Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  Mamba had been acting paranoid for the whole journey, winding down his side window to try to listen for the sound of helicopters and getting Dev to almost break his neck watching the skies through the panoramic sunroof. So far, they’d not seen or heard anything, but Mamba was still on tenterhooks. He couldn’t wait to find cover.

  Mamba had originally decided to put some distance between himself and Corsham, only stopping in Chippenham to see if there was anything worth taking, then making a beeline for the M4 so he could start the one-hundred-and-forty-kilometre journey to Heathrow, but now he was having second thoughts. When the helicopters came, and he was sure they would come, he and his men would be like sitting ducks pissing about in the middle of the M4. Therefore, he needed to find cover where the helicopters couldn’t find them.

  So, that either meant hiding in Chippenham until the coast was clear or sticking to the back roads. Of course, Heathrow would expect him to head straight for them, so the other option was to go in a totally different direction. Decisions, decisions.

  For the first time in quite a while, Mamba was unsure what to do. He wished Ahmed was in the car rather than the tractor so he could get his opinion. He could have asked via the walkie talkie, but he didn’t want Dev to see him being indecisive. He could have asked Dev for his opinion, but Dev was a follower, not a leader. Did that mean Ahmed was a leader? No. But he did have a brain…sometimes.

  Mamba picked up the walkie talkie as they reached the roundabout and Ahmed stopped the tractor. As expected, it didn’t take long for the walkie talkie to crackle into life and Ahmed come through asking which way to go.

  Mamba pulled up behind him.

  “Never mind that,” Mamba replied. “Swap wiv Dev again.”

  “Why? There’s fuckin’ zombies ‘round.”

  “Then ya betta fuckin’ move quick!”

  Dev looked all around the car, seeing zombies heading towards them, but far enough away that he should be able to make the few metres required to get to the tractor without needing to fight. He opened the door, jumped out and sprinted towards the tractor. He was quite pleased to get away from Mamba, truth be told.

  As he arrived at the tractor, Ahmed jumped down and started running back to the Range Rover.

  Ahmed climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door just as the closest zombie’s arm slapped against the side window.

  “Hope it’s toughened glass,” Mamba mused. “What d’ya reckon, go inta town ‘n hole up ‘n wait fer the ‘copters ta bugger off, take the motorway ‘n mebbe get spotted or take the back roads?”

  “What ‘copters?” Ahmed asked, looking around.

  “Duh! They ain’t here yet, but they’ll be comin’.”

  Ahmed thought about it.

  “Town.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Mamba agreed, and clicked his walkie talkie.

  He was surprised when he heard crackling in the car and looked down to see another walkie talkie in Ahmed’s lap.

  “Where the fuck did ya get that walkie talkie?” Mamba asked.

  “It’s the one from the tractor…” Ahmed started. “Shit!”

  “Ya wanker!” Mamba shouted. “How’s Dev s’posed ta know where ta go? Fuckin’ hand signals?”

  By this time, the car was surrounded by zombies, all trying to reach the occupants. There was no way Ahmed was getting out at that precise moment.

  “Drive up ta the tractor,” Ahmed suggested.

  Mamba looked forwards and could just about see the cabin above the zombie’s heads. He looked in the rear-view mirror and couldn’t see the car behind. If the bloody helicopters turned up now, they were well and truly fucked. It would be like playing hide and seek but with some arsehole pointing out where they were hiding.

  “Fuck it!” Mamba said, revving the engine.

  He put the car in reverse and backed up, pushing the zombies behind him until his car met the one behind and crushed them. Looking forward again, he saw that some zombies had fallen over and were trying to get back up, but some were still clinging on to the bonnet. He put the car in gear and drove forward, knocking some zombies over and crushing others as the car bounced over them as he steered for the right-hand side of the tractor.

  The huge back wheels of the tractor filled the passenger side window as Mamba edged forward, and once the window was between the tractor’s front and back tyres he stopped.

