by Hatchett
“And me,” Ahmed confirmed.
“I’m going back to the pub,” Basir advised. No surprise there.
“OK. We meet on the middle floor of that cark park,” Mamba ordered, pointing out of the window at a three-storey car park not far from them. “We should be able to see everythin’ from there. Basir, when we go out, I want ya to go left and drop your bombs off every few hundred metres. No quick movements, the actin’ needs to be good. Ahmed, Ayla, you follow me to the right and after you’ve dropped your bombs, you come back to this car park, middle floor.”
“What about the smaller bombs?” Basir asked.
“Remind me how they work,” Mamba ordered.
“Normally, they can be set off in one of two ways,” Basir explained, “either a delayed timer or following a large concussion. These ones have been set up for concussion and work as a secondary explosion when the main bombs go off. So, they have to be within about fifty metres of the main bomb.”
“The original plan was to chuck ‘em over the fence, but now I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mamba advised.
“Why?” Basir asked.
“’Cos someone might see us throwin’ ‘em ‘or someone might find ‘em.”
“Why don’t we just leave them next to the fence to create more holes?” Ayla asked.
Mamba though about it. “Yeah, good idea babes, let’s do it. Are ya ready?”
There were nods all around.
“Right, off ya go Basir. Be lucky.”
Basir cautiously left the office and shuffled in the direction of the airport fence. Where possible he tried to say close to other zombies and kept close to those heading in the same direction he was going. He wanted to get his part over and done with as quickly as possible then get back to the safety of the pub.
Mamba and Ahmed lit cigarettes as Ayla left the office ten minutes later.
“What do ya think of ‘er bro?” Mamba asked.
“I like ‘er and even better, she’s not scared of ya,” Ahmed replied.
“I’m a pussycat,” Mamba said.
Ahmed just shook his head.
“She’s a wild one, I’ll give ‘er that,” Mamba added, unconsciously rubbing some of the scratches and bite marks under his clothes.
“Really?” Ahmed replied, sarcastically. “I’d never have guessed, ‘specially with all that screamin’ goin’ on.”
“Yeah,” Mamba smiled wistfully, “that girl can’t half scream. If it was an Olympic event, she’d win Gold hands down. Maybe I oughta stuff ‘er face into a pillow to shut ‘er up.”
“Well, she couldn’t scream with ‘er mouth full,” Ahmed suggested.
Mamba thought about it. “Ya got a point there, bro,” he agreed with a smile. ‘Bout time ya got yourself some skirt as well.”
“Plenty of time bro, plenty of time,” Ahmed replied. “You betta get goin’.
Mamba looked at his watch, took a quick drink from a bottle of water he’d taken from his rucksack then screwed the top back on and put it away. He then fist-bumped Ahmed and carefully left the office.
Mamba took his time retracing his steps to the airport fence. Basir had gone left and Ayla would have gone right. Mamba went straight ahead into a cargo area which was still outside the fence line. He had seen some planes on the other side and wanted to see if he could get a couple of the smaller bombs close enough to blow them up. That would keep the fires burning and attract the zombies.
As he shuffled along bent over, with his eyes facing the ground a few yards ahead, he concentrated on his peripheral vision. He spotted an open hanger door facing the airport and shuffled in that direction. He just had a better idea and the art of a good leader was to change the plan according to the situation, and in this case, it meant he wouldn’t have to go too much further.
He entered the hanger and scanned all around. It was some sort of depot and by the look of things, it would burn very nicely indeed.
He took off his rucksack and removed one of the larger bombs before going back to the gap at the entrance. He took his time and carefully scanned the area for CCTV cameras. He spotted two nearby and dismissed the ones he could see on the main buildings in the distance – he didn’t think these could cause him any trouble because they were too far away, so he focused on the two nearest to him. They were both on top of high poles, about a hundred metres apart, and as he looked further along the perimeter, he could see more of them at similar intervals. He then looked to see which way they were pointing and was disappointed to see that they were all pointing in different directions and moving the whole time. Therefore, he would either have to work out a break in the coverage near him or he would have to be extra vigilant.
