by RR Haywood
The situation is critical and everyone knows it. Cookey firing into the hordes pouring into the hole with Blowers knelt at his side feeding the belt and ready to give cover when it needs changing.
Dave at the window with Howie firing down into the infected crawling up the pyramid of human forms and Roy at the back of the room arrow nocked and ready to fire his bow should any get through. Nick and Mo making Molotovs with Blinky tearing rags up while Charlie and Paula form a guard on the petrified people cowering low against the wall in the room Clarence works.
Marcy walks back into the main room pausing to look through the hallway to Cookey and Blowers working the machine gun. She drops her bag and draws a bottle of Lucozade that’s warm and flat but full of glucose. To the lads she goes dropping to a crouch and holding the bottle to Blowers’ lips first and letting him guzzle the drink.
‘Cheers,’ he says pulling his head back, ‘do Cookey.’
‘I wish,’ Cookey still jokes knowing the situation is becoming desperate and feels the bottle being pressed to his lips. A turn of the head and he angles to slurp it down, ‘cheers, Marcy….tell Mr Howie we’ll need some rifles on this section in a minute when the belt runs out.’
‘Will do,’ she pats him on the shoulder rising to her feet and rushing back into the room, ‘Howie, the belt’s almost out. They need more guns.’
‘Take Charlie and go,’ Howie shouts firing his rifle down.
‘With you,’ Charlie runs from the bedroom following Marcy back to the lads.
‘This is fucking nuts,’ Howie snarls the words taking a second to lean out and look down the road to the mounds growing larger and higher by the minute and the square still full to the brim of infected.
Something has to give. Something has to be done. They’re already through the first window and almost at the second and only being held off by Dave and Howie firing sustained into them. The third window will only be a few more minutes then they will be pressed in on three sides plus the danger of the infected getting through the street door.
Howie grimaces trying to think of a way and knowing there must be. There is always a way but right now the hopes are diminishing as fast as the heat is rising.
‘MOLOTOVS,’ Mo shouts the warning joining Howie at his side and launching the bottles down at the base of the pyramid. Another one goes down thrown by Blinky and more follow as the street comes aflame with acrid smoke billowing up. The infected pass through the flames unhindered as they catch alight. They cough and retch as humans would but do not feel the pain or discomfort as humans should. Instead they push on aflame and ignited to climb up and dutifully lie down while inside the rooms of the buildings people scream and cower clutching knives and meat cleavers as they prepare to defend their loved ones against the thousands of infected that have infested their town this day.
*
Neal goes fast. Pushing his foot and feeling the power of the diesel engine driving the wheels. A heavy vehicle but designed well and he stares ahead at the road wishing he’d had time to make a diary entry. What would he say? That he’d found the professional soldiers and not only discovered they were not professional soldiers but they were all immune and only numbered fourteen which included a dog.
No matter. They must survive but even he could see the hopeless peril they were in. Even if only one can get out it might be enough. There will be more and it will mean scouring the land searching through the list but he must try. After all, isn’t this why he left the project and took refuge from the world? Isn’t this the reason he turned himself into a fugitive knowing they would be hunting him? To do this. To be prepared and try and right the wrong so inflicted on this world.
In the back Reginald operates the drone holding it static in the sky while using the camera to zoom into the mounds as he tries to detect a weakness but the mounds are thickly layered at the base and only getting narrower towards the top and he gives a reluctant nod of respect to the infection for the shape it has chosen to use. Fear grips him. Downright and outright terror at what they are doing but there is a grim determination there too. That suddenly he can fend that fear off and stop it gripping him completely. Seeing Howie and Marcy and those few go into something so awful yet doing it willingly with smiling faces. Maybe some of that has rubbed off and left a mark on him or maybe deep down he knows his species is threatened and so even he, an abject coward, rises to the challenge. Well, maybe not rising to the challenge but at least not turning round and running the other direction while gibbering in fear.
