by Hatchett
So, what to do? He was here now, and it seemed like there might really be an underground city beneath his feet if old Ernie could be believed. But was it worth trying to get in? Knowing his luck, they’d spend the next few days gaining access, only to find it was bloody empty. No posh buggers hiding out and definitely no famous people or gorgeous models to ravish.
So, should he cut his losses and fuck off back to London? He wasn’t sure how the Hell he’d get back anyway. Maybe he should take up Natalie’s suggestion and turn himself into the king of the town, but deep down, he knew he really didn’t want to be there any longer than he had to be. It had been alright when he had an enemy like the Reverend to defeat, it got the juices flowing, but that was all done and dusted now. ‘Fuck it!’ he thought and rose from the bench. He was going to take this underground city apart then he was going back to London to sort out the bastards at Heathrow.
He started walking back towards the Hunter’s Arms, beginning to formulate a plan of what he was going to do.
26
Day 22 – 08:00
New Eden
Mamba was back in the lounge and people were stirring. He’d sent one to fetch Ahmed while he helped himself to a bottle of water and some semi-stale food left over from the night before. The cleaners were going to have a job on their hands.
The door banged open and Ahmed sauntered in, a big smile on his face.
“Ya look like the cat that got the…bird,” Mamba said.
“Mornin’ ta ya too,” Ahmed replied as he walked over, “‘n it’s cream.”
“What is?”
“The cat that got the cream,” Ahmed corrected. “The early bird got the worm.”
“That’s where ya wrong, bro. Mamba got the bird,” Mamba said with a leer.
“So did Ahmed,” Ahmed replied, leering back.
They high-fived each other with Mamba staring at Ahmed with a calculating look on his face.
“Ya mean ya…”
“Yep!” Ahmed cut him off, clearly pleased with himself.
“Well, fuck me. It’s ‘bout fuckin’ time. So, what was Evelyn like in the sack?”
Ahmed was about to reply but hesitated as he realised what Mamba had said. He frowned as Mamba started laughing.
“Got ya!” Mamba said loudly.
“Funny!”
“Come on, then. Spill.”
“A gentleman never talks,” Ahmed replied.
“Jus’ as well ya ain’t no gentleman then.”
Ahmed laughed, almost giddy with his overnight success.
“Well, let me jus’ say that it was great standin’ up!”
Mamba’s mouth formed an ‘O’ as pictures formed in his mind.
“Dirty bastard!” he leered. “That was my idea!”
Ahmed laughed.
“’N yer’ll never know jus’ how great it was!”
“Fuck off!”
Ahmed saw what Mamba was eating and drinking and headed over to the tables to help himself before returning and sitting down opposite.
“Did ya really?” Mamba asked.
Ahmed winked as he stuffed some crisps into his mouth and took a swig of water.
“Bastard!”
Mamba paused for a few seconds as Ahmed ate.
“Does she…like…ya know…?” Mamba asked, shrugging his shoulders.
Ahmed stared at him, confused.
“No, I don’t know,” he replied.
“Has she got all the same bits?”
“What the fuck ya on ‘bout?” Ahmed asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Women’s bits?” Mamba clarified.
“Fuck me Mamba. She a woman, so yeah, she’s got all the women’s bits as ya would expect,” Ahmed replied, exasperated. “What planet ya on?”
“Good ta know. Jus’ checkin’,” Mamba said sheepishly.
They continued to eat and drink in silence as others in the room rose groggily to their feet and wandered off to find a toilet or something.
“So, what we doin’?” Ahmed asked around a mouthful of peanuts.
He had been lobbing peanuts into the air and catching them with his mouth for the past couple of minutes, a few missing their target and bouncing off his face and onto the carpet.
“Time fer ol’ Ernie ta keep his promise,” Mamba replied.
“Where is he?”
“Fuck knows. As long as he ain’t dead or that’ll really ruin my day.”
