by RR Haywood
The fence vibrates as the bodies slam into it on the other side. We hold our position. The axe chopping down anything that comes through the hole.
‘THE TOP,’ Dave bellows as an undead launches itself from the top of the fence, the trellis crashing down with the weight of the zombies climbing up it. More bodies fall down our side. Dave and the dog moving quickly between them, killing them swiftly as I focus on the hole in the fence.
She is amazing. So quick and agile yet her strength is awesome. Days of doing this have honed her killing skill to perfection. If Dave came back as an animal he would be that dog. Swift and brutal.
She leaps between them, using her weight to slam them down and tear at their throats. If they withstand the weight of her body ramming into them she goes straight for the neck anyway. Shaking her neck and ragging them about the garden. Fully grown adults being tossed about like dolls. For once something other than Dave mesmerises me.
I slam my axe down, killing another one. The hole is now blocked by bodies. But the fence is shaking violently as the press of bodies from the other side slam and slam into it.
The fence starts to come down, slowly creaking with a loud splintering sound. I sprint across the lawn, swinging the axe into the next fence which thankfully is the cheap thin feather-board variety. The axes bites through the thin panels and I kick the rest away as Dave and the dog kill the things as they drop down onto the lawn.
The sturdy fence comes down, the first couple of ranks of the undead toppling over with it. We scoot through the hole of the next fence and keep going for the next one, Dave and I charge it bodily, our combined weight smashing clean through the middle of one panel. We both fall from the charge but we’re through. We glance back as the undead regain their feet from the falling first fence and start charging across. Several of the next panels splinter and fall as they press home their attack but we’re already off, charging across the garden and turning our shoulders into the middle of the next panel.
We burst through the fence, the dog charging back at the things and taking one down before running back to join us. Dave and I keep going, intent on making as much distance as possible between us and them.
The next fence panel goes down, pain in my shoulder from the impact but no damage as I can still move my arm as we sprint across for the next one. The undead are roaring and howling, a sickening sound that just drives us on faster. We hit the next fence at the same time as they impact on the one behind us. Two splintering crashing noises but their drive and speed pushes them on faster than us. They don’t care about pain or position, just slamming into the fence panel’s face on. Bodies dropping from the impact and being trampled only to get back up and keep charging. We don’t have that luxury, we have to position and brace ourselves for the impact. Those two slight things mean they’re closing the gap far quicker than either of us expected.
We crash into the final garden, my heart sinks at the sight of the wall. The solid brick wall that borders the road. The garden is lower than the road, now I understand why I fell when I jumped down, the drop being further than I expected.
Ferocious fighting is taking place the other side of that wall but it might as well be in fucking France, the distance is just too great. The wall is just too high. Dave might make it but me and the dog won’t, well maybe the dog would…but that would mean it has to understand its own importance and know it must survive, it must run at the wall and leap high. There isn’t time to communicate this to the dog, there isn’t time to urge the dog over. The dog wants to fight, it wants to kill the undead.
These last few strides will take us to the wall, then we have no choice but to fight. Time slows as my legs make the strides. I glance at Dave as he nods at me, his eyes alight and telling me everything I need to know. The dog is running to the side of us, her ears pricked at the sounds coming from the other side of the wall.
We reach the wall and stop, quickly turning back. Four, maybe five seconds before they’re on us. My axe is ready, gripped in both hands. Dave has a knife in each hand. We face the horde, the fetid dirty foul evil spawn that charge at us across a once perfectly manicured green lawn. The dog is ready, her head low and top lip crumpled showing them her teeth.
‘READY DAVE?’
‘YES MR HOWIE,’ He bellows back, his voice loud and strong. Fury etched onto his face, his own lips pulled back, snarling. My own top lip pulls up as I roar my challenge at them. Dave gives voice, the dog glances between us. Her eyes on fire as she joins us.
