The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘I agree,’ Lani adds, ‘we’re doing it nicely so don’t worry and everyone seems to understand. We’re not taking it off them, we’re just saying they have to take it to the stores when they get in.’

  ‘Fair enough, vehicles?’

  ‘Same thing,’ Lani replies, ‘we’re listing who has what vehicle, they get parked with the others and all the keys held somewhere and if they want to leave they can take the vehicle they came in.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Maddox says, ‘but we’re gonna run out of space, just take the best vehicles and the rest will have to be put somewhere else.’

  ‘Where?’ Lenski asks.

  ‘Like the boss said,’ Maddox grins, ‘we’ll work that out as we go.’ I pick up on him calling me the boss but don’t show a reaction.

  ‘Okay, so we do crews first…Darius and Sierra you do this yes?’ Lenski asks, ‘once the ground is cleaned we unload and get ready before we get these people inside.’

  The group drifts apart, Maddox walking off with Lenski, Darius and Sierra heading inside and the two lads resuming their patrol.

  ‘You alright?’ I ask Lani and Dave.

  ‘Fine,’ Lani nods.

  ‘Dave?’

  ‘Good Mr Howie.’

  ‘Er…any sign of anything?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Lani shakes her head, ‘my stomach hurts a bit but I took some painkillers to ease it off, other than that I feel completely normal.’

  ‘Dave, you seen anything?’

  ‘No, she would be dead if I did,’ he replies matter of fact.

  ‘Nice,’ Lani scoffs.

  ‘I told Maddox,’ I say quietly, ‘he’d sort of worked out something was going on.’

  ‘Was he okay?’ Lani asks.

  ‘Yeah, shocked like we were but I promised to tell him the full story later when we can all sit down, if you’re okay with that.’

  ‘We should be honest,’ Lani nods, ‘I keep wanting to tell Lenski but…we don’t get five minutes.’

  ‘We’ll do it later. Right…what a fucking day again.’

  ‘Telling me,’ Lani says walking off with Dave stepping silently behind her.

  Twenty Two

  There they are, the front of the horde marching at her. Rank and file holding space beating an even step. The ragged wounds and injuries made all the worse by the organised controlled manner of their march.

  Getting onto the coastal road had been easy enough but heading back towards the town had been nerve shredding. Thinking that round every corner would be the horde who would surge and engulf the vehicle. Catching sight of them in the distance was lucky.

  The ground was flat so she couldn’t see beyond the first few ranks, just a solid wall of undead that blocked the width of the road and stretched back. Terrible and awesome all at the same time.

  Dead bodies that were inhabited and controlled by something unseen and evil, an entity that possessed them and made them do things like this. Something so powerful it could control thousands of bodies at the same time, making them march in perfect timing.

  They could see her, there was no doubt about it. But they didn’t show any reaction but maintained the same pace. She left it until the inner voice was screaming to go, move now before they burst into a sprint. Still they didn’t react and held that awful steady clumping pace.

  With just metres to go she floored the pedal and felt the surge of the vehicle pulling away. All she had to do now was keep going and find what they were going after.

  The coastal road wound inland through hamlets and small holdings before drifting lazily back to the coast, often going close to the shore line with solid views of the blue sea stretching out to the horizon. If it wasn’t for the deadly army behind her, the view would be breath-taking and make her want to stop and soak it in. Maybe park up and find an isolated beach for a swim.

  At every point of interest she slowed down, examining remote farms in the distance or rows of rural cottages set back behind pretty gardens. Isolated country pubs smashed and looted or boarded up with thick sheets of ply hastily pilfered from the local timber yard.

  Nothing stood out, nothing that would warrant a horde that size. The next town was a big one, substantial enough to have a seaside promenade, a town centre and its own commercial, industrial and sprawling residential zones.

  The road sweeping in to the town went straight from rural country to urban with no steady transition. Fields then buildings. An abrupt change that jarred the senses and should have had the town planners taken round the back to be beaten with hoses. A heavy sudden vibration of the vehicle catches her unawares, not noticing the cattle grid until going over it. The four wheel drive absorbed the impact with ease but it still jolted her senses and made her realise why the sudden change. The fields here must be owned and used as grazing land for cattle and with an obstinate farmer in possession the town planners could plan all they wanted, but unless they took out a compulsory purchase order their town simply could not extend in that direction.

  The cattle grid was an interesting feature, a long metal structure that broke the surface of the road for several metres. High barb wire fences on both sides so it was the only way through. If they could be wired up to mains electric they would set a wonderful trap and slow the horde down. However, the mains were now off so that idea was negated instantly.

  No. No it wasn’t. Batteries contained electricity and if several of those were wired up they would still provide a nasty shock. She’d used car batteries before in her old town, wiring them to door handles to give the zombies a nice jolt.

  Scanning the area she searched for any premises that might sell or use them, there were enough vehicles left on the roadside to use but that would take too much time unbolting them and then she’d still need the connecting wires. Checking the map she makes a quick calculation; they were at least six miles behind her and travelling at no more than four miles an hour, that gave her an hour and a half at the very most. That was enough time to get something rigged up and the cattle grid was a natural funnel that was just too good an opportunity to miss.

