Hutchison made it back to the Bedford just in time. He dived in beside Walkden and slammed the door shut, just as one of the diseased crashed into it. Hutchison scrabbled for his pistol and then fired down into the boy’s face, turning it to mush. Wood was kneeling and firing quickly now. He was hardly pausing to aim. He no longer slowed his breathing. There was just a continual volley of bullets, picking off the nearest of the diseased each time. But he was not able to shoot them all. Straddling did not have time to get to his Land Rover and instead hurled himself at the rear of the Bedford. Neale and Scovell had raised the metal tailgate to waist height. From their elevated position this gave them sufficient protection against any attackers at road level but still allowed them to fire out. Straddling leapt at it and vaulted over in a moment, gasping for breath through fear and exertion. This left just Lewis and Wood outside as the infected reached the Land Rovers. Wood was safe on top of the Bedford. Lewis was not. A man jumped at the Land Rover and landed on the bonnet. He quickly scrambled towards the windscreen baring his teeth, causing Darby to yelp in fright. He had kept the engine running all the while and now nimbly popped his foot off the clutch and the car shuddered forwards, sending the man sliding off. Darby momentarily dabbed the brake, then accelerated again and the man went under its wheels with a jolt and screech as his bones shattered.
The next attacker got to the Land Rover just before Lewis, cutting him off from safety. His anger was initially aimed at the vehicle but diverted to the soldier, and he lunged at Lewis with venom. Lewis had been careering towards the vehicle and only just had time to slow up as the man turned on him. He instinctively kicked out, catching him on the thigh with enough force to knock him to the ground. Right behind him the remains of the mob from the far side of the pile-up were now only a few steps away. Lewis had no time to hesitate as they all converged upon him. They screamed in delight as they finally caught their prey. Hands outstretched in triumph and fingers snagged his clothes. He flung himself frantically at the Bedford, but in his panic he had jumped from slightly too far away. He hit the tailgate half way up, but as he still clutched his rifle in his left hand he was not able to cling on. He fell back into the grasp of the enraged, screaming multitude. Wood fired his last two bullets into the throng and killed another but it was not enough and there were still too many. The nearest of the diseased snatched with loathing in his eyes and grabbed hold of Lewis’s shirt. Another swiped at his face, drawing blood across his cheek. Lewis tried to jump once more but unfortunately the hands now gripping onto him prevented him getting sufficient height and again he fell back into peril. Wood helplessly watched it all unfolding in front of his eyes as he tried in vain to release his pistol in time to save his commanding officer from a hideous death. The diseased now surged forwards, all but surrounding him, even as he struck out at them, trying to clear a space. He swung his rifle around, knocking one to the ground, and fired a short burst into their writhing mass. Williams shrieked as she watched them fighting each other to rip the poor man limb from limb. Just then two things happened simultaneously; there was a loud bang as Collins fired into the face of the nearest attacker, splattering the ground with blood and releasing Lewis from his clutch, and two grasping hands reached over the tailgate from within. With tremendous force Lewis was yanked up and away from the clutches of the furious infected.
Lewis landed in a heap on top of Millington who had single-handedly hauled him to safety, undoubtedly saving his life. Some of the diseased remained screaming and reaching up at the soldiers in the Bedford. Several others now turned on the next easiest target, the Land Rover. Five or six of them raced furiously towards it. One leapt onto the bonnet and the others tried to smash the windows and access the tasty morsels within. Berthon instinctively reacted to the man right in front of him and reversed with a screech of tyres.
Wood was still on the roof of the truck but away from the reaching hands of the attackers. He now grabbed hold of a loose cord and banged the side of the cab. “Drive.”
Walkden did not need to be told twice. The lorry leapt forwards at the gap and slammed into the nearside of the ambulance with a crash. For a moment everyone inside was thrown forwards and it seemed as though the Bedford would not get through, but the ambulance lurched an extra foot and they were free, spat out like a champagne cork with the Land Rovers and several infected chasing after.
