by Hatchett
Their relationship, if you could call it that, wasn’t anything like it had been with him and Ayla. Now there was a girl who had some spunk, in more ways than one. She was prepared to stand up to him and fight back if necessary. And she was wild. Shouting, scratching, biting, punching. He loved it. It got his blood up, like it was now just thinking about some of the things they got up to. But she had betrayed him. Fucking bitch. His excitement was suddenly dampened, and a frown appeared on his face. Was he really going to kill her, or would they kiss and make up? He wasn’t sure, to be honest, but he was going to take her again if it was the last thing he did.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Natalie said.
Mamba looked towards her and saw that she was now wide awake and watching him closely.
“Nothin’,” he replied, turning his attention to the day ahead.
“You looked pensive,” she commented.
Mamba had no idea what she meant.
“Maybe I can find a way of blowing all your worries away,” she said coyly, licking her lips.
“No time,” Mamba said, throwing back the sheet, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. “Lots ta do today.”
He didn’t see the look of relief on Natalie’s face.
Mamba was in the lounge fifteen minutes later, helping himself to some breakfast which had been laid out on a side table.
He spotted Basir and Ahmed sitting together and wandered over.
“Mornin’ boys, where’s Chrissy?” he asked, looking around the room.
“Gone home,” Ahmed replied with a tinge of regret in his voice. “She was bored.”
“Not surprised. Ya shoulda bored her good ‘n proper,” Mamba moved his hips and laughed at his own joke.
“I woulda done if I didn’t have ta make fuckin’ bombs all night.”
“Thought ya looked a bit knackered.”
“Only had a coupla hours sleep.”
“Sleep is fer wimps. I ain’t slept either. Bin shaggin’ all night.”
“Yeah, right.”
“That girl’s like the Duracell bunny.”
“If ya say so.”
“Stop bein’ so fuckin’ miserable, Ahmed. I was gonna ask if ya got out the wrong side of the bed, but I know ya didn’t,” Mamba said, laughing again.
Mamba looked around the room and saw that most of his men were there. The rest would be on guard duty.
“Basir, what did the scouts find last night?”
“They found four of those big fans you were interested in. I’ve marked them on the map,” he replied, handing the document over.
Mamba unfolded the map and spread it on the table in front of him then Basir pointed out the location for the four fans.
Mamba could see that the first was in the M.O.D. area they’d visited the previous day, but on the North Eastern side of the compound off St Barbaras Road. The second was across the road they had used to drive there and was just off Skynet Drive. Now, where had Mamba heard of ‘Skynet’ before? The third was on what looked like waste ground at one end of Westwells Road, and the fourth towards the other end of Westwells road near Rowan Lane. The four locations made up a rough square with two locations to the North of where the railway line ran underground and two to the South.
Mamba studied the map, seeing where the fans were in relation to the railway tunnel entrance they had visited the previous day.
Following a bit of debate between him, Ahmed and Basir, they finally agreed a plan of action. Mamba had asked whether all the men had night vision goggles and Ahmed confirmed that they did, so Mamba decided that they would start their attack when it was dark.
Basir noted that people were supposed to be in deepest sleep at three o’clock in the morning, and although they didn’t know if the people in Burlington kept the usual day/night routine, they thought it would make sense if they did, even if there was no day or night down there.
Mamba wanted to take the people underground by surprise, so anything that helped, the better. He hoped it would cause more confusion and cause them to make mistakes. He also wanted to hide how many men he had. If they knew they were only up against forty-eight, they would be more inclined to try and overrun them, but if they thought there might be hundreds, then they would be more reluctant to come out into the open. Mamba wanted to keep them cramped down below, unsettled and worried. Any that did venture out, he wanted them disorientated and overwhelmed immediately.
Mamba would lead one of five teams with Ahmed, Basir, Faruk / Ismet and Umit leading the others. He wanted each of the team leaders to make sure they were wearing their earpieces so they could communicate and know what each of them were doing and what was going on. He called the other team leaders over and for the next hour they discussed what they were going to do and when. Then they synchronised their watches and split the remaining men into the five teams; three teams of ten and two teams of nine.
There was a lot of preparation to do, so the teams split up and went their separate ways, reconnoitring their designated areas and preparing it for the forthcoming attack. They agreed to meet back up at three pm to make sure everything was ready.
44
Day 23 – 10:00
Corsham
Mamba had one of the teams of ten and had tasked himself with taking out the only fan which they were certain was on M.O.D. ground; the one just off St Barbaras Road. The scouts the night before had found it by coming in from Hudswell Lane, which was further along the perimeter, but the map indicated that St Barbaras Road would allow a more covert entry, especially in the middle of the day and especially if someone happened to be watching.
He and his team walked to the Black Swan carrying their equipment, climbed over the roadblock, took out a couple of zombies and got dirty.
They had to find another abandoned van to use because Ahmed had already taken the one they had previously sourced. Mamba managed to find a Ford Transit within a few minutes which started first time, so he bundled the men into the back for the short journey to the site.
