Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  Mamba looked around and spotted some cows in the distance and shivered involuntarily. He’d have to remember to stay the fuck away from those bastards.

  Basir trotted up the riverbank towards Mamba.

  “Basir, when yer dirty, get some men up ta the road ‘n find some vehicles.”

  Mamba and Ahmed finished their latest beers, threw the empty bottles into the river, then stood up and climbed over the side onto solid ground. They wandered over and got themselves dirty then followed on behind Basir up the embankment and onto the motorway, looking forward to seeing what was going on.

  “How d’ya reckon Heathrow know we went ta that town?” Ahmed asked. “We coulda gone anywhere.”

  “It don’t take no genius ta figure that out. They musta found our artwork at the farm ‘n they already know we must be headin’ back ta London.”

  “S’pose so,” Ahmed agreed. “But then if we go on the M4 they might find us again.”

  “True,” Mamba agreed, thinking to himself. “Where’s that map?”

  “On the boat.”

  “Ain’t much fuckin’ use there, bro. Go fetch it.”

  Ahmed raised his eyes to the sky but turned and headed back to the boat. He was back a few minutes later with the map flapping in the breeze. Mamba took it and opened it out on the floor, studying the surrounding area and the connecting roads.

  “There!” he said, pointing at Swindon. “That’s a big place ‘n they won’t bother tryin’ ta find us there. Might find some totty at the same time,” he added with a sly grin.

  “We betta move quick in case they decide to check this route out,” Ahmed suggested.

  “It’s only ‘bout eight kilometres. I could walk it in an hour,” Mamba replied, as Basir came running towards him.

  “Boss! We found a couple of Range Rovers and got rid of the passengers,” he said excitedly.

  “Good job, Basir…wait a minute!” Mamba said as he stared across the carriageway.

  “What?” Ahmed asked, trying to work out what Mamba was looking at.

  Mamba pointed towards an articulated truck sitting on the Eastbound carriageway, one with some sort of logistics company logo along the side.

  “Yer jokin’, right?” Ahmed asked.

  “Nah, man. Might be summat useful in there. It will hold everyone ‘n all the gear ‘n it’ll smash everythin’ outta the way. Get the men, Basir!”

  They crossed the carriageway, taking out any zombies that strayed too close, then climbed over the central reservation and headed to the back of the truck. It was locked, so Mamba pulled out his pistol and shot the lock off then grabbed the thick metal handle, turned it, swung open the large, heavy door and stood back to look inside.

  “Did ya hear somethin’?” Ahmed asked.

  “Nah, man,” Mamba replied as he stared up at large boxes and crates of canned food and drinks.

  However, the smell was unlike anything they’d smelt before.

  “Fuck me,” Ahmed whispered after a few moments.

  “Let’s get this shit off ‘n keep anythin’ useful,” Mamba ordered, stepping back to allow his men access. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter and lit up, offering the pack and lighter to Ahmed.

  “Got me own,” Ahmed said, rummaging in his pockets.

  Mamba then went and sat on the bonnet of a nearby car where he could watch what was happening.

  Basir pulled out a jar of menthol and began spreading it liberally all over his face. He’d gotten used to the smell of zombies and getting dirty, but this was a whole new level of smell. When he finished, he passed the jar to Dev and climbed up into the truck.

  Mamba watched as his men climbed up and started slashing the packaging and passing over goods to those on the road, who then put everything in neat piles of similar items.

  Within fifteen minutes, the back of the truck was empty, and those inside the trailer jumped down. Mamba strolled across to the doors and saw that it had been cleared, but something didn’t seem right. There was still that godawful smell and there was an assortment of litter and empty packaging strewn all over the front end of the trailer.

  “Fuckin’ big rats ta make that mess,” Mamba noted.

  Ahmed stared into the trailer with a frown on his face.

  “Rats can’t do that. Summat ain’t right,” Ahmed replied.

  “It’s the fuckin’ apocalypse. ‘Course it ain’t right.”

