Dead Ahead

by Park, Grant

  “There will be more of that if we make it out of here,” she said with a smile when they finally unlocked their lips.

  “With that kind of motivation, I’m sure I can do anything,” he said grinning ear to ear, “follow me!”

  _____________________________

  Jim took up his position on the rooftop of the huge black building sitting to the east of Thorp; it was in a prime position, taller than most of the other buildings around it and it had a good view down the road that Ethan and the others should be using on their approach.

  He didn’t fully agree with Ethan using the Argo to draw the attention of the Zombies away from them while they approached on foot, but Ethan had been pretty confident that they would be safer if they could drop all the creatures before they got to them; and it all worked fine, till that bloody tank came along. Where the hell did they get that thing? He had tried to pick off one of the gunners earlier, while Ethan and the others fled, but the bullet just bounced clean off; it must have some pretty heavy bullet proof glass on it cause it didn’t even leave a mark. It was a pretty smart move from Greg to bail out the back when he did; his overly dramatic tumble down the beach didn’t fool Jim, but it seemed to work on Michaels and the lads in the tank, they didn’t even bother to look for the body.

  So here he was, up in the heavens waiting for a target to appear; it wouldn’t be long now.

  He spotted Ethan first, running round the corner of the building furthest on his left, then Cassie and then Caleb; they stopped, but not for long. The corner blasted open behind them as they ran and just as they reached the other corner they separated. ‘There he goes again, trying to be a hero’ Jim thought to himself.

  Ethan made it to the next building just in time; he must have made it as the tank started firing at the first floor, ‘Smart lad, trying to get them to exit the tank are you? Maybe I will get a chance to even the odds a little here?’ it wasn’t to be.

  They flattened the whole building, in no more than five minutes it was down on top of him. Ethan didn’t have a chance. As the dust settled the rain began to ease off and the sun started to peek out from behind the clouds.

  The tank rolled up to and along the front of Jim’s position, circling Thorp; he had to move. He packed up and scrambled up and on to the roof next to him to give him a view down the other side.

  He dropped down and crawled on his belly up to the edge, gently he placed his eye to the scope and traced the route the tank had taken; there they were at the other end of Thorp pulling up to an army Land Rover – how the hell had he missed that? A soldier was stood outside waiting for them; it looked an awful lot like Sully.

  Jim waited with baited breath as the back of the Tank opened; it was parked askew, pointing to his right and towards him so that he couldn’t see into the back. The soldiers didn’t matter, not so much really; it was either Knox or Michaels he was waiting for, without Knox the soldiers would never follow Michaels, and without Michaels, Knox would lose his objective; the big lummox would be lost without being given orders all the time. Michaels would never step out of the tank though, not when they knew Jim was somewhere out here, so Knox it is. ‘But where is he?’

  “Shit!” Jim whispered to himself.

  “Looking for someone?” The low rumble of Knox’s voice came from behind him.

  He should never have taken that pot shot at the tank, he should never have taken up position on this rooftop, it was perfect, too perfect; it was bloody obvious. How could he have been such a fool? Another soldier emerged from the back of the tank and Jim trained the rifle on to him; it looked like White, he was a good man, and a good soldier; a better target than Sully. If Knox was going to shoot him then he may as well take out White in the process; one for one.

  “I can quite legally shoot you, you know? What you’re doing is treachery.”

  “What you’re doing is madness, Knox! The power plant has to fall.”

  “Oh, I agree. Michaels has other plans now.”

  “Can’t you see that Michaels is a madman?”

  “Ha!” Knox barked, “We’re all madmen here, Ford!”

  “We don’t have to do this,” Jim said still following White with the rifle, “We can sort something out; we just need to be rid of Michaels to do it.”

  “Treachery, Ford” Knox said warningly.

  “What is he without those stripes, harry? How is he on the battlefield?”

  Knox paused for a minute, “He ain’t worth much,” he said eventually.

