Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Z-Payback

by Hatchett

  “Can we put some music on?” Daryl asked.

  “No we fuckin’ can’t,” Mamba replied, getting seriously irritated.

  Daryl was about to say something else but he saw the slight shake of the head from Ahmed. Ahmed knew the signs that Mamba’s patience was reaching breaking point, and when he got in this mood, literally anything could happen.

  Suddenly there was a shout from the Barricade.

  Mamba got out of the Defender and looked to the spot where Hakan had re-appeared.

  “Sully says he’ll see you, but if you don’t apologise straight away, he’ll shoot you before you have the chance to say anything else.”

  “Apologise for what?” Mamba asked, confused.

  “It’d take too fucking long to go through your rap sheet,” Hakan replied.

  Mamba considered the offer. He couldn’t for the life of him think what he’d done to piss off the Turks, but he was sure Ahmed would take great pleasure in reminding him. The problem was, he didn’t like apologising for anything, especially for something which in his mind he hadn’t done. But, then he thought about the people in the Tower of London and Heathrow and relented.

  “OK, but ya tell Sully I ain’t done anythin’.”

  Hakan laughed, big, loud, guffaws, his head thrown back. “What planet are you on, man?”

  Mamba got back into the vehicle and Ahmed started the engine. He pulled forwards as part of the barricade moved to one side and they entered the compound.

  “Mamba, you betta fuckin’ be careful, man, or we’re all dead.”

  “Keep calm Ahmed,” Mamba replied, looking at the people and buildings as they drove in.

  “I’m not the one who needs to keep calm,” Ahmed retorted.

  30

  Day 10 – 14:00

  Dalston Estate, East London

  Hakan walked slowly down the centre of Laurel Street, the Defender idling and about two hundred other Turks following close behind. More and more were appearing from all corners of the estate as they moved along, young, old and the infirm. No one wanted to miss this; it was the most exciting thing to have happened for over a week.

  “You’d think the fat bastard would have a car or a bike or somethin’,” Mamba commented as he watched Hakan walk with each leg swinging around at almost forty-five degrees due to the fat on his inner thighs.

  “Mamba!” Ahmed cautioned.

  “Well, for fucks sake! I don’t wanna watch that fat fuck’s arse wigglin’ in my face, thank ya very much!”

  After about one hundred metres, Laurel Road swung around to the right and headed back towards Dalston Road and another barricade. But, Hakan wasn’t going in that direction. He had gone straight on, onto a path between the different sections of the estate. There were bollards on the pavement so there was no way the Defender could follow.

  “Now we know why he hasn’t got a car,” Ahmed mused.

  “Yes, but the fucker could’ve used a bike,” Mamba pointed out, “if there’s a bike strong enough.”

  “But then we wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. Come on, looks like we’re on foot.”

  “Lock the car and bring the keys, Ahmed. I don’t want these fuckers nickin’ it or the gear inside,” Mamba advised.

  The four of them got out of the Defender and Ahmed locked it. They quickly jogged to catch up with Hakan as he moved along the pathway called Kirkland Walk, people now on either side making a sort of tunnel for them to walk along.

  “No danger of gettin’ lost,” Mamba mumbled under his breath. “Jus’ like the fuckin’ Christians bein’ escorted to the lions.”

  He caught up with Hakan and could hear the larger man breathing heavily.

  “You wanna be careful, Hakan,” Mamba suggested sarcastically, “ya could have a heart attack exertin’ yerself so much.”

  “No, you want to be careful Mamba,” Hakan replied over his shoulder and wheezing, “or your tongue might end up as dog food.”

  “Ya still got dogs ‘round here then?” Mamba asked.

  “Only the two-legged kind.”

  Mamba followed in silence, not exactly sure what Hakan was on about.

  Hakan took them past a grassy area on their left and at the end of the path turned left onto a narrow road which had been closed off by barriers at each end. By now, people were hanging out of every window to get a look at the newcomers. Judging by the looks on some of their faces, Mamba wasn’t sure whether they were being considered as food or bait.

