by RR Haywood
As the ships near each other, Clarence grabs the tied on axe and stands back. With no choice as to the angle of approach the front of our vessel gets closer and closer to the rear section, knowing we’ll impact as drag alongside Clarence braces his feet and starts unwinding the rope and making sure nothing will tangle.
‘Almost there,’ Lani shouts to Nick. Seconds of baited breath pass then a heavy jolt and screech of metal as the front of the catamaran crumples from the solid metal side of the navy ship. Clarence holds for a second, waiting as the two vessels come together side by side and with no engine noise and no wind the sound of metal against metal is ear splittingly loud.
With a grunt, Clarence launches the axe up high and over the side of the lower middle section still ten feet above our heads. As soon as the axe lands with a clang he starts winding it back in. We watch and wait for the axe to catch but it appears over the top and drops back down. With a curse Clarence quickly winds it back in and launches it again. Pulling the rope it holds taut, he tugs a few times making the muscles in his arms bulge. The rope holds tight and I tie the end onto the metal safety railing of the top deck.
‘I’ll go first,’ Lani shouts, her pack already on her back. Hands free she climbs onto the top of railing and grabs the rope, showing her deft climbing skills as she quickly scales the rope and reaches the top of the ship, pulling herself up. She stares down into the hidden ships interior for a few seconds before straddling the side and looking back down.
‘You alright?’ I call up, concerned at her expression.
‘We got some company,’ she says, not too loud.
‘Oh…how many?’
‘Only a few.’
‘Really? Out here, bloody hell,’ nothing surprises me anymore. Dave, on hearing that there might be potential foes he can play with is up the rope like a rat down a pipe. On reaching the top he too stares down before straddling the top and looking at Lani before staring back down at us.
‘There’s more than a few isn’t there?’ I ask him. He nods once then motions towards the middle; at whatever sight we can’t see. ‘No Dave, you wait for us and don’t kill them before we get there.’ I can see he’s itching to make a start. ‘Lads, you go next.’ They scramble up, getting pulled by Dave and Lani as they reach the top. They too look down into the middle I still can’t see before glancing back down and somehow inching along to all remain straddling the edge of the side.
‘Just how many are down there?’ Clarence asks with concern at seeing them all perch precariously on the edge.
‘We’ll find out in a minute, you going next?’ I ask him.
‘I might break the rope,’ he mutters, ‘you should go.’
‘Get off; you ain't that heavy are you?’ I ask with a smile. He grins back and climbs up to take the rope and pull himself hand over hand to the top. His feet on the side of the ship walking up until he too gets to the top, looks down and then I see his bald head looking left, then right and finally he twists round to me with a huge grin.
‘Oh you’re going to love this boss.’ Taking the rope I pull myself up, feeling bad at poor Nick losing the ship he struggled so hard to get. It was a pity we couldn’t keep it for a bit longer and rest up though. Reaching the top Clarence leans down and decides to try and pull my arm away from my body by grabbing my wrist and lifting me up.
Reaching the top I glance down and see Dave reaching over and cutting the rope with his knife. With the tension released the white catamaran continues scraping slowly down the side of the ship, screeching metal against metal. Thick oily smoke pouring from the back.
‘I hope the tide pulls it away,’ I mutter quietly thinking that knowing our luck we’ll probably burn down the navy too. Then I turn to look to the interior of the ship. At the faces staring up. Drooling faces with red bloodshot eyes. Pale skin a deathly pallor, cuts and bite marks evident as limbs hang loosely down at sides. The fetid stench of decaying flesh from sailors still wearing dirty overalls and the navy blue colours of the…well the navy I guess. More than that, there are zombies in smart suits, ball gowns and dinner jackets. Waiters and chefs, chavs dressed in cheap sparkly night club outfits, bouncers in black suits. How the hell they all got onto a naval supply ship in the middle of the sea I don’t know. But what I do know is there is a lot of them, hundreds in fact. The middle area is packed deep and every single undead face is staring at us. A face off and no way of getting into the ships buildings without going through them. Dave has already drawn his knives. The lads have gripped their axes ready, Lani has her meat cleaver and Clarence is cracking his knuckles. We’re all grinning now. Grinning like the bloody idiots we are.
