Z-Series (Book 4): Z-Takeover

by Hatchett

  “Let’s go,” Mamba ordered, watching as most of the Turks wet a piece of cloth and tied it around their faces. ‘Not a bad idea’ Mamba thought and did it himself.

  Mamba led the way to the end of the platform and jumped down onto the tracks. There was a squelching sound as he landed, and it took a bit of tugging to get his boot free. It was one of the tube lines which had all the rails suspended off the ground and a recess underneath the central electric rail, so they would need to walk in single file towards the outer edge, else they would be up to their waist in muck and not moving anywhere if they veered near the centre.

  “Careful,” he shouted over his shoulder, “it’s like a bog.”

  “Joy,” Ahmed muttered sarcastically as he jumped down next to Mamba and felt his own boots sink into the congealing mass of flesh.

  “Only a few steps ‘n we’re clear,” Mamba said, taking a large step towards the tunnel and the firmer ground.

  One by one the Turks followed, helping each other to stay upright as best they could. At one point, one of the Turks lost his grip and slipped into the central pool. It took four others to haul him back up by his arms and he was covered in gunk and stank to high heaven.

  As they were waiting for everyone to get down and join the line, Mamba took out a few stray zombies heading in their direction.

  Then they were off down the tracks, using the torches to see where they were going. They had to be careful to look where they were going and at the same time watch where they were placing their feet. One false step like standing awkwardly on the rail and they could easily sprain or break their ankles.

  After a hundred and fifty metres or so, they approached the stricken tube train, it’s mass appearing to block the whole tunnel.

  The closer he got, the more concerned Mamba became. He was not convinced that there was enough room to get past the tube train, especially with all the cables and metal tubes running along the walls. He looked carefully at both sides and the top to see what was feasible, but the best option appeared to be dropping down into the recess and crawling under the train.

  “Well, this was a fuckin’ waste of time,” Ahmed muttered, shining his torch at the train driver-turned-zombie who looked like he was trying to bite his way through the glass in his cabin window, “I guess we gotta go back and think of summat else.”

  “We ain’t goin’ back,” Mamba hissed, “even if we have to walk through the train and knife every fuckin’ zombie on it.”

  “But it could be packed,” Ahmed pointed out. “Standin’ room only, ‘n not enough space to use the knife without gettin’ bit.”

  “Yer such a miserable git, Ahmed. The glass is always half empty, ain’t it?” Mamba scolded. “We’re goin’ down. I always like goin’ down,” he added with a laugh.

  Mamba dropped down into the recess, which was still relatively clear because the muck from the platform hadn’t had the chance to ooze along the recess this far.

  He walked up to the train then ducked under and shone his torch. There was nothing in his way, so he knelt and started crawling forwards.

  “Yer fucked if yer claustrophobic,” he shouted.

  Some of the Turks really didn’t fancy going under the train and attempted to go down the sides. They realised it wouldn’t work after just a couple of metres, so turned back and joined the rest going under the train.

  “How many fuckin’ carriages are there?” Mamba wondered aloud as he passed the first carriage and started going under the second. He heard a thud from behind then someone shout in pain and start cursing. “Heads down,” Mamba shouted, laughing at the thought of someone banging their head. Maybe it was Faruk, knock some sense into the fucker.

  “Too fuckin’ many,” Ahmed replied. “At least ten or twelve.”

  “Fuck, I won’t have any knees left by the time I get to the end,” Mamba complained.

  “Serves ya…”

  “Shush!” Mamba exclaimed and stopped crawling, causing Ahmed to bump him.

  “What?”

  “There’s summat crawlin’ towards us.”

  “Yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Ahmed said, sidling up next to Mamba to look for himself.

  They both shone torches down the recess and instantly saw that they had a problem. There were at least two zombies crawling towards them, except they weren’t crawling, they were pulling themselves along.

  “What the fuck?” Ahmed asked rhetorically.

