by RR Haywood
‘BOTH TEAMS FIRE,’ Dave shouts and we all drop to pour bullets into the mass on the northern side but with our focus diverted so the ones on the southern side make better progress as they too learn how to move fast across the mud and it’s obvious both hordes are aiming straight towards the three from Roy’s van.
Several break free from the horde on the northern side and sprint ahead with alarming pace as they howl into the air. Roy’s rifle clicks empty and he lets it drop on the sling, pulls his bow round, nocks an arrow and looses into the closest with a head shot that sends the male flying back into the mud. Already the second is nocked and loosed and the second infected is taken down.
‘Dave, southern side,’ I pant and watch as he twitches over to aim and fires single shots into the ones breaking free from that horde.
Arrows fly. Dave gets head shots and the rest of us run towards Paula and Charlie expending magazine after magazine into the charging lines. Thighs burning and chests heaving but we drive on slipping in the mud while we ram fresh magazines home. I drop and fire mine into the northern side, get up and start running again but the ground is so sodden my feet slide out until they sink down inches into the gooey mud. My knees hurt and my ankles ache as much as my thighs and the sweat pours down my face as a black streak goes flying past me with Meredith showing what four wheel drive with built in traction control really looks like. She stays low, her paws barely touching the ground and any slips made by the paws hitting the ground are compensated by her perfect poise and centre of gravity.
‘Meredith is loose,’ Nick shouts, ‘watch your fire.’
‘Dave and Roy northern side, everyone else southern,’ I shout knowing those two will get perfect shots every time with no risk of hitting the dog. The rest of us adjust and fire a devastating volley down the green into that smaller group but still more pour from the gardens, houses and side streets on the topside.
Meredith reaches them and after slaughtering one on her way in, she disappears from view to cause carnage within their dense ranks and as amazing as she is even she can’t take down enough to lessen the risk of them reaching Paula, Roy and Charlie before we get there and we can’t risk firing into them now.
‘We’re gonna have to go in,’ Clarence shouts as he changes magazine.
‘Yep, Blowers…sort the southern side out then join us.’
‘On it, you heard Mr Howie…FIRE INTO THOSE FUCKERS… FASTER…’
‘Marcy, stay with Blowers,’ I sling my rifle and pull the axe free.
‘I’m immune I can…’
‘Do not question me, Marcy,’ I snap her words off leaving no room for discussion, ‘Dave, get to Meredith, Clarence with me. Ready?’
‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
‘Go,’ Clarence and I side by side with our double headed axes held ready. Dave going ahead drawing his knives as he goes. ‘Roy…protect Meredith.’
‘I am,’ he says as calm as ever firing into an undead lunging towards her broad back as she sinks down to rag a female’s neck open. The arrow strikes sending the undead spinning away as he nocks and aims tracking the dog who is completely unaware of the cover she’s been given.
‘Meredith, here,’ I call out between gasping breaths, ‘here…come on girl…’
‘She’s zoned out,’ Clarence gasps.
‘NICK…Try calling her back.’
‘MEREDITH…HERE GIRL….COME BACK…’
‘Fuck it,’ I mutter at the distinct lack of response watching her whip about as arrows fly inches from her body.
‘More arrows,’ Roy shouts, ‘Reggie, bring me more arrows.’
Carnage. Filthy muddy bloodied sweaty carnage. Spread out with assault rifles firing, undead howling, hissing and screaming and the dog snarling amongst them and Dave seemingly gliding over the wet ground and the natural born killer uses the environment to his advantage as he speeds up then simply drops and slides on his back in the mud through a group that each find their Achilles tendons cut. They fall like comical dominoes one after the other to land splatting in the mud.