  “So why follow him?” Jim said hoping that he was getting through to him.

  “Cause he’s got the stripes!”

  “And how did he get them? Did he get them from crawling through the dirt with bullets flying over his head, did he get them pulling men to safety, did he get them watching his friends die? Or did he get them because his daddy gave them to him, because he came from good stock? I think you know the answer!”

  “You could be right, Ford; you could be right. But fact is, I agree with him, I agree with what we are doing here. There are too many cocks and not enough chickens. So tell me where the women are and I will pluck your feathers quick.”

  “Is that what this is all about, the women?” Jim felt sick.

  “Eminem promised me that tasty little redhead; I got a real sore spot for redheads, Jim. We already have Miss Foster, so tell me, where’s the women, Jim?”

  There was no use in arguing, Knox had made up his mind and Jim would never tell him where Sarah was; they had reached an impasse, and something had to give. The rifle was silenced, maybe Jim could squeeze off a round before Knox noticed and spin around to tag him with one; Knox no doubt had a pistol trained on Jim’s head, he would have to be quick.

  He breathed out and aimed for White’s head, he wanted the kill to be clean; Jim actually quite liked White, he didn’t want him to suffer.

  The time was now.

  Jim gently squeezed the trigger and the rifle kicked in his hands; the whole world lurched with a climatic boom, ‘What the hell was that?’ he thought as the building shook violently beneath them throwing Knox off balance, but helping Jim to roll over to his left, dropping the rifle and pulling his browning from the holster at his chest to fire a round at him. Knox was already half way to the floor when Jim fired, but he was pretty sure that the bullet struck true. The question was where?

  Jim sat halfway up watching a good portion of Sellafield disappear into a hole in the ground behind where Knox lay; it must have been the main reactor. ‘Holy Zeus, they did it. Just in time too.’ he thought just before the bullet tore through his collar bone. Jim slapped back to the ground, landing uncomfortably on top of his rifle; a dark shadow approached him, the great looming mass that was Knox stood in front of the sun, blood soaking the chest of his camouflage jacket that didn’t seem to fit him quite right. Knox had been shot in the chest and he was still coming at him.

  Jim tried to lift the pistol but Knox simply kicked it from his hand like it was a child’s toy; he placed one of those size twelve’s on Jim’s chest.

  “Where’s the women, Ford? Or do I start plucking?”

  _________________________

  It was dark when he woke. How long had he been out? Dust filled his mouth as he drew in through ragged lungs. It wasn’t dark, it was pitch black. Ethan recalled it all, the explosions, the falling, the earth swallowing him whole; he cursed the world.

  He tried to move his arm, it felt like it was under him but it couldn’t be, when it moved something small fell onto his face and rolled down and off of his cheek. He pushed up and something heavy slid off to the side of him, not far, it stopped just beside him and hit something solid. Ethan reached out with his free arm and felt the dry concrete above him, more dust rained down on his face; he reached to his pocket where his torch was and flicked the switch, it flickered twice then gave out a solid steady beam through the dust.

  It was a just a hole in the ground, not much bigger than himself, it was a miracle that his body had fall
en into it; it was a terrible situation to be stuck in, but it had saved his life.

  Ethan tried to move his leg to reach the knife in his boot but a searing pain shot up his leg, he had to twist his body awkwardly to see the problem, which sent the pains shooting again; after craning his neck round he could see that his calf muscle had been pinched between two large lumps of debris, his leg was twisted to the side so the bone wasn’t damaged, least he hoped it wasn’t, and the upper slab of concrete hadn’t fallen completely to the ground but had stopped inches away from going clean down through his leg. The main problem, though, was that his boot knife was in the boot attached to his crushed leg, and it was the only means that Ethan could think of for freeing his leg.

