by Ricky Fleet
“Eldridge, are you still there? What do you want me to do? Over.”
“I’m here. Proceed with your next mission. I have a surprise for our friend,” she smiled.
“Roger. Over and out.”
She thought for a few minutes, weighing the possibilities of the course of action she was planning. The fire could merely be playing tricks as more debris ignited from the heat, but Morrow was almost certain.
Pressing the transmit button on the radio, she said, “Someone bring me Dodson, I need a little chat. Over.”
Minutes later, the prisoner was pushed through into the room and Eldridge turned to him.
“Dodson, I am afraid to say that Admiral Wright has sentenced you and the rest of the collaborators to death. You will be executed in the morning,” she lied.
“You brought me up all those stairs to tell me I am a dead man? Bullshit, what’s your game?” The artillery commander stood tall, refusing to be intimidated by a woman.
“Oh I am deadly serious. You will be tied to the post one at a time, along with the rest of your sick friends, then shot through the head.” She glared at him, continuing the bluff, “I was just thinking that you might want to try and earn a favor from me, where I may be convinced to speak up on your behalf to the Admiral?”
“Go fuck yourself, I was just following orders,” he argued.
“Fair enough, take him away.” Eldridge waved a hand and the guards seized his arms. “Try and get some rest, it’s sunup in a few hours and you have a busy morning.”
“Wait!” he cried out, “What favor?”
Turning to him, her eyes blazed with anger, “I want you to level Emsworth, beginning with the site of the downed helo. Drop enough explosives so that it looks like Hiroshima.”
“But why?” Dodson asked, then it clicked, “You don’t have Baxter yet, do you?”
“We will with your help,” she said, holding his gaze, “Think quickly, I need to get airborne if you won’t assist me.”
“And you promise that I won’t be executed?”
“I promise that I will try. Refuse me and you will be the first to be tied to the post,” she vowed. Time was running out and if Baxter managed to slip through to the outskirts of the village, he could escape completely.
Dodson stood for a moment, thinking. A pent up breath escaped, “Very well, untie me and I will get my men together. We will raze Emsworth to the ground,” he agreed.
“That’s good. Don’t think of it as murder, think of it as exterminating a rat. A very big, evil, psychotic, murdering rat.”
Word had spread of the possible sighting and the search parties gathered at the four Vikings to watch the show. Eldridge watched from above as the night sky lit up with the howitzer barrels’ flash, followed by the deafening boom of the unleashed shell. In the distance the explosion could be seen rising into the air, a mixture of fire, mud and building material. For thirty minutes the howitzer coughed the death dealing ordinance, gradually levelling every square inch of the village in righteous vengeance. The night receded as more fires burned and after the artillery fell silent, the whole base was lit up by the glowing conflagration.
Satisfied they had certainly killed Baxter and nothing, alive or dead, could survive in the fires, she spoke into her radio, “Ceasefire. Dodson, you have my gratitude, and I will speak to command right now on your behalf. To all search parties, use the light to carry out one final sweep and then call it a night. Tomorrow, we begin to take back our country, over.”
At the guarded bridge, cheers rung out and shots were fired into the air in celebration.
“Please be alive,” Eldridge muttered to herself, meaning DB and Jonesy. They would rejoice that the cause of much of their pain had been dealt with.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“Rise and shine,” Mike called through the plane.
Winston awoke with a start, pulled from a nightmare of a high ledge that stretched on forever with spiders pouring from the cracks in the metalwork. Their thick bodies scurrying over his skin, trying to get inside his mouth to lay eggs in his stomach.
“I’m up,” he finally answered.
“Lazy cunt,” muttered Debbie, loud enough to carry through to him.
“And a good morning to you, princess,” he called back smiling.
They breakfasted and packed up their belongings, ready to make the final leg of their journey. In the hangar, nothing stirred in the shadows so they exited and made for the eastern fence line of the airfield. Zombies that caught sight of the fresh prey were disappointed when they discovered the chain link in their way and the survivors disappearing into the distance, middle fingers raised.
