The Reanimated Dead (Book 1): Into the Cotswolds

by Wakefield, Trevor

  By the time Sarah and I had got there the queue was minimal as was her hangover. The food options were; pie, veg and gravy, Pasta and sauce or spam and chips. Surprisingly I heard no moans at all, and so there shouldn’t have been. Free hot food. This was great. I had the chips and spam and bloody loved it. People were also cleaning their own plates and tables without being asked, as they should, but also thanking the cooks. Community spirit was alive and kicking at the moment and long may it continue.

  The afternoon I spent in the passenger seat of the 90 listening in on Brian and Kev and their guys on the radio. It wasn’t just day to day reports that they were up to today though. There seemed to be a bit of a Chinese parliament going on with regards to the next shopping trip. The chaps on the motor bike had gone out and taken some snaps and video of the surrounding areas. TRAD activity in this area was high especially today. Even at the fence line eleven zombies had been dispatched with spears through the front gate and fence line to keep the noise down and save ammunition.

  Talk soon moved to diversionary tactics including setting up large speakers in one of the no go zones to draw them in and keep them there. That was poo pooed due to the power needed to create the volume needed. Nobody thought a portable system that we could make up with what we had around could do what we wanted. Someone suggested luring them into a field and then hot wiring a combine harvester and mowing them all down. That raised more than a few laughs and I must admit a bloody good chuckle from me.

  Someone else suggested fireworks. Even if they weren’t drawn to the sight, as it would be daytime, they should respond to the sudden noise and vibrations. A few of the guys admitted that they had some fireworks and were now throwing in the idea of planting improvised explosives alongside them too. In effect, lure them in with the fireworks and then blow as many as possible up. Their idea was that the first firework would lure a load, the explosion wipes a load out but also the bang and moaning would draw more in. A double draw.

  I was pretty much sold on the combine harvester idea myself; we had the perfect field next to the sports centre it was just on the wrong side of the school.

  Turning the police radio off for a bit, I turned the 90s radio on to radio Bristol. Music was playing but no DJ as such. The music was pretty upbeat for a change and it was eight minutes before the news came on. Top story was that three members of the cabinet had been found alive and had made it (how was never said) into the Bristol stronghold. The most senior being the education secretary who was now appointed the Prime Minister. Slimy wanker had always wanted that position but what real power he would actually have over the country remained to be seen, from what I could see the country had slipped back into tribal rule, everyone thinking only about their group and how best to survive. Making the country one again was more than this gob shite could manage that was for sure.

  Bristol was still infection free but was no longer expanding its protective boarders, they were switching to rescue efforts. It didn’t say how, where or when and could just have been nothing but spin and total bullshit from the new PM to try and lift moral for those of us left and make him feel like he was actually in charge. The only thing in charge was this infection and we had to find a way around it.

  Jersey and Guernsey were still infection free and enjoying damn good weather. That’s me sold for a holiday there when flights resume!

  Still no news about the rest of the world and now that we had a government of sorts – or at least three people of it – we could get our overseas forces back. Surely those on ships, submarines etc would be fairly unaffected, wouldn’t they? If the Marines and SBS on training could have the balls and free thinking to protect two of the Channel Islands, then why couldn’t the Navy take the initiative after orders stopped coming through?

  Too many questions and not enough answers, no wonder everybody was just thinking of themselves. I turned off the radio, locked the 90 and went for a walk. I suppose I should officially see Christopher’s admin team and officially put myself down for security or something of the like.

  Sarah was with her friends and gave me an embarrassed/piss off and don’t embarrass me look. I smiled and waved like a lunatic anyway which made her quickly look away. I walked on smiling when out of nowhere a Stocky chap with at least two weeks stubble, it was patchy, you couldn’t call it a beard, stepped out from behind a blue Citroen Relay van with matching blue makeshift tarpaulin awning.

