by Hatchett
The laughing subsided as Mamba came up on the driver’s side and stared at them one by one.
“It wasn’t me, officer!” Ahmed exclaimed, holding his hands up, and they all started laughing again. Even Mamba had a slight grin on his face.
“Shove over ya prat,” he ordered.
“Nah, I’m drivin’,” Ahmed replied.
“Fuck off, I drive,” Mamba replied. “Ya can be the DJ.”
“OK.” Ahmed climbed over the console. There was no way he was getting out of the car because Mamba would probably drive off.
Once he was out of the way, Mamba climbed in and set off.
“Officer?” Ahmed asked tentatively.
“What?” Mamba replied, “‘n stop fuckin’ callin’ me ‘officer’.”
“Haven’t ya forgotten somethin’?”
Mamba thought about it. “Nah, what?”
“Ayla?”
“Fuck!” Mamba shouted as he slammed on the brakes. He looked in his rear-view and saw one of the Mercs right behind him, so there was no chance he could reverse. “Fuck!” he repeated.
Mamba stood up through the sunroof and saw that Ayla had got out of the cop car and was wandering towards them. He waved her over, but she showed him her middle finger and climbed into the other Landcruiser.
Mamba sat back down and started the car moving again.
“She not comin’?” Ahmed asked.
“Gone in one of the other cars,” Mamba replied. “Put some music on, summat decent.”
As Ahmed was sorting through the CD’s, the walkie-talkie squawked into life and Ayla’s voice carried over the airwaves. “Got five hunky boys back here and they’ve promised to show me a good time.”
Mamba frowned at the walkie-talkie and Ahmed stopped sorting the CD’s, waiting to see if Mamba would erupt.
He held it together until Ayla started grunting and gasping. Mamba slammed on the brakes and stomped back towards the other Landcruiser. He opened the rear door and shouted ‘Out!”
Ayla did as she was told.
Mamba looked at the Turks in the car. “Ya even look at her the wrong way, I’ll cut yer fuckin’ cocks off!”
He slammed the door and started walking back to his own vehicle. “Ya betta be fuckin’ followin’,” he said over his shoulder.
Ayla quickly followed in his footsteps and got in the back of Mamba’s Landcruiser without another word.
Mamba set off again as the sound of the Foo Fighters exploded from the speakers.
53
Day 18 – 08:30
Heathrow Terminal 3, Security Command Centre
The soldiers had found nothing in the hotel in Enfield, except for the evidence of Issy and Gina’s escape, the dead zombies in the stairwell and car park outside.
Other than the bar area looking like there had been a brawl, there were no clues that Mamba had been there or where he was heading.
“We’re back to square one,” Jack observed. “Tom, you can tell them to come home. Have you managed to pick up anything on the satellite?”
“Sorry Jack, nada,” Tom replied, before ordering the heli’s back.
Jack looked at Sarah, Bear and the Major, who had returned from updating Hendon. “Ideas?”
“I’m not sure there is much else we can do,” the Major said. “We’re waiting for him to make a mistake or show up somewhere.”
“I’m going to do a check on the sentries around the perimeter and warn them to be careful,” Bear said, and rose from his chair.
“I’ll leave you to keep an eye on things,” Jack said to the Major. “I’m desperate for a shower and to brush my teeth.” He got up and headed for the changing rooms in Security Command. He couldn’t be bothered to go back to his room in the hotel.
“I’ve got some…sorting to do,” Sarah said, and stood up and quickly made her exit.
The Major smiled to himself. ‘Sorting’ indeed!
54
Day 18 – 14:00
Travelodge, Hounslow
Mamba led the convoy into the car park of the Travelodge in Hounslow. A creature of habit, he liked to stick with what he knew.
The journey around the M25 had been largely uneventful after the grief with Ayla. The five of them had sat in silence for long periods, just listening to the music and watching the world go by, only arguing when it came to selecting the next CD to play.
At one point, Mamba had again suggested a game of ‘I Spy’, but Ahmed had quickly nipped that stupid idea in the bud with a ‘ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me’ response.
To Mamba’s utter amazement the hard shoulder had remained relatively free from obstructions, although they’d had to pile through the roadside barriers on a few occasions before doing a bit of off-roading, then returning to the carriageway.
The number of zombies in and around the M25 was relatively low because there were very few built up areas and certainly no pedestrian areas, so the vast majority of zombies in that vicinity had once been sitting in the vehicles themselves.
The virus had spread outwards from London, causing traffic to come to a standstill on the narrower roads and then the main roads until the tailback finally reached the motorways. Despite the gridlock and rising panic as the situation became clearer, drivers still avoided the hard shoulder!
The zombie virus spread like wildfire along all routes out of London, exacerbated by people getting out of their vehicles to see what was going on ahead of them.
Many people quite rightly thought it would be sensible to stay in their cars and lock the doors and others were simply too scared to get out. It would have been the right idea had there been any form of help on its way. But there wasn’t.
Instead, with little or no food or water, they effectively endured a long, slow and painful death in their vehicle and, because the virus was airborne, they turned.
