“Carrying a fire axe?” the officer snorted.
They spoke in Russian between themselves, obviously discussing what to do with me. The guy on my left pointed to the firearm tucked inside a holster by his hip. His action told me they were considering my immediate execution. I glanced down at the axe in front of my feet and decided if they ushered me away, I’d go for the axe and try my luck at cutting them down before they could draw their firearms.
Another big Russian Army Officer breezed along the corridor behind the two in front of me. Maybe this guy was going to be the executioner. He strolled along with his head bent forward, his peaked cap covering his face.
The two army officers turned and acknowledged the new guy’s presence. They muttered something to him and nodded arrogantly at me. Three guys I’d have to take out with the axe. And all of them highly trained Russian military. My heart fluttered and I felt my stomach rolling over like a washing machine. I took a quick glance at the axe handle at my feet, hoping those Russian guys wouldn’t notice. Better to go out swinging than be marched out onto the upper deck and take a bullet in the back of the head, then dumped overboard into the drink. My odds weren’t good but I was still going to go for it. Would did I stand to lose?
Chapter Forty-Eight
The third Russian officer strolled towards us. I guessed the other two were waiting for him to catch up and listen to his input. This new guy was definitely going to be a difficult opponent to fell, even if I managed to hack down the first two rivals. He tilted the peak of his cap back away from his face and I recognized the steely gray eyes. I nearly burst into tears with emotion.
“Go for the axe, kid,” the big guy muttered.
The two army officers turned, startled by the big guy’s Brooklyn accent. One of them moved his hand towards the holster, housing his firearm at his hip. I scooped up the axe and took a huge swing, aiming the blunt edge at the back of the guy’s head, who stood to my left. The blow made a dull thudding noise and sent him crashing forward, face first onto the vinyl floor tiles.
The standing army officer drew the handgun from his holster and turned towards me with an expression of shock on his face. It was as though he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just witnessed. The approaching big guy delivered a hard chopping blow the army officer’s wrist. The firearm clattered to the floor and the guy yelped in pain. The big guy grabbed the army officer around the throat and slammed him against the corridor wall. The army officer stuck out his tongue and made a strange croaking noise before his eyes turned upward in their sockets and he went limp under the big guy’s grip.
I moved towards the prone officer I’d smashed over the head, just to check if he was still alive. Blood trickled through the guy’s short hair and I noticed a big cut in the back of his scalp. His eyes were shut but he was breathing heavily.
The big guy released his grip on the army officer’s throat and let him slide down the wall into a sitting position, with his head lolling to the side.
“You were the last person I expected to see,” I said, with a hint of excitement. “How the hell did you get onboard this ship and how come you’re dressed in Russian military uniform, Smith?”
“I bet you got a whole lot of questions for me, kid but we better get these two guys out of sight before anybody sees us,” Smith said, scooping up the discarded handgun from the floor.
“Is that guy you choked, dead?” I asked.
“Nah, he’s just taking a nap,” Smith sniffed. “If I’d wanted to kill him, I’d have broken his fucking neck.”
“This one is out cold as well,” I said, pointing to the officer at my feet. “I hope I didn’t crack his skull.”
“Casualties of war I’m afraid, kid,” Smith grunted as he lifted the unconscious army officer. “I saw an empty office back up the corridor. Let’s get these guys hidden away in there and we’ll hopefully be long gone by the time they wake up with one motherfucker of a headache.”
I nodded, tucked the axe under my arm and grabbed the unconscious Russian by his ankle. We dragged the two bodies up the corridor to the empty office. Smith plunked his guy down in an office chair and I pulled mine beside a desk against the far wall. From the positions we left them, nobody could see them from the office doorway. Smith closed the door as we left the small room.
I didn’t like the fact that a thin blood trail smeared across the floor, leading the way to the two unconscious guys in the office. The blood had obviously come from the Russian I’d hit over the head. I wondered if I had seriously wounded the guy and maybe even caused some kind of brain damage. I felt bad for him but desperate times called for extreme actions. It was either knock the guy out or allow myself to be recaptured and probably executed.