  “Nah, man,” Ahmed said, scanning the back of the trailer carefully. “Summat ain’t right.”

  Ahmed stepped back and went to the side of the truck, looking down its length. Then he came back and stared inside the trailer once more.

  “What’s the problem bro?” Mamba asked, beginning to look a bit concerned.

  Ahmed ignored him and climbed up into the trailer, withdrawing his pistol as he moved forward. He stopped near the far end and listened, scanning the rubbish on the floor. Without warning he stepped forward and slammed the butt of his gun against the metal with a resounding crash and immediately heard some screams and whimpers.

  Mamba was beside Ahmed within seconds, his pistol out in front of him and looking from side to side with confusion.

  “What the fuck’s goin’ on?” he asked.

  “Illegals,” Ahmed replied.

  “Drugs? Fuckin’ great,” Mamba said, with a smile.

  “Not fuckin’ drugs,” Ahmed hissed. “When was the last time ya heard drugs scream or make this sort of mess?”

  Mamba thought about it, looking around some more until it suddenly all become clear.

  “Where the fuck’re they hidin’?”

  “Duh! Behind this fuckin’ wall of course.”

  “Well, get the fucker open.”

  Ahmed looked at Mamba as if he was stupid, then turned back to the wall and started searching for any joint or break in the metal. It didn’t take long once he knew what he was looking for and he quickly homed in on a small section of the wall. He tapped the panel a few times and ordered the people to come out. He then stepped back with his gun ready, pulling Mamba back with him.

  There was no sound or movement, so Ahmed raised his pistol and put a round through the roof of the trailer. This time, he shouted for the people to come out or he would start shooting at them.

  There was a few seconds of silence then a shuffling sound followed by a scrape of metal on metal. The panel swung inwards and a woman’s head appeared in the gap, blinking wildly against the sudden gloomy light.

  17

  Day 25 – 15:00

  River Avon

  “Come out slowly wiv yer hands up,” Ahmed ordered, levelling his gun at the woman.

  She crawled through the gap and struggled to her feet as a second woman emerged then a third and a fourth, all of them lining up and shielding their eyes against the light. Then came a fifth and a sixth until there were a dozen women standing there in filthy clothing, looking skinny, dirty, and smelling to high heaven.

  Mamba wandered forwards a few steps, lowering his pistol, and it was only when he was a metre away that he realised that these were all young women.

  “Christmas has come early,” Mamba stated, starting to laugh. “What’s yer name?” he asked the nearest girl.

  There was no response and the girl continued to stare at the floor.

  “I said, ‘what’s yer name’,” Mamba said more loudly.

  “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t speak much English,” came a voice from further along the line.

  Mamba homed in on the voice.

  “What’s yer name then?” he asked.

  “Irina,” the girl replied.

  “Where ya from, girl?” Mamba asked, wondering about her funny accept.

  “Estonia,” she replied.

  “What are ya doin’ back here?”

  “We were being taken to work in London. Are you the men who have come to pick us up? It’s taken long enough. Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?”

  Mamba ignored her questions a
nd thought through the answers she had given. He had a pretty good idea what was going on.

  “How old are ya?”

  “Twenty-One.”

  “How long ya bin in here?”

  “I don’t know, but weeks.”

  “How did ya survive?”

  Irina looked around the trailer as if surprised to see it was empty, other than the discarded food wrappers, empty water bottles and other rubbish. Then she spotted more men at the doors and frowned, confused.

  “We ran out of our food but there was plenty of food and water in here…and we slept and did our other stuff in there,” she replied, pointing back towards the gap in the wall. “There’s some small holes in the roof for air and a hole in the floor for…,” she stopped. “Who are you? Are you soldiers? You look like soldiers. Why are you covered in blood?”

  “I’m Mamba, ‘n this is Ahmed.”

  Mamba turned to look towards the rear doors.

