by RR Haywood
‘Door,’ I say to Clarence.
‘GET IN…QUICK GET IN.’
We spin round pointing our weapons at the man holding the door open who yelps and runs back in fright at our sudden explosive turn towards him.
‘In, go…DAVE…’
‘Coming, Mr Howie,’ his dull voice sails clear and unhurried, almost relaxed as he goes about his work.
We continue firing into the backs of the infected all trying like idiots to get to the same place that Dave is at. Or that he was at. Or where they think he will be next except it doesn’t work that way with Dave. With the pressure eased we aim better and with such close proximity we get clear head shots and outright kills. Paula goes first, running into the doorway with her rifle aimed and sweeping as the petrified man goes back further into the hallway and trips on the base of the stairs. Marcy after her as we fall back. Charlie heaving the heavy machine gun up and running back with Blinky. One by one we get through until just Clarence and I remain outside.
‘DAVE…NOW…’ I hold my aim and shout while scouring the ranks for a glimpse of him.
‘Yes, Mr Howie,’ he says softly from my immediate right as he walks smartly between Clarence and me through the door.
‘Gotta love him,’ Clarence mutters rolling his eyes.
*
Neal watches the Saxon slew to a stop then the small group burst from the doors already firing into the infected host bodies. His heart in his mouth and despite being one mile away sat in a van in a peaceful location outside a farmhouse he feels a release of adrenalin, fear, terror, hope and utter shock all mingling into one incredible rush of emotions that renders him mute and unable to do anything other than gawp.
‘Gosh,’ Reginald tuts disdainful with a dramatic roll of his eyes, ‘really they do not listen. I said this would happen. I really did. It is exactly as I predicted but do they listen? No they do not. Now what will they do? I ask you? Hmmm? What are they going to do now?’
‘They’ll be killed,’ Neal whispers unable to draw his eyes from the small group now holding a tight horseshoe shape with their backs towards the buildings. The drone shows perfect clarity but no sound so without the explosive bangs of the assault rifles and the heavy thud of the GPMG he has but one sense to view them in and his eyes work hard to take it all in. Instantly he spots a giant of a man standing with legs planted apart firing a huge machine gun one handed while clutching a sledgehammer in the other. The man is enormous with shoulders like boulders and a gleaming bald head. Not like a body builder with defined muscle but just big, very bloody big. A dark skinned young man possible Arabic in ethnicity and young too, maybe eighteen. Slight build but the expression on his face is one of utter violent intent and the way he holds the assault rifle is like watching a professional soldier. They all do it. The speed they fire, adjust aim and fire then shout something as they work with almost blurred speed to change magazines. A tall lean man standing close to a pretty woman with dark hair. A squat looking young lady mouthing what he can only assume are obscenities at the infected. Three young men, one dark haired with a stern expression and a blond haired lad beside him and the third has an enormous German Shepherd held between his legs. The dog is going back, lunging tiny motions while barking with her lips pulled up to show big teeth. Two very attractive women, one younger with a slimmer more athletic frame and the other with a fuller more curvaceous figure. Then a small man and unlike the others that all show expressions on their faces this man is flat. He shows nothing but somehow looks very calm like this is something he has done thousands of times before.
‘HIM!’ Neal shouts finally resting his eyes on the dark haired man he saw in the village of Finkton.
‘Hmm? That’s Mr Howie,’ Reginald says, ‘who doesn’t listen to the advice I give.’
‘He’s immune,’ Neal blurts.
‘Yes indeed. They probably all are.’
‘What?’
‘What? They probably all are.’
‘But…I mean…what?’
‘Er, see the three young men stood close to each other? They are immune. In fact Nicholas only found out today which was nice for him.
‘What!?’
‘Oh yes, he got bit and scratched. Very alarming and I’m given to understand it was a momentary loss of focus but I should imagine he was excited at the time due to the prospect of getting into Maplin.’
‘Maplin?’ Neal whimpers.
‘Yes, Maplin. Er, shall I point them out to you?’
