Z-Series (Book 5): Z-Burlington

by Hatchett

  “Ya got yer comms in?” Mamba asked.

  They all nodded.

  “Any last questions?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Let’s go then. Good luck”

  Mamba fist bumped Ahmed and headed towards Dev, who seemed to have got all the team together.

  “All here?”

  “Yep,” Dev confirmed.

  “Got all the gear?”

  “I think so,” Dev said, looking around the team.

  “Thinkin’ ain’t good enough.”

  One by one the team confirmed that they had what they needed.

  “Let’s go,” Mamba ordered.

  They trooped out of the Hunter’s Arms and saw that the town was pitch black with not a light or person in sight. It was cold and the wind had picked up. There was no moonlight and just a little starlight to light their way.

  “Night vision,” Mamba suggested, and quickly put the goggles on and fired them up. They made a slight humming sound, but he was amazed at the picture in front of the eyes. Except for a slightly greenish hue, he could’ve been standing there in broad daylight and the picture quality was like watching an HD TV. Clearly the powers-that-be had developed these goggles since he’d last seen a film or TV programme where night vision goggles or NVGs had been used. Then they’d been crap; green blurry vision which cracked up on a regular basis and looked like you were walking through a snowstorm.

  Looking like a group of aliens who had just arrived on the planet, they walked up the road towards the Black Swan, where they had left the transit van, as the other teams emerged from the Hunter’s Arms and headed off in different directions.

  Mamba and his team refreshed their camouflage and then they were ready to go.

  Mamba was a little worried that he might have bitten off more than he could chew with just forty-eight against God knew how many. Still, he was committed now, and there was no way he was going to back down. Just imagine what Heathrow would think if he didn’t go through with it and returned with his tail between his legs. He’d be a fucking laughingstock. Wasn’t happening. He’d rather die than see the grins on the faces of those bastards. He could do it, he just had to be clever.

  Once back onsite and still wearing the NVGs, Mamba led his team towards the giant fan, the rumbling sound in the background competing with the wind whipping around the buildings and through the vegetation.

  He looked at his watch. Half past midnight. The next two and a half hours were going to be bloody boring and bloody cold.

  He hated waiting…for anything. It was like waiting in queues or waiting to be served in pubs. Most people knew to serve Mamba quickly, even if it meant ignoring those who had been waiting some time, because the fallout was simply not worth the hassle.

  Mamba smiled, remembering one time in the Dog and Bone, the pub next to the Green Park Estate in Stepney where he lived. Mamba had walked in with Ahmed and Arnold the landlord stopped pulling the pint of Guinness he was working on and quickly got Mamba and Ahmed their usual drinks.

  This had not gone down well with a bear of a man who was waiting for his Guinness to be poured and he had a go at Arnold before turning his attention to Mamba and Ahmed. It was clear the man had already had a few and was itching for trouble…and he’d found just the right person to meet his needs. A bit of verbal followed by a bit of shoving followed by a Glasgow kiss from Mamba and the man was on the deck holding his face as blood pooled on the floor beneath him, his nose flattened by the impact. That could’ve been the end of it but he had caught Mamba in a particularly bad mood, so after a couple of stamps on the man’s head and a few hard kicks to his ribs and solar plexus, the next thing the man knew was when he woke up in a hospital bed and found himself deaf in one ear and peeing through a catheter. When the police arrived at the pub, and despite it being busy at the time of the incident, no one had seen a thing.

  Mamba’s smile widened. Ah, the good ol’ days.

  Mamba’s thoughts returned to the present and organised his team into the positions he wanted them, then gave them a few words of encouragement before taking up his own position.

  He looked at his watch. Two forty-five. Another fucking hour of boredom to go.

  47

  Day 24 – 02:55

  Corsham

  Mamba lay on the raised turf roughly twenty-five metres along from the metal doorway sunk into the grassy slope, his NVGs up and MP5 lying next to him with the selector switched to ‘E’, which was single shot.

  He remembered some smartarse, and he couldn’t remember who or when, explaining to him that ‘S’ was for ‘safe’, ‘E’ was for some long German word meaning ‘single shot’ and ‘F’ was for another weird German word for ‘burst of fire’. He couldn’t understand why it was in German, just didn’t seem right somehow. He wondered what it would have been if it had been in English. ‘S’ for safe, that was obvious. But surely it would have been better to have a number ‘1’ for single shot and maybe ‘2’ for burst of fire, or was that too simple? Anyway, who gave a fuck as long as it did what it was supposed to?

  He looked at his watch again and saw that there was just a minute to go before the shit hit the fan, literally. He watched as the second hand moved slowly around the dial. It was like watching paint dry. He wondered whether he’d told his men to take off the NVGs for the blast, otherwise they were likely to be blinded. Too late now.

