At the gates I found Kev was chatting to Christopher and a chap I had only met a handful of times called Adrian. I heard Christopher mention to Kev that the pharmacies in town should really be thought about next if at all possible. Adrian made a quip that the best place to plunder in town was a family owned hardware store smack in the middle of the high street called Durcan’s but upstairs as that’s where all the best stuff was, to which they all laughed at. Must have been some kind of in joke for old residents of the town that I didn’t get and wasn’t party to. Kev assured Christopher that he would draw up some plans and that the reason we were going out today was to recce the town for more raiding opportunities. It was a lie obviously, but it didn’t mean we couldn’t have a quick look on the way back to give the story more cover.
After Christopher had bid us good luck and gone back to being king of the allotments, I spoke to Kev about the other three guys with us. I knew them and didn’t doubt their abilities in any way, but not sure what they had been told of this little mission. Kev assured me that they knew only that it was to meet a helicopter where he and I will be the only ones to have any dealings with the occupants and that they were there for back-up muscle should it be required. They were all offered extra takings or specific items from the next shopping trip should they keep quiet and agree to the cover story we were giving Christopher. That was fine by me, they had been on shopping trips with us and kept their mouths shut the same as the rest of us when we got extras, so I trusted them.
The five of us in five off road vehicles, mine, Kev’s Mitsubishi, the police 90, Johns Suzuki driven by Adrian and Classic range rover rolled out of the gates, turned left and headed past the petrol station and garage towards town but turning right where we had turned left the last time we had visited. We passed what looked like a land locked grey metal and glass boat on the right that turned out to be the local library, a bus station which was just a parking area with a metal and glass bus shelter with benches, then turned right past an old ale drinkers pub and another garage then up a winding one-track lane to the woods and golf course. We were lucky that there were no abandoned cars going up here blocking the tiny, tight road as it would have been a bastard to get past them here with sheer drops off to one side. We arrived at the club house car park an hour early as planned. A quick blast around the edges of the immediate area to make sure we were not going to be surprised by a swarm of zombies and then we drove into the open and parked in a semi-circle pointing back towards the woods and our individual chosen escape routes.
We got out and with weapons in hand we sat, watched and waited. Kev had his binoculars out and stood in the bed of his pick-up scanning the skies, the radio was on and was telling us that The Isle of Wight, Brown Sea Island and The Isle of Mann were added to the list of Islands and areas that are now infection free, though I was a bit dubious how long some would last if they don’t have a stock of supplies to keep them self-sufficient though.
We had only been there kicking our heels for just over thirty minutes when Paul shouted that he was sure he had heard a helicopter. We all shut up and listened intently but couldn’t hear it. I was about to say he was hearing things and that it was too early for them but then the wind changed direction and we could all hear it momentarily. We all looked at each other, Paul was right, there was a helicopter on its way.
‘They’re bloody early!’ Kev remarked looking around left and right, not being able to pin point where it was coming from. We still couldn’t see them though.
‘They must be hugging the tree tops in the valleys.’ I said. ‘But why?’
‘We know they are coming so why try and hide their approach?’ Asked Paul ‘It’s not like they think we are likely to have anti-aircraft capabilities and luring them into a trap is it?’ He scoffed.
The rotor noise came and went like an on-off wave of sound for the next minute or so and then to our right a helicopter rose rapidly out of the valley up high and circled us twice with its nose tipped towards us aggressively. Very Airwolf. The windows front and side had a dark tint so it could well have been piloted by Stringfellow Hawk for all I knew.
‘Ummmmm.’ Shane piped up. ‘This isn’t good people.’ We all looked down at him on the ground from the pick-up bed and he continued. ‘Anyone else seen the film Black Hawk Down?’ I shook my head as did Paul. ‘The Black Hawk is an American forces helicopter!’