“Uh-oh,” Smith muttered, as he too noticed the blood smears. “Time for a quick clean up job.”
Smith opened the office door and took a pair of dark blue coveralls from a hook beside the doorframe. He tossed the coveralls onto the floor and used them to wipe up the blood smears, brushing the garment over the vinyl tiles with his foot. I kept glancing up and down the corridor with the feeling we were going to be discovered at any moment.
When Smith had completed his mopping up job, he picked up the blood stained coveralls and tossed them back into the office. He closed the door and gave me a brief nod.
“Okay, let’s get going,” he rumbled.
“Where are we heading?” I asked.
“We’re getting off this god damn ship,” he snarled, leading the way along the corridor.
“Have you seen it out there?” I asked, jabbing a thumb to the wall on the right side of us. “It’s a total train wreck or make that a ship wreck and I don’t even know where the hell we are.”
“We’re heading into Belfast,” Smith nonchalantly said.
“Belfast? As in Belfast, Ireland?” I spluttered.
“Northern Ireland to be exact,” Smith corrected me.
“What the flying heck are we doing in Belfast?” I was virtually running to keep pace with Smith’s long strides. “And how do you know that’s where we are?”
Smith sighed as he strolled forward. “When I made a break for it, I headed over the wire fence and I had all intentions of scooting away into the wilderness. But then I figured I’d head for one of the ships instead. I wanted to check out for myself what these guys were up to. The swim was tough and damn cold, I climbed up the anchor chain and got onboard without anybody noticing. I found an empty cabin, dried off and took the guy’s uniform hanging up inside there.” He pointed the way through a crossway in the corridor.
“I walked around the ship unchallenged, so I kept an eye on where you guys were being taken to. I figured it wouldn’t be long before you made a break for it and tried to do something desperate.”
“You were following me?” I gasped.
Smith shrugged. “Kind of. I thought I’d let you run around on your own awhile before I made myself known.”
“Were you really going to leave us?” I sighed.
“I couldn’t take being incarcerated in Russia, kid. I couldn’t take being locked up anyplace. We go there and we’ll never get out, remember that.”
“Yeah, I did get your note,” I said. “Anyhow, man. Tell me about Belfast.”
“Keep quiet,” Smith snapped and grabbed me by the shoulder. He steered me in front of him, took the fire axe from under my arm and lowered his face. I scowled in pain as his meaty fingers dug into my collar bone.
Two Russian sailors rushed along the corridor towards us, babbling at each other with anxious expressions on their faces. I worried they’d stop us and ask where we were going. Our cover would be blown and we’d have to fight our way out of another sticky situation. They didn’t even slow their pace. They kept rushing along the corridor, brushing by us and continued heading in the opposite direction. Smith glanced around behind him when the two sailors disappeared into the distance. He kept hold of the fire axe and I thought it was a wise move in our circumstances.
/> “I got kind of into the whole snooping around thing,” Smith continued. “I started to enjoy it. Wearing a Russian Army uniform, walking around incognito, the whole James Bond thing.” He emitted a short, self satisfied laugh. “Anyhow, I took a look on the ship’s bridge and saw a map of Northern Ireland, with Belfast circled over and over in pencil. I got the gist that one of their other ships went there on another looting operation and got into all kinds of trouble.”
“I saw another warship moored out there at the dockside,” I said.
“Exactly,” Smith snorted. “They came here to help out their buddies but my guess is they’ve got some shit hot equipment onboard that other ship and they don’t want to give it up.”
“I don’t want to put a downer on things, Smith,” I sighed. “But how the hell are we going to get off this ship, with the mother of all battles going on out there?”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“The logistics of that maneuver may be a little tricky,” Smith groaned. “But don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” I sighed.
