Hale’s radio crackled again.
‘Alpha One from Beta One. Multiple contacts, over.’
‘Alpha one confirmed, enemy contact. Report. Over.’
‘Infected are on the move, fast approaching. They’re runners. Slow movers further behind. Sir, they’ve got numbers. Over.’
‘Do you think we could take them all, Beta One? Over.’ Hale asked.
‘I can’t be certain sir. We’d burn through a lot of ammo. I’m not sure it’d be enough, over.’
‘They swept through here,’ I gestured at the checkpoint, ‘killed all your comrades and were moving right on down the road – probably chasing survivors. But we’ve been spotted, a bigger target, a bigger meal, and now the dead are being called back.’
‘You talk about them as if they’re smart,’ Bailey almost laughed, but there was a shaking to it, a nervousness that was beginning to show beneath the bravado. ‘It’s not like they can think, like they can follow orders.’
‘When one of them moans, it attracts the rest. What do you think that screaming was all about?’ I asked her.
‘We must deal with the most pressing problem,’ Hale cut in. ‘If we can’t fight them, then we must abandon the road. Beta One, how long would you estimate before the bulk of them arrive? Over.’
‘I’d call two minutes for the runners, they’re hauling ass sir, but the traffic’s slowing them down. Estimate five for the slow-movers, over.’
Hale looked up at the bridge, and he knew just as I did, that it connected to the woodland, going over the motorway fence that’d have us trapped in here with the dead.
We met eyes, and I offered some advice.
‘I don’t know how the runners are at climbing, but if we can make it onto the bridge, we’ll be safe at least from the bulk of that…that horde, coming our way.’
Hale nodded, resigned, and lifted his radio to speak. ‘Beta One. Hold position, we’re coming to you. Make sure that way onto the bridge is clear, and secure enough for everyone. Confirm orders, over.’
‘Confirmed Alpha One, Beta out.’
‘Nurse Cox, you and Dr Fielding run back to brief Mrs Lowe. Get the rest of them moving, double time. Everyone else, with me. Move, now!’
Twenty One
Instinct told me I should have been running in the opposite direction – our escape route was on top of those cabins, and I needed to get there before the infected did. But here I was, heading the wrong way.
I couldn’t just shout at Mrs Lowe. Firstly I’m not sure how she’d take being given orders from me, and secondly, screaming “RUN!” at a bunch of already tense people would probably send half of them going in the wrong direction.
‘Mrs Lowe!’ I started calling as I drew nearer, Claire half a step behind me. ‘Mrs Lowe!’
The severe looking woman turned around, rifle in hand, and cocked her head back in a gesture of acknowledgement. ‘What was all that racket about?’ she asked. ‘That screaming?’
‘A ghoul, calling in reinforcements.’ I explained. Briefly.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘A-what doing a-what now?’
‘There’s no time to explain,’ Claire stepped in, ‘there are infected on their way here and we need to be up on that bridge before they arrive. Captain Hale needs you to lead an orderly escape.’
Maybe it was the white coat vs. my leather jacket, the coat really helps with the older patients. Whatever it was, Claire seemed to get Mrs Lowe’s ear.
‘Alright ladies,’ she nodded, ‘but I’ll have those explanations later. I don’t like being kept in the dark.’
‘I’ll tell you everything when we’re off the road.’ I promised her.
‘Oi-oi! Listen up you lot!’ Mrs Lowe called out, turning back to the crowd behind her. Her voice carried across the deserted motorway and grabbed everyone’s attention, just like the ghoul’s screaming had caught that of the horde.
‘We’ve got a slice of nasty coming in and need to be out of here sharp! Civies, keep your gobs shut and your eyes open. Beauchief Park, rear guards on our arse and the rest of you up front. Come on lads, move it now, off we fuck!’
Well that was certainly a change from Captain Hale’s speeches. Either that was the difference between public and private sector, or simply a generational thing. Mrs Lowe, or rather, Colonel Lowe, had come up in the forces in a different time.
