by Hatchett
“Billions,” Ahmed shouted out, earning a piercing glare from Mamba.
It was clearly Mamba’s show, and he wanted to be the centre of attention. Everyone was staring and listening to him with rapt attention, bottles of beer now resting on the crates. Even the two women tied up had stopped struggling against their restraints.
“So how come we aren’t all zombies?” Irina called out.
Mamba paused, thinking how to explain it to someone who hadn’t experienced what they had been through.
“’Cos we ain’t bin bitten or killed,” he replied. “One bite ‘n ya turn inta one of these. If ya killed, ya wake up as one of these. All they do is eat us, nothin’ else. The only way ta kill ‘em is ta smash their heads in.”
“How did it happen?” Irina asked.
“Dunno. Don’t care. It is what it is. Survival of the fittest.”
“So, what is this all about?” Irina asked, sweeping her arm in the direction of the circle.
Mamba smiled.
“Education.”
As Irina translated for the benefit of the other women near her who didn’t speak very good English, Mamba walked towards the zombie tied to the pillar then slowly walked in a circle around it, leaving enough distance so that the zombie couldn’t reach him. The zombie shuffled along in time to Mamba’s movements, snapping its jaws in increasing ferocity and grasping with its arms, looking like some kind of macabre new dance.
Mamba returned to his original position.
“They ain’t clever ‘n ain’t very quick, but they won’t stop, ‘n if there’s a horde…well, yer in deep shit unless ya can find a safe place ta hide.”
“I still don’t see what this has got to do with the two girls,” Irina pointed out.
“If we’d let ‘em out, they’d be zombies by now.”
“You don’t know that,” Irina disagreed.
“Well, let’s find out. If they still unhurt ‘n alive in a few minutes, they can walk outta here.”
Mamba nodded to Faruk and Ismet.
Faruk went across to the two women as the room fell silent, save for the grunting and snapping of the zombie’s teeth. The women warily watched Faruk approach. Using his knife, he undid their restraints and removed their gags. He then offered each of them a wickedly sharp Bowie knife. They looked at him, half expecting it to be some sort of ruse, but they eventually took the proffered weapons. Faruk backed away and re-joined Ismet as Mamba climbed over the boxes and out of the circle next to Irina, Hana, Ahmed, and Marika. He was offered a bottle of beer and this time took it with a grateful smile and took a long drink.
One of the women in the circle was shouting in a foreign language and Irina shouted back.
“What was that ‘bout?” Mamba asked.
“She was just asking if she could still stay and what would happen if she did. So, I told her.”
“What did ya tell her?”
“That you’re a bastard and although I’m sore, at least I’m still alive.”
“’N don’t ya forget it,” Mamba replied, reaching up to grope her right breast.
He quickly let go and turned to watch what was happening inside the circle. The two women were talking, checking over their knives and casting surreptitious glances across to the zombie who was currently more interested in Faruk and Ismet.
Suddenly, one of the women turned and ran for a gap in the circle and tried to climb over the boxes. A couple of Mamba’s men quickly closed the gap and roughly pushed the woman back into the circle, being careful to avoid the Bowie knife the woman had forgotten about in her haste to escape. The woman landed on her backside and quickly scrambled back to her feet and looked around the circle for another way out.
“Ya betta tell her ta get ready instead of tryin’ ta escape. Ain’t gonna happen.”
Irina quickly translated.
The woman seemed to shrink in resignation and walked slowly back to the other woman, who was studying the knife in her hand with fascination.
Mamba nodded to Faruk, and as he got the zombie’s attention, Ismet moved in from behind it and released its restraints. Faruk then ran and jumped out of the circle as Ismet ran in the opposite direction. Both men quickly turned to watch.
The zombie followed Faruk’s path but was impeded from going any further by the large, heavy boxes. It grasped in vain across the tops of the boxes, trying to reach Faruk and the other men beside him.
“Duck down!” Mamba shouted.