‘But…they’re…oh my god! They’re going to get killed…’
‘Gosh no, they’ll do something in a minute. I don’t know why I get so worked up really I don’t. Let me see, the big one is Clarence, very nice man but he does get somewhat cross at times. That is Paula, lovely lady but can be very patronising and she’s like a mother hen to this group. That is Charlotte and Patricia who goes by the name of Blinky because, well she blinks a lot. Hockey players. Indeed, very athletic young ladies that were trialling for the England hockey team. We only met them yesterday but they seem to be fitting in very well. Charlotte in particular is highly intelligent. The four young chaps are Simon, Alex and Nick… they are known as Blowers, Cookey and er…well Nick respectively and the last one is Mohammed who prefers to be called Mo Mo. That small man is Dave. Er, gosh how to describe Dave? Well he is…he is er…well I am sure you will see for yourself momentarily. The last two are Marcy, the woman here and Mr Howie who is the leader of this band of intrepid, foolhardy, immature, caustic, sarcastic, unlistening people that collectively are, without doubt, the most stupid but also the most dangerous people in this country I should imagine. Oh and that’s Meredith. She’s a dog.’
‘Dog.’
‘Yes. A dog. Oh see here,’ Reginald says pointing at the screen, ‘Dave is moving off. Let’s watch him shall we and you will soon see what I mean.’
It’s too much. The whole of it is too much. From the bird’s eye view Neal can see thousands of infected host bodies pushing and driving towards a very small group of people but somehow that small group are holding them off. How? His mind needs to understand reasoning and causality. To glance and it appears impossible but that is not the case. Thousands against a few. Thousands pressing forward. The small group holding them off. Thousands against a few. Ah yes, yes a pattern shows. The size of the numbers attacking is almost irrelevant for the front line they present to the few can only ever be of a finite size and yes, now he looks he starts to see order within the chaos. The infected that get killed drop down which in turn cause obstacles to those still coming forward.
He blanches in shock as the dog whips out from between the legs of the man holding her and starts racing between the crawlers snapping her jaws onto their throat before giving a very fast wrench and away to the next one.
‘Watch Dave,’ Reginald says tapping the screen lightly. Neal looks but immediately pulls an expression of puzzlement at what he is seeing. A line of falling bodies within the horde. Falling down. Yes, like dominoes falling one after the other. He leans closer seeing sprays of blood shooting into the air and catching glimpse of the small man weaving through them with a speed that defies what a person should be able to do. He goes to the army vehicle and disappears inside. Some of the infected go in after him but then fall back out just as quickly as they enter. The small man, Dave? Yes Dave. He appears at the back doors holding a bag and staring for the briefest of seconds up at the drone before dropping back down and once again weaving through the dense lines.
He zooms in operating the controller to adjust the camera as he tracks Dave and watches as the man pushes his hand into the bag, pulls something out and appears to take a bite from it before throwing it away. A few seconds later and several bodies explode up into the air.
‘Ah yes,’ Reginald says knowingly, ‘Dave is using grenades.’
One after the other the man takes a bite, lobs the thing away and pushes on as explosions detonate holes within the horde. Confusion is created with infected trying to turn
in towards the man slipping through them. Then they all turn. All of them. With precision and absolute purpose of movement they turn in to the direction of the man and start pushing towards that location. Except the man keeps moving through, round, under and over them until finally breaking free on one side and strolling towards the two left outside the building and walking between them like nothing happened.
Neal releases the breath he had been holding. Exhaling long and noisily still unable to bring his mind to accept the things he has just seen.
‘Just them,’ he croaks.
‘Sorry, what was that?’ Reginald asks feeling somewhat more confident now there is someone else more panicked and flustered than he is.
‘Just them,’ Neal says again nodding at the screen.
‘Well yes,’ Reginald says unsure of the comment, ‘did you think there were more?’
Neal nods, shallow but then firmer as he recalls the scenes of carnage while following the route through the towns and villages.
