Z-Series (Book 5): Z-Burlington

by Hatchett

  The group of soldiers fell almost as one, bullets raking into them from different angles before they’d even had the chance to identify where the first shots had come from and retaliate.

  Then everything went quiet, and Mamba was pleased to see that his men weren’t getting carried away and wasting bullets. After a few seconds, Mamba could hear low keening sounds coming from the pile of soldiers. He stood up and directed a couple of his men to check where these soldiers had come from while he ran down the side of the bank towards the fallen men.

  He approached the last few metres carefully as his other men approached from other directions, all with their MP5s up and ready to fire at the slightest provocation.

  There was still some keening and crying coming from the pile of bodies and Mamba homed in on the sound.

  Once he saw where the noise was coming from, he realised it was the man who he had shot in the shoulder. The man had dropped his own weapon and had fallen on top of it so that it was partially hidden by his body. He was struggling to wriggle around so that he could grasp the weapon with his good arm, but it was too little too late.

  Mamba walked up to him and picked up the weapon, pulling it roughly from beneath the body and causing the man to scream in pain.

  “Shall we make sure the others are dead,” someone asked, and Mamba turned to see that it had been Dev who asked the question.

  “Kill ‘em, but let ‘em turn,” Mamba replied. “Then get all their weapons ‘n take ‘em with ya. Need ta be quick, more could be comin’.”

  Dev nodded, and between them, the Turks started stabbing each of the fallen soldiers in the heart, even if they appeared dead already.

  Mamba helped the injured man to his feet and started dragging him back towards his mound.

  “Any shit from ya, yer gonna end up like ‘em,” he threatened.

  The man keep quiet and followed.

  Just before he reached the mound, the two Turks he had sent to scout the area returned.

  “We traced the footsteps back to a metal door sticking out of the ground,” a man named Serkan said. “It’s closed.”

  “OK. Set a few of the small bombs in the area outside, ‘n a big ‘un next ta the door. Need ta be quick.”

  Serkan and Kiraz darted off, pulling their rucksacks off their backs.

  Mamba dragged the soldier up the bank and sat him down on the grass. The man was still grimacing in pain, all thought of trying to fight back long gone.

  “Where did ya come from?” Mamba asked.

  The man looked at him through teary eyes.

  “Your men just told you.”

  “Any more entrances?”

  “Yes loads. All over the place.”

  “Here?”

  “No. Different areas.”

  “If ya wanna live, ya betta do as I say.”

  The man nodded.

  Mamba realised he didn’t have time for any lengthy interrogations, so he took off his rucksack, pulled out some plasticuffs and quickly cuffed the man, causing him to scream when he pulled his arms together. Next, Mamba gagged him and made him lie down flat. Mamba then tied his feet together.

  “Ya try ‘n get up, I’ll kill ya.”

  The man closed his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks.

  Mamba checked the area towards the offices and saw Serkan and Kiraz digging small holes in the ground to hide the bombs. He looked towards the main bomb crater and saw the pile of soldiers who had just been killed. His own men were back in their hiding places, although a few had moved position. Mamba signalled that they should move towards the offices, and one by one he saw them start moving under cover.

  Mamba had a quick thought and quickly ungagged his captive.

  “Can they see us?”

  The man looked confused.

  “If we go ta yer entrance, will they see us?” he clarified.

  The man nodded.

  “Yes, there’s hidden cameras around there.”

  Mamba quickly replaced the gag, stood up and switched the selector on his MP5 to ‘E’ and fired a single shot into the air to get his men’s attention.

  He glanced around and saw that despite the suppressor, they had all heard the shot and were looking towards him. He pointed to his eyes then pointed in the direction of the offices. There were nods in response and they moved off again, more discreetly this time.

  Mamba settled back down to wait and decided that now was as good a time as any to check up on the other teams. He reached up to his ear and clicked the earpiece.

  “Anyone there?” he asked.

  “Faruk here.”

  “And Ismet.”

  “Basir here.”

  “Umit here.”

  “Ahmed here. Where’ve ya bin?”

  “Had a party come take a look. Got a prisoner, the rest’re dead. Got more guns ‘n ammo ‘n we know where they came from, so we’ve planted more bombs. What ‘bout ya lot?”

  “Same,” Faruk confirmed. “Ten dead and two to play with.”

  Mamba grimaced, just imagining what Faruk and Ismet might have in mind. The two blokes would wish they were already dead.

  “We’ve killed a few without any losses,” Basir came through. “We’ve bombed the entrance so they can’t use it anymore and we’ve chucked a few smaller bombs down the hole.”

  “Good idea, Basir,” Mamba commended him. “The rest of ya do the same. It’ll reduce the number of entrances ‘n hopefully stop ‘em takin’ us by surprise. What ‘bout ya, Umit?”

  “You’re not gonna to believe this,” Umit came back excitedly. “That wall Ernie pointed out is down, and there’s a huge cavern behind it. We can just about get in but there’s a lot of rubble and we need more help, so what do you want us to do?”

  ‘Good ol’ Ernie’, Mamba thought to himself with a grin. The old bastard had been right all along.

  “Have any of them come out?” Mamba asked.

