by Hatchett
Mamba walked back into the lounge, still doing up his combat vest. Ahmed was already in the lounge with the other men, waiting for Mamba to appear.
“Wasn’t sure if ya’d be back,” Mamba said as he approached Ahmed.
“Chrissy ain’t here,” Ahmed replied sullenly.
Mamba laughed.
“Ha! Still got yer stiffy then!”
“Fuck off!”
“Right, where’s Basir?”
“Gone to find supplies like you asked,” Temel replied.
“Good. Everyone got yer blood ‘n guts?”
There were nods all around.
“Let’s go then.”
Mamba headed for the exit.
“Where we goin’?” Ahmed asked, trotting to catch up.
“Gonna take a look at that Military Defence place that Ernie was talkin’ ‘bout.”
“It’s Ministry of Defence or M.O.D. Why?”
“Why not? Might find summat useful.”
“What ‘bout pickaxes?” Ahmed asked.
“Good point,” Mamba agreed, stopping in his tracks.
He looked around and selected Khalid.
“Khalid, go find the locals ‘n get ‘em ta find a load of pickaxes ’n bring ‘em back ta the hotel.”
“Why me?” Khalid asked. “Can’t I come with you?”
“This ain’t a discussion, boy, jus’ do as yer fuckin’ tol’.”
Khalid looked like he’d been slapped, but quickly headed off towards the main square.
“Right. Let’s go,” Mamba ordered and headed off in the direction of Ernie’s road but carried on past it when they got there.
After half a kilometre, they reached Bath Road, which had been sealed off with a row of cars blocking the way. It was clear that this was the outer limit of the roadblocks because the space the other side of the cars was teeming with zombies.
“Why we riskin’ goin’ out there?” Ahmed asked.
He could see at least fifty zombies and he was sure there would be a lot more around the corner.
“I tol’ ya. We gonna check out the Military Defence place. See what secrets there are.”
“Yeah, like they gonna leave everythin’ out in plain sight,” Ahmed said sarcastically, shaking his head.
“Yer jus’ pissed ‘cos ya didn’t get any,” Mamba retorted. “Anyways, I’m in the mood fer stabbin’.”
“Nah, this is stupid man,” Ahmed replied.
Mamba ignored him and, pulling a jar of blood and guts from his pocket, ordered everyone to get dirty.
Once done, Mamba consulted his map.
“We got a hundred metres on this next road, then we go left, check out the quarry then straight down ta the Defence place.”
“How far?” Temel asked.
“Dunno, ‘bout coupla inches ta the quarry then another couple after that,” Mamba replied, looking at his map.
Temel shook his head.
“Can’t we get some cars?” Umit asked.
There were a few other nods around the small group.
“Y’all pussies!” Mamba accused them. “Let’s go.”
They crept slowly to the cars and waited to see if there was any reaction from the zombies. Mamba climbed onto the bonnet of one of the cars with both hands holding knives, the sound of the metal hood denting inwards causing a number of zombies to look and move in his direction.
As the first one approached, Mamba stabbed it in the head, and as he did so, he momentarily wondered if the blood and guts he just covered himself in was still fresh enough. He couldn’t remember when Basir has sorted out these jars. A couple of zombies came up close but seemed to lose interest and turned away.
Mamba and his group all slowly clambered over the cars and started creeping along the road. Each of them stabbing any zombies that got too close.
“Pub,” Mamba noted quietly, pointing with his knife to the Black Swan on their right.
“’N what does yer bible say?” Ahmed whispered back, referring to Mamba’s Good Beer Guide.
“Dunno, left it at the hotel.”
Mamba wandered over to the pub and looked in through a grimy window. He couldn’t see anything of concern, so he tried the entrance and when the door opened, went inside.
He came back out a couple of minutes later and threw a bottle of beer in Ahmed’s direction.
“Help yerselves,” he offered to the others as he used a stone to lift off the cap.
