Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  “OK, slight change of plan. Sean, while Travis looks for weapons here, you take one of the Chinooks and a team to see what weapons you can find at these sites.”

  “No problem.”

  “Right, let’s get going,” Jack said as he rose from his seat.

  “Can I have a word?” Sarah asked, as all the others except Gina stood and wandered off to carry out their roles.

  “What is it?” Jack asked, when it was just the three of them left.

  “Gina and I were wondering whether we should forget Heathrow and move elsewhere.”

  “We have what we need here,” Jack said, with a stubborn look on his face.

  “We did,” Gina replied. “With the Command Centre gone, Medical gone, electricity down, no CCTV, no satellite link and so on, we’re now vulnerable. Mamba knows where we are and we’re like sitting ducks. He can hit us at any time from any direction and I’m not sure if we’d be able to fight him off anymore.”

  “We can rebuild all of that,” Jack said.

  “I doubt it without the right skills,” Sarah said. “And even if we could, it would take years to get anywhere near where we were.”

  Jack knew they were right but was struggling to admit defeat.

  “But we have the fuel we need here, we have space to grow food, it won’t take much to get the electricity working again…”

  “And we’ll still be sitting ducks,” Gina reiterated.

  Jack nodded, accepting that what she was saying was true.

  “Maybe we should take the fight to him, rather than waiting for him to come to us. Waiting clearly hasn’t worked.”

  “Like you just did going to Corsham?” Sarah pointed out. “That didn’t work out very well from what I’ve heard.”

  “Good point. We’re not exactly on his wavelength, are we?”

  “I don’t think anyone’s on his wavelength,” Gina opined, “except his sidekick.”

  Jack nodded again.

  “Let me think it through,” he said, “and let’s get some work done in the meantime.”

  29

  Day 26 – 08:00

  Swindon

  Mamba awoke to find himself lying in some kind of tent with weak, diffused light sneaking through the thin material of the sides. He quickly scanned around and saw to his delight a naked Irina on his left and a naked Hana on his right. It must’ve been a good night; he just wished he could remember it.

  He saw that Hana had several tattoos, which he liked and intended to study in a lot more detail later. She also had a couple of intriguing piercings which got him well excited. On the other hand, Irina was completely unblemished, her skin soft and supple.

  Seeing Hana and her tattoos reminded Mamba of some bird he’d pulled in a pub a few years earlier, Sadie or Sandy or something like that. Or maybe she’d pulled him, he couldn’t really remember and didn’t care. She’d dragged him off to some smelly shithole of a flat where your feet stuck to the carpet and you had to dodge the overflowing ashtrays.

  The next thing he knew she was naked on a bed, on all fours with her naked arse in the air pointing invitingly towards him. He didn’t need any second invitation and scrambled to get undressed, stumbling a couple of times as he tried to pull his jeans over his feet. Then, as he tried to line himself up without falling over again, he spotted a tramp-stamp at the base of her spine. It appeared to be a couple of words in elegant script with an elaborate arrow pointing downwards, but he was a bit pissed and struggling to focus. After squinting and straining his eyes for a few seconds, he managed to read ‘Insert Here’.

  Mamba smiled at the recollection. Unbelievable! So, he had obliged, pushing the woman’s head into a pillow to stop her screams, and then forced himself in where it was least expected. At the time, and for some unknown reason, he’d thought about the old bible story ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’. More like ‘sod ’em ‘n gone tomorra’ and he’d almost laughed out loud. Anyway, it would teach the bitch to be more specific with her instructions. He couldn’t remember much more.

  It was the following day when he was telling Ahmed about his score that he was brought down to earth. Ahmed, laughing his head off, had taken great delight in telling him that the woman was a well-known local bike who had various kids through various men and was probably carrying an untold number of diseases. Mamba was shocked that he’d never come across her before, both figuratively and literally, and thanked his lucky stars he’d decided to go after the brown rather than the pink; kids were the last thing he needed! However, the knowledge hadn’t stopped him from scratching his groin for the next few days, prompting almost continuous jibes from Ahmed. Needless to say, he never went back for seconds.

