Hope came running along the quayside, Andrew was close behind her having become her constant shadow since they had made the decision to allow him freedom of movement. Anderson knelt and wrapped his arms around the shaking child. "Are they all dead?” sobbed Hope.
Anderson could not answer, he simply held her close and watched the burning ship behind her. Andrew paced back and forth behind her, reaching out with a darting hand to pat Hope on the head and then pull it away quickly as he eyed Anderson then the burning ship, his features switching back and forth between a crooked smile and a snarl but the snarls were getting less and less, Anderson could see that clearly. "Shhh,” he whispered to the weeping child, “everything is going to be OK.” Andrew patted her again. The security chief watched as the flotilla began returning to the quay, he knew they would not be bringing back any survivors, at least not breathing ones. He regretted his words to Hope because everything was not going to be OK, everything was far from OK.
#
11.45am GMT 6.45am New York Time.
Captain John Bower studied the images on the screen, zooming into the wreckage that was just a short while ago a sea-going cruise ship. Now it was a burning hulk that would never again take to the oceans of the world and in particular would be carrying no Pure from the UK to America.
"I have Mr Bruger on the radio Captain," came a voice from behind him.
Captain Bower stepped over to the comms unit and took the offered hand unit. “You want the good news Mr Bruger or the very good news?" smiled the Captain.
"Those are the choices that I like," chuckled the Fort Warwick leader." Describe it to me," he growled, "every single detail.”
Captain Bower spent the next five minutes doing just that and responding as the crazed man, who now controlled him, had him repeat several parts over and over again.
"Enough," ordered Bruger suddenly. "We need to move on to phase two Captain, how long before you can set sail?”
"We can be on the move in less than thirty minutes Mr Bruger.”
"I want you to make for Shoeburyness Beach at the mouth of the Thames, from there we can make a strike on Fort London. What time will you arrive?”
"Just a moment Sir," paused Captain Bower.
Bruger would normally not wait for anyone but he was in a good mood. Inside his head pictures were playing on loop from the description of the destruction of the cruise ship, they warmed him, brought a crooked smile to his face.
"We should arrive around 2200 hours this evening Mr Bruger," came Bower’s voice.
"Excellent," rewarded Bruger. "I will be mobilising my army from Fort Warwick at 9am tomorrow morning, I intend to be at Fort London by noon. Once I have sacked the city and taken all of the Pure I need for my Mutants I will hunt down Anderson and the child. When I am clear of the area I want you to launch the nuclear missile at my command and wipe it from the face of my lands."
Captain Bower made no response, he had hoped that Bruger would have changed his mind. He wished, as he had done many times since speaking to the man he now recognised was completely insane, that he had never tried to impress him by bragging that one of the cruise missiles on board had been modified to hold a nuclear warhead.
"Are you still conscious Captain?" barked Bruger.
"Yes...yes Mr. Bruger, your instructions are understood."
"I'm pleased Captain because," Bruger paused, "I would hate to have to repeat myself.”
The Captain swallowed. "Understood Sir, we will be ready to launch on your command."
Bruger closed the line and walked to the large plate glass window in his office. Looking to the north he imagined himself at the gates of Fort London, his eyes ablaze, "BOOM.”
#
Time 12.55pm GMT 7.55 am New York Time
Tom, Spider and Anderson had spent over an hour searching the waters around the fiercely burning hulk, the heat emanating from her meant that there was no way they could board her and in truth they were all grateful for that small mercy for each of them could only imagine the horrors that would confront them. Anderson finally called a halt to the fruitless search of the corpses floating in the sea recognising many from amongst the Pure from Fort London. He felt a wash of guilt break over him as his craft drove through them on his way back to the quay. He was the one who had agreed to this escape plan, he was the one who each and every man, woman and child entrusted their lives to and that trust had been left wanting.
"Craig," called Tom breaking into his dark thoughts, “the satellite link with the USA has just come back on line, you got a call coming in from President Nelson."
Anderson stared for a few seconds at the handset held out to him by Tom as if it were a rattle snake. Taking it reluctantly he turned and stared out to the Spirit of the Seas a hundred metres off shore. “Mr President?"
"Ah Mr Anderson, good to speak to you. I would hope by now you have made contact with Captain Argent. We seem to be having a problem reaching him."
Anderson took a deep breath, “Mr President.”
President Nelson cut in, his voice giving away the excitement he was feeling. “You must have begun loading your people by now, how many have boarded?”
"I have grave news sir," tried Anderson again.
"OK so you haven't started loading yet, don't sweat it, I'm sure......." the rest of his thoughts were cut off by the sharpness of Craig Anderson’s voice.
"Mr. President, please listen." Anderson paused for a beat to regain control. "Approximately an hour and a half ago The Spirit of The Sea was hit by a guided missile launched from a type 45 Destroyer under the control of Karl Bruger. The ship has suffered fatal damage and as we speak is burning throughout its length." Anderson allowed a second or two for the weight of the news to settle onto the President. There was no response from Nelson. Anderson continued, "We had over a thousand of our people on board at the time. There were no survivors."
