by RR Haywood
‘Thousands. Not hundreds. Tilt the camera…’
‘But…oh my…what…’
‘Tilt the blasted camera,’ Reginald shouts, ‘too high…bring it down…gentle movements on the stick.’
Neal flusters pushing the stick on the controller too hard sending the camera panning up into the sky then back down to the ground. He steps closer to the screen staring in awe at the sight and feeling the urgency shown by the other man. ‘Where?’
‘Up…take it up…slowly! Yes….that window,’ Reginald says quickly, ‘hold it on that window….now zoom in.’
‘Zoom?’
‘The other stick.’
‘Oh, yes. I have it. Ah zoom…there are people inside,’ he says blinking at the sight of terrified people inside the room seen through the window.’
‘First building,’ Reginald says rushing to make a note, ‘I will go along to the next window…’
Neal nods feeling his heart hammering in his chest while his mind struggles to keep up with the change of events. Instead he focusses on the controller operating a camera on a drone hovering above the heads of thousands of infected host bodies.
‘Second building….’ Reginald jots it down, ‘next one…we have to go faster now.’
‘Yes of course,’ Neal says with the first signs of the panic easing down. He zooms out gradually as the other man glides the drone on towards the next building until the window of the first floor comes into view. Zoom in, adjust to the left, zoom in again and there, more people inside.
‘Third building….I am going up. Pan down to see them all. I think we’ve established the pattern now.’
‘Pattern?’ Neal asks.
‘Yes. Pan down…zoom out. Now see the nucleus of infected clustering at each dense point?’
‘Yes. Doors?’
‘Yes. Entry points. They know there are survivors inside each entry point…’ Reginald snatches the radio back up, ‘Mr Howie….every building on that side has survivors. You must clear the front of that building line…’
‘Yep. Clear the front…we’re going in. Find a way out.’
‘Yes working on it now….good luck…’
Dropping the radio Reginald pulls the stick back sending the drone higher into the air opening the view of the Saxon barrelling into the crossroads and turning towards the square.
‘Where are the others?’ Neal asks stepping closer again.
‘Others?’ Reginald says darkly, ‘there are no others.’
*
‘Mr Howie….every building on that side has survivors. You must clear the front of that building line…’
‘Yep. Clear the front…we’re going in. Find a way out.’
‘Yes working on it now….good luck…’
Fuck me. With the square laid out clearly in front of us we gain the first real view of the infected swarming thick and angry and numbering thousands.
‘DAVE,’ I shout fixing my eyes on the building line where the infected are massing at the doors. I didn’t need to shout his name for the second I straighten up he starts firing with a couple of short bursts that I can only guess are for him to gain aim and distance. After that and it becomes a sight to see.
I accelerate hard aiming to mount the pavement and sweep along the front and not every shot by Dave is a headshot, but the effect is just the same. Heads exploding like melons hit by bats. Pink mist after pink mist and scores are gunned down with that solid drumming beat of the heavy machine gun so reassuring and solid.
We bounce up the kerb with the big wheels absorbing the bump and I steer over to just inches from the front of the building line. At once the direction of the infected changes from attacking in towards the doors to facing and charging at us. Thousands and they less than human with every fight we greet them in. Animals or aliens or something horrific, warped and disgusting.
Graceful sweeps by Dave cut them down as he holds the aim at the average head height. Dozens killed instantly and more blown back off their feet as the heavy rounds strafe through their bodies.
Clarence braces. Extending both his hands to push hard against the dashboard while shouting for everyone else to do the same. Faster now and the Saxon builds with power that closes that distance until we slam into the first dense pocket running towards us. Destruction is given instant and messy. The Saxon bucking over the bodies that get mangled under the wheels and more slammed aside or killed by the solid metal sides hammering into them. On we go deeper into the hordes as I snarl through the bloodied windscreen at them. I can hear them now too. A primeval screeching howl emitted by thousands of voices that works to compete with the machine gun firing above us.