  He let his head drop back down to the dirt in exhaustion with a loud crack, like someone knocking a coconut off of its stand at the fare; he took two deep breaths, he couldn’t take too many as he didn’t know how much air there was, and wrenched himself as far up and to the side as he could, gritting his teeth against the pain; the fingers of his left hand grazed gently against the hilt of the knife, almost enough to ease it out of the sheath, he wrenched further pressing his face hard against the dusty slab above him, his index and forefinger pinched the handle and slid off, ‘why had he bought the brass pommel knife? Damn him!’ he strained again, the pain in his leg was draining but he contorted himself harder and tenderly eased the knife further and further form the sheath till at last he had the blade in his hand.

  ‘That was the easy part!’ The blood was dripping down his leg soaking into his trousers from the wound in his calf; he shone the light down to assess the damage, using the knife he cut away the material of his trousers to get a better look, it didn’t seem too bad, the slab wasn’t pressing too hard against most of his flesh but there was a strange bulge to the back of his calf that didn’t look like it was because of the pressure upon it. Carefully he slid the blade of the knife between the slab and his leg, it slipped in easier than he expected but soon came to some resistance, he traced round it with the back edge of the blade so as not to blunt it; there was only a small area putting pressure on his leg, much to his pain he put more pressure on the muscle to try to see what it was, and just before the gush of blood blocked it out he snatched a glimpse of the inch thick rod of steel reinforcing that had been driven through his leg.

  “Ba-a-a-h!” he shouted at the rubble around him, his voice sounding flat and cold in the confined space. He looked to the blackening bulge at the side of his leg and then to the shining blade of the knife; he took the blade in his teeth and unbuckled his belt, pulling the fine Italian leather from around his waist and strapping it tightly just below his knee, the end was just long enough to grip with his teeth when he removed the blade, he would need something to bite into when he started cutting.

  The blade rested against his skin longer than he should have let it, he knew that he should just cut and be done with it, but still he hesitated; he had to fight his body’s natural desire for self preservation, he wrestled with himself, blade shaking in his hand. He had to free himself; if that wasn’t self preservation he didn’t know what was. He felt the blade slicing slowly through the already bruised and tender meat of his leg and howled into the thick leather strip; he cut neatly down the steel bar, one end to the other and felt the taught flesh peel away as his hand was covered in the wet stickiness of his own blood.

  The leg snapped away from the slab and steel as the last fibre of muscle was sliced through; he cut away the torn leg from his trousers and tied it tightly around the wound to stem the flow of blood and lay back. He was breathing heavily and was feeling feint, he had lost too much blood; he had never been good with losing blood, not his own anyway, giving blood or any bad gashes and he would start feeling dizzy, it wasn’t the best trait for a soldier, but you can’t fight natural instincts of the body. Luckily he was prepared; a Cadbury’s Caramel, if he remembered correctly, was in his top pocket; probably smooshed out of recognition, but it would give the desired sugar rush to clear his head. He devoured the sweet snack with relish, not caring for manners or decorum; there was still much to do.

  Ethan scanned the rubble around him with the torch, probing parts of it with the point of the knife trying to find an area that was safe to move without it all falling down on top of him. Slowly he made progress, moving one piece then another then kicking it down to his feet when a part was free, worming himself along though the dirt. He was actually feeling good about his chances for a while, till he reached a slab of solid concrete in front of him. He probed and poked around him trying to find something, anything that would move, but it was hopeless.

  He lay back, the torch flickered in his hand; he could feel that it had been crushed slightly during the fall. How long would it last? How long would he last? Ethan couldn’t decide which was the best way to die; should he just lie there until his oxygen ran out or maybe untie the rag around his leg and let himself bleed out? It shouldn’t take too long either way.

  He felt the rumble before he heard it, the whole pile of rubble vibrated beneath him raining dirt into his face. All thoughts of his mortality were thrown to the wind by the fear of a lump of concrete landing upon him; he didn’t want to die, not in this hole.

  Light, light through a crack above him. He couldn’t believe it; he had almost given up and he was so close to the surface that he could actually reach up and poke his fingers up into the light above. He started digging furiously above him, dragging the damp dust and rubble towards him and pulling himself up towards the light, pushing both hands out in front of him he reached for freedom.