I’m telling you, slaying zombies is addictive. Very addictive.
‘Why are they all here?’ Cookey asks as we stare down at the massed horde.
‘They must have been brought out in boats when it started; probably thinking it was the safest place.’ I reply figuring it’s the only thing that makes sense and would explain the eclectic mix of personnel on board.
‘That went well then,’ Lani says abruptly getting looks of surprise from the rest of us, ‘what?’ she shrugs, ‘it’s true.’
‘Yeah, fair one. Right… which way we heading? It’s got to be into that structure at the back surely.’
‘Probably,’ Clarence nods staring round like the rest of us and trying to see any other ways into the ships hold or storage areas.
‘Blowers? You got any ideas?’
‘No Mr Howie, aim for the big building at the back like you said.’
‘Okay. Do any of them look like super zombies? Heads not lolling, not drooling, or maybe a fake zombie pretending to drool and loll it’s head.’ As ridiculous as the question is, they all respond seriously. Scanning the hundreds of faces and checking for any signs of one of them not being a normal daytime shuffler.
‘Dave? Anything?’
‘No Mr Howie, they all look the same.’
‘Okay, right well I guess we should crack on then. Bagsy I go first,’
‘Second,’ Dave adds with a lightning fast response with everyone else shouting “third” at the same time and arguing about who got it out quickest.
‘Ready Dave?’
‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he says and drops down to land in the middle of a batch of waiter dressed zombies. They seem almost surprise to see him there and it takes a fraction of a second for them to respond and turn into him. By which time he’s grinning like a maniac back at the rest of us while I shout he’s a cheating bastard and launch myself down. But it’s too late; Dave has started and drawn first blood. And second. And third. Possibly fourth and maybe I got fifth by the time gravity assisted me landing and I pulled the axe back and swung out muttering that he was unsporting and a cheat and the next time we went at a horde I wouldn’t warn him.
I hear Clarence laughing like a braying donkey again at the sight of Dave dropping down and beating us all to it. But then they all join in, dropping down and setting about the shufflers with unabated glee.
No precision or uniformity here. Just slaughter. My axe swings back and forth with both keen sharp edges slicing, chopping, cleaving and breaking bodies open. The shufflers don’t stand a chance and we move steadily deeper into their ranks. Nick, Blowers, Cookey and Tom shouting out the numbers of their kills with a competition.
‘Six…Seven….Eight,’ Blowers shouts in the lead, ‘Nine….Ha no ten now!’
‘Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three,’ Dave roars out from several metres away as he glides through the air with his blades whipping out slicing jugulars open and stabbing into chests.
‘You’re banned for cheating,’ I shout as a zombie in a ball gown with a heaving cleavage lunges at me with barred teeth and gets an axe to the face in response.
‘Twelve,’ Lani shouts in triumph.
‘Thirteen,’ Tom roars and adds another one as he lashes out decapitating a zombie.
The numbers are shouted as the competition heats up and I notice Blowers and Cookey ha
ve instinctively teamed up as normal, fighting side by side. Tom and Nick now doing the same, Clarence off by himself crushing skulls and Dave just getting warmed up as he spins, drops, leaps and kills with every lunge and twist. Lani stays close to me, just a few steps away and I watch the savage ferocity she uses. The meat cleaver is deadly in her hands, whipping out and slicing faces, necks and shoulders. Her amazing athletic ability really shows in close quarters as she bends and flexes, taking high steps like a dancer, planting her feet and using her body weight in the thrust and slash. Her face is alive, eyes determined. She uses her free hand to clutch the hair of an undead and force it down before she hacks into the neck. Letting go and moving off to drop down and swing the blade deep into the throat of the next one. She kicks back, impacting into the stomach of a woman undead lunging for her. One full turn and she’s on the still reeling body opening a hole in its stomach, intestines spilling out.