“How do you think we will get inside the prison if the dead are around?” Winston asked, his sense of unease growing with each step.
“Worst case scenario is we have to try and get over the walls on our own,” Mike explained, “With a rope and some bolt croppers, the razor wire won’t be an issue.”
“I hate to even ask, but what if the prison has fallen?”
“It won’t have,” Mike glowered, “It can’t have.”
“Hey,” Winston smiled, “If your brother is half as ruthless as you are, I’m sure it will be fine.”
“He is,” Mike grinned back, taking the strange compliment.
“If you two are done sucking each other’s dicks, we are nearly there,” Debbie said, “Keep the noise down.”
“Ok, boss,” Winston replied.
They came upon the town from the open fields. Homes and gardens stretched into the distance from the estate which Jonesy, Sam, and Braiden had scouted the prison from. Jumping the low, wooden fence, they cautiously approached the road, expecting the streets to be teeming with the dead.
“Where is everybody?” Debbie asked, feeling the same sense of loneliness that had taken over in the middle of the dead city days earlier.
“Can’t you hear them?” Winston whispered.
A steady drone broke the silence as they stood there, more noticeable without the crunching footsteps.
“That sounds like quite a welcoming party,” Debbie said with growing apprehension.
“Zombies mean people,” Mike declared and jogged down the road, heedless of the danger from the dark houses.
“Mike, wait up,” Debbie called, trying to keep pace.
Reaching the same corner that Jonesy had peered around days earlier, Mike nearly shouted with glee at the gathered dead and the guards who watched cautiously from the walls.
“I told you he would be ok,” Mike said, “And it looks like the prisoners have already taken over the place.”
Winston looked at the surly looking men that patrolled the perimeter and his concern bloomed into full-fledged panic. Heavily tattooed and muscled, the men didn’t look like they would welcome him with open arms. It was more likely they would use him for sport or as a sex toy, even with Mike as a potential friend.
“How do we get their attention?” Debbie wondered, seeing the hundreds of undead. They hadn’t been sighted by the zombies because their attention was riveted on the prison building, but the prisoners started to gesticulate.
“We may as well go up and knock,” Mike laughed, throwing caution to the wind and running towards danger.
“What the hell are you doing?” Debbie hissed in fear, following in spite of her terror.
The dead were unaware of the newcomers until Mike started to communicate with the laughing guards.
“How do we get inside? Is there another entrance?” he shouted and rotting faces turned in unison.
“You don’t get inside, you prick,” replied one of the men, then shouted down to the crowd, “Feeding time you dead fucks!”
“When I get inside I’m going to kill you first,” Mike smiled back at the man, ignoring the dead who shambled towards them.
“Good luck with that. You’d better start running.”
“Lucky for me you can’t run,” Mike answered, standing firm, “You will be right there wa
iting when Craig and I decide how to kill you slow.”
The grin died on his face, “You know Craig?”
“He’s my big brother, and by the look on your face you know what he is going to do to you,” Mike confirmed.
“Shit, I’m sorry, man,” the man started to babble in fear, “Listen, head in that direction and look for a flare. We have tunnels which can get you inside safely.”
As the trio fled from their growing undead following, Mike was relieved to hear barked orders to wake his brother. Adrenaline gave them energy and the growing optimism of Mike and Debbie was not shared by Winston. They reached the fields once more and watched the sky for several minutes, the moans of the zombies approaching by the second.
“There!” Debbie cried out at the red hissing flare as it rose to the heavens.
“Quickly, we are nearly home and dry,” Mike shouted and they dodged between buildings until they found the source of the blazing beacon.
A group of armed men had pushed a sheet of plywood clear of a tunnel entrance and stood looking around for the survivors.
“There they are!” shouted the previously laughing guard, trying to ingratiate himself.
