by Hatchett
The previous day. What a blast!
Saying goodbye to Ayla and watching her cute arse waddling away as she headed off towards her home…him and Ahmed scouting out the area around the Waterside Pub, next to Regent’s canal on the Islington / Hoxton border…checking out the nearby area and the Islington Canal Tunnel…finding the ideal boat on the canal…hunting around the nearby streets trying to find two black zombies which were of similar height and build to themselves…searching for the gear that he needed for his plan.
He laughed aloud.
The plan and set-up had almost been too easy overall, not that he and Ahmed didn’t have to endure a little hardship along the way. It had taken fucking ages to find a couple of suitable zombies a few streets away and it had been a hell of a struggle getting the bastards bound and gagged without getting bitten, then carrying the fuckers like rolls of carpet to the boat whilst they were still ‘alive’ and wriggling like worms. Then tying them securely to the seats. It hadn’t been much fun later being on the boat with the two zombies just a few feet away, both straining hard against their restraints, desperately trying to get to him. He must admit, he’d been a bit paranoid about checking those restraints every few minutes.
However, the worst part, without doubt, had been swimming in the fucking canal, knowing what was lurking beneath the surface but not knowing how far they were away from you, shitting yourself that your leg was going to be grabbed at any second and you’d be pulled under into the waiting arms – and mouths – of the zombies below. Mamba had definitely had a sweat on by the time he’d finished that part of his plan, and it wasn’t all from the exercise.
He’d actually hoped Ayla would just go home, have a chat with Sully then come back alone, but he’d suspected all along that she wouldn’t be able to stay undetected, so he and Ahmed had needed to take some additional precautions.
Ahmed had built two bombs which they’d hidden in the pub; Basir had been a good teacher on that front. Ahmed had then retreated to the apartment they were currently in and watched the show from relative safety.
Mamba had sat in the boat with his two new mates for fucking hours, doing bugger all except watching the pub and surrounding area and frequently checking that the zombies weren’t going to free themselves. Now that would’ve really ruined his plans.
Then he’d seen Ayla come waltzing along the canal path as if she didn’t have a care in the fucking world, looking around and almost bloody skipping with excitement. She was probably singing some stupid fucking song as she went, ‘I’d like to teach the World to sing’ by the New Seekers or some shit. She needed to wake up! When Mamba got hold of her, he’d…well that was a difficult one. She needed putting straight in no uncertain terms, but Mamba also had other intentions and he was pretty sure which would come first. No pun intended.
Once Ayla was in the pub, the bloody soldiers couldn’t have been more obvious if they tried, as they moved into position. Mamba knew they’d think he and Ahmed were in there. Duh! He wasn’t that fucking stupid. They actually did him a favour by taking Ayla out and marching her off to safety while the rest of the idiots searched the premises. It had been a fucking pleasure pressing the button and watching the pub disintegrate in front of his eyes, although he did regret wasting all that booze.
The one thing he hadn’t really considered was the aftermath of the explosion; Mamba had been thrown away from the boat’s window and bumped into one of the seated zombies before falling to the floor as the boat rocked to and fro on the disturbed water and debris rained down all over the area, some bits and pieces thumping down onto the boat.
Mamba had prayed that none of the pieces were burning and thankfully his prayers had been answered. He’d checked the zombies were still secure then resumed his observation of the area.
Mamba had seen the soldiers melt away into the darkness after the bombs had gone off. He wasn’t expecting this; he’d thought they’d all come running, but no such luck. A real shame as his finger was itching to detonate the second bomb, assuming it hadn’t gone off during the initial blast. He didn’t think it had; he was sure he’d only heard one explosion, but who knew? He wished he’d had the foresight to get Ahmed to plant a few more bombs around the area, but he’d needed to be careful that he didn’t block his own escape route. Still, he’d inflicted some damage on them and they would be hurting.
He’d considered whether to just wait for them all to bugger off then slip away later under the cover of darkness, but as they had already disappeared, he didn’t know if they had gone for good or were just waiting a short distance away, waiting for back up before they really started searching every nook and cranny. He could hear at least one of their fuckin’ helicopters buzzing around overhead, and this just re-enforced his view that they were still around somewhere in the surrounding darkness.
As he’d been pondering the situation, he’d spotted unnatural movement on the bridge to the West and he’d quickly zoomed in with his binoculars. There was a figure standing there and, whilst it looked like a zombie, it was almost motionless. Zombies were constantly moving.
He’d decided that he had no choice but to implement the last part of his back-up plan, the part he was least looking forward to, but a part he couldn’t really avoid, not if he wanted them to think he was dead.
He’d moved to the doorway of the cabin and carefully released the only rope holding the boat to the side of the wharf. He’d then moved to the front of the cabin, turned on the engine, switched on the front spotlights, opened the throttle and steered the boat into the main part of the canal. Heading West, he lined up the boat with the bridge and opened the throttle all the way. The boat had surged forwards and, as he got closer to the bridge, he waved at the figure standing there, seeing the person react and start to move.
He’d been expecting bullets to rake the boat as he’d hurtled underneath the bridge, but he’d obviously caught them by surprise.
