by Hatchett
Three doors along there was one of Volkan’s men lying in the corridor, holding his wrist in vain as he attempted to stem the flow of blood dripping through his fingers. Another two of Volkan’s men had their knives drawn and were looking to enter the room as Mamba and Ahmed arrived.
“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Mamba shouted.
“Zombie in the room,” one of the Turks responded.
Mamba looked around the doorway to see a zombie heading their way. He looked back at the two Turks who seemed to be frozen to the spot.
“Well, fuckin’ kill it then!” Mamba shouted at them.
This woke them up and the two Turks raised their knives and inched forwards.
“For fuck’s sake!” Mamba shouted and pushed them aside. He took two large paces into the room and stabbed his knife into the zombie’s head.
He quickly checked there were no other zombies in the room and returned to the doorway.
“That’s how ya fuckin’ deal with ‘em! How the fuck have ya managed to survive this long, eh? More to the fuckin’ point, why did Volkan send ya two useless wankers with me?”
“We’ve only ever guarded the estate,” one of the Turks said, starting to tremble. “Volkan sent us with you to learn.”
“This ain’t a fuckin’ school,” Mamba remarked, then took a couple of deep breaths. “Who the fuck cleared this hotel and arranged for the cars if it weren’t ya?”
“Volkan used some of his other men. Ones who were used to leaving the estate to scavenge.”
“Any of ‘em here?”
“I don’t think so,” the Turk replied. “Most of us are new to all this.”
Mamba looked at Ahmed and shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t believe he sent these twats with us.”
Ahmed shrugged, turned and walked back down the corridor.
Mamba looked at the Turk on the floor. “How’d that happen?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
“Bitten by that thing,” the Turk on the floor replied through his tears, “and it fucking hurts.”
“Thought so,” Mamba said, as he stepped forward and plunged his knife into the Turk’s head.
The other two Turks stepped back in shock and horror. They tried to speak, but nothing came out as they backed away from Mamba.
“Get rid of the fuckin’ bodies ‘n get all yer crowd in the bar. Ya got five minutes or I’ll kill ya.”
The Turks didn’t move, scared and rooted to the spot.
“MOVE!” Mamba screamed, and the Turks were shocked into reacting. They quickly grabbed their dead colleague and started dragging the body along the corridor to the nearest fire exit.
Mamba watched them for a couple of seconds then retraced his steps to catch up with the others.
34
Day 17 – 14:45
Travelodge, Enfield
Mamba entered the bar area with Ahmed and surveyed the Turks seated all around in small groups. He was rubbing his shoulder and grimacing every now and again.
“Still hurtin’?” Ahmed asked.
“Like a bitch,” Mamba replied, “but some beer will help. Or a lotta beer!” he added with a grin.
Mamba saw that everyone appeared to have helped themselves to a drink from the bar before taking a seat. Issy, Gina and Ayla were sitting at a table with Basir, Umit and Emre. On the table next to them were Temel, Khalid and Mesut and several other brothers who Mamba hadn’t really seen or noticed before. The rest were Volkan’s people and they were sitting together around other tables, looking warily in Mamba’s direction. News had obviously spread about the two Turks Mamba had already killed, and they were concerned that they might be next on the list.
“Listen up,” Mamba said loudly, and all mutterings in the room ceased immediately. “I’ve jus’ found out that ya lot,” he pointed around the room in the direction of Volkan’s people, “know shit!” he spat in disgust. “Hands up if yer never left yer estate afore.”
Mamba counted fourteen hands, all Volkan’s people. That meant only four of Volkan’s people had left the estate. Mamba was annoyed; he thought he was getting Volkan’s experienced men who knew what they were doing. This bunch just better know how to fight or there would be serious trouble.
“Well, ya betta learn fuckin’ fast, ‘n when the time comes, ya betta be ready to fight ‘n kill.”
“We will,” one of Volkan’s men replied.
Mamba looked around the room. “Who said that?”
“I did. My name is Sami,” the Turk said, as he rose to his feet. Sami was taller than Mamba, younger, slimmer and better looking.
“Good,” Mamba smiled. “Someone with some gonads. Sit down.”
Sami did as he was told, a certain amount of relief etched on his face.