A twitch of a change and instead of charging without focus they switch to charging and then launching themselves at the wheels in an attempt to either ground us out or jam the wheels up. They’ve done this before and it almost worked but their numbers were nowhere near what they have now. They can afford to sacrifice hundreds at a time and still have so many left.
On they come faster and harder as we sweep down battering them away from the front of the buildings. The sides ping from the impacts as they swarm in greater numbers towards the passenger side desperately trying to use sheer weight of bodies to grind the Saxon into the wall. I can feel the pressure being applied and just see a blur of bodies coming in so fast I can’t do anything but try and hold a straight line. Corrections on the steering wheel forcing the Saxon out from the wall but still the engine roars and we sweep them away with brutal efficiency to burst clear on the far side and I turn hard easing the power off and coming round in a wide circle as Dave twists on the gun to keep firing into heads that pop and explode.
Straightened up now and I go for another run but hold a course just away from the building line and build the power back up accelerating hard but even I can see they’ve rallied and become too dense to get through. I steer right aiming to the edge and they follow suit to surge into my path. I steer harder right but they keep rushing over. Hitting bodies again now and I ease power, turn hard left and slam my foot back down forcing a path through the incredibly thick hordes.
Meredith barking like crazy. Clarence still pushing his hands against the front and Dave firing controlled bursts. We kill so many but what we gain is insignificant in terms of what they have. We carve another path following a veering snaking route through the square and wrenching a solid metal bench from its fixtures that gets pinned to the front and acts like a bladed scoop that snaps legs with ease.
‘GO ON,’ Clarence booms slamming a hand down urging me to punch on. The longer we can keep this up the more the vehicle and Dave can kill and the more time we buy for Reginald to find us a way out.
We snake, power on, turn hard left then hard right but they get organised and again start coming in with frightening power slamming into the sides so hard one after the other that it affects the steerage. They come again for the front diving head first and bodily into the front wheels. At one point the Saxon loses grip as the front passenger wheel is taken from the ground from the press of bodies but I steer hard the other way and with my foot down to the floor we grind out and away. This time I aim for the crossroads and the chance of any empty road. Everywhere I look more are pouring from buildings into the streets. Heads bursting apart but not enough. I gain the crossroads punching free of the dense packed hordes and driving down then slowing to start the turn in the road. About face we come until we’re aimed back at the square.
‘Be ready,’ I shout knowing this is the last run before the Saxon gets grounded out.
‘You can’t leave Paula and Charlie in here against this lot,’ Clarence says as I start accelerating back towards the square.
‘Yep, agreed.’
‘Hear that?’ Clarence says twisting round, ‘Charlie and Paula with us…Dave get that GPMG down…’
‘Barrel is too hot,’ Dave shouts, ‘it cannot be touched.’
‘Bollocks,’ Clarence curses, ‘lads get some water up to Dave, cool that barrel and
find some thick rags to hold it with.’
‘No time,’ I shout.
‘Make time, we need it.’
‘Easier said than done, mate.’
*
Neal stares dumbly at the screen watching the swathes of infected being killed by the army vehicle ploughing crazily along the building line. His own mind trying to make sense of the things he is seeing. Driving into such a thing is the first thought in his mind. How brave does someone have to be to do that? But it punches through killing so many but the sight that holds him frozen with his mouth gaping is the small man firing the machine gun on top the vehicle. It took Neal a few seconds to make sense of what he was seeing. Pink explosions puffing silently into the air one after the other until suddenly the penny dropped and the connection was made. That man was firing into their heads. Which is not possible. It is beyond possible. Therefore, if something is not possible then it is impossible. This is fact. This is science. But no, right there, in front of his own eyes there are heads exploding with a burst of brains, bones and blood hanging in the space where the body was before it either slumped down or flew back.
