Collins's head goes out of the gap of the open door to check the area is clear before he opens the door fully and moves out into the corridor, his rifle up and his knees bent. Alice mirrors his stance and follows Collins out, her rifle swinging one way and then the other. Satisfied the corridor is clear, she signals for the rest to follow.
Catherine is the next one out, her head looking one way, then the other, Dixon’s Glock held in both hands. Her arms are straight, pointing the gun at the floor in front of her, ready to bring it up at a moment’s notice.
Emily and Stacey are up next but just as they are about to cross the threshold, an impossibly loud Rabid screech pierces the air above the noise of gunfire. Emily immediately takes a step back away from the door, moving back into safety.
“Emily, we have to go now; come on, we can do I,” Stacey says, looking at her and pulling her hand gently.
“I’m right here, Em,” Josh reassures.
Emily takes a step forward again and this time, she keeps going. Stacey guides her out and takes her to the right, so that Josh, followed by Dixon, can start to move.
Alice has waited, covering the corridor on the left, her rifle aimed directly down it. As soon as Josh emerges, he replaces her, and she quickly moves up to the front with Collins. Josh then rolls away to follow Emily, allowing Dixon to cover the rear.
The group moves quickly up the corridor with Collins showing the way on point and Josh and Dixon working in tandem to cover the rear. Sounds of gunfire and Rabids are constant and only quieten marginally as they move away up the corridor.
Collins presses the button for the lift as soon as he reaches them, before taking a covering position just past the lifts. Dixon has taken a knee and is covering the rear as they wait for the lift to arrive.
“Pack into the lift tightly. We don’t want to split up,” Dixon instructs from over his shoulder as the doors ping open.
Collins and Dixon load onto the lift last. It is tight but not too tight, even with their weapons. The lift whisks them up to the next floor quickly.
In sync with the door sliding open, Collins’s rifle sweeps down, the butt rising to meet his shoulder and his head moves to its sight. He steps out of the door before it is fully open, and he covers Dixon’s exit which is just as well choreographed. The two men ensure the area is clear and cover all angles before signalling to Alice to lead the others out. She comes out rifle raised, joining Collins and taps him on the shoulder without dropping her aim to tell him to proceed. Collins moves forward immediately, back towards the sound of fighting, before he hangs left onto the adjacent corridor that leads up to the command room. Alice stops at the intersection, covering until the three women are past and Josh reaches her when she breaks to join Collins again.
They move quickly along the corridor until it opens out into a foyer with a room at the end. Outside the room, hanging on the wall by the side of the entrance is a sign that reads command room.
Two soldiers are stationed at the entrance and they both look confused by the arrival of this odd group.
“This’ll do,” Dixon orders as they reach the end of the corridor and get just inside the foyer, well short of the command room.
Collins has already stopped and taken a covering position at the corner of the corridor and the foyer. His rifle is already aimed back down the relatively narrow corridor. He knows as Dixon does, it is the best defensive position if anything decides to attack up the corridor.
“Why don’t you take a seat ladies, while we wait for Lieutenant Winters?” Dixon says, motioning with his head to a row of nearby seats from his covering position. “Josh, see if the Lieutenant is in there; we can’t hang around here in the open.”
Josh doesn’t need asking twice. Gunshots are constantly ringing out, but their noise is gradually being overtaken by the unmistakable sound of Rabids.
Josh rises from his knee, leaving Alice to cover the middle of the corridor. She moves to lie down on her front, her elbows resting on the floor holding her rifle up, her legs splayed out behind her.
Josh approaches the entrance to the command room, the two guards outside looking wary.
“Can we help you, Private?” one asks, a Lance Corporal.
“Sir, Lieutenant Winters ordered us to meet him here, I just wanted to check he is in there?” Josh replies, his neck stretching to try and get a good look inside to see if he can see him.
“We cannot confirm that, Private.”
“Sir, this place is going to be overrun soon, I just need to know if he is in there? We have women and children with us, Sir,” Josh says, trying to pull on his heartstrings.
Josh can see inside the command room; there are only a few people in there by the looks of it. He can’t see if Lieutenant Winters is one of them, however.
The two guards look at each other for a moment and then Josh’s ploy works.
