Bruger spun around suddenly, causing the enforcer to take a backward step and he would have kept going and slammed the door closed behind him if it hadn't been for the wide smile on his leader’s face.
"Blade, come in come in," he greeted.
Blade decided to stay where he was. “You um...you feeling alright Karl?"
"Never better Blade, never better." Looking at the body on the floor he hollered at the top of his voice, “Ginger, get this corpse out of my office.”
That’s the old Bruger, thought Blade stepping to one side as Drongo was dragged by the ankles out of the office door, leaving a smear of blood in his wake.
"And get this office cleaned up," yelled Bruger after them. "Come on Blade," instructed Bruger, walking from the room. “We have plans to go over for our trip in the morning."
Blade fell in behind him not really sure why Bruger was in such a good mood but in truth he didn’t care. He had returned to Warwick expecting the wave of violence to wash across him, violence that he had seen on so many occasions when his leader didn't get his own way or if someone had let him down. Both scenarios would trigger the same reaction.
"Always fancied seeing Scotland," chuckled Bruger as he strode out of the trashed office.
"Scotland, I thought we were going to The Keep?” asked his surprised enforcer.
"We'll call in on the way," called Bruger over his shoulder.
"What’s in Scotland?” probed Blade.
Bruger stopped suddenly and turned to his enforcer, his eyes alight. "Hell Blade, Hell.”
#
The world suddenly came into focus as the mist cleared from Andrew's infected brain. In his hand was a lump of what used to be part of a human being and the taste in his mouth was one he was beginning to recognise, he had been feeding again, this time however he did not vomit as he had before and that fact alone disgusted him, he was losing the fight. Staggering from the alley he found himself in Andrew, tried to get his mind to clear, he remembered there was a child, a small girl and he had taken her to a warehouse to keep her safe. Then there were men, two men, they had come and taken the child. Stumbling around a corner, Andrew came to a halt and dodged back out of sight of the group across the street outside of what looked like a supermarket. They were talking, talking loudly and he heard the word London.
#
"You sure you don't want some company?" asked the Angel leader, jumping down from the Daf truck he had seconded. Four of his men were riding their Harleys, they would ride two in front, two behind as they travelled to FL. In the back of the Daf were loaded the remaining Harleys that Hog refused to leave behind.
"Where I must go will be best achieved by one man. I will draw less attention." The Preacher’s eyes narrowed. "Also what I must do I want no other man to witness.”
Hog felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked into The Preacher’s face, for in those features he saw a rage, a hatred that he would not wish directed at him. Stepping forward he embraced the giant black man. "Take care Preacher and make sure you come back in one piece.”
"That would be my intention my friend.”
"You don’t and Saphire is gonna be pissed," chuckled the huge Angel.
The Preacher smiled. "And neither of us would want that Hog.”
"Frigging right," laughed the Angel leader. "Do you have a message for Fort Boy when we hit London?” asked Hog.
The Preacher was silent for a beat. "Tell Anderson to take great care of Hope and tell Hope that...." the big man seemed to take an extra breath, “she has been as a daughter to me.”
Hog shook his head. “No way, I ain't taking that message. You can deliver it yourself when you come back." With that he turned without another word and walked away to the waiting Daf and his men.
The Preacher simply smiled, watching the group until they disappeared over the crown of the road, then he turned and faced north. He would begin this next journey as The Preacher and he hoped his God would forgive him for he would end it as The Angel of Death.
#
The space behind the Harleys was tight, and even though he had been crammed into it for what seemed an age, Andrew didn't care, he was going to London. It was the place of safety, a place he knew instinctively that he had to reach. He remembered again an earlier time, a time when there was a woman with him and there were children, a boy and a girl, a little girl and her name was........ The struggle to remember stopped, the pressure in his head was excruciating. It felt as if a steel band was tightening around it and the familiar fire within burned white hot, he was changing. "No," shouted the voice in his confused brain. "Not now.”