Fire engines. How do they work? They hold water that must come out at volume so there must be an internal pumping system that sucks the water from the tank and drives it into the hose. He thinks hard to anytime he has seen a fire engine on the street or on television and the fact they always leave the engines running. That must provide the power to pump the water but surely there will be a complicated set of dials and buttons?
‘Roundabout ahead, Reginald.’
‘Go straight on, er…the fire station is on the right. You’ll see the yellow cross hatching on the road in front of it.’
What about the drone! Oh gosh he frets now at the small details of what to do with the flying object. A roof. Yes land it somewhere and let it wait there. Where though? He scours the rooftops knowing they will be at the fire station any second and spots a wide gully between two gently sloping roofs. Gently now and he guides the drone over and down, dropping height as he brings the thing into land while remembering Charlie repeating Nick’s words that the legs on the drone are designed to withstand impact.
‘We’re here,’ Neal calls out bringing the van speed down, ‘er, how do we get in?’
‘No idea,’ Reginald mutters smiling to himself as the drone is brought down safely into the gully. He powers the camera off remotely to save power and puts the drone into sleep mode.
‘The doors unlocked,’ Neal shouts through the open driver door that Reginald didn’t realise had opened.
Reginald goes to leave rushing to the back doors before pulling up short and rushing back to grab the two assault rifles and then back down and out through the doors into the appalling heat. Huffing and puffing he runs over cursing his own bad luck and lack of fitness but secretly glad he’s still wearing the wicking top and not a shirt and tie in this heat.
He pushes through the gap left in the sliding door by Neal and faces the huge monstrous red gleaming fire engine that stands so tall and so wide and so…just so big. How on earth do they even drive something like that?
Neal gets to the side and fumbles for the release catch on the metal shutter that slams up to reveal a gleaming clean array of dials, small wheels and levers. A thick spout in the middle must be where the hose is connected. Where is the hose?
‘Hose?’ Neal mumbles staring at the sides of the vehicle.
‘Yours I believe?’ Reginald says politely holding out the M4 assault rifle.
‘Oh thanks, I must stop leaving it about. Have you seen the hose by any chance?’
‘The hose? Is it not there?’
‘Well, I’ve found this control panel and I can only assume this thick spout is where the hose connects but damned if I can actually see a hose.’
‘Oh there must be one somewhere,’ Reginald says standing back and spotting the release lever on the next shutter that he grabs and releases. ‘Ah we have tools,’ he says nodding respectfully at the neatly ordered way the tools are all stacked, ‘it’s very clean,’ he remarks.
‘Yes I thought that,’ Neal replies, ‘what about that next shutter?’
‘Oh this one? Oh yes, er, this appears to be a hose or several hoses in fact. Do they come in different sizes?’
‘Do you know I have no idea,’ Neal says, ‘the spout is one size so perhaps they are to increase the length?’
‘Oh now that is a wise suggestion,’ Reginald says, ‘and looking at the remarkable way this is organised I would say the first hose on the left is the main connecting one. Does that sound right to you?’
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‘Well it makes sense to me,’ Neal says. ‘How do we get the water out?’
‘Ah now I was thinking this same thing on the way here. They always leave the engine running don’t they.’
‘Oh yes they do, yes of course. So the main engine must provide the power for the pump mechanism. What about the facility to actually draw the water from the tank?’
‘Well, I may not know but I know two men who will,’ Reginald says reaching for his radio then remembering he’s not at his desk and the radio is inside the van, on his desk, which he isn’t at. ‘Oh, well let’s have a look shall we?’
‘I think this one must be the display for the tank er…level? Is that the right word?’
‘Yes I know what you mean, as in how much water is left in the tank?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, indeed I would agree,’ Reginald says, ‘what about that next one? What does it say?’
‘Er, it says pressure. Ah so that must be the pressure and the wheel underneath must be turned to increase or decrease the pressure.’