St Barbaras Road was a single lane road, more like a country lane, with terraced housing sitting right next to the road on one side, and overgrown allotment gardens behind a wall on the other side. There were a few zombies in the road, and they turned towards the sound of the van as it approached. There was no chance that Mamba could avoid them, and he wouldn’t have tried even if he could. The sound of the bodies thumping into the front followed by a spray of blood and the rocking of the vehicle as it ran over them was a welcome sound and brought a grin to Mamba’s face.
After sixty metres, the road was blocked by a heavy-duty gate topped with razor wire, an obvious boundary to the M.O.D. site. Luckily the road widened at this point and allowed vehicles to turn around, so Mamba swung the van around and reversed towards the gate.
Dev, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, hopped out and unlocked the rear doors to allow the rest of the men out. They stood around stretching their legs before sorting out their equipment and throwing rucksacks on their backs.
Mamba noticed a detached home with large grounds down a short driveway to their left and decided to enter the property to see if there was an easier way into the M.O.D. grounds. Mamba wondered who would want to live next to a Government installation with all its ugly metal fencing and shit. It was probably bloody noisy as well. Not now, of course, but once…maybe.
The only positive thing he could think of for living here was that it might deter would-be burglars, but the ones he knew from a previous life wouldn’t have been put off. In fact, they’d have probably fancied breaking into the M.O.D. itself and nicking a sign or something stupid, just to prove a point. He could imagine someone nicking the top brass’s nameplate from his parking spot. Mamba smiled. Ah, the good old days.
Mamba could see a few more zombies heading in their direction, but he wasn’t worried. As expected, as soon as the miserable creatures got close and sniffed the air, they lost interest and turned to amble off in another direction. Mamba st
abbed them in the back of their heads for good measure, smiling as the dead bodies flopped onto the ground. A dead zombie was a good zombie in his book, but it had been a useful test to make sure their current ‘dirty’ cover was working this time around.
As soon as the team entered the grounds of the residence, Mamba could see that the metal chain link fence topped with razor wire continued on his right, stretching into the distance. However, the metal fencing was significantly less solid than the main gates and wouldn’t take much effort with a set of bolt cutters to open up. He set a man named Timur the job of cutting the wire and making sure the gap was large enough for them all to get through in a hurry.
Mamba located the packet of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket and lit up, offering the cigarettes around, but getting no takers.
He scanned the M.O.D. grounds through the fence while he waited, though he wasn’t able to see too much. There were various buildings, some large, some small, some near and some further away. There seemed to be pathways, hedges and trees everywhere, with large areas of lawn in between. It was obvious that the lawns and hedges had once been well maintained but were slowly going wild with the grass a good foot high in places. Thorn bushes were now encroaching onto the paths and there were even some growing out of the tarmac surfaces. It didn’t take long for nature to reclaim ground. Mamba wasn’t worried. If anything, having overgrown vegetation was good because it gave them more cover. They would just have to be careful not to trip over any creepers, especially later when it would be dark.
He wasn’t sure whether the night vision goggles would pick up things like that; he hadn’t used them before, so had no real idea how good they were and had to rely on Ahmed’s opinion which was ‘fuckin’ brilliant’, whatever that meant. If he’d asked Ahmed’s opinion about a smart phone or one of those smart TV’s, he’d probably have got the same response, so the jury was still out as far as he was concerned.
“Done,” Timur said as he pulled the fencing aside, leaving a gap of a couple of metres by a couple of metres. Perfect.
Timur was around mid-twenties, a bit shorter than Mamba so about five feet nine inches tall. He had a thin pockmarked face which matched his scrawny body. That was the funny thing about the Turks with him, Mamba mused, they were mostly skinny bastards like Timur, Faruk and Ismet, and not like that fat bastard Hakan who was now six feet under; not because he was buried, but because he’d been knifed to death and left to rot in one of the underground corridors below the Turk’s estate in North London. Good riddance.
“Good man,” Mamba acknowledged. “Follow me.”
They all picked up their equipment and followed Mamba in single file.
Mamba passed under a few trees and around the corner of a hedge and emerged onto a grassy area next to a car park. How many car parks did these fucking places have? They seemed to be everywhere, so they must’ve had a lot of spies working here.
None of this area looked familiar but when he looked to his left, he was sure he could see in the distance the roof of the hangar they had entered the previous day. That gave him a better bearing on where they currently were.
Mamba led the team through the car park, dodging between vehicles, and headed towards the first long, three storey building. According to the scouts, the fan was on the other side of the building in a sort of horseshoe of buildings.
They walked along a path and headed left alongside a building until they reached the corner. Almost immediately they could hear the constant whirr of the fan, getting louder the closer they got. It must be one fucking big fan, Mamba thought to himself, a little disconcerted that he wouldn’t be able to hear anything else at this rate.
He turned the next corner and the noise increased even more. The fan was housed in its own separate building, about fifteen metres long from the angle Mamba was approaching. He noticed a group of about thirty zombies at one end who were attracted by the noise and all straining to reach into the fan, but being held back by the protective metal struts across the front, a little like those portable fans with a metal grill on the front to stop people poking their fingers in. A shame really, Mamba would have liked to have seen the fuckers minced by the machinery.
