by MacCraw
“Stand back, mates”, Kirkley said as he prepared to blow the handle off of the door with his trusty shotgun. Kirkley took aim, but much to his disappointment, the gun clicked, as if it were sarcastically reminding him that he had fired off his last few shots when dealing with the dogs behind the fence.
“Just a thought, but maybe the door handle might be a good Plan B”, Hannah remarked.
“Oh zip it, Bootiful”, Kirkley replied, playfully spanking her. Hannah grinned, and slapped him on the cheek. Once the playful romantic exchange was finished, Hannah opened the door and held it open for everybody.
“Alright, wounded first”, said Kirkley. “Poet, Royce; help Kylie. Pack, you’ve got legs; use them.”
“Up yours, man”, Pack scoffed as he shoved his way past Kirkley.
“Find me Baby Bear’s porridge”, moaned Hannah, “Because I’m starving.”
“Ease down, Goldilocks”, Kirkley replied. “The bears are probably pissed that we broke into their shoddy little home. A home that never originally belonged to them, but a home nonetheless.”
“Hey, I’ve got good news, everybody!” Pack cheered upon walking into one of the rooms and looking at the gigantic stockpile of ammunition and firearms; “We’ve entered the magical land of Bullettopia!”
“You’re shitting on punji sticks”, Kirkley scoffed before entering and seeing what got Pack so excited and energized. There was an entire table loaded with a variety of weapons, weapon attachments and loaded magazines with ammunition of assorted calibers. Everyone rushed up to the table and began greedily snatching up all of the ammo sprawled out like a bunch of fat guys fighting over the last pieces of bacon at a breakfast buffet. Within a matter of seconds, every single item had been seized by one of the six survivors. Royce and Hannah were also able to take two weapons themselves; the American-made M4 carbine that had been extensively modified by the British Armed Forces, and a modular German rifle, a G36C with plenty of space for rails.
“Wicked”, Royce and Hannah said to each other.
“I feel like I picked up an energy crystal and got an extra life”, Pack remarked as he hand-loaded his MP5 magazines with more 9mm bullets.
“That was just a giant chunk of cheese”, Hannah scoffed. “If that’s your best shot, then you must be firing blanks.”
“Oh ha, ha”, Pack replied as everybody laughed at Hannah’s well-played sarcasm.
“This thing’s kind of cool, actually”, Hannah said as she examined her new toy. “Pretty weird-ass magazines, though.”
“I dunno why the Germans designed them that way”, Pack said. “The Germans also made the HK416 assault rifle, which can use standard M4 magazines that feed into L85’s as well.”
“…I have no idea what the fuck you just said…” Hannah commented.
“Alright, here it is in Layman’s”, stated Pack. “Why make something compatible with a number of other things, but make something completely different that isn’t compatible with those same things? Yeah, exactly.”
“Pack, just leave her be”, sighed Kirkley.
“Well, time to repel an invasion”, Royce announced.
“What do you mean?”
Royce gestured out the stained windows towards a patrol of unidentified survivors marching back towards their hideout. These survivors were armed, but like Kylie commented, these guys were nothing more than mobile ammo caches. Still, they were able to fight back, and Kylie was seriously wounded and an easy target.
“Alright, here’s the plan: Royce, stay with Kylie. You’re our last line of defense”, Kirkley said.
“Got it, sir.”
“The rest of you, with me. Shoot them as soon as you see them. Let’s catch them out in the open.”
While Royce kept watch over Kylie, the others prepared to charge out of the building and gun down the approaching enemies. Everybody was sweating in anticipation, but that didn’t mean that they were looking forward to a gunfight. That being said, they still were ready for one.
3… 2… 1…
The quartet of armed warriors surged out of the building and opened fire upon the other humans, who unexpectedly crouched down to lower their weapons and surrender. The others were too focused on shooting, but Pack suddenly had a mental lapse that caused him to realize that the people his friends were gunning down were harmless. Alas, it seemed too late, and only through loud screaming and quickly lowering the heated barrel of Hannah’s G36C despite the burning pain it caused was enough to get the others to stop firing. The result of the unprovoked gunfight was an immediate casualty count of 5, with the last two others seriously injured and panting furiously as blood darkened their clothing and spilled out from beneath them.
