by Ian D. Moore
Nathan glanced in the rear-view mirror for a split second and was sure the letters HMP had been written on the back of the shovel-wielding assailant, but the image wasn’t clear and faded fast as they put distance between themselves and the two attackers.
“Is everyone alright?” Nathan said, turning to look into the footwell at Tom and then left to Evie, who, although pretty shaken up, didn’t appear to be worse for wear.
“Prisoners, they were prisoners, I think. They probably didn’t want us. They’ll have been after the Jeep, but either way, I couldn’t let that happen. Without the Jeep, we would be sitting ducks out here,” he said.
“That was close, Nate, are you alright?” Evie said, eyeing up the shattered screen, “Can you see through that?”
“It’ll be alright, I can see just above it, and there shouldn’t be far to go now.”
He smiled reassuringly, and said a silent thank you to the higher power that had steered them away from danger.
***
The two convicts would not be so lucky. As the Jeep had slewed sideways onto the blacktop, the rear end had just missed a crouched deadhead in the ditch running along the roadside. As it scrambled out, five followed, crossing quickly to enter the field from where the Jeep had sprung and coming face to face with the shovel-wielding absconder. He had swung instantly, in a wide, head-height arc, sending the slightly pointed tip of the shovel slicing through the neck of the first deadhead, not quite deep enough to separate the head.
The fatally wounded, infected man staggered as his head fell backwards, the skin at the back of his neck now holding his head upside down between his shoulders as his legs began to buckle. The momentum of his strides carried him unsteadily forward, sending him stumbling into the shovel-wielding prisoner, knocking his balance enough to send them both crashing to the ground. The five other deadheads of the group pounced, biting and scratching, gouging at the man’s eyes as the screams, first of fear and then agony, rang out. Blood pooled at the ground of the fallen man. The deadheads ripped into his face, neck, hands, and arms, pulling the ex-con apart and scurrying off to chew on the torn, severed body parts.
The escapee’s accomplice tried in vain to rise on his shattered left knee, screaming at the pain before falling backwards. He could do nothing but sit and watch the horrific spectacle, as the deadheads tore his friend to pieces. In an attempt to get away, he began to drag himself forwards on his stomach, just seconds before he felt huge hands from behind. One had gripped the crown of his head, and the other circled under his chin. Seconds later, he felt the rapid twist sideways and upwards and heard the bones in his own neck shatter. Darkness fell around him, his eyes clouding to nothingness before the group began to devour him too.
***
Nathan slowed the car after a few miles and pulled into a small, privately owned roadside petrol station, cautiously scanning the area before cutting the engine next to a pump. The car didn't need fuel, but should a fast exit be needed, that was the safest place to leave it. He turned, looking over the seats.
"Anyone need a hug?" Nathan asked, in as cheery a tone as he could manage.
Holding his arms outstretched, young Tom stood from the rear floor space and clambered between the seats, gripping Nathan's neck and holding tightly. Evie smiled at Holly, who looked very frightened.
"C'mere you," she said, pulling the youngster into her arms and speaking softly to calm her.
"You've been a very brave young man." Nathan spoke to Tom gently, rubbing the boy's back with his palm, before ruffling his hair.
"That was scary! I think I need the toilet!" Tom said.
Tom looked at Holly, and seemingly with some mental connection that only they knew, Tom stood and they changed places. Tom gave Evie a hug and sat on her lap. Holly, now smiling, squeezed against Nathan's chest.
"And you've been a very brave little girl. I won't let anyone get you, Holly-Polly," Nathan whispered.
He kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He held her there for a few minutes, sure that she would have stayed there all day, but they had to keep going.
"Okay, let's find a toilet. Stay put for a minute while I go take a look around, and if you see anything, beep the horn. Can you pass me that, please, honey?" Nathan pointed to the rifle, addressing Evie.