  Ahmed looked at him.

  “Well, what ya waitin’ fer?” Mamba asked. “Pass him the fuckin’ thing.”

  Ahmed looked out his side window, then back to Mamba.

  “I ain’t fuckin’ gettin’ out. There’s still zombies crawlin’ under the tractor.”

  “Well, open yer window ‘n chuck it up.”

  Ahmed looked again.

  “Nah, too dangerous. Why don’t ya take the lead?”

  Mamba looked forward sarcastically at the vehicles littered across the roundabout.

  “Er, I dunno Ahmed. Mebbe ‘cos of all the fuckin’ vehicles in the way!”

  “Well, we can’t stay here,” Ahmed opined.

  “Really?” Mamba replied, his voice still dripping with sarcasm. “So, what do ya suggest we do, smartarse?”

  A horn sounded some way behind them, and Mamba turned in his seat and shouted ‘fuck off’ even though no one would hear him. However, when he turned back, he noticed that the zombies surrounding his car were heading off in search of the new sound.

  “Yeah! Go on, fuck off” Mamba said under his breath.

  “I tol’ ya, I ain’t gettin’ out,” Ahmed replied.

  “I wasn’t talkin’ ta ya. I was talkin’ ‘bout the zombies.”

  Ahmed looked around and saw what Mamba was talking about.

  “Stick yer head outta the sunroof ‘n tell ‘em ta keep soundin’ the horn,” Mamba ordered.

  Ahmed looked up and around.

  “Can’t. It don’t open.”

  Mamba looked himself and saw that Ahmed was right.

  “Shit fuckin’ car wiv a windscreen on the roof,” Mamba remarked.

  “It’s called a pana…” Ahmed began.

  “I don’t give a shit what it’s called,” Mamba interrupted.

  The horn sounded again, and more zombies turned and started walking off.

  “Now’s yer chance,” Mamba said, noticing there was now clear space around the Range Rover and the tractor.

  Ahmed quickly signalled to Dev to open his cabin door, and when he did so, Ahmed quickly opened his car door and thrust the walkie talkie into Dev’s outstretched hand. Then they both got back inside their vehicles and slammed the doors.

  “Ya like Chippenham?” Mamba asked.

  Ahmed looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “How am I s’posed ta know when I ain’t bin there?” he asked incredulously.

  “Ya ain’t bin to Blackpool either but ya seem ta know a lot ‘bout it.”

  “That’s diff’rent. I read ‘bout it ‘n seen pictures in a magazine.”

  Mamba shrugged and clicked his walkie talkie as the horn sounded again from behind.

  “Straight over the roundabout, Dev, ‘n keep goin’ ‘til we hit the town. Find a car park or summat and be quick.”

  “OK, boss,” came through the speaker.

  The tractor shot forward barrelling through more zombies that were coming towards them and Mamba swiftly followed. He looked in his rear-view mirror and saw that the convoys appeared to be following, bouncing over zombies as they went.

  As instructed, Dev didn’t bother going around the roundabout, he just drove the tractor straight over the top of the grass mound to the other side.

  “I didn’t mean it literally,” Mamba muttered under his breath, but followed the tractor anyway.

  He just hoped the rest of the vehicles could do the same without causing themselves too much damage.

  After a further hundred metres of Dev bulldozing his way along the road, they came to another roundabout and the radio crackled


  “There’s a sign for a supermarket, so it must have a car park. Do you want to go there? There’s also a McDonald’s next to it,” Dev said.

  Mamba looked at Ahmed and shook his head in amazement.

  “Can’t get the staff,” he muttered, before clicking the button on the walkie talkie. “Ya hungry or summat?” Mamba asked sarcastically.

  “No, but I thought….”

  “I don’t pay ya ta think,” Mamba interrupted.

  “You don’t pay me at…”

  “Does it look like the middle of town ta ya?” Mamba cut Dev off.

  “No,” Dev admitted after a brief pause.

