by Russ Watts
“It was him,” said Neale. “No doubt. And the only thing the Prime Minister is interested in doing now is eating you. So accept it.”
Carrington opened his mouth but no words came out. His face was ashen and his confidence drained.
“So what now?” asked Tony. “Sorry, Carrington but we don’t have time to debate if the PM is alive or not. Time is not on our side.”
“What about through Parliament? Is there another way down to the bunker?” asked Bashar. “We’re out of time and options.”
More and more zombies were filling the road. Hundreds had already amassed in Great George Street and several more were emerging from the nearby stores. Some appeared by the removal van, their gnashing teeth and scraping feet horribly familiar.
“Well?” Lulu gave Carrington a firm prod in the back with the butt of her knife. “Well?”
Carrington shrugged. “What do you want me to say? Probably. Look, politics is a fickle business. I’ve only been in the job for six months. Believe it or not but they don’t tell you everything. Nobody could’ve predicted this. Nobody thought this would happen.” He looked at Bashar. “What am I supposed to do?”
Sporadic gunfire reached Bashar’s ears.
“We have to move. Let’s head for the bridge. Maybe we can find a route through to Parliament. If there’s one place in London that would be protected, then it’s there.”
They took off after Bashar toward Westminster Bridge. Bashar circumnavigated an old black carriage and the remains of a horse that was still bridled. The carriage driver was nowhere to be seen. On their right Big Ben loomed into view. The limestone cladding was untouched and the cast iron framework still impressive against the blue-grey sky behind it. A plume of smoke obscured the clock face and Bashar’s eyes followed it down to its origin. The Palace of Westminster was alight, the lower level burning fiercely. The flames gave the building a golden glow and Bashar knew they were not going to find any place safe to go. Carrington was wrong: the government had fallen. The Prime Minister was dead, the Deputy was clueless and the Houses of Parliament were burning to the ground. He doubted if there was even anyone in the bunker. Had COBRA even managed to convene one meeting? He suspected that whatever resistance they had, whatever military was close enough to fight the demon and zombies, was just pure luck and operating under their own volition. If the ruling government could not protect itself, then what chance did the rest of the population have? For the first time that day Bashar began to realise that what was happening might spread beyond the city, if it hadn’t already. The demon appeared to still be constrained by the witch but the dead roamed free. Unless in the immediate vicinity of the witch where they could be controlled and contained, then they were free to promulgate their infectious evil. The zombies would not recognise borders and would spread the disease that brought the dead back to life.
Bashar smiled inwardly. It was such a stupid expression, saying that the dead could come back to life. The bodies might have reanimated but they certainly had not come back to life. He could see from looking at their soulless eyes that there was no life there.
“I guess we’re not getting any help there then,” said Tony, looking at the Palace of Westminster. “She’s going down in flames again.”
“Where to now? We can’t keep running forever,” said Neale breathlessly.
The demon crashed through another building sending vibrations coursing through the area. The road trembled as if struck by an earthquake.
“Jesus,” said Carrington, “I don’t believe it.” He pointed to the river. “That’s the HMS Duncan.”
They ventured further onto the bridge and Bashar saw the zombies amassing behind them. They were still some distance away, and the witch was still walking with them. The demon was marching through London, seemingly intent on reducing as much of it as he could to rubble. The swirling fog around the demon continued to grow, blossoming like a spring bud.
“He’s right. He’s bloody right,” said Tony cheerfully. “It’s the Duncan, all right. Now that bitch has got a fight on her hands.”
“I wonder if they got a mayday sent out.” Rad looked at Carrington. “From the bunker, I mean. Would they be able to communicate with that ship?”
“Of course.” Carrington bristled. “We’ve advanced a bit since the last World War. The terrorists have given us the opportunity to boost all of our security measures and military. We’ve more satellites than China. China. You can bet the Duncan is here on more than a mercy mission. The PM would have authorised whatever measures were necessary to defeat our enemy. Even in peacetime we’re always on high alert, both ready and capable of defending ourselves.”