He decided to plant one of the large bombs in the hanger. Whilst it wouldn’t breach the perimeter fence, it would make a fantastic bonfire and attract more zombies into the area. He would be left with two main bombs and three of the smaller ones. He already had one of Ahmed’s bombs against the fence nearby, so he didn’t need to place any more around here.
He then moved slowly to the far end of the cargo area and found a barrier entrance to the airport on Eastchurch Road. The people inside the airport had blocked off this entrance with a couple of coaches and a bus. Mamba had wire cutters in his rucksack, so he could cut through the fence, but he daren’t go inside the perimeter looking like a zombie. If he was spotted, he’d probably be shot, and the alarm would be raised, and the people would no doubt search the whole area trying to find out how he got in, and they might also find the devices. Not worth the risk, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t cut some of the fence to give them something else to think about.
Mamba surveyed the coaches and the bus closely and realised that they were unoccupied and that he might be able to use them very effectively.
Using some zombies for cover, he made his way over and once he had checked the cameras weren’t pointing in his direction, took off his rucksack and pushed it under the middle vehicle before dropping to the floor and rolling underneath it. It was a bit of a squeeze and he couldn’t get very far; they’d obviously let some air out of the tyres to make sure the gap wasn’t large enough for anything other than a rat to crawl under. He wriggled around until he could reach into the rucksack and bring out another of the larger bombs and one of the smaller ones. He switched them both on, left the big bomb where it was then rolled the smaller one until it was sitting below the second vehicle. He considered using another of the smaller bombs for the third vehicle but decided that it wouldn’t be needed. He then scanned the immediate area from beneath the bus and saw that the nearest plane was around twenty to thirty metres away. He wasn’t sure if he could skim one of the smaller bombs along the concrete surface so decided not to try. Ideally, he’d have loved to see the planes go up in flames, but he had to be realistic.
He looked towards the CCTV cameras from beneath the vehicle, and when the time was right, crawled back out and quickly put his rucksack back on. He then quickly merged with a group of zombies nearby and just stayed in position for a few minutes, surveying the area and gathering his thoughts. He thought of Basir, Ayla and Ahmed and hoped they were all OK. He also thought about the other two groups but decided there was no point in dwelling upon any of them because there was nothing he could do about it now.
He decided to continue walking along the perimeter road. As he went along he spotted a flatbed trailer parked parallel to the fence on the airport side, and seeing various sandbags positioned like gun emplacements, realised that this must be a checkpoint or guard tower of some kind. Thankfully it was currently abandoned.
He passed an area holding JCB’s and CAT’s. This must be where they stored the snow ploughs and suchlike. He was about to move on when he suddenly stopped and looked back. There were also a few lorries but something else had caught his attention; there were also a couple of fuel trucks. Obviously, he didn’t know if they were carrying any fuel, but even if they weren’t, there should still be a residual amount of fuel in the
tank, and this could cause a bit of mayhem for the surrounding vehicles.
Mamba waited until the CCTV’s were pointing in other directions and quickly retrieved one of the smaller bombs and launched it in the direction of the nearest fuel truck. It was only when the device was airborne did he remember the warning from Basir that the bomb was a concussion bomb and that he shouldn’t jump up and down too much, or something like that. He wished he could take it back as he watched it arc over the fence and close in on the trucks. He didn’t realise it but he had crossed his fingers as he waited for the bomb to land. It felt like he was like watching it in slow motion and he found he had plenty of time to berate himself and worry that he might have literally blown the whole operation.
The bomb landed with a loud clanking of metal, but thankfully didn’t go off. Mamba breathed a huge sigh of relief then realised that the bomb was still a few metres short of his intended target. It was clearly visible but there was nothing he could do about that now, other than pray to a God that he didn’t believe in that no one would accidentally stumble across it. Then he realised that it wouldn’t go off unless another large bomb was placed nearby. The one he had placed under the coaches was much too far away.