Those with no water died within a week, whilst others managed to stretch out the pain a little longer. By the time they realised that they needed to find food and water to survive, they were too weak to move or simply too slow to avoid the zombies trawling the roads.
In the vehicles with more than one occupant it was a different kind of Hell. Those that died first turned and then attacked those who were still alive. Those still alive watched as events unfolded in nearby vehicles, knowing that what they were seeing would happen to them eventually. Many of these people took their own lives before it could happen.
Mamba had noticed that there tended to be larger hordes near the main junctions, which was to be expected as that was where the spread originally came from. It wasn’t possible to off-road at the junctions, so the convoy had needed to work together to move obstructions and create gaps through which to pass. It was the junctions that had cost them most of the time on their journey.
They’d left the M25 at Junction 15 and joined the M4 motorway heading East towards Central London. Had they gone any further down the M25 they would have been almost on top of Heathrow. Indeed, if planes had been taking off and landing, going further would have put them right beneath the flight path and given them a close-up view of the aircraft. Much too close for comfort.
The M4 was always busy and when the virus hit, all lanes were packed with vehicles, but like the M25, very few people broke the rules to travel along the hard shoulder. There were significantly more zombies around as they were now traveling through more built up areas.
Mamba had passed Junction 4 which would have taken them straight to the airport and had continued on to Junction 3 where he came off and joined The Parkway, a dual-carriageway leading to Waggoner’s Roundabout.
The Parkway was packed and nearly impassable, but after fifty metres, Mamba had seen fields to his left and had taken the convoy off-road. They’d sped across the fields, dodging trees, hedges and dips, avoided a main roundabout and continued on, parallel to Bath Road. It was almost as quick as if the road had been empty and Mamba had thought at the time just how useful 4x4 cars were.
Their first real tr
ouble had come when they needed to crash through a hedge and some fencing to get back onto the road at Henlys Roundabout, which was blocked solid with traffic. Once they’d created a gap, they had been able to drive straight across the top of the large roundabout, saving a lot of time.
“Isn’t that McDonald’s the one we saw the other day?” Ayla had asked from the back, pointing out of the window to her right. “You know? The one you thought was a pub and got all annoyed?”
“Dunno what the fuck yer talkin’ ‘bout,” Mamba had replied.
“Yeah, ya do bro. It is the same one,” Ahmed had chipped in, only to get a withering glare from Mamba.
“I remember this area. Where are we going exactly?” Basir had asked from the back.
“Near that George & Dragon where we stayed the last time we was here,” Mamba said.
“We going to bomb them again?” Basir asked.
“Not this time,” Mamba said, “although ya might get to let a couple off,” he’d added with a grin.
“Ya gonna tell us what the fuck ya have planned?” Ahmed asked.
“Later Ahmed. Once I have a beer in me hand.”
They’d continued along Bath Road heading for Hounslow. Although the road was single lane in each direction there was a wide strip down the centre with hatched road markings which allowed cars to pull over at certain points to make turns without disrupting the flow of traffic. Mamba couldn’t believe his luck and had ploughed down the middle of the road and across these markings, shunting the odd vehicle that was in the way and smashing into plastic road bollards that lit up at night. He’d thought that they’d be walking by this stage of the journey, but everything was hunky dory.
They’d passed the familiar row of shops on their right, followed by the Hounslow West Tube Station on their left, and just after that, the George and Dragon on their right.
“We not stoppin’ there?” Ahmed had asked, surprised, as they shot past.
“Nah, man. Too many of us,” Mamba had replied, “‘n there wouldn’t be enough beer.”
Mamba had driven a further kilometre towards the centre of Hounslow, taken a left onto Lampton Road and then seen the Travelodge fifty metres ahead.
He wasn’t aware that his journey was almost six times the length of the journey endured by Issy and Gina and had taken less than half the time.
Mamba parked right outside the entrance of the building, his car crushing the head of a zombie as it came to a stop.
The other cars in the convoy pulled up behind, and after a quick scan of the area, the occupants got out and started taking out all the zombies in the vicinity.
Ahmed climbed out and headed off to close the gate while the rest of them got out to join in with the culling. It was clear that the Turks had learnt their lesson from earlier and were taking out zombies like it was some new Olympic sport, and it wasn’t long before the car park was strewn with dead bodies.
Next, they entered the hotel and went after anything that moved, slowly clearing the floors and rooms before finally congregating in the hotel bar.
Mamba was already on his second as the Turks filtered in. He’d put loads of drink on the bar for them to help themselves and warned each and every one of them that they could only have a couple. They needed to be fully focused on the next stage of his plan, and that meant sleeping for the rest of the day and early evening.
55
Day 18 – 15:00
Heathrow Terminal 3, Security Command Centre
Jack and the Major sat in the Command Ring discussing their options, or lack of, especially as there had been no hint of Mamba all day.
They had earlier recalled the heli’s from their search and were just watching and waiting for something to happen.
All the other Leaders were going about different tasks and Jack had used the spare time to update the Tower, Battersea, Whale Island and Hendon on the current situation. All sites were concerned, but there was nothing any of them could do.