  Mamba already had a knife in each hand ready to take them on. Ahmed did the same and moved to the other side of the electric rail, and together, they both edged towards the zombies heading towards them.

  “What’s going on?” Ayla asked from behind.

  “Zombies crawlin’ towards us,” Ahmed explained.

  Ayla passed the information down the line, and those already feeling uncomfortable in their surroundings found their terror elevate to a whole new level. One of the Turks had a panic attack and it took four of his colleagues to try and get him to calm down.

  When he was just a few metres away, Mamba stopped and placed his torch on the side to provide light. He also took Ayla’s torch and lined it up while Ahmed did the same.

  “Let’s hope it ain’t the last stand,” Ahmed muttered as the zombie nearest him came within an arm’s length. He stabbed forward straight into the zombie’s hideous face and it crumpled to the floor. It was only then that Ahmed saw the full horror of what was in front of him.

  “They ain’t got legs,” he shouted, stabbing a second one which had hauled itself onto the body of the first one Ahmed had killed. Then a third.

  Mamba was dealing with his own attackers and didn’t even bother replying. After taking out two of his own he waited quietly to see if any more were coming. Ahmed was also watching and listening carefully, but all they could hear was the shuffling of what was left of the passengers on the tube train above their heads and their own heavy breathing.

  “Reminds me of that film ‘The Thing’,” Mamba whispered, “where there’s this head in the middle of the floor and it uses its tongue to pull itself along before sproutin’ legs. At least, I think it was that film and I think it happened, but maybe I’m imaginin’ it. Spendin’ too much time with Faruk and Ismet.”

  “Thanks for that,” Ahmed noted, “makes me feel a whole lot betta.”

  “Yeah, but it was cool, man. Jus’ hope these fuckers don’t grow a ten-foot tongue or we’ll be up shit creek.”

  “What’s that about a ten-foot tongue?” Ayla asked from behind.

  “Trust ya to hear that,” Mamba said. “Ya get enough tongue as it is, so don’t start gettin’ excited.”

  “I’m not!” Ayla protested, “I just wondered what you were talking about.”

  “Well, mind yer own business,” Mamba retorted.

  “I think its OK to go,” Ahmed whispered. “We’ll have to crawl over these fuckers though.”

  Mamba put one of his knives away and grabbed his torch. “Let’s go.”

  Mamba crawled across the two bodies while Ahmed struggled to get past the three he had dealt with. Once he was on the other side, Mamba could see a clear path ahead and started crawling faster. He heard an, ‘Ahh shit, what is this…fuck, it’s somebody’s fucking guts.’ Mamba chuckled to himself. The Turks would become men after this little journey.

  60

  Day 19 – 01:00

  Hatton Cross Tube Station

  It had taken an hour and a half to travel the kilometre to Hatton Cross tube station, most of which was spent crawling under two tube trains. If it wasn’t for them, the journey would’ve been far easier and far quicker.

  The start of a third train began just before they reached the station, so they only had to crawl under a couple of carriages before they could move to the side and climb up onto the platform.

  After taking out a dozen or so zombies, everyone collapsed in a heap and took some snacks and water from their rucksacks. The journey had already been a back-breaker and they were still only halfway.


  Basir came over to Mamba and sat down.

  “One of the guys can’t go on,” he said.

  “Why?” Mamba asked curiously.

  “He can’t face any more horror. He’s had one panic attack and he’s having trouble breathing.”

  “Kill him,” Mamba ordered.

  “That’s a good one, Mamba,” Basir said, laughing. His laugh slowly died as he realised that Mamba wasn’t joking. “You’re not serious?”

  “Ya John McEnroe now?” Mamba asked.

  Basir looked puzzled.

  “Nah, he said ‘Ya cannot be serious!’,” imitating the old McEnroe roar of outrage.

  Basir looked even more puzzled.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mamba said. “If he ain’t comin’ with us, he ain’t stayin’ either.”

  “I’ll speak to him,” Basir said, getting to his feet.

