“Okay, guys,” he began, “there looks to be nothing we can’t handle, so I say we go for it. Those on guard, stay on the vehicles and get ready to take the stuff we pass up to you. We won’t know until we get inside how much there is and how long it’ll take, so stay sharp, everyone, and let’s try to get this done as quickly as possible.”
Opening the back of the trailer once more, we lowered the ramp. The back of the trailer was already piled high with a jumble of boxes, sacks and slabs of tinned food. While others broke into the shop, I and a few others began shifting what we had into a more organised stack to make room for what we hoped we could get.
Woody emerged from the shop a few minutes later and spoke to the ones waiting outside, “Right, let’s form a chain and start passing it all out.”
“How much stuff is in there?” I shouted down to him.
“We’ve opened the cartridge store and it has a fair amount in, not as much as there was at Newton Abbot, I’ve been told, but it’ll do. We’re still trying to break into the ammunition safe, but again, it’s not that large so I don’t expect it’ll hold much.”
“Don’t forget the home-loading stuff,” called Willie from beside me on the trailer.
Woody smiled at up at him. “I was just coming to that, Willie. Can you get in there and start sorting through the shelves? You know what you’re looking for better than any of us and it might save some time.” Willie nodded and strode down the ramp and into the shop just as the first slabs of shotgun cartridges started to get passed out.
Trying to remain as quiet as possible, we began using the silenced .22 rifles on the undead when they got close enough. We knew there must be thousands in the area, possibly making their way to us now. If we kept any noise we made to a minimum, it might delay them finding us for a time.
Alternating between firing at any zombies that came close enough and helping to pass and stack the growing pile of cartridges, I was distracted by a banging sound coming from above us. I searched for it, because I initially thought it might be a survivor trying to get our attention, but my momentary hopefulness ended when I saw the head of a zombie banging against the closed window of what must have been a flat above a shop two doors away. It was still above the protected area our vehicles had created, but I gave it no more thought since it couldn’t harm us, and we had plenty of work to get on with.
Willie kept rushing in and out of the shop, carting carrier bags with the shop’s name on filled with what I reasoned to be home-loading supplies and he stacked them in a corner of the trailer.
The work continued with a quiet but determined pace until Captain Hammond walked out of the shop carrying a large nylon bag which he slung into the back of a lorry. His face was dripping with sweat and he paused to take a long drink from the canteen on his belt before speaking to us all, “Can I have a few of you down to exchange positions with some of us? It’s bloody heavy work and a few of us are flagging. Some fresh pairs of arms will keep the pace going and there’s not much more stuff left to get loaded.”
He smiled and nodded at our immediate and positive replies. “Thanks. I’ll send one out at a time and if you can replace them, it will save us stopping the chain we’ve formed.”
Becky went first, insisting she wasn’t as tired as everyone else, as all she’d done at the warehouse was boss us all around and not do any heavy lifting. The pace of loading picked up as the fresh volunteers took over. When the last slab of cartridges was handed to me, we decided that we’d loaded enough onto the trailer and started loading one of the lorries. There were very few zombies in sight now, and as soon as one was in range it was felled by one or our snipers, so a few more of us left their guard positions to help in the final push. We carried on working.
I was standing inside the shop, passing items along the chain, when I heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking, followed seconds later by a loud smash as something hit the pavement. Remembering the zombie in the window, I opened my mouth to scream a warning, but before a sound came out, two heavy thuds sounded outside, followed closely by yells of shock and panic from our party. Everyone in the shop dropped what they were carrying instantly and ran outside.
Marc had been standing in line, passing along whatever was handed to him when the glass broke. He cursed and shouted in pain as a falling piece of broken glass sliced deeply into his cheek. Earlier, he’d removed his helmet and coif when he was working hard, claiming it was making him too hot and if he needed to go and fight them, he could have them back on in seconds.
