by Ricky Fleet
“This is actually a really shitty idea,” he muttered.
If he used the coach to crash into the frame, it could buckle and topple towards the gate, crushing him and trapping the generator inside the compound. If he used the cutting equipment, he would need to get his ass clear pretty damned quick or he would be squashed as well. Few options led to a better outcome than being flattened like a bug.
Making his way back to the storage containers, he spied a Ford Ranger tucked behind the site offices. It was the pickup truck of choice of site managers across the country and the poor flower must have been afraid of it getting dusty which is why he had concealed it. Ignoring the crane dilemma for now, he tried the doors and was not surprised that they were locked tight. Given half a chance, the tradespeople under the manager’s authority would prank him with glitter in the air vents or some other trick. Checking the rear of the truck, it had a shiny towing ball that had never even dragged a load.
The dull thuds and scraping were still emanating from the upper section of the temporary portacabin behind him. Removing the ice axe from his belt, Hombre climbed the steps and listened at the door. Several zombies were trapped inside, throwing themselves at the door after hearing the earlier commotion. If it was locked from the inside, the vehicle was lost; the converted shipping containers had no window and a solid metal door to deter thieves looking for computers and other equipment. Positioning himself at the top step, he leaned forward and slapped the handle down, withdrawing his hand in a flash. The door swung wide, crashing into the safety rail and the undead spilled out in a tangled heap. Hombre slashed down at the skulls, destroying all four brains before the things could even stand. Two suited cadavers were among the pile of dead flesh. Tossing the construction workers over the rail, he checked the pockets of the remaining men and found a key fob for the truck.
“Thanks,” he whispered, patting the creature on its back.
Unsurprisingly, the keyless entry refused to work with the dead battery. Smashing the driver’s window, he unlocked it and popped the hood. Beneath a plastic cover was the power source itself and all he had to do was find a way to jump start it. Running back across to the building, he followed the yellow cables inside. Damp concrete and wood were the predominant scents, but he could detect an undercurrent of decomposition on the draughts. Listening for a while, he could only make out the distant grumbling of the zombies in the apartment block. One by one he dismissed the wires when he found lights, bench saws and drills at their end. Shining a torch into a small room on the ground floor, he found what he was looking for. The charger packs for the cordless tools were all laid along a wall, their batteries either inserted or waiting for charge. He disregarded any that were still plugged in as the power would have leeched back into the grid over the past months.
“Fingers crossed,” he said, checking those which sat to the side.
After checking six without luck, an eighteen-volt lithium ion battery showed two out of four bars of power on the indicator strip. Yes! If he could get enough of the juice into the truck, it would fire and he could leave it idling to recharge the battery fully while he took care of the other problems. Taking one of the corded drills and a bag of woodworking tools, he headed back to the Ford. At the gates, a few zombies had escaped confinement or arrived from elsewhere and pressed against the chain link. It would take a lot more weight to break through, so he ignored them and moved on. Ripping the plug off under his boot, he repeated the process with the drill itself, leaving the wires exposed. Using electrical tape, he joined two screws to the positive and negative terminals of the lithium battery and sat it inside the engine compartment. Wrapping the copper wire from the cable around each head, he then rifled through the bag and found two G clamps. Securing the other end of the cable to the clamps, he then carefully attached them to the red and black terminals on the battery. It wasn’t ideal, but hopefully it would give enough power to turn over. All he had to do was wait.
Taking another break, he stared over at the crane. Now that he had the potential of a safer option by using the truck to tow them clear, he found the temptation to collapse the machine growing. What the fuck is wrong with me? he thought, already knowing the answer. Bragging rights! The story would see him showered with cigarettes and alcohol, as well as the adulation of his fellow inmates. As the inner dialogue went back and forth between insanity and sense, the power slowly transferred between the batteries. Opting to check the Ford first, he climbed behind the wheel and pressed the start button. The engine juddered and caught, causing the dash to light up and the fuel gauge indicator to swivel to three quarters full.
“Hell, you’ve got enough to tow every car out of the way, go on a tour of the south coast and still get back to the prison.”
Still, he found himself looking at the acetylene equipment and the thick, steel columns of the mast.
CHAPTER 32
“How’re your headaches now, sweetie?” Denise asked, joining Kurt and Sarah around the blazing fireplace.
“They come and go,” he replied. “Your tablets were fantastic, though. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. I notice you’ve had a wash since our last chat?” she teased.
“It was either that or I’d make him sleep in the dungeon,” Sarah added with a grin.
“You’re lucky I bothered. The water was bloody freezing!”
Sarah held her arms out in faux outrage. “You’re the plumber! How about you figure out some way of heating the water for us so we can have a shower or bath in comfort.”
“Fuck my life! If I’m not killing zombies, planning on how to keep us from starving to death or worrying about the imminent attack by the nutters of the prison, you now want me to get my tools back out and do manual labour.”
“Men should know their place,” remarked Gloria as she joined them.
“I agree,” Sarah replied haughtily.
“Ever since you moved into the castle you bloody women want to be treated like royalty. Typical aristocrats making the lower class do all the work.”