Neale remembered the PM’s face, the way his sallow skin had pulled around the corners of his eyes.
“She’s the newest ship in the fleet, I think,” said Tony. “The best there is, equipped with the most modern technology around.”
“You know the PM is dead, right?” Neale looked back at the demon, its black head rearing up through the fog and red eyes penetrating the impenetrable. He wanted more than anything to believe in Carrington, to believe there was a way out of this and that the PM was right now sitting in a secret underground bunker one mile beneath them, but he couldn’t. If the HMS Duncan was all they had to offer, then London would soon be lost. It would take more than one warship, no matter how armed it was, to defeat Belphegor.
“Bang on, sir,” said Carrington proudly, replying to Tony. He ignored Neale and kept his eyes locked on the ship. It was as if he were looking at a long lost lover. All his hopes and dreams had been realised. The Duncan was going to be their saviour. Carrington approached the bridge and leant over the green balustrade. The ship was sitting in the middle of the Thames, north of Westminster Bridge.
“That right there is not just a Royal Navy warship, but the Royal Navy warship. She’s a Type-45 destroyer, one of our newest, as Tony mentioned,” said Carrington. “The HMS Duncan. Anti-air and anti-ship missiles, Sea Viper air defence system, Aster missiles and Phalanx guns, not to mention the best damn crew anywhere. She’s got 8000 tonnes behind her and is a match for anyone. Let’s see what this supposed demon of yours can do when up against our best.”
Bashar watched the ship with interest and hope. There were no other warships in sight and he suspected that the Duncan just happened to be around when the call came. From the deck he watched a helicopter take off. The roiling fog emanating from the demon had reached through the damaged buildings lining the western side of the Thames and was rapidly spreading down toward the ship. Bashar leaned over the side. The water was murky and as he looked at it a small boat below passed right underneath them. It was drifting silently with nobody at the helm. Bodies littered the deck and brightly coloured bulbs adorned the hull, illuminating the blood-splattered cabin.
Bashar looked up as the helicopter buzzed them and then swooped away to the right.
“It’s a Lynx Wildcat,” said Tony. A smile spread over his face. “It carries Sea Venom missiles. Watch this. If it goes for that monster then Belphegor or whatever the fuck that thing is will be history.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Lissie, grasping Tony’s hand.
Bashar propped himself up against the side of the bridge. Carrington was standing to his left with Lulu next to him. On the other side were Tony, Lissie, Marama, Rad and Neale. Bashar felt reassured by Tony’s optimism and yet worried too. This had the feeling of a final chance, as if the Duncan was the last throw of the dice. What else was left?
Bashar watched as the helicopter slowly flew up into the air. Strangely the fog was not altered, despite the high wind speed generated by the rotor blades. The fog squatted smugly over the Thames, encroaching upon the Duncan as Belphegor approached.
“Come on, you bastard,” muttered Carrington.
“Kill it,” said Lulu. “Please just kill it.”
The Duncan was no more than a hundred feet north of the bridge and Bashar could see figures scurrying about deck as if
it were a hive of ants. Men and women hurried to their positions and Bashar heard shouts from the eastern side of the river. Three soldiers were running toward them carrying guns.
Simultaneously the Lynx helicopter and the HMS Duncan fired their missiles at the demon that was now on Victoria Embankment. The first missile cruised past the monster’s head as it ducked out of the way. The second and third though impacted upon the creature’s body and the resulting explosions sent waves of warm air across the river. The crimson fire made Bashar blink and the black smoke mingled with the fog to create a thick wall that almost hid the beast’s demise. There was a deep roar as the beast went down and Bashar saw its tail follow its massive body as it fell backward over the Ministry of Defence building. The helicopter took off over the city, away from the warship, and Bashar heard cheers coming from the deck.
“Yes. Hole in one,” said Tony triumphantly, wrapping his arms around Lissie.