‘How many?’ He asks still in that croaking voice.
‘Fourteen of us including myself and Meredith.’
Fourteen. Immune. Some? All? One dog. Not the army. Not officers and soldiers with order and structure. Again it is not possible that so few can kill so many.
‘This must be very shocking,’ Reginald says staring at Neal with what he hopes is a sympathetic look, ‘but I’m afraid we don’t have time to delay. We must find them a way out.’
Neal blinks and draws a deep steadying inhalation of air, ‘how can I help?’
*
I’m the last through and dive forward while Clarence slams the door closed and starts ramming the newly fitted heavy-duty bolts home and Nick hefts a big strip of iron that he clangs down into brackets bolted into the wall that form a solid bar across the door.
‘Up,’ I give the order as Blowers takes point and charges up the stairs with his rifle aimed and ready. We thunder up with our solid boots drumming on the wooden boards. A hard turn and we push through a doorway into the main room with the large bay window full of people cowering in fear. Men and women holding children and more coming from other rooms.
We sweep into their lives with the fury of battle in our movements and quickly assess the layout of the room. Large and open plan with a doorway leading to a kitchen area and another going into a bedroom at the back. In the hallway the stairs lead down and another set go up to the second floor.
‘Everyone stay calm and do exactly as we say,’ Paula comes into her own staring face to face and nodding reassuringly, ‘we’ll get you out but you must stay calm and listen. Is that understood?’
Nods all round. Relief mingled with terror and complete shock that renders them silent and almost witless.
‘Anyone upstairs?’ She asks. I watch the responses as they glance to each other still too stunned to respond.
‘Nick, take Mo check the top floor. Bring any survivors down. Blowers, get everyone at that window ready to stop them coming in…’
‘Coming in?’ A man asks in horror backing away from the window.
‘Yep, they will,’ I say quickly, ‘Clarence, internal wall.’
‘On it,’ he says striding into the hallway with the sledgehammer gripped in his hands.
‘Who is in charge here?’ Paula asks.
‘You are,’ the man backing away from the window wails as Cookey snorts in laughter then promptly apologises at the glare sent his way from Paula.
‘I think they’ve realised Dave isn’t with them,’ Blowers says peeking down.
‘Drone is there,’ Cookey says waving through the glass
‘Reginald, we’re in,’ I say into my shirt while pushing the button down, ‘Paula, get everyone together in the hallway.’
‘Mr Howie, yes I can see Alex waving at me. How many are there?’
‘Charlie, head count them.’
‘Eight, Mr Howie,’ she replies having already done it.
‘Ooh she’s quick,’ Cookey quips.
‘Quick as fuck,’ Blowers mutters.
‘Upstairs clear,’ Nick says jumping the last few steps with Mo behind him, ‘hi, I’m Nick,’ he says politely to the terrified people being ushered into the hallway.
‘Smooth, Nick,’ Blowers shouts.
‘Enough,’ I say, ‘Reginald, we’ve got eight in here. Clarence is going for the internal wall.’
‘Understood, Mr Howie.’
‘What are you doing?’ The same man asks Clarence and thereby offering himself up as the spokesperson.
‘Listen, mate,’ I say striding over, ‘Blinky, get glasses of water to everyone while we’ve got the chance. Bowl for the dog. Nick, Mo, find missiles to throw down…lads, get that window smashed out and shoot the fuckers while we’ve got the chance. Dave? You got any grenades left?’
‘We should save them.’
‘Yeah good idea. Right, mate. Listen in, we’ve got a drone outside and we saw this whole row of buildings have people inside them. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ he blurts.
‘Good. You been here since it began?’
‘Er, yes we have. Er…we lived here, well some did and some…well some left and some others arrived but…’
‘Excuse me,’ Marcy says butting in politely, ‘this is Mr Howie, you might have heard of him?’
Clever woman and that one question changes everything as every head snaps to look at me then at Clarence as realisation starts to dawn.
