Z-Series (Book 4): Z-Takeover

by Hatchett

  Mamba was easily gaining on them. He had the quicker, more agile car and he didn’t have to watch for obstructions or slow down to shunt things out of the way.

  The other six cars were right on his tail as he closed the final distance and gave Ahmed’s Landcruiser a little nudge from behind. Ahmed almost lost control but managed to straighten the Landcruiser. He then slammed on the brakes, almost catching Mamba by surprise and causing him to turn the wheel and speed past him.

  Mamba and the cars following him braked to a standstill. Mamba picked up the walkie-talkie and, looking through the rear windows said, “Last one to the M25 is a wet fart.”

  With that, he dropped the walkie-talkie back onto the centre console and put his foot down.

  The cars behind also sped off, two of them vying with each other to get in front and have the chance to challenge Mamba for the lead.

  Mamba turned to the Turk in the passenger seat who was ashen faced and hanging on for dear life. “Fuckin’ great, this,” Mamba said. “Like Wacky Races!”. The Turk could only nod in agreement.

  47

  Day 18 – 07:00

  Hendon Police College

  Issy drove into Aerodrome Road and under the M1 motorway and a railway bridge into what was almost a completely different world. There were no wrecked or abandoned vehicles in the road and no zombies wandering around.

  She slowed down, wondering where the entrance to the college, or Peel Centre as it was now known, was located. The first clue came when they saw a boundary of metal fencing and bollards along the pavement, so she slowed down even more. It was very clear why this place had been secure from the zombies. The fencing changed to a wall with razor wire along the top and they knew they were very close.

  Three hundred metres after the railway bridge they came to a set of large wrought iron gates on their left with a flatbed lorry parked behind them and half a dozen fully armed police guards wearing combat gear.

  They had clearly heard the car coming and re-enforcements could already be seen running along internal roads as the alarm was raised. A spotlight was turned on and pointed towards them, all automatic weapons trained in the same direction.

  Issy stopped the car but left the lights on.

  “You ready?” she asked, turning to Gina.

  “Yeah, let’s do it,” Gina replied.

  “How’s the ankle?”

  “Sore.”

  Issy took a deep breath and slowly opened the car door and pushed both hands through the gap first to show she was unarmed. She then wriggled around and lowered her feet to the ground and climbed out of the car, still with her hands in the air.

  “Walk towards us slowly and keep your hands in the air,” came from a loudhailer. When she was around three metres from the gate she heard, “Lie down on the floor.”

  Issy did as she was told.

  Issy heard a gate being opened, followed by footsteps, followed by the barrel of an automatic being placed at the back of her head and another in her back.

  “Hands behind your back,” someone ordered and Issy complied. She wanted to scream at them to get a move on as time was critical, but she knew that they wouldn’t be rushed and would do things by the book and in their own time. After all, she’d have done exactly the same. She just had to be patient and let it play out.

  Issy’s wrists were cuffed and she was dragged to her feet and quickly patted down, not that there was anywhere to conceal anything. Apart from one officer who was wearing a balaclava and looking at her, the others were now focused on Gina who was still in the car with her hands out of the window.

  “Why is she still in the car?” the officer asked.

  “Sprained ankle,” Issy replied.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Issy. The woman in the car is Gina.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We need your help. I’m looking for either Jack Robinson or Kyle Robinson and I need to find them urgently.”

  “And why are you looking for them?”

  “We need to get a message to their father in Heathrow.”

  “What do you know about Heathrow?”

  “Everything. We’re from there.”

  The officer let his MP5 down until it was hanging off his shoulder on its sling.

  “Turn around.”

  Issy did so and felt the cuffs being removed.

  She turned back to find the officer had removed his balaclava and had his hand outstretched, a broad smile across his handsome face. He was a good few inches taller than her with a mop of blond hair and bright blue eyes.

  “I’m Kyle and I’m very pleased to meet you,” he said.

  She shook his hand. He was the spitting image of his father, only younger.