Walkden checked his mirror to ensure that they had got clear of the danger and was about to stop to allow Wood to get off the roof but he need not have worried. At that moment Wood slipped down from his perch and through the lorry’s open window, landing on the seat beside Hutchison. His face was covered in perspiration and he had somehow managed to cut his chin which bled freely, but his eyes were shining and wide open as though he had just come off a roller-coaster. For a moment the three men exchanged glances and then Wood whooped and yelled and banged the dashboard several times, shouting in elation. It was the biggest display of emotion either Walkden or Hutchison had seen from him and they shared in the moment.
Lewis got unsteadily to his feet in the rear of the truck. He was still trembling with fear and adrenaline but composed himself quickly. “Thank you for that,” he said to Millington. “I think you just saved my life.”
“Ah no man, it was nothing,” Millington started to protest, but Lewis cut him short and placed a shaking hand on his shoulder.
“No. You saved my life. Seriously, thank you.”
As the sounds of gun-shots rang out in the still air of Bishop’s Stortford, with very few competing noises they could be heard from a long distance away, especially to the keen ears of a vampire. When she heard the first shots Flavia was just making her way out of the presbytery alone. She stopped still for a moment, discerning the direction of firing, then set off at a dazzling pace, leaping from roof to roof without paying any heed to subtlety or caution, disturbing occasional roof tiles and bricks, sending them clattering to the road below.
Unbeknownst to the soldiers, had they lingered only a few minutes more at the scene of the attack she would have caught up with them. She arrived at the wreckage as the remaining diseased still roamed about the site. She silently cursed, sniffing the air, listening and scanning all around and ignoring them with complete disregard. The diseased quickly realised that a new quarry was in their midst and turned their unending torrent of rage against her. This proved to be a bad decision as Flavia was not in the mood to be harassed. Out in the open with vehicles to impede their access, giving her plenty of platforms from which to spring into attack and create her ballet of death, she was a truly lethal weapon of destruction and it did not take her long to dispose of them all.
CHAPTER 13
The roads were not entirely free of burnt-out vehicles, but the soldiers did not face any more significant obstacles and arrived at their initial destination without having to stop again. They did see several other diseased wandering aimlessly. Lewis’s close encounter made him contemplate his earlier words about the similarity between the infected and people with dementia. It reminded him of his own mother who had died from Pick’s disease several years before. It reminded him of Wood’s words of warning.
Stansted Mountfitchet was a small green-belt town. It had well-groomed gardens and a mix of modern, detached properties on the outskirts with older, more traditional cottages in the centre that had pretty wooden beams and thatched roofs. It was a pleasant yet sleepy town and the carnage that they found in its quiet streets seemed all the more shocking because of it. The village green in the middle had several wrecked cars abandoned on it. Some of the houses had caught fire and burned freely. The taint of smoke still lingered and the overall effect was one of a village in the Middle Ages that had just suffered a pillaging from marauders.
The soldiers drove slowly, taking it all in and looking for the weapons store. In a location that looked as peaceful as this Lewis found he could envisage quite clearly the horrors that must have occurred, as though he could still hear and see the chaos. Neigh
bours, who had lived side by side uneventfully for years or even decades, turning on each other and savaging each other in the night. It made him feel nauseous so he tried not to think about it. Instead he focussed on the soldiers around him, under his command now and largely reliant on him to keep them alive for one day at a time. He had recovered after the trauma of his near-death experience; the scratch down his cheek was not very deep and had stopped bleeding. Mentally he tried to prepare himself to take charge once more and present a strong figure to his troops.
On the far side of the town they found the small industrial trading estate, hidden away behind a copse. The estate was little more than a cul-de-sac. The units were mainly involved with plumbing and carpentry supplies, and the weapons store looked quite out of place. It was a single storey building with white brick walls and heavy, metal shutters. To the right side of the building there was a reception area that led to the shop but the door to that also had a metal grill in the glass and a large padlock. What neither Lewis nor any of his troops noticed was that the padlock was on the inside.