“Oh no”, Pack wept, “NO!”
“What have we… what have we done?” Hannah croaked, slowly dropping to her knees as she discarded her rifle.
“We can’t kill civvies!” screamed Pack. “That’s what the MEC did during the war!”
Kirkley rushed over to the two remaining survivors, who were struggling to stay alive. “Holy shit”, Kirkley sobbed as he cradled one of them, “We are so sorry… We didn’t mean to…”
“You monsters…” the dying man moaned. “You’re bandits. Bullies. Thugs. Black rats. May Su preserve our souls, and Sat damn yours.”
As he finished his hateful response, the man finally gave in to his injuries, and died in Kirkley’s arms, moments after the other survivor passed away. Kirkley closed his eyes and held the fallen survivor close to him, silently giving his respects for an innocent man who died during his quest to stay alive.
“How could we let this happen?” moaned Pack. “They- they didn’t even fire shots at us!”
“We’ve adopted the mental mindsets of true survivalists”, Kirkley deduced. “Kill or be killed. It’s kind of like police being trained to shoot to kill.”
“Except domestic police forces aren’t running from wolf men and looting food, supplies and weaponry wherever they find them.”
“Okay, listen up”, Kirkley announced, “We need to hide the bodies so neither wolf nor scavenger can desecrate them. We aren’t looting them. We caused this accident, and we aren’t going to reward ourselves with a replenishment of ammunition.”
“Logically, I can’t agree with what you’re doing”, Hannah said as she unloaded her G36C and counted how much ammo she had following the ambush, “But after experiencing and dealing with the deaths of three of my beloved friends, I understand the honor in respecting the dead. Pack, help me lug these poor folks up into the tower. Honey, can you and Poet give us a hand in making sure that the bodies will be safely locked up and out of harm’s way?”
“No problem”, Kirkley replied with a smile and nod.
…
The act of moving dead bodies riddled with bullets fired from the guns of Kirkley and the others was a very awkward and upsetting experience. The group felt absolute lament over what they had done, and wished that they could undo the damage that they had caused. Though there was no way of undoing what had happened, they could at least make sure that other, less morally-bound beings couldn’t defile or disrespect the corpses even further. In about 5 minutes, all of the bodies had been shuttled into one of the vacant rooms in the control tower, which had been locked up and boarded off to completely ensure that the fallen survivors wouldn’t be corrupted by the forces of darkness.
“How’s Kylie doing?” Kirkley asked as he sat down on the staircase next to Royce.
“I put her upstairs. She’s sound asleep, mate.”
“Good to know. Get upstairs and get some rest too.”
Royce left, and as he went upstairs he passed by Hannah, who was heading down to Kirkley.
“Hey, buddy”, Hannah cooed as she took a seat next to him, “What’s shakin’?”
“I want some bacon”, Kirkley sarcastically replied.
“Oh come on”, Hannah sighed, “You’ve been sitting here all stoically for like 3 hours.”
“Yes, I have”,
Kirkley firmly stated, “Because I just caused six deaths. I don’t want to cause any more.”
“Look, it wasn’t your fault”, said Hannah. Accidents happen, right?”
“Accidents that result in a bunch of innocent folks getting killed don’t tend to happen that frequently.”
“I know”, said Hannah. “And I feel horrible about it just as much as you do. But I mean, we didn’t do it like, intentionally.”
“But does that bring back the lives lost due to our own reckless impulsiveness? No, it doesn’t”, scoffed Kirkley. “Look, the bodies are being protected from the elements now, we’ve confessed our sins, let’s get some rest. We’re leaving in 9 hours.”
…
The cold night was bitter and hostile to everyone, but in different ways. All six of the survivors following Kirkley’s leader were feeling a form of deep pain; most of which was related to a form of loss or grief. Kirkley, Hannah, Pack and Poet were anguished by the murderous act they had committed, and Royce was still coming to terms with all of his customers getting annihilated in the pub he once knew as his home. Kylie was in pain because of her obvious wound, but the unconventional duct tape surgery was able to put her back together again until proper medical treatment could be administered. Despite these physical and emotional obstacles, they were still able and willing to push on and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
“Listen up”, Kirkley declared, “We’re moving out shortly. Everybody got enough bullets to spill into their furry hides?”