Hendon was effectively on red alert, and based on Issy and Gina’s journey, the senior people there felt it could still take Mamba hours to get anywhere near them, or he could already be there and just reconnoitring the area and planning for the right time to strike.
Issy and Gina were still sleeping. They’d awoken for a short period earlier to have some food and water, spend some time with Andy and Travis and tell more of their story, but they were still exhausted and needed to recuperate.
While Issy and Gina slept, Andy and Travis had been helping out where they could and had taken charge of sorting out their own soldiers once they had arrived in the Chinook from Enfield. Various small groups were now positioned around the Hendon area, camouflaged and looking out for any hint of Mamba. They still had one of the Apache’s on site, ready to go at a moment’s notice.
56
Day 18 – 22:00
Travelodge, Hounslow
Mamba looked around the lounge at thirty-six people around him. He was dressed head to toe in black and had a black balaclava ready to pull down over his face.
“We robbin’ a bank?” Ahmed asked sarcastically. “Where’s the sawn-off shotgun?”
“Shut the fuck up ‘n listen,” Mamba retorted.
“Keep calm ‘n don’t think ‘bout the two beauties who escaped earlier,” Ahmed replied with a big grin.
Mamba shook his head, getting annoyed. This was the start of what they called the ‘Imagination Game’ - as soon as someone tells you to imagine something or conversely not to think about something, you automatically do without thinking, and there was nothing you could do about it. It was just the way the brain worked, and Mamba had used it on many occasions to terrify people. You used your reputation and their wild imagination to scare them shitless by saying something like ‘Imagine your right hand without any fingers’ or ‘Don’t think about your fingers being snapped off one by one’. Mamba always thought ‘don’t think’ worked far better than ‘imagine’ and now fuckin’ Ahmed was doing it to him.
“Don’t think ‘bout me fist breakin’ yer nose,” Mamba replied.
“Good one,” Ahmed replied. “Don’t think ‘bout Ayla blowing all them Turks in the car earlier.”
“Below the belt! Don’t think ‘bout Basir givin’ ya one up the jacksy.”
“That’s disgustin’. Don’t think…” Ahmed began.
“No more,” Mamba butted in. “We’ve got things to do.”
Ahmed closed his mouth and looked on expectantly.
“Does everyone have all their kit?” Mamba asked loudly so that everyone in the room could hear. Only moments before everyone had taken their belongings from the cars and their rooms and brought them into the lounge area to check.
There were nods all around, although some of them looked a little puzzled as to why they had some of the kit.
Mamba spent the next half-hour detailing what was going to happen and answering their questions. The looks on most faces turned from surprise to concern and then to excitement as he explained the plan. By the time he had finished, they couldn’t wait to get going. Mamba had effectively promised them a better deal than their expected forty or seventy-odd virgins in Heaven.
“Get changed,” Mamba ordered, and they all started to strip off and change into their own black gear.
Once they were done, the old clothing was discarded, and they filled their rucksacks with their other kit. Next, they all helped each other to get dirty, then Basir and Sami started turning off the battery lamps and putting them away. In their place, they pulled out heavy-duty torches and looked expectantly at Mamba.
“Let’s go,” Mamba ordered, “‘n remember, keep quiet ‘n do as I say.”
Mamba led the way out of the lounge followed by Ayla, Ahmed, Basir, Sami and the rest.
They trooped into the cark park and walked past their cars as a few torches were turned on along the line.
They headed back to Bath Road and walked the kilometre to the Hounslow West Tube station and gathered outside.
57
Day 18 – 22:30
Hilton Hotel, Heathrow
Jack was nursing a scotch while Sarah was drinking a glass of wine and the Major drank a beer.
“I’d love to know what he’s up to,” the Major said.
“We all do,” Sarah replied.
“I just don’t understand how he manages to disappear without a trace so easily,” the Major continued.
“Some of it’s luck, some of it’s skill, but more than likely it’s because we’re simply looking in the wrong places,” Sarah said.
“You’re probably right,” the Major agreed. “It’s just so frustrating. We could do with razing London to the ground so there are no hiding places.”
“There would always be hiding places,” Sarah said, “just think of all the tunnels beneath the surface.”
“True,” the Major acknowledged.
Sarah turned to Jack. “You’re quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m tired. It’s hard constantly thinking about where he might be and what he might do. It’s easier for him because he knows where we are and can bide his time. We’re always looking over our shoulder, when what we should be doing is preparing for the hard times ahead.”
“We’ll get him,” Sarah was adamant, “and then we can save the world.”
I’d forgotten to ask, but what’s happening in Manchester?” Jack asked.
“Aaron and his small team are sorting out the two groups of survivors we’ve found up there and are continuing with their work.”
“OK. Good.” Jack replied.
“So, Issy and Gina will be coming back tomorrow morning,” the Major pointed out. “It’ll be really good to see them both.”
“Yes, it will,” Jack agreed. “It doesn’t feel the same without Issy here bossing everyone around. I just hope she’s OK, well, both of them of course.”