  “Ya do that, Basir, but if he ain’t up to it, it’s the end of the line for him.”

  “Why are you such a bastard?” Ayla enquired.

  “Can’t have any weaklin’s. Too dangerous for the rest of us. Anyway, I thought ya liked bastards,” he added with a grin on his face.

  61

  Day 19 – 02:30

  Heathrow Terminal 3, Tube Station

  After a break of half an hour, the group continued their journey, and having only one more tube train to crawl under, managed to do the second kilometre in an hour.

  Shortly after passing beneath the final tube train, they’d come across a number of stray zombies and selected five which they carefully trapped and restrained using plasticuffs and small sections of rope they had brought in their rucksacks just for this purpose. They had also brought along thick black bags with drawstrings, which they placed over the zombie’s heads and were pleased to see that this made them far more docile. They were then able to pull the zombies along like prisoners while they killed any others in the vicinity.

  They’d rounded the final curve in the tunnel and found themselves thirty metres away from the Heathrow platform, which was brightly lit, the light filtering part-way into the tunnel. They then came across the start of a congealed mass of zombie viscera, like the mess they had left at Hounslow North, except this was deeper and stretched further into the tunnel. The stench was horrendous. The Heathrow lot had been busy, there was no doubt about that.

  For this last section, they moved back to the side of the tunnel to avoid the mess in the middle and turned off their torches in case there were any guards up ahead. They’d had to tread very carefully and feel their way along to avoid tripping over.

  Mamba wondered if the lack of zombies remaining in the tunnel might mean the people from Heathrow no longer felt the need to come down here anymore. He was a little concerned that they might’ve blocked off the tube station once and for all. The thought of having to go back the way they had come was not one he wanted to dwell on.

  When Mamba reached the edge of the platform, he waited and listened carefully, looking around for any security cameras. After a couple of minutes, he had spotted two cameras but decided that the platform was empty.

  Mamba indicated that everyone behind him should wait, then he quickly moved further along the platform until he thought he was outside the CCTV camera range. He climbed onto the platform, fumbled around in his rucksack and withdrew a can of black spray paint. He walked over to the CCTV camera, and from below, reached up and sprayed the lens. He then moved on to the second camera and did the same, before beckoning Ahmed and the rest to follow.

  Mamba moved across to the Northbound platform, seeing a tube train sitting alongside it. He assumed that the cameras would be situated in similar positions on that platform and was pleased to see that he was right. He followed the same process to spray those lenses as well.

  When he returned to the central concourse, he saw that the rest of the group had made their way out of the tunnel, but were sticking close to the walls, waiting for Mamba to tell them what to do.

  Mamba looked around and saw the escalators at the end of the concourse which would take them up, although they had been turned off. He also noticed a sign for a lift and wondered if this was working.

  He called over Ahmed and Basir, who instantly moved across to his side.

  “Ahmed, go ‘n guard the lift. Basir, go ‘n hide out of sight by the stairs. Anyone comes down, capture ‘em. Then we’ll have a break.”

  Ahmed and Basir went back to the group and started sorting people into two teams and explaining what they needed to do. After a few minutes, the group split up into the two teams and moved away to start their vigil.

  “What about us?” Ayla asked, coming up to Mamba.

  “I got plans fer ya,” Mamba said, with a wicked smile on his face. “It’s bin too long.”

  Ayla forgot all about their recent arguments and smiled back.

  “About time!” she said.

  Mamba took hold of Ayla’s arm and guided her towards the far end of the platform before pulling her behind one of the large support columns.

  62

  Day 19 – 03:00

  Heathrow Terminal 3, Tube Station

  Mamba zipped up his fly as Ayla started to get dressed. Both were still breathing heavily and had traces of perspiration all over their bodies.

  “Catch me up in a mo,” Mamba said, slapping her bare backside as he passed her.

  “Oi!” she shouted in surprise but was grinning from ear to ear as she said it. She was pleased that she still attracted him, she just had to do something about those other two bitches he kept drooling over.