“I’m gonna bring ‘em pain”, Hannah snarled with an angry smirk on her face, cocking her rifle.
“Good. Keep it up”, said Kirkley. “Kylie, you able to walk? Or do you want your servants to carry you?”
“That’s not a bad idea”, chuckled Kylie, “But I’m really not feeling good. Sitting on my fat ass all night kind of made my legs take a snooze, and on top of that it kind of hurts to take each step.”
“I have an idea”, Kirkley proclaimed. “Poet, hand me your rifle.”
Poet’s facial reaction and body language were rather vulgar, since to hand off her beloved sniper rifle was like handing off a chunk of her personality and identity. Still her devotion to her team was a driving force that was forever unstoppable, and since she had formed a friendly bond with Kylie, Poet handed her GOL off for Kylie to use as a walking aid, so she wouldn’t be putting all of her pressure in her legs. In exchange, Poet received Kylie’s assault rifle, which Poet was also proficient with, but not to the extent of a sniper rifle.
“Alright, double column. Kylie, you stay near the center. Hannah and I are on point. Royce, Pack, need you gentlemen on rearguard action. Cover each other’s asses in addition to your own.”
The group stood in a double column formation that placed Kirkley and Hannah in the center, Kylie and Poet in the center, and Pack and Royce in the rear.
“I know we’re trying to get to Italy, but why exactly do we need to go through a city as enormous as London to do so?” Hannah asked.
“Of any point in the entire UK, London’s closest to the main continent”, explained Kirkley. “It’s a considerably shorter journey that’ll land us on the northern shores of France. If we follow the shore south, we’ll reach the waterway that runs through Paris, which can actually take us two-thirds of the way across the country, where we can hoof it the rest of the way, briefly cross through Switzerland, and get us down to Italy.”
“Wait, wait”, Pack said, “Listen.”
Everyone raised their weapons, expecting to hear an approaching pack of dog soldiers, but much to their surprise, the group heard a quiet, soothing sound that was brushing and sliding against a smooth surface. It almost sounded like moving water.
“What is that sound? I haven’t really heard it before”, Kylie asked as she cobbled forward with the sniper rifle as a makeshift crutch.
“Let’s get over and check it out”, Pack energetically proposed.
“Agreed. Mobilize, folks.”
…
Kirkley’s group spent 15 minutes on what really should have been a 10 minute hike, but only because Kylie was in immense pain. Kylie was a dear friend of everybody, and they would never even consider abandoning her. Her injury was severe, but it could potentially heal or at least hold together until a surgeon could treat her. In addition to using Poet’s gun as a crutch, Hannah and Kirkley also pitched in and helped their friend out by both carrying her equipment and giving her additional support. Poet, Pack and Royce were able to cover the sides and rear.
The source of the sound was discovered to be the cold shores of the North Sea, which was the primary obstacle between getting off England and getting to France. There was also a rather large boathouse on the shore, which gave the survivors a spark of hope.
“Anyone want to go surfing?” Royce commented.
“On a boat, so we can get off of this nightmarish place? Couldn’t agree more”, said Kirkley.
“Time to pull a B&E, mates”, Pack declared.
“Wait, I’m kind of scared”, Hannah nervously added.
“What’s wrong?” inquired Kirkley.
“I’ve got ophidiophobia”, Hannah shivered.
“Which means…?”
“A fear of snakes. Those fuckers love to roost in places like this.”
“Tell you what”, Kirkley smiled, gently patting Hannah, “We’ll go in first. You can stay out here with Kylie.”
“Gotcha”, Hannah happily replied.
“Alright, lights on”, Kirkley ordered as he switched on the flashlight mounted to his SPAS-15. Poet, Pack and Royce followed the leader, and once they all had their lights on, they went into the large, pitch-black building. Though they hadn’t officially spoken their objective, they were all hoping to find a watertight boat that they could use to sail along the coastline of the UK, down to London, and onto a proper boat that could be used on a voyage to the European mainland. Hell, if this all went according to plan, they might not have to make contact with a single dog soldier. But with the abysmal luck carried on the shoulders of these survivors, this was almost certainly impossible to achieve.
