Chokehold

by David Moody

  One of the bastards who just took the car was looking out the back window as they drove away. He pulled off his hat and scarve and revealed himself.

  “Unchanged!” the Hater screams. “Fucking Unchanged just nicked my fucking car!”

  * * *

  “Are they following?” Jason asks, too afraid to look in the rearview mirror, too scared to look anywhere but at the road stretching out ahead.

  “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “All of them, it looks like.”

  “Shit. We’re going to lead them straight back to the others. This is exactly what we were trying to avoid.”

  “Bit late to worry about that now, mate. Keep your foot down. Just get us there safe.”

  52

  The CDF Outpost

  There’s a sign at the side of the road that reads Services Two Miles, but they can already see where they’re heading. The fields around the outpost are swarming with activity. From a distance, it’s hard to make out much in the way of specific details, but the position of the outpost itself is made clear by the direction in which the chaos moves: guns and tanks fire out, Haters rush in. Dirty smoke palls in the squally air above the battlefield, guiding the way like the You Are Here marker on a tourist map.

  Matt’s slumped on the backseat, panting. They’ve been tearing down the A14 toward this place for several miles now. The outpost doesn’t seem to be getting any closer, but the vehicles racing up behind them do.

  “Exit coming,” Matt tells Jason.

  “Is this it? Do I take it?”

  “Stupid bloody question, of course you take it!”

  Jason yanks the wheel, and the BMW banks hard left. It feels like the car’s about to flip, but he manages to keep control. He sees the parking lot and the mass of vehicles and instinctively heads toward it, but realizes too late there’s no way through. All tracks and roads have been blocked.

  “How do we get in?” Jason screams, sounding frantic. “How do we get them to see us?”

  “Good question,” Matt mumbles. He wishes he had an answer, but he doesn’t. You can plot and plan as much as you like, he thinks, but there’s always going to have to be an element of improvisation.

  The car bounces up the curb and drives over what’s left of a torn-down fence. Jason instinctively ducks and shields his face as a Hater-driven van crosses directly in front of them, only to be taken out by a shell from one of the Unchanged tanks. There’s chaos on all sides now. Jason realizes too late that his cut-through has brought them out right in the middle of the battlefield.

  “They’re going to think we’re Haters,” Jason says, and Matt thinks he’s right. They’re just one beaten-up car among many now hurtling toward the base, indistinguishable from all the others.

  “We’ll have to dump the car, try to get closer on foot.”

  “Are you fucking crazy? If this lot don’t get us, the bloody CDF will. Besides, you can hardly walk. How are you going to run?”

  “I’m all ears if you’ve got a better suggestion.”

  For the first time, they can see virtually the whole battlefield, the service station and hotel standing defiant in the midst of the carnage. The banks of mud, the battlements made of wreckage, and the regular flashes of flame from the trenches make the place look like something from hundreds of years ago, a medieval fortress under siege.

  The pursuing pack have long since given up chasing the BMW, and Jason realizes that driving into the middle of the fighting like this has given them an unexpected sliver of a chance. “I’m gonna take a leaf out of your book, mate!” he shouts to Matt.

  “What?”

  “We’re going to use one of your old tricks—use the fighting as cover.”

  Jason checks in his mirrors to see what traffic’s around, then looks up again and sees he’s driving directly at the barrel of a tank’s gun. From the way the gun is being lowered, there’s little doubt that the next shell it fires will have his name on it. He immediately wrenches the wheel to the right and slides into a gap between two other vehicles that are racing forward at speed to attack, a truck and a sedan. He’s out of the way just in the nick of time; the tank fires and the shell hits the space where the BMW just was.

  “Hold on!” he shouts to Matt, and he accelerates again until he’s almost touching the back of the far slower truck in front. He grips the wheel as the car rattles over deep furrows in the ground. “I’ll stick to the back of this truck, try to stay hidden. Sorry it’s not a great plan, but it’s all I’ve got.”

  The nearer they get to the outpost proper, the more Haters there are on foot around them. More vehicles tear across the battlefield, then grind to a sudden halt and unload packs of Hater foot soldiers who sprint forward into the unending madness. A fighter ducks to avoid gunfire, then looks up and makes fleeting eye contact with Jason in the front of the BMW. Despite the brevity of the moment, despite the absolute bloody mayhem consuming everything all around them, despite the fact he’s at imminent risk of being shot at from any number of directions, Jason gets the unshakable feeling that he’s now the sole focus of that particular Hater’s ire.

  There are increasing numbers of enemy fighters around here now, using wrecks and moving vehicles for cover as they attempt to breach the CDF defenses, and many more of them are beginning to realize that Matt and Jason are Unchanged. And they’re starting to react. Their collective focus shifts. Instead of concentrating on the Unchanged they can’t see inside the outpost, a disproportionate number of them now switch their attention to the two Unchanged out here in the chaos alongside them.

  The truck Jason’s been following is targeted. A howitzer fires, and the truck driver steers to one side to avoid impact. Jason immediately steers the other way, and when Matt looks back, he sees that some twenty Haters on foot have also changed direction and are thundering after the BMW.

