by Rob Lopez
Breht turned on her. “Look, he’s not as bad as you think, and he has the interests of the whole community at heart.”
“Really? Seems to me that he’s only interested in a select few. I notice he didn’t ask Nobby’s girlfriend to participate in anything. Favouritism is a despot’s most endearing quality – when you’re the favourite one. But the rest of us?” Filipova shrugged.
“That kind of attitude isn’t going to help. When all’s said and done, we’ve got to take the town, and the sooner we start, the better. For all of us.”
“Yes,” pouted Filipova. “And maybe after that, we can invade Poland.”
Breht ignored her remark, addressing the rest of the group. “Right, first thing we need to do is sort out your fitness. We’ll start with a gentle jog around the courtyard. Sebastian, you lead.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the group set off, looking self conscious and clumsy. Except Filipova, who stubbornly walked behind them, head held high. Breht shut his eyes for a moment, counting to ten. Then he approached the carpenters, who were still standing around, looking lost.
“Colin,” said Breht, “see if you can knock together some weapons for us. Spears or something.”
“Spears?” replied Colin. “What do you think this place is? A museum? It’s just a pile of rocks.”
“Just search the place, all right?” said Breht testily. “See what you can find and stop complaining. Now get moving.”
*
In the army, Breht had done bayonet practice on stuffed dummies. Looking round the castle, he gathered old clothes and rags, tying them into head-sized bundles. There was no point teaching his current recruits to spear bodies in the chest, as it had no effect on zombies, so he only needed the heads. A sharp jab through the eye sockets, however, would enter the brain. Using charcoal from the fires, he smudged eyes on the round bundles, then hung them on a wall.
Colin returned with a broom handle and two rusted iron bars. “Managed to prise these out of a window. They’re not much, but it’s all I’ve got.”
Breht unsheathed his bayonet and began whittling a point on the broom handle. “They’ll do for now. Do you think you can make some shields too?”
“Shields?”
“Yes, just some simple wooden shields. Something to fend the zombies off with.”
“You’ll be asking me for a horse, next,” grunted Colin.
Shots echoed in the distance, distracting Breht. He wondered if he should get up on the battlements to see if Zak and the others needed help.
“Just make them light, okay Colin? Some of my recruits aren’t all that strong.”
As soon as he said that, he realised the absurdity of his task. What the hell was he thinking, pitting these people against zombies? Just because Zak had recruited some of them in a fit of pique didn’t mean that Breht had to comply, surely?
He also felt irritated as he realised he was feeling scolded. By Zak. Which was even more absurd.
“You’re thinking of using shields,” said Filipova approvingly. “That’s good. I can see not all my advice has gone to waste.”
“No,” said Breht. “Look. I’m not sending you out there. You’re too old. I mean, I don’t want to be offensive or anything, but this kind of thing is hard enough on younger people.”
“And what is your lord and master going to say about that?”
“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. You’re not going out.”
Filipova lifted an eyebrow. “A spark of rebellion. Very well. What do I do instead?”
“You can be my special advisor. I need to give these people the best protection possible. Armour, whatever. If you can put something together, I’ll use it. And I need the weapons we use to be as effective as possible against the zombies’ physiology. Or what passes for physiology. So yeah, you’re my advisor now.”
The castle gate opened and Zak leaned in, shouting out to Colin and the other carpenters to help unload the trailer. Shots cracked out from the town. Breht looked across to Zak, but Zak simply waited for Colin to come to the gate, then left.
Breht drilled his recruits on the broom handle and the iron bars, explaining the need to pierce the brain, and only the brain. Then they took turns at stabbing the cloth bundles. It was a farcical spectacle, and the recruits felt even more self conscious than before. Breht had to make an effort to take it seriously himself. Eventually he gave up, sending the recruits on another jog around the courtyard.
The building materials from the trailer piled up inside the castle gate until everything had been gathered, then the gate was shut with everyone inside. Breht counted them, relieved that they’d all made it back. He watched Zak approach him, and squared himself to have a word with him, but Zak was looking into the distance, and he walked straight past Breht without even acknowledging his presence.
Breht watched him disappear into his tower and returned to his recruits, giving them some more half-hearted instructions. Irritation built up inside him, however, until he was seriously pissed. Dismissing the recruits, he strode over to the tower.
Zak sat cross-legged in his candle-lit basement. Bare chested, he held up his Katana in both hands, eyes closed.
Breht got straight to it. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Zak ignored him, solemnly placing the sword down on the floor, keeping his breathing controlled and calm. Head down, with eyes still closed, he said simply, “Loyalty.”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean? You were fine with me this morning, now you’re acting like a dick and ignoring me.”
Zak looked up at him, eyes like frost. “Loyalty,” he intoned. “With whom does it lie?”
28
Calm. Heartbeat steady. Fast, but steady. Breht breathed deeply, controlling his desire to run. Gliding past a mildew-covered shop window, he kept his eye on the shuffling zombie in front of him. The zombie had its back to him and Breht was sneaking up on it. Over the rooftops of the main street, he saw the castle tower, with its conical roof and coat of ivy. Not as substantial as the towers back at Conwy – more like a decorative tower from a German fairy tale – but close enough to get to in minutes if he was quick.
