by Luke Duffy
Al nodded. He had known people like Frank in the past. For whatever reason, they avoided contact with humanity and deliberately sought to distance themselves from other people, opting for the life of a recluse. They were loners, and no matter what was happening in the world, they would remain as loners. To a degree he could understand people like Frank. Their lives were much simpler, and he partially envied them. However, he himself was not wired that way and needed regular human contact.
“What about the guys on the roof out there?” Al asked, referring to Harry and the other dead soldiers on top of the parking complex. “Did you know about them, too?”
“Yeah, I did,” Frank snarled back at him, feeling that he was being backed into a corner. “I knew they were there, and I watched them for over a week, shooting away and trying to escape. Are you wondering why I didn’t help them? For the same reasons I wasn’t going to help you two. There was nothing I could do, and I wasn’t ready to risk my own life for a bunch of strangers that were stupid enough to get themselves trapped up there.”
There was another heavy crash from the floor above them. Chunks of plaster dropped from the ceiling as the barricades were steadily reduced and smashed to pieces. More of the dead were piling into the building, and the floorboards were beginning to creak against their combined weight.
“So what’s the plan?” Tommy asked, agitated and stepping away from the table. “We planning on sitting around until they fuck off, talking shit?”
“You two can do what you please,” Frank replied, climbing up from the armchair and reaching for his machete. “I’m getting out of here. Those stairs will cave in once they get through that door and start bouncing about. They’re full of rot.”
Frank picked up his pack and disappeared back into the dark recesses of the room, closely followed by his dog. She refused to leave his side, whimpering quietly as a storm of destruction raged above them. The sound of a door opening came from within the shadows where Frank had vanished. A draft of cold air drifted through the room, brushing against the faces of the two bewildered men.
“Come with me if you want to live,” Frank’s voice barked, sounding hollow and as though he was standing inside a cave.
Al and Tommy went after him, stepping through a doorway that resembled the hatch of a ship. On the other side, they were met with nothing but blackness. They could smell sewage, and hear the sound of dripping water.
From below they saw a bright light suddenly illuminate the tunnel they were standing in. Frank was standing at the bottom of a set of concrete steps, waiting for them, and showing them the way down.
“This is the old sewage system,” his echoing voice informed them as they descended the stairs. “It runs the length of the town. It also links onto that pumping station at the entrance to your tunnel. You’ll need these, though.”
Al looked down and saw that he was being handed a set of bolt cutters. A large iron grate secured with a thick chain and a number of padlocks blocked off the sewage systems close to the tunnel entrance.
“What about you? Where are you going?”
“I’m off to my holiday home.”
“Holiday home?”
“Yeah. What did you think?” Frank asked, his sarcastic smile barely visible in the torchlight. “I’m no wanker. I would be stupid to put all my eggs in one basket like you lot have done. I have another place just like the one you’ve just ruined for me.”
Tommy was keen to get going. He was fumbling in one of his pouches, searching for his light, and ready to begin their escape. The tunnel was echoing with the increasing noise of the infected as they tore the building apart above them. He wanted to move and put some distance between them. He reached up and placed a hand on Al’s shoulder, hoping to prompt him into action and begin following him along the tunnel.
“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Al asked, as he began to turn away.
“Just follow the tunnel in that direction,” Frank indicated with his light. “You’ll get to a prominent junction in about a kilometre. You can’t miss it. There’s an old Christmas tree wedged into a shaft on the right. Turn left and continue through the main tunnel. Don’t take any detours, you’ll get lost easily and never find your way back without going up onto the surface. Just keep going, and you’ll reach the pumping station.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Al said, reaching out his hand. “And sorry for your troubles.”
Frank shook his hand and grunted.
“I fancied a change, anyway. Be careful along the tunnels. Some of those things wander in here from time to time. Keep an eye out.”
He turned away and began to walk in the opposite direction with Jeff close to his side. He soon disappeared into the gloom, but his footsteps could still be heard splashing through the stream of filthy water that ran along the centre of the tunnel.
“And don’t even think about following me,” he called back to them from the blackness. “Wankers!”
8
There were four of them standing by the hatch, heavily armed and ready to step out into the dead city. On the surface the last of the sun’s rays were gradually fading over the town, and as planned, Tina was about to lead a search and rescue party for Al and Tommy. All attempts at communication with the two men had failed, and the dark buildings beyond no-man’s-land had remained eerily silent and devoid of life. They had no other choice now but to go and search for them.
As they waited in silence, preparing themselves mentally for what they were about to do, each of them subconsciously ran over the plan again in their heads, reminding themselves of their individual tasks. They checked their weapons and ammunition, making sure that their pouches were secure and that nothing in their equipment rattled. They shrugged their shoulders and shook their legs, limbering up both physically and mentally.