  Mamba sat up and looked around some more and saw that the tent was actually quite small, with the roof only a few inches above the top of his head. The concrete floor of the warehouse was covered in thin, spongy camping mattresses and sleeping bags. All their clothes were scattered all over the place.

  Mamba looked down again, and with a sly smile, started tracing Hana’s right nipple with his right index finger and did the same to Irina with his left. Neither woman moved.

  Mamba lay back again, staring at the roof of the tent, and thought back to the previous night, but he couldn’t remember much after the zombie show so it must’ve been wild.

  A zip at the far end of the tent moved up and Ahmed stuck his head through the gap, a wide smile on his face.

  “Don’t ya ever fuckin’ knock?” Mamba asked, leaning forward, and balancing himself on his elbows. “I take it ya got a shag then, judgin’ by yer ugly boat.”

  “Time ya got up, bro,” Ahmed replied, sounding far too smug and lively.

  “Done that,” Mamba said with a leer, thrusting his hips forward for emphasis. “A few times…I think.”

  Ahmed laughed.

  “I think everyone got some. Helped that everyone was well wasted,” Ahmed said. “Have ta find out where Dev got that gear. It was some good shit.”

  “Yeah, mebbe we should stay here ‘n grow shitloads ‘n jus’ party ‘til we die.”

  “Sounds good ta me,” Ahmed agreed wistfully. “Don’t forget, we got us another zombie in the ring.”

  “Oh fuck, yeah. Forgot ‘bout that. We need all the girls ta see it, so get ‘em all up.”

  “Gotta find ‘em first,” Ahmed replied, wiggling his eyebrows and then he was gone.

  Mamba elbowed his women in turn.

  “Come on, get up,” he ordered, then flipped over and around and crawled forward, searching for his clothes.

  He felt a hand on his inner thigh, moving slowly upwards to cup his testicles. He looked back to see Hana with a mischievous grin on her face. Then he felt a second hand and realised that Irina was also awake.

  “I guess we got a few more minutes,” Mamba said, as he settled back down between them.

  Fifteen minutes later, Mamba and his girls emerged from their tent to the smell of food being cooked on gas stoves somewhere nearby. Mamba looked around and saw that his tent was close to the stairs which led up to his office. He had no idea how he knew this was his tent or how he had found it, but it wasn’t important. He headed towards the smell of food with the girls chatting and laughing together as they followed. Hana didn’t speak much English, so they were speaking in some foreign language at what seemed like a million words a second. It was only when Mamba was part of any discussion that Irina had to do the translating, not that he remembered much translating being required the previous evening.

  As they closed in on the ring near the centre of the building, the smells grew stronger and Mamba picked up the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He quickened his pace, and when he finally turned the last corner, he found everyone laughing and joking and filling their faces. Christ, it must’ve been a good night. He made a beeline for a coffee, and once he had a large mug in his hand, sauntered over to the food, grabbing himself something that looked suspiciously like a hash brown.

  Taking a first bite and confirming his
initial suspicion, he looked around the smiling faces until his gaze fell upon one of the women who was sporting a split lip and numerous bruises all over her face. He saw Dev and beckoned him over.

  “What the fuck happened ta her?” Mamba asked around a mouthful of hash brown and nodded in the woman’s direction.

  “She didn’t want to put out last night and some of the guys weren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

  Mamba wasn’t surprised that the woman’s reluctance had led to a bit of kicking; after all, most of these men had been wound up like coiled springs for weeks and were looking for a bit of release in the relative safety of the warehouse. Adding women into any mix was sure to cause some trouble, especially in the current climate. He shrugged. He’d have given the bitch a slap as well.

  “Irina!” Mamba called out, as Irina was grabbing herself some food.

  Irina sauntered over with a questioning look on her face and Mamba pointed to the injured woman.