As he looked around for a suitable site to place his final large bomb, he spotted a metal object close to the fence a little further along.
Mamba made his way towards the object and was extremely pleased to find that it was one of the larger bombs, obviously one placed by Ayla’s. He could’ve kissed her. A shit place to put it, but as it happened, it had solved his problem.
Mamba continued his walk around the perimeter. He had one large bomb left and one of the smaller bombs, so they’d both have to be placed relatively close together. The road straightened and went on for what seemed like miles. He looked into the airfield from time to time and saw nothing but grass and runways.
A little further along he saw a large group of people milling around tents and tables. He watched for a few minutes, noticing that some appeared to be carrying shovels. Perhaps they were burying the dead? No, they were gardening. Why the fuck would they be gardening? There was nothing there except grass, and who gave a fuck if it was a bit on the long side? Then it dawned on him that they were planting food. Well, he’d soon see to that! He moved along the fence, closing the gap between himself and the gardeners.
When he drew level, the people were only twenty or so metres away and a bomb here would create a nice gap for the zombies to trample all over their hard work. He was about to unload his last bomb when three or four men split off from the group and headed in his direction, carrying tools of some kind. Mamba turned away from them and started shuffling away from the fence, retrieving his knife at the same time. Once he felt he was out of range he slowed and turned. It was just as well he’d moved away from the fence because the next thing he saw was a pitch fork being stabbed through the fence’s metal meshwork into the head of a zombie which had been pushing up against it. The men let the dead zombie dangle, laughing and joking at what they had done. Another guy with a hoe turned it around and slammed the end into the zombie’s face, causing it to slide off the pitch fork and fall to the ground. There was further laughter as the men turned and went back to what they were doing.
“Won’t be fuckin’ laughin’ later’, Mamba thought to himself as he shuffled back in the direction of the fence. The dead zombie would provide decent cover for the bomb he was about to plant.
After depositing his last bomb, Mamba shuffled a little further down the fence and deposited the smaller bomb in some tall grass next to one of the posts before retracing his steps back towards the car park and their meeting point.
48
Day 13 – 13:15
Multi-Storey Cark Park, Heathrow
Mamba was on the middle level of the three-tier cark park, sitting on the floor near the centre leaning back against the front bumper of a pink Volkswagen Beetle. ‘Must be a hairdresser’s car’, he thought, ‘fuckin’ horrible colour’. Still, the position was ideal for the time being; he could see when Ayla and Ahmed turned up, he could keep an eye out for any stray zombies coming too close and he couldn’t be seen from the airport. He had a bottle of water in one hand and a cigarette in the other when Ayla came strolling slowly down the aisle, looking all around for either Mamba or Ahmed.
Mamba quickly stubbed out his cigarette and crawled between the Beetle and another vehicle, pulling his rucksack out of sight. He discarded the rucksack and crawled to the back of the vehicle before getting up into a crouch and started moving between other vehicles in Ayla’s direction, but making sure he wasn’t spotted. Once Ayla had passed his position, he started shadowing her and waited until she stopped and settled down, much like he had done.
Mamba was grinning from ear to ear as he crawled silently in her direction. He got to within one metre and shouted ‘Boo!’ Ayla almost jumped out of her skin but was up on her feet with a knife in her hand within seconds. She looked down at a grinning Mamba, her heart thudding in her chest.
“I should fucking stab you for that!” she shouted, as Mamba rose to his feet.
“Bit nervous ain’t ya?” Mamba asked, still grinning.
Ayla took two paces towards him and swung her knife. Mamba ducked, and the knife went into the head of a zombie which had been closing in on Mamba from behind. Mamba looked up from his crouch and saw the knife in the zombie’s head, before Ayla withdrew the knife and wiped the blade on her leg.
“Should have let the bugger have a bite, shouldn’t I? Your fooling around is going to get you killed.”