  “Basir! Get some men ta take ‘em down ta the river ta get washed up. Then get some men ta clear the rest of this shit out,” Mamba ordered.

  Mamba turned back to Irina.

  “Go wiv me men. They’ll look after ya.”

  Irina looked distrustfully at Mamba but realised that she had little choice. It had been halfway through their journey when she’d finally accepted that she wasn’t being smuggled to London for some modelling job. When their passports had been taken, it was obvious they had become prisoners, so she had nothing to lose in doing as she was told and seeing where this led. She spoke rapidly in her own language, the other girls showing some sign of life as they turned to look at her. Many were clearly frightened, but following some sterner words from Irina, they appeared to agree to do as they were told.

  Basir signalled to Irina that she should follow him and after a few more foreign words, the women did as they were told, with Mamba and Ahmed studying them carefully as they passed. As the last woman passed, Mamba and Ahmed followed.

  Mamba almost bumped into the last woman as they stopped near the end of the trailer. Then they started screaming and Mamba covered his ears as the women turned towards him en masse and nearly knocked him over in their rush to get back into their makeshift home at the front of the trailer.

  “What the fuck?” Ahmed asked in surprise.

  Mamba was no less surprised and looked out of the back of the trailer to see what had caused the stampede. Surely his men weren’t that scary? Then he spotted numerous zombies heading in their direction, responding to the screams.

  “Get in here or on the vehicles!” he shouted at his men.

  Most of them had been watching what was going on with the women, but quickly turned and took in the scene. Mamba and Ahmed helped pull several of them into the back of the trailer as others quickly climbed onto cars, vans, and lorries.

  “We wastin’ time,” Ahmed remarked. “We don’t need this shit.”

  Mamba grimaced, knowing that Ahmed was right, but there was nothing he could do about it now except sort it out.

  “Use knives where ya can or the MP5’s,” Mamba ordered as the first of the zombies arrived at the back of the trailer. He withdrew his knives and started stabbing at the heads bobbing and gnashing below him.

  The rest of the men quickly followed suit and Mamba heard ‘pfft’ sounds coming from nearby. The screams had attracted at least a hundred zombies, probably more, but the fight quickly turned into a massacre with zombies falling all over the place.

  Once the last of the closest zombies had been taken down, Mamba replaced his knives.

  “Form a cordon!” he ordered, and the men in the back of the trailer started jumping down to secure the area. “Basir, get back here!”

  Basir climbed down from a nearby van and trotted to the back of the trailer.

  Mamba turned and went back to the panel, which was now closed and wouldn’t move when he pressed against it.

  “Ya can come out now,” he said.

  There was no response, but he thought he could hear whimpering.

  “Get out now!” he screamed.

  “We’re scared,” came Irina’s voice, slightly muffled by the metal.

  “It’s sorted. Ain’t nothin’ ta be scared ’bout now,” Mamba replied.

  “’Cept us,” Ahmed murmured under his breath.

  Mamba glared at him for a second then turned his attention back to the panel.

  “Come on, we ain’t got all day.”

  “No,” came the response.

  Mamba thought about blowing the panel away but decided it could wait until later, if necessary. He turned and went to the back of the trailer.

  “Basir, get the men ta load anythin’ useful ‘n get ‘emselves up in here. We gotta go.”

  “Why the lorry?” Basir asked. “There’s a coach down there,” he added, pointing down the row of vehicles. “Far better. More comfortable.”

  “No time, so jus’ do as yer fuckin’ tol’,” Mamba snapped.

  Mamba and Ahmed jumped down and headed towards the cab as Basir started giving orders. There was a zombie inside the cab, so Mamba withdrew his knife and opened the door wide, expecting the zombie to tumble to the floor where he could stab it. However, the zombie was restrained by a seatbelt, so as it leant down with its teeth gnashing, Mamba carefully climbed up one step and stabbed it in the head. He then undid the belt and let the zombie fall to the floor with a thud.

