“This must be hitting the Island hard as well, I wonder how they’re doing?” she said.
A knock at the door signalled the arrival of one of the technicians, a woman called Martinez.
“Sorry to intrude, we have an urgent transmission form the Island, they are in trouble,” she said with a slight sound of panic in her voice.
“Well, there’s your answer,” said Mr Morton.
“Come on, let’s go,” said Dr Garcia as she headed for the door and down the corridor to the radio room. Mr Morton was hot on her heels.
As they entered the room they found four more crew working on the equipment. The oldest in the room, a scruffy looking technician called Darcy, spoke first.
“We’re having trouble locking in on their signal, the weather is hitting us hard,” he said.
A voice crackled over the radio and Dr Garcia grabbed the headset and listened carefully.
“The storm has breached our perimeter. We have debris that has blocked off our drawbridge and they’re trying to break in,” the message was followed by more crackling before it continued, “outer barricades, trying to hold,” and then the signal stopped.
“This is the Flotilla, we are en route and will be with you in two days, do you receive? Over.”
There was more crackling and just a few words could be made out, but they added nothing to what they already knew. Dr Garcia lowered the headset and turned to the rest of the crew in the room.
“Did you get anything else out of them?” she asked.
“Only that they say they can hold for twenty-four hours, maybe thirty-six. They said something about a causeway but we didn’t get the rest,” said Darcy.
“Shit!” swore Dr Garcia.
“Look, they are holding, for now. Get the captains on the radio in the operations room, we have some decisions to make,” said Mr Morton.
Dr Garcia nodded as she left the room. As she moved through the door she turned back to Darcy. “Let me know if you get back in contact. Also, if you do, tell them we are coming, just tell them to hold on,” she said.
Darcy nodded as they left. Suddenly the radio crackled and he called Dr Garcia back. “They want to speak to you, Doctor.”
The operations room was bustling with a dozen people as well as the video conferencing facilities that had been organised years previously when the Flotilla had spent all of its time at sea. Using this technology the captains of the vessels could meet and discuss plans even when a long distance apart. The storm was starting to recede but it still rocked the vessel and forced anybody not standing securely to lose their footing. Mr Morton moved to the centre of the room and Dr Garcia stood nearby.
“As some of you have heard, the Island is under threat. From the information we have received, and checking our satellite surveillance, we think the causeway, that joins the Island to the rest of the peninsula has been breached by debris or fallen trees. The Island is well equipped and supplied but they are under attack. The last report said the undead were across the causeway and at their outer barricades. From what we can tell this causeway is large but they have cut a wide trench to create a natural barrier that is defended my multiple layers of walls. The trench is blocked and they are across and trying to break through the walls.
If they do not receive help the creatures on the rest of the Island will keep pushing forward until they find a way in. They have three layers of walls but they won’t last forever. The last estimate was that they had twenty-four to thirty-six hours left before the defences become untenable. It seems now that they have even less time. After that the Island will be breached and it will be like Hawaii all over again,” he said.
Captain Jones, the leader of one of the smaller ships spoke first, “I might be out of line here, but why are we risking all we have left to get to another island that is already being attacked. Haven’t we been here before?” he asked.
“A valid point,” answered Dr Garcia, “but the Island is different to everywhere else we have been. It is large, self-sufficient and has the people and equipment to completely restart a society. If we can help them we can quickly clear the causeway and with a bit of work clear the Island. It is close enough to New Zealand that we can use it as a floating base of operations, but not too close that the undead could wade across. In short it is the best chance we have seen in years,” she said.
Captain Black called out from the computer monitor at the end of the room.
“It looks to me that we’re running on a time critical path here. If we arrive too late we lose the Island, this fleet and probably our future. Do you agree?” he asked.
A low murmur echoed around the room before he continued.
“The Flotilla is moving at the speed of the slowest vessel. This means we’re maintaining about nine or ten knots. At this speed we’re not going to make it in time.”
“We can’t increase the speed of our ships,” said Captain Jones.
The murmur in the room spread to argument as the scientists, crew and handful of marines started to voice their personal plans and ideas. Dr Garcia brought her hand down hard onto the table, creating enough quiet to speak.
“I believe the Captain was speaking, perhaps you would give him the courtesy?” she said with a sense of irony in her voice.
“Thank you,” said Captain Black before continuing, “the Harpers Ferry is the most modern vessel in the fleet. We have the greatest speed as well as our hovercraft. If we push her to the limit we can get twenty two knots, maybe a little more if we push the diesel engines. We can also take the Jarvis. She’s much smaller but can match our speed and will allow us to take more people, we’re going to need every fighter we have for this.”
There was silence in the room before Mr Morton interjected.
“Thank you, Captain, that’s a bold suggestion. Time as we know is of the essence. Does anybody have another suggestion?” he asked.
Nobody spoke and each person looked at the next as though the magic answer would just appear. Dr Garcia moved closer to the display and Captain Black.
