by Ricky Fleet
“Magazine!” yelled Langham, reloading.
“Watch the flanks!” shouted Harkiss, swinging to the right.
A small contingent of zombies had bypassed them and attacked from between the trailers. Before he could get a shot off, the creatures barrelled into them, knocking Langham to the ground. Holding up an arm to defend her face from the gnashing teeth, she screamed as a chunk was bitten off, uniform and all. Holbeck and the others had pulled their side arms. The pistols bucked in their hands, slugs destroying brains at point blank range as the main swarm approached. Petermann and Holbeck reached into the struggling mass, pulling their battle sister free.
“Fuck!” screamed Eldridge at the sight of her shredded limb.
With no time to spare, they pushed away or shot the remaining monstrosities and fell back into position.
“I can still fight!” Langham cried, grimacing from the pain. “Give me your gun!”
Passing the Glock, Eldridge quickly took aim with her rifle again. Each shot sent a wave of agony through Langham’s arm from the recoil, but she kept firing until the magazine ran dry. Pressing the release, it fell to the floor and she tried to pry a fresh one from her vest. The damaged arm was unresponsive, hand curled in paralysis from the poison which flowed through her veins.
“Here!” Harkiss growled, holding a magazine upright in his palm.
Slapping the pistol grip down, it locked and Harkiss racked it for her. She started firing again, scoring a kill for each bullet. The creeping cold had reached her shoulder and sent icy tendrils towards her neck. It would not be long before she succumbed.
“Petermann, get up on the shower block roof and see how many are following!” Holbeck barked.
Like a whippet, he complied and scurried up the iron drain pipe. Backing towards the entrance of their trap, Eldridge cast a glance upward as he scanned the enemy.
“Most of them are falling for it, Sarge!” he yelled. Some were breaking off and heading back, but the bulk formed a procession thirty wide and over a hundred deep.
“Good. Everyone get back to the entrance on the double!”
Helping their brother down, they bolted towards the gap in the caravan blockade. Facing off against a shambling wall of filth, the troops glowered their eternal hatred. It was so palpable they could feel it emanate from them in a black wave.
“Hold your fire and get the valves open,” Holbeck grunted. “I’ll stay here to keep their attention.”
Langham was fading fast. The cold fingers of death were clamping around her mind, dulling her senses. For a second, she considered eating a bullet and making a quick end of it, but that was not her way. Living a life of excitement and thrills, she decided to go out in the same way and staggered to the rear of their trap.
“Give me…” she croaked, shocked at the weakness in her voice. Summoning her last reserves of energy, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Give me your grenades,” she shouted with more force. “Bring a couple more of the gas tanks to me.”
“What’re you planning?” Eldridge called back, opening one of the vessels.
“They want a meal? I’ll give them a fucking meal they’ll never forget!”
Arguing was moot. Eldridge knew the wound was fatal and felt immense pride at her friends’ bravery. “Are you sure?”
Her throat had gone numb and it took every ounce of her remaining will to stay on her feet. Nodding instead, she was heartened when Harkiss and Petermann dragged two tanks over. Leaning against the closest, she was glad of the support the heavy cylinder provided. The open tubes hissed, spraying the rotten egg smell of the compressed gas over them.
“Will you be strong enough to pull the pins?” Petermann asked as she swayed.
A lethargic shake of the head indicated no.
“I’ve got an idea,” Dougal said, holding back the tears. Kneeling, he unlaced one of his boots. After threading the shoelace through the pins of the deadly balls, he stowed them inside one of her pockets and secured the clasp. Tying the loose end to the upright canister, he kissed her on the cheek. “All you need to do is sit down and it’ll pull the pins for you. I’ll see you in Valhalla, Mel. We’ll drink a toast to our brothers and sisters together.”
A bone-weary smile formed on her lips and she winked. It was time to go.
“All ready, Sarge!” called Eldridge.
“Ok, get your asses under the trailers to safety!”