We do not fear you. We ran for a reason but not through fear, never through fear. We are not cowards but warriors strong and true. We three stand before your many and we stand proud and ready. We hold weapons but we will fight you without them if we have to. Know us. Know our names. Know who we are for we will reap a vengeance on you. See us before you. Feel that power surging through our bodies and know that one of our few cannot be turned. For that you have failed and we have that one thing that will drive humanity forever onwards. We have hope. One tiny spark of hope that will keep you from our doors.
I am Howie. Son of Howard.
We have met before.
You know me.
I am your destroyer and I will end you.
The three of us charge the many. Dave goes right, I go left and the dog takes the middle. My axe swings back high and swipes forward into their ranks. The shaft with the heavy weighted double blade becomes an extension of my body, a part of me as intrinsic as my arms and legs. We are connected and it becomes alive in my hands. The blade bites and snarls with a life and heart of its own. The undead wilt and die before me. They have no power, no love. I fight for my friends, for they are my family. My axe flies and bites, slices and sweeps. It skewers and cleaves, taking heads off, destroying necks, slicing through shoulder joints. They pile in, oh they pile in with such ferocity that it should make me feel overwhelmed but instead I relish the challenge. One may get me, one bite or scratch will be all it needs but until that happens I shall not stop.
Dave is to the right fighting deep amongst them. His athletic grace is unstoppable, the power generated through his small body becomes something ethereal, magical. An ability that humans should not possess for the power it gives them must, must corrupt their soul. For Dave though it is a simply a skill he has and a task that needs doing. The more I know him, the more time I spend with him the more I see further into him. There is a spark there, something that comes alive when he does this.
I throw my head back and scream my vengeance at them, swinging out and keeping them at bay. The grass quickly becomes slick from the blood, the bodies become trip hazards in the dark of the garden. The fighting becomes dirty and close quartered, I glance over to the fence and see more pouring through. Too many. The gardens are thick with them. I catch sight of the dog leaping high and taking a throat out with her jaws.
They lunge at her, diving and frantic to take her down. She takes bites, I see it happen. One of them sinking his teeth into her shoulder. She howls and spins round, ravaging the thing to death and dragging it quickly backwards knocking more of their feet as the undead flails its arms and legs about.
The man we saved in the street roars and leaps from the top of the wall, landing feet from me and taking several down with him. He’s on his feet within a second, his face is filled with pure vengeance. His thick muscular arms punch out quick and hard. Faces lunge at him, he punches fast and knocks them back. His hard knuckles breaking bones left right and centre. With his bare hands he fights them. That dog must mean the world to him, maybe he knows of her pure blood and fights for the same reasons.
‘MEREDITH,’ he screams with a deep voice. He lashes out, knocking one back and grabbing another. His arms quickly wrapping round the thing and snapping its neck. His movements become faster as he repeats the action, grabbing another and twisting violently.
My axe is bloodied now, the crimson foulness pours down the shaft and coats my hands. I grip harder and do the work I was made for; killing and destroy
ing the evil things before me.
‘MEREDITH,’ the man bellows. He grabs another one, slamming his foot down onto the undeads knee and snapping the neck. I’ve seen that before, many times. Who does that move? Not Dave or Clarence.
We fight on, losing. Losing and we know it. The firing continues the other side of the wall, they must be as pinned down as we are. No hope of rescue then. Oh well, they’ll have to cope for a while longer until we’ve finished these off. Ha! Hope Howie, there’s always Hope. Our four pitted against them, we don’t fight in a circle but on our own. Each beast amongst us fighting for his own reasons but for the same end.
We’re going to lose. That is almost certain now. For everything wonderful that Dave can do, for the sheer destructive power of the dog, for the lunacy of that big bloke, even for the power I possess we are simply too outnumbered to win. I’m getting backed into a corner, giving ground but killing for every step back I have to take.
A huge sound fills the air, cheering erupts from the other side of the wall as the beloved, beautiful, glorious sound of the General Purpose Machine Gun fills the air. That constant beat it produces so distinctive and true.
Within a second the top of the wall is swarming with my blessed team. Every-one of them scrambling and dropping down. Rifles cast aside for fear of shooting their own.