Dave is up, running flat out across a short gap and drops down to slide between the legs of a male still turning to get him. The calculation of the speed, distance and angle needed are perfect and the two blades flick up to open the arteries in the groin. He rises, spinning on the spot and waiting for a circle of infected to fall in on him and again his eyes take everything in. The speed of approach, the distance to each and the way they will fall and beyond them to Roy taking aim. He pauses and ducks at the last second as the closest lunges in to be taken away by the arrow embedding in the throat and he simply side steps into the gap created and steps on the fallen body to gain traction underfoot. Then he lets them come to him, remaining static but leaning from the waist as he bends and lashes out to cut throat after throat. The blades whisper across jugulars and by the time the blood is spraying out he’s onto the next one until the blood arcs in the air are synchronised in harmonious order. Cut spray. Cut spray. Cut spray. The immediate area cleared but now he has more bodies to use and stepping stones they become as he treads on stomachs and backs to cut them down.
The trust he shows Roy is incredible and the arrows fly past his head as close as they do to Meredith. Roy is a machine. Nocking. Pulling and loosing without apparent aim and the more he does the faster he gets until two are in the air at the same time. A blur of motion and Reginald at his side holding the arrows out for him to take to lessen the range of motion needed.
Never in my entire life could such a thing be witnessed or believed. Dave ballet dancing with such poised grace that it belies the violent death he gives. Meredith ragging legs out to tug them down, a twitch of a movement and she’s at the neck opening it quickly and ragging to the side with a wrench and off to the next one and anything that gets close to touching her is shot through with an arrow fired by Roy who watches Dave and Meredith alike. The silence of the three strikes me more than anything. Behind us are assault rifles firing repeatedly with explosions of cordite or whatever propellant is used to make the bullet fly at sub-sonic speed through the air but in front the deaths are given as equally if not greater and with silence. The knives make no sound. Meredith snarls but it’s lost in the noise of the kills and the bow gently kisses the air. Christ, if we had five Dave’s, five Roy’s and five Meredith’s we’d have won already and now be resting on a beach eating burgers and drinking cold beers.
Except we ain’t got five of them. What we have is a bloody great big bloke planted on tree trunk legs swinging a double bladed axe as he stomps a direct path through to the dog and me running in his wake killing what I can get at. Heads lunge and get removed. Arms lopped off and the blades bite deep into necks, shoulders, torsos and spill sticky blood into the sticky mud. An arrow swooshes an inch from my nose to strike a lunging female through the eye and I yelp out and spin to see Roy already loosing the next one, ‘I’ll work round you, Mr Howie,’ he says as calm as anything, ‘pretend I’m not here.’
Pretend he’s not there? Fuck me this is as surreal as it gets.
‘KEEP HER BACK,’ Clarence bellows at the sight of Charlie running towards us with a long bladed knife, ‘CHARLIE GET BACK NOW.’
She stops and hesitates as Paula catches up and pulls her back with a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head and saying something with Reginald behind her feeding arrows to Roy.
‘GOT HER,’ Dave shouts with one hand gripping the scruff of the dog’s neck while his other flicks out to slice into the flesh of anything stupid enough to get near him.
‘SOUTHERN SIDE CLEAR,’ Blowers roars from behind.
‘SIMON, SUSTAINED FIRE ON MY COMMAND,’ Dave shouts back-stepping with the dog.
‘READY ON YOUR COMMAND,’ Blowers shouts back.
‘DOWN,’ Dave roars and drops at the same time as Clarence and I plant our faces down into the mud, ‘NOW.’
Assault rifles firing over our heads withering them back as Blowers paces forward with his team in a solid line. I glance back to wat
ch them walking with small steady paces. Six of them firing bursts into the packed horde that gets cut to pieces. Paula and Charlie joining to them as Roy snatches his rifle up to add his own intense fire rate.
‘CHANGE MAGAZINES,’ Blowers shouts.
‘UP,’ Dave adds his order and we’re on our feet back-stepping and facing the recovering horde coming at us. A small skirmish and a few get through our gaps only to be taken down by Roy back on his bow as Reginald changes the magazine in Roy’s rifle.
‘READY.’
‘DOWN.’
‘FIRE.’
Again we face plant and I risk a glance back to see Blowers is much closer now and leading a disciplined line that fires steadily into those still charging towards us. Paula and Charlie weave back to fall in at the end of the line and keep pace as Roy goes back to his rifle.
‘YOURS.’
‘UP.’