Emre and Umit took him up on the offer and went into the pub as Mamba took his first drink. A zombie wandered a bit close, so Mamba used the empty bottle to cave its head in. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a book of matches with a big grin on his face.
“Bin dyin’ fer one of these,” he whispered as he lit up and passed the packet and matches to Ahmed.
Once Umit and Emre returned, they set off, still stabbing anything that got too close.
At the end of the road, they took a left at the roundabout onto Park Lane.
“Reminds me of London,” Mamba whispered.
Ahmed looked at him as if he was going mad.
“I don’t see no Ferrari’s,” he whispered back.
“No imagination,” Mamba retorted, and continued walking, puffing his cigarette and stabbing.
“Waste of fuckin’ time,” Ahmed muttered.
“Stop whingein’.”
The houses down the left-hand side of the road looked like old council houses and the ones to the right were new modern detached homes with double garages in the same limestone bricks they had seen all around the area. Then the housing seemed to change with older bungalows to the right and new, but smaller family homes to their left. It was a nice enough area if you liked the quiet and boredom.
There weren’t so many zombies along this stretch of road until a few hundred yards further along when they came to a mobile home park, which looked totally incongruous to the other housing nearby.
“I see we’re comin’ inta Pikeyville,” Mamba muttered.
“Ain’t no caravans. They homes,” Ahmed corrected him.
Mamba looked a bit closer.
“Maybe,” he conceded, but he wasn’t convinced.
From where he was standing, there looked to be hundreds of zombies in the area, luckily kept at bay by fencing. There were old and young zombies, some who looked like they were due to die before the outbreak happened and others who clearly had been turned after the event.
Then they came to another smaller roundabout and just off to the right-hand side was what was left of the quarry, with large limestone blocks sitting along the entrance to the property. As the rest waited, Mamba headed for the entrance, took a look around before turning and retracing his steps.
“Waste of time. Now’t there,” he said and continued along Park Lane.
After another thirty metres, they came to an abandoned supermarket van which had the refrigeration unit on the back for delivering groceries. Mamba made a beeline for the vehicle, jumped in and checked that the keys were in the ignition. He hated to admit it, but the walk had been boring, and he just wanted to get to the Defence place as quickly as possible.
Mamba turned the key and the van grumbled into life.
“In ya get,” Mamba shouted, attracting a few nearby zombies which the others quickly dispatched.
“It’ll be cold,” Emre pointed out.
“Don’t be fuckin’ daft. It ain’t bin workin’ fer weeks.”
Emre smiled, realising that Mamba was right. As Ahmed headed for the passenger seat, the rest of them swung open the rear doors and quickly stepped back as the stench of rotting food hit them.
“Jesus!” Temel shouted, gagging.
“Jus’ get in ‘n stop bein’ a fuckin’ baby,” Mamba ordered, “or I’ll go without ya.”
“We can’t,” Temel replied, it’s full of shelves and shit.”
“Well, pull ‘em out,” Mamba ordered. “Yer the ones who wanted a lift.”
“Yeah in a car or something.
Not a smelly bloody van full of maggots.”
“Get on with it, or I’m off ‘n ya can walk.”
Mamba turned to Ahmed and grinned like he was playing a joke on the rest of them as the first crates of rotting food started hitting the road and sliding for a few feet before coming to a stop, some breaking on impact and other tipping and spilling their load. There was some metal shelving which couldn’t be broken easily, so the Turks had no choice but to climb up and hold on, with the doors still open.
Mamba put the vehicle in gear and pulled away, the doors at the rear swinging around and almost knocking a couple of the Turks off. They quickly wrapped their arms around the metal shelving and used their legs to stop the doors from crashing into them as Mamba floored the accelerator.
“Slow down!” Temel shouted. “You’ll get us killed!”
Mamba pretended he hadn’t heard and floored the accelerator even more, laughing as he did so.
“Yer such a kid,” Ahmed remarked, looking out of his side window, but smiling all the same.