Blowers. That brave lad always with Cookey at his side. They leap with axes drawn, landing deep in the fray. Clarence bellows with his axe held out above his head. A Viking berserker sent from ages past to rid the world of this plague. Lani, slight and deadly, meat cleaver shining in her hand. She casts her eyes, seeing me backed into the corner and surrounded by the filthy undead. Too many of them for my axe to take. Her face twists into one of pure rage, she charges at them with the scream of a banshee intent on destruction. Tom and Nick roar in with unbridled glory, they team up covering each-others backs and fighting with utter brutality. Chris drops down, his eyes ablaze as the diplomat and leader leaves to be replaced with the warrior he is. He makes for Clarence. The two big men fighting side by side. Long years spent doing the same has made them an intuitive and amazing team to behold.
See us you foul things. See my team. See who we are for now we are not few but we are many. Less than you but enough for I will take any of these against a horde a hundred times your size.
The unknown man fights towards the dog, she gets to his side and they fight out. We give voice as we do battle. They howl and scream with fury and we howl and scream back. This garden of a house of a street in a quiet town becomes to site of a furious battle. Undead stream at us and die under our weapons. Lani reaches my side and we fight out together. Her meat cleaver so deadly and accurate as she whips and charges them unafraid and fearsome.
The man snaps necks one after the other, with more of us fighting the space has evened out and he becomes deadlier than before. The dog watches him constantly, taking anything down that even looks like its heading his way. He fights with glorious beauty, screaming the name Meredith over and again.
They sense the loss and they change. Fighting harder than before with such savagery it becomes almost frightening to watch them for never before have I seen such twisted hatred, such darkness of violence driving a creature for these are creatures with nothing human about them now. Hands become claws, lashing out with deadly strength.
The dog howls as an undead sinks its teeth into her body, the hands of the zombie pummelling her side. She thrashes wildly, the man screaming and diving down onto the zombie. His fists driving punches into its head. He breaks the things grip and snaps its neck. The dog bleeds from a wound to her side but pays no heed. On her feet and returning the gesture with her teeth. The man drives into them again. He becomes overwhelmed, hands driving at him. The dog leaps into them, using her body to slam them backwards. Dave gains the dog’s side, his knives slashing and cutting deeply, his feet kicking out as he battles them away. Chris and Clarence fight in, destroying the things she knocked back.
Blowers leads the rest to the fence, screaming orders as he, Cookey, Nick and Tom form a line across the boundary. They fight out with their backs to us, trusting their comrades to protect them from the rear. Lani and I fight towards them, the battle is ferocious now. They become super charged with greater strength and unabated violence coursing through their dead systems. The man goes down, bodies of undead swarming over him. The dog leaps in amongst them, her teeth gnashing left and right ripping bodies away. Dave roars, joining the dog and fighting into them. The man is lost to view, his body covered by undead. The dog going wild with fury and bleeding from several wounds to her body, her black fur matted with the wet glistening blood. Clarence loses his axe in the head of one if the things. He kicks the undead away, lifting it from its feet as it ploughs deep into the ranks of the oncoming. He reverts to hands, his massive arms swiping and knocking them down. He scoops a broken body up, using it as a battering ram at first before grabbing the corpse by the ankles and swinging at the undead. Releasing the body to slam them against the end wall and he piles in after them. Chris at his side as they bring their own way of fighting to the zombies.
Lani and I reach the pile in the middle, hacking, kicking, punching and gouging. We beat the bodies back. The man fights under them, still alive and his face contorted with the indignation of losing his feet. His t-shirt is ripped from his body as clawed hands rake at him. Blood coats his skin, his own blood from cuts and bites to his arms, neck and body. He doesn’t notice, he doesn’t care. Dave stares at him for a split second before fighting out again. Chris and Clarence, having killed their end fight back towards the middle. Corpses everywhere, bits of corpse everywhere. Feet slipping and sliding and the fighting becomes the hardest in these last few minutes. They’ve lost but they don’t care. They fight and claw, lunging and snapping their teeth without hesitation.
