by Al K. Line
"What?" said Ven.
"Nothing," said Kyle. "Shall we get on then?"
"Time to party," said Al, pumping the air and looking as keen as a kid with a free pass to a candy store.
The plan was simple in its approach, but they all knew it was never going to be as straightforward as they envisioned.
Was it ever?
The main issue, apart from the brain eaters, was baby Tomas. It had led to some serious arguments since they had begun traveling on Basil bus. Ven wanted to go along with the guys nearly every time they left to scavenge, feeling safety was always in numbers. But it increased the risk of something happening to either her or Tomas. Sometimes she understood it was not practical and would stay, but she never felt they were safe and believed the baby was better protected in the company of the men as well as her. Kyle, only just having found out he was a father, was dead-set against them coming on this expedition. Al thought it best they all went. This time Ven was unsure either way. She decided, finally, that in the end it was best that they went as a group: that way they had the best chance of getting in and out in hopefully only a few hours. It meant she wouldn't be left alone on Basil bus freaking out about Tomas getting eaten while the men were off doing what needed to be done.
There was never an easy call regarding what was the safest decision.
Risk of encounter was higher outside of the bus, but if left alone then there was nowhere to run to if something did happen to go wrong. And from past experience the less you wanted something bad to happen the more likely it was to come and try to bite you on the bum.
The morning events were pushed to the back of their minds, time to focus on the present. The cool freshness of the waterfall was already a distant memory to Ven. A few hours can mean a lot.
They stood just outside the entrance, hot summer sun beating down on them. It was only 1 p.m. but the weather was freaky strong. Sweat beaded their faces — sunshine and fear was a heady mix. Kyle had on his Napalm Death t-shirt. Al had on his best multi-pocketed camouflage jacket with re-enforced elbows. Tomas was wrapped up tight in his carrier, hugged tight to Ven, makeshift protection stuffed around him on all sides. Ven was wearing her favorite blouse; no point facing the zombie hordes without some style. Bos Bos just had a dashing red collar on, and an inquisitive face.
He sniffed the air suspiciously. It smelled like authority to Bos Bos, and he was a bit of a maverick if truth be told.
The building was imposing, it was built to demonstrate not only the power of the company, but to appeal to its clients: showing off, looking extremely robust, and exuding dominance. The door was huge, towering over them, large pillars either side declaring their solidity like only Soviet inspired architecture can.
The bus was parked in the vast frontage to the building, ready to leave in a hurry if needed.
"So, this is weird already," said a wary Kyle. "No mess, no bodies, no cars all over the place. It's just all so.."
"Tidy?" finished Ven.
"Yeah. Tidy. Cars just parked neatly, nothing damaged, and there should be bodies. There are always bodies." Kyle was spooked, everywhere they went there were always bodies, always the smell of rotting flesh, and a large place like this must have had a very substantial workforce. Office workers, management, countless drivers, warehouse staff. It would have been in the hundreds. Judging by the large number of parking spaces still occupied then there was no way that there shouldn't be corpses outside, festering in the sunshine, attracting birds, wild animals and insects.
Ven took some time to take stock of the place. The building was definitely impressive, if you liked that sort of thing. The parking area was clean and tidy, cars lined up like a normal day at work. The large grassy banks and numerous trees and shrubs designed to hide the building from other less imposing structures were litter, body and even damage free. All in all it was like the zombie botnet had never happened. Like everyone was merely inside working as normal. As if the groundsmen had just finished mowing the lawns and pruning the hedges.
Something was definitely not right at all. It was way too normal. In the ravaged world she found herself in anything seemingly normal made it hard to not freak out.
"Ugh."
"What?" asked Kyle.
"Fly. It landed on my nose. I hate it when that happens. It feels tickly for hours afterward," said Ven, scrunching up her nose, trying to itch it and get rid of the sensation.
"We should be going? Ven, if you are making the nice dinner in two hours then we should be doing... the shopping?" Al was unsure of the right word, he was getting very hot and bothered, finding it increasingly hard to focus in the heat. The thought of food was too distracting if he wasn't occupied with a task.
"Alright then, let's get this over with," sighed Ven. "After you guys. Age before beauty."
Weapons at the ready, they entered the gloomy interior. The temperature dropped at least ten degrees the second they were through the door.
"Now I am definitely freaked out, the door wasn't even locked." Ven was getting a very bad feeling about this afternoon's shopping trip.
"Why would it be? If everyone was infected then the doors would be open," said Kyle.
"Yeah, and there would be bodies everywhere and zombie hordes trying to eat our brains. Look at this place." Ven gestured expansively, not that it needed any kind of introduction to make it seem weird.
Before them was a huge foyer, taking up a large part of the ground floor. Clinical and depressing as only buildings trying too hard to show off wealth and style can be. It receded into the distance, the still shiny tiled floor stained suspiciously dark in patches. It had obviously been cleaned very recently, no blood, no dead, no signs of life at all. Elevators on one side of a small waiting area could be seen at the far end, past the security checkpoint and a large reception desk. Huge lettering on the wall behind it shouted authority.
"Not exactly warm and inviting is it?" said Kyle.