“There are two commandments; One, ya do as I say straight away, no messin’ or I kill ya. Two, if ya get bit, ya turn, so ya have ta die. Don’t give a shit if it’s a friend or bro, but ya gotta do it. No choice, no hesitatin’. We ain’t creatin’ more zombies. Anyone who can’t do it, tell me now.”
Everyone was looking around at one another, but no one raised their hand or stood up.
“We’ll do whatever you say,” Sami confirmed for them all.
Mamba nodded. “One more thing. The gear we was given to get dirty musta bin old. It don’t work, so we need fresh zombie blood and guts. Sami, get some of yer boys ‘n fill some pots. For the rest of ya, it’s time to party!”
Mamba was about to go to the bar to get another beer when Ayla appeared at his side and said, “You and Ahmed go sit down, I’ll get the drinks.”
She walked away as Mamba and Ahmed headed towards Basir’s table. He called over Faruk and Ismet on the way.
“When did ya do that zombie art?” he asked as they stood by the table facing him.
Faruk: “We’ve been doing it…”
Ismet: “Most days.”
Faruk: “Since it started. We’d talked about…”
Ismet: “Doing something before…”
Faruk: “But when the zombies
Ismet: “Came along...”
Faruk: “It was like a message to us…
Ismet: “From God...”
Faruk: “Telling us it was time”
Ismet: “To start…”
Faruk: “expressing ourselves…”
Ismet: “Properly.”
“Shite,” Ahmed muttered under his breath.
“Well, consider it expressed! I love it, especially all ‘em heads still bein’ alive ‘n the eyes followin’ ya everywhere ya go. Bet ya had to be careful not to get bit.”
Faruk: “Nah, the hardest part…”
Ismet: “Is chopping the head off intact.”
Faruk: “Once it’s off…”
Ismet: “We just stuff a rag in their mouths...”
Faruk: “Until it’s time for them to go on display.”
Ismet: “Then it’s ‘hey presto’.”
“Yeah, yer a right pair of magicians,” Ahmed muttered sarcastically, but it was lost on the others.
“Now ya see it, now ya don’t,” Mamba laughed, moving his hips backwards and forwards. “Bit like shaggin’ really!”
Faruk: “I wouldn’t know.”
Ismet: “Nor me.”
“Ya virgins?” Mamba asked in surprise and both men nodded. “Well, I’ll sort that out for ya!”
Faruk: “Thanks Mamba.”
Ismet: “Yeah, thanks.”
“Ya said ya wanted to do some art afore the zombies come. Did ya?” Mamba asked.
Faruk: “Only once.”
Ismet: “But we had lots of ideas.”
Faruk: “Yeah, lots and lots of ideas.”
Ismet: “Thousands of ideas.”
“I think I get the picture,” Mamba interrupted, before Faruk could continue, “Who was it?”
Faruk: “One of Sully’s harem.”
Ismet: “He thought she’d run away.”
Faruk: “Big woman,”
Ismet: �
��Plenty to play with,”
Faruk: “Malleable.”
Ismet: “Had piercings.”
Faruk: “In all sorts of places.”
Ismet: “Like…”
“Yeah, right,” Mamba interrupted again, cutting Ismet off. “What did ya do?” he asked eagerly, sitting forwards in his seat.
Faruk: “We chopped her up.”
Ismet: “Then stitched her back together again.”
Faruk: “But in the wrong order.”
Ismet: “She had arms instead of legs.”
Faruk: “And legs instead of arms.”
Ismet: “On backwards, of course.”
“Of course,” Ahmed muttered sarcastically.
Faruk: “Her top half faced one way.”
Ismet: “And the bottom half faced the other.”
The twins were getting visibly excited and Ahmed groaned.
Ismet: “We put her tongue between her legs.”
Faruk: “Sticking out of her…”
Ismet: “Fanny…”
Faruk: “And some fingers…
Ismet: “Up her...”
Faruk: “Arse…”
Ismet: “And put her eyes in her…”
Faruk: “Mouth.”
Ismet: “In her cheeks so…”
Faruk: “She looked like a…
Ismet: “Chipmunk.”
Faruk: “We…”
“I think I get the fuckin’ picture, thanks lads,” Ahmed interrupted, with a disgusted look on his face.