The vehicles stopped twenty metres away. There was no movement or sound from anywhere so Lewis warily got out of the truck and went over to both Land Rovers. He quickly appraised the state of remaining ammunition and redistributed it to all the troops appropriately. It was important that everyone had at least a few bullets, but with some notable exceptions that was just about all that anyone would have. He cursed under his breath and silently prayed that they had no more unfriendly encounters. They just could not deal with it right now.
“As before, defensive positions. Turn the three vehicles around in case we need to make a quick exit. Williams, Newman and Collins, I want you guarding your respective vehicles again. Neale and Scovell, I want you two to do the same, keep your eyes open. Straddling, Hutchison, Vallage and Millington, you are coming with me inside to tool up. Wood, do you mind taking up your position again?”
Wood was the only person that Lewis asked, rather than just ordering. He nodded and silently turned to climb back onto the roof of the truck as Lewis grabbed the bolt cutters from his Land Rover and strode towards the shop door. It was only then that he noticed that the bolt was on the inside which seemed a little odd, but he was preoccupied and ignored it.
Lewis beckoned Millington over to him. “Come on then, put that enormous brawn of yours to use.” He handed the bolt cutters to the big man. “Get to work.”
Millington smiled his broad smile. “Step back little people,” he rumbled, his deep voice commanding respect despite his lowly rank.
He shattered the glass with a swing from the bolt cutters, the noise making them all edgy. Millington looked around and then started hacking at the metal grill, severing each link in a painfully slow process that made Lewis impatient. They were all scanning the surrounding buildings. All but Millington faced away from the weapons store so nobody noticed the inner door in the shop crack open an inch. Even Millington, who was feverishly working away, did not see the muzzle of the shotgun protrude from within. Briefly it withdrew as though there had been a change of plan but then the blast made them all jump. Williams gasped, dropping her pistol and Lewis and his troops all dived for cover on the ground, shielding their heads.
Straddling was the first to crawl over to Millington to check him for wounds. His eyes were wide open, the whites staring out as Straddling grabbed his shoulder.
“You okay?” he mouthed.
There was no reaction at first. Then Millington blinked and to Straddling’s amazement he smiled.
“Yeah, sure. It didn’t hit me, just scared the bejeezus outta me that’s all. Strewth man!”
Straddling let out a deep breath.
“What the hell was that?” Lewis said, already back on his feet and standing to the side of the shop entrance. He was shielded from the interior and the anonymous shooter, his rifle up and ready.
No one had a chance to answer though before a coarse voice spoke from inside. “Try that again and I’ll shoot to kill next time. I don’t care who you are, just bugger off.”
The voice was rough and heavily accented from Devon or Cornwall perhaps, sounding like a farmer scaring people off his land, almost in a satirical parody. However it had a disturbingly unhinged quality to it, as though the man had just woken up from a drunken slumber and had not yet fully come to his senses. Everyone froze where they were. This was the first contact they had made with anyone in a couple of weeks and it unnerved them all.
Lewis answered him, trying to keep his voice level. “We come in peace.” It seemed like a lame thing to say but was the first thing he could think of. He shrugged at Straddling and continued. “Who are you?”
“Who I am is not important.”
“Are you sick?” There was no reply, just the soft but distinct click of metal on metal.
“Is there anybody else in there with you?”
Silence.
Straddling started to stand up now, peering in through the glass of the door and there was another boom as the man fired again. The ceiling of the reception area just above the door exploded in choking, white dust as the shot blasted a hole into it, deafening them all again and sending Straddling back onto his belly with his hands over his head, cursing.
As the dust cleared Lewis crawled over to Straddling and tried to reason with the man. “We mean you no harm, we aren’t contaminated. We’re military, from RAF Headley Court medical base. All we want is some ammunition. We’re running seriously low and we really need your help.”
“If you try to come in again I’ll kill you.”
“Why don’t you come with us? We can help you. We have medical supplies, doctors, secure grounds and plenty of space for other people. Just please, help us and come with us.”