Is this it? Is this what they do? Drive into the infected and shoot them through the head? No. He saw the firing lines and the use of bladed weapons and attack dogs but that vehicle doesn’t look big enough to hold scores of troops. So many thoughts mingle and merge with a sight taken in and one that evolves too quickly to keep up with.
‘Exit route…exit route…’ Reginald mutters, ‘safe place…’
‘What er,’ Neal goes to speak but finds his mouth suddenly very dry. Coughing he tries again, ‘what are they doing?’ He asks meekly.
‘Hmmm? Oh right, yes…they’re clearing that building line so they can have safe ingress into it. From there they will group the survivors together and…damnation,’ he says staring up at the screen and watching the formations taken by the infected persons flinging themselves at the Saxon.
The visual effect is staggering. Human bodies moving faster than thought possible with cohesion and purpose and throwing themselves in deathly sacrifice at the wheels that churn them into mangled corpses.
Neal feels his stomach heave and churn at the sight of limbs being sheered and bodies torn apart. Blood everywhere that pools thick on the ground before being stomped through by the next horde surging on.
‘No no no,’ Reginald mutters to himself again but knowing deep inside there is now another person with him so falling back into the habit of verbalising his thought processes, ‘see, see that…’
‘See what?’ Neal asks.
‘The formations and methods they are using. They’re too fast and charged. No no no, this will not do. The second that vehicles comes to a stop they will be swarmed. What to do? Think, Reginald, think.’
‘Where, I mean, sorry. Where will they stop?’
‘I should imagine I will direct them to aim for that first building, once inside they can work through to the other end but not like this. Are you seeing this? Look at the speed they are moving at. I tell you now they will swarm that vehicle the second it stops.’
‘So…you…’ Neal stares at the screen switching his mind to the immediate task and problem presented. Cling onto that one problem. Forget the hundreds of other things and focus on this one thing now. ‘Clear them away,’ he says dumbly, ‘I see. The army truck will stop but you are worried the infected host bodies will swarm them before the soldiers get into that door?’
‘Correct. They may have to draw them out before they can even attempt such a thing,’ Reginald says reaching for the radio. ‘Mr Howie, I am watching the formations they are using. Do not stop yet. I repeat do not stop yet. They are too many. You will get swarmed. Lead them away.’
‘Yep heard that. We’re going in now.’
‘Mr Howie! You cannot see what I can see. You must draw them out…Mr Howie…’
‘Find a way out, Reginald. We’ll get inside.’
‘Oh good God the man does not listen!’
‘Yeah I do and I heard that…’
‘If you must go now then go for the first door. First door…’
*
‘First door it is then,’ I mutter darkly. We’re facing the way we need to go but reversing down the road away from the square while the lads pass bottles of water up to Dave who pours them over the barrel of the machine gun.
‘He’s getting it down,’ Nick shouts.
‘Eh?’
‘The GPMG, Dave’s got it down.’
‘Give it to Clarence, is it loaded?’
‘Yep, fresh one in.’
‘Everyone ready?’ I shout taking the Saxon out of reverse and bringing her to a stop, ‘hard now,’ I say quietly, ‘hard….hear me? Hard in…get inside that first door. Fuck it, here goes,’ I slam my foot down and feel the instant pull of the engine thrumming louder with increasing pitch until it’s screaming out as we charge at the infected charging at us. Human matter against hard steel. Organic against man-made and fuck the lot but we mow them down with barely a jolt on the chassis. Bodies splatting with sickening squelches and the sounds of bones snapping as we gain speed aiming for the first building on the road bordering the square.
‘HARD,’ I shout and feel that burning energy banging to be released. It wants out. It wants carnage and destruction. It needs violence and to be satiated with the death of these foul things that we plough through like a hot knife through butter. The Saxon ramming them down and to the sides. Up the kerb and I anchor on the brakes slewing the back end in a fishtail slide that kills more infected from the momentum gained.
