Hawk didn’t need his sixth sense to pick up on the creatures in the city. He could hear them. They all could. They made chittering, chattering noises with their jaws, stumbling forward and winding up the driveway. And once this rotisserie of delicious flesh stepped into the open, all undead eyes and rotting teeth would turn to greet them.
There would be no escape.
Hawk turned to the hostages. “We’re at the gate.” He looked them in the eye. They weren’t going to like this. “We have to step out and run through the gate.”
“Step out?” Blue Eyes said. “Are you crazy? Those things will tear us to shreds!”
“They’ll tear us to shreds if we stay here.”
Blue Eyes shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we let you bring us out here. We could have stood and fought in the cinema and waited for the military to show up.”
“How well was that strategy working for you before I turned up?” Hawk snapped.
“At least we were alive,” a mother said, clutching her child to her chest. “We step out there, we die.”
Hawk tempered his anger. “The undead are out there, I won’t lie to you. The longer we wait here, the more of them there will be, and more of us will die.”
“More of us?” Blue Eyes said. “Well, that’s comforting. You expect some of us to die if we step out there?”
There was no time to beat about the bush. “Some might.”
The hostages groaned in disbelief.
“But not all of you. Maybe not even any of you—if we’re lucky and keep our wits about ourselves. In ten seconds, I’m going to step out there and get the undead’s attention. I’ll steer them away while you creep out.”
“What’ll happen to you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Blue Eyes’ gaze shifted slightly. Instead of looking Hawk in the eye, she studied his scars and the wounds he’d suffered in reaching them. When her eyes focused back on his, it came with a fresh insight. Does she know I’m a Walker? “Okay.”
Those around her hissed and grabbed her arms, but she shook them off.
Hawk dared not push his luck in case she changed her mind and stepped through the hedge. A thin smattering of undead greeted him, attracted by the snap of hedge limbs. Hawk calmly walked to the other side of the drive and stamped his foot.
The nearby creatures ambled toward him, led by a woman with frizzy grey hair. An old cat lady if Hawk ever saw one.
“Now!” Hawk said, gaining the attention of a handful more zombies further up the field.
The hostages crawled out from under the hedge at once, got to their feet, held hands with loved ones and took off at a run.
Their footfalls garnered the attention of the undead, who moaned loudly and turned in slow circles to identify the origin of the rushing feet—so unlike their shuffling gait.
“Here, here!” Hawk bellowed, waving his arms and hot stepping across the field.
Some undead followed him, some didn’t. The hostages made for a larger potential meal, and even if they weren’t as noisy, they were still a more attractive proposition.
Only Blue Eyes cast a look over her shoulder at Hawk, a confused but intrigued expression on her face. She led the others through the gates and onto the street outside.
“Go!” Hawk shouted. “Over the road and up the hill. Wait for me at the top.”
The hostages broke formation and a pair of undead rounded the gates at the last moment, too late for the living to change direction. They played a dangerous game of tag and bolted around the undead.
Someone screamed, a pained explosion of fear.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
The undead chasing Hawk turned and rushed on broken limbs toward the wailing hostage. The creatures swiped at the closest members of the hostage clan, who ducked underneath flailing arms and grasping claws. Cornered, one lad crawled on his hands and knees between a zombie’s legs. He got to his feet but was met by an unruly attacking line of zombies. Another scream of agony.
The creatures wandering up the driveway in the direction of the house saw the best meal was right behind them, turned, and hurried down the hill.
Another hostage—the old man with wispy hair—wailed as a pair of zombies pulled at his arms, a tug of war that threatened to dislocate his limbs. But his attention was on a little girl who stood, frozen in place, watching the scene in horror. “Run!” the old man bellowed. “For the love of God, run!”
But the girl couldn’t run. She was in shock.
Hawk was there before he knew it, and scooped the girl up in his arms and took off up the road. He glanced over his shoulder at the old man, who wore a strange little satisfied smile on his face. It remained in place even after a zombie buried its yellowed teeth into his throat. The girl over Hawk’s shoulder screamed.
Another young man lay on the ground, head leaning up, watching as three undead feasted on his innards.
The hostages were a broken mess when they reached the meeting point. And visibly fewer in number. Blue Eyes performed a headcount and found five missing.
“We have to go back for them,” an old biddy with no front teeth said. “We can’t leave them there.”
None of the others could meet her eyes. They were dead and gone.
The old biddy’s face screwed up. “You’re nothing but a bunch of cowards. Well, I’m going back for them. And if any of you want to join me, you’re free to.”
Blue Eyes was the only member to step forward. The hope in the old biddy’s eyes fizzled when she saw her face. “If you go back, you’ll die,” Blue Eyes said. “I can’t stop you, but I suggest you think about what you’re doing before you do it.”
The old biddy looked down the hill at the front gate, where dozens more undead were already gathering, feasting on the fallen. Did she want to be one of them? She lowered her head and kicked her worn boots.
