by David Whaley
“Alpha Oscar?” said Natalie. “Alpha Oscar!”
“… Help! Bow!” said the familiar voice of the female operator, sounding frightened and in pain, no longer able to respond.
Natalie had to look at the gazetteer on the MDT to plan a route to the Bow communications centre, where the operators were based, and made her way to investigate whilst making the most of the horse power contained within the bonnet of her improved choice of vehicle, arriving soon after.
She emerged from the car and stood at the foot of the few steps leading to the front entrance, able to see the length of the corridor.
In the foreground of her vision, just beyond the open entrance doors, were the security barriers where the security guards, no longer present, would encourage a person to empty their pockets into a tray before walking them through a metal detecting archway searching for any prohibited articles. Beyond that, was a bare corridor that was once lit by many fluorescent lights, had only one left flickering on and off in a slow strobe lighting effect.
Natalie walked through the barriers, a loud bleeping sound echoing throughout the hall causing her to stand still and hold her breath. She listened for any sounds of movement that had become familiar with the difference between the shuffle of the undead and the footsteps of the living. Nothing was heard.
The bleeping stopped after a few seconds and Natalie continued forward, walking along the hallway past various doors, some open and others closed, as she searched for the control room armed with her CS spray in one hand and her torch in the other.
At the end of the corridor was a sharp right turn immediately leading up a flight of stairs. A sign to the side with an arrow pointing up read: control room.
She ascended the stairs to be met by a solid door with a warrant card swipe entry system; her only hope that her warrant card was activated to work at the site. Beside the door was a whiteboard with a list of names and the correct date, presumably the days working roster, with the word ‘sick’ written beside most of the twenty two employees and the word ‘unknown’ written beside some others. According to this rota, only three were actually working, all of whom were on extended shifts as it was.
Natalie swiped her warrant card with her torch tucked under her arm but her CS spray, and current choice of defence, still readied.
To her relief, the door clicked open and Natalie pushed it open ajar, stopping briefly due to the soft feeling underfoot. An ear laid on the floor surrounded by a small pool of blood that grew bigger on the other side of the door as she pushed it open fully.
In the background, plastered against the rear wall, were large LCD monitors of live CCTV footage from around Lakeford and neighbouring boroughs, although some were not working. Multiple desks were joined together to form three rows, all of which were topped with computer terminals.
It’s the four zombies that stood a few feet away that unsettled Natalie, two of which were facing her and the other two looking away only to turn as their associates raised their arms to claw at her whilst letting out a harsh groan.
Natalie responded to the four zombies fixated and approaching her, without a thought of her own wellbeing, by spraying her CS canister horizontally across each of her opponents, emptying the contents in its entirety. They didn’t react to the incapacitating substance as would normally be expected. Less could be said for Natalie as she was immediately affected by the splash back caused by her own actions.
Her eyes felt as though someone had them in each fist and was squeezing really hard whilst her nose was uncontrollable with snot running down her philtrum and into her mouth combined with her tears tasting both salty and slimy. In her throat, she had a sharp scratching sensation and with all these effects taking over her sense of sight, smell and taste she refused the overwhelming urge to rub her face reminded by the instructions she gave all CS victims; the effects are only temporary, don’t rub your eyes, look into the wind. However, there was no wind within the building.
Natalie backed towards the stairs, still blinded, as the undead had reached the threshold of the doorway and she turned enough in a guess that she was facing the right direction whilst fumbling with a foot to locate the first step to start her descent as quickly as possible. This took time but her predators were just as slow.
She found the first step and gripped the handrail tight. Quarter of the way down. Halfway there. Not many steps left.
At that point, she lost her footing, not helped by something large hitting her in the back, and fell the remaining steps hitting the floor at the base that sent a sharp pain through her shoulder and back. Her stab vest did cushion the fall but only slightly.
That was the least of her worries as, lying on top of her, the hideousness mere centimetres from her face was that of a zombie that had fallen not yet a master of the functionality of the stairs. Its mouth was open with skin from its face peeling and hanging towards her, the smell burning her nostrils overpowering the CS effects.
Natalie struggled to break free, delivering some elbow strikes to its face occasionally. In the background, two of the zombies were shuffling down the stairs soon to follow suit and take a tumble where she would then be fighting off three of the bastard dead. The fourth just seemed to look down from the top, standing still, moaning and watching its cohort’s progress.
She continued her struggle and upon noticing a previously unseen zombie approaching along the corridor, likely to be from one of the open offices on the ground floor she had passed, increased her sense of danger thus increasing her adrenaline fuelled defence mechanism that all humans possess.
Natalie went into overdrive, giving her that bit of extra strength she needed. She pushed and rolled simultaneously providing enough room to manoeuvre and was free from the clutches of the undead although, still partially blinded by the CS spray.
She blinked her eyes furiously and with a moment of clarity, saw three more approaching zombies from the direction of the exit she needed to reach to make good her escape. Well that rules that route out, she thought.
