Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  Mamba sighed theatrically and made a big show of getting to his feet.

  “What the fuck am I s’posed to be lookin’….”

  Mamba’s voice trailed off. They’d just rounded another bend in the river and passed under Wandsworth Bridge when he saw what Basir had meant.

  Sitting on a dock sticking out into the river five hundred metres ahead was an Apache helicopter.

  60

  Day 30 – 15:30

  River Thames

  “Fuck me! Stop the boat ‘n pull inta the side,” Mamba ordered, reaching back to his seat to grab his binoculars.

  Basir slowed and coasted the boat towards a platform on the Northern bank.

  Ahmed gestured to the other boats to do the same then grabbed his own binoculars and joined Mamba by the controls. The walkie talkies were crackling but Ahmed ignored them for the moment. He felt the boat behind gently bump into them as it manoeuvred to the platform.

  “See anythin’?” he asked.

  “Coupla guards wanderin’ ‘round carryin’ guns ‘n wearin’ combat gear.”

  “Who the fuck are they?”

  “Gotta be from Heathrow. That’s gotta be their ‘copter, can’t be many of ‘em ‘round. Plus, they wearin’ the same gear as us. Jus’ as well that ‘copter was there otherwise we’d’ve jus’ sailed right up ta ‘em.”

  “What we gonna do? We can’t jus’ sail past. They’ll see us.”

  Mamba scanned the rest of the area but couldn’t see much of the dockside because his view was blocked by a hotel.

  “Mebbe we should jus’ go ashore ‘n walk?” Ahmed suggested.

  “There’s people in that hotel,” Mamba said, and Ahmed quickly switched direction and focused to look.

  “Shit!” Ahmed muttered, seeing multiple people wandering around behind the windows. “How the fuck did they get here ‘n sort it out so quick?”

  “Dunno, don’t care. They’re sittin’ ducks.”

  “What ya goin’ ta do?”

  Mamba ignored his question and replied with one of his own.

  “Who’s runnin’ the long boat?”

  “Walid, I think.”

  Mamba picked up his walkie talkie.

  “Walid, get the rocket launchers ‘n spares ‘n send ‘em up the line so every boat’s got some ‘n everyone else make sure yer guns are fully loaded,” he ordered.

  After a few seconds, he saw men on all the boats starting to check their weapons then Walid appeared at the rear of the long boat and started passing out rocket launchers and spare rockets. The weapons were passed along from boat to boat and when the supply chain stopped, Mamba found himself with a launcher and three rockets. He got back on the walkie talkie.

  “Walid, I want more.”

  “That’s all of them,” Walid came back. “You’ve got three and the other boats have got two.”

  Mamba counted off how many they had. Six boats, five with two rockets and him with three. Thirteen. Should be more than enough.

  “We just gonna blow the shit outta ‘em?” Ahmed asked.

  “Duh, no. We gonna sail past ‘n wave nicely,” Mamba replied sarcastically. “’Course we gonna blow the shit outta ‘em. Anythin’ that moves.”

  “What? Even that hotel?”

  “Dead right.”

  “But what if Cobra’s in there? She’ll be killed ‘n ya won’t get yer revenge.”

  What Ahmed didn’t say was that Ayla might also be in there.

  “Fed up wiv chasin’ that bitch. Jus’ gonna finish it once ‘n fer all.”

  Ahmed didn’t reply but silently prayed Ayla was nowhere near the place.

  “We ready?” Mamba said into his walkie talkie.

  A number of ‘yes bosses’ came back.

  “Let’s do it,” Mamba said. “Long boat first, then the rest of us. Stay under cover until we’re opposite then open up. Hit that fuckin’ ‘copter first, ‘cos I don’t want that in the air shootin’ back at us.”

  What Mamba didn’t know was that the Apache was out of all ammunition and wasn’t a threat.

  Walid let the long boat drift away from the platform then he engaged the engine. With men hiding all along its port side, he motored past the other boats and stayed to the left of the river, as far away from the target as possible.

  Once he had passed, Basir followed then the other four boats joined the queue, with the second largest boat holding nine at the rear.

  61

  Day 30 – 15:45

  Battersea

  Colin Jenkins was sitting in a shed-like building on the far Eastern side of the helipad, the Apache sitting on the floating dock twenty-five metres in front of him and five degrees to his left.

  Colin was twenty-six years old and had been in the army since he left school at age sixteen. He was in the last hour of his four-hour shift and was struggling to keep his eyes open because of the boredom. He couldn’t understand the need to keep watch of the river because nothing ever happened, but his boss, Dave Grant, had been insistent from the very first day that they had arrived here, and Colin wasn’t about to argue with the man. Colin’s colleague and best friend, Joe Rutherford, was somewhere out back sneaking a quick cigarette. He and Joe had gone through basic training together and had then been assigned to the same unit.