‘Wow, we’re doing really very well,’ Reginald says, ‘is there an on switch?’
‘Well I don’t know. What about this lever? Shall I pull it down?’
‘Yes, pull it down and see what happens. Ah nothing happens. Perhaps it’s only activated when the engine is on.’
‘Ah yes we said the engine should be on,’ Neal says, ‘right well, shall we then? Would you like to drive?’
‘Oh I’m not a confident driver,’ Reginald says, ‘perhaps you would care to take the wheel.’
‘I will certainly try. It’s a steep climb up.’
‘It is somewhat,’ Reginald says scurrying round the other side and clambering up the step to open the door.
‘Well at least they’ve left the keys in the ignition,’ Neal says, ‘what a relief, it’s automatic. You know I was worried about how many gears there would be. Well, here goes, fingers crossed.’
The engine starts first time. A whir, a cough and it rumbles to life proving the high safety record and maintenance of the fire service.
Neal releases the handbrake, eases forward and hits the side of the engine on the side of the sliding doors that get ripped clean from their hinges and dragged into the road, ‘damn it,’ Neal curses, ‘I do apologise.’
‘Wait!’ Reginald shouts knowing he must get his radio. He drops back down and runs to the back of the van, steps up, rushes across, grabs the radio and rushes back through the heat and up into the cabin where he slumps into the seat breathing hard, ‘do go on…straight up this road and turn left into the square.’
*
We are fucked. Royally and completely fucked. We shoot down and drop heavy things and set them on fire but still they come getting faster and meaner every bloody shitty pissing minute. This is fucking hopeless.
‘Get everyone in here,’ I shout, ‘quickly, they’re almost at the window.’ I lean out and see the next window is near on ready to be breached and hoping the infected at the bottom of the mounds are getting squashed flat.
No way out. Trapped on three sides. The window. The hole we came through and now the other building we’ve just punched into. People come screaming into the bedroom to get ushered into the kitchen and lounge. Men and women, boys and girls, young and old that were getting by in their little town until we decided to fuck it up for them. We did this. I did this. I made the infection come here to meet us without ever thinking there might be people here.
There is no divine intervention now. There is no back-up or escape plan. There is no fall back point. All the exits are blocked with numbers so vast that not even Dave could stop them and that single thought sends a shiver of fear through me. Dave is unstoppable. He is beyond human in what he can do but even he cannot salvage this. He’ll survive and if he chooses he could walk away unscathed except I know he won’t. He’ll either put a bullet through his own brain the second I drop dead or he’ll just keep going until eventually even he will tire.
I search for an answer where there is none. If Dave, Clarence and me went down we might be able to clear this mound but that won’t stop the other mounds from getting to the windows.
With a sudden change in pace the infected surge faster and harder up this mound. Thick lines scrabbling up the newly formed stepping stones of broken bodies and such is the wave coming at us that as one we step back. A roaring howl comes with them. Like a signal that passes through their ranks until the whole of them are charging with unabated malice.
‘CLARENCE,’ I scream his name at the last second as the light is blocked from the window by the infected pouring through and this is it. This is the final stand. They’ve gained this window.
I just have time to drop the bag from my shoulders and lift my axe as the first one comes lurching at me. He goes down easy with his head rolling across the floor and the screams of the survivors behind me only add to the incredible din inside this room.
We fight plunged into a darker, muggier, super-heated space that is confined and dangerous.
Clarence runs into the room slamming the sledgehammer into four grown adult male undead with such force it sends all four of them back out through the broken window giving us a brief flash of daylight. Dave lunges left and right refusing to any let get past him. Roy runs into the fray with his sword out and starts slashing wildly.
Blowers, Nick and Cookey run in and thank fuck they do because right now we need every pair of hands just to keep them back and as I get thrown back I glance down the hallway to see Blinky firing the GPMG with Charlie at her side.