Holding a hand to his cheek, trying to stem the flow of blood, he’d been flattened by the dead weight of two bodies falling on him. Those around him stood shocked for the smallest of moments before dropping what they were carrying and rushing to his aid. Two writhing and snarling bodies covered him, their arms and legs kicking and grabbing as they tried to feast on the meal that fate had led them to land upon.
Knives and axes were pulled from belts as those around him attacked the zombies with hurried but practised efficiency and in seconds, the two limp bodies were dragged to one side. Marc lay curled on the floor holding his hands against his chest, bellowing in pain.
Ian reached to help him, but he shouted, “Don’t! I think fuckers have bitten me!”
All around him, eyes closed in anguish, swearing and shouts of anger rang out as we gathered beside his prone form. Still holding his hand against himself, he pushed himself upright and sat on the ground, all eyes on him. Gingerly, he raised his hand to his face and stared at the wound. His wrist had a deep bite mark in it and was pouring with blood.
“Ah, fuck it,” was all he said.
I was knocked aside as Jamie pushed past me and kicked him back to the floor. As he lay there stunned, Jamie swung his axe at his outstretched arm and severed it at the elbow. We all stood around, shocked at what he’d just done. Fresh blood was spurting from the stump of Marc’s arm as Jamie threw his axe aside and screamed at the top of his voice.
“Get me a first aid kit!”
That galvanised some into action. Captain Hammond pushed past others while reaching into a pouch in his pack. He pulled out an aid kit and ripped it open as he fell to his knees beside Marc, who was lying in shocked stillness, staring at the stump that had once been his arm. With practised efficiency, Steve tied a tourniquet tightly around his upper arm and wrapped the bleeding stump with a bandage which immediately became soaked red with the blood that still poured from the wound.
My face white with shock at the events of the last minute, I stood numbly staring at Marc for a few more seconds until the captain shouted the command, “Let’s get out of here right now! Help me get Marc onto the trailer.”
Not knowing who was doing what, we milled around for a few more confused seconds before order was restored. A few of us carried Marc back onto the trailer gasping in pain and in shock. We laid him gently on the floor while others retrieved the few items that had been dropped when the zombies fell from the window, and threw them onto the nearest vehicles and scrambled onboard.
“Shawn. Lead the way,” commanded the captain as keys were turned and one by one, engines fired up. A bit more disorderly this time, the convoy jolted forward and with engines roaring, we threw any caution to the wind and sped back to the castle.
All of us in the trailer only had thoughts for Marc and most of us crouched beside his prone figure, trying to cushion him as best we could from Shawn’s wild ride as he pushed the tractor to its top speed.
He was pale faced and lying numb with shock. Tears streamed down his face and his mouth silently uttered curses as waves of pain washed over him and he gradually fell unconscious.
We didn’t know what to say to him. Was he infected? Or had Jamie’s crazy actions saved his life, stopping any infected blood spreading through his body when he hacked off his arm?
Captain Hammond’s calm voice issued instructions as we drove. He told Shawn that they would pull ahead of us as we reached the castle so they could open the gates to
allow him to drive straight through and get to the castle as quickly as possible. He would radio the ones in the castle and get them ready to open the barbican gates the second we were inside the castle grounds.
Grim faces full of concern exchanged silent looks as we comforted Marc the best we could. I was only aware we had arrived at the castle when we raced through the dim light of the barbican. The tractor’s racing engine echoed off the stone walls, making me look up. The increased noise roused Marc and he shouted heartbreakingly before slumping back into a semi state of unconsciousness, “I’m dead already. Don’t let me turn, just kill me now so I can be with my wife and son again.”
I put my hand on the hilt of the knife on my belt, but Becky saw me and shook her head.
“Don’t, Tom. We know it takes ten minutes or so to turn after a bite. If he doesn’t start showing symptoms soon, he may be clean. I think we should keep him in the trailer until we know. If we shut the door, sealing us in, a few of us can stay to keep him as comfortable as possible, we should know soon enough.”