Lani stays at my side, Dave stays with the dog and the dog stays by the man as we fight for our lives. The line at the fence breaks as Chris roars to cover the dog. The undead are no longer coming at us, their numbers are exhausted.
The rest fall back into a slowly decreasing circle, ending the life of anything that doesn’t belong on this earth.
The last seconds and the man slips, going down hard. The last few undead pile into him, covering his body. The dog reacts as quickly as before and we’re there, all of us are there pulling the bodies away and ending them quickly.
As the last body has its neck snapped by Clarence and thrown casually aside we stand and stare about us. Chests heaving, weapons raised and ready.
Its’ done. The battle is ours but the bloodlust is still on us. We still snarl and growl as the reality of the victory slowly trickles into our heads.
The man starts to rise, his face still flushed with battle as he gets up to fight some more. He slips and staggers, his legs giving way underneath him. The dog whines at his side, licking his face with her tail wagging, the hair on her back no longer standing on end. Her teeth no longer showing.
I rush over, dropping down next to him. The wounds are deep, too deep and too many of them. His body covered in cuts and bites. His face is familiar, a thick beard covers his jaw and suddenly the image of that move he did comes to mind.
‘Paco Maguire, fuck me…’ Cookey says hoarsely as he too recognises the fallen man.
‘Get me up,’ the man gasps for air. I try to help him to his feet but his own legs won’t take his weight, he sinks back down.
‘It’s done, it’s over…we won,’ I say between lungful’s of air.
‘Oh,’ he says simply and the fight goes out of him, he rises to sit upright. Staring at the dog and wincing as she licks at his wounds. ‘I’m cut…’ his deep American voice says flatly, ‘I’ve been bit.’
He stares up at our faces, no one says anything, too out of breath and knowing what it means too.
‘Are you okay?’ He asks the dog, ‘you’ve been bit too, get me water…quick.’ Someone passes him a bottle which he uses to pour down her side, cl
eaning the wounds, ‘good girl, you’re gonna be okay…you know that…you’re gonna be okay,’ he pours the bottle on her bites. She winces but takes the pain, holding her head so close to his. She sniffs at his wounds, licking them as they try to clean each other. ‘More water damn you,’ the man snaps. Bottles are passed down to him. He cups his hands, telling someone to pour water into them. It’s done by Lani but the man doesn’t acknowledge the action, just stares at the dog as he pushes the makeshift bowl towards her. She laps at the water, her long pink tongue licking his hands in the process. He takes the bottle from Lani and holds it to her mouth, gently pouring it out as she licks the cascading liquid. He smiles and rubs her neck, ‘drink, good girl, you drink it all up….clean her wounds for damn sake,’ he snarls out the side of her mouth.
We dart forward, hands holding water bottles and pouring the liquid down her sides. She suffers the pain, intent on lapping at the water he pours by her mouth.
The man coughs once, then again harder. The bottle falls from his grip as he sinks onto his side, gripping his stomach and writhing in pain.
The dog whines and licks his face, her rough tongue removing the blood from his skin. He comes to, opening his eyes and smiling up at her. He rolls onto his back, his arms coming up to wrap round her neck. She sinks down onto his chest, her front legs either side of his head.
‘Meredith…’ he whispers softly hugging the dog. ‘Meredith….I’m coming…’
I drop down to his side, the dog suddenly showing me teeth and growling. We back off, leaving them together. He clings to her neck, his face a picture of happiness and contentment. His fingers stroke her fur as he whispers soft murmurings into her ears. She licks his face again, he chuckles softly.
‘You take care of her you hear me…you damn well take care of her,’ he suddenly roars with power in his voice.
‘We will, I promise,’ I say back. My voice choking as tears sting my eyes. Glancing round I see clean streaks down the faces of most of the others. Even Clarence and Chris. Dave is the only one who doesn’t show a reaction.