  “When you said your name was Issy and that your friend was Gina I did wonder,” Kyle said, “but we have to make sure. Sorry for that.”

  “No problem. I don’t mean to be rude, but can we send a message to your father right now? It’s very urgent.”

  “Of course. You do realise the main entrance is off Lismore Boulevard,” he added, pointing back the way they had come.

  “Oh well,” Issy replied with a sigh, as if that piece of information was nice to know but totally irrelevant in the circumstances.

  Kyle indicated to his colleagues that they should go and help Gina, and they ran off to the car. He clicked his walkie-talkie.

  “Jean, it’s Kyle. Can you patch through an urgent call to my father in Heathrow? We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Roger, Kyle, I’ll place the call.”

  They waited until Gina arrived, supported by two of the other officers, and Kyle introduced himself.

  “Come with me,” he ordered, and turned on his heels and headed through the gate, which was then closed behind them.

  “Jack has kept us informed about what has been going on,” Kyle said, as he walked through the grounds towards the communications room. “We keep offering to help and he keeps turning us down. I think he just wants to keep me and Jack Jr safe.”

  “Don’t you call him Dad?” Gina asked from behind.

  Kyle laughed. “We haven’t called him Dad ever. It was ‘Sir’ for years and when we came of age it changed to ‘you can call me Jack’. How did you get here?” he asked.

  “Long story,” Issy replied.

  They arrived at a building with ‘Communications Centre’ on a large plaque on the wall outside. They entered and climbed a set of stairs to a room not too dissimilar to an airport control tower with computers, screens and workstations all around.

  Kyle led them to a small conference table in the centre with a conference call console sitting on it.

  A woman came over and handed Kyle a piece of paper and, as she was asking if anyone would like a drink, Kyle quickly interrupted to explain that the woman’s name was Jean, before clicking a button on the console to bring up the dialling tone then entering a number.

  He sat down as the phone started ringing.

  48

  Day 18 – 07:00

  M25, Junction 25

  It took just over ten minutes to race the three kilometres to the M25. The lead changed hands numerous times as each car took different routes up the A10 in search of an advantage, some of which turned out to be blocked and they had to slow down and change direction. On the odd occasion they had to stop and even reverse to get back on track.

  Whoever was in the lead was always at a disadvantage because the slightest mistake or wrong choice opened it up for the others behind.

  The only car not in the mix to win was Ahmed’s. He was just gliding along without any fuss as they all sang along to ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ by Oasis at top volume.

  Ahmed arrived a few minutes after all the others. The cars were parked up on the hard shoulder waiting for him and Mamba was standing on the top of his car bowing to the Turks in their cars below who were cheering out of the windows and waving their arms around.

  “Jus’ take a look at th
at prick,” Ahmed said in disgust. “It looks like he won.”

  “They probably let him win,” Ayla suggested.

  “Ya could be right,” Ahmed agreed.

  Ahmed drove up and parked right next to Mamba’s vehicle. He looked around to make sure there were no zombies close by and opened the sunroof and stood up.

  “Good of ya ta turn up, Ahmed,” Mamba said sarcastically. “Ya last, man. Very poor.”

  “Listened to some bangin’ tunes tho’,” Ahmed replied with a smile.

  The smile on Mamba’s face dropped away as he was reminded of his embarrassment in the supermarket.

  “Not funny,” Mamba said.

  “Ya did it to me ‘n nearly got me killed. Call it payback,” Ahmed said.

  Mamba thought about it, then remembered what he wanted to show Ahmed and all thoughts of the supermarket were lost.

  “Get up here, Ahmed. Quick! Got summat I want ta show ya.” Mamba ordered.

  Ahmed looked at Mamba, wondering if this was some sort of trick so that Mamba would get into the Landcruiser and lock him out of it again. It was just the sort of pettiness that Mamba would wallow in.

  “Yeah, right. I ain’t that fuckin’ stupid, bro,” Ahmed replied.