  Mamba climbed into the driver’s seat and started the truck, the diesel engine rumbling a bit like the boats they had just been on. He eyed the side mirror and could see his men passing goods along a long line from below the embankment and storing them in the trailer, together with some of the better stuff that had originally been on the truck. The rest of the other men were standing guard, taking out any stray zombie that wandered too close.

  The passenger door opened, and Ahmed climbed up, lighting another cigarette, and offering the packet to Mamba.

  They sat there, staring at the rows of traffic in front of them, enjoying the buzz from the cigarette and allowing the smoke to curl lazily from their nostrils.

  “Man, we ain’t gonna get through all this traffic ‘n we can’t push all these vehicles even wiv this fuckin’ monster,” Ahmed pointed out.

  Mamba smiled and pointed over to the left.

  Ahmed looked and saw that the hard shoulder was mostly empty as far as the eye could see.

  “Sheep!” Ahmed commented with a laugh.

  “Yeah, man. Good little sheep keepin’ off the hard shoulder,” Mamba agreed as he took a pull on his cigarette.

  18

  Day 25 – 15:00

  Chippenham

  The first Chinook landed in a field on the outskirts and to the South of Chippenham.

  The other two helicopters would be landing somewhere to the North East and North West, close to main roads in case Mamba tried to escape.

  The ramp was lowered and Issy’s team emerged, spreading out and checking for any stray zombies. Issy followed on behind with Jack and watched as one of her team took out two zombies heading in their direction.

  “Are you sure about this?” Jack asked.

  “I can’t wait,” Issy replied, heading towards the dead zombies. “Time to get dirty.”

  Jack watched as Issy approached the bodies, withdrawing her knife as she went. When she reached them, she bent down and sliced them straight down the middle, entrails spilling out on either side. She replaced her knife and grabbed handfuls of guts and started rubbing the gunk on her clothing. When she had finished, she called on her men to do the same thing and turned to Jack, a stray droplet of blood running down her cheek.

  Jack had seen this several times, but he still couldn’t get used to it. This would be the first time he’d got dirty, and to be honest he really wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Issy smiled, reading his mind.

  “You can change your mind and stay here,” she offered.

  “No, I’m coming,” Jack replied, and taking a deep breath
, moved towards her.

  “As a newbie, you’d better help yourself to this,” Issy suggested, pulling out a jar of menthol gel.

  Jack accepted it gratefully and smeared some under his nose before handing it back.

  “Oh, joy!” Jack muttered as he advanced on the body.

  “Could be worse,” Issy pointed out.

  Jack looked at her. At this exact moment, he was struggling to think of anything worse. He plucked up his courage, and gritting his teeth, approached the body, bent down, and started covering himself with guts. Once he had finished, he stood back up and retraced his steps back to Issy.

  “Wasn’t that hard,” Issy opined.

  “At least I wasn’t sick in front of the men,” Jack replied in a whisper, “but it was close!”

  “Let’s move out,” Issy shouted, and the nine men she had selected for the mission moved towards her.

  As they headed across the field towards the town, the rest of the team set up a base camp with sentries keeping guard along the perimeter.

  19

  Day 25 – 15:30

  M4 Motorway

  Mamba shunted a few cars out of the way as he drove onto the hard shoulder, the trailer crunching against other vehicles as it followed.

  There hadn’t been enough room in the trailer for all the men once their gear and all the new stuff they’d found had been re-packed. So, Basir and Dev took the remaining men and helped themselves to the Range Rovers they had found earlier.

  The going was relatively easy, and Mamba quietly thanked all those law-abiding citizens who had stuck to the rules of the road even in a time of catastrophe and panic. There were a few abandoned vehicles and a few crashes which had rebounded onto the hard shoulder, but they were no match for the huge forty-odd tonnes of Scania. Neither were the small number of zombies who wandered into their path.

  “How many zombies ya think we killed already?” Mamba asked as he barrelled into another small group and had to switch on the wipers and spray to clear the resulting gore from the windscreen.