‘We have,’ the man says staring at me, ‘you have a fort…we were thinking of going there…’
‘Howie, I’ll take care of this with Paula. You go…’ she says nodding to the window.
I don’t know why but just having that one less thing to worry about and not having to try and prise information from terrified people seems to take a great weight off my shoulders and with an instinctive response I lean in and plant a kiss on her cheek, ‘you are bloody awesome, listen to Marcy and Paula,’ I say to the man before striding off towards the window, ‘righto, that sofa looks heavy…’
‘Yeah no problem,’ she says taken aback from the display of affection, ‘er…well,’ she says blowing air out through her cheeks, ‘that’s got me all flummoxed.’
‘Huh?’ The man whimpers again.
‘Oh right, yes…so there are eight of you in here. That big man is Clarence, he’s going to beat that wall down and we’ll go through the buildings to the end.’
‘Okay…yes okay. What, what should we do?’
I get to the window zoning out from the conversation between Marcy and the man and Paula in the hallway doing the same to the others.
‘Starting,’ Clarence booms a split second before a dull thud vibrates the walls as he starts whacking the sledgehammer into the wall.
Below us the infected certainly have realised Dave is no longer blowing them up and have turned back towards the building line and commenced the surge towards us.
‘Smash these windows out,’ I say and get to the sofa that I start pushing towards the window, ‘get anything heavy we can launch down.’
‘Boss,’ Nick says opening a dark wood cabinet to reveal bottles of spirits.
‘Yep, do it…but throw them deep.’
‘Fuck yes,’ Nick grins grabbing the first bottle, ‘need rags, cloths…anything we can shove in the top.’
‘You making Molotov’s?’ Mo asks.
‘Yeah.’
‘Let me,’ he says taking the bottle from Nick, ‘I done loads of these.’
‘I bet you fucking have. Blinky, get some bedding from the bedroom.’
‘What for?’
‘For the…just get it.’
‘Alright,’ she snaps rushing into the bedroom, ‘get some water, feed the dog…get some bedding…’she mutters grabbing the duvet off the bed and pulling it back into the front room, ‘this do it?’
I jump away from the sound of breaking glass and turn to see Blowers, Cookey and Roy raking the windows out with their rifles.
‘Charlie,’ Blowers shouts amidst the craziness of everyone shouting and running about, ‘where’s the GPMG?’
‘Out here, I’ll bring it,’ she runs into the room carrying the machine gun that Blowers props on the window sill and aims down.
‘Mr Howie? Okay?’
‘Yeah go for it.’
The gun fires up with strafing bursts slamming down into the packed hordes now raging at the bottom of the building as cloth is torn into strips and stuffed into bottle necks before being lit by Mo and carried to the window with thick black smoke coiling up.
He pauses to lean out and throws the bottle down which bursts apart with flames spreading as the alcohol ignites.
‘Next,’ Nick says handing him a bottle of whiskey. He slams them down spreading his shots to cause the most effect while Blowers fire into the horde.
‘Mr Howie,’ Roy brings my attention round to him pointing at the sofa.
‘Yep,’ I get over and grasp the other end. Together we lift and run it the last few steps to launch through the window snapping through the thin wooden frames. A heavy three seater Chesterfield no doubt worth a few grand but it does the job and several are taken down. We burst back into the room grabbing everything with weight and throwing it out. It doesn’t do much and maybe we get a few kills but a lot more get broken legs and snapped bones which reduces the massed ability to push forward so fast.
‘COMING UP,’ Mo shouts launching the next bottle down. I get over and lean through to see them doing what I feared and piling by throwing themselves into mounds that get higher as they climb up.
‘Clarence…we’ve got to move…’
‘He’s almost through,’ Marcy says running into the room, ‘survivors in every building along this line and one family opposite.’
‘Fuck it,’ I snarl looking over the heaving expanse of square to the buildings on the other side, ‘we’ll try.’
‘They’ve been here since it began and have had little contact,’ she says quickly, ‘altogether there’s about forty five.’