Denise fluttered a hand at her face. “Well you can’t expect us to get our hands dirty, surely. We might break a nail.”
“I can help!” called Bob from across the room.
“Good man,” Gloria replied. “I expect it to be up and running by tomorrow night.”
“Whoa, hold up. Tomorrow’s Sunday. I don’t work on the sabbath!” replied the handyman.
“Bob, it’s Tuesday. And you’re about as Christian as my left testicle!” Kurt fired back.
“Kurt!” Sarah was horrified. “Don’t be so rude.”
“I’m actually Jewish,” Bob countered.
“Their sabbath’s on a Friday evening to Saturday evening then,” said Gloria.
“Shit! Ok, I’m in. Just let me know what you need.”
“Thanks, mate.”
“You owe me a bottle of whisky when you hit the supermarket!”
“Consider it done,” Kurt confirmed and the maintenance man went back to his book, smiling from ear to ear.
“Where do you think you’ll set it up?” Sarah asked.
“In here would be the easiest, but for privacy’s sake I think one of the bathrooms. Most of them have their own fireplace and I can rig up some sort of moveable gravity system to heat it up directly from the flames. People will just have to be careful to monitor the temperature of the water before it gets too hot.”
“My hero,” Sarah gushed.
“Hardly. I’m going to charge everyone to use it.”
“How much?” Denise asked.
“If you keep me supplied with drugs you’re good to go.”
“I have a few left. I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.” Denise winked.
“And what about me? I don’t have any dope to supply you with.”
Kurt grinned at his wife, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“Pervert!” Sarah said. It was nice to see the way he looked at her, passion behind his eyes.
“I’m afraid my days of romantic liaisons are fading,” Gloria sighed. “And I’m sure your wife would have something to say if I paid you in naughty cuddles.”
“You can have him, the lecherous beast,” Sarah replied, shrieking as Kurt tried to smother her in kisses.
“Come on now, daddy needs his sugar,” Kurt growled lewdly as she tried to fight him off.
“You keep that up and all daddy will be getting is salt and a black eye,” Sarah replied, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“Eugh. Get a room,” Gloria muttered in her best moody teenager voice.
“No, let them do it here!” Bob chimed in. Half of the group laughed and the other half groaned their disgust. Holding up his hands in surrender, he squawked, “I was kidding. Jeez, get a sense of humour.”
“Of course, you were!” Gloria replied to more laughter. Bob quickly retreated behind the book cover.
As the hall settled back into peace and quiet, Kurt snuggled up on the long chair behind Sarah. It felt surreal to be relaxed, even joking, with everything going on in the world, but Denise had been right. He was close to burning himself out and that would be no good for anyone. Hearing gentle sobs, they turned to see Denise dabbing at her eyes.
“What’s up, love?” Kurt asked, sitting up.
“Nothing,” she replied, trying to regain her composure.
“You can tell us,” urged Sarah.
“It’s just me being silly. I was thinking about my family back home and how I’ll never see them again. Or whether I’d even want to see them knowing what they are now.”
“I’m so sorry, Denise. Here’s me acting like a complete fool when I should’ve been more considerate. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“It’s ok, sweetie. I thought I’d cried my tears, but I was just so happy to see the fun you were having with your beautiful wife.”
“I know it won’t bring you any comfort, but I firmly believe that the American people are better prepared to fight back against this plague than anyone. If I may presume, your family is just as resilient and brave as yourself?” Gloria said, stroking her hand.
“They are,” she confirmed.
“And they were well stocked with arms and ammunition?”
Denise nodded.
“Then if I were you, I’d dare to hope.”
“It doesn’t really matter as I’ll never know,” she replied, breath catching in her throat.
“Never say never,” Kurt proclaimed. “If you’d told me when the world went dark that we’d still be alive all these weeks later, I’d have laughed. Not only are we alive, but we’ve made it to a fortress and made new friends. Who can say that when we get through the winter we can’t find someone who can sail?”
“I can sail!” called Bob.
“We’re not talking about floating a rubber dinghy with a beer holder in a swimming pool!” Kurt mocked.
“Seriously. I’ve done the journey twice with friends when I was a few years younger.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Denise demanded.
“That’s bang out of order if you are,” Sarah cautioned.
“On my life, I’ve done it,” he declared, hand on heart. “It took about three weeks each way and a shit load of money and preparation.”
“Money isn’t an issue any more, and we can take our pick of boats,” Kurt mused.
“I know where my friend’s family moor their boat. I’d be happy to show you.”
“Bob, you’re a true gent. Would you mind compiling a list of the provisions when you have a spare moment?” Kurt asked.
“It’d be my pleasure, mate. If we can ever get this Godawful mess sorted, I’ll be happy to crew the vessel as well. We’d head south via Spain and the Canary Islands then west towards the Caribbean to pick up the trade winds.”
Kurt was clueless. “You’ll have to explain what that means to me at some point.”
“Gladly.”
“Thank you for giving a lady a dream, sweetheart,” Denise choked through the tears.