  Something grabbed his hands and pulled, ‘Oh God no!’ he thought, picturing himself being dragged from the ground like a carrot and eaten alive by some filthy zombie; he tried to pull back.

  “Eh? Bah! What you doing you daft bastard?” a muffled voice came from above; it wasn’t a zombie. Cut and bloodied hands dived into the hole and pulled back at the edges making it much larger, large enough to fit through, Ethan reached out and gratefully allowed him to be dragged free.

  They both lay atop the wet rubble catching their breath.

  “I saw you jump, I saw you fall into the hole; got here quick as I could.”

  It wasn’t! Ethan looked over to the man that had saved his life. It bloody was! It was Greg, fuck sake; Ethan would never live this one down.

  “Cheers mate!” Ethan said between breaths, “Thought I would never get out of there.”

  “No probs. Is your leg ok? We better be moving.”

  “I will have a bit of a limp but I should be ok. Where are the others? Was that the reactor going...? What, what is it?” Greg was giving him a very strange look before saying.

  “Have you been eating chocolate?”

  Chapter

  26

  Fetid Flesh

  White’s head popped like a balloon, spraying Sully’s face with blood; he panicked and ran for the Land Rover, almost making a dive for the back but changed to under it instead, he crawled all the way under the shaking vehicle to the front where he planted himself against the front bumper and realised that it wasn’t just the truck that was shaking but the ground too.

  Shouts came from the other vehicle “Did anyone get the snipers position?”

  “Negative!”

  “Nothing here...!”

  “Check the thermals!”

  “Nothing on the scope, the whole place is lighting up, I can’t get a true reading!”

  “Right!” that was definitely Michaels’ voice, “Everyone back in the truck! Not you, Barnes....” Sully didn’t hear what Michaels said to Barnes but soon heard the pistons on the tailgate hiss closed leaving him out in the cold. “Sully,” Barnes said as he appeared round the side of the Land Rover, “Michaels wants you to go inside and locate Harper and his hostages, bring them out the front exit!”

  Sully froze, if he made a break for it the sniper could pick him off, if it was Ford then he definitely would. He could just see White’s
boots poking out from beyond the bonnet of the Land Rover where he fell, pristine and shiny like always; White had always kept his boots shiny, even after it all fell apart, Sully had never been able to get his to shine like that.

  “Now: soldier!” Barnes shouted.

  Sully ran for it, scuffed boots pounding down the tarmac road; he should really have parked closer to the building. He dived into the broken window and rolled across the tiny glass squares on the floor, not stopping till he was safely behind the desk; if Ford had shot and missed he would never know.

  Now; where the fuck is Harper? You would think that he would bring Cassie down to present to Michaels; Harper had always had a soft spot for Cassie though, maybe he was... No he couldn’t be. Sully was disgusted at the thought, he couldn’t imagine doing that to anyone; he hadn’t even went with the prossies when all the other lads were at it, ‘Fuckin’ filthy if you ask me,’ he thought ‘if Harper is at it then he is going to get a crack on the back of the head from me’. It was all talk, even to himself; he dreaded catching Harper at it because he didn’t really know what he would do.

  The place was like a maze. How was he supposed to find anything round here? He made his way up two flights of stairs and along a few corridors, until he stumbled across a sign that said ‘Control Centre’, blessing his luck he skipped round the corner and started climbing the set of stairs.

  Another pair of boots were pointed at him, definitely not White’s; these ones were well used, the tread worn right down on the inside heel of each boot from an uncommon step, they could only belong to Harper. Sully rushed up the remaining steps to check his pulse, but there was no need, Harper had a bullet hole right between his eyes and most of the back of his head was missing. Sully wrestled with whether or not to call the news in on the radio but was distracted by a repetitive beeping coming from the control room; he decided to venture further before calling it in.