Watching Lani is like watching Dave. It’s beautiful, graceful and fluid. The rest of us are progressive and we kill as well as her, but it’s the way they do it. Art, beauty and grace. As the bodies drop I find a space round me and lean on my axe, watching between Lani and Dave dancing through them. Both of them warmed up now and spinning like some amazing act on a stage. Clarence glances over and catches me skiving, giving me a puzzled look. I nod towards the two in the centre of the open middle section of the ship. He quickly punches one zombie hard, breaking its neck and clearing the view as he watches what I see. He nods over at me, leaning his back against a wall and watching as mesmerised as me. The lads soon do the same as they realise Clarence and I are stood still and watching. Slowly, we shuffle back to the sides and let Lani and Dave work in a free space.
There are still good numbers of undead and we stand ready to step in, but really there is no need. They are like ballet dancers. Poetry in motion. Lithe bodies that are exactly where they need to be. Lani lacks Dave’s experience and strength but the symmetry of her body, the hair flowing and waving behind her more than makes up for that. As long as I draw breath on this earth I will never tire of watching Dave do this, and now with Lani doing something similar it is simply stunning. A spectacle never seen by humanity. Utter ruthless killers, relentless in their capacity for murder, devastating in their glory but simply breathe taking in their delivery.
‘Have you ever seen anything like that?’ I ask softly.
‘No,’ Clarence replies instantly, even his deep voice is full of awe.
‘Jesus, look at him,’ Tom whispers as Dave spots another solid group still shuffling towards him. He runs at them, long strides and launching himself high at the very last second. His feet push down into the faces of two, sending them toppling backwards and knocking several more over. Dave lands in the middle with one arm extended and the blade buried deep into the heart of one undead while his trailing arm extends behind him, again with the blade buried deep into a spinal column. He wrenches the blades out and stands upright, like at attention before spinning round and lashing his arms out. Three more fall with bright crimson sprays of blood spurting out in high arcs as their throats are cut. As we mere mortals watch the high spray he’s already gone round behind two more and drawn his blades across two more throats.
Then it’s over and the ground is once again littered with the broken bodies of the undead. Blood everywhere, bits of brain, bone and tendons glisten wetly in the soon. The metallic smell of blood mixes with the odour of decaying skin. Dave drops down and wipes his blades repeatedly on the clothing of the undead. Lani standing still and checking round sees their all down and turns to see us all staring at her and Dave. She smiles with a sudden intensity and locks eyes with me, making my heart skip a beat and my face flushes red.
‘Bloody hell Lani! That was fucking awesome!’ Cookey shouts with genuine amazement and walks towards her. The lads rush in congratulating the girl as she nods and smiles with humble thanks and wipes the sweat from her forehead.
Drinking water and washing the blood from our hands, taking care to use the anti-bacterial wipes on our skin we make our way carefully towards the superstructure at the back, stepping over corpses.
‘Here,’ Dave drops down quickly and reaches down to pull something from underneath a body. Holding the object between thumb and finger he holds his hands out, showing us the shiny brass casing of the bullet.
‘Someone got some rounds off then,’ Clarence scans about, toeing bodies out the way and spotting more casings on the floor. We thread our way towards the structure, examining the ground.
‘Here!’ Tom leans his arm in between a gap at the base of the crane structure, pulling an SA80 assault rifle out. Dave strides over and takes the weapon from him, snapping the magazine off and checking the weapon through.
‘Empty,’ he calls out, ‘emptied the magazine and I guess whoever had it ditched it and went for his sidearm instead of changing magazine.’
‘This would have been packed, just one of them bitten or infected and it would have been nuts. Must have been a soldier on guard or something,’ I look round imagining the scene of chaos unfolding at the infection spread from bite to bite, the screams and yells and the terror sweeping through.
‘Doors open,’ Clarence having taken a few steps closer to the structure spots the open door at the base and calls back. His axe gripped and ready in his hands.
‘It’s a big building,’ I say looking up at the structure, several stories high and no doubt with further levels underneath us too, ‘do we clear the lot or just go for what we need and get out.’
‘Get what we need and get out,’ Clarence advises, ‘we’ll be here for hours clearing it.’