For several beats there was silence. Anderson wondered if the connection had terminated. "What about our people Mr Anderson?” came the President’s hushed voice eventually.
Anderson repeated himself, "There were no survivors Sir.”
"Where's the Destroyer now?” asked Nelson.
"I have a contact aboard her Sir who tells me that she is somewhere off the south coast, east of England.”
"And Bruger?”
"My contact tells me he is somewhere in Scotland running amok with his armies.”
"His days of running amok are numbered. I am reluctantly forced by his declaration of war upon us, and make no mistake that is how I see it Mr Anderson, to initiate an option which we have prepared here in the States that is both a rescue and a solution, the final solution to this monster."
Anderson felt a shiver at the intensity of the President’s words, "Care to expand sir?”
"We have nine aircraft prepared to fly to the UK, they should reach you......" there followed the sound of a muffled conversation at the State’s end as Nelson appeared to be seeking confirmation, "at noon tomorrow, you will need to supply us with co-ordinates of a usable airfield with at least 3000 feet of runway and any information you can get on Bruger’s position.”
"You mentioned a rescue Sir, how many of our people can you take?”
"Three thousand," came the instant reply.
"But.......we had ten thousand waiting Mr President, ten thousand that I’m not even sure I can get back to Fort London where a further half a million souls are waiting, a Fort London that I left in a state of chaos just a day ago, a Fort that I have been unable to raise a response from in the last few hours so I’m not even sure we have a Fort to get back to.”
"I understand your frustration but this is a last throw of the dice operation Craig, and I will not lie to you, we are using aircraft that have not flown for some time and using fuel gathered from every reserve we have so I can't even guarantee we will reach you.”
"So.... we are supposed to prepare a runway for a rescue mission that might not even reach us?”
&nb
sp; "You have the child Mr Anderson, we have to attempt to get her to safety, she is in grave danger where she is."
"We're all in grave danger Sir and I now have to tell my people that only three thousand of them may or may not escape this growing chaos. Will there be this unknown element on subsequent trips Sir?" asked Anderson struggling to hide his frustration.
The President took several moments to respond, "There will not be any subsequent trips Mr Anderson, we don't have the fuel, we have fitted extra tanks to all aircraft to ensure we can make the return trip but it has taken every drop of fuel at our disposal."
Anderson wanted to ask the man to repeat what he had just said, wanted him to hear that he had just signed a death warrant for the majority of the populace of Fort London he had spent so many years protecting but he knew it would be a waste of time, so he asked something else. “What is the final solution?”
Nelson hesitated, he wasn’t about to share that information just yet. "I’m not even sure we can reach you Mr Anderson, there seems little point in going into the details at this stage.”
Despite not being happy with what was clearly an evasive move, Anderson needed to focus his attention on the multiple problems facing him. Looking from the craft on which he was still aboard he could see thousands of pairs of eyes studying him, expectant eyes, eyes that craved reassurances he could not give. “As you wish Mr President but we will be having this conversation again Sir and I will be asking the same question."
"And at the right time I will give you that answer.”
"We will be watching the skies Sir."
"Twenty three hours, God willing, and some extra advice Mr Anderson."
"Sir?”
"Get your man off that Destroyer before noon tomorrow.”
The line closed and Anderson stepped ashore pushing his way through the thousands on the quay, many of whom he was going to have to leave behind at Southampton for he had already calculated that the fuel on the rag-tag of vehicles had been calculated for a return trip of empty seats. This was going to get ugly.
Chapter 28
"Your angel is watching over you Cap”
The Preacher dodged back into the comms room as the sound of running troops, both above and below him, reached him. Raised voices warned that the carnage he had left in the staff cabin had been discovered, it wouldn’t be long before they found one unconscious and one dead man in the comms room. Time to find a bolt hole to hold up in till he found out what the Destroyer’s next move was. As he moved to the door the man with the broken nose rose suddenly to his feet and surged towards him, his crooked nose and blood coated chin giving him a chilling look as he roared loudly at his attacker. It was short lived as The Preacher stepped in swiftly and delivered a snap punch to the man’s exposed throat. The man fell to his knees gasping for air and holding his throat. The Preacher calmly turned and exited knowing his assailant’s trachea had been crushed. The man had drawn his last breath and would be dead in minutes. The Preacher made a decision that the bridge would be the last place they would expect him to hide, he knew there was a small storeroom directly off it where the server was housed that powered the on-board comms link and computer system. If he could get there undiscovered he might escape detection. He decided his God must have been watching over him this day as he found the bridge empty. Guessing that all crew had gone forward to watch the missile launch, he had no sooner shut the door to the storeroom than several people entered the bridge, one clearly being the Captain. As he listened through the door he was stunned to hear of the attack on the cruise ship apparently sent from the United States, he was sickened as he heard laughter over the possible number of casualties finding it hard to comprehend how men, who were once servants of their country, could sink to such deviant levels. Later he would learn that there was an even lower level yet to come.