He’d sped on for another forty metres and passed the City Road Basin on his left. Another forty metres and he passed under the Danbury Street Bridge and eighty metres later he entered the Islington Canal Tunnel, a straight, narrow tunnel about nine hundred metres long.
He’d then quickly tied a length of cord to the steering wheel, and leaving the throttle open, waited until he was about halfway through the tunnel before he’d run to the back of the boat and jumped.
The boat continued forwards as Mamba began treading water, then he looked around for the fluorescent marker he’d left on the tunnel wall and started swimming towards it.
He was still swimming when he’d heard a loud explosion and turned to see the end of the tunnel lit up, parts of his boat burning on top of the water. He laughed to himself. He could read these fuckers like a book. He just knew they’d use one of their helicopters and their rockets to try and take him out. That was the second time they’d tried the same stunt, both with the same result. Too predictable.
Of course, he’d considered the fact that the helicopters might not be there, so Ahmed had put another bomb on the boat so that it would detonate as soon as it hit something solid, like a wall. He felt that he’d pretty much thought of every eventuality.
Then he’d had the shock of his fuckin’ life, and it wasn’t his ankle being grabbed by some Zombie beneath the surface; another fuckin’ boat was entering the tunnel from the direction he had come. This had not been expected.
So, he’d moved to the side of the tunnel and kept himself as low in the water as possible. Thank fuck it’d been dark. He’d waited until the last minute before he took a deep breath and ducked under the water, waiting for the boat to pass above him. He was absolutely shitting himself and his heart was beating far too fast; he felt he was too close to the zombies below and not deep enough to avoid any propeller, but luck had been with him and as soon as the boat had passed, he pushed himself back to the surface where he took in a deep lungful of dirty air.
There wasn’t a moment to waste and Mamba had then quickly swum to his
marker and the grate in the wall which he’d unlocked earlier. Or smashed open was more like it. He opened the grate, hauled himself in and closed it again behind him, making sure to lock it with a new padlock he’d left there for just that purpose.
He was in a tunnel about a metre wide, some sort of drainage channel which inclined slightly upwards for around a hundred metres until it ended at a short vertical section with another grate above, leading back above ground.
The tunnel had been damp, slimy and smelled like shit, but at least there was only a trickle of water heading in his direction and he’d been able to walk crouched over without too much difficulty, careful not to slip on any of the slime. He made good progress towards the exit grate, where he’d left a holdall hanging from a piece of metal protruding from the wall. He quickly peeled off his black wetsuit, dried himself on a towel then changed into a set of bloody clothes and covered himself in fresh zombie guts, ready for the final part of his escape. He pulled out a couple of new hunting knives he’d selected from a shop earlier that day and was ready to go.
He checked the road above through the holes in the grate as best he could, before pushing it upwards and moving it to one side. He then quickly climbed out of the drain and replaced the grate. This had been the most dangerous part of his plan because he didn’t know if there would be any soldiers around. If there had been, he’d be dead. However, there had been no reaction or shouts and he’d sighed with relief when he’d realised that he was almost in the clear. His sudden movements had attracted several zombies nearby and Mamba didn’t have time to reach for his weapons and take them out. Instead, he’d held his breath and stood still as a couple got up real close and personal, before eventually losing interest and shuffling away.
Mamba had then taken his time, getting his breath back, surveying the surrounding area before shuffling off in the direction of the apartments where Ahmed was waiting.
He’d hunched over and shuffled along slowly just in case there were soldiers around and his caution had paid off; he had spotted a couple hidden in the shadows of a side road. It was just a shame that Ayla wasn’t here to watch; she could have learnt from the master how to blend in and move around unobserved.
The soldiers were wearing black combat gear and whilst were clearly ‘dirty’, they still stood out like sore thumbs to him. He had considered sidling up to them and taking them out with his virgin knives, and whilst the temptation was certainly there, he’d managed to keep his discipline. The location was a little too close to his destination and he didn’t want to leave any unnecessary trail. If he’d killed them, they’d know straight away that he was still alive, and he wanted them to think he was dead. He just hoped the bodies on the boat would do the job; hopefully they would be damaged, but not too damaged after the explosion, but even if they were, he’d left his knife and one of his pistols behind in his rucksack for good measure.
So, he’d ended up moving fairly close to the soldiers and listened to them whispering to each other and communicating with their colleagues over their comms for a while, before they were ordered to withdraw. Mamba knew at that point that they must’ve found the bodies, or his other evidence, and suspected that he and Ahmed were finally dead. He’d smiled and made his way back to the apartment block.
Ahmed had been lying on the patio, binoculars to his eyes, scouring the area below when Mamba returned.
He’d crawled back inside the apartment before standing and making his way over to Mamba where they spontaneously hugged each other. He’d whispered in Mamba’s ear to keep quiet, then went on to explain how at least three or four of the soldiers had used an apartment just a few floors below to watch proceedings, just as Ahmed had done. He’d surreptitiously watched them and tried to listen in on their conversations but hadn’t been able to pick up anything useful. The irony of it! God, how they had laughed.
Mamba now decided it was time to get up. That was enough dreaming for one day.
