by Colley, Ryan
I nodded.
“Excellent!” He beamed and, as if on cue, a zombie wandered from the road and into the field. It saw the base and the people within but didn’t make an attempt to run for it. The base wasn’t going anywhere; it was content to walk. Steve, the sniper, looked at me sternly. “Reckon you can take him out?”
“I can try,” I said with a smile. It was one hell of a teaching experience.
I had the gun resting on the rail, and my posture as he had suggested. I controlled my breathing and stared down the scope. I had the zombie’s head in my crosshair.
“Remember,” Steve whispered. “Aim small and miss small.”
I had no idea what he was on about, but I listened anyway. I realigned my shot. Held my breath. I fired. The crack was deafening and I wished I’d had ear defenders on. The rifle jerked in my hands, no matter how tightly I held it. Even without the scope, I could see I had missed the zombie.
“Dammit,” I hissed. I realigned and fired. Missed again. I cursed. Instead of realigning my shot again, I got angry and fired repeatedly without aiming. Before I knew it, the clip was empty. I looked down the scope and saw that I had killed the zombie. I beamed. “Got him!”
Steve had his hand on his head and a look of disbelief on his face. He took the sniper rifle back from me. “Yeah you got him. But you could have done the same up close with a full automatic with the amount of shots you fired.”
I felt embarrassed, and then Steve’s radio came to life.
“Nice shooting, idiot,” a man laughed. I looked around to see who else had seen my outburst. The other three snipers in the other towers all laughed; one even clutched his sides as he did so.
Shame burned my face, embarrassment evident. I hoped James was doing better than I was.
****
James
By midday, James was already an expert in stripping and cleaning a variety of guns. The other men were impressed with how fast he had learned. They treated him like an idiot to begin with, acting like it was something newbies couldn’t do. After just one demonstration, James could do it. It was simple. Using the demonstration one he had been handed, an AK47 which had been confiscated at some point, he practised. First he had to unload the gun. Simple enough. Then he had to push, while he pulled up, the top cover of the gun; that revealed a huge spring, and he had to do the same with that as the cover. Next was the bolt carrier mechanism, which he had to pull back to remove. He removed a bolt from the carrier by twisting it. He then removed the gas tube by rotating some sort of lever which caused the tube to slide straight out. The cleaning rod just twisted straight out. Those were the main details. There were other finer details, but the main gist was a lot of twisting and pulling. Then with several tools, he cleaned, wetted, and lubricated many parts of the gun. The AK47 is a sturdy model anyway, but it felt flawless after the cleaning. James grinned at the others, hefting the AK47 smugly.
****
Sam
“God, what a day,” I said glumly as I climbed into the top bunk.
“Didn’t enjoy it?” James asked with a massive grin on his face. “My day was very informative!”
“Up yours,” I grunted before falling into a deep sleep, but even a deep sleep didn’t stop the humiliation from finding its way into my dreams.
Goddammit.
CHAPTER 33
Several days went by, and Harrington still hadn’t made an appearance. Our days were so full that we barely had time to think. James and I didn’t mind so much either. We were actually having fun. We learned something new every day, and I got marginally better at firing the sniper rifle. I felt a little guilty about not seeking out a way to get to Alice, yet I convinced myself I was where I needed to be. I kept telling myself that skills I learned under Harrington’s watch would help me survive when I went back outside of the walls, which was true. However, the real reason was much more selfish. I was too scared to leave the gates again. After spending so long in constant terror out on the road, and then living in safety, my body wouldn’t physically allow me to leave the base. It was like trying to slap yourself hard; your body stops, or slows, your hand at the last second. That is your body’s way of self-perseveration. That is what happened every time I tried to get near the gate. Peters was right. Once people had safety, they didn’t want to give it up. I hated myself for being so scared, but actual safety does a lot to see away your fear. Instead, I just sat there in self-loathing most days. I tried to involve myself with all the different things to learn. I even got friendly with most of the soldiers. That didn’t keep me busy enough. Self-hate grew within me as time went on and, before long, I couldn’t find ways to distract myself or justify my stay any longer. Next time I saw Harrington, I would tell him I needed to leave. Yet … he was never around.
“James, I really want to leave,” I said, confiding in James one day. “I can’t stay here any longer. If you want to stay, I completely understand.”
“When are we leaving?” James said without a second thought.
“You don’t want to stay?” I asked, confusion spreading over my face. James seemed happy there. The fact he was so ready to leave confused me.
“Sure it’s great here, we’re safe. But our loved ones aren’t safe, are they?” James said simply, voicing the fear I had been hiding. He smiled. “Besides, we’ve already said we’re in this together.”
He held out his hand and gripped mine firmly in a show of friendship. We had grown a lot closer over the time we had been there; I felt like we had become true friends. We both got up to look for Harrington. He was nowhere in sight. We started for his house when Peters intercepted us.
“How are you lads doing?” Peters asked with a huge smile. He had positioned himself in our way.
“We’re going to see Harrington,” I replied, ignoring his question and trying to push past him.
“The general is busy, lads,” he said, stopping us from advancing.