  ‘The fuck have you got to smile about fuck face!’ He spat. I didn’t get the time to answer. ‘You’re one of the food getting cunts ain’t ya!’ It wasn’t a question, he knew I was. ‘What type of extras have you got back at your camp then eh?’ He took a large step towards me as he said it. I was determined to stand my ground and not give the little scrote the satisfaction of making me backstep, though even if I had wanted to, I heard someone quietly come up behind me.

  Stubble had a seven- or eight-inch sheath knife on his belt. I had the police utility belt with my machete attached though he would out draw me with his smaller knife if it came to it. The person behind I still didn’t know what they had or what their intentions were.

  ‘Bet you’ve got some nice shit stashed back in that four by four of yours eh?’ He asked menacingly.

  ‘Oh, there are some surprises in there I assure you, but you won’t get your fat hands on them bud.’ I smiled.

  Stubble didn’t like that one little bit and went for his blade. Luckily it was still secured by the popper and strap. I went for the left-hand side of the utility belt but before I could two hands swept up under my armpits, behind my head and locked together, keeping my arms out wide from my belt and body. My shoulder started to let me know that it wasn’t happy I hadn’t put any gel on it. I sub consciously told it to shut the fuck up as it may get a lot worse soon.

  Wearing my Magnum toe capped boots, I changed my idea and kicked straight into stubbles bollocks, it took the wind right out of him and he dropped the knife. He was just about to heave his guts up as I kicked out again. I was aiming for his stomach but whoever was holding me pulled me back and my toe cap caught stubble right under the chin. Blood and shit flew out of his mouth as he recoiled back against the blue van and sank to his scruffy arse.

  The bloke behind me, tried again to lift me off my feet, perhaps to unfoot me and get me on the ground I wasn’t sure. I turned my instep and ground the sole of my boot down the inside of his shin ending with a good stamp on his Crocs. Crocs!? There are some types of footwear that you don’t wear to a fight and flip flops and Crocs are it! He crouched in pain, so I did the same with the other foot then smashed his ribs with my elbows, first left then right. Crocs then released his hold as I span around, grabbed both his ears and bought his head down to my rising knee and burst his nose across his face with the satisfying sound of crunching cartilage. I let go of him and with my left hand drew out the police taser and gave him 50,000 volts to the neck. He flipped to the floor for a quick break dance. Stubble was still on his arse out cold with blood pouring from his mouth. On the floor by his right foot was three teeth and about a centimetre of tongue. Served the twat right.

  The average street fight lasts between twenty and thirty seconds, with mostly neither the instigator nor the victim having it turn out how they intended. It didn’t turn out how they had wanted as they – or at least stubble – meant me some serious harm, and it didn’t turn out how I wanted as I intended on tazering the bastard quick and simple. Oh well.

  I looked up and saw one of the security guys on a platform pointing towards me whilst on the radio. I stayed where I was as Bryan arrived with his 9mm pistol and radio in hand.

  ‘What the fuck is going on here mate?’ He asked, taking in the blood around and on my knee. Neither stubble or Crocs were moving, and I was about to answer when several people behind me started saying I had set upon these two innocent guys as they were on the way back from the toilet.

  I obviously denied it vigorously and Bryan listened in to the radio. ‘That’s not the way it h
as been seen from tower three.’ He told the assembled crowd. They then got louder in their accusations of me and more aggressive when Sarah appeared with a phone and showed Brian the video on it.

  ‘It’s Pauls phone.’ She said. ‘He keeps it charged up as it has pictures and videos of his family on. He saw this guy.’ She pointed to stubble who was starting to come around with the help of some of the on lookers. ‘He said he saw him acting strange just waiting around behind the van, so he videoed him.’

  The video was played several times to me and the on lookers and it clearly showed that I was the one that was set upon. The troublemakers soon moved off but not before I made a mental note of their faces so I could watch out for them in the future. Bryan was on the radio and two other chaps turned up and took Stubble and Crocs away for some first aid. I looked at the teeth and piece of tongue on the floor. ‘What about these Brian?’

  He stood on them and ground them into the worn grass and mud. ‘About what mate?’ Gave me and Sarah a smile and then walked off talking into the radio.