Shit! ‘So much for veiled speech then. What do we do now?’ I asked no one in particular. It could have been that they were just using a Black Hawk as it was all they had, our military had been through years of cuts of late, though I wasn’t sold on that idea. The helicopter circled twice in a decreasing circle above us while also coming lower. The side door slid open, and we could see approximately five figures dressed in black, two of them ready to get out as soon as it touched down. I could see from here that they held what looked like a version of the M16 that you always saw in Vietnam era onwards war movies but with a grenade launcher underneath. I couldn’t tell you what they were called as I didn’t have a clue. What I did know was that 1, they packed way more of a punch than we could muster with our MP5’s and rifles and 2, they didn’t look friendly and like they had come bearing gifts, anything but, and they weren’t holding our military’s unique looking SA80 rifles. These black clad sons of bitches most definitely weren’t who we had organised to meet with today!
Paul, Rob and Shane made for the other side of their vehicles for cover with their weapons ready in the aim. Kev and I were about to do the same when we heard multiple ‘whooshing’ sounds, less than twenty-five yards from the right side of the helicopter as we looked at it. Streaking from out of the woodland treeline trailing plumes of smoke and sparks were what must have been firework rockets. There must have been about fifteen of them! They weren’t your little milk bottle popper rockets that you can buy for a few quid at the local corner shop though, these were big ass display type rockets. As many as five of them looked like they went straight in through the now open side door, hitting at least one guy in the chest, knocking him back into the cabin and bouncing around inside the cabin with their arse ends showering out scorching hot flames and choking smoke before exploding with huge, chest thumping bass like explosions that we could feel on the ground along with flame and sparkles. While some of the rockets missed altogether and fought a losing battle to light the already day light sky, others hit the body work and rotors. It was unbeknown to us at the time but each of the rockets had ten feet of thin high tensile cable attached to them with four 17mm nuts spaced out equally on the last two feet. The ones that hit or caught on the rotor where whipped around by the rotor blades like a supersonic cat-o-nine tails, smashing into the wind screen, body work and engine, denting and smashing whatever they hit over and over many times a second. The combination of explosions, flashes, flame and damage from whipping cables must have really disorientated and no doubt badly injured the pilots never mind blinded those in the rear.
This all happened in just seconds, the helicopter gained altitude briefly just as the rockets that had found their way inside exploded. We could then hear several three round bursts of gun fire coming from ground level and saw Camouflage emerging from the woods, laying well aimed rounds into the helicopter for good measure, dressed in a Ghillie suit and looking like the Terminator version of The Man of the Woods, pissed that someone had taken a shit in his morning porridge, scary as fuck was an understatement!
We joined in from our hiding places behind our vehicles with rifle, shotgun and MP5 fire. The fuselage was sparking from a combination of bullet strikes and the nuts on the wires caught in the spinning rotors. The helicopter banked sharply to its left, spilling two of the guys out to the very overgrown fairway, span uncontrollably as it climbed another forty or so feet and then dove nose first, slamming hard into the ground, the fuselage crumpling like a ball of tin foil and then bursting into a huge ball of flames just the other side of the hill a hundred and fifty yards away. We could feel the heat of the fireb
all momentarily until the wind changed direction yet again bathing us in cool air.
Shit! What had we done? Had we really just dropped a chopper full of American soldiers. From the way they were dressed they were possibly special forces. We all ran to the crash site. The two that had fallen out were dead. Both were scorched and blackened from the rocket exhaust and explosions, one was full of bullet holes and the other with a head split like a melon despite his helmet. Paul stabbed the one with an intact head in the brain to ensure we would have no after death teeth gnashing style trouble from him.
Camouflage confirmed the Helicopter as being a Pave Hawk HH60G, a variant of the Black Hawk just as Shane had mentioned, but with blacked out windows, no markings and other things, this was a pimped out, get in and out snatch version for capturing The Answer from us. We took their rifles, pistols, ammo, vest, one working night vision goggle, comms the lot. The wreckage that wasn’t burning we quickly sifted through it for anything useful. Of the rifles (M4a1 with adjustable stock, rails with Mag lights and laser sights and a M203 grenade launcher under slung so Camouflage told us with a low, appreciative whistle) we found in the crash site a total of three were undamaged but umpteen magazines and M203 grenades for the underslung grenade launchers. I felt a like a god holding this much firepower, and if camouflage could drop a helicopter with fireworks, I dread to think what he could do with one or two of these bad boys! 9mm Glock 19 pistols were recovered too along with many loaded magazines, this was quite a haul, we may not worry too much that the visitors from Bristol may not give us any!