  At the end of the closed off road, they joined Cumberland Close, towards the South Eastern part of the estate. Right in front of them was a church which had been converted into a museum. ‘I guess there’s no call for Christianity ‘round here’, Mamba thought to himself. He now understood why it had taken Hakan so long to go to speak to Sully.

  31

  Day 10 – 14:15

  Dalston Estate, East London

  Hakan led them to the front door of the church and knocked a couple of times. The door was opened, and they were ushered into a vestibule with half a dozen huge bodyguards standing around.

  “You can leave your weapons on there,” Hakan indicated a side unit.

  Mamba and Ahmed looked at each other then shrugged. If the Turks wanted them dead, they’d be dead by now. They both emptied their pockets of guns and knives and moved towards the doorway to what was once the Nave. They were patted down then waited until Daryl and Jenny had also been searched. Mamba was surprised to see one of the bodyguards suddenly give Daryl a hard slap until he saw him remove the boxcutter from one of his pockets and place it on the side unit. Mamba glared at Daryl as he caught up and Daryl was left in no doubt that he was in trouble once Mamba got him alone. Jenny stepped between them to try and keep the peace and Ahmed quickly steered Mamba into the Nave.

  The Nave was a large room of about twenty metres long and ten to fifteen metres wide. Looking upwards you could see all the way up to the wooden rafters. The pews had been removed, as had the altar and anything else that had any connection to the original church. Instead, it appeared to have been turned into a huge red Turkish sitting room; there were red patterned rugs all over the floor and hanging from the walls, low level seating with red throws over them and massive red matching pillows. There were lots of little tables dotted around with what looked like bowls, cups and silver tea sets on them. The windows had been covered by wooden latticework and diffused light filtered between the gaps highlighting the smoke in the room and showing off a variety of patterns for each of the different surfaces and materials it touched.

  And in the centre of the room towards the back wall, looking like an angry Jabba the Hut, was Sully, in all his opulent finery. Mamba walked forwards and dodged a couple of statues of some ancient old man and a lion-type creature before homing in on Sully, flanked all the time by the bodyguards.

  Mamba stopped a few metres from Sully, the old man staring at Mamba as if he was a piece of shit the cat had dragged in. Sully must have been at least seventy or eighty but could equally have been over a hundred. His thinning hair was now all grey, but it was obvious he still liked to dye it. His beady eyes were almost lost in the rolls of fat on his face and you couldn’t tell where his chin ended and his neck began. As for the rest of him, it simply wasn’t possible in the gloomy room to distinguish his body from the carpet and throws he was sitting on. He must have been about twenty-plus stone in weight, the sort of person who, when they needed to leave the house, had to get the fire brigade to take off the roof of the building or create a massive hole where the door usually stood.

  Mamba had never been in this building before. In fact, he’d only had the misfortune of meeting Sully face to face on a couple of occasions, and neither of them had been what he would call amicable.

  The silence in the room continued unabated, both men looking and sizing each other up. Eventually Mamba couldn’t help himself.

  “You’re lookin’ well, Sully, and I see you’ve done the place up a bit,” he started, as he looked
around. “Very…um, red.”

  Sully looked away.

  Mamba was confused and looked towards Hakan who gestured that he should make his apology. It took Mamba a few seconds to cotton on, but once he had, he turned back to Sully, who was still looking away.

  “I’m sorry for whatever I’m supposed to have done,” he offered. Christ, did that stick in his throat!

  Sully’s large head slowly moved back to face Mamba once again, about the same pace as the sun moving across the sky. There was no smile and no warmth in his withering glare.

  “It seems I’m having a close encounter of the third kind,” Sully started, referring to Mamba’s attire.

  Mamba was thoroughly confused, but then he thought he’d figured it out. “I have regular close encounters,” he replied, thinking of all the bits of skirt he’d shagged and dumped, a broad smile forming on his face.

  “Of the third kind,” Sully repeated. “Extra-terrestrials rather than extra-maritals,” Sully added by way of explanation.