“We really need to see him,” James said firmly.
“Soldiers don’t get to demand when to see the general,” he said forcefully. He was going to try to stop us. Anger flared throughout me and my vision turned red.
I shoved past him, a lot harder than I initially meant to, and said, “We’re not soldiers, idiot.”
James followed me closely. I had anger in my belly. I was full of venom and ready to attack. I felt like we were being played and cheated. I practically threw Harrington’s front door open and stormed through to his office. James lagged behind me slightly; I was going a lot faster than he was. Harrington sat in his chair, whiskey tumbler in one hand and pistol in the other. He had a very dark expression on his face and stared contemplatively at the pistol.
“My boys!” he called when he saw us, as if he were a loving father who hadn’t seen his children for some time. His dark expression vanished at the mere sight of us. He held the gun loosely, but my eyes were still drawn to it. He continued, “We still need to have our little chat, remember?”
“What chat?” I asked, confused.
“You forgot our conversation from your first night here? It’s more of an offer than a chat,” he said modestly. “Some of the other lads said how well you fit in and how hard you work. You’re perfect here.”
“Get on with it, Harrington,” I snapped, my venom fuelled by my own self-loathing.
“Well, I thought long and hard about it, and wondered if you wanted to stay and officially be a member of The Harrington Brigade,” he said cheerfully. He stood up from his seat, gun held loosely in his hand.
“The what?” James said with a sneer.
“The Harrington Brigade,” Harrington repeated calmly. “It’s the name of the men under my command. I, some day, hope to have an entire army under that banner. It’s the only way we can reclaim the land from the dead. Someone needs to rebuild the world, why not us? The offer, for you, is to join us.”
“No dice,” I snarled. “We’re going on our way, or will you try stopping us?”
I glar
ed at Harrington, who was surprisingly relaxed about the whole situation. He then said words which surprised me to hear.
“You’re free to go,” he said simply. “We never kept you against your will. You chose to stay as long as you did.”
“Only because you didn’t come and see us!” I shouted back. My excuse felt weak as I said it.
“You knew where I was all along. You could have visited me at any time. No matter the reason,” Harrington said. “We will not halt you on your way out. Just remember, the world is a dangerous one to walk in.”
“Good job we’re not walking,” I quipped back with a sly wink. “We’re driving.”
“In what?” Harrington said, blinking in genuine surprise.
“Our Jeep. The Jeep we drove here in,” I said back through gritted teeth.
“That’s not your Jeep,” Harrington said, a small smile spreading over his lips. “That’s property of the British Army. As surviving members of the British Army, it belongs to us.”
“I thought you were The Harrington Brigade,” James interjected mockingly.
“Potato-potahto,” Harrington said with a shrug. “The guns were, and are, British Army equipment also. Like I said, the world is a dangerous place to walk in. Better get walking.”
“I don’t give a crap what you say, we are driving out of here with everything we came in with,” I snarled, turning to leave.
“You can’t without keys to the depot,” Harrington said smugly. I heard a jingle behind me. I turned around to see him holding a set of keys in his hands. Anger pulsed through me, James looked even angrier.
“You’re scum!” James snarled. He began to walk towards Harrington, and that’s when Harrington raised his gun.
“Take another step and I shall shoot you in the head,” he said, remaining unbelievably calm. James smiled at Harrington’s threat. Harrington raised his voice as I saw anger from him for the first time, “You think I won’t, boy! I’ve killed better men than you for far less! Why would I not kill dirt like you?!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” James said with a calm smile. He took another step forward, and then there was loud crack. I closed my eyes instinctively. Something warm and wet hit my face. I opened my eyes slowly. The first thing I saw was James’ body fall to the floor. He didn’t stagger. He didn’t drop slowly. He just collapsed into a heap. The back of his skull was no longer there. Blood poured from the wound. I rushed to his side, already knowing it was too late.
“James!” I screamed. I knelt next to him and that was when I realised that I was covered in his blood. The exit wound had sprayed me with brain, skull shards, and blood. It was all James’. I began to scream. My chest tightened. I felt like I was having a panic attack.
“I warned him,” Harrington said calmly, holstering his weapon. His statement was justification enough for his action in his eyes.
I continued to scream, tears welling in my eyes, “James! For God sake! James!”
CHAPTER 34
My eyes stung from the tears. My voice was hoarse from my screams. I was covered in blood. My friend’s blood. James’ blood. I had zoned out after I saw James brutally murdered. All I knew was Harrington had called for men to take me to the gates and leave me outside. I moved on autopilot. We paused at the gate while it opened. The same for the fence. I was guided outside and away from the security of the walls. Harrington had personally come to see me off.
“Good luck out there, Sam,” he said sternly. He then said, almost sadly, “Remember, you had every opportunity to live in safety here with James. This is your doing. I hope you know that.”
I was angry, and his words stung, but mostly because I knew they were true. If we had left earlier, perhaps that wouldn’t have happened? Maybe, if we hadn’t come to the base to begin with, he would still be alive? I had made those decisions. It was on me.