  Jason and Matt are less than fifty meters from the CDF front line. Matt looks back at the pursuing crowd and wonders if the gunners will see what he’s seeing and realize the Haters are hunting Unchanged. Who the hell is he kidding? In the madness out here today, no one—neither Hater nor Unchanged—has the luxury of being able to take stock and consider what they’re seeing; they just have to react. The tank commanders and the snipers and whoever else they’ve got defending the base will just see a pack of Haters coming toward them and will do everything in their power to blow seven shades of shit out of them.

  A spray of gunfire rakes the hood of the BMW. “Fuck me,” Jason says, checking himself for bullet holes and realizing he’s clear. “That was close.”

  “We could do with a white flag to wave,” Matt says, semi-serious.

  “No time for that, mate.”

  Jason’s right.

  They’re approaching the front of the base, and he has to act. He realizes there’s only one way he can demonstrate his allegiance to the CDF and hope they’ll see him. He yanks up the brake and does a full turn in the mud, just about managing to keep control. “What the hell are you doing?” Matt screams from the back, holding on to his seat.

  Jason doesn’t answer; he just accelerates into the crowd of Haters now running toward them. They bounce off the hood and windshield like massively engorged flies. Bones crunch under the car’s tires.

  Jason stops, spins the car around again, and drives directly at those few left standing.

  There’s no visible reaction from the CDF officers and militia watching the battle from the outpost. Jason’s lining up for a third pass when a Hater-piloted Land Rover smashes into the side of the BMW, wiping it out. It skids through the mud, then drops into the section of trench that runs right across the front of the outpost.

  For Jason and Matt, all the noise and frantic movement immediately stops. There’s nothing now. Space and gravity and muffled quiet. The BMW has landed front-first in the trench, wedged downward, nose in the ground.

  Matt’s the first to move. “Come on,” he says to Jason. “We have to go.”

 
He’s aware of armed CDF soldiers swarming toward them from either end of the trench, and he prays they realize who—what—he is. He leans forward and shakes Jason, who groans and tries to move. He has a bloody cut across his forehead where his head hit the wheel.

  “We need to go,” Matt tells him again.

  “Can’t,” Jason says. “I’m stuck.”

  Matt realizes the steering column has collapsed, crushing Jason’s legs.

  “Just go,” Jason says through gritted teeth. The pain he’s in is intense.

  “Not without you.”

  He groans. “Come on, Matt. Don’t pick now to turn into a clichéd arsehole. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep them busy. Just get inside and warn the others.”

  Matt still doesn’t move. He and Jason lock eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Go, you annoying bastard!” Jason screams at him. “Fuck’s sake! You’ve been trying to get rid of me since we first met. Now’s your chance. Go!”

  And this time he does.

  Matt kicks the buckled back door open and falls out of the car, then drags himself through the mud and rainwater at the bottom of the trench. He hears Jason shouting to the Haters. “Come on, you fuckers! Come and have me!” Matt looks up and sees the first of them crawling over the exposed rear end of the car, then diving in through the door he left open. He pulls himself forward on his belly, barely enough energy to keep moving, then stops when the first of the CDF soldiers reaches him. They’re yelling and priming their weapons, ready to kill him because they think he’s one of them. He can hardly breathe, but he manages to roll over onto his back and raise his hands in submission. “Don’t kill me. Not a Hater. I need to speak to Estelle or Aaron or whoever’s left in charge. We’re all fucked if you don’t let me see them.”

  53

  The mezzanine deck is a focused hive of activity; a council of war. Estelle is poised to launch a decisive forward offensive. Down in the parking lot in front of the two buildings, a column of CDF fighters and gear has formed up. There are jeeps and all-terrain vehicles ready to roll out with gunners manning rear-mounted machine guns. Many more militiamen are on foot, also armed with whatever useful weaponry they’ve managed to locate: a mix of guns, grenades, batons, and blades. Bookending the attack force are the four remaining CDF tanks. They have limited supplies of shells—the rearmost Challenger only has three left to fire—but that’s of little concern. If they were attacking buildings or facing other armored vehicles, it would matter, but today they’re going out there to wipe out an army of individuals. The method of their demise doesn’t matter—who cares if they’re shot, beaten, or crushed beneath caterpillar tracks?

  “Everything’s in place,” Chappell tells Estelle.

  “Good.”

  “And you’re completely sure about this?”

  “Not questioning me again, are you, Greg?”

  “It’s just that sending that many troops and that much gear forward is leaving the outpost prone.”

  “I told you, it’s a calculated risk. We still have the rocket launchers and other weapons around the perimeter.”

  “Some of the larger guns are out of ammo.”

  “They’re still a deterrent. A constant reminder to the enemy that if you get too close to us, there’s every chance we’ll blow you to kingdom come.”

  “Of course.”

  The constant Hater attacks of the last few hours have been repelled with ease, and the longer this fighting goes on, the more confident Estelle is becoming. She turns to speak to Moira, who’ll be leading the charge. “Draw them in and wipe them out, got it?”

  “Got it, ma’am.”