He threw back the cream coloured duvet and swung his legs off the bed. He then stood and dressed before leaving the room and headed in the direction of the snoring.
He entered Ahmed’s room and walked up to the bed before slapping Ahmed hard on his legs.
“WAKEY, WAKEY!”
Ahmed shot out of bed, stark naked, grabbing a knife on the side table as he did so. He spun around ready to attack and stopped when he saw Mamba staring at him with a big grin on his face.
“What the fuck did ya do that for?” Ahmed demanded heatedly.
“Interrupted a wet dream, did I? Mamba asked innocently.
“Fuck off Mamba,” Ahmed snarled, lowering his knife and reaching for his clothes.
“Got out the wrong side of the bed, have we?” Mamba cajoled.
Ahmed ignored him and continued getting dressed.
“Get a fuckin’ move on, Ahmed,” Mamba instructed, “We’ve got things ta do,” as he turned and left the bedroom.
5
Day 16 – 09:00
Heathrow Terminal 3, Security Briefing Room
Jack looked around the table, mostly empty spaces that morning, so it would be a very short meeting.
Sarah had flown Bear and Irish back up to Manchester with a squad of soldiers earlier that morning to continue setting up a second base at Manchester airport.
Dave had gone back to Battersea the previous evening and stayed there to review its defences following the bombing attacks. He’d had the idea of putting some kind of loudspeaker on a boat in the Thames to try and lure the zombies into the water, and he was going to try it out.
Daniel and Sean had gone back to the Tower to continue to help rebuild the wrecked cordon and coordinate the continuing search for possible survivors at the Green Park Estate. No one was holding out any hope on that score. At least they now had clear access to the Tower Bridge hotel. Daniel’s biggest problem was trying to stop Isaac and Zak from doing something stupid following their mother’s death.
Andy and Travis were already outside continuing work on a twenty metre ‘no man’s land’ the other side of the outer perimeter to prevent people like Mamba sneaking up unseen and planting bombs against the fence. Another in a long line of lessons learned. Pretty much everyone at Heathrow had put aside their current roles to help; it was a large area to cover and the sooner it was done, the safer everyone would feel, and things could then hopefully go back to some sort of normality.
Joel was using the helicopters to follow up on leads provided to him by Tom on possible survivors and scouting for supplies.
That left Jack, the Major, Issy and Gina who intended to spend a little more time trying to find out as much as they could from Ayla, before deciding what to do with her.
There was a knock on the door and Tom Williams, Head of surveillance, entered the room and sat in his usual seat at the far end of the table.
“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered as he took off his glasses and rubbed his puffy eyes before opening a file and pulling out various A4 sheets of paper.
Although Tom looked like a typical nerd with his slight frame and owlish looks, his greying brown hair was sticking out more than usual and his clothes were all creased as if he had slept in them.
“No problem,” Jack confirmed. “You OK?”
“I will be when we’re fully operational,” Tom snapped back, which caused a few eyebrows to rise around the room. Tom was usually the epitome of calm and efficiency, so it was clear he had taken the attack a few days earlier very personally.
Tom was tired. Very tired. He did feel responsible for the bombings which had taken out many of his beloved surveillance cameras around the perimeter of the airport and he’d hardly slept for the past sixty hours or so since it had happened. He thought that his team should have picked up the bombers and raised the alarm, but his team hadn’t provided any warning and that simply wasn’t good enough.
“Right, where are we?” Tom muttered to himself.
“Heathrow,” Issy replied, trying to raise the mood, but Tom didn’t eve
n look up from his papers.
“The security cameras have all been replaced and are operational,” Tom began. “We have added extra cameras, many of which are now hidden and there isn’t a millimetre of the perimeter or the surrounding area which we can’t see.”
“That’s good to know,” the Major acknowledged encouragingly, but again, Tom didn’t look up.
“We’re looking at the feasibility of setting up pressure pads in the no man’s land to set off alarms if anything approaches,” Tom continued, “and we’re also looking at whether we can set up automatic fire or tactical bombs to go off if it does happen.”
“As long as we are absolutely clear where the safe sections are,” Jack cautioned. “I’d be a bit worried about putting a minefield outside the perimeter, regardless of how safe it might make us feel.
“Noted,” Tom confirmed. “Also, we have tried to figure out how they did it and what route they took, but unfortunately it’s not clear even when we reviewed all the tapes. They have certainly mastered the art of blending in with the zombies.”
“Good to know, and that’s all fine,” Jack accepted, “but, how are you? You look like you haven’t slept in days and you’re not doing us or yourself any favours if you’re overdoing it.”
“We’re busy,” Tom explained.
“I know that, but surely you have enough people in your team to keep things going. If not, we need to find you more resources.”
“We’re fine,” Tom confirmed. “A little tired, but we can sleep when we’re dead.”
“It could be sooner than you think at the rate you’re going,” Issy remarked.
Tom finally looked up.
“Honestly, we’re fine. We’re nearly back to where we were, in fact, we’ll be in a better position, then we can all catch up on sleep.”
“OK, thanks Tom,” Jack said, “but get some sleep.”