  “Right. So, keep fuckin’ goin’.”

  The tractor pulled away again and Mamba followed.

  After another three hundred metres they came to yet another roundabout which Dev drove straight over and kept going. There was a large pub on the left and Mamba was sorely tempted to try it out but realised now was not the right moment to be pissing about wasting time when Heathrow were hot on their tails.

  Just over a kilometre later, it looked like they were close to the centre of town; there was what looked like a one-way system and the signposts dotted around directed traffic to various car parks, shopping centres and the River Avon, and the area was definitely changing from the industrial and retail parks they had already passed.

  “We wanna take a right here,” Ahmed said, alternately looking at the map in his lap and the road ahead.

  Mamba passed him the walkie talkie and told him to give directions to Dev.

  Ahmed directed Dev where he wanted to go while Mamba checked his rear-view again to make sure the rest of the convoy was still there. He could see five or six vehicles and assumed the others were hidden. There were abandoned cars everywhere and zombies floating between them, heading towards the noisy new arrivals. It seemed they were attracting a growing crowd of admirers, which wasn’t great when they were trying to keep a low profile.

  Ahmed took them along Avenue La Fleche then left onto Gladstone Road and over the river. Just the other side, they took another left and found themselves in a large car park with various small and large stores dotted around.

  8

  Day 25 – 10:45

  Corsham

  Pete led Jack, Issy, Bear and their teams through Box Tunnel towards the town. They had left Irish and his team at the M.O.D. site looking after the helicopters.

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe,” Pete remarked as he saw the soldiers spreading out with their weapons ready.

  “Are you sure?” Jack asked.

  “As sure as I can be seeing as I only came above ground yesterday. Apparently, the people in the town used the PM’s original TV broadcast warning to put roadblocks in place on all roads on the outskirts of the town, and even secondary barriers on most of the internal roads. Pretty good idea when you think about it. If one roadblock is breached for whatever reason, there’s another one and another one, giving them time to react.”

  “How far is it?” Issy asked.

  “Once we’re off the train tracks, not far. We should be there in ten minutes.”

  Issy felt like ten minutes was too long. She could feel Mamba slipping away before she’d even had the chance to track him down.

  “Will it be easy to find this Ernie?” Jack asked.

  “It should be,” Pete replied. “It’s a fairly small town and everyone seems to know everyone.”

  They trudged on and eventually came to the sloping track which would take them off the railway and up onto the roads.

  At the top of the track they turned right and walked a few hundred metres until they found themselves on Station Road. It curved around to the left and a little further on they passed a deserted sports ground on their right. At the end of the road they had to climb over one of the roadblocks and stood at a crossroads.

  There was a pub called the ‘Hunter’s Arms’ on their right and straight ahead appeared to be a small narrow street of shops.

  “Which way?” Jack asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Pete admitted. “Perhaps we should go to the main square? There’s bound to be more people around there.”

  “Lead the way,” Jack encouraged, and Pete crossed the road and headed down the High Street.

  “Don’t forget, we’re looking for this Ernie character,” Issy reminded him.

  They passed a few people as they walked down the High Street, the people looking surprised by the sight of a large group of armed men and quickly scurrying to the side of the road as if trying to blend in with the scenery.

  Pete took a left and as they passed a supermarket on their right, they found themselves in the main square.

  Issy looked around and indicated that the men should spread out. They didn’t know anything about this town except for what they had been told by Pete and the PM, but as far as she was concerned, there could still be people sympathetic to the dead Reverend and see the new arrivals as some sort of threat.

  There were plenty of people milling about, but once they saw the new arrivals, they quickly moved away and out of sight.

  Issy quickly walked into the square, looking around at the people before picking out two older women sitting on a nearby bench, who were chatting away, oblivious to the newcomers.

  Issy approached the women, who stopped their conversation and looked up in surprise, their eyes widening as they took in the pink haired woman with guns standing in front of them.