  Mamba looked puzzled until it dawned on him why Ahmed was reluctant to move.

  “For fuck’s sake Ahmed, I ain’t gonna nick the car back. Serious bro, get yer arse up here.”

  Ahmed shook his head, sure he was being played, but climbed up onto the car’s roof and stepped across the small gap onto the roof of Mamba’s car. Some of the Turks were now leaning out of their windows trying to see what was going on and what Mamba had been pointing at. Ayla took Ahmed’s place, standing up through the sunroof.

  “What?” Ahmed asked as he reached Mamba and looked into the distance where Mamba was pointing, but he couldn’t see anything of interest. What he did notice was that the hard shoulder of the four-lane motorway was relatively empty, except where pile ups had shunted vehicles over to the side. This should hopefully mean a quicker journey than expected.

  “Don’t ya see it?” Mamba asked, obviously excited.

  “Nah bro. Ya bin smokin’ weed or a little somethin’ else to take the edge off?”

  Mamba looked at Ahmed as if he was an alien. “Have I killed anyone in the last hour?” he asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Ahmed replied.

  “Have I done anythin’ stupid?”

  “Yer always doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

  Mamba scowled. “I ain’t smoked or snorted nothin’. Wouldn’t mind tho’,” he added with a laugh.

  “Come on then, spill the fuckin’ beans. What’s so interestin’?” Ahmed asked, getting bored, and a little concerned by the gathering crowd of zombies around the vehicles. Most of the Turks had already started to do up their windows and were sitting in the cars waiting to see what would happen next. The area was beginning to resemble a rally with Mamba about to address the gathering. All he needed was a loudhailer and a bit of bunting. ‘Vote Mamba!’ Ahmed thought and laughed.

  “What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Mamba asked, staring at Ahmed in suspicion.

  “Nothin’ man, jus’ tell me what the fuck’s goin’ on.”

  Mamba turned and pointed again. This time Ahmed tried to follow the direction more carefully, but he still couldn’t figure out what Mamba was interested in. Maybe he needed an eye test?

  Mamba turned back to Ahmed, waiting for a comment, but Ahmed just shrugged.

  “The fuckin car!” Mamba shouted in exasperation.

  “There’s fuckin’ cars everywhere, ya twat!” Ahmed shouted back.

  “Not jus’ any car! Look again!”

  Ahmed looked again as instructed then he finally clocked what Mamba was talking about and smiled in realisation.

  Mamba saw Ahmed’s smile and couldn’t help but smile himself. He could see exactly what Ahmed was thinking.

  “Exactly! Fuckin’ cool or what?”

  “Yeah, cool bro,” Ahmed agreed, “‘n at least ya can ride up front instead of bein’ locked in the back.”

  Mamba’s smile turned into a frown.

  “What is going on?” Ayla interrupted from the Landcruiser. “You two going to be arsing about all day?”

  “Mamba’s found a new ride,” Ahmed explained as he turned to look at her.

  “What new ride?” Ayla asked.

  “Cop car,” Ahmed explained.

  “So?”

  “So, it prob’ly got a 5-litre turbo engine, uprated suspension ‘n goes like shit off a shovel,” Ahmed explained.

  “So?”

  “So, it goes ‘whoo, whoo, whoo’ when ya turn on the siren,” Ahmed said.

  “So, what? Nothing’s gonna get out of the way, so what’s the point?”

  Ahmed looked to Mamba for help and shrugged.

  “It’s a fuckin’ cop car,” Mamba reiterated, “That’s the fuckin’ point!”

  Ayla sat back down in the Landcruiser shaking her head in disbelief.

  “She jus’ don’t get it bro,” Mamba muttered. “We betta get goin’. Ya can take the Landcruiser, while I get the cop car.”

  Mamba knocked on the roof of his car and the Turk in the passenger seat opened his window a fraction. Mamba told him to drive slowly down the hard shoulder and park a metre from the cop car.

  “What cop car?” the Turk asked.

  “One down there, jus’ fuckin’ drive!” Mamba replied.

