Safe Zone (Book 2): The Descent

by Suzanne Sussex

  “Hope for the best and plan for the worst,” he muttered.

  Months ago when, he had made the decision to create an undead army, he had thought they would be a useful back-up plan, not the most fundamental part of the invasion.

  He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and peered through them. The zebs were still blindly following the carts out front, paying no attention to the convoy behind them in the distance.

  He smiled wickedly. Taunting them with fresh meat was working wonders.

  He spared no thought of sorrow or pity for the men and women tied, against their will, to the back of those carts. Brian didn’t know much about the zebs, but he figured they might be more eager to follow if they could smell the blood. So he ordered Gary and Matty to make a few slashes to the upper bodies of those being used as bait. Not enough so they would bleed out, but enough to create the smell of blood in the air.

  Brian did not consider that the treatment of these people was cruel. He saw it only as a necessary sacrifice by those involved. Besides, they were, by far, the weakest at the combat training, and at least this way they were playing an important role in the invasion. If they survived, he would personally thank them.

  He turned in his seat to look back at the crowds of zoners following his cart. Each would take their turn riding in the back of the handful of carts that followed the undead army. Regrettably, his living army would spend more of the journey on foot. He would allow them some rest overnight, but with no way of containing the zebs, it would need to be minimal. They needed to arrive shortly after the frontline troops and undead army.

  It was unfortunate and the major flaw in his plan. Most of his army were unfit and underfed. The miles they would need to walk might leave them too exhausted to fight. He hoped that adrenaline would kick in, but, in reality, all hope rested on the frontline, all of whom were in carts and should be reasonably well rested when they arrived.

  He would have liked to have been at the front of the procession, to ensure his orders were carried out. But with the unpredictable zebs so close, it was too dangerous for someone as important as Brian. He would just need to trust Gary to follow out his orders to the letter.

  Chapter Thirty

  The front of the procession kept a slow but steady pace as they travelled north. Even so, the group that had left Zone E had spread out over miles. Luca felt a sense of unease as he trudged on behind the carts.

  Sally’s decision to evacuate had been discussed and debated at length. They had all agreed that it was better to risk this journey than to face the inevitability of Brian's invasion. They also agreed that for the children, the elderly and the sick, evacuation would not be optional.

  The problem was everyone else.

  There were not enough people capable of fighting to protect both the zone and the evacuees. Sammie had argued that the zone was protected by two fences. The convoy would be completely exposed. Lex had countered that if the zone fell, it wouldn't matter if the convoy survived because they would have nowhere to come back to. Sally refused to force anyone to stay. She was adamant that fight or flight, the decision was for the individual to make.

  In the end, it was Joe that had offered the best solution. He would stay behind with most of his teams. The remainder would escort the evacuees.

  The evacuees that were fit and healthy would be expected to help protect the convoy. Anyone who volunteered to stay and fight would be trained by Joe and his men.

  When they had agreed that the nozos’ compound was the best destination to take the zoners, Luca immediately volunteered to lead the procession. Only he and Sammie knew the way. Despite her feeble protests, he had known that Sammie would want to stay and defend the zone and he used this as his reasoning for why it should be him. But in truth, the coming battle would be against his friends and neighbours. When it came to it, he was not sure he could take their lives.

  So now, he was at the head of a six-thousand-strong procession. Luca could only guess the reasoning people used when they made their decision. Neither option was particularly appetising. Fit and healthy people were expected to fight either way. It was just that the odds were more likely if they stayed in the zone.

  The mood started buoyant, roused by Sally's speech, but some still wept as they stepped out of the zones, clinging to friends and family members for comfort and support.

  Fear was evident in the eyes of many as they looked around in wonder, no doubt expecting to see zebs emerge from the overgrowth.

  But as the miles wore on, complacency overtook the fear. Excited conversation replaced the silence. Older people, who remembered life before the outbreak were reminded of what the UK had looked like, and shared their stories. Others, who had spent their entire lives in the zone, let out the occasional squeal or exclamation at something they witnessed along the route. It seemed, that with every step taken, the noise levels increased.

  “I don’t like this,” Luca blurted out suddenly.

  Tom nodded, “It’s getting too loud.”

  Before anything could be done, a scream rang out from behind them. They spun around, but the sheer numbers of people made it hard to know where the scream had come from.

  Tom blew the whistle hanging around his neck, the pre-agreed signal for the carts to stop. He turned to the group immediately behind him and ordered them to surround the carts. They did so immediately and without question. As part of the evacuation instructions, all who had chosen to leave had been told to find something from their homes that they could use as weapons.

  These were drawn and brandished, ready to use. A bizarre collection of household goods, knives, rolling bins, rakes, and brooms were just some of items Luca saw when he glanced around.

  The single scream had turned into many cries of alarm. Luca could see now that it was coming from around the middle of the group. He looked around and saw the reason for the panic.

  Zebs.

  Approaching from both sides were small clusters of zebs, clumsily making their way to the all-you-can eat buffet. Luca could hear shouted orders for people to remain calm, but these went unheeded as people shoved at each other to get out of the way.

