The Undead Day Eighteen

by RR Haywood

  ‘Ooh, harsh,’ I say as the men all draw breath and make low noises.

  ‘So we go in like before and let it think we’re still on track…what about after that?’

  ‘I need to know where we are,’ Reginald says staring at the map in front of him.

  ‘Foxwood,’ Nick says, ‘that was the place with the duck pond, is that on there?’

  ‘Foxwood,’ Reginald mutters staring down, ‘can you see it?’

  ‘Me? I can’t bloody read,’ Nick says, ‘how do you spell it? Charlie, you have a look.’ He swaps seats with Charlie and draws his packet of cigarettes out to hand round.

  ‘Foxwood,’ Charlie says holding her finger on the map, ‘right here.’

  ‘Ah yes, yes so it is. Indeed. Yes. Yes indeed. Foxwood. Indeed,’ Reginald mutters as he examines the map closely.

  ‘What scale is that?’ Charlie asks, ‘is that a one in fifty?’

  ‘Indeed it is. One in fifty.’

  ‘Have you got a one in twenty five?’ Charlie asks leafing through the pile of maps brought back by the lads, ‘it will have greater detail on the layout.’

  ‘Indeed it will but we’d need a one in twelve or ten for the exact street layout.’

  ‘We’ll never find a one in twelve,’ Charlie says, ‘unless we can find a surveyors office. Here,’ she says opening a map, ‘oh sorry, Paula,’ she adds as she tries to open the map and knocks Paula’s empty can over.

  ‘You carry on,’ Paula says with a look at me. I shrug my shoulders as we all stare at Charlie and Reginald.

  ‘Foxwood,’ Charlie says running her right hand gently over the surface of the map, ‘Foxwood…nearby features?’

  ‘Er…lake to the south,’ Reginald says without looking up, ‘got it?’

  ‘Lake?’

  ‘Yes. Lake. Let me see,’ Reginald stands to lean over the table at the second map, his left hand on the first and his right on the second. He looks between the two tracing features until a look of recognition crosses his face, ‘yes here, Foxwood.’

  ‘Gosh it’s tiny,’ Charlie says peering down.

  ‘That’s what Blinky said about Cookey’s knob,’ Blowers says.

  ‘No she said it was sharp and pointy.’

  ‘And small,’ Blinky says with a grin.

  ‘Is that helping?’ Paula asks them, ‘is it? Is it helping them work?’

  ‘Er, no,’ Blinky says looking down.

  ‘It isn’t is it? It’s not helping.’

  ‘Sorry, Paula,’ Blowers says.

  ‘You sound like a teacher,’ Roy chuckles.

  ‘Do I? Good,’ Paula says with a nod and a wry grin.

  ‘So you er…you know how to read a map then, Charlie?’ Clarence asks casually.

  ‘Yes,’ she says politely with a glance up.

  ‘Right. That’s good then,’ he says as she looks back down to examine the map.

  ‘Don’t you?’ I ask him.

  ‘Oh god,’ he says with a look of horror, ‘we did learn but we used satellite navigation all the time…I could find a route but…’

  ‘Dave?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Can you read a map?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Dave can,’ I smile at Clarence.

  ‘I said I can too,’ he blusters.

  ‘So what’s the difference between them?’ I ask the two figures bent over the table, ‘er…right…busy then?’

  ‘Hmm, what? Sorry,’ Charlie looks back up again, ‘sorry was that question directed at us?’

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘The difference in the scale?’ She asks.

  ‘One in fifty,’ Reginald says without looking up, ‘means one centimetre on the map represents fifty thousand centimetres in real life or five hundred metres…’

  ‘And that’s which one?’

  ‘This one,’ Reginald taps his map, ‘the size of the geographical area is larger,’ he says sweeping his hand over the map, ‘and we have some detail such as topography, dense urbanised areas, forests, open land and larger features.’

  ‘Oh right,’ I reply, ‘and the other one does what?’

  He looks up at me for a second and blinks.