“As you know, under normal circumstances we would take a vote on such an important discussion. Being as we have just one option, I give you my blessing. We pray you reach them in time and will join you as quickly as we can. Good luck, Captain, and keep us updated as to your progress. I will get volunteers to your vessels in the next fifteen minutes.”
Captain Black nodded, “We’ll see you all on the Island, good luck to us all.”
The screen flickered and then went blank.
CHAPTER 19
Resolution Island, New Zealand
Rushing through the inner and middle gates, Bruce rode through the troops amassed at the gate and walls, ready to fight. He looked up at Dylan on the wall.
“Get this ammunition shared out immediately, just bear in mind it’s all we have left!”
He untied several quivers from the horse and carried them up to the wall as others helped. Finally stopping to look out across the plain, a horrible shiver ran down Bruce’s spine, the sight of a countless horde before them, almost as far back as the trench, and getting increasingly bigger.
“Fuck me, what a nightmare.”
“Be thankful you’re this side of the barrier, mate,” said Dylan.
“Get shooting as quickly as you can, make sure the shots count, but no point in saving them, we need to cull these bastards as best we can.”
They handed out the ammunition along the wall, but it was spread pretty thin. Within minutes, bolts and arrows were pouring into the crowd below.
“Any word on the fleet?” asked Dylan.
“They’re getting a shift on, best they can do.”
“Fucking Yanks, never on time for anything.”
“Better they exist and are coming than not, or we’d be completely fucked.”
“Do you think they can make a difference?”
“They are our last hope,” said Bruce.
“Do we have a plan?”
“Hold the wall as
long as we can, if it gets breached, move back to the middle wall, and hope we can hold that!”
“Sounds like a great plan!”
“If you’ve got something better, let me know!” shouted Bruce.
The two men picked up their crossbows and joined the fight. After an hour’s shooting all the ammunition they had was gone. There were hundreds of creatures dead outside their walls, and yet it didn’t seem to have made much difference.
Hackett arrived with another ninety people, mostly a mix of teenagers and women, but all equipped as best they could to fight. Bruce climbed down to meet their leader, disappointed not to be giving better news.
“Hackett, our ammo is out, and we’ve barely made a dent in their numbers, now we have no weapons to fight them from the walls.”
“Stones,” said Hackett.
“What?”
Hackett turned to the crowd he had led.
“Listen up, the arrows and bolts are gone, but it is vital that we keep fighting at the walls, we need to collect rocks, as hefty as you can find and carry, amass them between the inner and middle walls, go!”
The sound of the wooden gates shaking under the pressure and hammering of the creatures was ever resounding in the background, the two men turned to look at it, surrounded by Bruce’s men, ready to fight. Looking down the length of the wall, they could see parts of the palisade swaying under the pressure of the horde.
“Should we fall back to the middle wall?” Hackett asked.
“If this wall falls so quickly, we’ll never defend the other two for long enough,” said Bruce.
“You want to fight them in the breach?”
“I don’t see we have a choice, get all your people to the middle wall and keep building up any stocks of weapons, rocks, anything, at those walls!”
Hackett rushed off to attend to the middle layer of defences. The outer wall was by far the shortest defensive line, another reason that Bruce was so keen to defend it. The middle wall was half a kilometre in width, and the inner defence wall stretched far more. Bruce climbed back up the ladder to the tower where Dylan watched the horde, completely out of ammunition.
“Hey, mate, get half the guys along the battlements to set up on the middle wall, Hackett is piling rocks for them to use once this wall goes.”
“What are we gonna do with rocks?”
“Throw them you fucking idiot! Get the other half of your guys to join us at the bottom ready to fight at any breach.”
He grabbed the chair that he had spent so many sunrises sitting in and pulled it up to the front of the watchtower, and sat down, relaxing slightly. There was nothing left to do now but wait, wait until a breach was created, and hope that that time would not come too soon.
Hours passed with the horde at the walls, and the Islanders sat around, never fully relaxing. At 3pm women from the town carried water and food down to the fighters, who gladly accepted them. It was an uncomfortable meal, never being able to drown out the drone of the horde. Hours more passed until the sun was finally going down.
“Connor! Hit the lights!” shouted Bruce.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it can’t do us any harm now, and I’d like to at least see what I’m fighting!”
Connor jogged back through the gates of the middle wall, and a few seconds later the lights along all three barricades spluttered and came to life. The defensive lines were lit up like a glowing beacon. Bruce could see many of the lights swaying back and forth as the palisade wall shook and swayed under the immense pressure of the horde.
“Connor! Spread the guys out, I want full coverage inside the wall, we have no idea where the breach will come!”
Before Connor could react, part of the wall in front of him buckled and a large piece of the palisade collapsed onto him. He was wearing a metal kettle helm from his re-enactment days, but the trauma knocked him to the ground unconscious.
“Get to the breach!” Bruce called.
The creatures took full advantage of the small hole in the wall and began pushing and pulling on the next wooden poles of the wall. Bruce jumped onto the ladder. Wilson ran to the breach with his hammer as the first creature pushed its head through the increasing gap. As it opens its jaw in anticipation Wilson smashed the hammer onto its skull, and struck a second time to be sure. Bruce reached the ground and rushed to Wilson’s side, joined by Gordon and Bart.