The door to the lounge opened and Chrissy wandered in, hair all over the place. She spotted Mamba and Ahmed and walked across to them. She noticed the shit eating grin on Mamba’s face and frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“I hear ya like doin’ it standin’ up,” Mamba said, and Chrissy threw Ahmed a furious look.
Ahmed shook his head and held up his hands in defence.
“He guessed, honestly!”
“Yeah, right,” Chrissy replied, looking back at Mamba. “Good morning to you to.”
Mamba was still grinning.
“Surprised yer up,” Mamba said, “or even walkin’,” he added with a chuckle. “Our Ahmed can be a bit of an animal when he gets goin’.”
“Best shag I’ve ever had,” Chrissy replied, deciding to fight fire with fire.
“But ya ain’t had me,” Mamba retorted.
“I don’t go for little boys. I go for real men. Big men. Bigger the better.”
Chrissy held her hands out like a fisherman exaggerating the size of the fish he’d caught.
Mamba laughed, thinking of another come back.
“More like a tadpole compared to me.”
“In your dreams.”
“Excuse me! I’m still here ya know,” Ahmed butted in.
“Where’s ol’ Ernie?” Mamba asked, changing the subject.
“How should I know?” Chrissy replied as she walked across to the food and drinks. “Probably went home.”
Mamba looked back at Ahmed.
“Where’s Basir?”
“How should I know,” Ahmed mimicked Chrissy.
Mamba shook his head in disgust and got up muttering ‘jus’ can’t get the staff’ as he walked a few feet to one of his men who was sprawled out on the carpet.
Mamba gave the guy a hefty kick up the arse and the guy jumped to his feet like he’d been electrocuted. The Turk automatically reached for his knife, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus his bleary eyes.
“Oh, it’s you,” he muttered, as he shook his head to try and wake himself up and put his knife away.
“Find Basir,” Mamba ordered and went back to his seat.
Mamba watched the Turk weave around the room looking at the bodies lying around. He didn’t find what he was looking for so left the room to continue his search.
Mamba looked at Chrissy who was back with a plateful of food and some fizzy drink.
“Where’s Ernie live?” he asked.
“By the college,” Chrissy replied, and proceeded to give Mamba directions.
‘Shit’, Mamba thought. He probably walked past Ernie’s house earlier.
27
Day 22 – 08:45
New Eden
Mamba and Ahmed turned left into Paul Street and walked along the pavement trying to pick out the house numbers on the terraced houses.
There were a few dustbins lined up on the pavements as if it was bin day, except there wasn’t going to be any collection anytime soon. Some of the bins were overflowing and the smell coming off some of them was rank as they passed by.
“Gonna be rats,” Ahmed remarked.
The houses all looked similar, with large sandstone brickwork instead of the usual small red bricks, giving the road a new and bright outlook.
Most of the houses seemed to be in groups of two or three, with a driveway at the side or heading behind the semi-detached houses. Mamba assumed these drives led to the rear gardens and parking areas because there weren’t too many cars parked next to the pavement.
They arrived at number twelve. A se
mi with a small front garden and parking to the side. The garden was overgrown and the fence surrounding it had seen better days, but Mamba guessed that Ernie couldn’t have done much about it even if he wanted to. He swung open the gate with a slight squeak as it moved on rusting hinges and walked the two or three metres towards the blue front door, almost tripping over a gnome which had been hidden by some of the overgrown shrubbery.
There was no bell, and even if there had been, it probably wouldn’t have worked. However, there was a letterbox with a knocker attached to it.
Mamba gave the knocker three quick taps and stood back a pace to wait. He glanced towards Ahmed and saw that he was studying the gnome with interest.
Mamba shrugged and turned back to the door, but nothing was happening, so he walked forward again and banged loudly on the door with his fist.
He listened intently and heard some shuffling, and a few seconds later there was the noise of a chain being moved and the lock disengaged before Ernie swung the door open. He was still in his dressing gown.