Her drinking buddies, the Beauchief Park Militia, must have already known their jobs, just like Hale’s active soldiers did. Lowe was setting a brisk marching pace towards the checkpoint, with the bulk of her dozen-strong unit jogging to catch up with the front, while the pre-arranged rear guards hung back. Soon, Claire and I were flanked by the best drilled pub quiz team in Greenfield.
‘Immediate facts, ladies.’ Lowe said, ‘Spare me the brief on your standard eaters, we’ve had a run in with them already. So what makes a ghoul different?’
‘They’re smarter – can play fully dead or pretend to be still alive. Don’t know what else yet. This one used to be a white guy. Still corpse pale though, and in woodland camo.’
‘Right.’ Lowe acknowledged, taking it in, her face a mask of concentration.
Captain Hale had set the close-quarters guns up just behind the orange and white barriers, where they had a good view down the lanes, and all those little funnels formed by the packed-in traffic. Being set up just behind the barriers meant the undead would have to climb their way over them first, not just reach across, grab, and bite. Smart.
As we came from under the bridge and in line with the cabins, I saw broken glass on the tarmac, and rifle barrels pointing from windows. It’d taken Hale sixty seconds to set up a defensive line. I briefly wondered if he’d had time to put some coffee on, my body reminding me that I hadn’t eaten or drank anything yet today.
The man himself stepped out of the end cabin and met us at the head of the crowd.
‘Captain, where do you want us?’ Lowe asked.
‘Get your people onto the bridge Mrs Lowe, I’ll need you to cover our retreat, and make sure there aren’t any surprises waiting up top.’
She took one look up at the bridge above us, and nodded. ‘Done. You following as soon as we’re set?’
‘I don’t mean to hold this ground – the enemy can’t follow where we’re going. We’ll be right behind you. Fielding, Cox,’ Hale said, turning his attention to us, ‘make sure the civilians don’t go up before the militia. The enemy might be up there, and if they’re not, we need those guns up there or we can’t pull back.’
‘I understand.’ I said.
‘Capital. Now, let’s get to work.’ He said with a wry smile. He’d had to abandon the hospital, now he was abandoning the road. But from the set of his shoulders he’d be making more of a fight of it this time.
‘Beauchief, all teams, get up those stairs!’ Mrs Lowe ordered, ‘There’s a way onto the bridge, get yourselves up it, hold fire until the uniforms pull out, and someone better watch the flanks!’
Her people hustled to carry out her orders, the knot of them that’d been with us at the front taking the steps two at a time. Reg appeared at my arm a moment later, and offered me my bag back.
‘Sorry Nurse Cox, I think I’ll be needing both hands.’
‘It’s alright Reg, thanks, now go!’
He gave a brief, gentlemanly smile, and was off, Mrs Lowe following behind him. I gave them until the top of the stairs before I started my bit.
‘Claire, take them up. I’ll make sure we have no stragglers. Okay?’
‘You’re leading from the rear?’ she asked.
‘You’re the doctor, why am I leading anything? I thought we were a team anyway!’
‘A team on which you’re giving the orders.’
‘This is not the time!’ I warned her, pointing a finger as I began to walk around the edge of the confused crowd.
‘Excuse me!’ she tried, calling out to the crowd. It didn’t work. She cleared her throat, put her hands on her hips and tried again.
‘I know you’re all in a muddle as to what’s happening, but the short version is that the road is too dangerous. Infected are coming and we need to be on that bridge to get off the road and away from them. Up those stairs is a way we can do that, but I need you all to behave yourselves. Single file. One at a time. No pushing, no shoving. Are we clear?’
‘Yes doctor!’ came a voice from the crowd that I’m pretty sure was Gavin. Despite the sarcastic origins, he was actually echoed by several others.
‘Good. Now, follow me everyone.’
Beta squad had given us two minutes before the runners arrived, and we’d been burning through those seconds. If the ghouls were as smart an aberration as I thought they were, then our friend in camo wouldn’t just be dragging the horde our way for fun. It thought it had a chance of taking us all out. Maybe he was hungry, or maybe he was looking to recruit more into his entourage. Either way, it didn’t matter. We’d be dead if we weren’t off the road in short order.
