“Oh, come on!” he shouted.
The Noel looked at him with crazed eyes and ripped his foot out of the guttering without a grunt of pain. He picked up Ruan’s fallen sword and raised it. Geldof chucked the gun at him. It sailed over his head. As the Noel stepped toward him, Geldof raised his arms in a hopeless attempt to ward off the coming blow, sure that his prediction of dying a horrible death was about to come true. The blow never came. Ruan, who’d regained her feet, stepped up to the Noel and put her pistol to the side of his head. One shot rang out and the Noel went down.
Ruan lowered the gun, her face expressionless, and faced Geldof. “Are you okay?”
“I was supposed to be saving you,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Geldof stepped toward her, but she held up a blood-slicked hand. “No. The virus.”
He stopped. In the heat of the moment he’d forgotten about the infection risk. Now that his fight—if his actions could be dignified with that term—was over, Geldof became aware the sound of gunfire had died away. He turned to see that the remnants of the Noels, no more than ten, had come toe-to-toe with Fanny’s troops. They were taking a pummelling. At the center of the battle Nayapal whirled and twisted, a look of such calm on his face he could have been stroking a kitten. One of the Noels swung a metal pipe at his face. Nayapal dropped, his back arching and hands bending backward to touch the ground. The bar passed over his body and he brought himself up into a handstand, flipped back up to his feet, and drove his heeled hand into the nose of his attacker. Scott had left Eva to join the fray and was whirling his staff around his head, cracking skulls. Tom had brought his hands together into prayer position and, as a Noel charged, stepped forward into a wide-legged stance and drove his index fingers up the nostrils of his opponent with deadly accuracy. It was over within minutes. The members of the commune stood in the middle of the bodies of their vanquished foes, some twitching and moaning, most of them still.
“Now that,” Scholzy said, with genuine admiration in his voice, “was fucking awesome.”
* * *
When the bodies were piled off to one side for burning and the surviving Noels—including Rory—were trussed and locked in the spare hangar, they gathered around the table, upon which incense sticks had been placed to mask the stench that would soon follow. Ruan had cleaned herself up. This time she was the one to take Geldof’s hand.
“How do you feel?” she said.
“Hmm. Let me think. Ineffectual. Inept. Hopeless. Feeble. Inadequate. I think that about covers it.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You did save my life.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I’m assuming you deliberately shot the gutter down.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. I literally couldn’t hit a cow’s arse at twenty paces, but I managed to shoot a bolt at the same distance. But you were amazing. You didn’t hesitate.”
“You can’t allow yourself to hesitate when somebody’s trying to kill you.”
“But how do you do it? I mean…”
Geldof trailed off. He’d seen so much violence in his short life; his muted reaction to a bloody massacre that a year ago would have left him traumatized told him he was growing far too used to it. Thanks to his crapness in battle he’d yet to take a life, which somehow provided a layer of insulation that made it easier to bear. And while the impersonal distance provided by a gun meant he may have been able to shoot somebody, he knew that driving cold steel through a human body would always be beyond him.
“How did I kill so easily?”
“Yes.”
“Mental discipline again. I visualized them as sheep. Big, woolly sheep with sharp teeth. I’m pretty good at that kind of thing.”
“Why sheep?”
“When I was eight a sheep bit me in a petting zoo. It gave me the Orf virus and a swollen, seeping thumb. My brother Bryan called me Thumbelina and the bloody name stuck. After that I couldn’t even watch a cartoon sheep without wanting to kick the screen in.”
“And after they’re dead? Do you still see them as sheep?”
Ruan blinked several times. “I don’t look at them after. Anyway, I did hesitate. I didn’t kill Rory.”
“Why not?”
“I couldn’t see a sheep, just a hurt little boy. It’s my fault he went off the rails. I laughed when he came on to me.”
Ruan looked so distraught that Geldof wanted to wrap her in his arms. Nobody their age should have to endure so much. Before he could act, a roar of pain and a jumble of swearwords came from the house where James was tending to Mick’s wounds. Everybody looked over, grimacing as one. They’d been lucky in terms of casualties. Only Hannah, who’d been guarding the entrance when the Noels rode in, had died. Eva and Mick would both live.
Fanny, who’d been visiting with Eva, came striding over. “Right. If we don’t stop that missile, this insanity is going to play out in every town, village, and city across the globe.”
Geldof looked at the pile of bodies and tried to extrapolate. There was no way he could come up with an equation to work out what percentage of the world population would die in the event of the missile going out. There were too many variables, but it would easily reach hundreds of millions. That many bodies in one tangled heap of flopping limbs would dwarf Mount Everest. He shivered and slapped the images of the base down on the table. “We’ve got these for starters.”
Scholzy spread the documents across the table. “How recent are these?”
“No idea. Could be a couple of months old.”
