Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  “What?”

  “Can we come?” Hana asked in broken English.

  The Slovak woman was smiling and looking excited.

  “No, ya fuckin’ can’t,” Mamba replied, then changed his mind. “Yeah, actually ya can.” He smiled and got smiles in return. “Ahmed, sort ‘em out some gear ‘n weapons.”

  Mamba turned back to the pile and selected some garments. He sat on the floor to try on some boots and threw them back onto the pile when they didn’t fit.

  “Anyone seen Faruk ‘n Ahmed?” he asked aloud.

  “No, thank fuck,” Ahmed muttered, and received a glare from Mamba.

  “They went out,” someone replied.

  Mamba wasn’t surprised. He knew they liked to mooch about on their own. He selected another pair of boots and found that they fit, then quickly got dressed before watching the others doing the same. He paid close attention to Hana and the Slovak woman, thinking he might have to add the latter to his growing harem, especially with the body that was currently on show. She had some spunk, that girl, and he wondered what she was like in the sack. Maybe she had the sort of wild energy he’d found to his liking with Ayla.

  “What’s her name?” Mamba shouted at Hana, as the Slovak woman pulled a sweater over her bare chest and turned towards him.

  “Karina,” she answered for herself.

  “Ya betta do as I say when we’re out. Wouldn’t want ya ta get killed afore I get the chance ta…”

  “These better Boss?” Basir interrupted, throwing a dozen dark garments onto the dwindling pile then hunting around for something to wear himself.

  “What ya doin’?” Mamba asked, as Basir started taking off his combat vest.

  “Getting ready to go,” Basir replied, as if it were obvious.

  “No, yer not,” Mamba confirmed. “Yer gonna do an inventory of this place, build some bombs, barricade the outside ‘n start siphonin’ petrol from the cars nearby.”

  Basir screwed up his face at the thought of sucking petrol. He’d get someone else to do that. He was disappointed that he wasn’t going with Mamba and realised that was probably because Mamba was pissed that he’d selected the yellow kagools. He’d thought they looked good and that everyone would be able to see each other easily in case there was any trouble, but with hindsight, he realised they probably weren’t appropriate for what Mamba had in mind. He’d been berating himself all the way back to the shelves. At least these ones were navy blue, so there shouldn’t be any more grief. He nodded in acceptance of his new orders and started selecting men for the different jobs.

  “We ready?” Mamba asked as he stood up.

  32

  Day 26 – 09:15

  Swindon

  “Anyone bin here afore?” Mamba asked quietly, as the small group blended with the zombies as they followed the A3102 towards the Town Centre.

  There were shakes of the head all around and Mamba shrugged. He’d just follow the signs then.

  Mamba had Hana and Karina close behind him, with the others spread out across the road so that they didn’t provide an easy target. He kept checking on them to see if they were OK. The last thing he wanted was one or both freaking out and causing them trouble. So far, they seemed to be taking things in their stride, but he’d seen their eyes bulge on a couple of occasions over the last kilometre or so, mainly at mutilated bodies rather than the zombies which came a little bit too close for comfort on occasion. Karina specifically didn’t seem at all bothered by the zombies, and encouraged by Mamba, had stabbed half a dozen so far. Hana, not wanting to be left out or look weak, had disposed of another handful. Mamba enjoyed watching them and seeing their inner warriors gradually coming out.

  They reached a roundabout and the sign indicated a right-hand turn continuing on the A3102. Mamba wondered how roads were designated. As new roads were built, were they just given the next available number on a list? Why were some given names and others given numbers? He thought about it some more and concluded that all roads must have numbers, but he wasn’t sure if they all had names. Did he care? Not really, but it was beginning to bug him for no apparent reason.

  He motioned Ahmed over.

  “OK, smartarse, answer this one. Why do all roads have numbers but not names?”

  “How the fuck should I know, ‘n who cares?” Ahmed replied.

  “I thought ya knew everythin’,” Mamba retorted, “or wasn’t it in ‘em shit magazines ya keep readin’?”