The zombie that had been on top of her started to get up and she gave it a swift kick to the abdomen embedding a boot print into its stomach as it rolled away unphased by any form of pain.
The extra produced adrenaline continued to do its job, fight or flight, and masked the pain in her lower back and shoulder. She knew she would feel it later if she could find a way out of the this situation.
The effects of the CS were slowly subsiding and she looked back up towards the control room seeing the two zombies finally fall down the stairs towards her. She sidestepped to avoid being trapped once again, the leader of the pack still at the top watching on. That way is no good either, she thought as another two zombies emerged from the control room.
Her only option was to make a run through the zombies in the corridor hoping that she could build up enough force to get to the exit and to final freedom.
She prepared her run up only to be interrupted by an authoritative voice coming from the direction she intended to run at who she previously hadn’t seen.
“Armed police, get down!”
Natalie didn’t try and identify the source of the voice, but knew it belonged to a male, and hit the floor almost as hard as her recent fall.
She knew exactly what to expect next as his footsteps approached toward her followed by four shots fired from his firearm, congealed blood spatter hit the ground around her.
A strong hand took hold of her arm, helping her up and onto her feet when another shot was fired from his black handgun that she recognised as being a standard issue semi-automatic Glock pistol firing 19mm parabellum bullets.
Its victim fell to the floor as she noticed the other four with holes at different points in their head. Severe head trauma alright, she thought.
Natalie turned to her rescuer to see a six foot, athletic man wearing blue jeans and a polo shirt with a holster strapped to his thigh. She also noticed the secondary firearm attached by a shoulder strap that hung lazily across his
body; an MP5 semi-automatic carbine filter with an EO tech holographic sight that, last she knew, also fired 19mm parabellum bullets.
“Wait here,” said the firearms officer.
He released Natalie’s arm and walked towards the turning for the stairs as the two zombies that fell rose to their feet. The firearms officer buried two bullets into their dead brains and turned to face the one still standing at the top by the control room doors and the two standing by its side. A single well aimed shot rendered the overseer well and truly dead and another two bullets dealt with the others.
“C’mon, let’s go. There’s bound to be more here somewhere,” said the firearms officer ushering Natalie out of the door too relieved to reply.
They climbed into his black unmarked BMW X5 leaving her smaller BMW behind, the firearms officer putting his MP5 carbine in the back seat as opposed to the lock box in the boot and replaced the Glock into his thigh holster.
“We need to stick together if we’re going to survive this. I’m Leon Saber. An AFO if you hadn’t already guessed,” he said as he lit a cigarette, assuming that the smoking ban, which included work vehicles, was the least of their worries. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not,” said Natalie. “How did you know someone would be here?”
“Well, since the rest of the AFO’s ‘turned,’ I went back to our base and stocked up and selected this car. Not before killing some zombie bastard’s that had taken over,” said Leon. “I then changed through different radio channels and called up on each but nobody replied. I got to your channel in time to hear the scream and you reply. So, I assumed you would be heading this way.”
“Lucky for me that you had,” said Natalie.
“The worrying thing is though, that I changed to some county channels and also got no response,” said Leon with a fearful expression on his face. “It can only mean one thing.”
They looked at each other, their thoughts in sync; the fall of the police service.
Chapter 10
Natalie got onto the radio and, like Leon had before, called over various county force channels, the only reply being silence, similarly to Leon.
“Come on. There must be another copper out there somewhere,” said Natalie. “We’re going to have to repeat this periodically until we get a response.”
“Agreed,” said Leon.
Leon continued driving along the outskirts of Lakeford, a dual carriageway with intermittent traffic signals of which, the set ahead of him, was green indicating for him to continue as he approached the junction. However, as he crossed the solid white lines a vehicle travelling from their right hand side whizzed across their path just fast enough to avoid a collision.
“You fuckers,” said Leon
“Survivors?” said Natalie.
Leon span the car around, avoiding numerous abandoned vehicles as he used his handbrake to do so, and they set off after the vehicle seeing only that it was a 4x4 and that it was gaining distance from them.
During their close encounter with the 4x4, they were only able to tell that there were two male occupants including the driver which contradicted the search that Natalie had conducted on PNC using the MDT, which showed that there should have been a female driving. The 4x4 was shown as being a Range Rover Sport which tallied up with the vehicle before them.
Leon gathered speed after the Range Rover turning on the blue lights that were built into the front grill and rear brake lights also turning on the sirens that would deafen anyone nearby. However, there were no people apparent until movement could be seen in the alleyways between buildings and from behind bushes. They had gained the attention of the undead. Maybe it would be safer to ignore the Range Rover and continue on the dual carriageway, Natalie thought.
They were soon headed into the heart of Lakeford, Leon gaining on the suspect vehicle, and were then close enough to smell the expelled burnt diesel fumes and burning rubber
Leon expertly pursued the Range Rover through wide and narrow city streets, the police equipment having no effect in slowing them down.
“Why are they still driving? We’re the police even if it is pointless,” said Natalie.