Faruk and the men beside him looked over confused, but saw Mamba signalling that they should get down, so they did as they were told. Mamba signalled to one of his men on the other side of the circle to shout and the new noise attracted the zombie’s attention. It turned and started heading towards the noise.
“This should be fun,” Mamba said, pulling Irina and Hana against him.
“How can this be fun?” Irina asked, with a horrified look on her face.
“We gonna see what these girls are made of. Fight or flight. The oldest ‘n most important instinct.”
Mamba was right. As the zombie headed towards the two women, one raised her knife towards the monster and crouched down ready to fight while the other one screamed and ran to the edge of the circle. The zombie headed for the sound of the scream, ignoring the woman with the knife.
The first woman, an Estonian like Irina, tried to climb out of the circle again, but was roughly pushed back by Mamba’s men. This time she dropped her knife when she landed, and it skittered away across the polished concrete floor. She screamed again, panic written all over her face and eventually swivelled back to face the zombie which was now almost upon her.
The second woman, a Slovak, had been surprised to see the zombie change course and move off after the other woman. She breathed a sigh of relief and subconsciously realised that the monster was attracted by sound and locked it away for future reference. She crept after the zombie and, summoning up her courage, rushed a couple of paces and plunged her knife in the zombie’s back.
The zombie fell forward, pulling the Slovak woman down on top of it. It landed with a thump on the floor, its head bouncing on impact, the nose shattering and several teeth flying out of its mouth. The Slovak woman quickly pulled out her knife with a sucking sound and plunged it down again and again. Then she pulled it out for a final time and got up back to her feet and inched away.
The Estonian woman had been screaming with her hands held up in front of her to ward off the zombie when it had suddenly fallen forward and smashed into the floor at her feet. She scrambled to her feet and quickly shuffled backwards, her progress stopped as her backside hit one of the boxes and she was bounced forwards onto her knees. She watched in fascination as the Slovak frantically stabbed the zombie in the back a few times before jumping off and moving away. She was about to laugh hysterically with relief until the zombie raised its head and stared directly at her.
She went to scoot backwards, pushing her legs out from under her body to get better purchase, then screamed as she felt a claw-like hand grasp her ankle.
She automatically started kicking out at the hand with her free leg, hearing finger bones snap as she connected. The grip loosened and the zombie eventually let go, its other arm whipping across to try and regain its hold.
The Estonian scooted back out of reach until her back was up against the boxes and she watched as the zombie started crawling towards her. She looked to move around the circle to get away, but the zombie matched her every move. She frantically searched for her knife, but it was nowhere to be seen. She shouted for help, but no one was going to come to her rescue. She knew she was out of options and felt nothing but despair, knowing there was no escape and there was nothing she could do to prevent what was about to happen. Her thoughts started to wander as her brain automatically attempted to shield her from the worst. ‘So, this was what insanity felt like’, was her final coherent thought before her eyes glazed over.
As the zombie closed in, the woman’s body seemed to shrink as h
er remaining spirit deserted her. The zombie was on her in seconds and started tearing into her flesh. She didn’t even react.
The Slovak watched all this, rooted to the spot a few metres away, her Bowie knife still held out in front of her, the odd drop of blood falling from its blade onto the floor. She had considered moving back in to help the other woman, but she simply couldn’t get her legs to move. She continued watching as if in a trance as the other woman managed to break the zombie’s grip on her ankle and pushed backwards, only to find herself cornered. The Estonian shouted for help, but the Slovak was too mesmerised by what was happening in front of her to react. She continued watching as the Estonian simply gave up and shut down. She watched as the zombie closed in and started eating the woman’s leg. She vaguely heard a combination of cheers and gasps of horror in the background from all the spectators outside the circle. It was like gladiators fighting in the Roman colosseum, with the odds against them. No matter what they did, they would die eventually. And she would be next unless she did something. It wasn’t fair and it made her mad. Furious.