Dropping to their knees, the troops retreated and scurried through the dark underbellies of the caravans.
Holbeck watched them go and turned to Langham. Offering a crisp salute, he said, “You’ll be a legend, private. People will talk about your bravery for a thousand years after this war.”
A twitch from her unbitten arm was all she could manage in returning the salute, but Holbeck knew what it meant and squeezed her shoulder once before ducking out of sight.
She heard the final order from her sergeant, yet it sounded a million miles away. “Fall back to the APCs, ignore the flares! We’ll wait for detonation and then light them up!”
Her vision was starting to fog as the infection commenced shutting down her mind, one neuron at a time. Their plan had worked better than they could have imagined with nearly every zombie shuffling into the kill zone, unaware that the meat on offer came with a steep price. Marching towards her like an all-conquering army, the undead growled their jubilation at a fresh meal. Swarming Langham from all directions, they raked at her with tattered fingers and tore flesh with decayed teeth. None of the pain registered, only a sense of relief that her last act would be to kill thousands of the abominations.
Fuck you! she screamed from the last, uncorrupted corner of her mind and slumped to the ground. The extracted pins tinkled against the steel cylinders; a chime signalling the end of her life. Then nothing.
***
From the rear of the Warthog, Eldridge watched carefully. With an almighty crack, the grenades ruptured the first cylinders and a searing column of flame rose into the air. Thin aluminium walls were no match for the blast and the nearest trailers peeled open like sardine cans, showering them with smouldering furniture and insulation. Like a row of dominos, the initial explosion sent shrapnel tearing through the next vessel and they added their own fuel to the eruption one by one until the whole perimeter was an inferno. Contained within the hellish fire, the zombies who had survived thrashed around in confusion. Skin peeled and flesh melted under the intense heat, streaming from their bodies and hissing like a joint of meat on a griddle. Hunks of charred flesh rained from the sky, sending the soldiers ducking for cover in their vehicles.
When the last of the zombie remains had hit the ground, Eldridge called out, “Sarge, shall we open fire, just to be sure?”
“There’s no need,” Holbeck shouted in reply. “They’re cooking.”
Poking her head through the turret housing, the stench of burning, rotten meat hit her full in the face. Holding a hand to her mouth to still the churning stomach, she watched as thousands of creatures flailed futilely against the all-consuming flames. Senses fried, they could only stagger around within the confines of the trailer shells until their bodies succumbed. Each creature added its clothing and fats to the grateful conflagration. This is what Hell must look like, she thought with a shudder.
“Everyone aboard!” yelled Holbeck. “We do this now!”
Carpenter fired the engine and Harkiss followed suit. Leaving the roiling blaze, they swung west and crashed through a wooden fence, dropping down into the muck and mire of the marshland. The two Warthogs churned their way south, their wide tracks easily guiding them along the boggy ground. A well-trodden footpath snaked off from the campsite and the drivers gunned it, careening up the steep slope in a shower of mud and dead brush. The beach was in sight and only a small concrete wall stood in their way. A juddering crash accompanied the contact, but neither APC slowed down this close to the most critical part of the mission.
Holbeck came over the radio. “Hold position a
t the south-western edge of the building. We need to have a clear line of fire along the front of the complex to kill the last undead. It’s the only way we can ensure none of the survivors get hurt by stray bullets.”
Pulling up, Eldridge aimed the heavy machine gun and opened fire down the long, steel clad wall. The wide barrel coughed out its bullets in steady bursts, chewing through the last cadavers which went cartwheeling away down the esplanade to join the other shredded bodies.
“Carpenter, move to ram the front doors. Petermann, on me!”
Holbeck jumped from the vehicle with Petermann and took up position to guard the flanks; their mobility made it an easier job than the gunner in her mechanical turret. The Warthog accelerated forward, mashing anything that lay on the paved surface. The two soldiers were carrying on the clear up with double taps on any zombie not fully dead.