The ship lurched sideways and I heard an incredibly loud scraping noise. Smith and I reeled into the corridor wall. Somebody bellowed commands through the public address system in a frantic and distorted tone.
“What is going on?” I rasped, staggering away from the wall.
“Sounds like we just hit the side of the jetty. Whoever is driving the ship needs his ass kicked,” Smith said. “Well, by my reckoning, we’re alongside the dock now, kid. We better get the others and try and get off this crate somehow.”
“There are around one hundred of us, Smith,” I protested. “We have no weapons apart from that handgun you’ve got and that damn fire axe. We’re up against half the Russian Army and the whole zombie population of Belfast out there.”
“We sure as shit can’t stay here,” Smith growled. “Come on, let’s get the others.”
Smith seemed to know where he was going and I was surprised how quickly he’d found his bearings around the ship. He’d obviously seen where our quarters were located, from watching in the shadows and made a note of where to find us. I followed him along the corridors and down the walkways until we came to the refugee’s mess. Still nobody guarded the doorways. I guessed they were all too busy with trying to dock the ship and the threat from the undead on the jetty.
“You go on inside there and tell them we’re leaving,” Smith said, nodding at the closed doors.
I was about to open the door to my compartment but stopped with my hand resting on the door handle. I sighed and turned back to face Smith. “We ‘aint going to be able to smuggle one hundred people off the ship without the Russians noticing, Smith. They’ll either be mowed down by the machine gunners or ripped apart by zombies. There are kids and old people amongst them.”
Smith shrugged. “They have the choice. They can stay put right here if they want.”
“Whatever, man,” I muttered. “I’ll try and persuade enough able bodies to come with us. With a shit load of luck, we may make it out of here.” I pushed the door open and entered the room.
Most of the refugees were standing in a nervous, wide-eyed huddle in the center of the room. They gazed at me expectantly from between the rows of bunk beds, waiting for news on what was happening outside the ship.
“Any idea on what is going on?” the old woman, who’d been on cruise ships asked.
“We’re docking in Belfast,” I said. “There’s another Russian ship alongside. It’s getting overrun by the undead and I think we’re here to try and help them.”
I noticed Batfish, Wingate, Chandra and Spot move out from the bunks.
“Brett, we were worried about you,” Batfish screeched. “You’ve been gone for ages.”
“I ran into somebody who wants to help us get away,” I explained. “He’s standing right outside in the corridor.” I pointed to the door. “He’s going to try and lead us off the ship and escape from the Russians.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, my dear,” the old Scottish lady said. “I heard the sounds of gunfire. It’s probably dangerous out there.”
“Well, I’m not saying it’s going to be a stroll in the park but everybody is welcome to tag along,” I said.
The room was filled with the sound of mutterings. People talked amongst themselves, obviously discussing whether it was worth trying to make a run for freedom or stay where they were and take their chances with the Russians.
“We’re moving out immediately, so those of you who are coming better get ready to go,” I explained. “I’m going into the other two mess decks and letting the other people know what we’re intending to do.”
Batfish held Spot on a short leash. She, Wingate and Chandra approached me with anxious expressions on their faces.
Wingate shook her head before she spoke. “What is all this, Brett? What’s going on? Why do you want to run all of a sudden?”
“There’s somebody outside that door who I think you should go and meet,” I said, holding back a smile that would give away who the mystery guy was.
“Brett, I’m not sure about all this,” she whispered. “You seem to be acting weird since you got back. What did you see out there?”
“Just go out into the corridor,” I said, turned and headed for the door.
I knew Wingate and Batfish were following reluctantly. Would Wingate fly into a rage and slap Smith when she saw him?
I nodded to Smith who stood in the corridor. I walked by him towards the two other refugees mess rooms.
“Oh, my god,” Wingate and Batfish gasped in unison, as they recognized the figure behind me.
I entered each mess in turn and told them of our intentions. The same uneasy rumblings were heard in each room and I headed back out into the corridor.
