As we drew nearer to the bridge I gasped. The Golden Jubilee Bridges, walkways that ran alongside the trains as they crossed the river at Charing Cross, were crammed with zombies. And we had to pass underneath them. I shivered involuntarily as I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
Looking along its entire length I could see no way of avoiding passing under dozens of the bastards - and their enthusiasm for our flesh would almost certainly make them fall onto the boat in their unnatural pursuit. Even if our people hid under the boat’s eaves, invisible to those on the footbridge above, I couldn’t be sure the vessel would not be swamped as they played lemmings as we came within their grasp. I used some rope I found in the wheelhouse to secure the wheel and ran to the lower decks where my fellow survivors waited.
“Listen, guys,” I began. “We’re about to go under that bridge and those bloody things might jump or fall down onto the boat.”
“Can’t we avoid them, Emile?” Indre asked, almost pleading. In her panic she scoured the bridge trying to find an answer I hadn’t been able to discover.
“I can’t see how,” I replied. I looked at Becky, I was only too happy that she was a strong swimmer, as was I. “If worse comes to the worst then jump overboard. They might be able to float but I haven’t seen any of them swimming.”
“I can’t swim very well,” Joshua piped up.
“Put on a lifejacket,” I told him, and it gave me an idea. “In fact we should all do that; the padding might offer us some protection if any do get onto the boat.”
We scurried around looking for the jackets until we discovered a padlocked central locker. One hit with a rifle butt and the padlock broke. Piled neatly inside were about forty orange and white lifejackets. Suitably attired I returned to the wheelhouse. If these zombies could be lured to the place on the bridge above where they expected us to pass, then perhaps I could draw them to a particular part of the bridge, thinning their number either side of the target area. Then a sudden turn to the left or right might allow us to slip under the bridge with many fewer zombies to worry about. At this moment it was pure guesswork because we still didn’t know if they would even try and get onto the boat. Whatever happened, I wanted to make sure we had the best possible chance of survival - after all there were quite a few bridges between us and Woolwich.
As we neared the bridge I tried to work out the best place to aim for. There wasn’t much in it so I aimed for one of the grey supports. Becky came up to stand by me in the boathouse.
“I want to be near you,” she said, her face bullish. I was not going to be given a chance to argue. I smiled and pulled her close to me in a hug.
“Love you,” I said, I think for the first time in our relationship. She looked at me and gently kissed me on the cheek.
“I have always loved you,” she replied.
We lapsed back into silence and I concentrated on keeping a straight line to telegraph our intentions to the braindead creatures above. We were less than half a mile from the bridge at this point.
As we closed in I could see that my ideas actually held water, there was definitely a perceptible movement of the horde, ambling to where we looked likely to pass under the bridge. The bastards, I thought, they really do want to get to the boat. I looked down and couldn’t see our people, which meant the zombies on the bridge were likely to have the same empty deck in view. Clearly anything big or small that moved provided a viable target to these creatures.
I was getting excited, my makeshift plan was working; either side of my target the numbers were thinning nicely. At about one hundred yards off I spun the wheel forcing the boat to take a sharp turn to the left - well as sharp as this type of boat could make. We heeled more than I expected and Indre squealed as she fought to hold on against the manoeuvre. Some zombies saw the move and tried to change their direction of travel but they were moving too slowly to make a difference at this point.
As we drew under the bridge, the boat moving as fast as I could make it go, half a dozen or so bodies fell onto the cover of the deck, two or three of them sliding harmlessly into the water. The remainder fell to the wooden decking and we pounced onto them stabbing our hooks at their heads, trying to dispatch them before they had a chance to recover and attack. We were doing pretty well when another couple fell from the second bridge on the far side of the railway platform. They landed squarely on Joshua who had ventured out from under the deck cover to kill one of the first intruders.