‘ON ME,’ I bellow and push back into the fray, ‘FORM A LINE ON ME…’
Mo at my side fighting like a demon and doing what Dave told him by protecting me and the surge of admiration I feel for him gives me a greater strength to rally and push back. Blowers and Cookey get to the other side. Nick beside them. Meredith at his side. Clarence next to Mo and then Dave at the far end completeing our straight line.
‘ON…PUSH ON…’ I drive forward slamming my axe into them again and again, ‘DO NOT YIELD…’
‘BLINKY…get in here,’ Paula runs down to take over the GPMG allowing another brutally violent fighter to join us and the stocky woman comes sprinting with her axe held ready as she finds space to fight forward. We hack and cut and slam. We punch and headbutt and get hit. We get struck and we bleed but like bastards we fight that line and with snarling grunts of exertion we start trying to force them back but still they come through that window adding weight to those opposing us.
Tiny movements now in this restricted space and the axe is no good so I ditch it behind me draw my knife and start stabbing anything in front of me. I hear the clang of our longer shaft melee weapons being ditched and it’s down to this. Dirty fighting with knives in closer combat than we have ever known. Our hands and wrists become saturated with blood and mouths snap at our faces. A female sinks her teeth into my hand as I stab the one next to her. I lash out breaking her nose with my other hand then headbutt the one I stabbed to drive him back.
Blood everywhere spraying into my face and soaking me bodily. Mo moving so fast with his right arm a blur of frenzied stabbing as he puckers stomachs and chests. Blowers loses his knife in the skull of a body that drops and instantly his hands come up and he drops into a boxers stance slamming hard jabs and swings into faces breaking jaws and noses.
Meredith lunges and slams them back able to use her body weight and the power of her legs. I see her drop down, bunch and spring forward and each time she does so they go back a foot. She does it again. Down, bunch and tense then explode and as her head reaches their neck so she bites and removes the flesh.
Fuck it. Works for her so I try it. I drop back, tense and explode into them with a snarling fury and into the neck I sink my teeth and wrench back. I do it again, down and explode up and into them. I do it again getting more explosive and gaining more power with each try. Back they go. Just my few in front of me but I get them back. It’s only
inches I gain but right now inches are all we can hope for.
I drop down sensing Mo at my side and together we slam up and into them and he digs his knife into the neck as he impacts. Down we go and back out. Working in time with Meredith. Drop back, bunch and explode. Blowers next and he drops with me, Mo and Meredith and we shoot forward driving them back harder. Again we do it and while Mo stabs, Blowers and I bite. We bite. We bite their fucking throats out and feel the blood filling our mouths and it’s dirty and sordid but this is how much we refuse to yield.
‘TOGETHER,’ I spray blood and flesh screaming the word as Cookey realises the action and drops down with Blowers at his side and on Meredith’s cue we go up and forward gaining another inch or two. Back and up. Down and up. I retch hot blood and puke on the spot. My eyes sting and my throat burns but we do it again and again until I look down the line and see Nick doing the same.
We do as Meredith does. All of us. We drop back and go out. We bunch and explode into them driving knives into throats or mouths into flesh.
‘HARDER.’
Dave’s booming voice permeates all of our minds giving us something to cling to as we explode back up in time with Meredith.
‘DOWN….UP…’
Like an overseer beating a drum to slaves working the oars so Dave gives time to our motion.
‘DOWN…UP…’
That voice is so loud and so powerful that in the chaos of this filth we retain some order.
‘FASTER…DOWN..UP..DOWN..UP…’
My thighs burn from the constant crouching and bursting up but that pain is nothing to the knowledge that so few of us can hold back so many of them.
‘HARDER..DOWN..UP..DOWN..UP..DOWN..UP..’
From Meredith we fight. Around her we form and do as she does. Clarence gains the best gains with his body weight and power driving them back a foot at a time and catching sight of his face I see him relishing this. In his element pitting strength against mass.