“Give them hell!” shouted Bruce.
The breach was quickly pulled apart, wide enough for three creatures to get through at a time, but it was fortunately a small enough bottleneck for the Islanders to keep the fight contained. The five men at the front fought in a semi circular fashion. Christian hauled Connor onto his shoulder and carried him through the middle gate, placing him against the inner wall. The fight went on for thirty minutes, when the five men at the front were utterly fatigued, their arms barely able to lift their weapons any longer.
“Christian! Grab some guys and get ready to take over!”
Five men fresh from a rest, led by Christian rushed forward replacing their weary comrades. Bruce shambled over to Brooke who was waiting with the other fighters behind the breach. He was utterly exhausted, breathing heavily, sweat dripped from the sleeves of his gambeson and streamed down his face.
“Brooke, we need to rest up, we’ll head for the middle wall, you tell each group to head back to me as they grow tired, once the last group is done, tell them to get their asses back through the gate quickly!”
“Alright, boss, we’ll keep up the fight.”
Bruce nodded, barely able to speak anymore, he staggered back with his fatigued friends through the gate, where Amy and Dylan were waiting.
“What a fucking party,” said Bruce.
He slung his mace onto his belt and climbed the ladder to the tower where Hackett was stood, watching the fight unfold before his eyes.
“How are we doing, Bruce?”
“I reckon we can hold that wall for a couple of hours, maybe a little longer.”
“That’s far from ideal.”
“Tell me about it,” Bruce answered.
“You look exhausted.”
“This isn’t Lord of the Rings, real people get tired.”
“I hadn’t realised it would happen quite so quickly though,” said Hackett thoughtfully.
“You got the rocks ready?”
Hackett walked over the south side of the tower and pointed out across the wall, the battlements were stacked with rocks.
“I still have people out there finding what they can, it’s the best we can do.”
Bruce slumped into a chair in the tower of the middle wall and watched the fighting at the breach, a complete stalemate. The fight went on for ninety minutes until only one team was left at the outer wall, led by Keith. They had been fighting for just a few minutes when Bruce was drawn to a large creaking sound of the gate, and it finally burst open, one of the doors flying off its hinges.
“Keith! Get your men back!” Bruce shouted.
Keith looked around at the creatures already pouring through the gates.
“Christ! Run!”
The five men turned but as they began to move Keith was grabbed by his left arm and pulled into the horde as they poured through the breach. None of the other fighters had seen him disappear into the foul mass of creatures, each desperately running to the middle gate. The terror and fear of potentially being locked out and at the mercy of the filthy beasts was enough to keep their pace up. The four men charged through the gate and watched in relief as Dylan and Amy swung the gates closed.
“Dylan!” shouted Bruce.
“Yes, boss?”
“We need to bolster those gates, we cannot have them falling as quickly as the first, get some tree trunks and bolster them between the gates and ground, that should help a lot!”
“I’m on it!”
It was a matter of minutes before the horde began hammering at the middle wall. Bruce climbed down onto the main battlement and picked up the
biggest rock he could find and leaned over the edge, throwing it with force. The large jagged rock crushed the head of a creature, smashing it into a bloody pulp on the ground.
“Have that, ya bastard!”
The other fighters along the wall followed suit smashing the creatures below with the rocks. Another thirty minutes went by and the last of their ammunition was gone. Bruce climbed back up to the tower where Hackett was watching the progress of the battle.
“What now?” asked Hackett.
“We’ll bolster that gate, but there’s nothing much left to do but wait, fight if they breach, fall back to the last wall if we can’t hold, and fucking hope the Yanks arrive in time to do some of the work.”
Bruce walked to the edge of the tower and looked out across the survivors who stood watching the horde with nothing to do but wait.
“Listen up all of you!”
The Islanders turned to listen, only just able to hear him over the sound of the groaning and bloodthirsty horde below.
“I know you’re all tired, but the chances are that help will be with us soon, maybe by the morning. We just have to hold! I think we are safe here for at least a few hours, so I want you to get some rest, take it in shifts, get any sleep you can, even if it’s just an hour!”
“You think the walls will hold till then?” asked Hackett.
“Maybe, the horde can’t get quite as much pressure on here, they have the remnants of the outer wall blocking them, and they are spread over a wider surface area, we have a reasonable chance.”
“Then get some sleep, I’ll take watch here.”
“It’s much appreciated, mate.”
He slumped in his chair, his clothes soaked through with sweat. Within minutes Bruce was asleep, not because he was at peace or comfortable, but because he was thoroughly exhausted. His worries and stresses were not enough to keep his eyes open. Six hours later he was abruptly woken up by shouting. He leapt to his feet and looked down to the gate where he could see Dylan hacking away at a creature, other people were joining him in the fight. Looking out across the main landmass of Resolution Island to the east some light was already shimmering off the forest, it was almost daylight. Hackett appeared at the top of the ladder and jumped into the watchtower.
Zombie Dawn Apocalypse Page 19