Tina took a deep breath and exhaled, coughing lightly in the moist cold air of the tunnel. Again, she pulled up her gloves and adjusted the straps so that they were tight and afforded her the best dexterity in her fingers. She never had liked wearing them. They interfered with her ability to manipulate her weapon with maximum efficiency, but they were a necessity. Any exposed flesh could very easily lead to being infected by the dead virus should they find themselves in a close quarter fight with the infected. She stomped her feet and then turned to look back at Sebastian.
His face looked pale and his dog seemed jittery. He stood staring at the thick steel door, the cold air in the tunnel causing his body to tense and shiver. He was not afraid to step out from the base, but it had been some time since he ventured beyond the walls, and naturally, he felt apprehensive about what he would see. Worse still, he knew that Tina would not give up on Al or Tommy, and they would go as deep into enemy territory as necessary until she found them, regardless of whether they were alive or dead. He adjusted the position of his sub-machine gun and then looked down at his dog, giving her a reassuring pat on the head. She responded with a low whimper, her tail wagging slowly as she shared in his nervousness.
The man that they all called ‘Flash’ was standing close beside Sebastian. His task was to protect the handler while Sebastian’s attention was on his dog. Flash would keep him close and ensure that nothing managed to creep up on the man and that he did not put himself into any unnecessary danger during their search. He understood fully how much the man loved his animals and disliked people, and it was Flash’s job to prevent him from putting his own life at risk for the sake of his dog.
Flash was tall and lean with dark brown, almost black eyes that were set into a pale face beneath a thick main of wavy crimson hair. He had been in the base since the beginning. He was only twelve years old when the chaos began, and he had lost his family in the mayhem. He never found out what happened to them, and in the end, like so many others he had to assume the worst. Al and Tommy had found him during one of their aerial patrols in the helicopter. He had been close to starvation, hiding amongst the ruins of the city like a wild animal. They had taken him under the
ir wing, acting as older brothers and teaching him what he needed to know in order to survive in the new world. As a result of their close attention, he had learned much quicker than the other boys during their training, and his soldiering skills had developed far beyond those of the ordinary base militia.
He trained hard, developing his strength and fitness to the point that his muscles were as hard as wood, and his heart and lungs would supply him with the oxygenated blood that his body needed no matter how hard he pushed himself. His tactical thinking, weapon skills, and ability to react calmly and methodically during a crisis had made him stand high above many of the other survivors over the years.
His hard, stern features gave most people the impression that he was a serious and intense young man. However, few of the base’s population took the time to really get to know him, and many failed to notice that even during times of great stress, he was often the first to smile, flashing his rows of perfect white teeth. When he heard that his two mentors had failed to check in, he had immediately volunteered his services to Tina.
“Are we going to get on with this or what?” he grunted, his face cast in shadow while his eyes remained fixed upon the hatchway.
Tina looked at Greg and nodded.
Greg had been one of the commanders for the three Challenger tanks within the base, but his tank had been disabled and then hit with a MILAN rocket eleven years earlier during a fearsome battle against a force that had besieged the FOB. Ever since then, he had found himself acting as an ordinary infantry soldier. He had become used to it, gaining a lot of experience and skill on the ground, but he did miss his tank.
He stepped forward and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead while raising his rifle and pushing the safety catch to ‘fire’. Running his gloved hand through his thinning blonde hair, Greg then reached for the hatch wheel and turned it, releasing the locks for the thick steel door set into the mouth of the tunnel. He pulled it towards him, having to use a lot of strength to move the heavy barrier while Tina aimed her rifle, pointing it into the darkness beyond.
There was a gust of colder air that suddenly poured into the tunnel from outside. It blew against Tina’s face as she stepped forward, her eyes staring over the sights of her weapon. Her finger pressed against the trigger as she peered into the black mouth of the stairwell.
There was a clang against the grated steps. Everyone stiffened, their eyes fixed on the opening. A figure lurched into view, reaching for the doorway.
“Don’t shoot,” a voice hissed at them from the other side. “Don’t shoot. It’s us.”
Tina gasped and jumped back, the barrel of her weapon pointed straight into the large oval face of Al. She could easily have pulled the trigger, and for a fraction of a second, she very nearly did. She was already twitchy, and suddenly being confronted with a figure on the other side of the door when she did not expect one, had almost caused her to release a torrent of rounds, aimed directly at his head.
“Fuck,” she growled, lowering her rifle. “I almost blew your head off, Al.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” he replied, quickly stepping through the hatch. “Lucky for me you didn’t, eh? Were you planning on going for a wander?”
Tommy stepped through and into the tunnel. He quickly turned and helped Greg to seal the door. The moment that the locking mechanisms clicked shut, they all felt a surge of relief. They now had a strong barrier between them and the dead world again.
“Where the hell have you been?” Greg asked. “We’ve had no comms with you, and we were about to come looking for you both.”
Tommy grinned and patted the man on the shoulder.
“I’m touched, mate. You were going to do that for me? Were you worried? I had no idea that I meant so much to you.”
“Fuck off. We were only going to look for you because it would mean I’d have to do extra duties to fill the gap.” Greg chuckled, relieved at the fact that his friends were safe, and that he did not need to go out into the city to look for them.