Carpenter paused, the rear compartment directly in line with the sturdy doors. Holbeck banged on the steel plates. “Stand clear! We’re going to break through.”
Even over the noise of racing engines and gunfire, he could hear voices inside ushering people to safety. With a final wave, the armoured vehicle leapt backwards at speed, crashing through the barricade with a rending shriek of buckled metal. As Carpenter cleared the way, Holbeck carefully inspected the damage to make sure nothing was in danger of collapsing and injuring anyone. Harkiss moved up and into position alongside her, eager to collect their human bounty.
“We’re all clear. Dougal, move them out!”
“Yes, Sarge!”
Both rear doors were flung open and the soldiers could only stare incredulously as two lines of young children poured from the building, eyes closed and holding hands.
“That’s it, my darlings,” Joan coaxed, “You’re nearly there.”
Holbeck could see the logistical nightmare looming. “We won’t be able to fit you all inside, ma’am. I’ll need the adults to climb onto the top of the cabs and hold on.”
“That’s fine. A bit of excitement never killed anyone which is more than I can say for those bloody things!” Joan snapped, shooting a glare of disgust at the dead who had skirted the building.
“We’ve got company!” Eldridge shouted and swung the gun around.
Snapping a fresh belt into the chamber, she pulled the charging handle and let loose. Meeting a wall of devastating lead slugs, the corpses crumpled into mounds of twitching flesh before taking more than two paces. To her rear, she could hear the gasps and grunts of effort as the previously trapped people clambered aboard.
“It’s great to meet you!” she shouted, unleashing another stream of bullets into the monstrosities.
“Is everyone on?” Holbeck yelled over the din.
“That’s everyone accounted for, Sergeant,” Joan confirmed.
Before closing the rear doors on the children, Petermann leaned inside the transport cab. “There’s going to be some bouncing around, so everyone should hold on tight, ok?”
Despite their terror, they all agreed and he locked them inside. Standing on the rear foot plate, he gave a signal to Holbeck that everything was good to go.
“Ok, everyone, get ready! We’re leaving as fast as we arrived and it’s going to get bumpy!”
Harkiss fell in behind Carpenter as she drove back towards the smashed wall and the marshland beyond. In the side mirror, he could see the people clinging on for dear life to the vehicle and it reminded him of an old picture he had marvelled at as a youngster. It was of an Indian train and, because of overcrowding, every square inch of the roof and sides were covered with people. This endeavour, though smaller, was no less fraught.
“Hold tight!” Holbeck shouted as they reached the embankment.
Everyone braced themselves for the shift and, thankfully, no one was thrown clear as the heavy Warthogs dipped down. The noses met the quagmire with a squelch and churned up a mass of wet mud before righting themselves.
Letting out a long, shaky breath, Holbeck looked around at the new faces. “Not far to go now. By nightfall you’ll have clean beds and hot showers.”
Shaken deeply by the sudden upheaval to their lives, they could only grimace and nod from their precarious perches.
***
“Ok, children. You can come out now.”
Joan ushered them into the home and each face lit up as the dogs made them welcome, tails wagging furiously and tongues working overtime on kisses. When they were all inside, Angela started to prepare a fresh pot of beef stew from a box of cans which the twins had been saving for a special occasion. The others gathered outside to discuss the next leg of the journey.
“How long do you think we’ll be here, Sarge?”
“Not long, maybe an hour or two. The kids have had quite a morning and it won’t hurt to let them stretch their legs a bit.”
“I’d advise keeping them to the front of the farmhouse and the barn area,” Max added, pointing to the rutted tracks.
The sodden, green tinged ground had been churned by the sisters as they used an old excavator to push the bodies. Thankfully, they had chosen to clear the area around the front door where the worst of the fighting had taken place first. A short walk around either corner would have revealed a grotesque crush of piled corpses.
“I haven’t heard them laugh in so long,” Joan said quietly.