  Ahmed quickly jumped onto the Landcruiser roof, climbed back in through the sunroof and started the engine. ‘Hey Now’, the next track on the Oasis album was playing. Ahmed leaned forward and clicked the ‘back’ button a couple of times and it was replaced by ‘Wonderwall’, which they all started to sing along to.

  The X5 with Mamba on the roof started moving slowly down the hard shoulder and Ahmed pulled in behind it, both vehicles crushing zombies beneath them. Ahmed looked in his rear-view mirror to see the other cars lining up behind him.

  After a hundred metres, the X5 stopped. Mamba took a quick look around, made sure he had his knife then jumped onto the bonnet then down onto the ground. He quickly looked into the Police BMW X5’s window, and seeing nothing of concern, tried the handle.

  The car door opened easily so Mamba climbed in and closed the door with a satisfying ‘thunk’. He put his foot on the brake and hit the starter button. Nothing happened. Mamba frantically looked around for the keys but couldn’t see anything.

  He looked around through the windshield, wondering where the fuck the keys were when he spotted a car about ten metres further ahead and what looked like a copper dangling from the window.

  Mamba smiled as he got out of the car and walked up the hard shoulder, stabbing a couple of zombies in the head on the way. He got to the other car and had a quick look around and started laughing. It was obvious the cop had ‘turned’ and had tried to bite the woman in the car, but she had somehow rolled up the window to trap the zombie-cop’s head before getting into the passenger seat and rolling up into a ball waiting to die.

  The zombie-cop was still trying to move and snap its teeth, the luminous yellow jacket crackling with the effort.

  Mamba slid his blade into the back of its head and rummaged around in its pockets until he found the car keys. He wondered where the other fucker was - the cops always went around in pairs - but he couldn’t see its partner.

  Mamba decided to take the high-vis jacket and spent a few minutes wrestling it off the body before putting it on. It was a bit big for him, but it would do. He then spotted the cop’s hat on the floor and stooped to pick it up before trying it on. Again, it was a little large, but good enough.

  He turned to face the other cars and mimicked directing traffic. He could see the Turks pissing themselves laughing inside their cars and a couple of them hit their horns in support.

  Mamba was about to walk back to his new set of wheels when he heard a weak ‘help’ coming from the passenger seat.

  49r />
  Day 18 – 07:15

  Hilton Hotel, Heathrow

  Jack’s bedside phone rang, and he rolled over to his right to switch on his side light before sitting up against the headboard and picking up the handset.

  “Robinson,” he said.

  “Jack it’s Tom. We’ve got a call coming in from Kyle in the next few minutes. I’ll redirect to your earpiece.”

  “What’s it about? Is there a problem?”

  “No idea, they didn’t say, other than its urgent.”

  “Thanks Tom,” Jack replied, replacing the handset and picking up his earpiece, concern on his face.

  He looked to his left to see Sarah now awake and lying on her front, propped up on her arms and looking at him inquisitively through her large brown eyes as he inserted the device into his ear and turned it on. He could see a dark valley between her breasts as they hung down to rest on the bed next to her long black hair. Her shoulders were bare, and her soft tanned skin sloped all the way down to where the duvet rested just above her backside. God, she was a very attractive woman, and despite his concerns and reservations the previous evening, he didn’t feel any guilt about being with her.

  “What’s going on?” Sarah asked gently, seeing the look on his face.

  “Call from Kyle,” he explained, placing a hand on her shoulder and rubbing it softly. “Urgent apparently.”

  “Problem?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Need me to join the call?”

  “No, it should be fine,” he replied. “Anyway, it would look a bit odd if you suddenly joined the call from nowhere.”

  “So, we’re keeping this a secret?” she asked, swivelling her eyes from his side of the bed to her own.

  “To be honest, I haven’t even considered it. Do you want to keep it secret?”

  Sarah turned onto her side facing him, drawing up her left knee to give her balance. “I’m not sure,” she said.