“Well?” Tina snarled, staring back at Al.
“Long story. We’ll tell you all about it over a brew. The good news, though, is that we found the radio.” He reached out his hand and passed the small pack across to Tina. “Not sure if it’s working but I’m sure Ron will be able to do something with it.”
He fell silent for a few seconds as Tina opened the rucksack and shone her light over the old HF radio. She looked back up at him knowing that he had more to tell her.
“We found Harry and the others, too,” he continued in a sombre voice. “They got trapped on the rooftop, just as they said they did.”
“Yeah,” Tommy grunted as he turned and began to head back along the tunnel. “And we nearly ended up the same frigging way.”
They moved off, headed back along the passageway, and towards the base. As they made their way through the damp and echoing gloom, Al and Tommy were surprised to see a number of work teams along the two point nine kilometre stretch of tunnel. They paid no attention to the group as they passed by, and seemed oblivious as they busily checked over the gates that were placed at five-hundred metre intervals along its length, ensuring that the hinges were lubricated and that none would become jammed if they needed to be closed. Others were checking the two explosive charges that were in place, testing the detonators and their initiation mechanisms. It seemed strange to see so many people down there all at once. The gates and explosives were usually checked once a week by a team of two or three. Now, there must have been twenty people scattered throughout the tunnel.
Once out in the open and safely back within the perimeter, the group made their way to the conference room which had become the main meeting place when dealing with operational matters. There was a purpose built operations room within the base, but the equipment there had long since failed them, gradually becoming unserviceable over the years. The satellite communications was the first to go. The imagery and voice over IP services went dark within just twelve months of the outbreak. VHF and UHF Radio communications quickly followed as the relay stations were either overrun, or the unmanned ones shut down through lack of maintenance. Eventually, when the last internet servers crashed for good, the command centre doors were closed, and the room was left to the rats and the build-up of dust.
“What’s going on out there?” Tommy asked as he dropped himself down into a seat. Along the way he had wasted no time in snatching himself a cup of coffee from the canteen, and now sat savouring the hot liquid.
Both Al and Tommy had noticed a change in the atmosphere of the base. People appeared to be more tense, their concerned faces and nervous eyes betraying their fear. There seemed to be a lot more activity than was normal. More people were moving around, armed and looking like they were ready for a fight. At first Al had thought that it was all part of a rescue attempt for them, but he soon realised that his flattered feelings were misplaced. As they tramped across the open ground and headed for the central complex, they noticed that the number of guards had doubled, even tripled, upon the wall. Ammunition was being dragged out from the storage sheds and hauled up the steps by teams of men and women, all eager to help and working at a rapid pace. The base was now a hive of activity, a far cry from the melancholy that had gradually engulfed the base’s atmosphere for the past eleven years.
The militia along the wall held their fire, but Al and Tommy could see that their attention, and the aim of their rifles and machineguns were pointed out beyond the walls. That was when they heard it. It was impossible to miss, and Al wondered how he had not noticed it immediately. The howl of the dead was louder than usual and constant. There were thousands of voices merged into one almighty groan coming from just beyond the base’s perimeter. He could even distinguish the buzz of the swarming insects that clung to the dead. To Al, it sounded like a football match with a less than enthusiastic crowd cheering for their teams.
“It’s the dead,” Tina replied, removing her gloves and dropping them onto the cold wooden surface of th
e conference table in front of her. She sat down and let out a long sigh. “They’re on the move again.”
“On the move? Where to?” Al asked.
“Straight for us. We don’t know why or how, but yesterday they just suddenly started advancing across no-man’s-land. Just a few at first. It was like they were doing it for a dare. The shooters took them out, but more of them starting moving. Eventually, hundreds of them were coming towards us.”
“How many are out there? Is it all of them?”
“No, but there are more and more of them joining in with the others by the minute. The majority are still keeping their distance, but I can’t see it staying that way.”
“Shit.”
“I’ve ordered a ceasefire. Ammo is a concern, and I don’t want people blatting off rounds through panic. The commanders up there are under strict instructions to only open fire if there is a direct threat of one of the gates being compromised. In the meantime, everyone else is on two minutes notice to move. As per the drill, everyone has a grab-bag packed and close at hand. All families have been centralised, and any vital equipment such as medical, ammunition, and communications have been packed and are ready to go.”
“Move to where?” Al grunted.
“We were hoping that you two would be able to help us with that.”
“What about fire? It worked last time,” Tommy offered, sitting forward in his seat and now forgetting his coffee.
Tina shook her head.
“Not enough fuel. Even if we used what we had, it wouldn’t be enough to even singe them. According to Jim, we’re down to fumes.”
“Why are the pus-sacks suddenly on the move after all these years?”
“No idea,” Tina shrugged. “They just started advancing one at a time. The majority have remained in place, but my concern is that they will eventually follow suit and launch a mass assault against the walls.”