  Mamba wondered what the old fuck was on about. Had he lost his marbles? If he had, then Mamba was well and truly in the shit.

  “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” Sully asked with the beginnings of a small smile.

  “Not really,” Mamba replied cautiously. He wished he had his piece; he’d shoot the fat fucker. The trouble would be finding a spot on the huge frame to cause any damage.

  “Just having a laugh at your expense. It’s a film about face to face contact with aliens,” Sully explained, “and with what you’re wearing, you could be one of those aliens.” He started laughing at his own joke and a few of his entourage followed suit.

  ‘What the fuck are ya on ‘bout old man?’ Mamba thought to himself. Instead he said sarcastically, “It’s the new trend.”

  “Well, I’ve not seen anyone else wearing that,” Sully commented drily, pointing at Mamba.

  “I’m the one settin’ the trend,” Mamba replied.

  “Is that so?” Sully asked rhetorically, getting bored of the conversation. “Tell me what you want, Mamba,” Sully asked wearily. His voice was weaker now, almost a whisper, and Mamba could feel himself leaning forwards and tilting his head so he could hear better.

  “I’ve got a deal to put to ya. Very profitable.”

  There was a long pause. Mamba wished Sully would get a fuckin’ move on. At this rate he’d be dead of natural causes before the conversation was over. Sully had a coughing fit punctuated by laughter.

  “Profitable for who?” he asked once he’d regained his composure.

  “Both of us,” Mamba replied eagerly.

  “Where have I heard that before?” Sully whispered, slowly shaking his large head. The rolls of fat undulated like the waves on the sea. Then he started coughing and a young female to one side quickly brought him a cup of something to drink.

  As he waited and his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Mamba noticed two or three young women standing in attendance, and a much older one sitting behind Sully. Mamba guessed that he wasn’t going to be introduced to any of them, which was a shame, because one of the young women looked very pretty indeed.

  “So, what do ya think?” Mamba asked.

  “I haven’t heard your proposal yet. You and your friends better sit down. Can my girls get you anything?”

  Mamba was sorely tempted to push his luck on the woman front but thought better of it. There was plenty of time for that later. Instead he said, “Ya got any Turkish Delight?” as he sat on one of the low sofa-looking seats.

  Ahmed’s eyes rose to the rafters high above. Only Mamba could come up with a request like that.

  Sully snapped his fingers, and like a magic trick, one of the young women brought over a tray containing hash and some roll ups.

  “I meant real Turkish Delight, but this will do nicely, thanks,” Mamba said, already rolling a nice fat joint. Once he was done, the young woman produced a lighter and Mamba lit up and puffed away.

  The tray was offered to Ahmed, Daryl and Jenny but they all declined. Ahmed just hoped that Mamba didn’t get out of his tree on the stuff. He was a nightmare at the best of times and Mamba going into some sort of funk was the last thing they needed.

  A second young woman brought a small table over and a third started pouring what looked like Turkish tea into small glasses.

  “So, tell me your proposal,” Sully ordered.

  “Well, simple really,” Mamba started. “I know where you can get all the fuel, guns and ammo you could want. Oh, and, helicopters. With rockets.”

  “So, why don’t you go get them?” Sully asked, with either a frown or a grin on his face, it was impossible to tell.

  “Well, there’s only me and Ahmed, so we’d need a bit of help.”

  “Is that so? And what about these other two?” Sully asked, pointing in the general direction of Daryl and Jenny. “What are they doing here with you?”

  “I saved ‘em,” Mamba advised.

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Sully muttered.

  “I brought ‘em here as a peace offerin’ to ya,” Mamba advised.

  Jenny’s head whipped around to look at Mamba, a frown across her face. “What are you talking about Mamba?” she whispered harshly.

  “A peace offering?” Sully enquired, turning to take a closer look at Daryl and Jenny. “Bring them closer so I can see them properly.”

  Four of Sully’s bodyguards moved from behind the seats and took hold of Daryl and Jenny’s arms, dragging them to their feet then pulling them closer to Sully.