They sped along what was now called Park Road at speed, Mamba smashing into stray zombies and causing the Turks at the rear to shout in disgust. The housing gave way to fields and Mamba was pleased he hadn’t walked all the way.
A little further, they saw the first signs of military property with high wire-topped fencing with manicured hedges behind, shielding everything from view. As Mamba slowed, the first sign suggested it was a training centre, which was no good to him, so he carried on to the next junction.
There was a large gated entrance, but they could see grass and even an overgrown football pitch behind. This couldn’t be right, so Mamba continued on to the end of Park Road, and at the roundabout, turned left into Westwells Road.
Five hundred metres further along, they came to the main entrance, with a guard house in the centre and ineffective barriers on either side which Mamba crashed the truck through. He followed the drive around and stopped outside the main building, the Turks on the back nearly falling off the van in relief. Mamba was very pleased that he’d decided to use the van rather than walking. It had been a far longer journey than the two inches it had looked on the map.
30
Day 22 – 11:00
New Eden
There were various buildings with lots of parking spaces next to them. There were also a number of zombies milling about, most in civilian clothes but the odd one in uniform.
One such uniformed zombie approached Mamba as he got out of the cab. Mamba shouted ‘Atten…tion!’ but when the zombie didn’t stop and salute, Mamba stabbed it in the head, took the zombie’s cap as it was falling and put it on his own head, laughing.
Mamba looked around. There was a row of what looked like office buildings with a sign pointing towards a reception, and a number of outbuildings and standalone hangars. He eyed the car park and spotted all sorts of cars, a few vans, a minibus which might come in useful, but no tanks or anything army related which he had hoped for.
“No tanks,” he murmured.
“It ain’t no army place,” Ahmed pointed out. “This is spook territory.”
“What?” Mamba asked, confused.
“Like spies. James Bond.”
“Nah, that’s in London, bro. I seen it on the TV.”
“Could be here too.”
“Doesn’t fuckin’ look like it ta me.
Mamba closed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Unless he found one of James Bond’s cars it really would be a waste of time and effort. He opened his eyes and cast them over the parked cars, willing himself to spot an Aston Martin. None, so he turned his attention to the main office building
“I don’t like the look of ‘em buildin’s,” Mamba said, pointing to the main building.
“Look like offices,” Ahmed agreed.
“Let’s try the hangars,” Mamba said, and started walking in the direction of the largest one he could see.
“Temel, take a couple ‘n go check the offices,” he ordered over his shoulder and pointed towards the building he was talking about.
Temel, Umit and Emre walked off in the opposite direction while Faruk, Ismet and Samir followed Mamba and Ahmed.
The large shuttered doors to the hangar were closed, but a quick test on the handle of the side door gave them access to the massive space beyond.
It was dark in the hangar so the five of them pulled out their torches and beams of light were soon swinging all around, picking out what looked like commercial shelving with various boxes and crates neatly packed away.
The noise of their entry had obviously attracted something because they could hear grunting and the dragging of feet from some of the nearby aisles. Indeed, when Mamba shone his torch on the ground, there was dried blood everywhere. It looked like a massacre might have taken place.
“Spread out,” Mamba ordered, and they each moved apart, feeling their boots sticking to the floor with each step as they shone their torches down the aisles.
The first zombie to appear was wearing dark green overalls and black boots. The man, or what was once a man, had a dent in its head, its right arm was flapping uselessly, and it dragged its right leg along as it moved. Samir stepped forward and nailed it with his Bowie knife, the body slumping to the floor with a thud.
The sound of grunting increased and as they all watched, a horde of zombies appeared at the far-left end of the hangar and started in their direction. They were joined by more from other aisles until there seemed to be a sea of zombies.
“There’s more,” Ahmed warned, looking in the opposite direction.
Mamba took a quick look and decided there were simply too many.
“Where the fuck they all comin’ from?” he asked no one in particular.
He stabbed another zombie in the head as it emerged from the aisle next to him then his torch picked out a load more following on behind.