“Keep the noise down, you’ll disturb the neighbours,” Ernie said. “And you can put Bert down,” he added in the direction of Ahmed.
Mamba turned and saw Ahmed bend over to put the gnome he had picked up back down.
The gnome had the ubiquitous red pointy hat, white curly beard on a chubby face and a bright blue tunic and black boots. It held a sign saying, ‘Go away!’
“Nice,” Mamba said, sarcastically.
“I guess you better come in,” Ernie said, walking back into the house and leaving the door wide open.
Mamba and Ahmed followed, Ahmed closing the door behind him.
“Coffee?” Ernie asked. “It’s black like you but there’s no sugar, again, like you.”
“Yeah,” Mamba replied, ignoring the jibes. “Sounds good.”
“Take a seat,” Ernie offered, and Mamba and Ahmed strolled into the front room and sat down on a sofa.
The room was about four-square metres, with off-white painted walls, a modern-looking gas fire and a small TV in one corner. There was a coffee table between the sofa and the TV, covered with an assortment of magazines from cars to TV schedules. An armchair sat behind the door and some sort of side unit displaying some bits of pottery and a few photos on the top.
As they heard a gas stove clicking into action, Mamba wandered over to the unit to look at the photos. There were a couple of facial shots of Evelyn on her own and a couple with Evelyn and Chrissy; one where they were standing next to each other like ‘Little and Large’ and another where their faces were side by side. Mamba guessed that either Chrissy was standing on something for that one, or Evelyn was on her knees. Looking at the background, Mamba suspected it was the former. He looked at the next one which showed a younger Ernie with a handsome looking woman, presumably his wife. Mamba briefly wondered what had happened to her. There were further photos featuring the same people at different times and in different places, but Mamba was getting bored and went and sat back down.
A few minutes later, Ernie came into the room slowly, balancing a small tray with three mugs of steaming coffee on it.
Ahmed leapt to his feet to take the tray and place it on the coffee table as Ernie took the chair behind the door.
“Wondered how long it would take for you to come over,” he said.
Mamba took a sip of his drink and grimaced, pulling the mug away from his lips quickly.
“It’s hot,” Ernie said helpfully.
“Ya don’t say!” Mamba replied, rubbing his lips.
“How’s your head?” Ernie asked. “You lot were putting it away at a fair old rate last night.”
“Good as gold,” Mamba replied.
“So, let me guess. You want to find the entrance to Burlington today.”
“Yep.”
“You’ll have to pull your finger out then,” Ernie replied.
Mamba looked confused.
“Why?”
“Well, we’re not just walking up to a door and saying, ‘open sesame’,” Ernie explained. “The only entrance I know is behind a big thick brick wall so you’re going to need some tools. Pickaxes. And wheelbarrows to cart the bricks away.”
“Can’t we bomb it?” Mamba asked.
Ernie picked up his drink and looked at Mamba over the rim as he took a tentative sip.
“Bombs?”
“Yeah, we can make ‘em,” Mamba advised.
Ernie thought about it.
“Maybe, but it may cause more damage than you want. Also, it depends what you need. There’s quarries all around here and they’ll have dynamite in locked containers or something.”
“Ya got any electronic shops?”
“Why?” Ernie asked, puzzled.
“’Cos a few of my boys can make their own bombs with the right stuff.”
“Please yourself. We’ve got a few computer shops if that’s any good.”
“Maybe.”
“Dynamite might be betta ‘n easier,” Ahmed opined.
“Where’s the dynamite?” Mamba asked.
“In the quarries, like I said,” Ernie replied.
“Yeah, but where’s these quarries?” Mamba asked in exasperation.
“Outside town.”
“How far?”
“Dunno. A mile, couple of miles, but I wouldn’t go if I was you.”
“Why?”
“Because of all them zombies, of course.”
“We ain’t bothered ‘bout no zombies,” Mamba said. “They should be worried ‘bout us.”
Ernie raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘is that so?’.