Mamba scowled at him. “OK. We’ll talk more later.”
Faruk and Ismet both nodded in unison.
“I get to watch next time,” Mamba said.
Ahmed shook his head in disgust.
Faruk: “You can help…”
Ismet: “If you want.”
Faruk: “That would be fun.”
Ismet: “Yeah, fun.”
“Maybe,” Mamba conceded. “Now, run along, we’ll speak again soon.”
Faruk and Ismet both left to go and sit together on their own.
“Told you they were looney tunes,” Basir pointed out.
“Need to be in a fuckin’ straitjacket,” Ahmed opined.
“Boys are jus’ having a bit of fun,” Mamba pointed out, “chill.”
“Bit of fun?” Ahmed asked incredulously. “They’re fuckin’ mental bro!”
“Yeah, they a brick short of a full load, but they OK.”
Ahmed just shook his head in bewilderment.
“What do ya think they did with the body?” Mamba asked casually.
“Who cares?” Ahmed asked. “Shame some fucker didn’t find it ‘n get ‘em locked up. Fuckin’ nutters!”
“Calm down, Ahmed. One man’s juice is another man’s poison ‘n all that,” Mamba said.
“Meat,” Ahmed pointed out.
“What?” Mamba asked, confused.
“It’s ‘one man’s meat is another man’s poison’,” Ahmed corrected.
“Alright smartarse!” Mamba riled. “Anyway, my version’s betta. Why else would people say, ‘what’s yer poison’ when askin’ what ya want ta drink?”
“Yer right,” Ahmed agreed. He really couldn’t be bothered to argue about it.
“Now yer jus’ bein’ sarcastic,” Mamba pointed out, “jus’ ‘cos yer wrong!”
Mamba suddenly looked around and shouted, “Where’s me fuckin’ drink!”
Ayla had been behind the bar putting glasses and bottles of spirits on it so that people could help themselves more easily. She then added bottles of beer, cider and mixers and anything else she could find in the now defunct fridges. She also added a few snacks she’d found, although some may well have been out of date.
“Get a move on,” Mamba shouted from his seat, “I’m gaspin’ here.”
“OK, OK, I’m coming,” Ayla replied.
Ayla walked across to Mamba’s table, taking a swig from one of the bottles. Basir had left the table to close the curtains and set up the battery-operated lights, so Ayla slumped down into his seat next to Mamba and across from Ahmed. She took another swig of her drink and watched as Mamba drank half his bottle in one go. He soon finished the rest.
“That was quick,” Ayla noted. “Everything OK?”
“Thirsty,” Mamba replied. “Need some more.”
“I’ll get it,” Ayla offered as she got up.
“Bring a few,” Mamba ordered, and Ayla nodded in agreement.
“We got any music?” Mamba shouted.
“I’ll see what I can sort out,” Basir shouted back from across the room. “Want me to get the CD from the car?”
“Fuck off, Basir, find summat else,” Mamba retorted.
Basir found a CD player behind the bar which was wired into speakers around the room, and a stack of CD’s, but there were no batteries. He left the bar and came back a few minutes later having retrieved some batteries from the rucksack in his room. He put the batteries into the machine, chose a rock ballads compilation CD, turned it on and turned the sound right up. The sound of Heart singing ‘Alone’ blasted through the bar and the occupants began to get into the party spirit.
Ayla returned to the table with bottles lodged between her fingers and set them down on the table.
“What ‘bout the girls?” Ahmed asked, referring to Issy and Gina.
“They don’t want anything,” Ayla quickly interjected.
“Ya don’t like ‘em, do ya?” Mamba asked. “Can’t think why,” he added, smirking. “Ya not inta a bit of minge then?”
“Never tried,” Ayla replied, “and not sure I want to. I like something long, hard and hot,” she added suggestively.
“Oooh, yer makin’ me feel all horny,” Mamba said, scratching his crotch before grabbing another bottle of beer and taking a drink.
“I’m starvin’,” Ahmed noted. “When she started talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ long, hard and hot I jus’ thought ‘bout a jumbo hot sausage roll from Gregg’s.” He closed his eyes as if reminiscing.
“Fuck me, Ahmed,” Mamba replied, shaking his head. “We’re talking cock here ‘n all ya can think ‘bout’s fuckin’ food. Get yerself some fuckin crisps.”