  “Hello ladies,” Issy began.

  “Er…hello,” said one of the women.

  “I was wondering if you could help me?”

  Neither woman replied but they both looked at Issy expectantly as if waiting for her to continue.

  “I’m looking for Ernie. Do you know who he is and where I can find him?”

  “Everyone knows Ernie,” one of the women said. “What’s he done now?”

  “Who wants to know?” the second asked.

  Issy looked between the two.

  “I’m Issy. I’m hoping Ernie can help me with a problem.”

  “What problem?” asked the first.

  “I need to find someone, and I think Ernie may be able to point me in the right direction.”

  “You’ve got to find Ernie first,” said the second woman.

  “Who are you trying to find?” asked the first.

  “I’m looking for a man called Mamba,” Issy explained.

  “You a friend of his?” the first woman asked, looking past Issy to the soldiers spreading out.

  “Not exactly,” Issy said. “He’s done a lot of bad things and I need to find him.”

  “He’s a good man,” the first woman said. “He got rid of the Reverend for us.”

  “But he did kill some people,” added the second. “Ernie said he was a bad boy, but I don’t think he meant it literally.”

  “So, where is Ernie?” Issy tried again.

  “He could be anywhere,” said the woman.

  “Any ideas?”

  “He could be at the sports ground or the school playing fields or the park,” said the first woman.

  “Yes, he likes to sit on a bench alone and watch the world go by,” said the second.

  “Or he could be at home,” added the first woman. “Have you tried him there?”

  “Where is his home?” Issy asked.

  “Have you just got here, girl? Everyone knows where Ernie lives.”

  “Well I don’t,” Issy confirmed, trying hard to keep the smile pasted on her face.

  “Up there on Paul Street,” the first woman said, pointing.

  “It’s the one with the gnome called Bert in the front garden,” said the second.

  “Which says ‘go away’,” the first woman added. She went on to explain what the gnome looked like, as if it was a real person with its own personality.

  “He’s a nice man,” said the second.

  “A very, very nice man,” said the first.

  Issy wasn’t sure if they were talking
about Ernie, the gnome or Mamba.

  “You’ll be telling me he used to work for the AA in a minute,” Issy said with a smile.

  Both women looked at her with frowns on their faces.

  “I’m sure he never worked for the AA,” the first woman said.

  “I thought he worked on the railway,” said the second.”

  “OK, well, thanks for your help, ladies,” Issy said, backing away. “Have a nice day.”

  As Issy walked back towards Jack, Bear and Pete she heard the first woman muttering ‘she’s got pink hair’.

  Issy asked Bear to organise a search of the local parks and grounds for an old guy called Ernie sitting on a bench. In the meantime, she would try and find his house.

  9

  Day 25 – 11:45

  Chippenham

  Dev parked the tractor while Mamba swung the Range Rover all the way around it, so it was pointing towards the exit, just in case they needed to make a quick escape. As the other cars and vans in the convoy were about to pass him, he wound down his window a crack and told the drivers to do the same thing and form a cordon. Then he closed the window and turned off the engine.

  Mamba looked out of his side window and saw that a supermarket was the first shop in the row. He lowered the back of his seat and clambered into the back of the car.

  “What ya doin’?” Ahmed asked.

  “Gettin’ me ‘Good Pub Guide’,” Mamba replied. He leant over the back seat into the boot space and retrieved his rucksack and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. He returned to the front seat and raised the book with a big grin on his face. Then he adjusted his seat to the usual position.

  After opening his book and checking out what was available, his smile broadened.

  “There’s a bar ‘bout a hundred metres away, overlookin’ the river,” he said. “Got four stars too, so it should be good.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ahmed agreed with a grin, “although I bet it ain’t four stars anymore.”

  The rest of the convoy had manoeuvred their vehicles so they could leave quickly but had formed a rough circle where the zombies couldn’t access. All they had to do was take out the ones which were already within the circle, about twenty in total. Child’s play.