  I turned to Sarah who had now been joined by Paul. I offered him my hand to shake, he looked at it funny and fist bumped me. Sarah just looked at me embarrassed that a handshake was ‘so old man’ but then smiled.

  ‘Cheers Paul.’ As we fist bumped. ‘I could have been in some real shit there!’

  ‘No probs. There are some real troublemakers around here mind, yeah?’

  He wasn’t wrong. I nodded, made my excuses and carried on with my walk. It all went fine after that, no problems just smiles, waves and nods. Lots of work around the back. Plastic drums being planted, tyres being used to grow stacked potatoes. Turf was being taken up everywhere and little allotments were popping up in their place. People were certainly pitching in. All of this in just a day, let’s hope it kept up.

  I had been back at the 90 just chilling reading a book I had found and waiting for Sarah to come back to go to dinner for a few hours. I was sat in one of the folding chairs, with no top on hoping the fresh air combined with the gel would sooth my bruises and using the wire basket as a foot stool with a cup of tea as Christopher popped his head up over the windbreak.

  ‘Excuse me Brian, could I have a word please?’

  ‘Yeah, of course mate, come on in.’ I stood up under the tarp and reached for Sarah’s chair, cleaning all her crap off it for Christopher to sit on. I indicated for him to sit down and he took the offer, squeezing his ample arse into it. ‘What can I do for you?’ I asked knowing full well what it would be regarding but not specifics.

  He paused for a bit looking at the purple bruises across my belly and right shoulder. ‘About the incident earlier. Umm, did they give you those bruises?’

  I shook my head. ‘Car crash yesterday.’

  ‘Ah, okay, am I to believe the altercation was about you getting food as payment for your part in the food scavenging?’

  ‘Have you seen Pauls video on his phone?’ I asked.

  ‘I have.’ He shuffled his arse uncomfortably in his flimsy seat. ‘I have no issue with how you dealt with the situation, it was pure self-defence but the only person to say that it was about food is you.’

  ‘Was it not clear on the video?’ I snapped.

  ‘The video started as you were grabbed. All you can hear is about what is in your four by four.’

  My piss was starting to boil. ‘So, you believe I defended myself legitimately, but don’t believe the reason of why I was started on?’

  ‘Well everyone has been given the chance to earn extra like you have done so why would they be jealous?’

  ‘At the meeting, did stubble and Crocs volunteer for anything?’

  Christopher looked at me strangely for a moment before it clicked who I was talking about. ‘John and Craig haven’t yet but are interested in helping with security and fence duty they told me earlier.’

  I Laughed and theatrically slapped my thigh. ‘So now they got their asses handed to themselves trying to take what I may have got extra to them for doing work for the camp, they now want to go straight?’ I laughed again. ‘Look, they wanted what I had in the 90. If they are denying it then I don’t care, that’s what happened.’

  Christopher held his hands out in a calming manner. For just a caretaker he was quite at ease with people getting pissy. ‘Okay Brian, I just had to ask for your side of things.’ He paused. ‘Now… Punishment for them. I like to think that we are all in this thing together. I have no stomach for banishment or killing one of our own…’

  ‘Whoa!’ I stopped him right there! ‘Fucking what?!’

  ‘There have been rumours this afternoon that the consensus is for them to be hung.’ He said solemnly.

  ‘That has absolutely nothing to do with me! I’ve been here all afternoon chilling and tending to my bruises that just seem to get bigger and more colourful!’

  Christopher countered. ‘I never said you did Brian.’ His hands still open and in a calming gesture. ‘It’s just what seems to be going around the camp. I believe there should be some punishment for what they have done to you, I just don’t believe in death or banishment as they are pretty much the same.’

  ‘Okay, well as far as I see it, Stubble has lost the end of his tongue and a few teeth, that’s gotta hurt and won’t be able to eat for a good few days and Crocs got a broken nose and a few thousand volts, why can’t we leave it at that?’

  Christopher looked at me unbelieving. ‘No formal punishment?’