Hawk wished he could tell them it was all over, he wished he could say their friends and relatives in the military were on their way, but it was a lie. Their little escape and those who’d fallen were already getting attention, and not only from those nearby. The stench of death traveled far, and just over the rise they stood on, surging like a killer wave, a horde of undead washed toward them.
And it was already too late to avoid them.
* * *
“Now what?” Blue Eyes said. “I thought this was supposed to be a rescue?”
“It is,” Hawk said. “The soldiers were supposed to be here. I guess they’re a little delayed.”
“A little delayed? We’re trapped out here in zombie country and they’re a little delayed?”
“Plans don’t always work out the way we hoped,” Hawk said.
“Clearly not. We need to get somewhere safe.”
Hawk shut his eyes and focused not on the giant horde heading directly for them, but the streets in either direction. A thin trickle of undead approached from those directions too.
“We can’t stay on the streets,” Hawk said. “We’ll get in one of the houses and wait until they pass.”
He scanned the options available and took off for the nearest one. The door was locked, but with help from a couple of others, they got the door open. Hawk rushed in first, taking the stairs up to the second floor and scanned the building for any trace of the undead. There were none. “All clear!”
Blue Eyes trailed the rear and locked the door behind her. The gang proceeded up another two sets of stairs before reaching the top. As the hostages filed past him onto the rooftop, Hawk heard the creatures thumping and scraping at the front door, picking at it with their fingers. Without the locks in place—they’d had to break them to get inside—it was only a matter of time before they breached.
Each dirty thud shook the hostages, the mothers hugging their children close, the youngest whimpering and crying. They weren’t the only ones. Some of the adults paced up and down, shaking in their boots. They’d never faced anything like this before and likely hadn’t even run i
nto a zombie. Now they were getting it full in the face, thrust full-blown into the action, huddled like this amongst fluttering sheets and soiled flower pots.
A crash as the front door burst open and the creatures flooded the first floor, fighting, biting and scrapping with the furniture. Hawk shut the door, careful not to make a sound.
11.
TOMMY
The following morning, Tommy awoke early. He snorted in his sleep and took a moment to remember where he was. In the front seat of a tiny car, he thought. That’s where he was.
Guy grunted in his sleep, curled up in a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees. How he could sleep like that, Tommy didn’t know. Beside him, Emin lay on her side, arm curled protectively around Jimmy. All fast asleep.
Tommy rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and stretched—having to lean to one side to fully extend his arms. He glanced at the clock. Still early. He rolled his head to one side and got comfortable to continue sleeping. He wondered why Guy hadn’t thought to sleep beside him in the front passenger seat. After all, it was empty. It made no sense to sleep rolled up in a ball like that.
He jolted awake.
The front passenger seat was empty. It shouldn’t have been empty. Albert should have been fast asleep on it. He worked his way around each of the windows, looking for the old man’s familiar lopsided stance. He couldn’t see him anywhere—
There!
Out the passenger window and moving between the trees.
Tommy pulled the handle and stepped outside. He shunted back, still strapped into his seatbelt. He unclipped it and shut the door behind him. He moved around the car, feet unsteady on the uneven ground. He slipped and immediately picked himself up. He dusted himself off and marched toward the man with long steps.
Albert stood pressed against a tree, peering around the rough bark at something beyond.
“Albert. You should stay in the car—”
“Sh.”
Tommy struggled to keep himself from losing his shit. This man understood nothing about the world and its dangers. A momentary lapse in concentration and a zombie could have its jaws wrapped around his throat. But he tore himself from his anger and peered at what the old man was focusing on.
Half-consumed by the early morning mist, a full-grown stag grazed on open plain grass. The creature was a real marvel. Its antlers were coarse as fresh bark and twisted in weeping willow curls. Something spooked a flock of birds and the great stag stood at its full height and glanced over its shoulder. Then he turned in their direction and peered directly at them.
Tommy’s bowels turned to water and he felt a shiver run over his skin that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. Another flock of birds took flight and the great beast had taken as much risk as he was willing to endure and with a powerful thrust of his hind legs, disappeared into the mist.
Albert stood there a moment, eyes still focused on that spot where the stag had stood, as if he could still see it and was savoring the memory of it.
Finally, he spoke. “I had no idea.”
“No idea of what?”
“That they were so beautiful. I’ve seen pictures, video footage, but they don’t convey how majestic they truly are. Such impressive beasts.”
“Sorry to spoil the mood, but you can’t take off like that without letting us know where you’re going.”
“If I did that, I wouldn’t have got to enjoy this moment.”
“You might not get to enjoy many more moments with a zombie wrapped around your throat.”
“It was worth it.” Albert’s smile was genuine. “I wanted to enjoy this moment by myself, to see something no one else has ever seen before, and never would.”
“Plenty of people have seen stags.”
“Not this stag. And not right here, not right now.”
Albert was still mesmerized by the image, his expression told of him floating off somewhere only the great meditation masters knew. A place of total inner peace.