We were still fifty-two, but for how much longer?
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as the vehicles stopped in the courtyard, everyone else dismounted and rushed to the trailer to check on Marc’s condition. Those who had remained behind rushed forward too, but the news from the captain’s urgent radio call hadn’t spread to them all yet. Although, upon seeing how those who had returned were acting, they knew something had gone wrong. They were soon told.
Captain Hammond pushed through the crowd gathering around the trailer and jumped in as soon as the door was opened. Scrambling over the piled-up supplies that filled the bed of the trailer, he crouched beside Marc and inspected the blood-soaked bandages he had hastily wrapped around the shortened stump of his arm.
“I need more bandages,” he shouted to no one in particular, as he carefully raised his arm and began removing them.
He looked up at me. “Does anyone have better medical training than I do around here?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied, “but we don’t know if he’s infected or not yet. It’s only taken ten minutes or so for those who’ve been bitten to turn so far and he must be nearing that time now.”
The captain jerked back slightly at the realisation dawned on him that he could be kneeling next to something that might start to bite him.
Seeing this, I hastily added, “Don’t worry, I’ve seen it happen and we’ll get warning if he’s going to turn. I think it’s best, though, that until we know chopping his arm off has worked, we should shut the door on the trailer and isolate him from the others. If it’s going to happen it shouldn’t be long now.”
He thought for a moment and nodded. “Okay, let’s do that. But I need to try and stop the bleeding, or he won’t make it anyway. The problem is that we’re all trained in battlefield trauma, but that’s only to keep them alive until they get to the medics. Marc needs more help than we can give him if he’s going to make it; if he doesn’t turn first, that is,” he added with a grim smile.
He looked around at the ones still in the trailer. “Okay, folks. Can you all get out please and shut the door on us? Tom and I can take it from here until we know otherwise.”
He raised his voice, “Sergeant Gallon. Where are you?”
His sergeant responded immediately from near the rear door, his Geordie accent sounding cheerful and reassuring.
“Yes Boss? Right behind ya.”
“Get me every aid kit you can gather and then raise the fleet on the radio and get their surgeon on. We need to know what to do if by some miracle he doesn’t turn.”
With a, “Right you are, Boss,” I heard him shouting orders as he ran to do his officer’s bidding. It didn’t take him long to gather and pass me an armful of packages, which I threw down next to the captain and then he closed the door on the trailer, sealing the two of us in. Glancing at my watch, I tried to work out how long it had been since he had been bitten. It had to be over twenty minutes. Marc lay pale faced and still, a sheen of sweat across his face. He wasn’t displaying any of the signs we’d seen before when we watched Louise’s sister turn, all those days ago on Bodmin moor, and my hopes rose.
“Captain, what can I do?” I asked as I crouched down next to him.
“Just keep opening those packs, please. The tourniquet doesn’t seem to be stemming the flow of blood much, so all I can do is keep changing bandages.” He looked at me. “And for God’s sake, can you call me Steve, please?”
We worked furiously on Marc for the next thirty minutes or so. By applying more pressure and changing the bandages, we managed to slow his blood loss to a level that Steve told me was acceptable. The problem was, we knew none of us had the expertise to give him a transfusion, or if we did, even what blood type Marc was. He’d lost a lot of blood, but had he lost enough to cause him more harm? That was a question none of us was qualified to answer
Marc remained unconscious throughout and only groaned in pain as we changed his bandages. I knew that was a good sign because, if he could feel pain, then at least he was still human. Looking at my watch, I decided that he would surely have turned by now if he was going to. Talking it over with Steve, we both decided that it was probably safe to get him into the castle now. We would still keep a close eye on him in case he showed signs, but as we would continually be caring for him, it would just be something that those looking after him would need to watch out for.
We called from the trailer to those we knew were waiting close by to open it up and help get him inside. Using a board they’d already prepared, we carefully lifted him onto it and many willing hands gently carried him to the great hall.