Chapter 14
"Who Wants To Play God?”
Craig Anderson was not a man often lost for words but this occasion could safely be added to the very few others he could remember. The Fort London security chief looked at Kitchen Man to see if he was doubled up enjoying his own joke. Kitchen Man wasn't doubled up and the expression on his face confirmed this was not a joke. “President Nelson, this day just gets weirder by the second," opened Anderson.
A warm chuckle came over the speaker. “Think we've all had our fair share of those over the last three years Mr Anderson."
"I’m guessing that the fact that you are the current elected President indicates a relatively extensive stronghold?”
Zack Nelson spoke for the next fifteen minutes in which time he told the entranced group of the first outbreak of the plague, told of the speed it spread through the States, the horrors it brought as it tore families apart. They were painfully familiar to each one in the group listening. He spoke in detail of the decision to create the safe haven of Fort Hope selected due to its geography and the mighty Saint Lawrence River and of course the protection of that huge moat known as the Atlantic Ocean. He told of the heartbreak as the clearance of the Tainted meant families had to kill neighbours, friends, sons and daughters to survive. He explained how they had managed to salvage extensive military hardware including planes and a number of ships that lay moored in the safety of Long Island Sound and whilst initially they had large stocks of fuel, the search and rescue missions that had taken place daily in the early days had now stopped. This was due to the fact that many of those who had survived had chosen their own strongholds and there was also the fact that the President had declared that they had to keep an eye on the fact that the fuel would not last forever. The conversation began to bounce back and forth. Introductions were made to the various members of each group then each gave their reflections on the past three years, they shared strategies and aims, each group describing incidents and events mirrored by the other. Both countries spoke of their discovery that dogs carried the plague and how it caused a tidal wave of objection from dog lovers as all animals were destroyed or removed from the Forts, many opting to go out into the outer-lands and sure death rather than give up their pets. Hardships and issues that each could relate to, created a bond between them in the fact that each had had to go through the fires of so many failures until answers were found. Containment walls, food, fuel, looting and government were all touched on. They spoke in depth on the subject of the Mutants that Bruger had developed, creating an army of monsters and finally, after all areas seemed to be exhausted, they came to the subject that would cement this new bond and give them a common goal. For the first time since they started talking, there descended an awkward silence.
"Kitchen Man has told us about the child, Hope, Mr Anderson. He's explained how this man Bruger drained her blood to use in creating those monsters. He's also told us that with your present shrinkage of safe ground within the Fort and numbers of Pure you will be lucky to survive beyond six months. And if this man Bruger increases his strategy on attacks, that six month window might soon become very optimistic.”
"I'm hoping this is a good news, bad news scenario and we have the good news part to come," responded Anderson.
"I would love to say that there is a lot of that to come Mr Anderson but the reality is that the sequenc
e actually tilts the other way. You have a child there who carries in her blood a potential answer to this damn plague, good news. We have the facilities, and the staff here that we feel could make the breakthrough to find that cure, add this to the good news section."
"I'm reluctant to ask but......what’s your bad news list?" asked Knight.
"Firstly there's the one you yourself have explained to us. This guy Bruger is not going to stop until he gets the child and destroys you all in the process. Next you have these creatures that the maniac has created adding to the dangers from the plague, from what you tell me they are infecting the Pure with the strain of the plague that turns them into turbo charged eating machines." The President paused.
"I suspect there's more," suggested Anderson with reluctance.
The President’s sigh was clearly audible. “I’m not sure we can get you here.”
Kitchen Man cut in. "You said you were coming."
Unseen by the group at the Barbican, Zack Nelson winced at the reminder. "That…....might have been a bit gung ho guys. After making that statement my people reminded me that our planes only fly short hops here and that very little maintenance has been carried out on them. Their concern is the distance of close on three and a half thousand miles could be too much of an ask."
"You suggesting we swim?” snarled Tom.