Tony had seen me moving towards the back, and let the crowd go by him. ‘Anything I can do to help?’
‘Anyone misbehaves, you have my permission, kick their ass.’ I told him.
He flicked out Emile’s baton. ‘Cool.’
A shout went up, a bellowed order from Sgt Bailey.
Suddenly, the snap, crackle and pop of gunfire cut through the refugees’ chatter, and elicited a particularly panicked cry from one woman. The first burst was shortly followed by another, and another, punctuated by the resounding boom of a shotgun blast. Our two minutes were up.
‘Stay calm!’ I called out. ‘No pushing!’
‘Gunfire is good! Means someone’s shooting bad guys!’ Tony shouted.
The mob of refugees kept a slow but steady pace up the stairs, and presumably onto the bridge – I couldn’t see from down here, but there was no way that single cabin at the top could hold everybody. Not unless they all had clown-car training.
I kept my eyes on the defences as I ushered people forwards. SySec and GFPD were taking turns firing and reloading, pacing their shots out with the military discipline I was unsurprisingly beginning to associate with professional soldier types. If they’d have fought this well at the hospital things might be different. I guess they’d learned from their mistakes, adapted their tactics.
I watched them for a moment, seeing the pattern in their fire. They’d shoot from left to right, not as a whole line, but in smaller groups, maybe fives or sixes. I guess it was so they didn’t burn through their ammo shooting at targets their squadmates were already firing on. I wondered how long that trigger discipline would last once the runners were close enough to smell.
‘Come on, let’s go!’ Tony called out, halfway up the stairs. I snapped out of it and followed him up, kit bag in my left hand so I could pull myself up with the rail on the right.
The stairs put us out on top of the cabins, where Mrs Lowe and Reg stood, rifles raised to their shoulders, looking down the scopes. There was a great view of the battlefield here and I wished there wasn’t.
The cars stretching off to get into Greenfield went a long way. At least as long as the trail of cars trying to get out. I couldn’t tell you in yards or miles, as the road gently curved to the left, the gridlock continuing along the motorway until the road bent out of sight.
Sprinting figures cut through the corridors of metal and glass, bounding over the bodies of those who’d come before them, or in some cases, jumping from roof to roof. The runners really could run, and while they might have lacked the coordination of the living – they made up for it in numbers.
But even the wave of sprinting figures paled in comparison to what I saw beyond their stragglers. A mass of infected were heading towards us, swarming through the cars and trucks like ants. On the other side of the road, more shambling corpses had been trapped by the dividers, but they were making much faster progress, not being hindered by traffic.
With runners coming on faster than they fell, and hundreds of slower, but no less hungry undead behind, this was a losing battle. I was glad that Hale and Lowe knew this from the start, and had planned accordingly.
Claire stuck her head around the doorway. ‘We’re clear!’ she called out over the gunfire.
Mrs Lowe’s rifle cracked, and she turned her head to Claire. ‘Get yourselves up now, go on!’
‘Hells…there must be hundreds of them…’ Tony said, shaking his head as we went inside.
The gunfire was a fraction quieter in the cabin, and you couldn’t see the oncoming tide of undead. You’d think that’d have made it a little nicer than the outside, but it wasn’t. The walls felt close, and the stink of death was enough to force me into taking only shallow breaths.
I tried not to count them, but it was hard not to spot the four dead bodies in the room, each of them partially devoured, intestines spilling out into their lap or across the carpet, each of them killed by a single gunshot self-administered under the chin.
‘I’m beginning to think we should have started walking home when we had the chance.’ Claire said, her eyes darting to the window, where a living soldier was aiming his weapon. If he was bothered by the bodies around him, he was hiding it well.
‘It’s a shame it’s too late for “I told you so”.’ I said, eyes sliding from the viscera of one body leaning in the corner.
