I looked at the much-diminished pile of materials we had unloaded. There was not much remaining, but then again, we seemed to have completed most of the work needed.
Shawn had concentrated his efforts on Stuart’s tractor and silage trailer. It was the third one he’d performed his magic on, and his growing experience showed in how quickly he transformed them into a zombie-destroying mobile castle. Steve hoped that once the farm was secure, they would begin missions to reconnoitre the area in the search of survivors and supplies. The supplies would be stockpiled at the farm in one of its many outbuildings. What would happen to any survivors they found would depend on their circumstances. Stuart had already indicated he would be willing to allow more people to join them at the farm, saying it would be selfish of him not to permit it, following the kindness and generosity we’d shown to him. He did raise concerns that as they would be a much smaller group than us, whoever was allowed to join needed to be the ‘right kind’ of person; someone who would be able to get along with everyone and help them achieve their aims.
We assured him this would be the case, although his comments did make us realise how fortunate we had been so far, in that everyone we’d found had the right attitude and agreed with what our ultimate goal was. Had natural selection already weeded out most of the selfish and ungrateful or just unwilling from our society? Some bad apples would, of course, choose the other path, just like the gang we had just eliminated. We fervently hoped the former outnumbered the latter.
With shouts of ‘see you soon’ and other pleasantries, our much lighter vehicles left the following morning to return home. Steve was driving the armoured car with just one man operating the machine gun, while everyone else who was returning home lined the sides of the trailer and lorry, waving farewell to our newfound friends and the soldiers who were staying to garrison the place. As soon as we got back, Steve would return with the rest of the Broughs and stay a day or two to settle in the men. His sergeant, Geoff Gallon, had volunteered to be the first to command the garrison, with the duty being rotated around Woody and Eddy as time passed.
I looked back at what we had achieved as we drove down the track. From the outside it looked formidable, a real outpost of hope in the midst of so much death and horror. I believed it would live up to expectations. Turning away, I settled down to watch the countryside passing by. Trying to protect my bandaged hands, I wedged myself into a corner of the trailer to avoid the need to hold on to the sides.
About halfway home, my eye was drawn to a flash of light. I turned my head and stared hard at where I thought it had come from. I could see the backs of houses in a village we were skirting around the edge of. I was about to dismiss it as the sun glinting of a window but then realised the day was too overcast for that, so I kept looking as we drove onwards.
“Stop!” I shouted when I spotted a light continually flashing from a window. Grabbing the binoculars and ignoring the pain, I raised them to my eyes and stared intently through them, searching for the source through the magnified vision. “There,” I shouted again, pointing with my free hand. “Someone’s flashing a torch at us though an upstairs window over there.” By now, the vehicle had stopped and I was able to steady my aim. “I can see someone,” I added excitedly. Ian picked up the walkie talkie to tell Shawn and Steve what I’d spotted.
We all knew without consultation that we would be going to help, so that was not debated. We just had to decide how to reach them.
The most direct route, straight to the house over the fields, was discounted because of the deep ditch that ran along the side of the road. Studying the map, we identified a lane coming up which led directly to the village, so without hesitation, all three vehicles, two lined with weapons held ready occupants, headed towards it. I could see it wasn’t a large village, just a few houses surrounding a church, the spire of which could be seen rising above them all. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine the layout from the many beautiful, small English villages I’d visited or driven through in the past. It probably contained one street lined with old houses, with a few new developments leading off from them. The church would be at its centre and if they were lucky, the local pub would have survived closure to still provide refreshment for all. It was how many unwelcome visitors we would find there that would be the only unknown quantity. And if whoever was signalling to us from an upstairs window was as desperate as the flashing light suggested, it didn’t bode well.
When we entered the village it was easy to spot the building we needed to aim for. The front of the pub that faced the small village green was thronged with the undead, who began to peel away from crowding around its main door and started to head towards us when the noise of our arrival proved a more tempting target. The door to the pub was open and even though we couldn’t see through its walls, I could imagine it was packed with ‘customers’ and the ones outside were pushing against them compressing them even further.
Raising his weapon, Eddy called out, “Thin them out, guys but watch your fire discipline. We don’t know where they are in the building yet.”
Individual cracks reverberated across the village as on single fire our bullets tore through the front ranks of zombies. Unable to hold my rifle, I watched the destruction the others were causing, grunting with satisfaction as the 5.56mm bullets punched holes though foreheads and faces, spraying the ones behind with their now very dead brains and virus infected blood. The vehicles we were in would protects us completely from what was stumbling towards us, and remorse or regret had long since been quashed in my emotions as I watched what was once another living person’s life being ended. We had a job to do and by the way the corpses were beginning to pile up, forming a barrier the ones behind now struggled to climb over, we were getting good at it.