  “They jus’ ‘A’ ‘n ‘B’ as far as I know. ‘A’ fer good roads ‘n ‘B’ fer shit roads.”

  “Ha!” Mamba replied, as if he knew something Ahmed didn’t.

  “What?” Ahmed asked, with a frown on his face.

  “Ya forgot the motorways!” Mamba said gleefully. “They’re ‘M’ roads.”

  “I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout motorways. I was talkin’ ‘bout normal roads.”

  “A motorway is a normal road, yer plank.”

  “No, it ain’t. Its special. It’s got three lanes.”

  “So? It’s still a road.”

  “What the fuck has this got ta do wiv anythin’?” Ahmed asked, shaking his head. “Anyway, how’d ya know they all ain’t got names?”

  Mamba started laughing.

  “Got ya again! The motorways don’t have names.”

  “Are ya sure?”

  Mamba thought about it. He was pretty sure, but he couldn’t guarantee it, but that wasn’t going to stop him arguing the point.

  “Well, what’s the M1 called then?”

  Now it was Ahmed’s turn to pause and think.

  “Got ya!” Mamba said, grinning inanely. “Come on, clever dick, what ya got?”

  “It’s called the London Gateway,” Ahmed replied.

  “What?” Mamba paused, thinking it through. “Bollocks! Ya jus’ made that up.”

  Ahmed was grinning, knowing he’d been caught out.

  “Well, if ya had a smartphone, ya could look it up, but as I said, who the fuck cares, man?” he countered.

  “I care,” Mamba replied. “Anyway, this is an ‘A’ road and it’s still shit, so ya were wrong again. It shoulda bin a ‘B’ road.”

  “I didn’t name the fucker,” Ahmed argued.

  Thankfully, Mamba had been distracted by a road sign showing a roundabout coming up and indicating that they should take a left onto the B4289 to the Town Centre.

  “See, this is a ‘B’ road,” Mamba pointed out once they were on it, “’n it’s no fuckin’ diff’rent ta the one we jus’ bin on.”

  “So? Ahmed retorted. “What am I gonna do ‘bout it? Mebbe we should only walk on ‘A’ roads.”

  “Don’t you two ever stop arguing?” Karina asked from behind.

  Mamba and Ahmed looked over their shoulders in surprise.

  “Ya watch it, lady, or I’ll put ya over me knee ‘n give ya a smack!” Mamba threatened.

  “Can’t wait,” Karina retorted with a grin.

  Mamba couldn’t help himself but smile. She was sounding more and more like Ayla.

  “Better watch where you’re going,” Karina said, pointing ahead.

  Mamba turned and almost walked headfirst into a zombie that was shuffling towards him. Mamba’s knife suddenly appeared from nowhere and light glinted off the blade as he plunged it into the zombie’s head without breaking stride.

  “Impressive,” Karina remarked.

  “Ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Mamba said over his shoulder.

  They continued walking and eventually came to a junction which split in two directions with a park directly opposite. The signs for the centre pointed right so Mamba headed that way.

  “We gettin’ a car on the way back,” Ahmed grumbled.

  “Shut up, Ahmed, we’re gettin’ closer,” Mamba retorted.

  The road widened into two lanes and there was a set of traffic lights with a sign indicating right towards the Brunel shopping centre.

  Mamba stopped and the others mirrored him. He turned and indicate
d that everyone should now be quiet and spread out.

  Mamba turned right, slowing his walk to a shuffling gait, the others spreading out and following suit. Mamba was surprised they hadn’t seen or heard anything, but perhaps this whole shithole had been wiped out. There seemed to be far more zombies ahead than they had seen so far, and this made him think there could be activity further ahead.

  A large multi-storey car park appeared on their left, so they were obviously heading in the right direction. The road next to it looked like it led to the loading area rather than the main entrance, so Mamba decided to keep going straight on.

  There was a wide pavement and an additional area of grass next to the car park so there was plenty of room for them to spread out. There weren’t many vehicles, which was bad news, as these would have provided useful cover. Mamba soon saw why when the car park gave way to yet another. With the amount of parking, this had to be a big centre.