"I am thinking Al would not be a happy man being in this building on days all week," said Al. He counted the number of dead potted plants nervously, trying to calm his unease. Never afraid of zombies, the weird dead feeling in the building was giving him the creeps. Al was not a fan of artificial environments, they set him on edge and he often ended up becoming increasingly erratic in his behavior if ensconced in them for too long.
"It's like a morgue in here, makes me really spaced out. Kind of dead and cold. Hard to explain actually. Those fuc— stupid plants make it seem worse, not better," said Kyle, eyeing the now mostly dead foliage suspiciously. They did nothing to make the place feel welcoming, making it creepier if anything.
Bos Bos sidled over to a large date palm just past the security gate on the left and lifted his leg. You never knew, maybe it just needed some special Bos Bos watering to get it back in good health.
"Right, let's try to make this as fast as possible and as safe as possible. No splitting up, no running off on your own, and absolutely no leaving me and Tomas behind. I know you guys are going to be faster than us but this needs to be done as safely as we can do it. Okay?"
"Roger that," said Kyle, saluting.
"That is being Rogered," saluted Al.
Ven looked at Al suspiciously, she had a gnawing feeling that the big guy was being a bit cheeky. He looked back at her, using his most best and perfect innocent face.
Sucker.
The team were outfitted as best they could be. Kyle had the shotgun, his backpack loaded with cartridges. It was not his weapon of choice however. His trusty antique mace, with its heavy weight and sharp flanges on the head, made it a much better weapon for combat as far as he was concerned. Ven had her sword, sharpened especially for the occasion, sheathed at her side and ready to grab in an instant. A headband that matched her violet blouse made her feel like a bit of a gangster — but a pretty one. She was now firmly back to being herself — keeping up appearances, even if they were just on a raid. She finished off the look with matching eye-shadow, the violet color ma
king her look like a pretty, but menacing, zombie hunter.
It was all getting somewhat surreal whenever she took a step back to contemplate the life she now led. Half the time it felt like she was in some kind of sick reality show, or starring in a movie where she was a caricature of her real self. Even after everything that had happened part of her still couldn't accept that humans were now in the minority and there really were such things as zombies. Never mind that she had caused it through what must be the biggest act of stupidity the human race had ever seen. And always the question: how had it actually happened? And would she ever find out the truth?
Al, loathe to use anything but his hands, simply had a few deadly knives secreted about his person, as well as hanging from a practical hunting utility belt he had picked up when he was out and about alone. Surprisingly he didn't take much convincing to wear it and take the knives, just in case his huge fists needed a bit of back-up.
Al knew when it was time to get serious.
Protecting their actual bodies from attack was nigh on impossible, and this is why they were here. Sec UK was where all manner of hi-tech and advanced security equipment was housed, although, predictably, it was in the basement. It would be wouldn't it? You can't go having a zombie raid and it be in a nice happy place. Ven just thanked her lucky stars they didn't have to go into some dungeon or rough hewn cavern. From what she gathered the lower level was pretty much like the ground floor — clean, clinical, and immaculately fitted out. Just full of goodies normally only for the military and the armed police specialist units. In addition to all manner of equipment that could only be classed as 'survivalist' in nature.
The plan was to locate not only weapons that they could use to protect themselves, but also all kinds of personal security equipment. They had all discussed it. Al was the only one who didn't really see the need for body protection, the man was invincible. But he was eventually persuaded by the lure of a choice of weapons and any number of protective clothing options with more pockets than you could count — Al loved secret pockets.
After being given free reign with the shotgun in the walled garden to decimate the zombie hordes he had grown eager to own something smaller and more deadly. Handguns tempted him enough for him to agree that the plan was a good one. Ven and Kyle were primarily looking forward to acquiring some body armor. They felt almost naked having to deal with the undead wearing nothing but their regular clothes. Trying to invent, and rig-up, protective clothing from what they could scavenge had resulted in abject failure. Bits of their homemade gear kept falling off, and it wasn't exactly up to the job in the first place.
So it was time to get outfitted by the professionals.
Then Ven spoiled it by writing a list. In pink felt tip pen.
Essentials included body armor, guns of all description. Lanyards, goggles, helmets, knee and elbow pads, holsters, and anything else they found that would help eliminate the risk of being bitten and eaten by any infected they encountered. This was risky, they knew, but if they could pull this off then their life would be transformed. Weapons were what they needed, ones easy to use but totally effective. And clothing that would guard against bites. What better than a stab or bulletproof vest?
Just over the Welsh border, back into England, was a large complex of warehouses and industrial estates housing all manner of companies and transport vehicles. It was one of those vast self-contained business estates that had not only huge warehouses for picking and packing supplies, but also many corporate headquarters.
Sec UK, a division of Security Worldwide, had the largest building on the whole sprawling site. It was home to the goods warehouse in the underground level, a huge complex with thousands of racks for the fast expanding market of home protection, self-defense and personal survival equipment that was now available to all Online, but also more deadly equipment. Sec UK was licensed by the Government as one of the main suppliers of firearms to the United Kingdom police, private security and more covert sanctioned bodies that wanted the absolute best in terms of equipment, but without all the red tape. They also dealt directly with individuals on a less than legal basis if the money was right. And when it came to illegal weaponry there was always enough money — it was huge business and paid very well indeed. Even in the UK where gun ownership was minimal, legal or otherwise.