  Had calmness reigned, had anyone remembered Sally's words or had Joe’s team been given an opportunity to do their job, the situation would have been handled with ease. But instead, it was a scene of pure and utter panic. Luca watched in horror as a woman was pushed from the crowd, knocking into one of the soldiers. They were both pushed off balance and fell in a clumsy heap of limbs.

  The zebs did not need an invitation, and with an inhuman groan the pair were launched upon. The screams as they died, went unheard over the noise of the crowd.

  People fled, breaking the line, many directly into the path of more zebs, and with others pushed to the floor and trampled on, panic turned into mayhem.

  It was pure carnage.

  With everything he had, Luca sprinted down the rows of people. Shouting orders as he passed, “Get your weapons, get to the carts.” He could hear Tom on the other side of the group doing the same.

  As he neared the epicentre of the panic, Luca drew his knife. He launched himself at the nearest zeb, tackling it to the ground then plunging the weapon into its temple. As he stood to find his next target, he was pushed roughly to one side, by someone desperate to get themselves out of harm’s way. He watched helplessly as that person tripped over his recent kill and was sent sprawling to the ground, only to be launched upon by the nearest zeb.

  Luca spun around in a circle, taking in the scene of fighting and screaming. He watched as the zebs attacked with no bias. Men, woman, children, it did not matter to the bloodthirsty ghouls. Each meal was as good as the next.

  For a moment, Luca was frozen. Disbelief that such a small handful of zebs could be the cause of this much horror. But then his survival instinct kicked in. He took in the area that was currently under attack, then looked back towards the rear of the convoy, still slowly approaching. Sprinting once more, he reached the trailing group and
ordered them to circumnavigate the battleground. To stay as silent as possible and do what they could to get to the carts at the front.

  He didn’t wait to see if they listened. Instead, he returned to the battle. The tide appeared to be turning as the volumes of people thinned out. It seemed that every one of Joe’s team was now fighting. Tom was frantically shouting orders that went unheard by Luca over the echoes of the carnage.

  Luca looked for the nearest zeb and ran towards it. He reached it just as it went to bite down on a small blonde haired child who was kicking it in the shins. He pushed it forcefully it away with his shoulder. Then ploughed his knife into the side of its head. It fell in a heap on the floor.

  The child looked up at Luca, “Did I get it?” she asked innocently.

  Luca smiled, “Yes you did, sweetie.”

  He got down on one knee and pointed towards the front of the procession, “Now I want you to run as fast as you can to those people over there. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  The little girl nodded enthusiastically and took off in a sprint. Luca did not watch her go, unwilling to witness whatever her fate may be. He turned towards the next zeb ready to attack.

  For what seemed like hours, Luca dodged and weaved, stabbed and kicked. The earliest victims of the attack that had died from their wounds were now rising to join the ranks of the undead. As his arms began to tire and the force in which he plunged his knife reduced, the battle became harder. The knife was no longer sharp. He could not apply enough force to penetrate the skull, and he was forced instead to go for the temples or the eyes, which made the combat arduous.

  Just as he felt he could not go on, after taking three attempts at stabbing a zeb, before finally killing it, he looked around for his next target, but he saw none. Instead he met Tom’s eyes, who nodded grimly at him.

  “It’s over,” the other man shouted.

  Luca returned the nod, then surveyed the scene.

  Thousands lay dead and wounded. Soft moans from those drawing their last few breaths. Sobs of agony from those who held their loved ones in their arms as their hearts stopped beating.

  Luca recognised the imminent threat, almost at the same time as Tom. The other man bellowed instructions for all survivors that had not been bitten to get to the carts. Many listened. Many did not.

  Tom called over to Luca, “You know what to do?”

  Luca nodded, his lips tightened in to a grimace. Priority was those who refused to leave the area, the ones who still clung to the dead and dying; those who had seemingly forgotten what would happen next.

  He approached a man holding a woman tightly. Her arm had almost been ripped away by the gnashing teeth of a zeb. The man was sobbing and rocking the woman. Begging her to wake up, giving her unheard reassurances that all would be well.

  Luca tapped him on the shoulder, “Sir, you need to let her go.”

  “No,” the man wailed and held her tighter.

  “She’s going to turn,” Luca said gently, but the man ignored him. “Sir,” he said more forcefully. Yet still the man wept and pleaded as though Luca was not there.

  Knowing he had no choice did not ease Luca's guilt as he forcefully prised the woman from the man’s clutches. He expected a fight, some resistance, but the man let go as though finally accepting her fate.

  “Say goodbye to her,” Luca suggested. He stood back and watched as the man gently kissed the woman and told her he loved her.

  “Please turn around, or close your eyes,” Luca said, “You know what I need to do?” he looked over at the man, who nodded, as his shoulders heaved with grief.

  “I know,” he wailed.

  Luca gently turned the woman over and pushed the knife in to the base of her skull. Her body went instantly limp and he knew that it was over. Raising to his feet, he nodded at the man, who fell back on his knees and held his wife once more.