  “Mamba!” Jenny shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?” she demanded as she was dragged across the floor.

  They stopped a couple of metres away from Sully and Jenny could now see the old man in more detail, far more than she would have liked. To her, he just looked like a giant slug.

  Sully looked Daryl and Jenny up and down then nodded his head. The bodyguards started tearing the clothing from Daryl and Jenny’s bodies, both of them trying to fight back but to no avail. Once they were naked, Sully stared a little more, lingering on Jenny’s body and licking his lips at the thought of getting some use out of it.

  “She’ll do,” Sully said with a smile on his face. “Tie her up.”

  The two bodyguards holding Jenny marched her off towards a separate room as she twisted and turned and screamed as she tried to get away. “Mamba, you bastard! I’ll get you for this!”

  Sully turned to Daryl, “I’m sure some of my boys could make good use of you,” he advised and nodded his head.

  “No!” Daryl screamed as the two bodyguards holding him took him off in a different direction.

  Sully turned back to Mamba with a broad smile on his face. “I accept your offering. Let us eat and drink to celebrate, then we’ll talk more about this business.”

  As Mamba puffed away and drank the rest of his tea, a serving girl arrived with a silver tray containing figs, dates, grapes, plums, and a large jug of Raki. A second followed with another tray filled with a selection of smaller little dishes of Pilaf rice, Borek, a variety of Kofte and lamb kebabs.

  Mamba and Ahmed tucked into the food and drink, Mamba drinking a whole cup of Raki in one go and holding up the cup for a refill. They were both hungrier than they’d thought and wolfed down the food. As they were eating, Jenny was dragged back into the room, still naked but now with manacles around her wrists and ankles, and chains tied to each. The bodyguards attached the other end of the chains to previously unseen metal hoops screwed into the walls behind Sully. Jenny was then pinned to the wall, spread-eagled and unable to move. She was also unable to speak as she had been gagged.

  “Let me show you what happens to bad girls,” Sully said over his shoulder. He didn’t bother trying to turn around; it would have taken too long. He nodded his head and the older woman sitting behind Sully rose to her feet. She turned and walked to within a metre of Jenny and opened her mouth wide; she had no teeth and there didn’t appear to be any tongue in the g
aping maw. She then closed her mouth and opened her dress-like garment to reveal scars where her breasts had once been. She closed the garment and went to sit back down in the same position as before. ‘Obviously not the wife,’ Mamba thought to himself.

  Jenny’s eyes had bulged in horror at what had happened to the poor woman and she was scared that it might happen to her. She knew she’d have to play along for the time being and wait for an opportunity to escape. She looked towards Mamba, and if looks could kill, he’d have been in Hell before he knew it.

  “Are you going to behave?” Sully asked without turning around. He waited until a bodyguard nodded then Sully nodded back. The bodyguard moved over to Jenny and removed the gag. She kept quiet, although inside she was absolutely livid. Tears ran down her face, tears of frustration and rage.

  32

  Day 10 – 14:45

  Dalston Estate, East London

  Mamba outlined what had happened over the past week or so since the outbreak and described his plans for their newfound wealth and answered questions as they went along. He helped himself liberally to the hash and the Raki as he told his story, his exploits being exaggerated the longer the story went on. By the time he had finished it was getting dark outside and the servants began lighting candles all around the room.

  As usual, Mamba didn’t tell Sully everything; to do so would sign his own death warrant. He’d no longer be needed, and he had no doubt that Sully would want to be rid of him as soon as possible, regardless of his acceptance of Mamba’s apology and the gifts of Daryl and Jenny. It was the world they lived in, and if the boot had been on the other foot, Mamba wouldn’t hesitate in taking Sully out.

  As things stood, they had a sort of symbiotic relationship where they both needed each other; Sully to get weapons and potential slaves, Mamba to get revenge, although he kept this to himself and let Sully think he was also after the weapons. Ahmed watched with interest but took a back seat and had no part in the discussion.

  “It seems to me that there is great risk,” Sully opined.