  At the end of the second cark park, he came to a paved walkway with bollards marking it out as pedestrians only. He looked right and could immediately see that there didn’t appear to be much in that direction, although he did spot a pub and had a sudden urge for a drink. It would have to wait. There were more important things to do first.

  He turned left and followed the walkway, which opened into a big paved square with trees and boat sails providing shade, and benches for seating scattered around. There were birds in the trees making a noise and zombies of all ages and sizes wandering aimlessly around the area. On each side of the square were various shops, all now smashed in and clearly looted. So, at least some people had survived, at least for awhile.

  Mamba saw a large sitemap standing to one side of the square and made his way over to it. It showed that the centre was over two floors and catered for pretty much every well-known shop and provision you could want unless you were some poncy designer gear merchant with more money than sense. Nothing wrong with the good old basics and cheap gear as far as Mamba was concerned, but if he could find himself some Armani threads he might be tempted.

  He felt a prod in the back and was ready to whip around when he heard ‘don’t move!’ from someone behind him. He carefully raised his hands, glancing at the Bowie knife hanging off his belt and the pistol tucked into his jeans, wondering how the hell someone had crept up on him without him noticing, and more to the point, what the fuck the rest of his group had been doing. He hadn’t heard a thing…and that was worrying.

  33

  Day 26 – 10:00

  Swindon

  “Easy bro,” Mamba whispered. “We don’t want no trouble.”

  “What are you doing here?” the voice said.

  “Jus’ lookin’ ‘round, doin’ a bit of window shoppin’,” Mamba replied, realising that the voice behind him was high pitched.

  “Simon doesn’t like strangers.”

  “Who’s Simon?”

  “Simon says strangers are dangerous. We don’t like strangers.”

  “We’re not dangerous,” Mamba replied, once again feeling the point of something sharp in the middle of his back. “We’re jus’ lookin’ fer food ‘n stuff.”

  “You talk funny.”

  ‘So do ya’ Mamba thought but didn’t voice his opinion.

  “Where are you from?” the voice asked.

  “London, man. Can I turn ‘round?”

  “Slowly.”

  Mamba turned slowly, feeling the sharp point moving across his back before being pulled away.

  He was about to speak, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked down and saw a kid with dark hair who could have only been ten years old standing in front of him with a homemade spear. He almost laughed, but one look at the kid’s face stopped him. Now he knew where the high-pitched voice had come from.

  “Ya know kid, that I could snap that twig of yers ‘n kill ya in a second?”

  “But then all your friends would die,” the kid replied easily, glancing around.

  Mamba followed his gaze and saw several equally young individuals holding similar spears and knives against the rest of his group.

  “OK, what do ya want? I’m sure I’ve got some sweets in me pocket.”

  “We don’t want sweets,” the boy said in disgust. “We’ve got all the sweets we could ever want. Simon says all strangers have to leave, and if they don’t, they have to die.”

  “Who is this ‘Simon’ ya keep goin’ on ‘bout?” Mamba asked.

  “He’s nineteen,” the kid replied in awe, “and what Simon says, Simon gets.”

  “He’s not a game, is he?” Mamba asked curiously.

  “What?” the kid replied, clearly confused.

  “Never mind,” Mamba said, shaking his head, “I wanna meet this Simon.”

  “That’s not allowed,” the kid replied.

  “Let me guess,” Mamba said, “Simon said.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, if Simon tol’ ya to jump off a buildin’ ya’d do it?”

  The kid paused, not sure what Mamba was talking about.

  “Simon would never do that,” he said.

  “Yeah, but if he did?” Mamba asked.

  “But he wouldn’t.”

  “But he might.”

  Mamba could see the confusion in the kid’s eyes. The kid wouldn’t have expected the conversation to go this way, but then again, he hadn’t met Mamba before.

  “He wouldn’t,” the kid said again.

  “He might.”