“No thanks to you,” Mike growled as he approached, before turning to his brother.
“Mike, how the hell did you make it? I am so glad to see you,” Craig Arater asked, tears of joy in his eyes as he bear-hugged his brother.
“It’s a long story, buddy,” Mike said, then pointed to Debbie and Winston, “It’s partly down to these two crazy fuckers.”
“My house is your house, you saved my brother and I won’t forget that,” Craig said sincerely and then hugged them both too.
“I’m Debbie,” she blushed like a teenage girl at the handsome thug.
“Winston,” he nodded and caught the smirks of the other prisoners.
“Well we have warm beds, warm food, and warm pussy, you can have them in whatever order you want.” Craig clapped Winston on the back and laughed.
“Do you think we should get moving?” Debbie asked as the first of the dead skirted the building and spotted them.
“All things in good time,” Craig replied and turned to the laughing guard, “Did you really put my brother in danger?”
The others moved back and the man looked about ready to cry, “Sorry, Craig, I didn’t know he was your brother.”
“You could have killed my family!” Craig screamed, his face going dark red with rage.
Taking hold of the terrified man, he punched him repeatedly in the face, skin splitting and teeth falling from the broken mouth. Head rocking on his neck, he fell in a heap to the floor, unconscious. The men gathered ‘round and Winston saw no pity in their eyes, just deadpan expressions that spoke of a lack of empathy for his plight.
“You weren’t kidding when you said he was a hard man,” Debbie husked to Mike, aroused by the violence.
“I told you, we are going to rule this world,” he replied.
“Drag him to the wall, I’m going to peel him for the dead to feed on,” Craig ordered and the prisoners pushed him down the hole, then followed.
“After you,” Mike graciously offered and Debbie and Craig climbed down the makeshift ladder.
“I can’t go with you,” Winston said quietly to Mike.
“What are you talking about?” Mike said with surprise.
“I don’t belong here, I will get murdered in my sleep.” Winston started to back away, aware of the firearm lurking in his belt.
“You don’t have to be afraid, you are with me. I won’t let any of them touch you.”
“I’m sorry, I really am. You should get to safety before they eat us both.” Winston pointed out the dead who were only thirty feet away.
Mike stepped forward and Winston flinched, expecting a punch. He looked heartbroken as he pulled the large youth in for a hug, “I wasn’t going to hit you for fuck sake. You look after yourself, you fat bastard. If you ever change your mind, you know where we are, ok?”
“I will,” Winston smiled, “Get your ass in that tunnel and keep Debbie warm for me.”
“I’ll tell her you will come back to claim her,” Mike laughed as he descended the ladder.
“Don’t scare the poor girl,” Winston chuckled, “Goodbye, Mike.”
“See you around,” he answered and slammed the wooden panel down over the opening.
Looking upon the hundreds of prison dead, Winston remarked, “Can we talk about this?”
Their raised arms and snapping jaws told him they were in no mood to discuss the merits of a vegetarian diet, so he turned and started to jog away. Some had fallen onto the thick wood, scratching in desperation to get inside. Most followed, eager for him to tire and provide their first meal in weeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The time had come. The weather was proving to be elusive in predicting from one day to the next, the temperatures had gone back and forth like a fiddler’s elbow. Periods of harsh cold had given way to unseasonable sunshine, and the group had opted to make their attempt on the castle with warmth on their side. The cold had proven a useful ally, but was temperamental and could lull them into a false sense of security at just the wrong moment. DB was fully recovered, the wound consisting of a long scar and a lump of tissue that had formed which Christina said may shrink with time. The survivors had carried out more raids into the shops and housing estates to gather as much as they could for the winter. The fishing rods had also been collected and, with some small success, Jonesy had rekindled his love for the hobby.
“Mmm, this is so good,” said Sam between mouthfuls of cooked trout.
“Indeed, my compliments to the chef,” added Gloria.
