Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  Simon strode into the park full of confidence, immediately spotting the lone figure standing in the middle. What an idiot. Well, he was about to find out it wasn’t a good idea to mess with Simon.

  As Simon walked towards the figure, leaving his friends at the entrance, his kids entered the park and spread out along the edges, attention inwards and covering all escape routes. Simon stopped when he was a few metres away from Mamba.

  “Hey! Simples. Glad ya could make it,” Mamba started.

  “My name is Simon,” Simon corrected, not showing any reaction to the insult.

  “My mistake. I forgot. What Simon says, Simon gets, ain’t that right?”

  Simon nodded.

  “So, here I am. What do you want?”

  “I tol’ ya ta come alone.”

  Simon laughed.

  “Do I look stupid?”

  “Yes,” Mamba replied sincerely. “Ya think a few kids is gonna make me piss me pants? I ain’t like yer parents,” he added with a grin.

  “So, what do you want?” Simon repeated, clearly getting bored of the pissing contest.

  “Ta kill ya. Then I’ll let the rest of ‘em go back untouched.”

  “Why would you want to kill me?” Simon asked, the first seeds of doubt appearing. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know the type, ‘n ’cos ya disrespected me when I was here afore.”

  Simon shook his head slowly, as if amazed that anyone could be so stupid. He reached behind him and pulled out a large hunting knife with a serrated blade.

  Mamba feigned shock and backed off with his hands up as if scared before stopping and laughing.

  The kids around the perimeter slowly edged forwards.

  “Ya betta tell the little fuckers ta stay right where they are,” Mamba warned.

  “Says who?” Simon asked, looking around and grinning.

  “Says me,” Mamba replied and put one arm into the air.

  Suddenly, what looked like combat troops carrying machine guns dropped from some of the trees behind the kids, while others entered the park through the usual entrances and spread out.

  Simon looked around with mounting concern, realising that although the kids outnumbered the soldiers, the weaponry on show more that changed the balance of power. He held up his hands in a ‘stop’ motion and the kids did as instructed, some of them now noticing the soldiers and turning to face them. One look at the MP5’s pointed in their direction and they quickly dropped their weapons on the ground.

  “I thought you said to come alone,” Simon accused.

  “Do I look stupid?” Mamba mimicked what Simon had said a few seconds earlier.

  “Why are you doing this?” Simon asked with a voice rising in pitch, his mask of calm beginning to desert him.

  “I already tol’ ya. Shouldn’t’ve fucked wiv me, little boy,” Mamba replied, pulling his Bowie knife from its sheath.

  Simon dropped his knife, now looking like he might be sick.

  “I don’t want to fight,” he whinged, stepping back several paces and holding his hands up.

  “Typical bully. When the goin’ gets tough…” Mamba tilted his head on one side as if thinking then in a singalong voice continued, “the tough get goin’, huh!”

  Simon looked at Mamba, realising that the man was clearly nuts. He backed off another couple of paces, wondering if he would make it if turned and ran. There was an ominous silence all over the park as he considered his options. Even the birds seemed to have gone silent.

  In the end, he decided to run. He turned and sprinted back the way he had come. He only managed half a dozen strides before he heard a bang and felt a searing pain in his back. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his front, staring at blades of grass a few millimetres in front of his eyes.

  There were gasps and screams from some of the kids watching events unfold, some of the younger ones beginning to wail and cry.

  Mamba walked up to Simon’s prone form and calmly put another round in the back of his head. Stupid kid.

  Mamba looked up, then around at all the people watching him. He put the gun away and walked towards the group of older kids that ran things and was quietly pleased to see them cowering at his approach.

  “Ya lot will look after these kids, not bully ‘em inta doin’ what ya want. Off ya go,” he said.

  It took a momentary pause before the older kids realised that they weren’t going the same way as Simon. The two girls reacted quickest, shouting to the kids to pick up their weapons and head back to the shopping centre, then they turned and started to walk away. The older boys were a little dazed, reality hitting them hard. They stayed silent for a second and then meekly followed the girls.

  Mamba watched them all go.

  “Stop lookin’ at their arses,” Ahmed commented.

  Mamba stopped staring to look at Ahmed.