"We're thinking of a cruise ship," rebounded Nelson. "We would need a few days to prepare the vessel and then we have factored in a crossing time of around three and a half to four days before we reach your port of Southampton. We would be able to take up to ten thousand people at a push and make as many return trips as needed to get your people off."
"That would be a hell of a lot of trips," warned Knight.
"We are looking at getting more ships," soothed President Nelson. "But........" he left the doubt unfinished.
"What do you suppose will happen when Bruger finds we are relocating state side?" asked Tom. "Doubt he'll stand waving on the dockside with a big smile on his face."
"Make this quick guys," warned Kitchen Man. "I'm skipping this message through a number of satellites that I have discovered as being stable and you are about to lose the feed, I won't get it back for twenty four hours."
"Decision time gentlemen," pressed Nelson.
"Send the ship," replied Anderson, seeing the nods of the men with him.
"This time Kitchen Man I mean it, we’re on our way,” assured The President. The line went dead.
Anderson placed the handset back into its cradle. "Tom's right," sighed Anderson. "Soon as that maniac Bruger finds out what we are planning he's gonna come in hard. Chances are we will only get one group away before he has time to react."
"Then so be it," responded Knight.
Anderson turned to face him, Tom and Kitchen Man. "So who is going to choose that first group, who wants to play God?”
#
The following morning, a large convoy was preparing to leave Fort Warwick and head north for The Keep. In the lead was Blade with his beloved Pinzer, complete with ten men. At the rear was one of the remaining DafT45 4x4 troop carriers complete with twenty heavily armed troops. Behind this were a mix of troop carriers in which over 200 seasoned men were sat. Sandwiched in the centre was Bruger in an FV known as The Bulldog, an awesome piece of transport with a K60 multi fuel Rolls Royce engine and an 84mm infantry gun mounted in the troop area which left room for only four men, four men who had been selected by Bruger as his inner circle since Blade had been placed on food gathering duties for Bruger’s Mutant army. Over a period of months, Blade had been pushed further away from Bruger as he developed his inner guard, four psychopaths who fawned around the ex-drug dealer treating him like he was a god, laughing at every joke and feeding his ever growing ego. Bruger kept assuring Blade that the work he was carrying out was important, that he couldn't trust it to anyone else, but as far as Blade was concerned it was a slap in the face, at least that was how he felt at the time. Now he was actually glad, glad to have space between him and the man Bruger had become. Blade had always recognised him for what he was but now his mood swings were meteoric, his outbursts of violence completely off the scale and his plans for sweeping across the planet, with his ‘Operation Vanquish’, completely insane. Blade had always been wary of the ex-drug baron but now that had changed, now he was scared of him and even worse, he was terrified of the fact that he was completely blind to where his plans were taking them, oblivion.
#
Hog unclipped the radio from the dashboard and made a call to Fort London. "Hey Fort boy, get that gate open and get the eggs on."
After a short pause Anderson replied. “There aren’t enough eggs at FL to satisfy that stomach of yours Hog. Where are you?"
"Around two hundred metres from the north gate so get your boys ready to pop the bolts and let us in.”
Anderson looked to the monitor in Knight’s office, punched a few keys and brought up the north gate. Beyond, he could see Hog coming in the Daf truck that had been taken from Blade during the attack on the stronghold at Stevenage. Two Angels on Harleys back and front were riding shotgun. As he was watching, the Daf suddenly began to swerve from side to side and then came to a skidding halt. Hog’s panicked voice came booming through the speaker. “What the Fuck?”
The glass panel that separated the cab of the Daf from the rear section of the vehicle was missing, at some time in the past it had been damaged and had been replaced by a piece of thin hardboard. As Hog was talking to Anderson, the hardboard section suddenly exploded out past the side of his head, punched from its frame by a pair of bloodied clawing hands with ripped and torn nails that clamped around the Angel’s head, completely blocking his vision. “What the fuck?” The Angel leader knew from the smell of the putrid breath and the snarling growl through teeth just inches from his neck, he had a Mutant on board. He managed to lean forward and bring the swerving truck under control before jamming on the brakes and bringing the massive Daf truck to a skidding halt. Reaching to the seat at his side he grabbed the 46cm long Micro Uzi that was one of his favourite weapons and pointed it over his shoulder, discharging the 20 rounds that the mag held in just seconds.