  “No,” Umit confirmed, “but lots more zombies have appeared on the other side of the cars since the explosion.”

  “Good lad. Leave ‘em there ‘n get back. We’ll see ya later. Ahmed, what ‘bout ya?”

  “All under control. Jus’ gonna bomb the entrance then go back.”

  “Cool. Make sure all of ya leave a couple of spotters ta let us know if anythin’ happens. See ya later.”

  “We’ll do the same,” Faruk jumped in. “Then we’ll bring our two prisoners back.

  “No playin’ ‘til I speak ta ‘em,” Mamba cautioned.

  51

  Day 24 – 03:50

  Burlington

  “Any news from the scouts?” Sir James asked as he returned to the Control Room after taking a quick toilet break and using the opportunity to take another quick drink from the hip flask he’d brought along with him.

  Someone passed him a coffee which he gratefully accepted and took a sip as he sat down.

  “Nothing. I told them to report in once they saw what was going on,” Martin replied.

  “Sir?” came from one of the operators.

  “What?” Martin almost barked.

  “You might want to see this,” came the response. “Monitor number 25A.”

  Martin and Sir James scanned along the monitors until they found the correct one. Sir James nearly dropped his coffee while Martin drew in a deep breath.

  There were two figures close to the entrance in that Sector, digging holes and putting something shiny inside them before covering the holes back up.

  “What the fuck…?” Martin whispered, reaching for his radio and trying to raise his scouts.

  There was no response.

  Before he could do or say anything else, there came a rumble from somewhere else in the facility, shortly followed by another rumble.

  “What was that?” Martin asked with growing horror.

  “We have a fire in Sector 7,” the operator advised.

  “Send the fire crews,” Martin ordered.

  “What the hell is going on?” Sir James asked.
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  “I think it’s safe to say we’re under attack.”

  “By whom?” Sir James incredulously.

  How could anyone up there survive, let alone arm themselves and attack a secret Government installation. The whole thing beggared belief.

  Martin ignored the stupid question. It didn’t matter who was doing this. It was all about containing the threat and fighting back. He turned to one of the operators.

  “We’re four turbines down. How many more are online?”

  “Three,” came the response, “but they’re smaller so not as efficient. The ones not working are the main ones.”

  Martin knew that it meant the city was going to get a lot warmer and that it would become harder to breathe. A little like going to altitude where the air was thinner. Not great, but not the end of the World.

  “Do we have enough air?” Sir James asked, fearing the worst.

  “Yes, but it won’t be pleasant unless we get those turbines fixed.”

  “What about the fires?” Sir James asked.

  “A minor inconvenience,” Martin replied.

  What he didn’t know was that the subsequent explosions at the bottom of the air shafts had killed and injured many engineers, but he soon found out as the bracelets which had to be worn by all inhabitants started sounding the alarm. That meant more of his men would be side-lined in making sure the dead were really dead and not just about to turn.

  The operators were suddenly shouting more commands into their microphones as more rumbling came from different areas of the City.

  “What now?” Sir James asked, beginning to worry that the roof would be coming down on their heads anytime soon. He was beginning to feel more claustrophobic than usual and had started to sweat. God, he could do with a brandy right now.

  “More explosions and more fires,” an operator explained between shouting more orders.

  The general alarm was raised, meaning everyone would now be waking up, with dignitaries moving to an ultra-safe area in Sector 26 where the armoury was located and near to the underground train station in case they needed to evacuate. All workers and soldiers would be getting ready for duty.

  “Now we know what those metal things they were burying are,” Martin muttered.

  “What?” Sir James asked, starting to lose his cool in more ways than one.

  “Those people we saw were planting bombs,” Martin explained.

  “But how? Why?” Sir James spluttered.

  “I don’t know,” Martin admitted.

  “Can we send up more soldiers?” Sir James asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Martin replied.

  “Why the Hell not? We need to fight back quickly, before they bomb us to death.”

  “I can’t send more men to their death until we know what we’re dealing with,” Martin explained calmly. “I’ve already lost forty-odd men and sending more will just be suicide, especially if they’ve planted bombs at each of the entrances.”

  “They’ve only planted them at one entrance,” Sir James pointed out, “so that means the others…”

  “Sir!” one of the operators shouted, and when Sir James and Martin looked across, they saw that three monitors had gone blank. “The door cameras in Sectors 7, 15 and 27 are out.”

  “And Sector 25 has bombs planted all over the place,” Martin muttered, trying to think things through.

  “Do we have other cameras looking towards the entrances in Sectors 7, 15 and 27?” Martin asked.

  The operator clicked some switches and the previous blank monitors came back to life. The operator used a joystick to move the cameras towards the entrances in those sectors, but all they showed was rubble, smoke and small fires around where the entrances had been.

  Martin laughed without humour.

  “What’s so bloody funny?” Sir James snapped.

  “They’ve bombed four turbines, thrown a few more down the hole to cause more chaos, then they’ve demolished three of the four entrances next to the turbines. The fourth entrance has bombs hidden all around it and they clearly think that we have no choice but to come out that way. Clever, but not clever enough.”