  “I was jus’ thinkin’…”

  “I know what ya was thinkin’,” Ahmed interrupted. “Too young.”

  “No, they ain’t,” Mamba retorted. “Old enough ta bleed, old enough ta butcher.”

  Ahmed shook his head.

  “Oh man! What are ya? A throwback to the Middle Ages?”

  “I don’t see what the problem is,” Mamba argued. “How old are they? Nineteen? Old enough. ‘N, what’s the Middle Ages?”

  “The Middle Ages don’t matter ‘n it ain’t the point. Ya do summat nice like lettin’ ‘em go, then ya go back ta yer old ways.”

  “I didn’t do anythin’,” Mamba protested.

  “Ya were thinkin’ it.”

  “Can’t I fuckin’ dream anymore? Mebbe I should jus’ go ‘n do ‘em, then ya can fuckin’ preach. Anyway, what’s wrong wiv the old ways? Never fuckin’ stopped ya doin’ the same in the past.”

  “Things’ve changed,” Ahmed replied.

  Mamba stared at Ahmed.

  “Like what? The end of the world? Ain’t nothin’. Although, I mus’ admit, there is less skirt ‘round these days so ya need ta get it when ya can. Might become…what’s that word where there’s none left?”

  “Extinct.”

  “That’s it! Then ya’d either have ta turn queer or do a bit of DIY.”

  Ahmed didn’t say anything, but watched the kids trooping off. Mamba continued to stare at Ahmed, feeling like something had changed but not knowing what it was.

  “What’s the fuckin’ matter wiv ya, Ahmed? Ya turnin’ inta a pussy?”

  Mamba continued staring as Ahmed looked everywhere but at Mamba.

  “It’s that fuckin’ Ayla, ain’t it? Yer like a lovesick puppy, man. Ya need ta get a grip.”

  “I’m fuckin’ tired of runnin’ ‘round killin’ shit ‘n fightin’. Why can’t we jus’ go home ‘n get a life?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Mamba asked seriously. “Ya’d be fuckin’ bored wivin a day.”

  “I’m thinkin’ it’s time ta settle down a bit.”

  “Fer fucks sake, Ahmed! How old’re ya? Ya ain’t a fuckin’ pensioner. Ya need ta get a grip, yer fuckin’ depressin’ me.”

  “Depressing ya?” Ahmed retorted heatedly, finally turning to look at Mamba.

  “What’s that s’posed ta mean?”

  “Figure it out.”

  Mamba was about to reply when Karina approached them. Ahmed and Mamba watched her in silence.

  “I’m not interrupting a lover’s tiff, am I?” she asked sweetly.

  “What?!” Mamba retorted. “What the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout woman?”

  “Everyone knows you two have a bromance going on,” she explained.

  “No, we fuckin’ don’t,” Mamba spluttered. “Anyway, what the fuck do ya want? We’re busy.”

  “I can see that,” Karina replied. “Me and one of the other girls want to stay and help the kids.”

  Mamba was a little taken aback. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Is this a fuckin’ joke?”

  “No.”

  Mamba thought about it. It wo
uld be two pieces of skirt less, which wasn’t good, especially as he was developing a soft spot for Karina. On the other hand, he wouldn’t have to decide whether to bin Irina or Hana to make room for her in his tent. It could be a win-win, although there would be less women to share amongst the men. Still, that was their problem. They should find their own rather than replying on Mamba to find it for them. Yeah, this was a good way to solve some of his problems.

  “Who’s the other woman?” Mamba asked, ready to reject the request if she said Irina or Hana.

  “Marika,” Karina confirmed.

  Mamba started laughing.

  “Fuck me, Ahmed, the bird’s bored of ya already!”

  Ahmed didn’t rise to the bait.

  “If she wants ta stay wiv the kids, then she should stay. It’s her life,” Ahmed said solemnly.

  “I’m seriously beginnin’ ta wonder ‘bout ya, Ahmed. Are ya ill?”

  Ahmed ignored him.

  “That’s settled then,” Karina said, turning away.

  “Hold on,” Mamba ordered.

  Karina half turned to look at him over her shoulder.

  “What? You said we could go at any time. You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

  “Nah, ya can go, but we’re gonna have a big party afore we go ‘n ya should both be there,” Mamba winked, “’n ya can invite ‘em two girls as well.” He indicated the departing group.

