Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Z-Payback

by Hatchett

  Everyone paused for a second.

  “You’re not playin’,” Mamba pointed out. “Motorbike?”

  “Correct.”

  “Yeah! Get in there!” It was like Mamba had won the lottery or scored the winning goal in the FA Cup Final. When he finally calmed down, he asked, “Where’s the fuckin’ motorbike then?” He couldn’t see one.

  Ahmed pointed to his left. “In that motorbike shop.”

  Mamba looked past Ahmed to where he was pointing. “See, ya fuckin cheated. Told ya.”

  “Why have I cheated?”

  “Everyone knows ya have ta be able to see the fuckin’ thing.”

  “Well, we can all fuckin’ see ‘bout twenty of the fuckers in the window.”

  “That’s the point!” Mamba barked. “Ya have ta see it with yer naked eyes, not through some fuckin’ windows.”

  “Who says?”

  “It’s in the fuckin’ rules.”

  “What rules?”

  “Fuck off Ahmed, ya know the rules!”

  “I think it’s fine,” Daryl pointed out from the back seat.”

  “One more word from ya Luca and you’ll be playin’ ‘ring a ring a roses’ with them fuckers out there and ya won’t have time to fuckin’ sneeze before you’re down boy! Get me?” Mamba said staring hard at him.

  Daryl sat back with his two hands up, palms facing Mamba, hoping to calm him down.

  “I also think it’s fine,” Jenny jumped in, quickly ducking behind Mamba’s seat at the same time.

  Mamba swivelled but couldn’t see her. “If ya didn’t have a pretty face, I’d do ya right now.” He sat back in his seat and looked straight ahead. “Yer all fuckin’ cheats,” he muttered under his breath, “BUT I STILL FUCKIN’ WON!” he shouted and punched the roof of the vehicle.

  Daryl was about to say, ‘no you didn’t’, but Jenny put a restraining hand on his arm. She felt there was only so far you could push Mamba before he reached breaking point, and that point was very, very close.

  “Know what I’m thinkin’?” Ahmed asked.

  “How could I know what a plank like ya was thinkin’,” Mamba replied, “and if I guessed, you’d only fuckin’ cheat anyway.”

  “Fancy a ride?” Ahmed asked, ignoring Mamba’s pettiness.

  Mamba saw him looking towards the motorbike shop. “Fuck yeah!”

  23

  Day 10 – 10:15

  Butcher Row, East London

  The Lynx heli carrying Issy and four other soldiers hovered over Butcher Row, the downdraft blowing zombies over and keeping them out of reach as the team of five jumped the last couple of feet to the ground, knelt and formed a circle pointing outwards as the heli took off again and headed in the direction of the Green Park Estate.

  Issy and the team had got themselves ‘dirty’ before leaving Heathrow; they’d just allowed a zombie into the secure area, stabbed it in the head then cut it open and covered themselves with the blood and entrails. All in a day’s work.

  Issy now checked the area carefully; there were a few zombies heading in their general direction but the vast majority in the area had tried to follow the noise of the heli as it flew off.

  The team shouldered their MP5’s and pulled out sturdy, sharp Bowie knives and proceeded to take out the stray zombies.

  Then Issy looked around again, this time concentrating on the armoured truck, lying on its roof next to a tree, some bollards and a road sign. She signalled to move and all five edged towards their target. When they were three metres away, Issy signalled to stop and listened carefully to any sounds which might be coming from the truck. There was nothing, so Issy signalled the other four to provide cover while she went to investigate.

  Issy came up to the rear of the truck, noting the mangled frame. Some pieces of metal had been warped and other parts looked like they had melted. She checked to the right, which was the left-hand side of the upside-down truck, and noted the many exit holes; she knew they were exit holes because the metal had been pushed outwards by the projectiles escaping it. She then moved a few paces to her left to see the right-hand side of the truck. It was immediately apparent that this was where the missile had struck; there was a large hole in the side where it had entered and smaller holes everywhere. She wouldn’t have wanted to have been within fifty metres of the truck when the missile hit and she could see why the Apache pilot and co-pilot thought that there could be no survivors.