#
Anderson took Tom, Bull, Spider, along with Hog and his Angels to a quiet area and spoke in a low voice. Thousands of the Pure from Fort London were milling around the vast yards, most were in small groups, questions clear in their eyes and troubled expressions. "We need to prepare one third of the vehicles for the return trip to Fort London.”
"How so?” asked Spider.
"We calculated fuel for the return trip to FL on the basis of empty vehicles, the amount of fuel each presently holds will not get there with a full load of passengers, we have to syphon out petrol and diesel from transport that is not selected and fill the tanks of the ones making the trip."
"I see you did the numbers as well," spoke up Tom eyeing the ever noisy groups around them.
"How many can we take?" asked Bull nodding towards the milling groups.
Anderson stared at the ground for several seconds, finally lifting his head, he looked around at his team. "We can only take around three thousand."
"That’s not gonna go down well," hissed Spider.
"How are you going to pick?" asked Tom.
"Anybody want the job?” asked Anderson looking to the team.
"Soon as we move on the vehicles and start syphoning it's gonna hit the fan," offered one of the team.
"He's right Craig," responded Tom. "Best to call a meeting and lay it out.”
Anderson turned his back on his crew and looked out to the smouldering ship. Without turning he gave out crisp instructions, "Tom, find Hope and Andrew and get them somewhere safe. Spider, get your rifle and find a position overlooking the yard, probably one of the cranes would be good. Bull, you and Hog get all of the troops armed and over to the vehicles." Turning, he looked directly at him, "No one gets near them, are we clear?”
Ten minutes later Anderson had summoned all of the Fort London Pure to one of the empty yards, the Southampton populace were also there along with their leader Pete Wilson. Climbing up onto the back of a truck he lifted the mic to his mouth linked to a tannoy set up for him by Wilson’s people. Before he switched on the mic he used it as a cover as he spoke into his throat mic. "Spider are you in place?”
"Your Angel is watching over you Cap.”
“Bull have you set up the protection line on the vehicles?”
"We're good Cap."
"Tom?”
"They're safe Craig."
"OK, let’s get this done." Anderson switched on the mic as he slipped the safety catch on his magnum and drew comfort from the feel of his harness on his back containing his deadly Kukris’s.
#
Pump and his team surrounded the Land Rover, weapons raised.
"Time to leave Steve, and I mean now," instructed Pump into his throat mic.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, just need to collect some papers," responded the flustered Fort London President.
"Sod the papers Steve," snapped Pump, "We've got growing gangs roaming the streets and it's only a matter of time before someone leaves a gate open and we have WDS and Mutants swarming through the streets. Now move.”
A brick came hurtling in as a screaming group of twenty to twenty five youths came racing down the street. "Put a round over their heads," shouted Pump.
Most of the rage shown by the group evaporated but one wild-eyed youth wielding a machete kept coming. Pump stepped forward, his MP5 raised. "Don't do it,” he shouted. The youth kept coming. Ten feet out Pump put another burst over his head, he kept coming. Pump lowered his weapon and placed a three second burst into the crazed boy’s chest knocking him backwards onto his backside. Pump turned immediately and marched into the Barbican to find Steve Knight still stuffing files into a box. Pump lifted his weapon and put a burst into the ceiling.
Steve Knight dropped the box and clutched his chest, "Holy shit Pump what the hell are you doing?”
"What I am doing," hissed the Ex SAS man,” Is trying to save your life Steve. Are you blind to what’s going on out there?" he snapped, swinging his arm wide to indicate Fort London. "We've lost control Steve. The populace are rampaging around like headless chickens, they blame us for what’s happening and a mass body of them are preparing to
leave and join Bruger. Now I guarantee that when they leave they are going to leave every gate they pass through wide open. Do I have to spell out the consequences of that or are you getting the picture?”
"Pump we got WDs in the streets," came the voice of his second in command through his ear piece and the loudspeaker on Knight’s desk.
"Move," yelled Pump running for the door. Knight was close behind him, not a single file in his hands.
As the pair hit the street the firing commenced. His team of four troops were holding a growing swarm of WDs at bay that were seeping out of a side street. At their shuffling pace the bodies building up created a corpse wall the ones behind simply climbed over. "Everybody in," ordered Pump jumping into the driver’s seat. As they roared away, three Mutants appeared from the swarm and chased the Land Rover down the street, one of them lunged forward and caught hold of the tow hitch on the back of the Land Rover.
"Geoff," called Pump to one of his troops in the back seat, “Explain to that Mutant our policy on hitch hikers."
The man in the back climbed into the rear area of the Land Rover, swung open the rear door and looked down on the Mutant clinging to the tow hitch. Seeing the trooper the creature bared its teeth and snarled at him. Geoff pulled out his side-arm and fired one shot, closed the door and climbed back over into his seat. "Seemed to accept my explanation Pump.”
Bravo Two Zombie (Book 3): The Final Solution Page 22