“He is in there, Private, but we can’t let you in.”
“No Sir, thank you, Sir. I’ll wait with the others, Sir.” Josh salutes and turns back.
“CONTACT!” Alice shouts, and at the same time she opens fire, letting off two rounds.
Emily’s scream is masked by the noise of Alice’s rifle, but Josh hears it. Panicked, he sprints across the foyer to where she is sitting gripping onto Stacey. He stands next to Catherine who is already up and guarding his sister, Dixon’s Glock pointing at the enemy. Josh puts his body between Emily and the corridor, his rifle aimed ready to fire.
Chapter 18
With extreme care, I edge nearer the junction that leads onto Bayswater Road. The normally busy thoroughfare that carries traffic into the shopping mecca of Oxford Street and the West End only carries the mangled shells of burnt-out cars. Battle noise travels up to me, making me more cautious. As I reach the junction, it is obvious in which direction the action is taking place—on my right, west, further along Bayswater Road or just past it in Notting Hill Gate.
I have a decision to make, either stay on the built-up side of the road with its hotels and embassies or cross the road, to the Hyde Park side. The Hyde Park side looks more inviting with the trees and greenery behind the border fence, but it could easily hide Rabids in its leaves.
There is no contest as I peer down Bayswater Road. The built-up side has bodies and other obstacles filling the pavement and gutter. The buildings that line the street are scorched by fire, with window broken and doors gaping open. No thank you, I’ll take the other side of the road.
Rising from my covering position at the junction, I go to move and cross the road. I glimpse it out of the corner of my eye, on my left like a shadow. At first, my brain processes the image as a tall man running across the junction—and for a split second, I delay, but it is not a man. A giant Rabid, by far the biggest I’ve seen, flashes towards me at tremendous speed. Fear and reflex take over and I whip around, my M4 turning quickly with me as I bring the rifle to bear on the target. My split-second delay has cost me dearly, however, the rifle turning too slowly to get a shot away. The Rabid slams me back off my feet and we both hit the ground, the M4 pointing at nothing but air. I scramble to recover myself as gravity directs the Rabid to the side of my body. I am nowhere near quick enough; the Rabid’s scramble is quicker and it springs onto me, its powerful arms pushing down onto my arms’ biceps. The massive beast pins me down, its ugly head floating above mine. I struggle uselessly to free myself, hardly noticing its depraved stink, but I can’t break the Rabids’ unrelenting grip. Petrified and unable to move, all I can do is look with fear into the terrifying eyes of my assailant and wait for its teeth to strike.
The Rabids’ mouth starts to open, its infested yellow teeth getting ready to slice into me. My eyes locked with the creature, it stares at me, studying its prey. The beast’s head tilts back, its mouth opening further and then the head comes swiftly down into my face and it screams an ear-piercing high-pitched screech an inch away from me. Its hot breath and spittle shower my screwed-up face as my eardrums threaten to burst. I wait
for the inevitable pain of its teeth ripping into me, my fear rising, but it doesn’t come.
My arms feel the giant Rabids’ claw-like grip loosen around my arms, and it then pushes against them. The Rabids’ weight almost crushes my arms as it hurls itself up and off me, jumping to its feet. Before I can react, it runs off, careering down the road in the direction of the sound of fighting.
The beast has deadened my arms, they feel weak and floppy; without looking, I know my biceps have already started to bruise. What just happened, and why didn’t it bite? It had me powerless in its grip. The temptation to lie on my back to rest and recover, to think more about the reason, is strong. I can’t though, I’m too exposed, my stomach muscles manage to pull me up into a sitting position. With some feeling returning to my arms, my left hand moves to my face, to wipe off the remnants of the Rabids’ spittle from it as best it can, in the hope the vile smell will go with it too.
An idea starts to form in my head as my arms feebly help me to my feet again. An explanation as to why the Rabid didn’t bite. I churn it over in my brain as I bring the M4 up so that I, at least, have a chance of defending myself if I’m attacked again. Out in the open, I find a hold point and move to it, finally making it across the road. An Apache Attack helicopter powers over my head from behind, heading straight down the road. I barely hear it as my ears recover from the Rabid’s assault, but I welcome the sight of it.