  She finds a large garage well before going into the town centre. A quiet side street with an old fashioned workshop and costly petrol prices with old style fuel pumps and a faded sign stating attendance service. Quaint and a throw-back to a period now never to be repeated. It doesn't take long to smash the window pane of the door, then reach through to unlock and gain entry. Once inside she hurries through the reception area into the workshop and straight to the back where the spare tyres, wheels and other parts are stored.

  A stack of batteries under a branded sign informing of deep cycle designed for leisure caravanning. Big batteries and they’re bloody heavy too. She starts carrying them out one at a time, staggering under the heavy weight and dumping them in the back of her open boot. Sweating heavily from the rushed exertion she piles them in then hunts along the display stand grabbing plastic bags containing the thick red and black wires with the big crocodile clips.

  Back at the cattle grid and she unloads the batteries, stacking them on the ground to one side. Each time she bends over to drop one down, a stream of sweat drips from her nose to soak instantly into the scorched ground. The heat saps at her energy, she breathes faster and harder, knowing that every minute that passes brings them closer.

  Red to positive and black to negative, she clips the leads on and connects the batteries to each other. Seven of them lined up and the last set of leads are stretched to the cattle grid.

  ‘Shit,’ she spits with anger at the leads not being long enough. Seven weighty batteries are shifted along inches at a time so the wires don’t unclip. Back to the last one and she curses again at the crocodile clip being too small to bite onto any of the thick metal bars of the grid.

  The bolts on the frame are the only bits small enough to stretch the mouth of the crocodile clip on and again that means shifting every single battery. Rushing like a competitor from a strong man competition she runs between the batteries heaving
them along until the last wires will reach the bolts.

  Once on the grid will be live. Now does she attach the black first or the red? With the heat, the rushing and the growing sense of pressure she forgets which goes on first. Has to the red positive lead.

  Biting her bottom lip she leans in and hovers the red wire above the bolt, grimacing she sticks it on and exhales when nothing happens.

  Now the black, if this is wrong she will either be sent flying off or the muscles in her hand will clamp down and hold onto the surge of electricity. No time to waste so with another grimace she sticks the black clip to the next bolt and jumps back.

  No sign that the grid is live, no arcing sparks or hum of electricity. The batteries could be dead for all she knows. A sudden desire to test the grid comes into her head, but how? Pretty short of stepping on the thing there is no way of knowing. The live rail on at train stations doesn't look any different to the others. It must be live.

  Seven big leisure batteries all in a line, the combined voltage or wattage or amps, or whatever they use to calculate it will be pumping into the grid. The second anyone touches it and the connection is made, they get zapped. The grid is long so it will slow them down for a few minutes at the very least, and if the ones behind push the front ranks forward then a few will get zapped to death too.

  What else? This road is prime for traps to be set. How long has she taken to get the batteries rigged up? Half hour at the most, so she still has an hour.

  The broken glass tactic takes too long to set up but the upturned nails is quick, they just need scattering. Back to the truck and she pulls the cardboard boxes out and starts back to the grid. Huge drawing pin style tacks with heavy heads and inch long spikes.

  Inches from the grid she starts scattering them across the ground, again it won’t stop them but it will start to hurt them and open their feet up. Deep cuts that will lacerate the flesh and each step taken after that will make the cut worse until they’re limping and weaker. Even if only ten are felled it’s still ten less that can hurt whoever they’re going after.

  With the tacks down the temptation to keep going is too great to resist. The only route is this road and with the building line just metres away it’s perfect for more traps to be set.

  Standing facing the grid she starts walking backwards, imagining the width of the them and how they will fan out once through the narrower bottle neck. The razor wire would work well if the connecting string was threaded across the road here and the coils set back to the sides of the road to be pulled in.

  That garage had fuel pumps, if they could be activated and the petrol pumped out she could do the fire trick again and burn them down. But the ground slopes slightly here so the fuel would run off to gather at one side or drain away. The fumes would still ignite but then in this heat it would soon dry out.

  Those gas bottles on the industrial estate were good too, if they could be set down amongst the seats of fire the resulting explosion would also cut them down. Vehicles parked across the road would block their movements and slow them down. Maybe some kind of delayed fuse or something going into the fuel tanks, then drive further on and get more traps set and keep going. Constant chunks taken out of them to wither them down to nothing.

  She turns round to start heading back to her vehicle, stopping within two steps to stare up the road at the horde gathered there. For a second she panics, thinking she’s got the direction wrong then realises this group are simply moving down to join the horde about to come through.

  A whole mass of them, solid lines stretching across the road and lacking the organised coordination of the marching column coming from the other direction. They also lack the restraint and on seeing her they start charging. Paula doesn't know the reason for the change in behaviour, why these are running and the other ones don’t but it’s enough to get her moving. The jolting fright propels the adrenalin into her legs as she sprints to the vehicle.