  ‘What?’ I ask him and look round, ‘what? Don’t tell me I’m the only one that doesn't know the difference…’

  ‘One in twenty five means one centimetre to two hundred and fifty metres,’ Charlie says without any trace of condescension, ‘most leisure maps will be one in twenty five. The one in fifty shows the whole of the area in less detail whereas the one in twenty five shows a smaller area but greater details. For instance, it shows the main road going through Foxwood and most of the smaller roads but not the shape of the buildings or junctions.’

  ‘Unless they are buildings of significance,’ Reginald says.

  ‘To get a real close up of a town and exact road layout we’d need a one in ten thousand scale but they’re not so common unless we use road atlases but with the onset of satellite navigation they have become somewhat rare. I would hazard a guess however that most service stations, especially motorway service stations would stock them…some older drivers still use them,’ Charlie says, smiles and looks back down as we all stare in silence.

  ‘You’ll catch flies, Cookey,’ Marcy says.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says with hearts in his eyes, ‘that was so fucking cool. Charlie and Reggie are like…like…fucking clever as fuck.’

  ‘Foxwood is here,’ Reginald says tapping the spot on Charlie’s one in twenty five map and looking over at me, ‘and Foxwood should have been missed out because of the housing estate which makes the next target Hydehill,’ he says tapping the map again, ‘then we miss the next one, presuming that is we are staying on the main road and the next target after Hydehill is Brookley.’

  ‘How big is Hydehill?’ Clarence asks.

  Charlie leans over to stare for a second, ‘approximately the same size as Foxwood, perhaps just a smidgen larger.’

  ‘A smidgen?’ Cookey asks, ‘cool word.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Charlie beams, ‘I would say most of the towns and villages in this area and on the road we are following are between the size of this village and Foxwood.’

  ‘Small villages really then,’ Clarence says looking at me, ‘where’s the next biggest one that we’d hit if we were staying on the leap-frog pattern.’

  ‘Brookley is here,’ Reginald says, ‘which is just a village, then miss one…Flitcombe we would attack but that looks the same size as Foxwood?’ He says looking at Charlie.

  ‘Oh gosh yes, really not a big place at all. However the next target place after that must be here?’

  ‘Stenbury,’ Reginald says in answer to Clarence.

  ‘Is it big?’ Clarence asks.

  ‘You can see,’ Charlie says lifting the map up and stepping back to show everyone, ‘this is Foxwood where the duck pond is…oh I can’t hold it and show you at the same time.’

  ‘Foxwood,’ Reginald says moving over to point at the small town on the map then traces his finger along a thick red line, ‘Hydehill…Brookley….Flitcombe and then Stenbury,’ he stops moving his finger and taps lightly on the map. The others are all small in comparison to Stenbury which sprawls with a much bigger grey splodge and with several main roads running through it.

  ‘Is that where you would plan to get us?’ I ask.

  ‘Stenbury? Yes. I would draw you through these smaller towns by giving you some opposition. Enough to build your confidence and give you a sense of security before getting you into Stenbury.’

  ‘How would you do it?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Reginald says with a look of alarm, ‘I’m not a military person.’

  ‘But you’d know how to get us there,’ I say, ‘so what would you do once we were there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he says again, ‘I can plan strategy but not combat. I am not a combat expert and nor would I know how to use topography to aid such a thing. For a s
tart I would need a map that has a far higher level of detail than a one on twenty five. I’m not even sure a one in ten would suffice. The opponent however, will know every street, corner, junction and building there.’

  ‘Yeah but it’s still thick as fuck,’ I say, ‘so we’ve got that on our side.’

  ‘We hope,’ Paula says with a look at me.

  ‘Okay,’ I nod slowly and look down for a few seconds while thinking, ‘I’d say we keep going and hit those towns you said then stop and re-assess before we get to Stenbury. That gives Reginald and Charlie some time to examine the maps and maybe work out a way of getting us into that town without being seen…so we can fuck ‘em over.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Clarence says clapping his hands together.

  ‘We have a cunning plan,’ Roy says.

  ‘I’m so sorry, what did you just say?’ Reginald says with a step towards me.

  ‘I was just holding the map,’ Charlie says quickly to me.

  ‘One thing I’ve learnt,’ I say standing up, ‘is that we have the right people doing the right jobs. Dave kills everything. Paula plans everything. Cookey takes the piss out of everything. Roy catches everything. Nick sets fire to everything…’

  ‘I do not…’

  ‘Can you two work together?’