“Just let me know next time,” Tommy said. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’ve had enough of telling people where I’m going and what I’m thinking and what I’m doing. I wanted to experience a little freedom. I thought I could find it out here, out here if nowhere else.”
Tommy looked the old man over, trying to decide if he was being serious. Despite the stakes, what was happening, Tommy couldn’t berate the old man. He’d likely had a difficult life and been prodded and probed incessantly. “Okay.”
Albert blinked in surprise. “Okay?”
“Yes. It’s your life. You should do what you want with it.”
“All right then,” Albert said in the tone of a man not used to getting his way. “Let’s return to the car.”
They walked side by side over the marshy ground that sucked at their boots.
“I’ve been thinking about this Architect of yours,” Albert said. “He’s the type who plans for everything?”
“Everything imaginable.”
“And you, you are the same?”
“Not to that degree, but I like to be prepared.”
“So, maybe it makes sense for us to stop making so many plans, to let the chips fall where they may. Like jazz.”
“Jazz?” Tommy said. It was an interesting concept but. . . He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because we need to know what his plans are. Then we can make a plan to defeat him.”
“Have you known what his plans have been up till now?”
“No.”
“And how have things been going?”
Tommy pursed his lips and looked away. Admitting failure wasn’t easy for him. “Not well.”
“We can’t know what his plans are, not all of them. But that’s a part of him we can’t control in any case. Best to relax and react as best we can. Besides, we have something he doesn’t know about.”
“The weapons?”
Albert grinned.
“I’m not comfortable putting the world’s future in the hands of fate. And neither should you be. There’s too much at risk.”
“You said it yourself. There’s no way to know what his intricate plans are, then isn’t the obvious solution not to plan at all?”
Albert opened his door and climbed in.
“Ngh?” Guy said, jolting awake. “Are we under attack?”
Albert shut the door behind him, waking the others. “Only by the munchies, my friend.”
The idea was anathema to Tommy. Having no plans meant going into battle without knowing what your enemy might do, and yet, when he went on undercover missions, despite all the high-tech satellite images and detailed briefings, something somewhere always came out of left field, something they had to deal with on the fly. Wasn’t the situation the same now?
Tommy shook his head. The stakes were different. If he failed on a mission, only his life—or, heaven forbid, his team’s lives—were at risk. The Architect held the world in his hands. Fail, and they lost everything.
* * *
Tommy tapped the indicator. “We’re running low on fuel. We’ll need to stop and find more or we’ll be walking the rest of the way.”
By the groans of disapproval at his back, nobody wanted that.
“I hope it’s easier to get fuel than last time,” Guy said.
Albert turned back in his seat. “What happened last time?” None of the others met his eyes.
“Let’s just say it was challenging,” Emin said.
Albert turned back to face forward. “I never thought things were so tough on the surface. According to the scientists working in my lab, living is much easier than this.”
“They were until the virus came,” Guy said. “Then everything went to hell.”
“Guy.” Emin’s tone was harsh. She gestured to Jimmy with her eyes.
“The word hell isn’t swearing.”
“It is if you’re Christian.”
“I’m not Christian.”
“Some o
f us are.”
“Some of us? Tommy and Albert don’t strike me as particularly religious. Jimmy, did you go to church every Sunday?”
Jimmy shook his head.
“Right,” Guy said. “So, you’re religious. Because of that, the rest of us have to temper our language? I thought we were a democracy?”
“We can still be democratic.” Emin’s eyes were coal pits. “And we can be considerate at the same time.”
“Glad to hear it,” Guy said. “You can be considerate too and not expect us to pussyfoot around your fragile sensibilities.” He put a hand to his mouth. “Oops. I just said pussy. Is that word allowed?”
Emin glared at him. “Yes, pussy is allowed.”
“Good. I like pussies. Jimmy, do you like pussies?”
Emin put her hands over the boy’s ears. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy.”
“Well, Jimmy? Do you like warm pussies?”
“Now that’s pushing it.”
“Pushing pussies? That’s a new one. Maybe later you can show me what that entails—”
“A farm!” Albert said, pointing at a sign as it rushed past.
Tommy was pleased the man had managed to toss a wrench in the burgeoning argument on the backseat.
“A farm will have fuel,” Albert said. “They need a way to refuel their tractors and other machinery.”
“You mean, use a long hard pole and slide it into a hole and fill her up?” Guy said with a cocked eyebrow. “You only needed to ask.”
“You’re disgusting,” Emin said.
Guy frowned innocently. “I’m talking about machinery and cats. What are you talking about? Don’t blame me where your dirty mind goes.”
Tommy indicated and took them off-road. A hand-painted sign declared the place to be Hasher’s Farm. The driveway was rough and bumpy and took them through a dense copse of trees that thinned out as they approached a large patch of empty flatland. Before them, neatly arranged within a rectangle of dirt and gravel, was a large farmhouse and adjoining barn. Tommy pulled up to it.
Death Squad (Book 4): Zombie World Page 10