  I was exasperated at this point. I had told him to leave it but what did he want? ‘Like what? A whipping with a cat-o-nine tails? Want me to use those pallets over there and knock up some stocks so we can pelt them with old veg and used sanitary products?!’

  Christopher’s face contorted in disgust. ‘We need to do something, or it could all come down to mob Justice and then the camp will break down just as we are trying to unite it and flourish.’

  I sighed. ‘look, why don’t you call a meeting with everyone like the other night, drag these guys up on to a stage, show them to the camp and tell everyone what happened. Then tell them that the hanging rumour is just that unless it had ended in murder. Give them some unpaid community service and make them wear Hi-Viz vests so they stand out doing it.’

  Christopher looked quite happy with that. ‘I’ll tell everyone that we have spoken, and this is what we’ve come up with so that they know victims will have a say in punishment within reason from now on.’

  ‘Knock yourself out mate.’

  With that he hauled his fat arse out of the folding seat, I’m sure it actually sighed with relief and it wasn’t just the tightness of the stitching singing. He shook my hand and wobbled off down the hill.

  Sarah hadn’t turned up to go to dinner, so I decided to go on my lonesome. Chips and spam again but this time I found a bottle of HP sauce floating around to go with it. Almost Michelin star quality. As I sat down with my plate, I could hear kids laughing. At the far end was Sarah, Paul and some other kids. She stopped laughing as she saw me, but I just smiled and waved, she needed to be with kids of her own age group, she waved back and joined back in the fun.

  I was clearing my plate away and contemplating some tinned fruit and squirty cream as desert when someone came in and announced there would be a meeting in the sports hall at seven pm tonight. No doubt someone else was doing the same around the camp.

  I wasn’t going to go; I decided against the dessert and went back to camp to finish my book and give my bruises some more painkilling gel.

  About twenty past seven I could see people coming back to their tents, caravans, motorhomes and watch towers. People were chatting but no one came over, then around five to eight Sarah came back to camp.

  ‘Where were you tonight?’

  ‘Sat here reading my book and scratching my balls. Why?’ I replied without even looking over the top of my book.

  She screwed her face up in disgust. ‘Well the meeting was kind of about you.’

  ‘Was my name mentioned then?
’

  ‘Well, no, but you were the one attacked, and they were up on stage.’

  ‘Did they sing or dance? Magic act?’ Still trying to read my book, made harder by the fact that the last twenty pages were stuck together by the tea I spilt over it earlier.

  ‘Don’t you care? They aren’t going to be hung!’ She almost shrieked.

  I dropped the book into my lap. ‘No shit!’

  ‘You already knew?!’

  ‘I saw Christopher just before dinner. We chatted and we agreed no flogging, hanging or stocks.’

  She looked close to tears. ‘But they attacked you! They could have killed you!’

  ‘And one lost teeth and a bit of tongue, the other a broken nose. All done in my book.’

  ‘They are getting let off.’ She was almost crying and was pretty damn angry.

  ‘What was said about it?’

  She sat in her seat with a thump. I should have warned her that Christopher had tested it to about an inch of destruction earlier on, but it held her small frame okay. ‘They have to do two weeks of body disposal and site clearance wearing orange Hi-Viz vests, so we all know who they are and why they are doing it. Then their jobs will be Tree and hedge clearing of which the first two weeks will be half pay.’

  ‘Again, I say: and?’

  Her head flopped forward as if she had no more energy left to argue, well almost. ‘It’s not fair, they intended you and possibly me if I had been here when they turned up harm. And they just get a slap on the wrists for it.’

  I suppose I had forgotten it would have affected her too. ‘Look, it’s okay. Two weeks of moving and burning putrefying bodies which has its own dangers, for no reward and then getting put on a very physical and labour intensive job afterwards for only half pay whilst everyone is looking at them thinking they are wankers, plus the beating and embarrassment they have already been subject to. I’m happy with that, killing them would tell everyone in camp that we don’t value human life.’

  ‘Bollocks it is!’ she got up so quickly that her chair fell backwards to the floor and she stomped off, probably back to her friends.