Not many words were exchanged between us all as the smoking brass bullet casings ejected from weapons rolled across the timber bed of the trailer. After every engagement, we diligently collected as many as we could find so they could be reloaded using the components and machines we had scavenged from the gun shops and then stored in the many boxes of bullets we had in the armoury. Bullets were a finite resource which needed to be husbanded carefully.
The outcome was as inevitable as it was gory and before long, the flow of bodies that had initially begun streaming out of the open main doors of the pub to join their zombie brethren had slowed to a trickle as the stragglers joined their now deceased comrades, hopefully in a more peaceful place.
“Let them clear the door before putting them down,” called out Eddy. “Otherwise we’ll have to climb over them to get inside, I imagine.” We could all see this was a sensible idea, so there was a pause in firing as they waited for the remaining ones to get away from the entrance before they, too, were re-killed. Magazines were changed and new ones slapped home and the firing slowly decreased as the last few were killed. In the quiet that followed, I studied the pub. On a different day in a different life, it would have been an ideal refreshment stop on a sunny day. The piles of dead stacked in front of it now suited the gloomy, blustery, rain-threatening day it was now, though.
Movement in an upper window caught my attention. I could see three of four faces staring down at us. The pale, wide-eyed, terror-filled faces I could see seemed more scared than relieved. Which was understandable, as not for one minute did they imagine that the rescue they’d been so long hoping and praying for would turn up in armoured cars and Mad Max-style vehicles with everyone firing automatic weapons from them.
As the last crack of a rifle rolled away into silence when one late arriving, final zombie fell, I waved and smiled at the faces looking down on us in a vague attempt to reassure them we were a lot more friendly than we probably looked. There was more activity at the window and after a brief struggle with the latch, the window opened, and a bewildered looking man leaned from it. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if struggling to know what to say, before eventually settling for a brief, shaky sounding, “Hello?”
�
�Hi,” I shouted back, trying to sound as cheerful as possible, “I’m glad we saw your signal. How long have you been stuck here?”
“Weeks,” came the reply. “Since it began.”
Putting his lack of chattiness down to shock, I carried on talking to try to get him to realise he was now safe, and we were not a threat
“We were establishing a new base and were returning to our main one when we spotted you. We are, in a way, working under the authority of the surviving British military to begin establishing outposts, so we can create safe havens for survivors and safe places to gather and store supplies.” The mention of the military worked, as I’d hoped it should. Any survivors would, I imagined, be expecting that the first help to arrive would be from the government itself and wouldn’t present itself as we had in our ragtag collection of both military and converted farm vehicles. His face changed from shock to hope as I continued, “How many are you and are you okay for supplies?”
I didn’t mention yet that we would be willing to let them come with us because I thought it might sound too pushy. They had to get used to the idea that they’d been saved first of all.
His response this time was more confident as he looked at us with renewed hope. “I’m the landlord of this place. I’ve got my wife and five villagers who managed to make it here. We’re okay for supplies because the pub’s storeroom is on the upper floors.” He laughed. “And imagine how I used to moan about having to carry them all upstairs. I’m bloody glad we did now because otherwise we’d have starved long ago.” He paused as he studied our vehicles with renewed interest. “Where have you come from? We heard you first and then caught glimpses of vehicles a few days ago and we’ve been desperately trying to signal to you every time you passed.” He turned and looked back into the room and then turned and shrugged, a half smile on his face. “One of us even wanted to set fire to the building so you would spot us, but the sensible ones amongst us dissuaded him.” I could hear a moan of mock protest from within the room and smiled back at him, saying,
“Yes, we have some who would come up with an equally dangerous idea. I caught sight of your light flashing out of the corner of my eye, so at least you didn’t have to resort to that.” I indicated to all of us and continued. “We’ve set ourselves up at Warwick Castle. There are over fifty of us now. Since we arrived, we’ve fortified the place and concentrated on gathering supplies.” I spoke with genuine pride. “It really is an amazing place, where our children are as safe as they can possibly be, despite what’s happening to the rest of the country; the world in fact. We’re mainly civilians but as you can see, we’re lucky to have the help of soldiers, too.”
At my comment, Eddy spoke gruffly, his scarred face and general tough-looking demeanour contradicting the humour in his voice, “I’m a Marine, don’t you include me with those soldier boys. We’re the ones they call on when they’re in trouble and can’t tie their shoelaces or have run out of makeup.”
Everyone, including the man in the window, laughed at his comment, which diffused any last traces of nerves or doubt he might have had about our good intentions.
I decided to ask the question, “Do you want to come with us? We’ve welcomed many into our group and we come from all walks of life, but what we’ve achieved together is incredible.” I then added for effect, “We even have a vicar with us, but the true boss of our group is Maud, a lady we rescued from Bodmin Moor. She may be old and small but none of us dares get on the wrong side of her.” I looked around conspiratorially and lowered my voice, “Don’t tell her I called her old, though.”