Handing him the weapon, she looked at him, mouthing a “be careful” as he popped the driver’s door and gave her a wink to acknowledge the concern. As he scouted the outside, he found the rear toilet. He pushed against the paint-flaked wooden door with the barrel of the loaded rifle, checking the space for movement and needing to be content that it was safe, before turning to the shop entrance.
He thought about the two small children. Whoever their mother was, she'd done an amazing job at raising them. Since they hadn't mentioned a father, he assumed that for whatever reason, there wasn't one around. He hoped they would find their mother alive so that he could reunite them. Nathan made a personal promise: he would do whatever he could to see this happen.
The station was empty. Looters and opportunists had already taken the alcohol and cigarettes, but some bagged sweets, basic tinned food, crisps, and snacks remained. He filled a plastic bag full before returning to the car to give the thumbs up, passing the bag over to Evie.
"The toilets are around the back. Stay together, and please don't wander off, you two," he instructed, using the deeper masculine tone of his voice as a mark of authority.
Whilst Evie and the kids were away, Nathan checked the oil and water, just in case the high-speed cross-country dash had caused any damage. The Japanese-built car was strong; they were almost indestructible as far as cars went. Before alighting, he returned to the shop and placed a ten pound note on the counter, held down with a promotional box of key rings, for the items he had taken. It was still someone's livelihood. If they were still alive, when the dust finally settled, they would want to return.
Evie rummaged around in the bag, finding drinks and some sweets for the kids, as well as taking a couple of cans for herself and Nathan. Opening Nathan's for him, she placed it in the cup holder near the gearstick. With seat belts fastened once more, Nathan turned the engine over and pulled slowly off the forecourt, heading towards the main A1 on what should have been a short journey to the air base.
The track road had been clear of traffic, with only the odd detour around abandoned vehicles, and the Suzi handled it well. Approaching the junction above the A1, Nathan stopped, heart sinking, as he looked down upon the scene of carnage and destruction. Cars and trucks blocked all lanes; some were burning having caught fire after accidents. On each hard shoulder, wreckage blocked the way. Belongings and bodies littered the verges. It was impossible to tell if they were victims of the infected or had died by other means.
A little way down the northbound entry ramp, Nathan spotted a tipper wagon and wondered if the keys were still in it. He pulled up as close as he could, but there would still be a little walk. He turned to look at the children who were clearly already upset by the scene outside.
"I need you both to be real brave for me one more time. We need to change cars. Have you ever been in a big truck?" Nathan asked. They didn't want to leave the Jeep, that was certain.
Taking Evie's hand, he spoke calmly but firmly.
You can take the man from the military, but no matter how long past, you can never take the military from the man.
"We can't get past in this, love, and we'll struggle to get around. I'm thinking we should carry what we can between us and make a run for that truck over there. It's got big metal bumpers, used on building and landfill sites, so it’s heavy duty. It’ll be strong enough for us to punch our way through. It's only the next junction up to the base, couple miles, tops."
Nathan argued the case, meeting Evie's eyes, and waited for her thoughts. She considered the risks. The truck was maybe a hundred yards dash, with no chance to check every abandoned car, and it wasn’t easy to see through the trees if anything was there at
the roadside either. Uncertain as she was, Evie was going to go along with Nathan's plan.
"Okay, I'll piggy-back Holly and you carry Tom. We'll take the weapons and ammo, and the kids can carry a laptop each over their backs. The maps and papers we can fold and stuff down our T-shirts. We'll leave the supplies since we're close now, and it's the right move, I think–well, I'm not sure, but we need to do something. We can't stay here. Let's just hope the keys are in it and it starts."
***
Now, with the hastily thought out plan in place, they prepared to move, taking only the few items and weaving through the tangled mess of cars to the big tipper truck. With Evie covering with the Remington, Nathan pulled the truck door wide and breathed deeply when he saw it was empty and the keys still dangled in the ignition. Pushing Tom up into the cab, he took Holly from Evie's back before lifting her in too.
"Scooch over to the bunk bed, kids. If there are belts, please put them on." He then turned to help Evie climb the steps.