  “And the funny bit is…?” Sir James asked with sarcasm.

  “We’ve got three more smaller turbines which they obviously haven’t found, otherwise we’d be in real trouble.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t get too excited,” Sir James said.

  “It also means we have three more entrances that they’re not aware of.”

  “You better pray the other three aren’t suddenly bombed then,” Sir James retorted.

  “No, they can’t have found them, or there aren’t enough of them to take out seven Sectors in one go,” Martin replied confidently. “So, we have a bit of time.”

  They both looked back to the monitors, Sir James with his fingers crossed without even realising what he was doing.

  Martin watched from another camera angle as the two men planting the bombs outside Sector 25 headed off towards the North West part of the site and out of the range of the cameras. ‘They’re heading back towards the town,’ he thought to himself. He picked up his radio, changed the frequency and pressed the button.

  “Squads five, six and seven get organised. I want squad five outside and above ground using the entrance in Sector 1. Squad six to Sector 21 and squad seven to Sector 23.”

  There were various acknowledgements and Martin sat back in his chair. He just hoped the people up top weren’t aware of these other three entrances, but if they were and happened to be heading there right now, he prayed his men beat them to it.

  He wondered what these attackers wanted. Was it food? Water? Somewhere safe to stay and hide? He thought back to what Sir James had said earlier and the fundamental question he has asked; how did they even know about this place? Very good question.

  “Do you think it was the same people we saw the other day fighting the zombies?” Sir James asked.

  Martin thought about it. They did have the gear and the guns, and they were obviously looking for something.

  “Quite possibly,” he replied. Yes indeed, quite possibly.

  52

  Day 24 – 04.00

  Corsham

  Mamba arranged for Walid and Tuncay to chuck a couple of bombs down the large crater where the fan had been, then hide and watch what was going on and report back if anything happened. Mamba didn’t think they’d send any more soldiers to the slaughter. Not yet anyway.

  The rest of them traipsed back to the transit with big smiles on their faces, Mamba lighting up a fag to smoke on the way while Dev dragged their prisoner along, digging his fingers into the gunshot wound on the man’s shoulder whenever he seemed reluctant to move.

  They piled into the transit and were back at the Black Swan within minutes, then took the short walk along the dark and deserted street back to the Hunter’s Arms.

  The rest of the men were already there to welcome them, cheers and shouts ringing out.

  “Calm down!” Mamba shouted. “It ain’t over yet.”

  He walked across to the bar to get himself a beer then wandered over to where the others were sitting. He noticed that Faruk and Ismet had plonked their two prisoners on the floor at their feet and were using them as footstools. Mamba indicated that Dev should dump the injured one by their side.

  “Any losses?” Mamba asked, and there were shakes of the hear in response.

  “Zeki got a small shrapnel wound when the big bomb went off, but other than that all fine,” Basir noted.

  “Yeah, Onur nearly got crushed by a falling wall,” Umit added, and they all laughed knowing that Onur wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the box.

  “Surprised he didn’t blow his own head off,” Mamba remarked to more laughs.

  “What now?” Ahmed asked.

  “Time ta question this lot then we decide,” Mamba replied, looking towards the prisoners.

  He indicated that Faruk and Ismet should let their two sit up and remove their gags.
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  Once they were all sitting upright, Mamba asked the prisoners if they wanted some water and shouted across to the bar when the men nodded.

  “I’m not normally this nice,” Mamba began. “Usually, I jus’ hurt people, get my drift?”

  The three men nodded.

  “Are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know, or do I have ta let Faruk ‘n Ismet here show ya how painful things can get? Trust me. Ya don’t want Faruk ‘n Ismet gettin’ excited. It ain’t a pretty sight.”

  “Ya got that right,” Ahmed muttered, looking away.

  “What do you want to know?” the injured man asked, getting glares from his two colleagues. He turned to them and sneered. “If you think you won’t break, think again.”

  The other two men looked away.

  “How many people down there?”

  “Around eight thousand.”

  “Any models or actresses?”

  The man looked surprised by the question.

  “Mamba. For fuck’s sake, we’ve got betta things ta ask,” Ahmed said, huffing.

  “Yes,” the man answered.

  “What’s ya name?”

  “Toby.”

  “Shit name, but never mind. How many soldiers like ya down there?”

  “Around a thousand.”

  “Shit man! There’s gonna be a lotta deaths then,” Mamba said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Why are you doing this?” Toby asked. “There’s not many people left in the World and you’re looking to kill more rather than everyone sticking together.”

  Mamba thought about it.

  “I was tol’ that I’d never find it, ‘n if I did, then I’d never get in.”

  “That’s all?” Toby asked, clearly surprised. “Do you know who’s down there?”

  “Yeah. That fuckin’ Prime Minister, the coward. ‘N the rest of the rich ‘n fuckin’ famous who left the rest of us ta look after ourselves. Let’s see how they get on when they’re up here.”

  “It’s not just the PM down there. There’s hundreds of politicians and their gofers down there, but also lots of normal, hard-working people,” Toby pointed out.

  “Yeah, ‘n all of ‘em are a fuckin’ waste of space. That reminds me. There’s a bloke down there I want real bad.”