I ran to his side but before I could help him one of them had taken a chunk out of his hand. He screamed in pain and terror as he saw bright red blood squirt from an artery in his wrist. I stabbed both zombies in the head with my bayonetted rifle - their focus was on Joshua at that moment and so mercifully they were an easy kill for me.
I dragged the poor bastard over to a bench seat and laid him down on its white faux leather surface. The others came over to help.
“Stay focused!” I admonished them. “We might get more.”
They turned back to the main deck clearly dreading the arrival of more attackers. Another couple of zombies fell into the water behind us as they misjudged their descent, one hitting its head on the fantail leaving a smear of black blood and brains on the white paintwork.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joshua incanted, writhing in pain from his wound. His wrist was already turning dark, the blood vessels becoming noticeably darker under his translucent skin as they traced their path up his arm. I looked around for something to bandage the wound with when I remembered I had seen a green-crossed white first-aid tin stored with the life jackets. I fished it out of the locker and ran back to Joshua. Hurriedly I wrapped the wound as best I could in bandages after pouring some sort of sterilising fluid onto the exposed area, hoping to prevent infection. He screamed as it seared his rendered flesh. There was no point in pussy-footing around dabbing it on gently. If there was the slightest chance of stopping the infection from taking hold I was going to do everything I possibly could to do just that, although I believed the damage was already done.
“Come on,” I encouraged when I had finished my work. “Sit up, you’ll feel better.”
Joshua struggled as he tried to obey. There was a desperate determination about him against the inevitable. Under his eyes there was already a growing shadow of death, veins and arteries becoming clearly visible under the skin as they darkened. I remembered that in a recent zombie film Brad Pitt had chopped some soldier’s hand off to save her from the infection, but this thing had travelled so fast up his arm it had taken me by surprise. Anyway, I didn’t have a machete to hand and wasn’t sure I could bring myself to do it if push came to shove. The bayonet I had was short and only a dress version, useful for quick thrusts but nothing of real import.
I looked up at the wheelhouse and saw Pius had taken the helm. He just looked sad and shook his head ever so slightly. I knew exactly what he was trying to communicate; I just didn’t know how much time before Joshua became the enemy; then I would have to stump up and deal with him.
Looking ahead I could see Waterloo Bridge looming. I thought about it and counted eight more bridges we needed to get past. This was going to be the longest and most painful short journey in history.
“Do you want to try the same thing again, Pius?” I called to him.
He just nodded and focused on steering the boat. Making sure Joshua was comfortable I went over to Becky and Indre. Our little band was shrinking; I wondered if any of us would survive to get to Woolwich.
“Hopefully the next bridge won’t be as packed with the goddam things, but at least we do have a way of minimising their numbers above us. Waterloo Bridge has a bigger set of railings for them to get over so we might not have the same problem, but…” I shrugged my shoulders and held up the rifle. “We will be more prepared this time.”
“Oh yeah? And why is that, would you say?” Indre asked, her voice quavering with fear and a determination not to die.
“Because we survived the last attack and know wha
t to expect. Stay under the awnings so they can’t land on you. Quick stabs to the head should take them down, then you move onto the next one as fast as you can. Okay?”
Both girls nodded grimly and gripped their boathook staves more tightly.
I put my rifle down and began dragging the bodies to the side of the boat and rolling them overboard. The girls joined in. The last thing I wanted was for any of us to trip over a cadaver. That would be game over.
We were approaching Waterloo Bridge. I could already see the numbers of zombies on this bridge were fewer than last time. I heaved a sigh of relief as I could see that the same trick was working on this bridge as before. At the last moment Pius veered the boat to port and we dove under the structure. This time only three flailing bodies landed on the decks and were easily dispatched.