  Issy felt differently; her gut was telling her that Mamba must have survived and a small part of her was actually quite pleased. She hadn’t had the chance to meet the prick during the past few days, but she’d heard enough about him to know that she very much wanted to make his acquaintance, and the sooner the better. She had dealt with the gang’s leaders, but this little piggy had escaped, she was sure of it, and she wanted him badly. What she’d done to the Judge and Jury would be child’s play in comparison to what she had planned for Mamba.

  Issy continued moving to her left alongside the right-hand side of the truck. She could see the driver’s door was wedged open and whilst this wasn’t conclusive evidence, she was pretty sure she knew what she was going to find when she looked inside; nothing.

  Issy glanced into the large entry hole and noted the warped and blackened metal inside. She saw the remains of a butt from a rifle sticking out of a lump of unrecognisable metal and what looked like a magazine and barrel of another gun sticking out of other molten piles. It was clear that nothing in the rear compartment would have survived, metal nor flesh.

  She moved forwards and saw that she wouldn’t be able to open the middle cabin as the door was welded shut, so that left the driver’s door. She took a few paces back and slowly lowered herself to the floor, switching the knife for her Glock pistol. She certainly didn’t want that bastard to be in there with a gun pointed at the door and a big smile on his face as he pulled the trigger. If he was in there, he’d have had plenty of notice to get himself prepared.

  Issy lay still and waited and listened carefully. She could wait all day if necessary but didn’t think that would be necessary on this occasion. She was pretty sure the cabin was empty but wouldn’t bet her life on it.

  From where she lay she could see all the debris on the floor of the cabin but couldn’t make out any shapes. She crawled around a little further to see the front of the vehicle and noted the crazed and bloodied windscreen.

  She then crawled back to her original position, the gun never moving from the driver’s door. Then she slowly made her approach, pausing every few feet to listen. She got to within touching distance of the door and tried to peer inside again. She could see a little further inside, and what looked like a body, but nothing of any detail.

  ‘Shit or bust time’, she thought to herself as she crawled the final few feet and put her left hand in the air and started waving it around in the doorway before quickly snatching it back. If there was anyone in there, waiting with a gun pointed at the door, they would have fired at that point. Unless they had a knife.

  Issy edged forwards and took a quick look inside the cabin. There was no movement. She hauled herself in, and without realising it, sat with her back to the windscreen in the same way as Mamba had done hours earlier. God, it stank in there and her movement had disturbed swarms of flies buzzing around what were obviously bodies. She looked around the cabin and shifted some of the rubbish to see what was underneath. Some of the plastic and empty wrappers were obviously fairly fresh, otherwise they would have been burnt or the inside of the packs would be covered in blood, soot or melted food.

  The lump she had seen from the outside was a dead body, and this one had a knife wound from his neck to groin. That wasn’t done by accident and definitely wasn’t self-inflicted. No, it was done by someone who knew all about getting ‘dirty’.

  Issy didn’t recognise the body, but she didn’t expect to. She didn’t know Mamba nor any of his close colleagues. But, to be certain, she raised a hand to her head and switched on the light and came
ra located there. She then clicked her comms earpiece and said, “Are you getting this?”

  “Roger Issy, I can see clearly,” Tom came back from the Security Command Centre.

  “Is Daniel or any of the others from the Tower there?”

  “Yes, Daniel’s here. Hold.”

  A few seconds later, Daniel’s voice came through her earpiece. “Hi Issy. That one is Dodge. I assume he was already dead before that happened?”

  “Yes and no. He was a zombie, otherwise there would have been no point in using him to get dirty.”

  “OK. Any more bodies?”

  “Not in this cabin. Hold while I look in the second cabin.”

  Issy rolled and got to her knees and lifted herself so she was looking over the partition into the middle cabin. She heard Daniel draw in a sharp breath when the light and camera focused on the three objects lying on the floor.