With a final sweep of the carnage around him, Nathan climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the keys in the ignition to illuminate the panel lights. He pushed both brake and clutch pedals; there was a loud Psssssshhht! in return that told him the air tanks for the brakes were okay.
He'd taken his HGV Class 1 with the Army many years ago, and although not currently licensed, he was sure the authorities had bigger things to worry about right now. He went through the gears from first through forth, clicking the lever switch to reach fifth through eighth and refreshing his memory. There were many types of truck gearboxes still in use. Nathan needed to go through the motions whilst stationary. Each child sat, cross-legged on the back bunk, leaning against the back of the cab, choosing from the array of sweets and goodies. It would distract them from the risky trip ahead, he thought.
"We're very high up, aren't we?" Holly said, and before anyone could answer, Tom spoke.
"It's ace, and, and, and, just wait 'til I tell mum we've been in a truck."
Evie thought before she spoke and then said quietly, "Hopefully your mum will already be at the base, but don't be too disappointed if she isn't there yet. Thousands of people will be coming and thousands will already be there. It might take a while to find her, but you'll have some fantastic stories to tell of your adventures. What's your mum's name, Holly?" she asked, realising that anyone going to the base would have to give a name to enter and there would surely be records.
"Mum's called Charlotte, of course!"
"Charlotte Lloyd. Her name is Charlotte Lloyd. Are we nearly there yet?" asked Tom, with a giggle.
Nathan turned the key fully in the ignition, and the truck groaned and coughed a little before the engine growled into life. Nathan pumped the clutch twice while pushing forward on the gearstick. He looked over his shoulder to Tom.
"We're not too far away, but it'll be a bumpy ride as we will have to push some cars out of the way to get through. It'll be alright; you just be sure you hold on tight."
With a wink to Evie, he let the air brakes off accompanied by a loud serpentine hiss and slowly the tipper ambled forwards. The power steering made the truck surprisingly agile for such a big vehicle; they had come a long way in home comfort since the Army’s Bedford MK many moons ago. Able to steer around and between some of the vehicles, he kept his eyes open for any signs of movement or life, trying to plan a route through the maze, and sometimes slowing to push aside abandoned cars.
Evie kept watchful eyes on the tree line and verges, occasionally cringing at the sound of metal on metal as the truck ploughed forwards. Although making slow progress, they continued to move forward. Holly pulled at Evie's sleeve, pointing off to her right.
"Eebie, look, look, bad people there, there!" she shouted, her voice rising an octave on the last word.
Following the little pointed finger, Evie saw the movement, counting three in all, coming up from the opposite side of the dual carriageway. They crossed between the now dead cars to the central metal barrier.
"Over there, Nate, to your front, outside lane now," she said, pointing herself.
"You two, get behind our seats, put your knees up, and push your feet into the seat backs. Be ready to cover your ears with your hands," Nathan said, already anticipating the need to use the shotgun.
***
Nathan stopped the truck, leaving enough room to accelerate if necessary. After leaning over to Evie, he grabbed the rifle barrel at her legs before pushing the button on the driver’s door to send the electric window whining in a downward motion. Halfway open, it was enough to provide a steady resting position, and he used the rifle’s scope for a better look at the three figures as they weaved side to side between the strewn cars.
The lead male was in a shirt and trousers and chose the route for those behind him. The second was a smaller male, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Nathan paused to check on the final figure behind, which was that of a woman. In her arms was a small baby, a few months old. Nathan looked again to be sure he had seen correctly. Sure enough, the lead man kept coming, followed by what must be his son, in turn followed by the mother carrying the child.
"Evie, we need to help them. They're normal, I think. Three, but the woman has a baby in her arms. Load up the shotgun, as I'll need you to cover me out front. You ready?"
Nathan picked the woman out with the scope, viewing over her head , and he spotted the reason for the blind dash towards them. Three rows of cars behind her, making ground, came two youths. The clearer image from the scope confirmed that they were infected. The fleeing lead male, thought to be the father, yelled at his son to keep running for the truck he'd seen moving. The father then turned to shield and protect his wife and child now that he had seen the truck stop.