“Emile!” Pius shouted from the wheelhouse. I turned to see Joshua coming at me, arms outstretched and fingers claw-like. His whole countenance had changed from the apparently gentle and well-meaning person we knew to this blood-drooling creature with lifeless, nacreous eyes. Without hesitation I raised the rifle over my head and thrust down into his brain instantly flicking the off switch. Poor old Joshua dropped like a stone to the deck. Indre let out a small cry of grief and she clung to Becky, her colleague cum friend’s departure too much to bear. Becky spoke gently to her, stroking the distraught girl’s hair while leading her to a bench. I left them and went to Pius.
“Only seven more bridges to go,” I informed him.
“Jesus, help us,” he sighed.
“Failing his assistance, we really need another plan,” I surmised.
*
13 - Speedy Solution
Pius did a great job of getting under Waterloo Bridge with only a few zombies succeeding in getting to us. Whatever the reason for their small number we were incredibly grateful and we easily put them down, but we couldn’t expect our luck to endure as we still had six more bridges to pass, including the new frail-looking Millennium Footbridge which probably offered them a prime view of us as we approached. We needed another solution. And then Becky saw it.
“Emile,” she cried. “Look!”
She pointed over at the river works pontoon just past the bridge. I saw it then, a fast looking boat tied up to the pontoon. Was it too good to be true? I wondered if this might be our transport that would thwart the hunting instincts of the zombies. Using the same tactics we could be past the bridge easily before the zombies could react. It was also smaller so landing on us would be more of a challenge for them.
Our boat’s bow edged towards the pontoon. I covered our approach with the rifle, the bayonet still attached. I wondered if I was even capable of hitting something I aimed at, I’d only ever used airguns at a fair when I was a kid. Sometimes I wished I was in the USA, at least I’d probably have had better weapons or at least more practice with which to defend myself and Becky.
As we neared the pontoon I noticed movement in the fast boat which I now saw was a speed boat, clearly out of place on the Thames. Most of its structure had been hidden as it was moored on the far side of the pontoon.
A man was walking backwards and forwards; he looked like he was pacing in frustration. I kept my sights on him as we drew nearer. We bumped gently and almost silently against the tyres slung against the sides of the pontoon. The man looked up as if in surprise at our arrival. He mouthed something but the words were lost as if he mumbled. His face creased in a furious mask. He wasn’t a zombie but he was sure as hell angry at something.
He raised a pistol in his hand and fired before I could react. The bullet whistled past and put a hole in the wheelhouse window. Thankfully it missed Pius and gave me time to react. I fired my gun for the first time and the man spun around as I hit him in the shoulder. The pistol left his hand and was hurled into the water, while he disappeared from sight within the speedboat.
“He’s not dead,” Indre shouted out, her angle of view of the small vessel marginally better than mine. We hunkered down and waited behind our boat’s gunwales, waiting to see if he would resurface.
I saw some movement; it seemed the man was about to do something. I lined up my rifle with where I estimated he would emerge and waited nervously. Obviously I had never shot a man before but this one was determinedly in our way and seemed not to be worried about lethally attacking us. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t breaking the law, I was defending myself and my people.
Pius appeared beside me and together we waited to see what the man would do. Our vessel was stationary, it seemed as if the tide was pressing us against the pontoon and so we didn’t have to expose ourselves to attack by having to tie up alongside.
At last the man emerged, slowly at first but then suddenly making a dash for the steel cabin on the pontoon. Pius and I fired at the same moment and the man lifted off the ground and was hurled backwards, pink spray splashing out behind him as the contents of his chest burst through his back with the double impact. That one image is still as clear to me right now as it was in that moment, possibly clearer because I have had the time to analyse it in detail. I can still see the red patch in high def where I hit him with my first shot - on the left shoulder hence why he spun around when the bullet struck.
His body fell into the water and disappeared. Pius and I jumped onto the pontoon and I signalled Becky and Indre to stay on board until we had made sure all was safe. I cautiously made my way to the water’s edge where the man had disappeared and saw him floating away, his face contorting as he struggled to get back to shore. At first I actually thought he might be alive but after a moment I saw his eyes and stopped worrying. From the direction of his drift he was not going to get back to the pontoon.