Between friendly chuffs came the musical giggles of the youngsters as they frolicked and petted the dogs. Touched by the sounds, the group fell silent and listened, soaking up the innocence. Two had fallen, but Holbeck knew that they would be looking down with pride at what their sacrifice had achieved. After a minute, everyone was wiping away tears. Sadness interwoven with a glimmer of hope for the future filled each of them.
Christopher broke the silence. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was so aggressive when you arrived.”
Dougal smiled. “I don’t blame you, mate. They were your only concern.”
“And now they have a chance at a real future because of your bravery,” Joan added. “We can never repay that debt.”
“No debt is due,” Holbeck replied. “In this Godforsaken world, they’re the only chance we have of longevity. Everyone on the base will die to keep them safe.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Sergeant.”
“So do I, ma’am.”
Angela peered through the door. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. The oldest children have asked about coming outside.”
“That’s fine, let them out,” Holbeck said.
A mad rush of small people tumbled from the doorway, quickly gathering around their mistress. The excitement was written on each face and even the dogs joined them, sitting obediently and listening intently to the human.
“You’re only allowed in the hay barn. If you should climb, be careful and don’t go too high. Do you understand?” Joan explained.
“Yes, Miss Macleod.”
Buzzing with excess energy, a single nod sent them racing across the grounds and through the huge opening.
“I know we’ve done a sweep, but I want Petermann, Harkiss, Eldridge, and Dougal to each take a corner of the barn. I will maintain visual on the eastern marshes in case the zombies make it across before we leave. Carpenter, you’re on the western fringe.”
They all moved off to their assigned positions, scanning the horizon for threats.
“Is there anything we can do?” Joan asked.
“Feel free to move around the area and help us keep watch. But if anything should attack, come and get us, don’t try and tackle it alone.”
“We can fight too, you know,” declared Christopher. It wasn’t a challenge, merely an observation.
“I know you can,” Holbeck replied. “But after what we’ve been through to get you here, there’s no point in taking unnecessary risks. When you’ve been on the barracks for a while and have been given weapons training, you’ll be more than welcome to join the fray alongside us.”
“Ok. I just didn’t want you to think we weren’t pulling
our weight.”
“Not at all. There’ll be plenty of time for you to fight back over the coming months, I can assure you.”
The children shrieked their enjoyment, bunching the spilled hay into piles and jumping into it from on high. The dogs leaped and bounded, caught up in the games with their new friends. It wasn’t long before Angela called out that lunch was ready and the children filed back from the barn, coated in chaff and dust. The setters emerged to chaperone the children, sneezing madly and shaking themselves.
While the survivors ate their fill, the soldiers rotated on sentry duty. Nothing emerged from the surrounding area in the time it took to fuel themselves. Even the last of the undead who were trying to reach them from the holiday park had become trapped and harmless.
“We’re going to be travelling back through villages that were full of the dead,” Holbeck said to the adults. “There’s a chance that some of the bastards will still be loitering around, so some of you will need to sit by the turret and the rest will be on the roof at the rear. I don’t need to warn you to keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times, do I?”
A couple gave nervous chuckles at the weak attempt at humour.
“No, Sergeant. I was wondering, though, how do we get to the island itself? I expect you have your own welcoming committee waiting at the gates to eat you?” Christopher asked.
“We’re going straight across the ocean to the barracks. The old girls float despite their size.”
He was astonished. “Bugger me, I never knew that. The wonders of modern technology.”
“Indeed.”
Once everyone had eaten their fill, the loading began. With more time to arrange the seating, most of the group could be squeezed inside the two separate cabs of each vehicle. Max and Angela took their dogs in the gunnery section, making them lay on the floor and providing a thick, rawhide bone for each to gnaw on the journey. The children were seated in the back with any supplies and a couple of adults to supervise. When it came time to roll out, only four had no seat but climbed up onto the roofs without complaint. A little discomfort was a small price to pay for the safety the base provided.