“I’m staying right here. It’s not safe out there and nobody’s coming in here either. As far as I know you’re probably all sick. Go back to your base ‘cos the next time I really will shoot to kill. I mean it.” The voice rose in pitch and sounded hysterical now.
Lewis was getting more and more despondent and Straddling placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on boss, let’s go and talk about this out of his firing range.”
It was a desperate situation. They had come a reasonable distance and faced death only to be foiled right at the end when their goal was practically within reach. The man within was clearly not interested in either helping them, nor in being helped himself, and as far as Lewis could make out he sounded decidedly unbalanced.
Lewis could not think of an alternative and he reluctantly turned now to his troops. “Well, we can break in, which let’s face it will probably result in a fire-fight and mean we have to kill him and anyone else who is in there. Or we can leave him in peace with all his ammo and return to base empty-handed. Thoughts?”
Straddling answered without hesitation. His view of the world was a lot more straightforward than that of most of the others. “It’s quite simple; we desperately need the ammunition. He’s got plenty of it. If he isn’t willing to let us have some then effectively he is sentencing every one of us to death, and I for one am not about to let that happen. I say we go in and if he tries to get in our way then we shoot him.”
Lewis looked around at the soldiers all huddled about him with pitiful expressions; anxious, downcast and waiting for a solution that he just did not have right now. Vallage, Newman and Scovell were nodding their agreement and Neale looked uncomfortable and would not meet his eye. Clearly they, at least, were in favour of Straddling’s plan. He felt the pressure of leadership and wished for an obvious answer to their dilemma.
He looked up at Wood who was crouched on top of the truck. “Well? Any ideas?”
Wood looked grimly down at his boss with a hard stare and Lewis wondered if he might actually agree with Straddling.
“There is truth in what Sergeant Straddling has said,” he started, confirming Lewis’s fears. “We do really need that ammo. We aren’t going to survive for much longer without it. I just wonder
if there might be another option. Instead of killing him, why don’t we shoot to disable him? Take him down, then quickly get in there. If he is still alive then take him back to the base and get the docs to patch him up.”
Hutchison looked uncertain though. “I don’t like the sound of that. Shooting to disable him? How would we be sure that he won’t still be able to fire? And how would we be sure there aren’t loads more people in there?”
“We won’t,” Wood replied curtly, “but that’s the chance we take for maintaining a small element of compassion.”
Straddling was tense and the delay was making him angry. “That’s all very well but your sense of compassion may well get some of us killed. I say he has brought this upon himself with his own selfishness. It’s dog eat dog, either him or us. We should just get in there and get the job done. That’s what we came for so let’s do it.” He cast a wary glance at Hutchison as though to say, ‘I told you so.’
They were all silent, all eyes resting with great weight on Lewis. Clearly there was not going to be a solution that appeased everybody so he would have to make a decision and bear the responsibility himself. He just hoped that whatever he decided would not lead to mutiny. He had to balance these thoughts against what he believed to be the right course of action.
Williams, who still stood by her vehicle, was becoming increasingly agitated by the discussion. She could contain herself no longer and rounded angrily on Straddling. “You can’t be serious. What you’re talking about is murder.”
“A casualty of war I’m afraid my dear, and by refusing us ammo he has effectively become the enemy,” Straddling repeated with a grim expression.
“Well it’s not right,” she choked the words out. “He has as much right to life as we do and whatever you say it is still murder.”
Lewis looked at each of them with an earnest expression. “Yes, you are right; we do need the ammo - badly. And yes he is indeed endangering us all by refusing. But I can’t sanction going in there and killing him. He’s trying to survive, like we are, and just because there are more of us does not make it okay to murder him. Whilst in war there are indeed casualties, there is also a code of honour; morality, human rights and all of that. None of that has gone away just because of the collapse of civilisation. We can’t just go in there and kill him. It’s when things are at their very worst that we have to maintain our sense of humanity. That’s as important now as ever. Otherwise what have we got left?”
The Blood of the Infected (Book 1): Once Bitten, Twice Die Page 27