  “I don’t care if it takes you a whole bloody week to cover the five miles between here and Longstanton. We do whatever we have to do to make sure none of those bastards are left alive at the end of it.”

  “That’s what I’m planning.”

  “Excellent. I know I don’t need to tell you, but this is a pivotal moment. We’ll regroup after Longstanton’s taken, then keep moving east. There are several military bases along the way where we should be able to rearm and refuel. I know this is going to work.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” another voice, an unexpected voice, says from behind her.

  Estelle turns around. For a few seconds, there’s confusion, but once she manages to see through the layer of grime and she realizes who it is that’s standing in front of her, the bewilderment turns to disbelief. “Jesus H. Christ. How the bloody hell do you do it?”

  “Who’s this?” Chappell demands.

  “This is Matthew Dunne. He has an inability to die, by all accounts. Every time I think I’ve seen the last of him, he turns up again.”

  “You owe me an apology,” Matt says, ignoring him and focusing on her.

  “Do I?”

  He’s exhausted, feeling weaker than ever, but the adrenaline and fear keep him upright and talking. Keep him fighting. “I tried to help you, and you screwed me over.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong, Matthew…”

  “I told you there was a Hater in the middle of your precious RAF base, and instead of listening to me, you drugged me and dumped me and left me there to die.”

  “That was never the plan,” she says, quickly backpedaling. “Things got out of hand…”

  “I know. I saw the consequences. It could all have been avoided. Those people didn’t need to die.”

  “This is new territory for all of us. We need to learn lessons, I accept that.”

  “Give me a break. You sound like a politician.”

  That seems to rankle Estelle more than it should. “So did you come here specifically to insult or undermine me, or is there another reason for your visit?”

  “Yeah, there’s a very good reason, actually. I don’t want you to make the same mistake again.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. What mistake?”

  “Ignoring me. You need to listen very carefully.”

  “Go on.”

  “You’re surrounded,” he tells her. “There are Haters out there in massive numbers. Hundreds and hundreds of them.”

  “We know. We’ve been dealing with them pretty effectively, actually. Did you not see the damage out on the battlefield?”

  Matt shakes his head. “This is different. It’s another group.”

  “Then we’ll deal with them, too.”

  “You’re still not listening to me, Estelle. There are more of them than you realize. Jason and I were watching from a distance when they rolled up.”

  “Jason? Is he with you? I wondered what had happened to him.”

  “He didn’t make it,” Matt says. “He died trying to get in here with me to warn you.”

  “People do seem to come off second best when they rely on you for support, don’t they?” she says, goading him unnecessarily. “My Mr. Franklin, your lovely girlfriend, and now Jason.”

  Matt bites his lip. He could react—he wants to react—but he doesn’t have the strength. Instead, he pauses for a second to compose himself, clears his throat, then tries again.

  “Look, Estelle, I understand why none of you wanted to listen to me before, but I’m begging you to listen now. The Haters you’ve been fighting … I think they’re just a small faction. While we were out there, a whole bloody army rolled into town.”

  “And how do you assess the capabilities of this army? What kind of weapons do they have? How do you think they’ll fare against my tanks?”

  He shakes his head. “No weapons as such, just numbers. Vast numbers.”

  “How many?” Chappell asks, sounding concerned.

  “There’s got to be close to a thousand of them. You’re massively outnumbered.”

  “And you’re sure they’re Haters?”

  “Well, they didn’t like the look of me and Jason.”

  “Where did they come from?”

  “Somewhere to the east. Can’t be more specific than that. They’re well organized, though. A class apart from the Neanderth
als you’re currently scrapping with out there.”

  “None of this makes any difference,” Estelle announces, interrupting the back-and-forth.

  “What?” Chappell says. “But, Estelle—”

  “You heard me.”

  “Don’t you think we should at least check out what he’s saying? If there are as many of them as he claims, then we need to—”

  “I said it makes no difference whatsoever. They are savages, and we will continue as planned. My army—a real army—is about to leave this place and slaughter each and every one of those foul bastards.”

  Matt can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Christ, you’re starting to sound like one of them.”

  “Don’t insult me. I’m doing this because I have to, not because I want to.”

  “I think they’d say the same thing. From what I’ve seen today, going out there all guns blazing would be suicidal.”

  “And with all due respect, Matthew—which, at this late stage in the game, really isn’t much—you’ve barely seen a fraction of what we’ve achieved here these last few days. You also have zero military experience. You have no idea what my forces are capable of.”

  “What, that lot out in the parking lot?”

  “Don’t give me a reason to throw you out there for the Haters to finish off.”

  “Why not? That’s what you’re planning to do to your people, isn’t it? Please just think about this, Estelle. I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t think you fully appreciate what they’re capable of. You’re all only seeing little bits of the puzzle from here, and you’re playing with your people’s lives.”

  “These people are assets. They knew what they were signing up for.”

  “They signed up for this? I thought we were all just here by default.”

  “It’s only my soldiers who’ll be going out there to fight.”

  “Leaving this place defenseless.”

  “It’s a necessary means to an end.”