  “Ya betta sort her out ‘n remind her of the agreement,” Mamba said.

  Irina looked at the woman, her eyes widening in surprise and concern before she got a grip on her emotions and headed towards her.

  Mamba looked towards the centre of the ring and the zombie tied to the support pillar, snarling, and straining against its restraints.

  “Get all the girls in the ring,” Mamba ordered loudly, before drinking some of his coffee and making his own way over there.

  Irina looked towards the ring with concern written all over her face, remembering the ‘entertainment’ from the night before and wondering what Mamba was going to do for an encore. Were the women now dispensable after the men had got what they wanted? She knew that there was no way they could make a run for it, so she had no option but to lead the injured woman towards the ring.

  The men gathered near the edge of the ring, waiting to see what was going to happen next. You just never knew with Mamba and that was part of the fun, and to some extent, fear.

  Mamba waited until all the women were in the ring and it had gone quiet before he spoke.

  “Come closer,” he ordered as he moved across to the struggling zombie.

  The women crept closer, eyes darting around warily.

  Mamba reached the zombie, grabbed its chin, and held up the face so everyone could see it, drawing a few gasps from the women. Faruk and Ismet had done a good job securing it and making sure the mouth had been tightly gagged.

  What used to be the Estonian woman was now nothing but a monster, hair hanging limply around its face as it tried to thrash its head from side to side and strike at Mamba.

  “Now ya see what happens if ya get bit,” Mamba said, taking his time to look at each of the women in front of him. “Get bit, yer dead. Got it?”

  There were a few nods from the women, some of them now weeping openly.

  “Right, who wants ta finish it off?” Mamba asked.

  Irina translated and most of the women’s faces turned from sorrow to horror. However, the Slovak woman from the night before stepped forward, looking eager to have another go.

  “Not ya,” Mamba said. “Ya done yer bit. Someone else.”

  Irina translated again, and after a few seconds hesitation, a young-looking woman with short brown hair took a tentative step forward.

  Mamba smiled and withdrew one of his Bowie knives before handing it over.

  The woman looked at the knife in her hand then at the zombie, summoning up the courage to stab it.

  “Tell her ta stab the body a few times first,” Mamba said to Irina, who passed on the message.

  The woman looked at Mamba then back to the zombie. She then raised the knife high and sank it into the zombie’s chest.

  The zombie kept straining against Mamba’s hand as if nothing had happened.

  Mamba suddenly let go of the zombie’s chin and its head shot forward, almost headbutting the woman who automatically pulled her head back and out of the way just in time. That broke the spell, and in fury, the woman started stabbing away at the zombie in a frenzy.

  After a few stabs, the woman stopped and stared in amazement at the creature still writhing and straining in front of her. She looked at Mamba, who nodded, and the woman focused back on the zombie and raised her knife again. She paused for a second, staring into the zombie’s blank eyes before thrusting the knife forward and burying it through the zombie’s eye socket. The zombie stopped moving and its head slumped to its chest. The woman withdrew the knife, wiped it on the zombie’s clothes and handed it back to a smiling Mamba.

  “Good job,” Mamba commended her, although she had no idea what he had said. She took his smile as confirmation she had done well and smiled back.

  “Learn the lesson,” Mamba cautioned to the rest of the women. “Ya gotta be quick ‘n merciless, otherwise yer dead.”

  Some of the women nodded, their gazes turning steely as they finally realised what they were up against and what they might have to do to survive.

  Mamba looked around.

  “Basir, sort out some normal clothin’ so we can get outta this riot gear ‘n blend in. Then we’re goin’ fer a scout ‘round.”

  30

  Day 26 – 08:45

  Heathrow

  Issy had gathered her team of twenty, split them up into pairs and sent them off in different directions to scout the surrounding areas outside the perimeter. They were all dirty and were blending in with the zombies, looking for anything that looked out of place or which might give them a clue as to where the terrorists had gone.

  It was boring and a thankless task covering such a large area, but they all had the incentive of revenge to keep them going despite them being dead on their feet.