  The other two guards on duty would be wandering around, making sure the perimeter was secure against the horde of zombies constantly pushing against the barriers and trying to get in. Colin could hear the bastards now, the constant groaning and gnashing of teeth. He’d had many nightmares at the beginning, thinking of those hordes piling through a breach and chasing him down. In his nightmare, the zombies could run and no matter how fast he moved, they just seemed to keep closing the gap until he sprang awake, screaming and sweating. Now, they just gave him the willies when he thought about them. If he had his way, they would spend all day stabbing the bastards in the head and removing the threat instead of wasting his time watching gallons and gallons of water rushing past his face. Nothing interesting ever happened.

  “What do you think about that Rebecca?” Joe said, as he returned to the shed, making Colin jump.

  They had been discussing the eligible women on site before Joe had gone for his cigarette, and it seemed he hadn’t finished with the subject.

  “Seems OK. Haven’t had that much to do with her,” Colin replied.

  “You haven’t had much to do with anyone,” Joe shot back. “You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”

  “There’s plenty of time…”

  Colin was cut off by a loud whooshing sound, followed by something screeching through the air at speed, followed by the Apache exploding in front of his very eyes, lethal metal fragments spraying outwards in all directions, smashing glass and fencing and ricocheting off walls and buildings.

  “Fucking Hell!” Colin shouted, grabbing his MP5 as he stood up and turned to Joe…who seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

  Colin looked down and saw Joe lying there with his eyes open and a surprised look on his face. He had a small shard of metal sticking straight out of his forehead.

  There was a thud as another piece of debris hit the shed and a stunned Colin heard a roar of flames as the shed was set alight. He shook his head and, carrying his MP5, quickly left the shed.

  There were clumps of burning material all over, like something he had seen on TV when they showed the aftermath of a plane crash. There was smoke everywhere and he strained to see what may have caused the explosion, swinging his MP5 from side to side, looking for a target.

  There was another whooshing sound following by another massive explosion behind him. He automatically turned to see the office disappear in a cloud of fire and dust and was knocked to the ground as the shockwave hit him. It felt like being in the middle of an earthquake, with the ground vibrating beneath him. He shook his head to try and clear it and tried to stand, but when he looked down, he saw that his leg was bleeding.

  There was more whooshing and explosion
s, but Colin was oblivious. He kept staring at the space where his left shin should have been, but all he could see was the ground covered in blood. He looked up in a daze, and as the cloud of dust dispersed, he saw his nightmare coming true.

  Where the office had been, there was now a gaping hole, and through that hole the horde of zombies were coming, marching forward like some kind of barbaric army from hell.

  Colin tried to stand again, and when that didn’t work, he started to crawl away, all thoughts of his weapon and the explosions long forgotten. Somehow, he could hear gnashing teeth getting louder with every second, but perhaps that was just his imagination working overtime. When he looked back, he could see he’d only managed to crawl a few metres and was leaving a trail of blood in his wake. His mind began to shut down when he saw dozens of zombies emerge from the smoke, just a few metres away and gaining quickly. He lay back and stared at the sky, wishing for it all to be over.

  62

  Day 30 – 15:45

  Battersea

  Dave Grant was in the second-floor restaurant area of the hotel, working out what to do with the additional people from Heathrow, who had been dropped off by one of the Chinooks the previous day.

  He looked at a name on his pad and rubbed out the role he had originally assigned for the woman. It was so difficult trying to match old skills to new skills and he wished everyone were a soldier because it would make his life that much easier.

  Dave Grant was twenty-nine, five feet ten inches tall with black hair, a beard, and brown eyes. He had been a boxer, as evidenced by his slim yet toned build, and his slightly squashed nose, which was also slightly askew due to being broken many times. He had been army’s boxing champion at his chosen weight for the previous two years until the shit had hit the fan, and since then he had been the Leader in charge of the Battersea heliport.

  Dave scratched his head and was still considering what role to assign to the woman with stock market trading experience when an explosion shattered his peace.

  Dave automatically rolled off his chair and onto the floor as soon as he heard the explosion, and his training had probably saved his life as shards of wickedly sharp glass were blasted inwards.

  He heard the screams of those less fortunate as he levered himself up and looked out of the smashed window. He saw the Apache on the dock, or what was left of it, burning on the floating platform, then saw a rocket streak across his vision in a blur before it hit the office building.

  He quickly turned to trace where the rocket had come from and spotted a small flotilla of boats, with weapons trained on the heliport. He didn’t wait to see what would happen next. He could guess. Instead, he stood and ran as fast as he could towards the main staircase, pulling out a phone from his pocket and hitting the redial.

  Holding the phone to his ear, he ran out of the restaurant and paused at the top of the stairs. The phone connected and Dave heard Issy’s voice asking him what he wanted.

  “We’re under attack,” he shouted. “Rockets. Lots of them.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know but they’re in boats on the river,” Dave replied as he started to run down the stairs.

  “We’ll send help,” he heard Issy saying.

  “Too late,” Dave shouted back.

  Dave reached the ground floor reception area and was running towards the exit when another rocket exploded in the space, vaporising everything in sight and immediately cutting the line to Issy.

  63

  Day 30 – 15:45

  Battersea

  Mamba watched as his third and final rocket hit the hotel entrance. There were more vapour trails on his right as more rockets were launched from the other boats, adding to the growing demolition and inferno in front of him.