Jonesy doffed an imaginary cap as he finished grilling the last of the fish in the oven. The family had been sat around discussing the plan for days, even before DB was on his feet and able to add another expert point of view.
“We have seen all we can see of the prison and its vulnerabilities. I think we stand a good chance of retaking it with minimal loss of life,” DB noted, before the conversation moved onto the upcoming battle.
“I hope so, buddy, I really do,” Kurt said. He had forced himself to avoid the subsequent reconnaissance missions, where ropes and other items had been secreted for the eventual breach. The boys had taken to the training like a duck to water, Jonesy had remarked on their diligence.
“All things in good time,” John cautioned, “We need the boys to show us the layout of the castle.”
Sam and Braiden had used some blank paper to draw the perimeter of the castle as best they could remember from the school tour of the previous year. They had loved the opportunity to get away from the classroom for differing reasons; Braiden so he could try his luck with one of the girls in the hidden rooms of the building, Sam so he could study the ancient architecture. Braiden’s trespass would be useful when they got inside the mazy hallways of the fortress.
“There are four main entrances,” Sam pointed to the crude sketch, “The main gatehouse and courtyard with the drawbridge and portcullis, a second and third gatehouse that used to be the entrance for the markets that took place within the grounds, and lastly a modern entrance for the vehicles to reach the garages set in the north east wall.”
Sam pointed at the three sites and their position in relation to the river which ran around the grounds in a southerly direction before veering west, skirting the town before resuming its flow south again. The safest entry points were the main gate and the newly added car gateway, as they lay closest to the fallback of the narrowboat in case they ran into insurmountable danger.
“The most secluded is the vehicle gate, it sits on a track that is hidden by trees. The Duke and Duchess of Norfolk prefer their privacy,” Sam continued.
“And the main drawbridge faces the town?” DB asked and Sam nodded.
“It means they are probably swarming around which puts us in a precarious position,” Gloria added.
“So it will be safer to
take the rear passage,” Sarah said.
“Is that an offer?” Kurt couldn’t help himself and most of the group burst out laughing, even Gloria covered a sly grin with her hand.
Sarah finally understood the double entendre and slapped his arm, “Here we are planning to lay siege to a castle and all you can think about is sex.”
“Sorry,” Kurt bowed his head.
“You get me into that place safely,” Sarah smiled and winked at him, “Then we can talk.”
“What the actual fuck?” Sam spluttered.
“Oh my,” Sarah flushed a deep shade of crimson, “Wait! How would you even know what we were talking about?”
“It is twenty sixteen,” shrugged Braiden, “We get porn on our phones.”
“Well… you shouldn’t,” she blustered, “You are both banned from porn until you are at least eighteen.”
“I don’t think they can get it anymore anyway,” explained Peter, “The apocalypse has knocked out the power.”
“Yeah, I guess you are right,” Sarah shook her head at her absurd restriction, “I am so embarrassed.”
“Anyway, you were telling us about the entrances,” Jonesy deflected the conversation.
“Yes,” Sam continued, refusing to meet the eyes of the group, “If I was invading, I would go through the… erm… rear gate.”
“That way we can take the main gatehouse from the inside. If we can get to the upper chamber, we can dismantle the mechanisms that have been installed to keep the portcullis raised. As soon as that is sealed, we go wing by wing until the place is ours,” Braiden added and Jonesy nodded proudly at Kurt; they were already showing solid tactical decision making.
“It takes us into the north eastern part of the grounds. From there we are out in the open as the main buildings sit to the south. In some ways it helps as we can retreat easily, but we will be totally exposed until we get into the main complex,” DB leaned on the table, finger pointing and triceps straining at the sleeves of his combat fatigues.
Peter caught the appreciative glance of the doctor and nudged Kurt, who looked and smiled. Love had been stolen, but now it looked like a new relationship could be blossoming. The level of care she had given the unconscious soldier had gone above and beyond, not simply because of the apocalypse and the need for fighting men.