It’s at a time like this that you’ve usually got to crack some joke, some shit-dark piece of black comedy to remind everyone that they’re better off than the dead. I tried to think of something, but came up empty.
‘Come on, you heard Mrs Lowe,’ Tony urged us, ‘off we fuck.’
Our escape route onto the bridge consisted of a set of folding ladders beneath a skylight. Claire went first as I footed for her. The top step left a little climb between itself and the ceiling, but a pair of hands appeared to help her up.
Tony went next, and I followed closely behind, carefully taking each step at a time, as there was nobody there holding the ladders for me. He took my bag at the top, and Claire helped me make the big step from ladder to roof.
It felt a little dangerous to be this high without some kind of guard rail, and this coming from the girl who rides a motorcycle for fun. Apparently an approaching army of hungry monsters changes your outlook on health and safety.
‘That’s our escape route?’ Tony asked, gesturing at the method we’d have to use to climb the six or seven feet from the cabin to the bridge.
It was a folding chair, scratched and dirty from the many boots that’d recently stood atop it. The two foot boost got you part of the way, and the foliage had already been cleared from the side of the bridge above, so you just had to pull yourself up onto the bare concrete. Perhaps not the easiest task with a large backpack weighing you down, or duffel in hand.
Claire knew the score though. She stepped up onto the chair and took a jumping start, pushing down on the concrete lip and trying to get a knee over for extra purchase. She might have had a hard time of it on her own, but our backpacks were good handholds for the folks who’d already made it up. Gavin and Tucker grabbed onto her pack, and hauled her over the ledge. Solid upper body strength is a much sought after trait for all ambulance crews.
I gestured for Tony to go first again, and boosted his ass as they pulled him from above. Then I tossed him my kit bag, and followed Claire’s example, hauling myself up with their assistance.
‘Mrs Lowe! All civilians clear!’ I shouted down over the gunfire.
‘Captain Hale, it’s time!’ Mrs Lowe called further down.
‘Sergeant Bailey, begin the withdrawal!’ Captain Hale ordered.
I very distantly heard Bailey begin to relay orders over the continuing rattles, pops and booms of gunfire.
SySec and GFPD began a piece by piece retreat, several figures running back and
turning to fire while several more ran behind them, turned and did the same, covering each other until they reached the stairs and vanished before reappearing where Mrs Lowe had been, atop the cabins.
Lowe and Reg however, were already being pulled up onto the bridge, and immediately hustled around us to join their rifles with their fellows’, who at Lowe’s command, unleashed a barrage of shots almost directly downwards on the final infected running for the stairs. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.
The first deafening cracks from the massed rifles and shotguns sent most of the blood-stained infected sprawling, dead or wounded. Those still standing, or struggling to stand, were brought down a moment later by follow-up shots. They weren’t as disciplined as the soldiers and cops they were covering, not pacing their shots, but firing almost as one. It might not have been an efficient use of ammo, but it was a lot more impressive to see in action.
‘Hold fire!’ she called to her men. ‘Fast-movers are all down – one fine job there. Ignore the ones that can’t stand back up. The rest are too far away to be trouble, so save your bullets. Now, why the hell isn’t anyone watching the flanks like I asked? Who’s watching the woods?’
‘The woods?’ one of her riflewomen asked.
‘Yeah damn it, the woods! We might be up against a smart eater here – could have some idea about how to fight. So if I say watch the fucking flanks Susan, you watch the fucking flanks.’
With Mrs Lowe reporting the runners were all dead, I could breathe a sigh of relief. I felt it from the rest of the refugees too, medics and civilians alike. I hadn’t been sure if the runners might able to climb a ladder or not. Granted that a bottleneck like that would pose them some problems anyway, but at least we knew they had no way of following us onto the bridge.
The militia split themselves up, covering either end of the bridge. It gave the refugees some space for a breather and a little round of nervous laughter went up from more than one cluster, as adrenaline faded and they realised they were safe, even with the slower moving infected closing in, there was no way they could get up here.
The Suburban Dead (Book 2): Emergency Page 19