Mamba pulled one of his maps out of his pocket.
“Where’s the quarries?”
Ernie looked around the room.
“Need my glasses,” he said.
Mamba and Ahmed scanned the room, Ahmed spotting them on a shelf above the fire. He got up and collected them before passing them to Ernie as Mamba passed the map across.
Ernie looked at the map, turning it one way then the other before finally figuring out the right way around. He studied it some more.
“Got a pen?”
Mamba handed one over and Ernie marked four different locations before handing the map and pen back.
“They’re the four main quarries,” Ernie explained. “Best chance of finding dynamite.”
Mamba studied the map, working out that there were two quarries near Caine, about seventeen kilometres away, one near Bradford-on-Avon about fifteen and a half kilometres away, but luckily there was one just a kilometre away.
“What’s this one?” Mamba asked, pointing to the closest one, which looked to be on the outskirts of town towards the West.
“Used to be an underground brick quarry, but they’re building houses on it now.”
Mamba looked towards the ceiling.
“Fuck me, if they buildin’ houses, it ain’t likely they got any dynamite jus’ lyin’ ‘round.”
“Good point. You’re not as daft as you look, son” Ernie acknowledged.
Mamba counted to ten.
“The others are bloody miles away!”
“Yeah, And I wouldn’t want to try to reach them. They were a long way away when it wasn’t the end of the World.”
Mamba sighed.
“I guess we’re makin’ our own then,” he said.
“I’ve just had a thought,” Ernie said. “There’s lots of Ministry of Defence sites near here. They might have stuff, and you never know, they might be hiding other access points to the underground city. Might be more accessible.”
“I’m sure they might,” Mamba said sarcastically, “but they might not, ‘n I ain’t wastin’ time searchin’ fer summat that might or might not be there.”
“Your call, son,” Ernie said.
“Bollocks! We gonna try the bombs ‘n get some pickaxes first.”
“Like I said, it’s your call, son.”
“Get dressed ‘n meet us at the hotel at twelve,” Mamba said, drinki
ng the last of his coffee and standing up. “I got some organisin’ ta do.”
28
Day 22 – 09:30
New Eden
Mamba and Ahmed got back to the lounge to find Basir waiting for them. Some attempt had been made to clear up the room and put the tables and chairs back where they should have been.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Basir explained. “Samir told me you were looking for me.”
“We was,” Mamba replied, plonking himself down onto one of the seats. “How many bombs ya got?”
“A couple.”
“Might need more. Ask some of the locals where ta find ya gear ‘n go get it ‘n start buildin’. I want Temel, Umit, Emre and Samir ta come with me. They need ta be dirty. Oh, ‘n Faruk ‘n Ismet.”
“Oh fuck!” Ahmed said. “Do ‘em arseholes have ta come?”
“Shut up, Ahmed, they comin’,” Mamba retorted.
Mamba turned back to Basir.
“Get goin’ then.”
Basir took off, not sure whether to round up the men Mamba wanted or to find some locals to point him in the right direction. They’d all buggered off over the past half hour and he had no idea where they’d gone.
“Men first,” Mamba ordered, as if reading his mind.
Basir left the lounge and they could both hear him shouting in the corridor outside.
Mamba smiled.
“Good lad, that Basir,” he said.
“Yeah, mustard,” Ahmed agreed.
“Ya think we wastin’ our time?” Mamba asked.
“Prob’ly, but we ain’t got nothin’ betta ta do.”
“Yeah we have,” Mamba said, looking up to the ceiling then looking back at Ahmed.
A big smile lit up Ahmed’s face.
“Yeah bro, ya right!”
Ahmed got up and started heading for the exit, with Mamba moving to catch up. They bumped into Basir in the corridor. He was still shouting and screaming.
“Tell ‘em ta wait in the lounge fer us,” Mamba ordered as he passed by Basir and took the stairs two at a time with a big grin on his face.
29
Day 22 – 10:30
New Eden