  Mamba strolled up the concourse, adjusting himself as he walked. God, he’d needed that. He’d wanted it since they left the hotel in Hounslow a few hours earlier. For some reason, arguing with Ayla got him going. It made it far more fun making up.

  He checked on Basir and his team hiding near the escalators then checked up on Ahmed and his team, but there was nothing of interest happening.

  “Shouldn’t we start movin’?” Ahmed asked. “Why wait?”

  “We’re havin’ a rest,” Mamba pointed out.

  “Yeah, but we’ve had long enough. We should go now while everyone’s asleep. They reckon three in the mornin’ is when people are in the deepest sleep.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?” Mamba asked.

  “I dunno,” Ahmed admitted, “people in gen’ral, doctors, politicians, who knows?”

  “Well, ‘they’ can go fuck ‘emselves ‘cos I decide when the time is right, ‘n guess what?”

  “What?”

  “The time is right. Let’s go.”

  With that, Mamba turned and headed back to the escalators, arriving at the same time as a flushed Ayla.

  “Party time, let’s go,” Mamba ordered, and the Turks started putting things away and getting to their feet. “Keep it schtum,” he warned.

  Mamba led the way up the first escalator followed by Ayla, Basir and his team, while Ahmed and his team took the second escalator. Mamba noticed more CCTV cameras and hoped to fuck that they either weren’t working or the people who were supposed to be watching them were asleep. He sprayed those he could reach as he went along, just in case.

  Mamba was halfway up the escalator when there was a crash and bang from behind. He turned quickly with a furious scowl on his face to find that the stupid fucking Turks had led their hooded zombies onto the escalator without considering how they’d get them up the steps. There was a bit of frantic activity before two Turks decided to carry the zombie between them. The Turks looking after the other zombies learnt their lesson quickly and did the same thing, all the time avoiding Mamba’s threatening gaze.

  Once he was satisfied, Mamba turned and continued up the steps until he reached the ticket office area. He could see immediately that there was no one around but spotted that the barriers were shut. ‘No biggie’ he thought to himself as he strode towards them and vaulted over.

  He turned to watch the rest of the group trundle into view and waited whil
e they climbed over the barriers and passed their zombies over.

  “Listen up,” Mamba said, then told them what he wanted them to do.

  They all got changed into clean navy-blue overalls and put on non-descript caps. They used wet wipes to remove as much of the blood and guts from their hands, faces and footwear, then bundled up all the dirty rags and clothing and hid them around a corner out of sight.

  They now looked like a gathering of airport workers as they split up into various groups; there were five groups of five, each group taking one of the bound zombies and leaving Mamba, Ahmed and Ayla with another nine of Volkan’s men.

  Mamba had appointed Basir, Umit, Temel, Khalid and Faruk as the five leaders of the mini-teams, although he had a few nagging doubts about letting Faruk loose. Faruk looked as happy as Larry at being selected, but Ismet was clearly ready to explode. Wanting to avoid any unnecessary grief, Mamba changed his mind and made Faruk and Ismet joint leaders. That made them both happy.

  Each group then took a different passageway, pulling their zombie along with them. They weren’t exactly sure where the passages led, but they’d been told to find an exit which led outside, untie the zombie and let it loose, then come back down the tunnels and head for the main exit into Terminal 3. Mamba decided that having just a few zombies wandering around outside should be enough to cause some confusion and panic in case it was needed. He also told the groups to kill any people they came across if they could, but without raising any alarm. They were told not to damage their heads because Mamba wanted them turning and causing even more havoc.

  Once the smaller groups had left, Mamba and his group moved along the main exit corridor towards Terminal 3.

  63

  Day 19 – 03:15

  Heathrow Terminal 3, Tube Station

  Mamba reached the barricade which had been built across the wide access point to Terminal 3, and it only took him a few seconds to figure out which part of the barricade moved aside to allow people to move in and out.