Mamba had stopped smiling. He stood up and gave the dead zombie a heavy kick to the head for good measure. “Sorry,” he muttered and stomped off to find his discarded backpack.
Once he returned, Ayla was sitting on the bonnet of a Ford Fiesta and drinking from her own bottle of water. Mamba climbed up next to her and lit another cigarette.
“Did ya manager to place all yer bombs?” Mamba asked between puffs.
“Of course. You?”
“Yeah. I wonder how the others are gettin’ on.”
“Nothing we can do about it.”
Mamba looked around before looking back at Ayla with a big grin on his face. “I’ve got an idea,” he advised.
Ayla closed her eyes and said, “It better not be any more childish games.”
“Well, it could be,” he replied. Depends on you.” With that he got off the car and walked thirty metres or so to a camper van. He tried the door, but it was locked so he turned his back to the glass panel in the door and swiftly put his elbow through it. He then reached inside, undid the lock and opened the door. He then turned to Ayla and beckoned her over. “Time for some childish fun,” he suggested.
Ayla grinned and said, “but what about Ahmed?”
“What ‘bout him? He ain’t here, and even if he was, he ain’t joinin’ in. Yer all mine.” He held out his arm to indicate Ayla should go first and smacked her backside as she went up the first step.
“Boy, you’re in big trouble,” she warned as Mamba followed and closed the door behind him.
*****
An hour or so later, Mamba jumped down from the camper van to find Ahmed sitting on a car just a few metres away. It looked like he was eating as Mamba wandered across to him.
“Havin’ fun?” Ahmed asked as he noted Mamba’s presence.
“Like ya wouldn’t believe, man,” Mamba replied. “Still, we’ve got a few hours to waste so what betta than spendin’ it in the sack? Ya get the bombs down?”
“Yeah, bro. Gonna be fireworks tonight.”
“Fuckin’ hope so. I ain’t walked this far for nothin’. Anyway, what ya eatin’?”
Ahmed held up a sausage roll. “Got ‘em on the way back from a shop down the road. A few days out of date but tastes OK. Want one?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Ahmed rummaged in his rucksack and started pulling out all sorts of wrapped snacks and drinks. “Plenty of room now them
bombs have gone,” he explained.
“Good idea, Bro,” Mamba replied, helping himself to a Peperami as Ayla came out of the camper van and headed in their direction, her hair sticking out in all directions.
“Help yerself,” Ahmed offered, and Ayla selected a couple of chocolate bars, Mamba watching her with interest as she undid the first wrapper.
“Thanks Ahmed.” Ayla replied.
“You’ll get fat eatin’ ‘em,” Mamba stated.
“Not with the amount of exercise I’m getting,” Ayla responded, with a cheeky smile.
She noticed that Mamba was still staring at her, so she opened her mouth and slid the bar of chocolate in as far as she could, then started moving it back and forth slowly and sensuously, keeping her eyes on Mamba the whole time.
Mamba nearly choked on his Peperami and quickly grabbed his bottle of water to take a drink. Ayla was laughing as Mamba coughed a few times, his eyes starting to water.
“Gone down the wrong way?” Ahmed suggested, not having witnessed Ayla’s show.
Mamba spluttered a little more before replying. “Nothing wrong with that way, bro.”
Ahmed was puzzled by the response but shook it off and looked at his watch to see that it was 2:45pm. “We’ve still got hours to kill,” he observed.
Mamba looked at his own watch. “Yeah, and no beer and no music!” he replied. He looked towards Ayla. “How old are ya?”
“Twenty-two. Why?”
“Jus’ wonderin’ if ya like music.”
“Some.”
“What ‘bout…” he turned to Ahmed, “What was that fuckin’ tune ya liked and I didn’t?”
“Down Under,” Ahmed replied without thinking.
“That’s right, fuckin’ ‘Down Under’. What do ya think of that?” he asked Ayla.
“Dunno what you’re on about,” she replied.
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Mamba advised, “means ya got some taste, unlike my friend Ahmed here.”
Ahmed just shook his head and sighed.