We’re up and closing that gap between us as Dave drags the dog back and Clarence and I slice down the bodies either attacking us or trying to run past. Metres now between our line going back and Blowers’ line coming forward.
‘READY.’
‘DOWN.’
‘FIRE.’
Fucking hell this is amazing. The line headed by Blowers look brutally efficient stepping as one with grim determined expressions from Paula at one end to Mohammed at the other end, ‘HOLD,’ Blowers calls out to stop the progression a couple of metres back from us, ‘YOURS,’ he shouts and we pause as each rifle is lowered before lurching up and falling back into the gaps made ready for us. Axes tucked down, rifles pulled round, magazines changed.
‘FIRE,’ I shout and now we all do so, organised, disciplined and killing the shit out of them. They drop like flies now with every weapon firing solidly and Dave standing with the dog between his legs gripping her tight so she doesn't run off again.
‘CHANGE,’ we all do it heedless of regard to any that have a remaining round or two left but it shows something to the other side. It shows unity and the strength in that unity. That we are misfits, oddballs and a collective bunch of weirdos that are wholly incompetent at most things apart from this. This we can do and we do it well. Hundreds are slaughtered and although we know this was a move on a chessboard we also know the infection would have taken us here if it had the chance.
‘CEASEFIRE,’ I shout and the guns fall silent as the last one drops, ‘Dave.’
‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
‘Release the hound,’ I look round with a grin, ‘I’ve been dying to say that.’
He steps away and she’s off, itching to get stuck back in and snaking through the bodies to sniff out anything that still lives. Snarls sound out as she closes in on them and rags the necks open.
Our line remains solid and unmoving. Changing magazines again and looking, scanning, always looking and always scanning. We check behind but the ground is littered with bodies.
‘Good work, Roy,’ I call down the line.
‘Thanks,’ he says leaning forward to nod at me.
‘You too, Blowers.’
‘Cheers, boss.’
‘Everyone okay?’
‘Fuck yes,’ Blinky says then bends double to puke on the ground, ‘sorry,’ she waves a hand in the air between retches.
‘Charlie.’
‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
‘I appreciate you coming to help but don’t do that again.’
‘Of course, my apologies, Mr Howie.’
‘No need to say sorry but we’d shout if we needed help.’
‘I understand.’
‘Bloody brave though,’ Clarence says looking over everyone’s head to her, ‘and I mean that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Did she run in to help you?’ Blowers asks.
‘She did,’ Clarence says, ‘like I said, bloody brave.’
‘Yeah,’ Blowers says, ‘well done, Charlie.’
‘How the hell do you do that, Roy?’ Nick asks, ‘you were like an inch from hitting Meredith.’
‘And us,’ Clarence says.
‘I can calculate your movements,’ Roy says, ‘but not if you’re trying to compensate for my aiming. If we do that again ignore me and let me work.’
‘Understood,’ I reply, ‘Reginald, nice to see you out of the…where is he?’
‘Gone back in the van,’ Paula says.
‘Fair enough, so,’ I say slowly looking round, ‘we chose a good place to fight then. How the fuck we gonna get out?’ I ask as everyone turns to stare at Nick who chuckles self-consciously.
‘We’ll find something the wheels can grip on…old carpet from the houses or…’
‘They’re too heavy for carpets to work,’ Roy says, ‘we’ll need industrial matting…’
‘Or chains,’ Mohammed says.
‘Chains might work,’ Nick says.
‘We’ve got chains in the Saxon haven’t we?’ Roy asks.
‘Yeah,’ Nick nods, ‘thick fuckers too.’
‘Like you then.’
‘Funny, Cookey.’
‘I try.’
‘I thought chains worked in the snow?’ I ask, ‘won’t the mud sink through the links.’
‘We only need a few inches,’ Nick says.
‘That’s what she said.’
‘Cookey you dick,’ Nick groans, ‘or we can stick some planks of wood down but the risk is she’ll sink straight back in once we move off, and finding planks of wood in a hurry might not be easy either.’
‘Use doors,’ Paula says, ‘from the houses, ‘they’ll do it won’t they?’
‘Yeah, yeah they will, internal wooden doors,’ Nick says looking down the line to Roy, ‘will they do it?’