  The second hand passed the twelve and it was now officially three am, according to his watch anyway, but nothing happened. He was sure he had matched the timer on the bomb to his watch, but now he was beginning to have doubts. He tried to recall what he had done earlier, because he wasn’t about to approach the bomb to check it out. He thought back to the bombs he had used at Heathrow and the fact that at least one hadn’t gone off. If that fucking Basir had cocked up there would be hell to…

  There was a massive explosion, the blast wave rolling over him as he instinctively buried his face in the grass. He thought he smelt some singeing of his hair but that could have just been the bomb. He heard chunks of masonry crashing through the trees, hitting walls, smashing windows and landing with a thud in the grass like a shot put. He heard the muffled sound of other bombs going off in the distance and kept his head down until the noise around him abated and he thought it was safe to look.

  The sight which greeted him was unbelievable. Basir had certainly pulled a rabbit out of the hat with this one. The brick building which housed the fan had almost disappeared, save for a couple of rows of brick at ground level. The massive metal fan was lying flat on the ground a few metres away from where it had been, and Mamba could see that it was bent and misshapen. There were small fires on the grass and in nearby hedges and trees, and the building which had shielded the fan was ablaze.

  Now it was time to wait and see if there would be any reaction. Mamba wondered how it was going at the other four sites and how long it would be before the next phase started.

  48

  Day 24 – 03:00

  Burlington

  Sir James was pulled from a deep slumber by a huge explosion and the subsequent vibration in his room.

  Still half asleep he turned over and looked at the digital clock which showed it was three in the morning and he briefly wondered if he had been dreaming.

  He had left one of the many bars in Sector 14 around midnight after one too many brandies, which was becoming a bit of a habit of late, he had to admit. Sector 14 was the area of bars and restaurants available to the general public; the workers, in other words.

  As one of the Privileged, Sir James could have stayed in one of the executive lounges in Sector 28, but he often preferred the company of the public. He found he could let his hair down a bit, although his shock of white hair was beginning to recede in places.

  He vaguely remembered staggering around in one of the main thoroughfares and calling for one of the monorail buggies to take him back to his Privilege accommodation in Sector 27. It had taken him a few minutes of c
oncentration in the lower lighting to finally find and press one of the many call buttons spaced at intervals along all the walls.

  Although it was called a monorail, there were no actual rails at all; instead there were just two narrow magnetised, electric-conducting metal strips on two sides of all the main tunnels in the complex, set neatly and flush with the ground. Luxurious four-seater buggies hugged these metal strips going silently in each direction and could be called from anywhere and be directed anywhere, well, anywhere if you had the necessary pass, which all Privileged members had. It was a bit like a Scalextric set Sir James often thought to himself, although the buggies did all the ‘Smart’ driving and had inbuilt sensors to prevent them running people over or bumping into each other.

  Once in the buggy, you had to press one of the 30 colour coded Sector buttons, although without a Privilege card, only Sectors 1 to 21 were accessible.

  Sectors 1 to 15 were painted orange and known as the South Section and this was the main area for the general public. It included a shopping mall (Sector 10 and 11), a leisure centre (Sector 6), a cinema (Sector 7) and a hospital (Sector 2) amongst other things. There was also a significant number of accommodation Sectors including Sector 1, 5, 8, and 9.

  Sectors 16 to 21 were painted grey and known as the West Section and mainly covered utilities including a Bakery (Sector 16), stores (Sector 17), farm (Sector 18), waste (Sector 19), laundry (Sector 20) and power and maintenance (Sector 21).

  Sectors 22 to 30 were painted blue and known as the North Section and this was the restricted area. Sectors 22 to 26 were set aside for the army, defence, research and development, a science block and included the command and communications centre (Sector 25) and the armoury (Sector 26). Sectors 27 to 30 were for the Privileged and Royalty including accommodation and leisure facilities (Sectors 27 and 30), lounges (Sector 28) and restaurants (Sector 29).

  No two Sectors were the same size or shape, but they were all clearly marked with large written designations around their external walls. Between each Sector were the main tunnels and monorail system.

  The alarms started ringing and Sir James knew that something serious had happened. Before he could even contemplate what that might be through his alcoholic haze, there was another loud explosion, followed by another then another. The ground shook, his walls shook, some photo frames crashed to the floor and shattered. What the Hell was going on? Was it an Earthquake?

  Sir James sat up groggily and swung his legs off the side of the bed, still totally disorientated. He still didn’t know if the floating sensation in his head was due to the brandy he had been drinking the night before or something far more serious. He pressed his hand against the light sensor, causing the room to brighten, and was about to get dressed when the screen on the far wall of his room lit up and one of the security guards filled the screen.

  “Sir, we need you in the Control Room urgently,” the face said.

  “What’s happened?” Sir James asked, still trying to summon up the energy to move.

  “I think we’re being attacked.”

  Sir James almost laughed. Attacked? By whom? No one knew about the place, and even if they did, there was no way they could get to them fifty metres underground.

  “I’m coming. Turn those blasted alarms off. They’re enough to wake the dead. Oh, and get my Head of Security to meet me there.”

  “He’s already on his way,” the face explained then the screen went blank.

