by RR Haywood
Her ears strained as she heard the dog growling and snarling, the sounds of bodies being dragged over broken glass. No further sounds from inside the house and she wept with tears of fear and relief when the first tender rays of sunlight started to pour into the room.
On checking the view she stood rooted to the spot, staggered by the sheer numbers of cadavers littering the street. Two, three deep in places. The blood and gore was indescribable. Nothing on earth could prepare her for that sight and one which would stay with her until her dying day. Bodies twisted and mangled, hacked apart by teeth, flesh torn and gnashed and the dog stood on the path ready for more.
A sudden feeling of guilt. She had left the defence of her family to this one poor animal and looking down she saw the water bucket was knocked over and dry. She quickly re-filled it and lowered it down, seeing the dog wag its tail as it hurried to quench its thirst. She called down many thank-you’s to the dog, telling it she would never forget what it had done.
The dog had saved them. Given them a chance of survival. She took that chance and quickly gathered the essentials into the three bags and after rousing her sleeping son she dragged them down the stairs and out the back door, crossing the garden and finding the car safe in the back lane.
She didn’t heed the law of child seats and shoved the bags and children into the vehicle, desperate to be inside and moving.
Reversing out of her lane she thought about the dog, how she wanted to take it with her. But surely it must turn. It must have been injured and the blood must have got into its system. But it was still normal, seemingly unaffected.
She drove to the end of the lane and pulled out onto her street. The bodies were less here and she paused, looking down the road and watching as the dog came into view.
The dog slept for a few minutes before hearing the noises coming from inside the house. She heard the little ones waking up and the hurried movements as they went from the top to the back of the house. She heard the sound of one of the big things and then listened as it came closer. Rising up on her exhausted legs she walked down the path and over the bodies to stare down the street at the big thing parked at the end. The woman was sat inside. The little ones must be with her. The big thing was hard and moved faster than she could run. They could get away and find a new den with the big thing. She understood this and sat down.
The woman made noise from the big thing, she waved her arm and then the big thing moved away. She watched and listened until it was gone from both sight and hearing.
She went back to the water bucket and drank again. She sat next to the water bucket and cleaned herself, removing the blood and gore from her coat. She walked from the street and kept walking until she found soft ground covered in trees. She moved through the soft ground, pleased to be rid of the stench of the things.
She found bushes and pushed her way inside. She made the ground flat and lay down.
She slept.
TWELVE
DAY ELEVEN
‘Ha, now that is a nice sight!’ I call out as Clarence, Dave and I walk back to our area and see the Saxon parked outside, the doors open and our kit being loaded. Nick stands in the central hole cleaning the GPMG with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
‘She’s back Mr Howie,’ Blowers steps out from the rear and greets us with a big smile.
‘She’s part of the team,’ I reply and move round to peer into the back, at the bench seats and cupboards. The memories are strong and stir a reaction within my stomach and again I give thoughts to the lads we lost.
‘There’s still bits of zombie brain on the front, it’s all dried on and stuck,’ Cookey winces with a disgusted face.
‘Nice,’ I wince back, ‘can’t we hose it off or something?’
‘Tom’s gone to find a stiff brush, water ain’t shifting it.’
‘Oh well, don’t worry too much, I’m sure we’ll be adding some more on there soon.’
‘I fucking hope so,’ Nick mutters from the top.
‘Language,’ Dave immediately chides him.
‘Sorry Dave, I meant I jolly well hope so,’ he smiles down, his face twisted to one side so the smoke doesn’t go in his eyes.
‘So if Dave is like the sergeant and Mr Howie the officer then what about Clarence? Is he a grunt like us?’ Cookey says with a wicked grin and starts backing away from the glare sent his way from the big man.
‘What did you say?’ Clarence growls.
‘Ha, you might be a big man but can you run?’ Cookey dares him with a laugh and yelps as Clarence moves faster than anyone of us expected. Cookey tries to sprint off but is caught within a few easy strides and gets pinned to the floor as Clarence calls for the hose.