Security Worldwide, a rather innocuous name for the leading supplier of personal protection equipment and serious hardware, was but a division of a much larger corporation, one that was a leader in the supply of armaments to any country that had the money. Divisions of the company were set up to specialize in all types of equipment from hunting gear, camping and outdoor equipment, to over the counter personal protection. From pellet guns to supplying hand guns to private gun clubs, shotguns and modern archery equipment. They even owned two out of the three main outdoor clothing retail companies in the UK. The building Ven and the team were now in was the main facility for storage and distribution for all equipment shipped around the United Kingdom. Be it a stabproof vest sold on Amazon or eBay, through numerous supposedly independent retailers, or a Glock 17 pistol licensed to various authorized firearms officers.
The supply of equipment to many branches of the military and certainly to all private security firms was no longer Government run. Much like everything else that was once publicly run: rights had been sold off and privatized years ago. Company dividends and profit were now the driving force, not any guise of doing what was best for the populace.
Sec UK was a very good earner for the corporation as a whole. The UK was an expanding market. With fear of the next world war or bank collapse on much of the population's mind, bullet and stabproof jackets and all manner of survivalist equipment was a booming business.
Ven knew a lot about Security Worldwide, although she knew nothing of the larger corporation behind it. But what she had found out about the UK division was enough to make her shudder just thinking about it as she stood in the impersonal ground floor entryway to the company's headquarters. She had hacked into their databases years ago, every now and then delving back in to see just what they were up to. She was always too afraid to go too deep — she certainly told nobody of what she found. Ven was a highly intelligent woman and thus knew damn well that you never, ever, messed with companies that dealt in weapons sold to the highest bidder regardless of their political beliefs or motivations. It didn't stop her carefully siphoning off some serious amounts of cash over the years, mainly via fake orders that were never placed or shipped, but she took the cash extremely carefully. That was as far as it went, it was a petty payback for the dubious dealings she uncovered. Even that stopped over time as she became more paranoid about getting on the wrong side of such a deadly corporation.
It led to where they now were. She knew who they were, where they were based, and knew that the building housed basically anything they could think of in terms of personal security. It was like Christmas time for good boys and girls if what you asked Santa for was gear to face off the zombie hordes.
"Right, I guess it's time we went shopping then boys," said a resigned Ven. She never thought she would dread shopping, especially when it was free. "One last recap before we get going."
Kyle and Al sighed, even Bos Bos looked fed up, having watered all plants in the immediate vicinity.
"Weapons?"
"Check," said Kyle.
"Water?"
"That is a check on water," said Al.
"Shopping list?"
"Yup," said Kyle, looking disgustedly at the pink list he was made to carry.
"Flask?"
"Checkity check check," said Al.
Ven raised an eyebrow at Al, he really did seem to be enjoying himself. Bugger it, at least they had packed some coffee for if they had the chance of a cuppa.
"Sandwiches?"
"I am most definitely having the sandwiches," confirmed Al, patting his bulging rucksack happily. Food was imperative if they could be away for a whole two hours. Al might actually
starve to death if he went without sustenance for so long. He was a growing boy after all.
"Hardcore motherfuckers?"
"Check," said Kyle, patting his heart and smiling wickedly.
"Ten pence, and that is also a check," said Al patting his heart, frowning at Ven at the same time.
Ven adjusted the baby carrier so Tomas was deep down and snug, tightening up the straps so she could move more freely. Bos Bos got a pat on the head for luck, then they all made their way over to the rear of the building where the elevators and stairwell were that gave access to the various levels: up and down.
Ven pressed the button for the elevator, not expecting it to work.
Ding.
The up light came on and a few seconds later the elevator arrived.
Bugger, thought Ven. I wasn't really ready for this quite yet. Well, now or never.
Everyone took their best 'ready for a zombie attack' pose: sword drawn, shotgun pointed, fists held high, hearts hammering wildly. Bos Bos wagged at the doors menacingly (he thought). Tomas gurgled away dreamily.
The doors opened and all three charged forward simultaneously, weapons arcing to deal with the three zombies stood at the back of the elevator. Bos Bos had his teeth bared and was barking furiously. Tomas woke up and started crying, realized he was still happy really, and crashed back to sleep as only babies can.
There was an embarrassed silence.
"Um, guess that's us then," said a rather foolish feeling Ven, staring at herself and the other guys in the floor to ceiling mirror that made up the rear wall of the elevator.
"Yup," said Kyle.
Al just smiled sheepishly and dropped out of his bear hug stance.
Bos Bos sat down in the elevator, licked things only dogs are allowed to lick, and let out a nervous 'ftt'.
"Ugh, Boscoe!" Ven admonished.
"Perfect timing dude," said Kyle, holding his nose.
"Worse than egg sandwiches is the smell."
The doors began to close behind them. Ven stuck a foot out just in time — they bounced back open.