But he couldn’t move quick. Not with zombies shuffling like drunks on the street – swaying on the road between the abandoned cars or dragging their feet through the litter and the pavement weeds.
The zombie in front of him lurched slowly past a department store and Breht followed behind, silently gaining on him. As soon as it was past the pillared store entrance, Breht stepped up behind it and thrust his sword up through the back of its head, the point of the Katana cracking through the skull and slicing through the brain. Twisting the sword to free it, Breht withdrew the blade and ducked behind the pillar, leaving the zombie to collapse.
In the middle of the road, another zombie stuck its head up above a car. Whether it had been alerted by the crack of the skull or the thud as the body hit the pavement, Breht wasn’t sure, but he dug into his pocket and drew out a small pebble. Hurling it across the road, he hit the side of a car with a clang. The zombie whirled towards the new sound and was soon joined by others hurrying to investigate. Milling around for a moment, the zombies dispersed again, unable to find the food they craved. Breht waited for them to lurch out of sight, then slid out of his hiding place, creeping towards the tower.
He didn’t hear the shot that was fired at him, and didn’t see the flash, but he felt the hammer blow in his chest. Staggering back, he fell to the ground.
Oh Christ, not again.
The zombies on the street did hear the shot. Alerted, they caught Breht’s flailing movements as he got up, fell again, then crawled to the store entrance.
Hyperventilating from the shock, Breht tried to ignore the pain, seeing the ragged undead closing in on him. With his heart rate pulsing in his ears, he reeled towards the glass door and crashed through it.
He was in a clothing store, the mannequins gazing forlornly at him. Dragging himself through
the shattered glass, he tried to hide under a rack of dresses, but the undead smashed through what was left of the door and dived on him. Vice-like jaws bit into the back of his neck, compressing the chainmail collar. Another bit into his arm, the teeth clacking against the hardened boiled leather.
Lashing out, Breht tried to throw them off him, but he was hampered by his heavy pack. His sword was still in hand, gripped tight, and he slashed hard with it, chopping the tendons in a zombie’s leg. The zombie did not care, however, and just crawled towards him to take a bite.
His improvised armour wasn’t going to hold against such a sustained attack – they’d soon rip the hardened plates off or find the soft joints in between – and Breht exerted himself, standing up with zombies hanging from him. Freeing his sword arm he smashed the pommel into one set of jaws, breaking the teeth, then kicked the zombie back far enough to give him room to swing, lopping off its head. The zombie on his back was tenacious, resisting Breht’s attempts to throw him off, and the compressing of the chainmail was choking off the blood supply to his brain. Crashing backwards through rows of clothing and into a pillar, Breht attempted to crush the zombie into submission, but the zombie, feeling no pain, simply kept its teeth locked on his neck. Breht jammed the fingers of his left hand into the zombie’s mouth, trying to prise the teeth apart, but his Kevlar gloved fingers got caught in the compression. Desperately, he drove the sword past his neck, stabbing blind and trying not to impale himself. When he felt the sword make contact with flesh and bone, he drove the point hard until he’d driven the blade through to the hilt.
The zombie, its jaw muscles severed, released its grip, the Katana embedded crossways through its jaw. Breht couldn’t free his sword, however. Releasing his hold on it, he kicked the slack jawed ghoul into a pile of chiffon scarves and turned to face another zombie charging towards him.
Breht used its momentum against it, stepping to one side and pirouetting to slam his boot into its back, smashing it into the pillar. Before it could turn around, Breht kicked its legs out from underneath it, then slammed his knee into the back of its neck, gripping the head with both hands. Pulling the head back with all his strength, he wrenched it round, snapping the neck, then yanked it further over to sever the spinal cord.
Another zombie shuffled in through the door, but it was slow enough to ignore, so Breht returned to the broken-jawed zombie, planting his boot on the side of its head to draw out his sword. As the zombie lurched towards him, Breht swept the blade in, slicing through the neck. Then he ran.
Finding the staff entrance to the store room and office upstairs, Breht locked the door behind him, pounded up the steps and collapsed in the manager’s swivel chair. His hands were shaking and his chest heaving.
Unbuttoning his leather coat, he reached in to remove the armoured laminate chest plates that he’d sewed in, discarded and saved from his old body armour. At the bottom of the improvised pocket, he found the crushed bullet that was meant to kill him.
5.56mm. Not entirely unexpected, but he realised he should have been more cautious. He was lucky the bullet had been on target. If it came from the tower, it meant he was close.
Very close.
But how to get closer, that was the problem. Peering cautiously out of the window, he saw the castle tower, but could see no sign of a shooter. He could also see the undead converging on the shattered shop entrance below him. Soon, the locked door wouldn’t be able to hold them.
He massaged his chest, seeing the huge bruise caused by the bullet’s impact. The internal pain it caused to his old wound was worse. He popped some painkiller tabs into his mouth and swigged them down with water. Habitually, he searched the office and adjoining rest area for anything useful. Came away with a jar of coffee, sugar and a handful of paper clips.