  “I don’t think so,” Karina replied. “When are you planning on going?”

  “Tomorra.”

  Ahmed looked at Mamba. This was news to him. He thought they might stay a while in the warehouse where they had pretty much whatever they wanted on hand.

  “Where we goin’?” Ahmed asked.

  “I’m takin’ ya back ta Ayla,” Mamba said.

  “Ya mean ya want ta go back ta Heathrow ta fight ‘em, not ta find Ayla fer me.”

  “Two birds, one stone, Ahmed. I got some scores ta settle, then we can ease off.”

  “What time’s the party?” Karina asked, breaking the argument building between the pair again.

  “Soon as we get back.”

  Karina thought about it.

  “OK, one last party. See you later.”

  47

  Day 27 – 15:00

  Swindon

  The music was loud, the beers were flowing, and Dev had been passing out the wacky-backy like it was going out of fashion.

  Pretty much all the men were stoned or drunk or both and it was all getting rather messy.

  Karina and Marika had turned up without the two younger girls; the last thing they wanted to do was put temptation in Mamba’s way.

  After speaking to Mamba in the park, they had caught up with the kids and explained that they wanted to stay and help them build a future. It was clear that the kids had been shaken and weren’t sure what to do next, so they welcomed the newcomers with some relief. Their previous confidence seemed to have evaporated and Karina and Marika knew that they had made the right decision.

  When they arrived at the farewell party, they had spoken to the other girls, and one by one they had convinced them to stay behind and help rather than follow Mamba and his men and get treated like shit. It hadn’t taken much persuading and they were all on board with the plan, although no one wanted to broach the subject with Mamba, having seen what he could do when he lost his temper.

  Karina and Marika had decided that they should be the ones to tell him, hoping that he wouldn’t go off on one. With ZZ Top’s ‘Gimme all your lovin’ blasting inside the warehouse, they plucked up their courage and headed towards the ring where they expected to find him.

  Mamba was holding court, sitting in one of the deck chairs that Basir had found, beer cans littered all over the floor. He had a spliff in one hand, a fresh beer in the other and a big cheesy grin on his face. Ahmed, Dev, Basir, Emre and Khalid were next to him, all seemingly enjoying the party, except Ahmed, who looked like he wished he were anywhere but there.

  “Here comes the entertainment,” Emre shouted as he spotted the two women approaching.

  The cheesy grins turned into leers as they watched Karina and Marika head towards them.

  “Wassup, girls?” Mamba said, slurring slightly. “Grab a pew,” he added, reaching to drag a couple of free chairs towards him.

  Karina and Marika took the seats, one on each side of Mamba. They accepted the proffered beers but rejected the spliffs. They popped the ring on their cans and took a drink, wondering how and when they should tell Mamba the news.

  “Come fer a last shag afore y’all bugger off?” Mamba asked.

  The two women looked at each other. How did he know? Was he going to erupt?

  “How did you know?” Karina asked.

  “I ain’t stupid. It was obvious. As soon as ya decided ta stay,” he said, pointing his can at Karina, “I knew ya’d all wanna stick together.”

  “Are you annoyed?” Marika asked.

  Mamba shrugged. If he were honest, apart from the sex, he couldn’t care less. Women were a pain in the arse and nothing but trouble. They were only useful for one thing…or two if you counted cooking and cleaning…or was that three? His thinking was a bit woolly, but either way, who cared?

  “Nah, I’m chilled,” Mamba replied.

  “Are you sure?” Karina asked, suspicious something was going on which she wasn’t aware of, or he was going to go mental at any second.

  “Yeah, take care of the kids. Ya wouldn’t like where we’re goin’ anyway.”

  Karina and Marika looked at each other, eyebrows raised, silently agreeing not to push it and just move on.

  “So, tell us what you’re going to do,” Marika invited, trying to change the subject.

  “We goin’ back ta Heathrow. Got a few scores ta settle.”

  “Fuckin’ A,” Khalid said, having been listening avidly to the conversation. “We’re gonna sort those fuckers out once and for all.”

  “Fuckin’ stupid, if ya ask me,” Ahmed said.

  Mamba’s head whipped around.