“My pleasure, darling.”
A glimmer of hope had been introduced into her life and she determined to fight with every ounce of her soul for the chance to make the journey. The chances her loved ones had survived were slim, but at least she could return home and find out for certain. If they had perished? She would cross that bridge when the time came, and put them down if necessary.
CHAPTER 33
The bright blue flame slowly chewed through the thick braces, runnels of molten steel trickling down and burning a path through the yellow paint. The creaks and pings of the crane shifting from the gentle breeze grew into a shrieking tumult as the centre of gravity was lost. Dropping the torch, he ran from the concrete base like a bat out of hell. Ducking behind a pallet of concrete blocks, he turned to watch the show. Considering the weight of the colossal structure, he was surprised at how slowly it toppled.
“Hurry up!”
The ballast block counterweights started to exert their influence, twisting the frame. As gravity and velocity took over, the boom swung skyward, lashing the dangling cable in an arc. The heavy hook whipped around, tearing through the roof of a house and bursting through the outside wall in a shower of masonry and timber. As the angle of the mast shifted, the cars were pulled aside like toys, clearing a path to the generator. With an ear-splitting roar, the weighted counter jib hit the ground, demolishing another two properties, sending debris flying in all directions. The one-hundred-and-fifty-foot main jib started its inexorable descent to earth, breaking the air with a hiss.
“Timber!”
The sound of the first impact was as nothing compared to the destructive force of the huge arm as it struck. Buildings exploded and cars were crushed flat under the massive weight. The noise would carry for miles, drawing a new wave of zombies to the area. Time was of the essence, so he carefully approached the gnarled frame. Following the noise of the escaping acetylene through the settling dust, he turned the nozzle off to make it safe.
Returning to the truck, he drove it around the carnage and backed it up against the generator. Grunting with effort, he hoisted the tow hitch onto the ball. Leaving the engine running to ensure the battery had a chance to recharge, he looked over the shattered fence. Any zombies not trapped in the apartment building staggered into view, drawn to the commotion. When he was sure the crushed homes held more interest to the dead, he dropped down and crawled between the abandoned cars. Sighted by the roof dwellers, he stifled a chuckle as they launched themselves from the rim. The melodic accompaniment of bodies disintegrating on concrete followed him down the empty road.
***
Backtracking towards the coach facility, Hombre made mental notes of every bottleneck or blockage which would require removal. The heavy machine would be able to crash through most with ease and with the engine in the back, all he would need to be careful of was the front axle and tyres. The fallen crane had temporarily sated his appetite for destruction which went some way to ensuring he would not take silly risks on the return journey.
Reaching the school, the zombies who had been in close pursuit were excited to see him again. Moving between the cars, he funnelled them one by one into the blade of his axe. Zombies still thrashed and moaned from their metallic tombs as he passed. Looking back at the scene, it was clear the twist of crashed vehicles might be too much for the battering ram to push through. Approaching one of the twisted wrecks, the bloated, festering creatures strained at their harnesses.
“Hello, ladies.”
Opening a switchblade, he lunged in and severed the polyester belt. Now unrestrained, the zombie toppled from the open door and Hombre stamped down hard, driving the face into the tarmac with a wet crack. Unable to get to the passenger door, he leaned in and stabbed at the buckle release with the point of his axe. After four attempts, he avoided the flailing arms and the red button clicked, sending the slime coated material back into the retractor. Flopping across the seats, the woman tried to g
rab at him. He waited, watching closely as she struggled to reach him. The gear stick pierced her decaying belly, tearing it open and sending rancid intestines and organs spilling into the foot wells. Unfazed, he hacked at the head, chunks of skull and brain joining the rest of the vile accumulation by the pedals. After cleaning his blade, he lifted the zombie from the impaling stick and dragged her through the open door. Tearing the denim skirt from the dead woman, he leaned in and used it to put the car in neutral before releasing the handbrake.
“Here goes nothing,” he whispered, checking the coast was clear.
Bouncing on the hood, he tried to use the suspension to rock the chassis clear of the car it had driven into. The twisted carcass of each vehicle screeched and clunked, but held fast.
“Fuck it!”
The only other option was to bust through the school fence at the south end of the staff carpark and then circle around the building via the playing field. It was then only a thick hedgerow between him and the largely unclogged road to the construction site. Either end could result in a damaged tyre or debris working its way into the brake mechanisms or hydraulics. With any luck, the damage would be minimal and worth it to clear a path for the smaller truck and trailer which would be coming back. Realising he had no choice in the matter anyway, he left the mass of scrap metal behind.
The massive sign above the entrance read Arun Travel. Rows of coaches lined the yard, some were still fairly clean despite the apocalypse. Wherever they had been destined to go on that fateful day was now certainly infested with the dead. The uncollected passengers already at the end of the journey called life. Others were parked near the massive service bays at the rear of the complex awaiting repairs or maintenance. Staying low to the surrounding foliage, he performed a quick examination around the edge of the property. Dozens of zombies could be seen shuffling between the huge carriages and more were moving around inside the shadowy repair bays.