“Nice.” Rad hugged Marama. “I can’t believe it’s finally gone.”
“Yeah, now it’s just the dead we have to worry about.” Neale felt weary but relieved. “If we’re lucky maybe they’ll eat that thing.”
“Carrington, I think your ride is here,” said Bashar. He looked around him at the smiling faces. The Navy had rid them of the demon, though Neale was right about the zombies. They were spread out and going to be harder to pick off. Still, at least the military now could concentrate on them instead of worrying about the demon that had levelled half of London.
The three soldiers sprinting across the bridge toward them were halfway across. Bashar could see their red faces and grim determination. Perhaps someone from the warship had spotted Carrington, or maybe they were just on the lookout for survivors. Whatever the reason he was pleased that salvation had finally come.
Carrington smiled. “With that thing dead we can really start to get things back under control.” Carrington tightened the knot in his tie, pulling it up to the collar. He licked a finger and wiped it across his eyebrows. “I guess they’ll want me aboard to say something to the crew. They might have moved the command centre when the bunker was lost. I’m going to have my work cut out getting things organised again. London will survive, but it will be a long and arduous road.”
“You remember our deal though, right?” asked Neale. “We got you here. Now you get us on board that ship. We’ve got families out there we need to find.”
“Of course. I’ll see what I can do,” replied Carrington. He watched the helicopter from the Duncan follow the bend in the river and head over the London Eye. The pods were crammed full of people, yet the glass was covered in blood. Each pod contained a dozen or more zombies. Carrington suspected his job of rebuilding London was going to take a lot longer than he wanted. People from all around the world had been killed today and foreign governments were going to want answers. Carrington knew that what he did next was important. He had to get the situation under control.
The three soldiers reached the Westminster side of the bridge. Carrington stepped out into the centre of the road and smiled broadly. “Gentlemen, I’m so proud that you have served your country so well. Do you have—?”
“Stay back,” ordered one of the soldiers, pointing his gun at Carrington. “Civilians should be inside if they could not make the evacuation point. This is no place for you to be.” The solider looked around at everyone. “All of you, just stay back and let us do our jobs.”
The other two soldiers raced on, their guns now raised and pointed in the direction of Parliament.
“Just a moment, what do you mean? That monster is dead. You’re here to take me to the Duncan aren’t you?” Carrington stepped forward to the solider. “Aren’t you?”
“Sorry, sir, but whoever you are you need to leave this area right away. It’s not safe.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” said Tony. “But we need to get on that warship. You know who this man is?”
The soldier’s young eyes looked Carrington up and down. “No, never seen him before in my life.”
“Carrington Rupert White. Ring any bells?”
The young solider looked at his two comrades who had reached the top of Great George Street. Their bodies were slipping into the fog and gunfire began to ring out.
“No. And I’ve got to go. There’s a fucking army of zombies coming and—”
“And I am the Prime Minister, soldier,” said Carrington firmly. “I understand you want to join in the fight but the most important thing you can do for your country right now is get me on board the HMS Duncan where I can start to manage this balls-up.”
More shots rang out and then a scream. The fog was churning its way up onto the bridge now. Bashar sensed that Carrington was losing the argument. And the soldier was right about the zombies. They didn’t have time for this.
The solider took a few steps toward the fog. “If you really are who you say you are, then you need to get to the Shard. The Duncan is heading past the Southbank to rendezvous at Greenland Dock. She’s not stopping to pick anyone up.”
Another scream emanated from the fog and the soldier swallowed nervously.
“Go,” said Bashar “Go help your friends.”
“There’s another platoon on the way. We encountered a lot of resistance around Waterloo. We’re all that’s left of my unit. They might be able to help you.”
“Wait.” Carrington pleaded. “Please, Greenland Dock is too far. I’ll never make it there. You have to—”
“The Shard,” shouted the soldier as he left. “The helicopter’s going to pick up the Prime Minister’s family and then head to the Duncan. That’s your best shot.”