“No idea,” said Leon. “They are either scared or stupid to be driving like that.”
They both winced as the Range Rover turned a corner and sideswiped a lamp post, continuing to gather speed up the road.
***
“Why the hell are the police chasing us?” asked Marcus.
“How should I know?” replied Devlin. “All I know is that this is a stolen car and we have killed a bunch of people, zombified or not.”
“Let’s just stop. I’m sure they’ll understand if we-.”
“Marcus, there’s nothing to understand. Look at what’s happened so far. This shit ain’t right. We’re on our own. You think the police can protect us now? Besides, I’m having fun.”
Marcus replied with only a frown, his civilian life having reinstalled the emotions he lost while serving in the British army; not because they forced him to toughen up, but because he had to. A moment with your feelings is a life lost, he always said, and maybe it was time to get back to that way of thinking, he thought.
Devlin threw the Range rover around another corner, failing to lose their pursuers who were handling their vehicle better than he was.
The Range rover sideswiped another lamp post and ploughed through a zombie standing in the road.
“Die zombie scum,” said Devlin.
***
With that last mistake from the bandit vehicle, Leon was able to gain considerable ground on the Range rover where he considered using a tactic that was rarely, to never, used as an option for the UK police. This tactic was known as, ‘the pit manoeuvre.’ We’ve got to stop them, Leon thought.
He positioned the front of his vehicle to their rear offside and turned the steering wheel left sending the 4x4 into a spin only coming to a stop when its rear end crashed into a parked car at the side of the road.
Leon successfully prevented his own car from spinning and positioned it so the suspects were blocked in, front and back, utilising the parked car.
Natalie watched on from the passenger seat of the BMW whilst Leon decamped, firearm drawn and pointed at the windscreen of the opponents’ car just as the drivers door opened.
Leon circled around and confronted the driver.
“Armed police. I only want to talk,” said Leon replacing the Glock in its holster.
“You only want to talk? A bit extreme don’t you think? Whatever, I’m Devlin,” he said as he stepped out of the car.
Meanwhile, the passengers’ door also opened and Marcus got out, relieved that all that was required was a chat.
“You gave us a bit of a fright there officer,” said Marcus making light of the situation.
“Speak for yourself there mate. I was enjoying myself,” smiled Devlin.
Natalie was dumbfounded at the sight of the person that had emerged from the Range rover and that they had in fact been chasing her ex partner.
She slowly opened her door and stepped out as Marcus looked over with amazement to see Natalie.
They both stood briefly staring at each other, each feeling their tears encroach down their face coupled with the tickly feeling in the back of their throats before running at each other and hugging, tightly, neither wanting to let go.
“I missed you,” whispered Marcus.
“I missed you too,” she muttered back.
“I hate to break up this little reunion, but shouldn’t we get off the road?” asked Devlin.
“He’s right. I know a place about five miles from here,” suggested Leon.
They all left in the BMW, Leon driving, where they filled each other in on Marcus and Devlins arrival to the UK, the happenings at Lakeford police station and the weapons Leon had contained in the various lock boxes around the car, mainly in the boot.
Leon parked at the front of their destination, Devlin with his own views on the chosen �
�safe place.’
“A fucking church? You serious?” said Devlin as he took a step onto the pavement. “Let me guess. Your God is gonna protect us?”
“Hey!” shouted Leon outraged. “This is as good a place as any. Besides, it seemed appropriate under the circumstances.”
“I agree. Let’s just go inside. Maybe you’ll burn up… with any luck,” said Natalie.
Natalie was already sick of Devlins attitude, as was Leon, whereas Marcus had grown accustomed, used to his way of life as well as his thinking and the ways in which he chose to express himself. Natalie settled on her conclusions that he was hempy.
“Relax. I was joking,” said Devlin.
The quartet approached the path that led to the old oak door to the side of the building where Marcus and Natalie stood a moment to appreciate the house of God, Leon and Devlin continuing on ahead.
Before them stood the church tower, similar to a castles structure, circular in design with narrow slits that Natalie assumed were to aid in its defence from centuries ago. The windows, wider, but almost as narrow, were a visual representation of architectural genius shaped in an overturned coat of arms with various symbols surrounding it that were the virtue of history and faith. At the top of the tower were large metal grills that once housed, or perhaps still did, the bell that rang through many celebrations and events of mourning. The brickwork was of mismatched stone, as was the rest of the building, further adding to the historic ambience.
“You coming or what?” shouted Devlin from the entrance of the church.
“Yeah, we’re coming,” replied Marcus. “Ignore him, Natalie. He did bring me here after all.”
“I suppose. For that I am grateful.”
Marcus and Natalie completed the route that the path guided them in and entered the place of worship, the moonlight faintly shining through the stained glass windows that reflected against the interior stone floors and varnished wooden pews that lined the room, two columns in the centre with a carpeted aisle in between. The light was colourful and almost formed an exact replica of the Virgin Mary onto the furniture.