. Her eyes locked upon Bobby’s as she began to collapse, and he ducked, taking a leap backwards as the infected woman took a swipe at him with her bony fingers. Her hand swept by over his head, and her body spun as she crumpled to the ground, her knee fragmented into a hundred pieces. She twisted and writhed at his feet, snarling as she attempted to drag herself along after him.
“Now what do we do?” he called as he shuffled back, keeping a safe distance from the woman’s clutching fingers.
Taff had beaten another of the infected to the ground and was squatting beside it, pinning it face down in the grass with his knee planted firmly in its back as it struggled to turn itself over. He looked across at Bobby and shook his head, tutting loudly.
“You dozy fucker, we need them mobile. You’ve crippled her. How can she walk now with only one knee?”
Bobby glanced down at the woman and then back at Taff. He could still not understand what he was expected to do or what Taff was doing with the corpse he was seated on top of. For a moment he watched as the rotting cadaver thrashed and snapped its teeth, slamming its face into the dirt over and again as Taff kept it pinned beneath him.