  Similar scenes were being played out across the battleground. The groans of the undead, now replaced by moans from the survivors as they watched their loved ones die at the hands of Tom and his team.

  Yet there were so many fallen that had no bite marks or scratches from the undead legion. Instead, they had died from being trampled or suffocated by the throng. Some, Luca suspected as he plunged the ever-bluntening knife into temples or eyes, may have simply had a heart attack. Yet every corpse on the field received the same treatment, because no one was willing to take the risk that they would rise once more.

  As the grisly task drew to an end, a hush descended over the area as the survivors surveyed the scene. Bodies covered the ground as far as the eye could see. The spilled blood had turned the lush green grass into a dirty rotten mess.

  Luca walked over to Tom and his men, stepping over corpses, discarded weapons, dropped bags, all the while taking care not to trip over the obstacles or slip on the pools of blood.

  “Well, that was a royal fuck up,” Tom said angrily, as Luca reached him.

  Luca nodded sadly, “How many?” he asked, taking another look at the scene.

  “Dunno,” Tom shrugged, “Over a thousand maybe. We should take a body count, try to ID most of the victims. Their families back at the zone will want to know.”

  Desperate to be back on the road, Luca went to protest. Then an image of his father back at the compound sprung to mind. If Luca had died today, Robert would have wanted to know. To be left wondering would be awful. So, he nodded his agreement.

  Tom and his men herded all the survivors to the waiting carts and the people at the front of the convoy. He ordered people randomly from the crowds to set up a perimeter to protect those who remained, instructing everyone else to take this time to eat and drink, because they would not be stopping again until they reached their destination.

  Lex and other members of the medical team were busy seeing to the wounded. Occasionally calling out to one of Tom’s team to take someone away who had been bitten. They were given a brief moment to say goodbye to their loved ones, before being killed and laid to rest on the field of the dead.

  Most took their fate with grace and dignity. Some wailed and begged for their lives. Others fled into the undergrowth, only to be caught by pursuers. It was harsh and it was cruel, but it was necessary.

  The grisly task of identifying the victims, salvaging weapons and belongings that could be useful for others and taking a body count took hours. Before they could leave, Tom nominated a series of runners and gave strict instructions to the evacuees to tell these runners if they saw a threat. He made it clear that this tragedy could have been avoided if panic had not ensued.

  By the time the convoy moved out, the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. Leaving behind one thousand, eight hundred and thirty-one of their fallen, family, friends and neighbours.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When I was at school, I was told that the middle of a hurricane was called the eye. While the howling winds blow and destroy everything in its path, for the briefest of moments when you are in the eye of the storm, all is calm.

  That is what it feels like now.

  After the final stragglers of the band of evacuees had left the outer gates, we got to work. Sentries were posted around the perimeter. Each of the sentries was provided with a runner and a whistle. The whistle was to alert the other guards if a threat was spotted. The runner's job was to get to the inner gate with the news.

  For the first time ever, sentries were also posted at the inner gates. Again, each of these was given a whistle and a runner. But this time the role of the runners was to get back to the zone centre to warn the rest of us.

  Tensions were high throughout the day, everyone was jumpy as though the attack would arrive at any second. We were all alert with our weapons at hand. But as the day wore on, we began to relax. Surely no one would attack us in the afternoon.

  I'm wearing my utility belt, and my Dad's knife is safely tucked away, and every few minutes, almost without thinking, I give it a little pat, just to be sure it's still there. />
  Joe’s remaining team are dotted around the zone, each with a group of volunteers. Some of the groups are learning basic combat skills; others, archery.

  After my adventures of the past week, Sally insisted that I took the day off to rest and maybe get some sleep. But there is no way that I can relax, so I have been wandering around aimlessly, occasionally stopping as I pass a group of trainees.

  The combat lessons seem very basic, skills that I was taught very early on in my apprenticeship. A reminder of how to kill zebs, where the softest part of the skull is. The best angle to stab in the head to penetrate the brain. Pillowcases had been stuffed to make targets, faces haphazardly drawn on them to give some semblance of a personality. With limited resources, and there being only so much you could learn from stabbing a pillow, the lesson soon moves on to hand-to-hand combat.

  I watch as Simon instructs his group in grappling; how to take someone down and render them unconscious. It strikes me that they are being taught to be non-lethal. No doubt Sally’s plan to reduce unnecessary loss of life. After all these people have been blinded by Brian's lies, and they don't know what they are doing is wrong. Yet still, I don’t know how I feel about this. Yeah, our would-be attackers are being manipulated into thinking we are the enemy. But still, I doubt they will show us the same courtesy.

  Feeling sick to my stomach, I walk away. I can't watch this anymore. It’s like lambs being prepared for slaughter.

  I carry on wandering around the zone, checking out the activity underway all over the place. Barricades are being created between streets, furniture is dragged from houses and piled up to block side alleys. I guess this will make sure our attackers can't easily spread out around the zone if they get this far in.

  Looking around, I find that I have wandered towards my house. I see our faded sofa being dragged outside and I turn around and walk back to the centre. It’s too painful to watch our belongings being used in such a way.