I turned around and Pius beckoned me over to the steel cabin the man had been trying to get to. It looked like some sort of shelter for river workers. Looking in I could see a small kitchen set up and a stack of boxes and paperwork. I jumped backwards as a zombie face emerged directly in front of mine a mere couple of inches away, blood smeared across the man’s face and part of his cheek hanging loose revealing molars. Pius laughed lightly.
“There are two of them,” he whispered. “I think we can leave them be.”
“I agree. Let’s just get out of here in the speed boat if we can.”
The girls were still on our original boat watching us as we approached the speed boat. Pius and I spread out as we got nearer, no point in giving a gun-toting someone an easy target.
Peering into the boat it was obvious that there was no-one left on board. I jumped in and turned the ignition key the owner had thoughtfully left behind and saw the fuel tanks were full. The owner was more sophisticated than the Homer Simpson key bearer on the previous vessel. This one was a diamond-encrusted Mercedes Benz key ring; a little blingy for my humble taste but what the hell.
I pressed the starter and the two outboard engines burbled into life. They sounded powerful and a frisson of pleasure surged through me at the thought of driving this beast. I’m assuming driving is the right verb for piloting one of these vessels.
I gestured to Becky and Indre and they hurried across to our new ride. Pius untied us and in moments we were hurtling towards our first bridge at Blackfriars. Due to our speed the zombies had no idea how to get to us and several dropped harmlessly into the Thames in our wake. By now I was smiling broadly, Becky by my side and her hair streaming out behind like those holiday shots you see on the telly. At least a few minutes of our day out to London had given us a little pleasure, or at least relief. Once we got past Tower Bridge I slowed down; there was no point in using too much fuel or rushing into trouble. I preferred to see trouble before it came troubling me.
Looking at the shore as we passed all the famous landmarks such as the Billingsgate Market and the Isle of Dogs, the O2 monstrosity, and the Cutty Sark, all I could see for mile after mile was crowds of people milling around. We were neither quite close enough to attract their attention, nor could I see their faces clearly; it was more how they
moved that made me realise that every single one was a zombie, as far as the eye could see. Occasionally the crowd would surge in our direction but they were soon lost to our speed. There were even a couple of commuter aircraft partially submerged on the river, caught up on sandbanks and burnt out, groaning coming from their blackened cabins. I imagined they had been on their way into City Airport but had fallen short, their passengers perishing only to return once more as zombies. I recognised the groaning coming from them and chose not to look for survivors.
Seeing all this destruction, zombie rebirth and the ever present stench of death all around us drove home the fact that this thing was everywhere. I had also noticed that there were no contrails in the sky, not a one and that was a first since 9/11. I assumed, perhaps using flawed logic, from that absence that there was nowhere in the world we could travel to in order to get away from this modern plague. Or maybe we were being quarantined by all other nations. Mostly I wondered how we would get to Pius’ family. I really had no clue; nor did Pius at the moment. My other worry was what it would do to the big man if he discovered his family in the same condition as the rest of the world, after all the odds were stacked against him finding them alive. I again thanked my lucky stars the only person I gave a damn about was standing next to me on this boat.
Ahead lay a couple of larger vessels. They had collided at some point during the night, one of them bursting into flames and taking out part of the other one. They lay forever entwined, blocking a large part of the river. Fortunately the river was quite wide now we were past Wapping and the small draught of this boat enabled us easily to get past them without fear of grounding. A couple of zombies stood on the stern of one of the vessels and upon seeing us promptly walked in our direction and fell headlong into the water and disappeared from sight. Poor bastards.
*
14 - Woolwich Arsenal
Arriving at the Woolwich ferry we slowed the boat to a crawl, studying the shoreline and trying to work out how we might possibly get onto dry land without having to battle our way inland. The upside was that the numbers of zombies seemed to be thinning but there were still way too many for comfort.
Zombies! Page 7