She screamed some abuse in her own language, attracting the zombie’s attention. She screamed some more, and the zombie slowly got back to its feet and turned to face her. For a fleeting second, she wished she’d stayed silent, and felt her resolve begin to wilt at the sight of the apparition in front of her, but then the adrenaline and anger flooded back into her system. She would not be a victim. She held her knife more firmly as the zombie took its first tentative step towards her.
Someone outside the circle shouted ‘head’ and her eyes darted sideways to see where it had come from. She recognised the black man with Irina and frowned, wondering what they were trying to tell her. Irina then shouted ‘hlava’ and she finally understood. She had to stab the head, something she’d heard earlier, but not really understood at the time. With newfound optimism and determination, she faced the advancing zombie.
“You should get the injured woman out and help her,” Irina pleaded with Mamba.
“Too late,” Mamba replied. “She already dead.”
Irina was surprised and looked to where the woman was still sitting. There was no movement and she did look like she was dead, but Irina could still see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Irina’s gaze flicked to the widening pool of blood under the woman’s leg and wondered how she wasn’t screaming in agony. With a puzzled frown on her face, Irina turned back to Mamba.
“No, she isn’t.”
“Yes, she is. She’s bin bit. Ain’t no cure.”
“Then put her out of her misery.”
“Nah. Ya gotta see her change or ya won’t believe.”
Irina looked back to see the Slovak woman circling the zombie. She noticed that the zombie never sped up or slowed down, just followed its target and didn’t seem to get out of breath. Did it even breathe? The stabs it had taken to its back seemed to have made no difference at all, just as Mamba had said. She continued watching as the Slovak woman lunged and sliced off three of the zombie’s fingers. The woman smiled at her small success and slashed again, cutting deep into the zombie’s arm. Another small smile, but the zombie didn’t react and was unperturbed. It kept coming, hunting the woman down just like the robot in that Terminator film.
“All the time she pissin’ ‘bout, she losin’ energy,” Mamba remarked. “Gotta get the job done ‘n move on.”
Irina shouted out to the Slovak woman, who briefly glanced her way and nodded with new resolve.
Irina watched as the woman moved back to one of the pillars at the centre of the circle and enticed the zombie on while circling the pillar. When she was ready, she suddenly moved more quickly, bringing her knife around in a wide arc and plunged it into the back of the zombie’s head. The zombie crashed face down onto the floor and lay still, the knife still sticking out of its head. The Slovak woman smiled brightly and cautiously approached the zombie. Placing her foot on the zombie’s back, she leant forward and pulled out the knife.
Mamba’s men were whooping, hollering, and cheering and the woman’s smile widened. She mock bowed then stood there, wondering what would happen next.
Faruk and Ismet jumped into the circle and quickly approached the Slovak. Faruk held out his hand and the woman carefully handed over the knife as Ismet retrieved the other knife off the floor.
Faruk indicated that the Slovak should go to Mamba then he and Ismet went over to the first woman and carried her towards one of the pillars and tied her up. She was a deadweight and didn’t put up any fight.
The Slovak approached Mamba with the cheers still ringing all around her, her smile faltering the nearer she got to him.
Mamba returned the smile. The woman had shown some bravery and wasn’t afraid to use the knife. Maybe she’d survive after all.
“Tell her well done,” Mamba said to Irina
“She can speak English,” Irina replied.
One of the men offered the Slovak a bottle of beer which she gratefully accepted with a smile and took a long drink before turning to Mamba.
“What happens now?”
“Same choice, stay or go,” Mamba replied. “At least ya now know what ya’d be up against out there.”
“I’ll stay. My chances of surviving are probably better with you.”
“Smart girl. As long as ya know ya have ta do whatever I say,” Mamba replied, “’n I mean whatever.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then ya can stay.”
Mamba turned to look at the gathered crowd.
“Party time!” Mamba shouted and a large roar went up.