“I am not a cruel man,” Harrington continued, “I am merely doing what I have to do to keep my men safe. You helped me realise that.”
I stood there, swaying on the spot, as Harrington’s words brushed over me. Nothing felt real. It was as though I watched the events happen to another person.
Harrington then said, “As I have already told you, everything belonging to the British Army now belongs to us. Normally I would not have a problem letting you leave as you are.”
I continued to stare into the nothingness.
“However, the little incident back there has dirtied a perfectly good set of military boots,” Harrington said with a face like stone. “I am going to have to requisition those back to my base … I’m sure you understand.”
With that, I felt hands push me to the ground. I didn’t resist. I just wanted the world to swallow me up. I just wanted the numbness to go. I felt my military boots get torn from my feet with the socks still in them, exposing my feet to the coldness of the air. The men returned to the base with the boots, and my body instinctively pushed myself up, almost beyond my control.
The gates closed and Harrington began walking back to his house, boots in hand, almost as if they were a trophy. All the other soldiers had left and returned to whatever they were meant to be doing. The show was over for them. I stared into the base and realised that the sniper, Steve, whom I had spent many days with, was the only one who remained.
“There’s a petrol station a few miles up the road,” Steve whispered quietly so that he wouldn’t be heard. “Get away from here. You should be able to find somewhere safe to go from there … good luck, man.”
Then Steve left as well, returning to his post in the guard tower. I stood at the gates for a few more moments, Harrington almost back inside his house. Anger flared within me.
“Harrington!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. He turned to look at me over his shoulder. I stared at him, our eye contact never breaking. “Maybe not today, not even tomorrow, but one day, I will be back. When I am, I will burn this place to the ground and it will be your funeral pyre.”
I saw Harrington smile, very briefly, before turning away from me and going back inside.
“I swear to whatever Gods there are,” I added, to myself that time. “I will make you pay.”
I didn’t waste my time by lingering for much longer. I needed to move. I headed in the direction Steve had told me. For the first mile, I just walked. My bare feet burned from scuffing the tarmac road. I was sure my feet would be bloody if I looked down. I also had the fear that, at any moment, I would be shot in the back and killed by one of the snipers. I imagined crosshairs trained on me for the entire time I walked. I eventually turned a bend in the road and that was when I finally felt safe; bullets couldn’t bend around corners, after all. Evidence of the military presence became less obvious the further away I got. There were no more road traps, no more parked cars, no more snipers; that I could see anyway. When I was well and truly out of sight, and confident there were no undead around, I proceeded to break down. I collapsed to the ground, sobbing and shaking. I clawed at my face and clothes, trying to scrape James’ rapidly drying blood off of me. I felt sick and horrified by what I had seen. It was one thing to shoot a zombie and watch its innards spill out, but a completely different thing to watch the same happen to the living. I tried to compare it to one of the many horror films I had watched over the years. It didn’t work. In films, you knew it was all makeup and camera trickery. There was something sickening watching it happen for real, and even worse for someone I knew and considered a friend. I continued wailing and crouched down, making myself as small as possible. I felt as though I was literally going to fall apart at any moment. My chest tightened as I sobbed. I knew I was going to need to catch my breath, otherwise I would end up in hysterics. I took huge, racking breaths between sobs to try and calm down. It worked ever so slightly and I began thinking straight. What had happened to James was the worst thing imaginable; at that moment. I could still smell the iron from his spilled blood, which didn’t make things any easier. Yet it did make things easier somehow. I focussed on the iron sm
ell and breathed carefully. I needed to move. If I died, then James’ death would have all been for nothing. We had got so far together, so I had to continue for the both of us. The plan was to head to the petrol station Steve had told me about and refocus there. I could think and plan there. First things first was to get off the road. I was exposed there, to both the living and the dead. I was weaponless and had approximately four hours left of daylight. Moving in the dark disadvantaged the dead, but put me at one too. I needed to make the journey in the day time. I had to get off the road and make way through the knee-high grass along the roadside. It would shield me from prying eyes. I patted myself down to see what I had: a single bullet and my phone. I stared at the bullet for a moment before a certain clarity came over me. I spoke aloud.
“This one is yours, Harrington,” I whispered solemnly. I picked up a small rock and scratched a crude letter “H” into the side. I would never forget …
For the first quarter of the journey, I moved in a crouched position through the grass at a slow and deliberate pace. The slow pace and coolness of the grass made the journey much more bearable on my feet. Sure, I kept out of sight, but I covered barely any ground. Added with the fact I had yet to see a single zombie in the area made me think that walking, or even running, was an option. So that was what I did. I jogged over the uneven ground. My bare feet didn’t absorb any of the shock of the impact for me. Most types of footwear would have wrecked my ankles doing that, and barefoot was even worse. Every now and again, my thoughts would stray to James and the brutality of his death. I would sob loudly before quickly regaining control. Tears would flow down my face freely during that time and I let them. The more crying I did then, the less I hoped to do later. I repeated James’ address he had half-heartedly told me what felt like a long time ago. It helped to calm me and gave me something to think about. I would visit his parents one day. For James.