We scavenged what we could and got it all into the back of the Mitsubishi L200 and under cover. Camouflage was just about to go back into the woods when we heard a familiar noise of rotors, he turned and looked to the sky, then Camouflage burst into a run and dived into cover, no doubt manning his home made Patriot Weapons System (it may have cost about 10 millionth of the real thing and assembled from scratch within a day but it was already confirmed as operational and effective). The Helicopter wasn’t sticking to the valleys, it was flying up high and in the open as it were, they wanted us to know they were coming. It flew over us, did one wide circle, stopping over the plume of smoke from the wrecked chopper then hovered to its left to be directly in front of us and nodded its nose at us. Kev waved back, it then lowered, landed, and powered down, but didn’t fully stop its rotors. The door opened and six guys with Maroon berets and bristling in weapons stepped off. Five fanned out in a defensive perimeter and one approached us with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, Kev, Paul and I slowly approached him, making sure that our weapons were available but not pointed in any threatening manner towards him or his well-armed and all-seeing soldiers.
He was of average height, wiry and had a Nepalese look about him and at first I took him to be a Gurkha. He had Para wings on his shoulder (but then so did Camouflage and he wasn’t a Paratrooper. He had joked before that a Para gets a three week jump course to earn the wings. He and his Commando mates got forty-eight hours before they had to jump out of a plane) above the three chevrons marking him out as a sergeant. He approached us with one hand holding the duffle bag and the other out in view visibly empty. He had no weapons of his own, at least none on show. ‘Good morning gentlemen. I am Sergeant Pun. We are Pathfinders from 16th Air Assault group.’ He placed the duffle bag in front of him. ‘This bag contains an encrypted communications device, charger, some complimentary medical items including penicillin, shot gun shells and .22 rifle ammunition.’ He looked over at the plume of smoke from the burning helicopter. ‘Though I’m sure you may have supplemented your armoury from this… windfall?’ And tilted his head as if waiting for an explanation from us.
It didn’t come from us but came from the tree line. Camouflage emerged, still dressed in his ghillie suit, rifle in one arm out stretched and the other the same but empty. He was soon covered by two of the Paras nearest him. ‘I can explain Sergeant!’ He put the rifle down, took off his hood, then put his hands back up in the air. The two Paras covering him gave him the nod for him to continue and walk towards us.
Kev jumped in before anyone else. ‘He’s with us. He took down the helicopter when we all realised they weren’t you guys.’
‘With just that rifle?’ The sergeant asked unbelieving. We said nothing. He repeated louder as camouflage approached. ‘You take that chopper down with just that rifle?’
Camouflage approached and lowered his hands, still under the watchful eyes of the other Paras and smiled a huge white toothy smile through the thick, cracked cammo face paint. ‘No sir, with fifteen firework display rockets a bit of ingenuity and being a sneaky nasty bastard.’
‘Pretty impressive.’ Pun looked at him dressed in the ghillie suit and cammed up face paint. ‘Are you ex forces or a Walt who can actually walk the walk for a change?’
’42 commando Royal Marines Sir.’ Camouflage announced proudly.
Pun took a look to his side; his men were back a little way and had the noise of the rotors and wash to deal with. He approached a few steps towards Camouflage and spoke slightly quieter though still loud enough to be heard by Camouflage. ‘Not sure if you have heard on the radio or not but any members of the forces are expected to make their way to the nearest stronghold and report for duty, doesn’t matter what arm of the forces, we are all in it together.’