  “Not so easy to tell,” he began, “but that looks like Skelly, Bird and Smiley.”

  “Not so fucking Smiley now is he,” Issy noted.

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Where’d they get these names from?”

  “No idea. Isaac, Zak, Grace or Nelson would know. You’ll have to ask them.”

  “It’s not important. What is important is that Mamba is not here and that means he survived.”

  “Don’t forget Ahmed.”

  “What?”

  “Ahmed. Mamba’s closest ally.”

  “Shit. Two survived. I could do with photos of the two, otherwise I’m liable to shoot any black person I come into contact with, which isn’t ideal as I’m heading towards the Green Park Estate.”

  “Why are you going there?”

  “I wanted to get the lie of the land and see the estate for myself, so I arranged for the heli to wait for us there.”

  “OK, have fun.”

  “Thanks Daniel. See you later.”

  Issy clicked off her comms and shut down the light and camera. She then crawled back out of the truck and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the fresh air outside. It had been rank in that truck.

  She signalled for her team to close in and she explained what she had seen and what they were going to do next. She warned them to be extra careful and be on the lookout for two black guys made up to look like zombies.

  “Well, that’s unlikely,” one of the team pointed out sarcastically, “a couple of black zombies around here.”

  “Yes, well, joking aside, these two are lethal so keep your eyes peeled,” Issy cautioned.

  24

  Day 10 – 10:45

  Matt’s Motorbikes, Cambridge Heath Road, East London

  They both got out of the Defender at the same time, and ran towards ‘Matt’s Motorbikes’, slamming into a couple of zombies on the way. Ahmed got to the door first as he was nearest, and as he entered he heard Mamba shouting, I’m having a Ducati, ya can have some Japanese shite.”

  They entered the shop; row upon row of gleaming metal.

  Mamba moved straight towards a red Ducati Panigale V4S.

  “This’ll do for me,” he said in excitement.

  Ahmed was inspecting all the bikes. “Get a fuckin’ move on, it’ll be dark soon,” Mamba said sarcastically.

  Ahmed eventually selected a Yamaha YZF-R1M in silver, blue and carbon.

  They both sat on their chosen rides and pretended that they were in the middle of a MotoGP race, making all the expected noises of the bikes they were sitting on. They both stopped messing around when they heard some shuffling from the back of the shop and Mamba quickly got off his bike and withdrew his knife. He moved across the showroom and saw a zombie in the far corner, near to a sales desk. He closed the gap quickly and stabbed the zombie in the head without pausing. Then he entered what looked like the back office and started hunting around for keys.

  “Hey Mamba,” Ahmed called out. “Jus’ had an idea.”

  “Good for you,” Mamba shouted back, rifling through a set of drawers. There were no keys so Mamba looked around the office some more. He spotted a metal cabinet on the wall and crossed over for a look. The box was locked so Mamba thought he was on the right track. He used a knife to try and lever the front off, but he was more likely to break the blade, so he pulled it out of the gap and put it back in its holder on his waist. He looked around some more but couldn’t see anything which might be able to open the box, then he had another idea.

  He returned to the downed zombie and went through its pockets. On the third attempt he felt a set of keys and pulled them out. He went back to the box and started trying the keys out. Eventually he found one which fit, but it wouldn’t turn the lock. He checked the keys which were left and found one of the same style that had actually gone into the lock and tried that. The door opened to reveal about thirty sets of keys, luckily each neatly labelled. Mamba checked them until he came to the two sets he was looking for and pulled them off their hooks. He then retraced his steps to where Ahmed was now standing in a full set of black leathers and matching helmet.

  “What the fuck ya doin’? Mamba asked.

  Ahmed opened the visor. “Goin’ for a ride; if we fall off then we’ve got protection. Plus, if them fuckers get too close, there’s no way they could bite through this shit. It’s like armour.”

  Mamba looked a bit closer and touched the fabric. Ahmed was right. You could probably wear this gear and not have to worry about getting dirty, although if the fucking zombies worked off smell, then it was still probably worthwhile smearing the gear. At least it would mean you wouldn’t have the crap on your skin. “Let’s get some of these in the back of the Defender. We could sell ‘em.”