‘How do we get out?’ Lani asks quickly.
‘Go for the orange lifeboats, they’ll have quick release mechanisms inside. They’ll slide down the frame and land in the water.’ Clarence explains.
‘Right, if it goes bent we go for them. Let’s go,’ I nod at the door and walk towards it. Dave shoulders the assault rifle and keeps one knife ready while the rest of us grip axes.
The cool interior is a relief after the strong direct sun on the deck of the ship and we proceed down a long corridor, Clarence out front and the rest of us trailing behind in a long line with Dave bringing up the rear. Dried blood is smeared everywhere, on the floor, the walls and even splashed onto the ceiling. Dead bodies lie here and there, dropped from shots to the chest and head. More bullet casings lead a breadcrumb trail into the ships interior. A frantic fire fight took place here, a retreating fire and manoeuvre possibly as the undead surged towards whoever was left alive and firing.
We reach the base of a set of stairs leading up and find more bodies stacked up with the butt of an assault rifle poking out from under the entwined limbs. Blowers pulls it out and uses the shirt tails from a downed undead to wipe the blood and filth away. Another SA80, the standard issue British military assault rifle and a weapon most of us are familiar with. Blowers quickly checks the gun and like the one found by Dave, he finds it empty.
‘Used as a bat,’ Blowers points to the dried bits of skull and matted hair on the butt of the weapon.
‘That’s two, just need some bullets now,’ I say quietly.
‘Hang on,’ Clarence shoves his foot into the pile of bodies and starts punting them aside, separating them. The few of us close enough help out, dragging the bodies apart looking for more weapons. A camouflaged soldier is at the bottom of the pile, the smell of decay mixed with shit and blood is almost too much and I notice a few of us try not to gag. Clarence bends down and grips the front of the soldiers’ thick shirt, lifting him bodily up from the ground.
‘Get the pistol,’ he says through gritted teeth while trying to face away from the stench. Tom reaches out and unclasps the utility belt round the dead soldiers’ waist, lifting the belt and the attached pistol away. Clarence drops the body and we retreat a few steps, Tom handing the belt to Dave who pulls the standard issue pistol out and finds it unused with a full magazine clip and two more full mag
azines on the belt.
‘They the same as ours?’ Cookey asks, even his normal jovial voice is quiet and restrained.
‘Yes,’ Dave answers. He checks the pistol through, sliding the top back and checking the moving parts before handing one magazine to Clarence and the other to me. We both pull our pistols from our belts and insert the magazines into the grips, sliding the tops back and making ready.
‘Yay we’re back,’ Cookey smiles, still quietly.
‘Not quite mate,’ I reply just as quietly, ‘we got one door there and stairs going up, which way?’
‘Go through the door, we should check down here before we go up,’ Dave replies.
‘Tom and Cookey take our axes, Dave up front with Clarence at the rear, I’ll go behind Dave,’ they nod back as the weapons are handed over. Dave slides his knife away and holds the pistol in a double handed grip as he stalks towards the door. I copy his actions and hold mine ready, lowered to the floor.
Reaching the door he checks my position before checking the door is open with his foot. No resistance and the door starts opening, he pushes it quickly and steps through, holding the pistol high and scanning all about. I step in behind him and check about. Another corridor leads off down the width of the ship. Doors to the left and right, all of them closed.
Dave motions he’s taking the left and I nod, stepping to the right and moving towards the first door. I figure he’ll want them done one at a time so I pause while he kicks the first one open and steps in; he’s back out within a second and nodding to me. I repeat his actions, kick the door and step in. A small office with a desk, a computer, charts and folders scattered everywhere, bloody handprints smeared about.
Gradually, one at a time, the rooms are all cleared. Left, right, left, right and we make progress. The rooms are all office space, desks and computers, charts, folders, paperwork. We find one more body in a room; a uniformed naval person slumped on the floor with a bullet wound to the head, the pistol laying just inches away from his open hand. Clear suicide and we retrieve the pistol, passing it to Blowers who clears and checks the weapon.