Ahmed got up and strolled towards the bar.
Mamba got up and went to get something for himself.
“What’s funny,” Ahmed asked.
“Seein’ Ayla’s reaction ta anythin’ ta do with Cobra ‘n the Princess.”
“Yer not bein’ fair to her,” Ahmed pointed out.
“I don’t care,” Mamba replied, “I’ve gotta get me a bit of action with ‘em. Ya not up for it?”
“Nah man,” Ahmed replied, “I tol’ ya afore, I like ta find me own.”
“Had much luck recently?” Mamba asked sarcastically. “There’s a couple of gals that ain’t gone off on the other side of the wall if yer quick,” he added with a mischievous grin, then started laughing when Ahmed wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Jesus, anyone’d think ya were queer, passin’ up on top-class fanny like these two. I’m almost shootin’ my load jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout doin’ ‘em.”
“When ya gonna realise that ya can’t jus’ keep takin’ and doin’ what ya want?” Ahmed asked.
“Nah bro, when are ya gonna realise that ya can?” Mamba retorted. “There ain’t any datin’ websites or slappers for sale anymore. Ya gotta jus’ take what ya see… ‘n guess what I see.”
Ahmed followed Mamba’s gaze and saw Ayla glaring at Issy and Gina.
“Fuckin’ luvly,” Mamba muttered under his breath, “‘n double-bubble! What’s not ta like? Let’s go.”
They both grabbed snacks to take back with them.
Ayla was on the opposite side of the table from Issy and Gina, hoping to keep them as far away as possible from Mamba.
“Go get ‘em a drink,” Mamba ordered. “Coke ‘n a G&T.”
“You could’ve done them while you were there,” Ayla huffed, but went off to the bar.
Mamba walked around the table. He shifted Issy’
s chair to one side, grabbed a spare and sat himself down between the two women.
“How’s it goin’ Princess?” he asked as he leant over to his left to give Gina a quick kiss on the cheek and take a quick grope of her right breast. “Lookin’ forward ta later?”
He then turned to Issy and did the same, although she tried in vain to stretch out of his way. “Can’t miss out, Cobra,” he said.
Ayla returned to the table to see the revised seating arrangements and had to restrain herself from throwing the drinks over the two women. ‘Bastard’, she thought as she looked down at Mamba’s grinning face. She knew he was doing it all the more to wind her up, and as hard as she tried not to react, she just couldn’t help herself. She took her seat and stared at Mamba without saying anything. ‘I’m going to fuck up your plans’, she thought, and a small smile crept across her face.
Mamba saw the smile and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
Ayla continued to smile as if she knew something that he didn’t, causing Mamba to frown.
‘What’s up?’ Mamba wondered. Maybe the women had the clap? Nah, that was unlikely, and wouldn’t stop him anyway. Maybe they were blokes? He looked at Gina then Issy. Nah, definitely female. No Adam’s apple, slim waists, small hands, small feet. Got tits, well one of them had, although that wasn’t necessarily a gimme as some men had them too. Mamba gave up wondering, it didn’t matter. He put a hand on each of the two women’s thighs, which they immediately clamped shut. Mamba gently stroked their thighs, his hand getting higher and higher.
“Get us some more beers,” he ordered Ayla.
“What did your last slave die of?” she retorted.
“Not doin’ what they was told,” he replied.
“You’ve still got some,” she pointed out.
“They won’t last long,” Mamba replied, “jus’ do what yer fuckin’ tol’,” he added with a hint of anger in his voice. He had taken his hands off the womens’ thighs as if preparing to jump up from his seat.
Ayla knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea to answer back. The last thing she needed was another punch or worse, so she rose from her chair and headed for the bar again.
When she got there, she went around the far side and quickly ducked down behind the counter where she had stashed some extra bottles. She selected half a dozen, but only took the tops off three. She then took a drink from one to identify it as her own. Next, she fumbled around in her pocket until she found the capsule that she’d managed to blag from Uncle Volkan earlier that day. She had explained to him what she was looking for, but not why she wanted it, and he had provided it with no questions asked. All he’d done was explain that it contained some ketamine amongst other substances and what it would do.