‘I’ll get it,’ Blowers says laughing and runs round the front to pull it free.
‘No…I was joking…no…Blowers don’t you dare,’ Cookey yells between laughing as Clarence pins him down.
‘Ever heard of water boarding?’ Clarence asks with a chuckle. Tom walks back with a brush and stops at the sight of Cookey pinned and the rest of us laughing.
‘Blowers don’t you dare,’ Cookey yelps as the cold water starts sloshing his face with Blowers taking care not to aim directly for his mouth, ‘you fucker…I thought we were mates.’
‘Hold him Clarence,’ Nicks shouts down.
‘He’s a wriggler,’ Clarence laughs at Cookey bucking about and giggling between splutters.
‘Lads,’ Dave’s voice cuts through the laughter. Clarence glances up and his face drops instantly at the sight of the crowds of people in the camp standing and staring at the horseplay. Cookey bends his neck up and looks about, the giggling dying off quickly as Blowers pulls the hose back.
I turn round to see the glum faces watching us. A few smiles here and there but mostly downcast people clearly thinking how we can piss about at such a time.
‘Sorry,’ Clarence says loud enough for most to hear him. He extends a hand and helps Cookey to his feet who wipes his face and nods respectfully at the people watching.
‘Me too, I didn’t mean to cause any offence,’ he says earnestly.
‘Let’s get loaded,’ I say and turn back towards the Saxon with a mixed reaction of feeling bad about the lads laughing and joking when everyone has lost so much, but then we’ve lost too. We’ve all lost someone. We’ve seen our mates die by our side. I shot one of our team just a couple of nights ago. They’ve got the right to blow off a little steam especially after everything they’ve been through, but maybe not here.
‘Mr Howie, can we get some tools to carry? Wire cutters and strippers, set of drivers? That kind of thing?’ Nick asks pulling me away from my thoughts.
‘See that woman,’ I point to Kelly stood talking outside the police office, ‘she’s in charge of the engineering here now, go and ask her for what you need.’
‘On it,’ Nick drops down and scuttles out the back, jogging away towards the woman.
‘Nick,’ I call after him.
‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he stops and looks back.
‘Politely with no swearing.’
‘Of course Mr Howie,’ he grins and starts off again.
‘We’ve sorted the spare rifles and ammunition out; we got them down to the armoury while you were in your meeting. The other GPMG is down there too,’ Blowers explains as he hands my kit bag and axe over.
‘Well done mate, good work.’
‘Lani got all our bags loaded with full clips and water bottles. She stuck some snack food in them too. The shotguns I put in the Saxon, I didn’t want to give them up to the armoury but I figured we’ve got enough kit with the assault rifles, pistols and hand weapons.’
‘We checked our radios too and Nick got them onto the same frequency as they’re using here.’
‘Good work Blowers,’ Dave adds one of his rare compliments making the hard faced youth smile.
‘Cheers Dave,’ he replies.
‘What’s he grinning about?’ Clarence says at the sight of Nick running back hol
ding a small bag in his hands.
‘You got some stuff then?’ I ask.
‘Fucking right I did,’ Nick grins, ‘shit, sorry Dave,’ he adds quietly, ‘I didn’t swear when I asked her,’ he says quickly.
‘Okay mate, what did you get?’
‘She gave me her own tool kit! Can you believe it! It’s got like everything in it, snips, wire cutters, drivers…everything…here look at this.’ He drops down and starts pulling rubber handled things out of the bag. Tom and Clarence both kneel down and admire the collection of tools which he shows of proudly.
‘And she said this was her own kit, she said it was a gift for everything we’ve done for everyone. She’s so cool,’ Nick says quickly.
‘You’ve done well mate,’ Clarence pats him manfully on the shoulder, almost sprawling him into the ground but he still grins up reminding me just how young these lads are.
‘So we know where you’ll be working if we ever get time back at the fort,’ I say with a smile.
‘Yeah bloody right…er…if that’s okay with you Mr Howie, I’m with this team first though,’ he says with a sudden seriousness.