Scholzy jabbed his finger at one long pier, where a submarine was docked. “The best way to do it would be to swim down the loch and plant magnetic charges on the underside of the sub, presuming it’s in one of those berths and not a dry dock. Problem is, we didn’t come prepared for an underwater mission and they’re bound to have boats patrolling. In the water with no way of submerging we’d have no chance. A full-frontal assault is out, too. That was just a skirmish with a bunch of untrained idiots. That base will be full of well-trained soldiers. We’d have to fight across hundreds of meters to reach the submarine. We don’t have the personnel or weaponry.”
“So we should just give up?” Lesley said.
“I didn’t say that. We need to find another way.”
Peter said something then, although it was impossible to make it out through his chunky air filter.
“For God’s sake, just take the bloody mask off, heh?” Scholzy snapped. “If Mick can get it on with one of these people and be fine I’m pretty sure you can breathe a bit of unfiltered air.”
“Did he tell you?” Fanny said.
“No,” Scholzy replied. “He’s a gentleman that way. Let’s just say you were both rather loud. Impressive stamina, by the way.”
Fanny blushed as Scott gave her a sly little nudge. By this point, Peter had unstrapped his mask. It was strange to see him without it. His features looked pink and naked, in much the same way as the freshly shaved face of a lifelong beard wearer. “That interlude gave me an idea. It’s a bit wacky, but I think it’s our only shot.” He paused, as though unsure whether to continue.
“Spit it out,” Scholzy said. “It’s not like we’ve got any other bright ideas.”
“Do you remember that time in Somalia, when Kenya’s military accused the insurgents of planning to use donkey bombs?”
“I remember. I also remember the terrorists quite rightly took the piss out of them for coming up with such an idiotic accusation.”
“Maybe they were too quick to dismiss it. It would’ve carried the element of surprise. Who’s going to run away from a donkey?”
“So you want to storm the base with suicide donkeys?”
“No,” Peter said. He pointed to the steaming ginger corpses of the cattle. “I’ve had some bovine inspiration. We use cows.”
ONE DAY TO EXCISION
29
This, Ruan thought as she prepared to open the gate that led into the field of cows behind Ar
rochar, may well be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
They’d ridden into Arrochar in the old truck, authorized for use since if this didn’t qualify as an emergency nothing would. There must have been women and children left in the village, since the Noel invasion was exclusively male—unless there’d been bearded ladies in there as well—but they didn’t show their faces. The truck had undergone some modifications: a hatch just big enough for one person to scoot through had been cut between the storage space and the cabin. The truck now sat idling at the bottom of the path leading to the main road in the village. A ramp led up into the back.
The plan was simple. She was to serve as bait to lure the cows down from the field and into the back of the van. Once in, she would jump through the hatch and Scott and Tom would slam the rear doors shut, capturing the herd for use in their upcoming assault. It was the quickest way to round up the cattle. They couldn’t afford to waste a whole day of infected members of the commune chasing them around the field and trying to herd them toward the truck. They had preparations to make. Ruan had been chosen as the bait by virtue of a foot race with Geldof and the mercenaries—a battle she won with five meters to spare over the bulky Scholzy. Even though Geldof trailed in last, he still tried to convince her to hand the responsibility over to him. She knew he was still smarting from his ineffectual role in the battle, which had only confirmed his fears that he would be useless in the final assault. While she felt sorry for him, she’d refused to step down. He wouldn’t make it ten paces.
She also knew that Fanny was working up to denying Geldof an active role in storming the base, largely because Ruan herself had suggested his participation would result in him at best being a burden and at worst getting killed—a thought that curdled her stomach. The way she understood it, the old Fanny would have had no problem in delivering this message. The new Fanny was agonizing over how to reconcile her decision to give her son freedom of choice with the fact that this freedom could lead to his death. Still, that was for Fanny and Geldof to worry about. Right now she had her own large and meaty concerns, which were grazing at the far end of the field. Unfortunately, she was upwind from the cows, which meant she would need to get dangerously close to give them a whiff of her scent and set them on the hoof. She started off by jumping up and down and shouting, hoping they would be able to detect her purity by sight alone. The cows merely glanced in her direction and went back to chewing at the grass.
They’re just like bloody men, she thought. The ones you actually want to chase you aren’t interested, and the ones you don’t won’t leave you alone.
“Try insulting them,” Scott called from beside the truck.
“How d’you insult a cow?”
“Tell them they’ve got saggy udders,” Tom replied.
“No, tell them the grass isn’t greener on the other side,” Scott said.
Tom screwed up his face. “That’s not an insult.”
“No, but it’s an unsettling thought. It might make them lose hope.”
“I told you not to have that third joint,” Tom said. “We need to get them angry, not depressed. They won’t chase her if they’ve lost hope.”
“Maybe they’ll want to take their frustration out on somebody.”
“They don’t speak English, so how could I insult them?” Ruan said.
“That’s what you think,” Scott said. “This cow whisperer bloke I used to know organized a stand-up gig in a field for the cows. Got a comedian to tell them jokes. He swears they all laughed.”
“What’s a cow laugh sound like, then?” Tom said.
“I wasn’t there, so I can’t rightly say. A bit evil, I imagine, like: Moo-ha-ha!”