As Mamba walked across the grass, the fan came into view. He could see that it was huge. At least five metres from one side to the other, large enough for a person to walk between the blades with room to spare, once it was turned off, of course.
As he got closer, Mamba realised that he was looking for some way to remove the protective metal struts and have some fun, but from where he was standing, they looked to be fairly solid. Shame. As he pulled out his two Bowie knives, he turned and indicated that they needed to take out the zombies by drawing an imaginary line across his throat. The men dropped their equipment and drew their knives, and as one they approached the back of the zombies and started taking them out. It didn’t take long, there being just three per person on average.
Once all the zombies were lying in their own pools of blood, Mamba took a quick look around. There was a large area of lawn in front of the fan before the next buildings. To one side there was a grass bank which rose a few metres before flattening out again. There was a large metal door built into the side of this bank and Mamba realised that it looked like an entrance to an air-raid shelter. Interesting.
Mamba took off his rucksack and motioned that the others should do the same. He took out a large shiny metal object and pressing a few buttons on a keypad, stomped over the dead zombies towards the fan and carefully placed it behind one of the large metal struts near the centre. He then grabbed his gaffer tape and proceeded to secure the device to the strut. He tested for any movement, and once satisfied, moved back to his men, who were watching very closely.
Mamba leant down and pulled out a smaller metal object and a small trowel, walked a few metres away and dug a small hole then placed the metal object in the hole and covered it over with the piece of grass he’d just dug up. It was good that the grass was long as you couldn’t tell that anything was amiss.
Mamba looked to his men and indicated that they should do the same. He walked along, pointing out where he wanted the devices planted, all the time aiming towards the metal door in the side of the grass bank. Once he got there, he took out his last metal object, climbed up the grass bank and placed it carefully above the doors. He looked down at his men and saw that the last two were finishing up what they were doing, just a few metres in front of the doors.
From his vantage point, Mamba looked around, hoping that any cavalry would come out of these metal doors and wondering where the best position would be for him and his men to wait.
At last, with his men watching him intently from below, Mamba was happy he had everything worked out. When he came back it would be dark, so he wanted to make sure he had a clear picture of the area imprinted on his mind. He looked down and indicated that it was time to go. His men turned as one and headed back towards the hole in the fence.
Mamba skidded down the bank and jogged to catch up.
45
Day 23 – 15:00
Corsham
Mamba drank from his bottle of water, sitting in the lounge at the Hunter’s Arms, waiting for the last of the teams to return.
Basir, Faruk and Ismet and Umit were already there, so he was just waiting on Ahmed. He looked at his watch again, and saw that Ahmed was now a few minutes late. Not that he would admit it, but Mamba was a little concerned. He was desperate to find out what the others had to report, but he wanted them all there hearing the same thing, so he’d refused to listen to any individual reports. Instead, they all sat in silence in a rough circle, with one space waiting for Ahmed to fill. The room was quiet as they were almost the only people in there. Most of the men had disappeared to get some much-needed sleep before the evening’s entertainment began.
Mamba was about to look at his watch for about the tenth time when the door to the lounge opened and a smiling Ahmed came sauntering in.
“Where the fu
ck ya bin?” Mamba shouted. “I said three pm, not fuckin’ five past.”
There was no way he was going to let on that he was relieved seeing Ahmed back safe and well. It wasn’t often they split up and Mamba didn’t like it very much. He thought about taking Ahmed with him next time and choosing a different leader for Ahmed’s team.
“What’s the problem, bro? It’s only five minutes.”
“Tell that ta Roger Bannister,” Umit said, cracking a smile.
The rest of them stared at Umit in confusion.
“What the fuck ya spoutin’?” Mamba asked, clearly annoyed.
“Roger Bannister was…”
“Shut the fuck up, Umit, afore I shut ya up,” Mamba threatened.
Unit closed his mouth and sat quietly.
Ahmed came over and plonked himself down into the chair reserved for him.
“All OK?” Mamba asked.
Ahmed nodded.
“Good. Now we can all update. I’ve planted me bombs, got the positions sorted, ready ta go. What ‘bout the rest of ya?”
One by one they went around the table, asking questions, solving small issues and finessing the plans. Within half an hour they were done, and everyone seemed happy that they were prepared for later that night.
“Time ta go get some shut-eye then,” Mamba said, rising from his seat and heading towards the exit. “Meet here at midnight.”
He went straight to his room and saw that there was no sign of Natalie. Good. He needed some sleep and didn’t need her distracting him.
46
Day 24 – 00:00
Corsham
Mamba walked into the lounge and saw that it appeared full. He spotted Basir and Ahmed and made his way across to them. He bumped into Dev on the way and told him to round up the team.
“All set?” Mamba asked and received nods from Basir and Ahmed. “Where’s the others.”
Basir pointed towards Faruk, Ismet and Umit who were chatting against the side wall. Well, it looked like Unit was chatting while Faruk and Ismet were looking around the room ignoring him. Ismet spotted Mamba looking daggers in their direction so he quickly nudged the others and headed over.