Camouflage’s fists started to ball up. I thought he was going to lump the sergeant there and then. I made to step in, but Pun pointed a finger at me but said nothing, it was enough to stop me in my tracks though. He looked at me then Camouflage. ‘BUT!’ He looked from Camouflage to me and then back to Camouflage again, he said it again. ‘But, you just told me that you were ‘once’ in 42 Commando, you were discharged two years ago after already serving many years’ service, so I cannot have you arrested and taken back to base to serve. Anyway, if I am honest, from the look of it you will do more good for these people here than you ever will in a platoon just hunting zombies like we do.’ Camouflage relaxed several notches with that and nodded his thanks. ‘So, you ‘used’ to be in the marines did you? Great job for a civilian, great job for anyone. My men will have a look over the helicopter to get some idea of who it was that tried to beat us to it.’ He turned and motioned with a waving hand for two of his men to do so. ‘Shouldn’t get this trouble with the encrypted comms now. Now, I believe you have something very important for me to take back for the science bods?’
‘We do.’ I said. ‘This is envelope holds a copy of all our doctors’ notes, a memory card with video recordings of the experiment and this.’ I pulled out a cool bag and opened it to show a quarter pint of blood from Sue surrounded by ice.
Pun took it. ‘You’ve got ice too where you come from?’ He asked.
‘We are a pretty resourceful bunch of people, I’m sure you may have noticed?’
He looked around at the burnt-out helicopter as his men came back. ‘You aren’t fucking kidding! Wait until they hear about this back home.’ He looked at Camouflage again and stared a ‘Remember what I said look.’ And continued. ‘Amazing work for a bunch of civvies!’ One of the Paras came over and spoke quickly into Puns ear. He smiled, spoke back to the chaps’ ear and turned to us as the Para headed back to the helicopter with an arm full of liberated stuff. ‘Congratulations former Royal Marine, you just killed yourself six Delta Force operators and two special ops pilots with just fifteen fireworks. Out-fucking-standing!’ Camouflage was beaming from ear to ear.
‘What do we do now?’ Asked Kev.
‘Wait for the science bods to contact you I suppose and maybe we will meet again?’ We all shook his hand, he looked around at the burning helicopter as he was leaving. ‘Some yanks are going to shit bricks when they realise that this towns people can do that!’ And off he went, they all piled back in, the engine revs built up and the helicopter took to the sky, one of the Paras giving us the thumbs up and a huge ass grin as he slid the door closed.
‘We had better get out of here, all thes
e shots, explosions and helicopters will attract any zombies in the woods up here.’ I said getting concerned that we hadn’t seen one for almost two hours, it wasn’t natural not to see one now. I was also gutted that we hadn’t seen a zombie golfer wandering the holes with his clubs in tow. Made me think of a little game of zombie bingo, but that could wait for another time.
‘I only saw eight the whole of last night and this morning, not had to kill one of them either, I’m a master of Camouflage obviously, but you’re right, this noise will attract them.’ Said Camouflage as he loaded up his firework powered anti-aircraft rig and gear into the back of the Mitsubishi and got ready to go.
Chapter 5
The trip through the woods back towards the school was un-eventful for us, the odd zombie but I resisted hitting them with the 90. Everyone had taken their pre-determined routes back, Kev and Paul did a quick scout of two of the local Pharmacies that were on the road back through town and didn’t need any diversion for, ready for another organised raid in the next few days. They stopped and literally ran in, stabbed and clubbed to death three OAP zombies who were more sprightly now than they had no doubt been before their deaths on Sanatagen vitamins alone, filled a few baskets with plasters, bandages, cough and flu medicines, pain killers and tooth brushes and paste. When done, they secured the front door through the frame and door with self-tapping screws and a short piece of pre-drilled metal strap. It should stop anymore zombies getting in and securing it for when a proper raid could be conducted on them. He didn’t really need to, but it would give good depth to the story that we had scouted them out, throw them off if they had linked us to the helicopters and also solve the issue of where we got the antibiotics from. All in all they only had to kill eight zombies on the way in and out on the street, though further down the street, by the fabled Durcan’s shop, it was thick with them in their hundreds. They were back and giving the full baskets, mixed with our present of antibiotics from Bristol to an appreciative and very thankful Christopher not too long after I got the tarp and hammock back up again.
The Reanimated Dead (Book 2): The Answer Page 4