The three men and the woman who were exploring the boathouse continued to swing their lights around and try and find something of interest.
“We need to find a switch or something to reinitiate the generator. We get some form of power going, and we’ll have lighting, which means we won’t need to play Marco Polo in order to find a ship”, suggested Kirkley. “Pack, Royce, you two go search for a power breaker, or a reset switch, or something.”
“Got it, sir”, Pack nodded, though he didn’t know who he was nodding to since he could only see the flashlights of his companions’ weapons, and not the weapons’ users.
Pack and Royce looked around in the cavernous boathouse for a breaker that might be able to power up the interior lighting, but their flashlights only covered so much space, and it was taking a while for them to fully sweep everything inside. Pack was becoming increasingly frustrated and impulsive, and he finally got fed up with not being able to find anything.
“Hold on guys, I’m about to cause some noise and make some light!” Pack yelled. Kirkley swung around and immediately tried to speak out against what he knew Pack was preparing to do, but it was too late. Pack squeezed the trigger of his MP5, and the high firing rate produced a massive, fluctuating stream of muzzle flashes as the gun rang and whirred and buzzed loudly and uncontrollably.
“Hit the deck!” Kirkley screamed, as he, Poet and Royce dove to the floor to avoid getting hit by a ricochet.
The muzzle flashes sacrificed badly-needed ammunition in favor of much more effective lighting that actually gave away the location of the power breaker.
“Found it!” Pack laughed as he blew at the smoking tip of his barrel.
“Well, congratulations, dipshit”, groaned Kirkley. “You nearly killed us, and you wasted your ammo, but at least you found something.”
“Oh, piss off”, Pack sneered.
Pack reached for the large handle, which felt clammy and strange, and with both hands, he pulled the lever downwards, and gave it a couple of seconds before he forced it upwards. Sure enough, the sound of an old generator’s gears grinding, grumbling and turning began to echo through the boathouse, and the aging lights slowly began flickering as they started coming back on. A few of the bulbs burst, but enough of them lit up to reveal one of the most magnificent discoveries ever made by Kirkley and his fellow survivors. A large sailboat that could easily accommodate six people was sitting dormant in the large boathouse. The sail itself was folded down, so that it could fit inside of the building, and it showed no signs of damage. The large doors that, when opened up, would allow the boat to sail off into the Sea were shut, but there appeared to be gears that could be winded to manually open up the doors.
Kirkley, Poet, Pack and Royce stepped back into the perpetual twilight caused by the eclipse, where they found Kylie and Hannah still holding position outdoors without any signs of a struggle.
“What the hell was all that gunfire in there?” Hannah asked in an angry tone.
“Pack”, Kirkley sighed, rolling his eyes as he swung around to face his trigger-happy friend.
“Hey, I found the power breaker that lit this motherfucking place up so we could find that boat!” Pack retaliated.
“A boat?!” Kylie joyfully exclaimed. “Fuck yeah, man!”
“We’ll need you to put Kylie in the cabin”, Kirkley requested. “Once you’ve helped her get down, help me ready the sail while the others get those doors open.”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” the group eagerly but sarcastically yelled.
…
After an hour of hard work that got everyone sweating and swearing like a bunch of sailors, the ship was prepared, along with the men and women that had got it ready to sail.
“Royce, will you do the honors?” Kirkley asked, pulling out his large machete and handing it to Royce. With a mighty swing and a mightier yell, Royce swung down with the oversized blade and slashed clean through the rope that was tethering the ship to the anchoring point. The boat began drifting forwards, out towards the open waters of the North Sea. The current carried the sailboat out of the boathouse, and once it was completely clear, Kirkley and Hannah raised the sail, and the boat began to speed up. Pack and Royce, being the strongest members of their group, were placed in charge of manning the sails while Poet stood at the wheel, steering the ship about 40 yards off from the rocky cliffsides that lined the shoreline. Kirkley and Hannah opted to stay down in the cabin of the ship with Kylie, who was slowly being rocked to sleep as the boat gently shook with the waves.