  ‘Er, what do you mean by work?’ Reginald sputters, ‘work at what? With what do you want us to work? To what aim? Oh gosh I wish I had never said anything now, really I do…’

  ‘I was just holding the map,’ Charlie says again.

  ‘Can you work together? Reginald, will it help if Charlie works with you?’

  ‘Oh gosh.’

  ‘Was that gosh directed at me?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Gosh no, I mean gosh to the suggestion posed by Mr Howie.’

  ‘But I can now fire a weapon, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Yes you can,’ I say to Charlie, ‘but one less weapon being fired won’t hurt us as much as having the ability to strategize.’

  ‘Good word,’ Paula says with an affirming look.

  ‘Strategize? Yeah I thought so too. Everyone ready?’

  ‘Ready? Oh my lord no I am not ready. Not ready by a long…distinctly not ready…we have to examine the maps and plan ahead and…’

  ‘Yeah you can do that while we’re kicking the shit out of that first place…what was it?’

  ‘Hydehill,’ Charlie says.

  ‘But there is only one seat at the desk in Roy’s van,’ Reginald says standing up and panicking.

  ‘Chair,’ I pick one up to show him, ‘loads of them about.’

  ‘Perhaps Reginald would care to work alone?’ Charlie asks, ‘I assisted here but…’

  ‘No no, I would be delighted to share the burden of this awful task set to us. Indeed if I had known this would happen I would have stayed silent and truly I am not capable of doing the task set to me by Mr Howie and I fear greatly it will end in a terrible way and I will to be to blame so yes, sharing the burden of responsibility for so many lives will of course be a good thing and…’ he pauses, blinks and stares round at everyone with a look of intense terror, ‘I wish I had not said anything at all.’

  ‘And let us all get killed?’ Marcy asks him sharply.

  ‘Oh gosh no, no I would not do that.’

  ‘Reggie,’ Marcy fixes him with a stern look, ‘you’ve always told me how much of an intellectual you are. Now prove it.’

  ‘Gosh yes I have said that haven’t I. Yes. Yes indeed. This is my own fault. I am my own undoing.’

  I push on before he can talk or think his way out of it, ‘grab a chair then, or you might find a comfortable office chair in one of these buildings…lads, who fancies finding a nice office chair for Charlie?’ I ask and watch the five of them burst up and into the café digging elbows into each other.

  ‘Popular then,’ Marcy says with a grin that harbours on being slightly too forced for my liking.

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ Charlie replies folding the maps up.

  ‘We’ll need radios, Boss,’ Clarence says still sat back in his chair holding one huge hand round a can of Tango.

  ‘We’ve got radios.’

  ‘Not when we’re on the ground we haven’t. How will Reginald and Charlie communicate with us?’

  ‘Communicate? What for?’ Reginald blusters with a fresh wave of panic.

  ‘So we can talk,’ I say with a casual shrug, ‘you know, in case we’re separated and you get surrounded or something.’

  ‘Surrounded?!’

  ‘Oh god, no not surrounded like actually surrounded,’ I say with an imploring look to Paula.

  ‘Just stay inside if they attack the van,’ Roy says in a confident tone, ‘they won’t get in that…’

  ‘Get in? Attacked? Surrounded?’

  ‘You said they’re going to be waiting for us,’ Roy says, ‘especially the closer we get to Stenbury.’

  ‘Oh gosh…’

  ‘Yeah not helping, Roy,’ I say with a groan, ‘you won’t get attacked or surrounded, but just in case of anything we’ll get radios from somewhere…anything else? Reginald, Charlie? What else do you need?’

  ‘A lie down in a dark room,’ Reginald whimpers.

  ‘Whiteboard markers, clipboards, paper, pens,’ Charlie says picking the now folded maps up, ‘oh and a magnifying glass if you can find one.’

  ‘A magnifying glass?’

  ‘The maps,’ Reginald says in a weak voice. He looks as though he’s about to faint actually, ‘the details can be very small.’

  ‘Am I keeping my rifle?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Yes,’ Dave says, ‘at all times with a fresh magazine loaded and ready.’