This is where I'll make my stand. This is where I will fight to defend those I love and see them to safety.
Without a thought for the danger, Evie grabbed the shotgun, pocketing shells.
"Stay down, you two, don't move."
She swung her door wide, taking the first step and jumping the last two, to crouch in front of the truck before slamming the big door closed. Nathan closed the window before opening the driver’s door and jumping to the ground, pushing the door closed and moving for cover at the nearest abandoned car. Evie had shown great courage, and his feelings for her grew even stronger. Motioning for her to come to him, Nathan stood and shouted at the boy running towards them.
"Keep coming, son, don't stop, and don't look back. Get into the back of the truck and stay out of sight."
He called to the father to break to his right, to give him more space to aim at the pursuing duo. Seeing the rifle raised, the man pulled his wife and child over towards him, running as fast as they could; the footfalls of their pursuers closing in behind them. The deadheads split, one veering right to follow the fleeing adults. The other came straight at Nathan, choosing to climb over the cars rather than going around, leaping from one to the next and increasing in momentum. Nathan levelled the scope on the incoming youth.
He can't be more than twenty years old.
Two hundred yards out but bouncing up and over the stationary cars, hopping and jumping them as a hurdle runner would, the youth came in fast. Placing the crosshairs at the nose of the youth, he breathed in, out, and held his breath.
It's a rabbit, just a rabbit, only a rabbit.
Only one hundred yards between them now, he ran up, then down, then up over the next car. Ninety yards. He could see the deadhead’s eyes, narrowed so that only a thin sliver of black was visible. With hatred burning within, bared teeth and a grimace of rage, the lad thundered towards Nathan as the force of the impacts upon the bonnets popped the metal in and out. Nathan held the outward breath, flicked the safety, and fired, following the barrel as the rifle kicked into his shoulder.
He watched in zoom vision as the boy took the bullet to his upper thorax, sending him sprawling forwards over the roof of the car he had mounted. The range and small calibre of the bullet wasn’t
enough to kill him and too far to have passed clean through. Nathan watched, pulling the bolt to reload as the youth pushed himself up on all fours on top of the car, before bringing his knee down, intent on rising once more.
Bent over the bonnet, forming a bipod with his elbows, Nathan clicked the safety off. He brought the scope to bear one click above the centre of the lad’s eyebrows, with the crosshairs a fraction below the top of his head. The mil-dot scope marked out in his sights. He'd forgotten about subsonic bullet drop at longer range, but would compensate this time. Still at about eighty yards, the boy lifted his head and was about to rise as Nathan pulled back on the trigger. The bullet found its mark this time; a neat, round hole in the centre of the infected youth’s forehead sent him rolling backwards. The body fell between the cars in a tangle of arms and legs, coming to rest so that Nathan could see him face down and motionless. With rifle raised and loaded once more, he moved towards the body, intent on making sure he was dead. Before he could do that, he heard a shout from his left.
The running man, the father, had stopped to make a stand as the second deadhead bore down upon his wife and child. Nathan swung the rifle around, trying to get a shot, but the father had other plans for his attacker.
The father stopped next to a car, loaded with what looked like camping equipment, he pulled the straps free, sending most of it flying to the floor. A plastic seat had clattered down the back of the car, coming to rest a few feet in front of the man’s legs. He grabbed at a pile of tent poles that had been stowed in a long green bag. As the deadhead charged towards him, he stepped left, swinging the pole into the gaping mouth of the young man with a swoooosh sound, followed by a jaw-snapping, teeth-shattering thwack, the force of which clothes-lined the deadhead flat on his back. Spinning the pointed pole on its end, the father straddled the body and forced it through the throat of the stunned youth until he hit tarmac and he could push no further, letting it go and staggering backwards, physically sick at the very act he had just committed.