  “Sell ‘em? What fuckin’ use is money?” Ahmed asked.

  “Not for money, ya plank! For other stuff,” Mamba explained, “or for favours,” he said with a wink.

  Mamba quickly got into a set of the clothing, grabbed a helmet and placed it on his head. He then grabbed everything he could carry off the rail and walked back to dump it in the back of the Defender. Ahmed did likewise, grabbing gloves, helmets, boots and other clothing. They took four trips between them and by the time they were finished the back of the Defender was piled up and stuff was falling over into the backseats where Daryl and Jenny were sitting.

  “What are you doing?” Jenny asked.

  “Good protection,” Mamba pointed out. “Get some on.”

  Jenny saw what he meant and was about to say something, but they had both gone. She selected some clothes and started trying them on, encouraging Daryl to do the same.

  The next thing they knew, there was a roar of motorbikes.

  25

  Day 10 – 11:00

  Butcher Row, East London

  Issy and her team of four moved slowly up Butcher Row, looking carefully for anyone or anything that might be Mamba and Ahmed.

  They reached Commercial Road and turned West, and without knowing it, almost followed in the footsteps of Mamba and Ahmed from hours earlier.

  They continued along in silence until Issy raised her hand to stop. She then pointed to a wall across the street with the legend ‘MAMBA WAS HERE!’ scrawled across it.

  ‘What a fucking idiot,’ Issy thought to herself. ‘Tracking this bastard is going to be a piece of piss.’

  Issy signalled to move out and they recommenced their slow shuffle down the road. Once they reached East Arbour Street, they turned down it and walked to the far end and Aylward Street with the Green Park Estate opposite to their right.

  Issy led them to the barrier and shouted to the guards on duty. They had been forewarned about the new arrivals and quickly opened the gates for Issy and her team to enter.

  Waiting for them was Samata. She welcomed Issy warmly and led them off for something to drink.

  “We can show ya the apartment which was sabotaged if yer like,” Samata offered, “but we may have somethin’ more interestin’.”

  “Oh yes?” Issy asked, “What’s that then?”

  �
��One of the girls livin’ in a buildin’ opposite, Jamelia, says Mamba and Ahmed stayed at her place. They left yesterday mornin’.”

  “OK, so we’re about twenty-four hours behind them,” Issy noted, as they entered the building and headed up the stairs. “Where is this Jamelia and can she be trusted?”

  “She’s in my apartment at the moment, and yeah, she can be trusted. I think Mamba may have taken advantage of ‘er in more ways than one,” she added with a rueful look on her face.

  Issy knew that look and felt her blood boil at the thought of yet another Mamba offence. Oh, she wanted this piece of shit badly and she wouldn’t rest until she had.

  They went up the four flights of steps and headed along the corridor to Samata’s apartment. Samata took them into the lounge, introduced them to Jamelia and went off to the kitchen to get some drinks.

  Once they were all settled Jamelia started to tell them her story. At one point, she broke down in tears and Issy asked her four team members to go get some air. Once they had left, Jamelia continued with her story, leaving nothing out. Issy showed no emotion on the outside, but inside every fibre of her being was screaming.

  Once Jamelia had finished, Issy left her with Samata while she and her team left to scout all around the building, spending more time outside the apartment which had been sabotaged. The team spread out, and despite the downtrodden earth all around, thought they could distinguish footprints heading towards the park. They followed the footprints, but it was clear they would never be able to track them much further, and it was not even clear that they belonged to Mamba and Ahmed in any case. Realistically, they could have gone in any direction.

  Issy and the team returned to the estate and Samata met them in the stairwell on the fourth floor.

  “Any use?” Samata asked.

  “Not sure. Difficult to tell,” Issy replied. “Just one question, what’s on the other side of that park behind you?”

  Samata thought about it. “That’s Stepney Green Park. The other side is Stepney Green and if you keep goin’ you come to the A11.”