  There were areas where it wasn’t worth searching immediately, like the West of the airport. There was very little outside the perimeter and it was highly unlikely anyone would make their escape that way. So, they kept their search to the more built up areas, knowing that the terrorists could still be watching from somewhere safe. For that reason, the soldiers were in civilian gear and just had knives and pistols concealed on their person. They shuffled along, merging with the zombies, just their eyes flicking in all directions.

  Issy was standing near T3 with her second in command, Don. Don was in his late thirties, with dark hair, beard, and brown eyes. He was a big man, just over six feet tall but also wide and strong. He had been a Staff Sergeant for years, generally whipping new recruits into some semblance of a soldier and had worked closely with Issy over the past few weeks. He was strong and dependable and just what this whole situation required. He went about his work without complaint and frequently came up with useful observations or suggestions.

  They were looking at the damage and watching Andy and his team debate the best way to remove the rubble carefully, without causing any more injuries or deaths. Issy’s anger was building steadily. She was just waiting for her walkie talkie to spring into life and for one of her team to tell her they had a lead.

  As each minute passed, her frustration became almost palpable and she was sorely tempted to start raging at the unjustness of everything. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, then calmed herself with thoughts of what she would do to Mamba when she finally tracked him down. And she would. She had no doubt whatsoever that they would cross paths again, and this time it would be on her terms.

  31

  Day 26 – 08:45

  Swindon

  “Here you go, Boss,” Basir said, as he and a group of men dumped loads of hiking gear just outside the ring.

  Mamba had decided that they would need to get out of the military gear for their walk around Swindon just in case there were people watching. They could then blend in more easily and not draw the sort of attention riot gear might bring on themselves.

  Mamba sauntered over, looking over the gear. He spotted something bright and leant over to pick it up.

  “What the fuck is this?” he asked as he unfolded the bright yellow garment.

  “It
’s a kagool,” Basir said, before adding helpfully, “it’s a lightweight coat to keep the rain off.”

  “I know what a fuckin’ kagool is,” Mamba shot back, “but what fuckin’ colour is this?”

  “Daffodil yellow it said on the box,” Basir replied helpfully.

  “Fuck daffodil yellow. I ain’t wearin’ this shite,” Mamba said forcefully, with Ahmed starting to laugh by his side. “Ya’d look like a fuckin’ bird watcher. ‘Look at me wiv me poncy gear’,” he mimicked, doing an exaggerated twirl whilst holding the garment up to his chest and bringing more laughs from his men.

  “Twitcher,” Ahmed added helpfully.

  “What?” Mamba asked, turning to face him.

  “Twitcher,” Ahmed reiterated. “it’s the name used fer bird watchers.”

  Mamba stared at him as if Ahmed has lost his mind.

  “Do I look like I fuckin care what they’re called?”

  “Jus’ givin’ ya the benefit of me wisdom.”

  “Well, don’t!”

  Mamba turned back to Basir in anger.

  “How the fuck we s’posed ta blend in wearin’ bright fuckin’ yellow?” he screamed.

  There were a few more sniggers and laughs all around as Basir went bright red.

  “There were some other colours…” Basir started, but Mamba cut him off.

  “Then go ‘n fuckin’ get ‘em ‘n make sure they’re dark.”

  Basir and a couple men turned and ran off quickly.

  “What a fuckin’ wanker,” Mamba muttered, turning to look at the rest of the gear. He picked up some walking boots and a heavy wool jumper before tossing them back down. There were also pairs of trousers, socks, shirts, water bottles and belts.

  “Ya did tell ‘em ta go find some hikin’ gear,” Ahmed pointed out from behind him.

  “Not bright fuckin’ yellow I didn’t,” Mamba replied, raising more laughs.

  Mamba picked six men who would go with him and Ahmed and ordered them to get changed. This was intended to be a stealthy look around the area and the last thing he needed was bright yellow fucking kagools. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Hana and the Slovak woman standing there.