Smith had his arm wrapped around Wingate’s shoulders and they both looked happy. He handed me the fire axe and tipped me a wink. Around half the number of refugees crowded into the corridor and I guessed the others had decided to stay where they were. I noticed Ally McGregor and his daughter, standing stern faced and ready to join us. We could all be killed or beaten back below the ship’s decks. The next few minutes would decide our fate.
“Everybody ready?” Smith called out in a kind of rallying cry.
Smith received a raucous reply from some and a muted, half hearted response from others. I had no clue where we were going to run to or if we could possibly escape. My mother heralded from the south of the country and I had visited the Republic of Ireland a few times myself but I had no knowledge of Belfast or Northern Ireland. I just hoped Smith was right and we were doing the correct thing in cutting our ties with the Russians.
Chapter Fifty
Smith led the way through the corridors and back up the walkways. It was going to be almost impossible for us all to reach the upper deck without some Russian spotting us and raising the alarm.
The guy still yelled orders into the public address system, his tone becoming more frenzied with every sentence.
A barrel chested guy, dressed in blue coveralls emerged from a hatch on the deck slightly in front of us. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout out something. Smith delivered a right handed punch, which caught the guy squarely on the jaw and sent him crashing backwards into the wall. His head clumped against the white vinyl panel and he slumped unconscious to the floor. Smith closed up the open hatch and applied the locking bolts so nobody else could climb out from the deck below.
“We need to get outside as quick as possible,” Smith said quietly. “That way we stand more of a chance.”
“Okay, but we need to find a place to head for as soon as we can,” I whispered. “The big guns took out a whole bunch of the surrounding buildings and there are damn zombies all over the jetty.”
“Hopefully, the Russians will be preoccupied with trying to save their comrades to be too concerned about us,” Smith said.
We walke
d along the corridor until we came to another steel gray door, complete with a wheel operation. It wasn’t the same exit I’d used earlier but I guessed it led to the ship’s upper deck. Smith glanced at me then glanced at the door. I nodded.
“Let’s go for it,” I whispered.
We heard the chatter of gunfire and muffled screams and yells from outside the ship’s confines. Smith put his hand on the wheel lock then glanced around at the crowd of refugees huddled around us.
“Everybody stick together, don’t anybody stray off on your own,” he commanded. “We’ll try and get out of the dockyard and take our chances. We’ll head to a safe building once we’re clear of the docks. Anybody who doesn’t feel up to it can back out now. Once we get out there amongst the shit storm, there’s no turning back, got it?”
A mumbling of voices echoed around the corridor and a handful of refugees had second thoughts and backed away, looking slightly ashamed and muttering apologies. Smith waited for those who’d backed out to retreat a safe distance from the exit. He drew the handgun from his jacket and ensured it was loaded and made ready for firing.
Smith took one last glance around the anxious faces surrounding him and turned the wheel lock in the center of the door.
A waft of cordite blew through the doorway once Smith had pushed the hatch open. The noise of gunfire and yells and screams seemed almost overwhelming and I felt my heart hammering in my chest.
“Let’s move,” Smith shouted above the din.
He led the way out of the doorway into the mayhem. I followed him and my eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the bright sunlight outside. Batfish, Wingate and Chandra followed behind me, pursued by a string of the other refugees.
We crouched as we progressed forward. I saw we were located at the side of the ship, below the top decks and on the side of the jetty. The ship was positioned alongside the dock, slightly in front of the vessel that was overrun with undead. Whoever had steered the ship had managed to crunch the bows against the side of the concrete dockside. A large crease in the steel surface spread across the side of the forecastle. Several sailors had leapt over the side onto the jetty and struggled against the numbers of undead. They tried to battle the zombies back, to allow them enough time to secure the ship’s wire hawsers and thick ropes around the large bollards on the dockside.
The Left Series (Book 5): Left On The Run Page 22