The moment Steve and I stepped away from him, Becky and Sergeant Gallon bustled over to us. Becky was holding a notepad.
“Tom,” she began, and I could tell from her manner that she was in business mode. “I’ve just had a long conversation with the ship’s surgeon. He’s told us what we need to do and what supplies we need to get.” She looked at Steve. “We need to find a chemist or doctor’s surgery, probably both if one doesn’t have what we need.” There’s a chemist on the High Street, I remember seeing it as we passed it earlier, so if I give you the list, you need to get there right now.”
She paused and looked concerned.
“The surgeon recommends cauterising the wound if we can’t stop the bleeding.”
I looked at her, my face displaying my lack of understanding. She raised her eyebrows to me in a look I knew all too well.
“Tom! We have to heat something red hot and seal the wound,” she explained with an irritated tone. “Then he’ll probably need a blood transfusion and a course of antibiotics to keep infection away. If he survives all that, then time and care will be the best recovery method.”
I nodded soberly at the thought of what we needed to do.
“The chemist may have what we need to do transfusions. It should also have simple blood testing kits so we can find out whose blood is compatible.” She handed Steve the list. “Can you get on it right away, please? The surgeon’s waiting for me to report back on his condition.”
Grabbing the list with a, “Yes, Ma’am,” he turned and indicated for the four sergeants, Willie included, to accompany him so they could get on with planning the next mission.
Jamie rushed up to me as soon as he saw I was clear. “How is he?” he asked, his face full of anguish and concern. “I… I just reacted,” he stammered, “D… did I do the right thing?” I looked at my hands covered in blood and slowly nodded my head.
“Yes. You absolutely did the right thing. It was bloody crazy to watch, but he hasn’t turned yet. If he survives the blood loss and shock and hopefully avoids infection, Becky says she thinks he should live.” Relief washed over him and his shoulders slumped as the tension and worry left him.
“What the hell made you act so quickly?” I asked. “I mean, we were all standing there like lemons and you barge forward like a mad axeman, kick him to the
floor and chop his fucking arm off. How did you know what to do?”
He looked at me with a mystified expression as he thought of an answer.
“I haven’t got a clue, really. I think I saw it in a movie somewhere. You know, that one with Brad Pitt. That soldier woman he was with got bitten by a zombie and he chopped her hand off to save her life. It just came to me and I knew there was no time to waste. If I did nothing, he was dead anyway, so I just did it without thinking, really.”
I slapped his mail-clad back. “Brilliant, mate. I know Woody joked a few days ago that we needed to start watching zombie films and TV shows as a training guide and I think he’s probably right. They’ll have a whole load of stuff in them we haven’t thought of or come across yet.” I chuckled quietly. “I think we need to plan a visit to somewhere that sells DVDs soon and keep an eye out for a big television and DVD player.”
I looked at the group of soldiers still deep in discussion in a corner of the large room. “Anyway,” I continued, “let’s leave that for another day because we need to go out again and get the medical supplies that Marc needs. Shall we go and see what we can do to help?”
Before any vehicle could leave, we first needed to empty them of the supplies we’d gathered, otherwise the mass of boxes and packages that littered the beds of them would make an unstable platform from which to battle zombies. Steve only wanted to take the tractor and armoured car on the mission to the chemist. Between them, they could take enough people to provide a strong fighting force and both vehicles had the power, strength and armour to smash through anything they came across.
Every available person who was not on guard or tending to Marc gathered in the courtyard and began unloading. There was no time to do a neat job and soon a massed, jumbled mountain of food, ammunition, weapons and a myriad other items we had gathered, piled up on the grass. The moment the last box had been unloaded, those chosen to go on the mission boarded the vehicles and sped out through the barbican as soon as the gates were opened, and the portcullis raised.
Zombie Castle Series (Book 4): ZC Four Page 9