At the back of the storeroom was a fire escape. Breht cracked it open and peered out.
Next time, his quarry wouldn’t make the same mistake of shooting him in the chest. The open streets were off limits now, and he had to find a more hidden and indirect way to get to the castle.
29
Breht stood on the wall of Conwy castle, watching the sun rise. The mass of zombies in the river mud were still there, emerging from the receding tide, waving their arms as seagulls dive-bombed them, squawking at the intruders who prevented them from getting at the crabs. Most of the town’s runners had followed Breht into the river, leaving just the slow shufflers who were too tardy or too dumb to follow the bait. Breht watched the few laggard zombies left in the town, lurching away from their night shift at the castle gates. Zak was right – now was the best time to block up the last gates in the town wall.
Thinking of Zak only soured Breht’s mood further, though.
Cobb climbed the steps to join him at the wall.
“You all ready for today’s expedition?” he said.
“Not really,” replied Breht. “We’ve prepared for it the best we can, but... well, you know.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be kind of interesting.”
“It’s just mad, that’s what it is.”
“Zak still pissed at you?”
“I have no idea what Zak is.”
Cobb leaned against the battlements. “He’s been muttering stuff about you for the past couple of days.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know. Just little digs. Petty stuff.”
“Petty’s the right word.”
“He can be a bit of an arse sometimes.”
Loyalty. With whom does it lie?
“He’s a wanker,” said Breht. “Erratic as fuck.”
Cobb equivocated. “I’ll admit to finding him a bit strange.”
Breht snorted. “A bit?”
Cobb held his hands up. “Hey, I don’t want to come between you two.”
“What’s there to come between?”
Cobb eyed him. “I’d still say there are feelings there. Don’t you think?”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“You do. But I don’t blame you.”
“Since when did you become the expert?”
Cobb shrugged, looking out over the town. “No expert. But I’ve been learning to understand you more these past few days. You’re a pretty honest, straight-up guy.” Cobb nodded his head comically. “A gay straight guy, but still straight, if you know what I mean. What you see is what you get. No shades of grey or any of that stuff. Someone who can be relied upon to be open.”
“You could get to the point,” said Breht.
“See? That’s what I mean. Well, I feel inspired to be the same. I think you fall in love too easily.”
“What?”
“Just that.” Cobb turned to go. “You’ve been burned by one faithless lover already.” He paused to glance over the wall. “Watch yourself out there today, but don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
Breht watched him descend the steps, his mind in turmoil. Again he had the sense of something happening that he didn’t understand.
I should call him back.
But he didn’t.
*
The carpenters were lined up by the castle gate, holding up the reinforced panels they’d been working on the day before. The bright morning had given way to overcast, but they were all still sweating, in spite of the cool air. Armed only with cordless power tools, hammers and a pickaxe, they were nervous and pale. None of them had anticipated that the group they’d volunteered for would be stepping out of the castle’s protective embrace. When they’d been told what they would really be doing, they’d almost downed tools and gone on strike. Quite how Zak had convinced them to continue, Breht didn’t know – he had his own problems to worry about – but none of them looked happy.
Breht wasn’t feeling that much better about his own recruits. He’d worked them hard, running with them and training with them, and he was armed the same as them, with a wooden shield and a sharpened steel concrete-reinforcing rod that, while heavy and solid during training, felt puny and inadequa
te now. All of them had their forearms bound up with multiple layers of cloth in an attempt to protect themselves. Futile perhaps, but better than nothing.
Between the two groups walked Zak, with Cobb and Nobby, trailed by the three shotgunners. They looked for all the world like a president and his bodyguards arriving for a ceremony. Breht remembered Cobb’s words a while back, and realised that Cobb was exactly where he wanted to be. Was this his way of working up the ranks? And what had he meant with his remark about faithless lovers? Was he comparing Zak to Simon Cann? Was that a warning? What did he know that Breht didn’t? Breht had yet to exchange a single word with Zak since their falling out. Except that Breht didn’t remember falling out with him, or doing anything that might explain the sulky silence.
It’s a mind game, that’s all it is.
But why? That’s what baffled Breht. It also puzzled him as to why it bothered him so much.
You fall in love too easily.
“Just remember what we practised,” said Breht to his squad. “Stick together. Act together.”
Nervous glances were all he got in reply. Sweaty palms, dry mouths. Exactly what Breht was feeling himself. That, and the overwhelming desire to quit, coupled with a fear of quitting.
A line that must never be crossed. Made all the worse as it was the only action that made rational sense.
Shields and spears, for Christ’s sake.
The castle gates were opened and Zak led the way, sword in hand. Bypassing the little bridge to the gift shop, he hopped over a crumbled wall and down the grass bank to the road, deftly decapitating a zombie who stood at the junction.
The gateway they were sealing up today was right by the castle, at the point where the old moat passed under the town wall. Flanked by the rocky walls, a road now passed along the base of the moat and out through a narrow gate. It was essentially a narrow ravine, with the castle on one side and the gift shop and car park on the other.
“Cobb,” said Zak, “you handle the blocking of this end. Nobby, clear the gateway and make sure it stays clear while the panels are put up.”