The young soldier ran head first into a wall of fog and disappeared.
“We’re going to need wheels.” Tony looked at the Duncan. It was indeed sailing away from them, skirting past the London Eye. “This isn’t over yet.”
A zombie stumbled from the fog and onto the bridge. “Shit, they’re here,” muttered Neale.
“Carrington, it’s time to go,” said Bashar.
“But…but I can’t—”
“Carrington, listen to me.” Bashar rested his hand on Carrington’s shoulder. He actually felt something approaching pity for him. He was supposed to be in charge of the country and yet was running for his life through zombie-infested streets. “We can make it to the helicopter. We can do this. You just have to keep going for a little longer. You’re the man, right? You can do this. For your country?”
Carrington nodded. “I guess so. I know how much you need me.”
Neale rolled his eyes as another zombie came through the fog. “Can we go now?”
“Just stick close, Carrington,” said Bashar. “The demon is dead. The witch is behind us. If we can get a vehicle then—”
The sky seemed suddenly to get dark and Carrington was cast into shadow. Bashar turned to look over his shoulder and saw a giant shape emerge from the fog and smoke above the Embankment. He saw a tail flick toward the river and then two horns rise up into the sky until they were above the smoke. He saw two red eyes scanning the city and then a blood-curdling roar as the demon stepped forward from the remains of the Defence building. A massive scar ran the length of its body and Bashar shivered as it crashed into the Thames, its massive body displacing a large volume of water.
“Holy God, it’s not over,” whispered Marama.
“This isn’t happening,” said Neale. “Tell me this isn’t happening. I saw it go down. I saw that thing die. Didn’t I?”
The demon crashed into the Thames and smashed its arms down to the riverbed. The surge of water raised the Thames into what looked like a tidal wave. The HMS Duncan was immediately sent rocking and the Thames Path on the eastern side of the river was submerged under water that licked at the base of County Hall. The water surged toward the London Eye and drowned Jubilee gardens.
Bashar gripped his hammer and meat cleaver tightly. He felt that he was going to need them soon. He watched as hundreds of zombies around the London Eye we
re all submerged in the displaced water and the HMS Duncan tried to turn to face the beast.
“Oh no.” Tony pulled Lissie back. “We’re going. We’re going to find a vehicle,” he shouted. “Now!”
Bashar saw Tony and Lissie run towards Waterloo, followed by Rad, Lulu and Marama.
“Go on, Neale, I’ll bring him.”
Neale nodded and looked warily at Carrington. “Watch your back.”
Bashar watched as Belphegor moved through the Thames. Although he was slow, the Duncan was slower. It couldn’t turn fast enough in the water and its guns were pointed in the wrong direction to take another shot at the monster. Bashar saw men and women on deck firing at it, little sparks of gunfire looking like dancing fireflies in the distance. Dozens of them fired at the advancing creature, but their bullets had no effect. Bashar saw the demon raise both arms high into the sky and knew what was coming next.
“Come on, Carrington. We need to hurry and find a vehicle. The Duncan can’t help us now, and we can’t help them.”
Bashar saw Belphegor’s thick arms descend, each one as thick and wide as Westminster Bridge. They struck the HMS Duncan with enough force that it split the hull of the warship in two immediately. The cracking sound it made was akin to an explosion and Bashar winced as the Duncan was broken into two. He could hear the screams and cries of those on deck in between the dying gunfire. Something inside the ship exploded and he watched as Belphegor hit it again, the demon pounding its arms against the sinking ship. The sound of the hull breaking apart was deafening. Metal and steel being wrenched apart collided with the roar of the demon. Zombies began to swarm from the western side of the river and Bashar grabbed Carrington’s arm. Together they ran across the bridge after Tony, leaving destruction in their wake. The crew of the HMS Duncan died along with the ship as the Thames gobbled up the best warship in the Royal Navy.
London’s last chance at survival had been destroyed in seconds.