  “He wouldn’t.”

  “He might.”

  “He wouldn’t!” the kid stressed, his voice rising.

  “He might!” Mamba shouted back.

  The kid paused, noticing that they were attracting the attention of nearby zombies, some of which were now heading in their direction.

  The kid was in two minds whether to fight off the zombies or keep his weapon trained on Mamba. Mamba made up his mind for him, palming the spear away from his body and withdrawing his knife at the same time. The kid’s eyes widened in fear as he registered the size of Mamba’s knife, all thoughts of his spear long forgotten.

  Mamba whirled away from the kid and proceeded to stab half a dozen zombies in a whirlwind of movement before coming to a rest and staring at the kid.

  While this was happening, the rest of Mamba’s group had taken advantage of the distraction to disarm the other kids and get their own weapons out. Except for Hana and Karina, who hadn’t moved and were still being held on the end of spears.

  “You touch me, and your friends die,” the kid said bravely as Mamba approached him, although there were the first seeds of doubt in his shaky voice and a little fear in his eyes.

  “Go ahead,” Mamba offered, drawing shrill ‘what’s?!’ from the two women.

  Mamba smiled, his eyes hard and his teeth hinting at more violence.

  The kid signalled and the women were realised.

  “That’s betta. Now, take us ta Simon,” Mamba ordered.

  The kid signalled to his friends and they regrouped. After a few unspoken gestures, they all turned as one and headed towards the entrance of the shopping centre.

  Ahmed caught up with Mamba, who had started to follow the kids, a few paces behind.

  “Are ya sure we should follow ‘em? There could be more inside. Could be a trap.”

  “Ya scared of little kids, Ahmed?”

  “It don’t matter if they little. If they all got tools, man, ‘n we’ll be outnumbered. Mebbe we should go back ‘n get the rest of the guys first?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Mamba asked with a smile.

  Hana and Karina rushed up.

  “Thanks, you bastard,” Karina said hotly.

  “They wouldn’t a hurt ya,” Mamba said confidently, without breaking stride. “Ya had the chance ta get free like the rest of us but ya bottled it.”

  “We did not!” Hana retorted.

  “Ya did. Ya still had a coupla little kids holdin’ spears on ya, unlike the rest of us. Another lesson. Gott
a take yer chances when they come.”

  Neither Hana nor Karina responded, realising that they should have sorted it out for themselves when they had an opening, and whilst they were now both a little chagrined, they were still very unhappy with Mamba’s attitude. They were both determined that they wouldn’t be made to look stupid again.

  The kids entered the shopping centre where there were a couple more armed kids standing guard. Mamba and his group followed, their feet echoing off the tiled floor as they walked along in silence. As they approached the middle of the building, it opened to a double height vestibule with a glass ceiling and a second floor running around all sides. All along the upper balustrades, were more kids looking down on the new arrivals.

  “Tol’ ya there’d be more,” Ahmed whispered in a ‘told-you-so’ voice.

  “Yeah, like summat outta Mad Max,” Mamba replied, eying all the kids with wonder. They seemed to range in ages, but he didn’t spot anyone that looked older than a teenager.

  “Let’s hope one of ‘em ain’t mental wiv a sharp boomerang,” Ahmed replied sarcastically, immediately recalling the feral kid from the second Mad Max film, hissing like a cat, and taking out the Barbarians with his weapon.

  “Not that film. I mean the one wiv all ‘em kids ‘n Tina Turner.”

  “Thunderdome.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  He started humming ‘We don’t need another hero’ as the kids headed for the stairs and started up.

  “Ya sure ya wanna do this?” Ahmed asked.

  “Yeah, I wanna meet this Simon.”

  “Who the fuck is Simon?”

  “That’s what we goin’ ta find out.”

  34

  Day 26 – 10:15

  Swindon

  As they reached the upper floor, the other kids parted to allow them to pass. Some were holding spears and other weapons ready for use, but the majority were weaponless, and appeared to be more intrigued by the newcomers rather than concerned or afraid.