We come to a lurching halt with the rear doors bursting open and the sound of assault rifles firing on full automatic. Clarence heaves the GPMG over the seat, kicks his door open and drops down with a roar that is blotted out by the sudden drumming of the heavy machine gun fired from the hip and I’m out into the chaos and it’s like being hit by a train. An overwhelming surge of infected charging with such deranged violence we instantly get pushed towards the building line. Eleven assault rifles emptying thirty round magazines and a heavy machine gun blatting through a belt of large calibre bullets but all we do is gain seconds by the bodies that fall and impede those behind. Into a circle we fall back getting pushed towards the door and there isn’t time to form cohesion or a plan, there isn’t time to shout orders or get organised but we fight to stay alive and the size of this force finally hits home. Meredith pinned between Nick’s legs but she seems to understand now that it’s not her time to fight but to wait with Nick.
Seconds into the battle and it’s already desperate. We cannot change magazines fast enough. We cannot fire enough bullets. Scores are killed and gunned down but for every infected shot ten more are ready to take its place. We can’t break position or even make for the doorway not ten feet behind us for fear of being overrun. All we can do is fire and fire but God only knows we’ve got seconds before they surge so hard we’ll be annihilated.
‘Dave…do something,’ Paula screams as she changes magazine and once again we pin all our hopes on one small man. The GPMG expends the final rounds in the belt is dropped on the spot as Clarence pulls his rifle round to use and instantly just that fractional reduction in firepower shows as a fresh energy pulses through them.
‘HOLD THEM,’ Dave shouts and he’s away, running low to the side and into the dense ranks where his true home of close combat is and where nothing can touch him. Again the loss of his rifle firing into the oncoming hordes shows and back we go again stepping as one with a carpet of dead bodies already stretching in front. Our shots are wild and panicked. Not aimed for head shots but hoping the sheer volume of bullets thrown will hold them back but crawlers are made and they inch towards us forcing us to divide our attention from the standing to the sliding.
‘MEREDITH,’ I roar knowing she can’t understand, knowing there is no way of communicating our desperate need for her skills but by fuck she responds and the shock is enough to make me double take as she whips out from
between Nick’s legs and staying low she slaughters the crawlers with ease as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a chill runs down my spine.
‘WE DO NOT YIELD,’ I roar changing magazine to slam a fresh one in, ‘WE HOLD…’
‘Charlie, change the magazine in the GPMG,’ Clarence orders taking her rifle from her to fire both his and hers with ease. She drops down heaving the gun towards her while avoiding the piping hot barrel and working quickly to feed a fresh belt into it.
Something in our manner. A stiffening of resolve that shakes off the immediate shock of the ferocity of the attack and we become the thing they hate so much. A unit that works as one with every angle covered and every person holding their space with grim determination showing on their faces.
An explosion rips through a dense pocket not twenty feet away but the sheer weight of bodies between us and the sound means we have no idea of the source or reason. Then another, a huge bang that sends a ripple of percussive shockwave through the undead in front of us. A second, maybe two seconds then a third blast and they come faster until Dave appears on the opposite side of where he ran off.
With almost casual movements he bites the pin from a grenade and lobs it into the crowd then spins as ever graceful and slides into a space created and again bites a pin and lobs the bomb before slinking out of view into the ranks.
Grenades explode one after the other creating gaps and holes which in turn cause confusion. Bodies and body parts fly into the air. Bang. Bang. Bang. Blood and guts showering down as he works a line about seven ranks back knowing the human forms between him and us will protect our group from the shrapnel.
The hive mind reacts. We all see it. Hundreds of infected in our view and as one they abruptly turn and start pushing the other direction.
‘They going for Dave?’ Cookey shouts.
‘Must be,’ I say.
He snorts and changes magazine, ‘good luck with that you dumb fuckers ah fuck’s sake, Blinky that went on my bloody boots.’
She retches again puking down as Cookey hops away before standing upright and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, ‘don’t stand so close then dickhead.’