More drinks were handed out and someone on the far side of the circle put on some music.
“As long as the fuckers don’t play ‘Men at Work’,” Mamba muttered to a smiling Ahmed.
“What?” Irina asked.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Mamba replied, gazing at his men. Half a dozen were already swarming all over the Slovak woman like bees around a honey pot and she seemed to be loving all the attention.
Faruk and Ismet came over and Mamba detached himself from Irina and Hana.
Faruk: “Can we…”
Ismet: “Do the woman?”
They were staring back at the injured woman on the support pillar.
“Not this time, boys. I need her ta turn ta prove a point. No more killin’ tonight, but ya can have a coupla women ta play wiv if ya want.
Faruk: “Nah.”
Ismet: “Not interested”
“So, what do ya wanna do?” Mamba asked.
Faruk: “We’ll have a look around…
Ismet: “Outside.”
Faruk: “And we’ll keep guard…
Ismet: “Overnight.”
“Want me ta organise someone ta take over later?”
They both shook their heads.
“OK. Enjoy,” Mamba said with a smile and watched as the two walked off. He shook his head, wondering what the hell the pair might get up to, before returning to Ahmed and the women.
Dev sauntered over with one of the other girls and offered Mamba and Ahmed a spliff each, which they gratefully accepted.
“Where did ya get these from?” Mamba asked, lighting up and taking a long toke.
Dev laughed and touched his nose, before leading the giggling girl away.
Mamba could see this turning into a real wild night as he passed the spliff to Irina and blew smoke into Hana’s open mouth. Party time indeed!
27
Day 25 – 18:00
Heathrow
The three Chinooks coasted into the airport a few metres above ground level, the downwash from the rotors easily knocking zombies over and creating a writhing stream of bodies in their wake.
As the Chinooks settled into their landing pattern and lowered onto the apron at their usual spot near the jetways for Terminal 3, the Apache’s continued to circle the perimeter, searching inwards for any suggestion of a trap. They spotted hordes of zombies streaming towards the perimeter br
eaches, attracted by the fires, explosions and screams still echoing from the airport. They tried to give their colleagues more time by slowing the horde, shooting their remaining Hellfire missiles and spraying the zombies with over a thousand 30mm rounds from the chain guns mounted on the underside of the aircraft before they ran out of ammunition.
The Chinooks landed, the ramp at the back already lowering in anticipation. As soon as it touched down, the three teams emerged, spreading out and engaging the zombies in the immediate area. As multiple ‘pffts’ sounded all around, Jack and Issy walked halfway down the ramp and paused, surveying the area from their slightly elevated position. It was immediately clear the airport has sustained a heavy and damaging attack. Smoke and flames were spouting into the air from Terminal 3, from some of the storage buildings and warehouses, and from the direction of Terminal 4 and the hotels. The only area which looked relatively unscathed was Terminal 5, some distance away.
A zombie breached the line of soldiers and headed towards Jack and Issy. They watched it come, recognising the unmistakably overweight figure of Sir James Curtis-Smyth. They realised that he could only have turned recently judging by his relatively clean clothes and unblemished skin. It was only the spread of blood across his chest which indicated how he’d died. Sir James came close, sniffing the air and gnashing his teeth, before seeming to lose interest and turn away. Issy removed her knife and plunged it into the back of his head, anger building.
“Couldn’t stand that pompous prat,” Issy muttered, “but who the fuck managed to do this and how?”
“I think that’s obvious,” Jack said, pointing towards the metal panels on the bottom of the jetways.
Issy followed Jack’s direction and immediately saw what he was referring to.
In red paint from a spray can, a brick wall had been drawn with a bald-headed character with a long nose hanging over the top and a speech balloon saying ‘Wot no soldiers? Ha, Ha, Ha’.
Issy recognised the character; in the UK he was known as Chad, the Americans called him Kilroy and the Australians referred to him as Foo. But no one really knew where he originated.