‘Solid wood doors will, not the cheap things.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Clarence says with a heavy sigh, ‘and I wonder who’ll be ripping them off and carrying them down.’
‘We all will,’ I announce at the sight of his sweating red face, ‘how many do we need?’
‘Two at the least but as many as we can carry,’ Nick says.
‘Right,’ I give my own heavy sigh and start trudging through the mud towards the bodies, ‘let’s get on with it then. Vehicles rescued. Clothes changed. Fluids and on we go…er unless that is anyone wants to stop and have a poo or anything?’
‘Why do you keep asking that?’ Clarence asks walking past, ‘I had one this morning.’
‘Me too,’ Blowers adds.
‘I don’t need a shit, Mr Howie,’ Blinky says helpfully.
‘I asked,’ I say with a shrug to Marcy.
Work to be done. Always work to be done and we tread through the bodies still being checked by Meredith apparently content in her work and head towards the semi-detached houses. You know, the semi-detached houses that are really one building but they have two gardens with a fence running down the middle. Roy is a genius but very bloody weird but then I guess that goes hand in hand. Reginald is as odd as they come but then he’s spot on so far. Charlie is reticent to the point of being tight-lipped about anything to do with her history but she’s clearly very intelligent.
At the houses we switch on for a few more minutes and do clearance of the rooms before taking it in turns at the kitchen and bathroom sinks to rinse the filth and mud from our eyes and faces. Pouring cooling water over our heads and drinking until we feel bloated. Meredith is given a huge bowl and she lies down with her front paws either side to lap thirstily as Nick, Mo and Blinky use pots and pans to pour more water over her coat. She pays no heed and drinks for a long minute before bringing her head up to pant for a few seconds then dipping back down to carry on.
Roy retrieves his arrows, well those that can be retrieved as a few are ruined from being jammed into eye sockets and bones. With that going on Clarence sizes up the first door, a nice solid stripped pine thing leading into a nice lounge with a stripped pine floor. A brief grunt and the door is being walked out to be stacked outside. It doesn't look that hard so I go for the next one, which is another stripped pi
ne solid thing leading to a downstairs toilet. I grasp the edges, tense and strain trying to pull it free but I might as well be trying to push a house over for the effect it has.
‘May I?’ Clarence asks waiting for me to step aside so he can grasp the door in exactly the same places I was holding it and grunting with the most minimal of effort as he snaps the hinges and walks off down the hallway with an apologetic nod. He walks back in, trudges upstairs and walks back down carrying another one which he stacks outside. Blowers and I go for the kitchen door and work together straining and grunting to try and pull the thing free. Cookey joins in, then Nick and Blinky until we’re all huffing and puffing to and most likely working against each other.
‘Last one?’ Clarence asks from behind us leaning against the wall.
‘Yeah,’ I step back and wipe the sweat from my eyes as the others give up and let him get past, ‘fuck’s sake,’ I mutter when the door comes away in his hands.
‘You weakened it,’ he says and walks off again.
Outside we work in twos carrying the doors over the road and onto the green as we navigate back through the bodies towards the Saxon and Dave keeping watch like the sentinel he is. Already covered in mud so getting more covered in mud hardly seems to matter as we work to jam the doors under the edge of the wheels and work them up and down like levers to push them harder under the wheels. We slip, slide, curse, sweat and become mud monsters until finally Nick and Roy announce it should be enough.
‘We’ll have to push from the back,’ Roy says examining the front wheels again, ‘if we all do it we might get onto the doors.’
‘Who wants to drive?’ I ask out loud, ‘ladies?’
‘Don’t be sexist,’ Paula says with a glare at me, ‘but okay,’ she darts off to the driver’s door and clambers up, ‘hard or slow?’
‘That’s what she said,’ an exhausted Cookey shouts.
‘Slow,’ Nick says wading to the back with the rest of us, ‘Charlie can you stay at the front and shout when the wheels get purchase.’
‘Why can’t you do it?’ She asks pointedly.
‘Because I’m stronger and can push more,’ he says walking off while wiping the mud from his face.