#
Mutant 221 ducked as a stream of bullets poured through from the front of the truck. Scampering to the back of the truck as it skidded to a halt, he jumped onto the road. Immediately as he hit the tarmac, two motorbikes came roaring at him, one of the riders had a machine gun that was spraying bullets that skipped off the road surface all around him. He needed to feed but he also needed to get away, this much he could calculate. Running, he manged to make it to an alley and ducked away from the people behind him. He had to feed, he had to find food.
#
Anderson watched in disbelief as a lone figure jumped from the back of the now stationary Daf troop carrier, watched as one of the following Angels fired on the move at the fleeing Mutant. Zooming in with the camera, Anderson's breath caught in his throat as the creature seemed to look towards him, it was the Mutant who saved Hope.
#
The Preacher made the trip north towards The Keep by skipping through a number of small strongholds where he had followers of the faith. This way he was able to check on those communities that were still intact and also warn them of the dangers presented by Bruger’s snatch squads. Added to this was the fact he was able to spend some time with each to attend to their spiritual needs. In all, he visited seven communities and after the sixth he was feeling buoyant, the dark cloud of despair that had enshrouded him after speaking to Wishbone had begun to lift, but then came the seventh, then the clouds fell back around him, then the white hot fires of rage were reignited. Stronghold seven was tucked away in farm buildings on the outskirts of Inkberrow, a small village around 18 miles south east of Fort Warwick. The Preacher came to a halt as the wide open main gate came into view, his heart sinking as his mind immediately brought into painful clarity the faces of the members of this commune. Little Cathy, the blond haired sev
en year old with a withered left arm, who always insisted on sitting on his lap every time he sat down. Luke, the thirteen year old who asked so many intelligent questions about his faith and gave such far reaching thoughts about where the plague might have come from and what they should do to beat it.
In all, there were thirty adults in this commune and eleven children. The youngest was Libby, the sweetest little girl of three. The Preacher had himself brought her into the world when he had come across her mother in the first stages of labour all alone at a small cluster of houses eight miles north of Inkberrow, where she had been holding out since the plague took hold. Taking her to the Inkberrow stronghold that had just formed, she had quickly settled in and formed a bond with Stuart, one of the kindest men he had ever met. The Preacher stepped from his Jeep, no apparent thought for safety as he strode through the gate and into the inner area that he had visited on so many occasions, an area where young children would run forward to greet him and those who had chosen to join his flock would embrace him warmly, bringing a swelling pride to his heart. Now it was broken and full of hate which saddened him for he had worked so hard at leaving such feelings behind and now these people, Bruger, Blade and the Butcher had reawakened those cancerous, soul poisoning emotions. For putting him through that there was a price to pay, there was a purging required to cleanse the pain from his heart and the anger from his soul and that price was death and they were going to pay it, for he would have vengeance. Walking back through the gates, he seemed to stare to the horizon, appearing to miss the fast moving Mutant coming at speed behind him. The creature got to within five metres yet The Preacher paced on, eyes fixed forward. At three metres, the Mutant leapt in the air. The Preacher spun around bringing up the Remington 870 12 gauge pistol grip shotgun he had slipped into his hand. At less than a metre, the Mutant was blasted through the centre of its chest, removing the heart that would no longer pump the Tainted blood around his poor soul. Without a pause, the giant black man slipped the Remington back into its pouch inside his long flowing coat and turned back to his jeep. As he walked he whispered a mantra that would sustain him on this odyssey, "Vengeance will be mine, vengeance will be mine."
Bravo Two Zombie (Book 3): The Final Solution Page 10