  “What the fuck ya whingin’ ‘bout now?”

  “Well, smartarse, have ya considered fer one minute, that they’ve got at least three or four times as many soldiers as us. Plus, they got ‘copters. Might have tanks by now.”

  “Yeah, but we took most of their guns ‘n blew up the rest. ‘N they ain’t got no tanks.”

  “How d’ya know?”

  “Savas woulda tol’ me.”

  “Where is Savas ‘n the others ya sent off?”

  “Dunno, prob’ly dead. That bitch Cobra got ‘em.”

  “Great. Anyway, guns ain’t gonna compete wiv fuckin’ rockets. ‘N even if they short on the gun front, they still got enough. ‘N they got trained shooters. Snipers.”

  “Fuck me Ahmed, sounds like ya admire ‘em! We got grenades, rocket launchers ‘n more fuckin’ guns ‘n ammo than ‘em. We jus’ gotta be clever. Like terrorists.”

  “I’m not wearing a bomb vest,” Emre said.

  “Not like that, ya twat,” Mamba retorted.

  “We still outnumbered ‘n they know we gonna come fer ‘em so they’ll be ready ‘n waitin’,” Ahmed pointed out.

  “Heathrow is fucked, man. Zombies killin’ ‘em, munch, munch. It’ll be a piece of piss. They can’t watch all the time, they gotta sleep. No more cameras, no more satellites, no more cheatin’,” Mamba smiled like he’d already won.

  Ahmed shook his head, knowing it was pointless arguing. Mamba would do what he usually did; whatever he felt like, regardless of the consequences.

  “Ya know ya could get everyone killed? Not that ya’d care.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Ahmed.”

  “I’m up for it,” Emre said.

  “See, there ya go, Ahmed,” Mamba said smugly. “Loyalty.”

  Karina stood and Marika quickly followed suit.

  “We’ll catch you later,” Karina said, and they both walked away.

  “Count on it!” Mamba shouted after them.


  He crunched his empty beer can and threw it towards the ring before reaching down and snagging another.

  “Can’t believe we’re letting the women go,” Dev said morosely.

  “We’ll find some more,” Mamba replied confidently. “Plenty more fish ‘n all that.”

  “Yeah but most of the fish are fucking zombies,” Dev pointed out.

  “So?” Mamba said with a grin creeping across his face.

  “I’m not shagging anything that’s dead,” Dev shot back, aghast at the inference.

  “They aren’t dead,” Emre butted in, “just not exactly alive…or fresh.”

  “Well, I’m not into that necro…whatever,” Dev said, adamantly.

  “Necromancy,” Mamba supplied helpfully.

  Ahmed laughed and Mamba’s head shot around to stare at him.

  “What?

  “It ain’t necromancy, bro. That’s talkin’ ta the dead ‘n shit. It’s necrophilia. Shaggin’ the dead or summat like that.”

  “Ya seem ta know a lot ‘bout it,” Mamba pointed out, with a smile.

  “Read ‘bout it in…”

  “’Course ya did, Ahmed,” Mamba interrupted, “but don’t ya worry, yer secret’s safe wiv me,” he added with a wink.

  “I don’t see how you can shag a dead body anyway,” Dev mused. “The body goes all hard so you wouldn’t be able to get it in.”

  “Rigor mortis,” Ahmed explained, helpfully. “But it don’t last.”

  “Is that right?” Basir said in surprise.

  “Still wouldn’t,” Dev said.

  “Hey Ahmed,” Mamba said, “talkin’ ‘bout that rigor thing, ya remember that fucker, Perry or summat? That nonce from a few years ago? We’d jus’ killed the fucker fer the Judge.”

  “I remember,” Ahmed agreed, shaking his head with a wistful smile on his face.

  “We had a bit of fun wiv his missus while he was lyin’ dead on the floor. By the time we was finished wiv her, he was rock solid, ‘n I mean, rock fuckin’ solid.”

  Basir, Khalid, Dev and Emre all laughed.

  “Wasn’t the missus a bit put off?” Dev asked.

  “She didn’t have no choice,” Mamba replied coolly. “Anyway, after we finished, we bundled the body up in a rug ‘n carted him down the stairs ‘n out ta the car…”