“Out!” Mamba shouted, turning back towards the door they had come through.
The five quickly fell back, keeping their eyes on the aisles.
Mamba was first through, quickly followed by the others.
Ahmed was about to slam the door closed, but Mamba had other ideas.
“Leave it open. We’ll take ‘em as they come out.”
“Ya sure?” Ahmed asked. “No need.”
“I wanna know what’s in there,” Mamba replied, preparing for the first zombie to come through the door. “Ya stand behind the door ‘n slam it if I shout.”
The first zombie appeared, and Mamba allowed it to walk a metre or so before stabbing it in the head. More zombies emerged from the doorway and the Turks got busy with their knives.
After killing half a dozen, the remaining zombies managed to block themselves in the doorway, unable to get out.
“Why the fuck they keep comin’?” Ahmed asked. “We’re dirty,” he said, trying to sniff himself.
“Must be shit blood,” Mamba replied, not that he was too bothered.
One of the zombies in the doorway fell to the ground and this caused another couple to trip over it. They started crawling towards the humans, freeing up space for more zombies to emerge from the hangar.
Ahmed leaned down and stabbed one of the crawling zombies in the head, then quickly darted back behind the door to avoid another one taking a bite out of him.
“Shut the fuckin’ door!” Mamba shouted as he stabbed another.
Ahmed tried but the zombie he had just stabbed was blocking the doorway. He bent down and grabbed the body and tried to drag it out of the way, all the time watching to make sure that one of the others didn’t spot him and change their direction of attack.
The body shifted a foot or so then stopped. As hard as Ahmed tried, the body simply wouldn’t move, and Ahmed assumed it must have got stuck on something.
“Door won’t close!” Ahmed shouted, attracting the attention of another zombie. “We need ta fallback!” he shouted as he stabbed the zombie in the face.
As one, the five of them tur
ned and ran twenty metres before stopping and turning around.
There were at least fifteen zombies already out of the hangar with more following, and they were all heading towards Mamba’s group.
“What the fuck!” Mamba shouted, starting to lose his temper.
“Boss! More are coming,” Samir shouted, waving his arms around.
Mamba looked and saw that the few stray zombies around the grounds were now heading in their direction.
“Get on the cars,” Mamba shouted and started running towards a nearby car park.
He jumped up onto the first car he came to and climbed up onto the roof and sat down. He looked around and saw that the others had done the same and were all looking at each other and grinning.
They watched and waited as the zombies slowly closed the gap and within a few minutes all the cars were surrounded with zombies all grasping for the people on the cars.
“Why’s this happening?” Samir shouted above the noise, clearly worried about the turn of events.
“Mus’ be the blood ‘n guts,” Mamba shouted back. “Thought summat weren’t right back at the pub.”
He leant over the side of the car and stabbed a zombie in the head.
“We only jus’ put it on,” Ahmed shouted.
“Yeah, but it must be old…or Basir’s tryin’ to stitch us up. I’ll kill that fucker when I see him.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Ahmed shouted back as he stabbed a zombie. “He thinks the sun shines outta yer arse.”
Mamba considered the comment and nodded in acceptance.
“Mebbe it ain’t lastin’ as long,” Ahmed shouted.
Mamba shrugged and stabbed another zombie.
“Shit!” Ahmed shouted. “The others’ll think they’re safe! We betta tell ‘em.”
“We can’t,” Mamba replied. “The earpieces ain’t working ‘cos they need chargin’.”
31
Day 22 – 11:05
New Eden
Temel, Umit and Emre had entered the reception area of what looked like an office building. There was a reception desk to their right, a load of seats for people to sit and wait, and a glass wall opposite with a code-lock door that led into the main part of the building
There were a couple of zombies in the waiting area who turned when they walked in and slowly shuffled towards the newcomers. Temel and Umit stabbed them in the heads, not noticing that the zombies hadn’t lost interest and backed off.