Do the Rabids think I am one of them? Do they take me for a Zombie? I had assumed the female Rabid in the stairwell at Orion hadn’t attacked me because it was alone in the dark or because there was something wrong with it. It was the same with the young infected girl in the street earlier. She didn’t attack me because she didn’t see me; she looked straight at me for fuck’s sake. Can they smell me as I smell them now? I couldn’t smell them so easily before I was scratched, I am sure of that.
I was attacked by the hoard in Orion, yes, but I started that episode. The building was nice and quiet, until I started shooting; that caused the commotion and they reacted to it. There was no other reason for the giant Rabid not to bite, to take its pound of flesh. Was his display a display of power to show me he is the alpha, the king of the jungle?
My mind reels as I try to work out what I am now. Am I a Rabid or do I just stink like one? I have my faculties and my one driving force isn’t to eat people. So, at least for now, I must just smell like one. Is that the only similarity I have to them, I wonder? My body has recovered extremely quickly from the virus. I have had colds that have lasted longer. I feel myself recovering, my body growing stronger as each hour passes. Perhaps I will get some of their inhuman strength; now, that would be handy!
I force myself to put the ifs and buts about my condition to one side, at least for the time being. It will have to be investigated further; I don’t want to be a risk to anyone but now is not the time. My concentration has to be focused; I won’t change my tactics based on the possibility my smell may mask me from them. That sounds a sure way for my journey to come to a fatally quick end.
The path ahead is clear, and the hold point picked so I move, staying low, behind the sights of my rifle. Leaving a wide berth from the perimeter fence of Hyde Park, I follow its path along to the next cover behind a parked-up Audi. The car, hastily parked, skew-whiff to the curb on double yellow lines, is near one of the entrances to the park. Unbelievably, the car is sporting a parking ticket stuck to its windscreen. Obviously, the Zombie Apocalypse has not deterred the diligent parking attendants of London.
Moving down the side of the black car, on the park side, I reach the bonnet. Resting the M4 on top of the bonnet, I scan the area ahead. The battle in the distance is loud, unrelenting and drawing closer. In the distance, I spot a drone in the air. The unmanned aerial vehicle is much lower than it would normally fly, the pilot not having to worry about an attack from the ground.
The vehicle looks like it is circling, I assume, over the battle taking place ahead. Judging by the vehicle’s position, it looks like the fighting is taking place in Notting Hill Gate area, still a fair distance away. A streak of faint smoke emanates from the drone as it fires a missile down at the ground. I don’t see a flash or any evidence of the explosion from the missile, but a few seconds later a muffled boom travels through the air to me. I’m going to have to be careful as I approach that area, as the fighting is fierce; however, it is my best chance of joining up with the troops and I haven’t seen evidence of others.
Just as I go to move, I see something out of the corner of my eye again. This time, my brain isn’t fooled, and I react immediately. I drop down low, turning my back to the Audi, bringing the M4 down swiftly. Wandering out of the gate of the park, a Rabid emerges, as if it has just finished its morning walk. I quickly have it in my rifle’s sights, ready to shoot. The creature strolls onto the pavement and looks at me without stopping. A much smaller Rabid than my last encounter, the dishevelled creature carries on looking in my direction, not pausing its stroll. Amazingly, it takes little or no notice of me, no show of strength or aggression. In fact, it turns its head away. Totally nonplussed by my presence, it turns left and carries on its walk along the pavement, in the direction of the sound of fighting.
On the spur of the moment, I decide to try something and get to my feet. Keeping the back of the Rabids head in the M4’s sights. I let out a short sharp wolf whistle. The Rabid now does come to a stop and turns sideways to look at where the noise came from. Looking straight at me, the creature still shows no aggression, quickly loses interest and turns back to continue on its way.
Dipping the M4 to move the sights from my view, I study the creature for a moment. Can it really be true that they think I’m a Rabid? Whether it’s true or not, I can’t let this one carry on its journey. The beast is heading for the battle in the hopes of finding one thing, prey. I pull the rifle back up and shoot the Rabid in the back of its head in quick succession, before lowering it again as the Rabid falls into the gutter.