  ‘You’re going to be Reginald’s bodyguard,’ Paula says standing up and stretching with a slow grin.

  ‘There’s no office chair,’ Cookey says coming out the door, ‘I’ll check over the road.’

  ‘It’s no bother,’ Charlie says, ‘I can use one of these…oh they’ve already gone.’

  ‘Cookey would offer himself as a chair if he could,’ Paula says watching them run across the road, ‘actually I think they probably all would.’

  ‘Load up then, we taking those cans?’

  We do take the cans, and pilfer a load more from the café and the Tracker bars and biscuits too while the lads and Blinky push, carry, pull and argue over a worn out old office chair on wheels that gets pushed, lifted, pulled and argued over into the back of Roy’s van.

  ‘Got these,’ Mo Mo presents an array of pens in his hands to Charlie with a sheepish smile.

  ‘Thank you, Mo,’ Charlie says taking them.

  ‘Got paper,’ Cookey says shoving a pack of printer paper into her hands.

  ‘Thank you, Cookey.’

  ‘Clipboards,’ Blowers says, ‘could only find two, is that enough?’

  ‘You’ve all done very well, thank you.’

  ‘I got you this,’ Blinky says holding her middle finger up, ‘seeing as I know you and have already seen you naked in the showers and don’t feel the need to get in your knickers.’

  ‘And thank you, Blinky,’ Charlie says rolling her eyes.

  ‘Fucking hang on,’ Cookey says, ‘you’ve seen…I mean…’

  ‘Shut up, Cookey,’ Blowers hisses.

  ‘Shutting up,’ Cookey nods.

  ‘And I think I just made four new best friends,’ Blinky says with a laugh, ‘do I tell them about your tattoos?’

  ‘I do not have any tattoos,’ Charlie says brusquely.

  ‘Have you got a tattoo?’ Cookey asks.

  ‘No I do not.’

  ‘Does she?’ Cookey asks Blinky.

  ‘Nooo,’ Blinky says mock seriously, ‘Charlie? Tattoo? Like fuck she’d have a tattoo.’

  ‘Argh, I can’t tell if you’re pissing about or not,’ Cookey wails.

  ‘Charlie? Are you ready?’ I ask cutting through the conversation.

  ‘Yes, of course. Reginald? Oh he’s inside. Right I will see you all later.’

&nbs
p; ‘Mr Howie?’

  ‘Yes, Cookey and if you’re going to ask me if you can go in Roy’s van the answer is no.’

  ‘Paula?’

  ‘Same, Cookey.’

  ‘Clarence?’

  ‘Get in the Saxon.’

  ‘Dave?’

  ‘Now, Alex.’

  ‘Yes, Dave. Sorry, Dave.’

  Day Eighteen

  Update No 3

  They are Special Forces. It is without doubt now. The skill of this group tells me they are a professionally trained and professionally organised cohesive combat unit operating to an incredible standard.

  My mind is filling with images of soldiers in combat uniforms working with discipline and structure where every move is thought in advance and every strategy is implemented with the greatest of judgement and taking into account every factor.

  In fact. I would confidently wager this group were trained for this specific purpose.

  The town I am in now is another middle sized market town with a highly confusing one way system that appears to have been developed by monkeys in a zoo using crayons. It is more open plan than the previous where I discovered the armoured vans therefore it did not give me the sense of foreboding.

  Jess did react though and again she commenced snorting and throwing her head about as whatever smells and scents reached her nose.

  What we discovered is akin to the findings in Finkton. Hundreds of infected corpses all killed within the main plaza of the town. It appears they were running or moving towards the road bordering the northern edge and from that position I found many shell casings of military grade ammunition. The same size and type that fits my M4 assault rifle.

  I am very excited. Really very excited and I am writing these notes in haste to continue but one thing, no two things I must record before I move on.

  The reason I consider they were trained for this specific purpose is the use of arrows to kill the infected hosts. Arrows from a bow embedded in eye sockets, necks and throats and a large built male was stuck like a pin cushion so I can only imagine the reasons why the soldiers fired so many into him. Could he have been something different? Could that single undead have been mutated so that he kept on charging despite the many arrows in his arms, legs and torso?