‘Right, everyone here? Gather round…we’re going for the local hospitals for supplies. They’ve got lists prepared for things they need. Hospitals, chemists…and no doubt a million other things too. We’ll be taking others out with us in vans to bring the stuff back. Our job is to find the place and make it safe. We go point and secure the area then guard while they get loaded up. We need to stay focussed and work together. This will be fluid and not only have we got each other to watch but others too. Ted said he’s sending people with weapons experience but that’s out job. We keep them safe, get them in and out and get the stuff back here. Got it?’ They nod back, intense looks and taking the information in.
‘Nick, show Tom how to use the GPMG and then he’s on it first, that okay with you Tom?’
‘No problem Mr Howie,’ he nods seriously.
‘Dave, if we get somewhere that needs inside clearance that will be down to you to lead, do you want to run through the hand signals you showed me before?’ I ask him, remembering back at the farmyard when he was waving his hands at me.
‘Listen in,’ he barks, ‘this means hold,’ he makes a clenched fist and holds it up next to his head, ‘if I extend one finger and point in a given direction it means there is one target in that direction, clear? Good. Two fingers means two targets and so on. An open hand being closed and opened means multiple targets. Watch for the points to see where they will be. If there is no point then it means I don’t know where they are. I prefer pistols in confined spaces and room clearance. Two handed grip like this,’ he pulls his pistol out and grips it with both hands, ‘sweep and keep the pistol pointing where you are looking. Step surely and if you see a subject then fire twice, a double tap. We’ll practise today as we go round. Each of you will work with me in turn, got it?’ They stare back in awe at his instructions, ‘now if I make a motion like this,’ Dave opens his hand and dribbles an imaginary basketball, ‘that means go low, if the hand is down and to the side it’s an instruction to do something. Two people go that way, two go this way, one to hold here…understand? Watch Clarence, he knows this as well as I do so follow his instruction too.’ He finishes off and looks to me.
‘Done, right, load up,’ I clamber into the driver’s seat and give a slight smile at being back inside the vehicle. Clarence comes up front with me, taking the passenger seat which makes sense instead of being crammed into the back.
‘Alright boss,’ he smiles, ‘that was an interesting meeting.’
‘Yeah,’ I agree and start the engine. She fires up first time with a loud roar that elicits a low cheer from Blowers, Nick and Cookey.
‘Who was that bloke asking about the religious stuff?’ I ask gently pulling away.
‘No idea, I see where he’s coming from but maybe his timing was a bit out.’
‘Really? I don’t see where he’s coming from. Religion is a pain in the arse.’
‘You think?’ He asks, ‘religion or faith?’
‘I’ve got no issue with faith, but religion? I don’t know…just makes me uncomfortable. I think it’s divisive.’
‘Chris is no fool, despite what he looks like the bloke is an amazing diplomat.’
‘Oh no doubt, maybe I shouldn’t have sounded off then.’
‘You’ve got every right to say what you said, you more than anyone boss.’
‘Aye, well…here we are,’ I change the subject as we reach the inner gates and wait as they’re pulled open. We trundle through straight through the already open outer gates. Ted standing there in full uniform complete with police flat cap, Sergeant Hopewell stood next to him holding her beloved clipboard and also wearing a hat.
‘Good work,’ Clarence mutters at the sight of them. I know what he means, just the sight of the uniformed officers gives a sense of control and organisation and I notice Ted now has a pistol strapped to his belt. Three large vans are parked off to one side, the drivers and guards armed with shotguns standing nearby.
‘Two minutes,’ I call out and jump down from the vehicle, ‘Ted, we all set?’
‘Yes, we’ve got a driver and two guards for each van. The guards will help load up.’
‘Okay, can I speak to them quickly?’
‘By all means,’ he leads me over and introduces me to the group. I recognise most of the faces from the fort, men that have survived the battle.