  Sir James opened his side cabinet, about to help himself to a quick shot of brandy, for medicinal purposes of course, hair of the dog and all that, when his screen lit up once again and the PM’s face appeared.

  “James, what is going on?” the PM asked, out of breath and looking frightened.

  “I’m just going to find out, old boy,” Sir James replied without looking at the screen, his eyes on the bottle of brandy hiding below the level of the bed and out of sight. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing. Go back to sleep and I’ll update you later.”

  “Please do,” the PM said, and the screen went blank once again.

  Sir James quickly picked up the bottle and unscrewed the top. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a swig, before wiping his lips and putting the bottle away again.

  With a fresh smile on his face, he got up and dressed. He was sure that it was going to be nothing but a storm in a teacup. Just the overnight security manager making a mountain out of a molehill and reluctant to take any responsibility. You just couldn’t get the staff these days.

  49

  Day 24 – 03:20

  Burlington

  Sir James walked into the Control Room and saw that Martin Lane was already there, eyeing the security footage and looking very bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and resplendently dapper in his perfectly creased uniform.

  Martin eyed Sir James and his dishevelled appearance. It was clear the man had just woken up and had rushed to get here as soon as possible, omitting the usual hygiene standards. As the man he loathed approached him, he could have sworn he could smell drink on him.

  “So, what’s going on, old boy?” Sir James asked, coming up to stand beside Martin and stare at the screens.

  Some of the lights on the right-hand wall were flashing red, although Sir James had no idea of the significance.

  “We don’t know yet, but we suspect we’ve been attacked,” Martin explained. “There’s a problem with the air circulation system,” he added, pointing to the flashing lights.

  “Is everything else working?”

  “Yes, it appears to be.”

  Sir James tried to focus on the monitors on the far wall. As it was dark above ground, the cameras had switched to infrared, but as far as he could tell, there was no movement or anything happening up there.

  “I don’t see anything,” Sir James noted.

  “There is some unexpected light in some places,” Martin pointed out three or four monitors where one side of the screen was a little brighter than the other.

  “Can’t we pan the cameras to take a look?” Sir James asked.

  “The area from which the light is coming is either hidden or we don’t have a camera there,” Martin replied. “One of the cameras which was in the area has malfunctioned.”

  “Well, that’s not very good, old boy. I thought we had everything covered. Where exactly are these areas of light?”

  Martin closed his eyes for a second then asked one of the operators to bring up a site map. He identified which cameras were showing additional light and highlighted them on the map. Once he had finished, he had four areas marked out; directly above Sectors 7, 15, 25 and 27, and on closer inspection he realised where these were, and it all started to make more sense.

  “It looks like four of the turbines have stopped working, which makes sense seeing as the air circulation system is flashing red. I’ll send up a scouting party to each location to check what has happened.”

  “Four can’t have stopped working at the same time, and even if they had, why is there additional light?” Sir James pointed out. “Why don’t we have cameras in those places?”

  “Not deemed necessary,” Martin replied.

  “A mistake. This will be the first time anyone had gone up top, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is, and I’ll make sure the scouts are fully armed and alert.”

  Martin picked up a radio off the desk and clicked the button.

  50

  Day 24 – 03:30

  Corsham

  There had been no response!

  Mamba looked at his watch and saw that it was three-thirty, and everything was still, apart from a few fires still blazing and a few zombies in the locality heading towards the flames. There were no men with guns running around and nothing to shoot at, which was a bit disappointing. Time to kick the hornet’s nest again and see what happened.

  Mamba was about to signal to his men when he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly and focused on the area to his le
ft, towards the part of the site they had investigated the first time they came here. The offices.

  Mamba saw what looked like shadows moving where there shouldn’t have been shadows. He flipped the NVGs down and instantly he could see about a dozen armed dark figures heading towards where the fan used to be.

  He quickly looked back to his men and signalled, hoping they would pick up what he was trying to tell them. He saw a few of them put their NVGs on, so he continued signalling until he was sure they’d got the message. He saw some of them fall back into the cover of trees and others scooting away from the light from the fires.

  Mamba started crawling along the top of the grass mound in the direction of the offices, the length of the grass almost guaranteeing that he couldn’t be seen from below.

  Once he got towards the end, he stopped and took another look and saw that the new arrivals were about to come around the corner of a building and would then see the fires up ahead. They were also wearing NVGs and sticking close together, as if afraid of their surroundings.

  They turned the corner and paused, taking in the scene of devastation in front of them. Then they moved forward at pace, a couple scanning their sides to avoid any surprises. Well, they were going to get a big fucking surprise in a minute, Mamba thought to himself.

  Mamba waited until the group were twenty metres from the hole where the fan had been before he lined up his MP5 and squeezed off the first silenced shot. One of the men in the group slumped to the ground as Mamba trained his weapon on a second target. He loosed off his second shot just as the group reacted so instead of killing his target, his round hit the person in the shoulder and the person dropped to the ground. Flicking the switch on his MP5 to ‘F’ just as the rest of his men opened fire.