They both laughed until Ruan glared at them. “You do know I’m about to risk my life, don’t you? You could at least try to be solemn or tense or something.”
“Sorry,” the two men said in unison.
Ruan shook her head. These were the people who were supposed to be saving the world tomorrow. She would need to ask Fanny to ration the dope supply. She trudged up the hill, noting points where hillocks, potholes, and piles of dung might trip her up on the way back. She was now worryingly close to the cows and still they hadn’t clicked. At this rate she would have to go right up to them and stick her armpit in their noses. Then she had an idea. Fear sweat slicked her armpits, producing dark rings on the gray fabric of her jumper. She pulled it off, along with her T-shirt. Goose flesh rose on her bare skin. She picked up a rock, wrapped the garments around it to give them some weight and chucked them at the animals. The clothes bounced off the flank of the largest cow and came to rest amid their snuffling snouts. They abandoned their chewing with angry snorts and began banging heads as they all tried to get their teeth into the bundle. Two animals got a hold of it and engaged in a tug of war, which ended when it ripped in two. Still they ignored her.
“Sod it,” Ruan said under her breath and sprinted the rest of the distance.
She booted the closest cow up the arse and, before it had even swung its head around, bombed back toward the truck. There was no need to look back to know their tiny brains had finally got the message that there was something tastier than grass and cud in the vicinity. The collective moo swelled and dipped as the out-of-sync individual voices came together and broke apart. It sounded like the kind of noise an emergency vehicle would make in a world run by cows. She focused on this thought, transforming the beat of hooves into the chug of an engine, and imagined an ambulance, flashing blue horns protruding from its roof, rushing a cow with an udder blockage to hospital. That turned out to be a bad idea, for the image was so daft she momentarily forgot the mortal danger she was in. Her adrenaline levels dipped and so did her pace. Only when she felt the wet slop of a snout on her back did she snap out of it and accelerate.
She leapt up the ramp and dashed through the truck. She’d spent hours the previous evening practicing diving through the hatch, resulting in bruised forearms and shins and a black eye from the one time she nailed it and sailed through to thump her head on the dashboard. This time she managed to force most of her body through before her feet caught on the opening. The truck shuddered as the cows mounted. Something snagged her trouser leg and started to pull. Scholzy, who was in the driver’s seat, grabbed her hand. The rear doors slammed, which meant the cows were now trapped—just as she would be if the cow managed to haul her back in. Scholzy’s grip was slipping on her sweaty hand, and she felt herself sliding backward. Just as she was sure she was about to disappear into the back to be trampled to death, cloth ripped and she shot forward.
A massive cow head rammed through the hatch, eyes rolling and tongue lolling. Scholzy punched it square between the eyes. The cow didn’t budge, snapping left and right. Fortunately its neck and shoulders were too wide to allow it to push its way through farther. It looked like a necromancer truck driver had mounted a head on the wall of his truck and brought it to life.
“That’ll have to do,” Scholzy said.
He rolled down the window to talk to Scott, who was peering in. “You guys are going to have to walk. We’ve got an uninvited guest in the cabin.”
Scott nodded and Scholzy put the truck into gear. “Let’s get this lot back to the camp and then come out for the second run.”
His voice prompted an ear-splitting moo and increased snapping from their trophy head.
“Second run?” Ruan shouted over the din.
“We’re going to need more cows than this,” he said. “There must be some in the other fields around here.”
“Fantastic,” Ruan said. “Another chance to have a cow chew on my backside.”
They moved off, the truck swaying as the enraged animals blundered around in the back, fighting to reach the source of the enticing smell. Ruan shrank as far as she could against the passenger door and just hoped the truck wouldn’t topple.
* * *
Geldof moped around the camp, playing hide-and-seek with Fanny. He could tell from the way she kept chewing
her lip and shooting him sidelong glances all morning that she wanted to tell him something. He had a good idea what it was. To be honest, after his performance during the attack of the Noels, he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t even qualified as bait, which was usually the role set aside for those who couldn’t do anything else. Even a blind, wriggling earthworm was useful enough to be jammed on to a hook and plunged into the water to draw in the fish. The same worms would probably be more use than him at Faslane. They could at least dig a tunnel under the fence or something. His mum finally cornered him after Scholzy and Ruan returned with the cows, which were shuttled into the livestock pen by the commune members, growing quieter as soon as the uninfected were out of nostril range.
“I know,” he said before she could even open her mouth. “You don’t want me to fight. You’re right. I’d just get in the way.”
Fanny looked relieved. “Some people just aren’t fighters, Geldof.”
“Some people just aren’t anything.”
“You’re being hard on yourself.”
“Am I? What have I done that’s any worth since I got here?”
“You came here for me even though you knew it was dangerous. You brought the mercenaries. We wouldn’t have any chance without them. And the way Ruan tells it, you saved her life.”
“Yeah, right. I flukily shot a pipe and nearly got stabbed in the face. She saved me.”
World War Moo: An Apocalypse Cow Novel Page 26