‘Right, we’ll be out front in our vehicle. If we get a contact just stay in your vehicles and we’ll do our best to sort it. We’ve got the GPMG up there,’ I point to Tom standing through the hole in the Saxon, ‘so we’ll cut down most things. When we get to our destination, we’ll secure the area and start clearing inside. Once clear we’ll form a guard while you load up, it’ll be fluid so we’ll see how it goes and adapt as we go along, everyone okay with that?’ I get a round of nods and replies of “yes” and “yes Mr Howie” which still makes me feel weird.
‘Howie, this is the map of the local area. The route to the hospital is marked in red,’ Sergeant Hopewell hands me a local map book.
‘This route goes north, wouldn’t Portsmouth be closer?’
‘We worked on the basis that it’ll be looted by now, big city and all that.’
‘Those buggers would have looted it the first day’ Ted moans.
‘Oi, I’m from Portsmouth,’ one of the guards grins.
‘I bloody know you are Pete, my point exactly,’ Ted retorts to a chuckle from Pete.
‘You nicked me enough times to know that Ted,’ Pete quips back to my amazement, Ted sees my look and cuts in quickly.
‘Pete’s a good lad, just had sticky fingers in his day. He got me out the shit once though. Remember that Pete?’
‘I do Ted, that was a bad night.’
‘What happened?’ I can’t help but ask and I can see the others are looking with interest.
‘Pub fight, first on the scene and the crowd turned on me,’ Pete says with a glint in his eye, ‘then Pete here steps out and stands back to back with me until help arrived.’
‘Bloody hell,’ I say.
‘He was on bail at the time too, I’d nicked him just a few days before,’ Ted adds.
‘You were decent though Ted,’ Pete says seriously, ‘always decent every time you dealt with me and I wasn’t gonna stand by and let you get cut up.’
‘Finished reminiscing have we?’ Sergeant Hopewell joins us, flicking through the papers on her clipboard, ‘have we got everyone’s details? Howie how about your lot, are they recorded anywhere?’
‘Recorded? What for?’
‘We keep records of everyone coming in and going out. Give me five minutes and I’ll get everyone’s names and details,’ she rushes off towards the Saxon.
‘It’s frantic now,’ Ted explains, ‘but with more people turning up every day we got to keep track of everyone. It helps when people ask if we’ve heard or seen from so and
so.’
‘Yeah, figures.’
Five minutes later and we’re pulling out down the lane heading towards the housing estate with the vans tucked in behind us.
Passing through the estate now in the daytime we can see the mounds of bodies piled up. Grotesque human remains all twisted and broken, human and zombie shoved away from the fort and ready to be burnt.
‘We need a theme tune,’ Cookey says suddenly, breaking the uneasy silence.
‘Have we got a sound system then?’ Lani asks.
‘We got the loudspeaker system, could rig something up to it easy enough,’ Nick replies.
‘Ride of the Valkyries,’ Clarence says twisting round to look down the back.
‘What’s that?’ Cookey asks.
‘Wagner,’ Dave says.
‘What’s that!’ Clarence scoffs, ‘the Para’s song is what that is.’
‘Hmmm, I think we need something more modern,’ Cookey muses with a sly grin.
‘Modern,’ Clarence tuts.
‘Barbie Girl?’ Nick offers to a few chuckles.
‘Yeah I can see us blasting out Barbie Girl as we thunder into action,’ Blowers says.
‘How about the music from the Old Spice advert?’ Tom shouts down.
‘Carmina Burana,’ Dave adds.
‘Yeah that one,’ Tom shouts.
‘Nah that’s old, we need something modern and good,’ Cookey shouts up.
‘Bonkers by Dizzee Rascal,’ Nick offers again.
‘Nope, got to be something tough, like the music from Rocky or something,’ Cookey replies.
‘Eye of the tiger,’ Dave says.
‘What about Metallica, the opening bit from Sad but True?’ Tom shouts.
‘That’s more like it,’ Cookey grins.
‘Paradise City?’ Lani adds.
‘Guns N Roses,’ Dave says.
‘Classic,’ Blowers says.
‘I know…’ Lani laughs, ‘Missy Elliott…We Run This.’
‘Oh yes!’ Cookey shouts, ‘that’s it. It’s perfect…blasting into battle, we run this shit!’