  The speed of them is staggering, an all-out fast charge and clearly hell bent on getting to her. Into the driver’s seat and she twists the key, gunning the engine as she pushes the gear stick into first. The only available junction is up ahead, other than that it’s back the way she came, over the nails and live cattle grid. Foot to the floor and the engine roars as she accelerates. They charge towards her, veering over towards the junction as though to cut her off.

  Second gear and it’s done badly, the vehicle shuddering from the rapid movements of her feet on the pedals. They come on strong and quick, throwing themselves into the path of her vehicle, surging forward with body mass to prevent her getting to the road.

  With yards to go the fastest are throwing themselves at the front of the four wheel drive, slamming onto the bonnet and impacting on the sides. Loud bangs and thumps shudder the frame. One leaps high, smashing onto the bonnet and riding up to crash bodily into the windscreen. It clings on, blocking her view, spider web fractures spreading out across the glass.

  From calm to all out mayhem within a couple of seconds and she keeps going, unable to see the road ahead but feeling as bodies impact at the wheels and sides. The passenger side window implodes as a head rams through it, the snarling face howling as it tries to wriggle through. Screaming she grabs the rifle and fires, aiming point blank at the head. The rounds spin through the cranium bursting the skull apart. The body slumps but remains wedged in place.

  Still with her view blocked she pulls the wheel hard, trying to dislodge the body on the windscreen. The front hits something hard, the sound of screeching metal that breaks and pulls the vehicle to a slow pace then something snaps and it surges forward again. Out of the control with no idea what direction she is going she twists the wheel left and right, catching a glimpse of a brick wall ahead of her.

  Stamping hard on the brakes the body flies off to splat against the wall and slide down, inches away from the solid structure she realises she’s metres into the junction but veered hard over to the left side.

  Reverse selected and she stretches her left arm over the back of the passenger seat, twisting round to watch as she powers backwards. Figures running at the vehicle and slamming into the back, more coming from the sides. The engine whines louder as she builds speed up while trying to get back onto the road proper. The aggression they show is immense, pure unadulterated fury, driven by lustful hunger that sends them surging to their deaths. So many of them, the road fills with figures charging round the corner into the side road.

  Heavy on the brake and she grinds the gear into first but her feet and hands are out of synch, the engine stalls with a juddering stop. She pushes the clutch down and twists the ignition key back then forward, the engine ticks then fires. Looking out the driver’s window at the shaven headed undead running straight towards her. Head lowered and teeth barred, aiming for the glass and it will smash through to sink its teeth into her face. Time slows and she knows deep within her heart there is no way she can push her foot down to engage the engine to move fast enough to evade the impact from this one solitary animal coming at her. The laws of physics just will not allow it to happen. In that instant she knows it’s over. It will smash through the window and be upon her, and even if she does manage to fend him off so many more will engulf the vehicle.

  She watches transfixed as it comes, all in split second she wonders what life he had, who he was, what happened to his family? Did he work? What defined this person before he became one of the things? Does he know what is happening? Trapped in the body of a raging monster, screaming to be released, knowing and alert but unable to do anything. So human, so very human but then so animalistic in nature, predatory to the point of being a monster from the worst nightmare imaginable. She even takes in the chipped tooth at the front and the small scar running across its forehead. Inches away and she accepts the inevitable then blinks as it is taken away, simply not there anymore.

  Reality hits, the sound of the engine roaring to gather speed, gear meshing and it pulls away. Another one charges in, aiming for the win
dscreen then it too is just gone, taken away with a flash of something dark. One vaults onto the bonnet and slides up to press its face against the glass, hand pulled back to smash through the already fractured screen. Something drives it forward ramming the head through the glass and driving the body inches into the cabin. A long stick poking out the back of the skull.

  Glancing up at a man stood next to a huge blue van, already pulling another arrow into his bow, lifting and firing in one fluid movement and another drops.

  Roy takes the one on the bonnet, seeing its arm coming back to hammer the glass in. He knows the impact of the arrow will drive the body forward through the glass but there is no choice so he fires. He doesn't wait to see the impact as he knows the outcome the very second the arrow is loosed.

  His hand drops, feeling for the fletch of the next arrow and pulls it up, nocks as he lifts, aims and loose. The arrow flies true and straight, the immense power of the compound bow driving the barbed head deep into the skull of one going for the passenger door.

  One on the roof, scrabbling to gain purchase. Fletch, nock, lift and loose and it flies off, the carbon fibre arrow slamming deep into the brain. The black four wheel drive seems to take an eternity to gather speed, the engine roars but little power is given to the wheels.

  ‘GET OUT AND RUN,’ Roy shouts as he looses another arrow. She seems to hesitate, slamming her fists against the steering wheel. He takes the next one charging at the driver’s door.

  ‘RUN,’ he shouts again, he doesn't feel panicked or flushed with worry. This is firing arrows and is the most calming thing in the world. His breathing is normal and controlled, his heart rate barely fluttering above normal. Eyes scanning as he grabs the feels the fletch, lifts the arrow into the rest at the same instant as nocking the grooved end into the string, all done as the string is already being pulled back and the bow lifts. The arrow flies, simply going where he wants it to go. Straight and true and taking another one of its feet.