I go back down to take cover behind the Audi, the thought playing havoc with my mind. I’m overthinking it; my concentration’s been distracted from the task in hand. My head goes back and I take a breath, enjoying the slightly fresher air coming out of the park across from me. I look through the entrance into the park, attempting to remember one of the numerous times I’ve taken Emily in there on a weekend after I’ve had to ‘pop’ into work. I’m hoping the memory will focus my mind on what I need to do and where I’m going.
Another dark figure walking along the grass, some distance away and past the entrance, ruins any nostalgic memories my mind tries to conjure up, however.
Get moving for Christ’s sake, I tell myself, there isn’t time for these delays. I force myself up, rescan the area and head to the next hold point, ignoring the dead Rabid I have to step around.
Events out of my control happen around me, as I cautiously continue along Bayswater Road. Rabids appear from every nook and cranny of the road, drawn out by the sound of fighting. They stumble out of the buildings that line the right side, many in a state of semi-coma and tripping over themselves if anything gets in their way, especially flights of stairs. I witness one emerge from a dark doorway at the top of a stone staircase. The creature, half asleep, doesn’t seem to register the stairs at all and walks out on to them as if they aren’t there. The scene is almost comical as its foot meets fresh air, it falls forward and tumbles down the flight. The sound of cracking bones as the Rabid hits the stone stairs hard quickly quenches any of the humour I’m feeling. For a moment, I think the creature is incapacitated, but it starts to move and tries to get up. One of its arms is horribly broken though, its forearm snapped in two at a disgusting angle with bone sticking through the skin. I put it out of its misery.
The sounds of explosions and gunshots are like the music from the magic pipe of the Pied Piper calling the rats out. Rabids emerge from the buildings and the park in increasing numbers and they all move in one direction, the direction of the battle. I have
no choice but to go with the flow. It’s too late to turn back; they are behind me. I keep my distance as far away from them as possible. As unnerving as it is, one thing is for sure; my question has been answered, and it is as if I am invisible to them. I wouldn’t stand a chance if that weren’t the case.
The roar of a helicopter engine bursts into the road, as it swoops out over the buildings in front of me, without warning. Both of the Wildcat’s hold doors are wide open and I can clearly see the face of the door gunner as the helicopter hovers just above the height of the buildings and across the road.
I come to a stop as my hand goes up above my head and I wave at the gunner, letting him know I’m in the area. A look of determination is etched across the man’s face as I wave at him frantically. A Rabid runs past my right shoulder from behind, careering down the road as if it knows what it about to happen. The gunner has to have seen me, but it makes no difference; the door gun erupts, sending a hail of bullets down. Just in time, I jump to my left and roll away from the barrage. The road is ripped to shreds where I had stood from the ferocious onslaught, as the gun cuts down anything in its path. Fucking wanker, I think to myself as I roll to my feet and run to take cover behind a stone wall at an entrance to the park. He saw me and fired anyway.
The gunner sprays the area with high-calibre bullets, indiscriminately. Rabids are torn to pieces where they stand and the same is happening on the other side of the Wildcat as the second door gunner sprays the opposite side of the road.
Bullets smash into the stone wall behind me, cracking it, raining chippings onto me. Around my feet, the slabbed pavement disintegrates, blown apart and I fear getting hit by a ricochet. The gunner is targeting me deliberately; does he think I am a Rabid too, is he stupid? Rabids don’t stand and wave, they bite. Let’s see if this idiot prefers Rabids that shoot back, that’ll really freak him out. I edge right away from the road and the hail of bullets, moving around the wall into the park. Using the low-hanging greenery as cover, I move back from the wall and gradually, the hold of the Wildcat enters my sights. The fuckwit behind the door gun hasn’t let up, his contorted face mad with the power afforded to him by the gun. I aim carefully and fire. Hitting my mark, the gun whips from his grasp as my bullet hits the steel lever holding the gun. A look of confusion instantly changes the gunner’s face and it takes him a moment to recover before he takes hold of the gun again. He immediately starts to fire it again, but the direction of his aim has diverted to another area of the road. I go back over to the wall and sit down with my back against it, staying off the shattered slabs. I have a drink and wait until the onslaught has finished and the helicopter moves off.
Capital Falling (Book 3): Resurgence Page 19