The man didn’t even confer with those behind him as he replied, “Yes, please. We can’t stay here any longer. We would have left weeks ago to find somewhere safer but,” he pointed to the piles of bodies we’d created, “we couldn’t get out.”
“Great,” I replied as everyone else in the vehicles let out a cheer of agreement. “Do you need a hand getting anything? We’ve got plenty of food, clothing and other supplies back home, but we have space for any personal possessions or anything else you might have that’s useful. Give us a few minutes to clear a path to the door and we’ll be ready for you.”
“We can’t get downstairs,” replied the man. “We destroyed the staircase to stop them reaching us. We haven’t got much in the way of food left but we can pack that up if you want. We do have a fair amount of booze left, though. There was a lot more, but we’ve had very little to do to amuse ourselves apart from card games, board games and the odd tipple or two.”
My grin broadened at the thought of more booze being added to the already impressive stock we had. “Now you’re talking. I don’t think booze is one thing we can countenance running short of.” I studied the building for a moment. “I tell you what. If we pull up to the front, we can raise a ladder and you can climb down. It’ll be safer than scrambling over the corpses, especially since the sneaky bastards are sometimes hard to kill.”
Ten minutes later, Shawn had used the plough to push the zombies into a grotesque jumble of death and the six occupants began climbing down into our trailer. After handshakes and warm welcomes were exchanged, a few of us climbed the ladder to help them pack up and load everything they wanted to take.
Once the last box of wine bottles was carried down the ladder, we stowed it and with a roar of engines, we drove off in the direction of home, chatting to the new arrivals, telling them the outline of our story with the promise of a full update when we were safely behind the walls of the castle.
Epilogue
The welcome we all received on our return was typical of our group. Everyone made a great effort to make our new arrivals feel as relaxed as possible, even the dogs, who seemed to be in competition to make themselves their favourites, just in case that meant more treats coming their way. The Broughs joined in with us all. They were returning with Steve, who wanted to refuel the truck and get back to the farm before night fell. The day was getting on due to our unexpected, but fruitful delay. Their brief time at the Castle had been spent usefully as they listened to and learnt from all our experiences, the mistakes we’d made and the successes we’d achieved. It was rewarding to see all that become shared knowledge, instead of just ours. The bonds that we formed would further bring our two groups together and more than one or two tears were shed by a few as last hugs and promises of ‘see you soon’ were shared. Finally, they climbed into the back of the armoured car to begin their return journey.
The sadness of our recent losses only marred slightly the celebration we held that night to welcome our arrivals, who were in awe initially at their new surroundings and marvelled at what we’d achieved when we gave them all a tour of the structure. Apart from Jake, the landlord of the pub and his wife Jenny, the rest only had the clothes they stood up in for possessions. They’d lived in deteriorating conditions at the pub as the water had stopped flowing, making washing and general hygiene increasingly difficult. They relished the chance to wash using hot water and put on the new clothes we got for them from our stores.
Following the meal, as Steve was absent, Willie took it upon himself to update the fleet as to our increase in population, while some of us put the children to bed and others retired to sit in the comfortable chairs of the Great Hall. The new arrivals had been told what was happening in the Scilly Isles and waited just as expectantly as the rest of us for Wille to finish and inform us of their progress.
Walking back into the room as we sat around the blazing fire in the Great Hall, he topped up his whisky and sat next to Maud, taking her hand into his as he did so, relishing the delay he was deliberately causing, evident from the cheeky grin on his face and the expectant looks on ours.
I broke the stand-off by blurting out, “For God’s sake, man, stopping grinning like a Cheshire cat and just bloody tell us, will you?”
He theatrically took another sip of his drink before saying, “The mission is complete, and the Scilly Isles have been declared zombie free.” He waited for the applause and cheers to
die down before he continued, “Everyone is now disembarking from the ships and boats and accommodation is being allocated. They’re having a few logistical difficulties in how to unload what’s worthwhile from the container ships, because the port facilities on the island aren’t capable of dealing with the larger vessels. But as the one thing they do have is enough people to help, they’re confident a workable solution will be forthcoming soon enough.”
Charles stood up and we remained quiet as he asked us all to give thanks for another landmark reached and the sacrifices that had been made to achieve it.
“Did they give any idea about what they plan to do next?” I inquired when he’d finished and returned to his chair.
Willie once again smiled and took another slow sip of his drink as he enjoyed delaying the next news. “All in good time, laddie,” he said, winking at me and taking another slow sip until Maud this time spoke up. She slapped his leg and spoke sternly.
“Stop this behaviour, you silly man. You may think it’s funny, but you are being rude and not amusing at all. If you don’t tell us now, I will hide those whisky bottles you think you have hidden away from me. I know exactly where they are, and you will never find them if I move them.”
Zombie Castle Series (Book 4): ZC Four Page 21