  He saw several armed men running across the helipad, aiming to take on the attackers, but the sudden influx of incoming zombies diverted their attention and they were suddenly running for their lives with nowhere to go. A handful jumped into the Thames and were swept away, swiftly followed by tumbling zombies. Mamba didn’t hold out much hope for them.

  He saw windows in the hotel being smashed out and people started shooting towards the boats, much of the incoming fire going everywhere but the intended targets. He spotted one of his men unluckily taking a bullet to the chest as a volley strafed across the long boat, but it was clearly a lucky shot and not something to be too concerned about, unless you were the man that got hit, of course.

  The return fire didn’t last long; another two rockets aimed at the lower half of the hotel was enough to cause it to topple and fall, the top few floors hitting the edge of the dock and shearing off into the water, causing a mini-tidal wave which headed straight at them. Most of the men saw it coming and grabbed the nearest handhold, but at least two of his men were caught unawares and thrown into the river. He watched as the men still on the boat tried their best to drag the fallen men back up, but as far as Mamba could see, only one of the two made it.

  Mamba turned his attention back to the chaos in front of him and grinned. He was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any survivors and, as far as he was concerned, they thoroughly deserved it. He wondered if Cobra was in there and was in two minds whether he wanted her to be. Yes, it would be his victory, but it would also feel a little hollow. He wanted to look in her eyes as he fucked her and put a bullet in her brain at the same time. He spent a few minutes enjoying the scenery in front of him, with Ahmed standing next to him.

  His smile suddenly disappeared as he heard the whup whup whup of rotor blades and quickly looked towards the East where the sound was coming from.

  There were two heli’s heading his way; one the unmistakably shape of an Apache, but the other looked like a normal people carrier. They were both approaching very quickly.

  “Basir, get us outta here, now!” he shouted, then gave the same instruction over the walkie talkie.

  “Where to?” Basir shouted, as the boat started moving and gathering speed.

  Mamba looked around and saw a small dock close by and shouted ‘over there’ as he pointed.

  He didn’t want to get stuck on the river, literally like a sitting duck, with heli’s taking shots at them from above. He saw a puff of smoke from the Apache and knew that it might already be too late. He knew from personal experience what their missiles could do to an armoured truck, so he knew they’d all be fucked if the boats were hit. The first puff of smoke was quickly followed by a second. He wanted to scream to Basir to get a move on but knew it would be futile. Although the boat was moving, it didn’t feel fast enough, and everything seemed to slow down.

  He automatically ducked as the two missiles flew overhead and he turned just in time to see the long boat and the other larger boat explode in balls of flames. He was hardly aware of the other three smaller boats following in his wake.

  The concussion from the explosions was massive. Everyone aboard Mamba’s boat was thrown onto the deck as the front of the boat rammed into the weak, narrow dock they had been heading for. The following wave hit them from behind and the boat was literally thrown out of the water onto the pathway alongside the river and came to a rest on its side.

  Mamba rose groggily to his feet. He could feel blood running down the side of his head and his body felt like he’d done twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. He saw that Ahmed was struggling to get up so reached out to give him a hand.

  Ahmed had landed on Dev and Basir and they had cushioned his fall, so he managed to get up quite easily and started speaking. Mamba couldn’t hear a word he was saying and realised that everything was silent, except for a persistent ringing in his ears. He shook his head, but the ringing was still there. He shouted to Ahmed that he couldn’t hear, well, he thought he shouted, but he couldn’t be certain. Whatever, Ahmed didn’t acknowledge him but reached down to the floor to pick something up. When he straightened, he was holding an MP5 and quickly turned to see where the heli’s had gone. Mamba followed his gaze.

  Not far was the answer. The he
li’s were turning and coming back for more.

  Mamba looked down, grabbed whatever he could, straightened and ran around the boat and started sprinting through a small park dotted with trees and bushes, trying to put as much distance between himself and the river. He didn’t look back for the first twenty metres, but when he did cast a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that Ahmed was close behind, with Dev close behind him. He saw two others running diagonally from the far side of the park towards him. There was no sign of Basir.

  He couldn’t see the Apache, but the other one, which looked remarkably similar to the one he had ridden on from the Tower to the Green Park Estate a few weeks earlier, was now hovering over the stricken boats at the side of the river. The side door had been slid open and the people inside were clearly firing machine guns. Mamba felt sure one of them was Cobra, but he didn’t wait to find out. He turned forwards again and sprinted for the cover of nearby buildings.

  64

  Day 30 – 15:45

  Tower of London

  Issy had been in the Inner Courtyard with Jack and Daniel, going over again what had been happening and what they intended to do next. She and Jack had already explained that Sarah had flown a Boeing 737 full of civilians up to Manchester Airport where they would be safe and could lend a hand with the rebuilding going on up there. The question was whether the rest of them, including those at the Tower and in the hotel next door, should follow, at least for the time being until things settled down. They knew that Mamba would arrive at Heathrow sometime soon, and when he saw that they weren’t there, he was sure to head to the Tower.

  Daniel had been arguing that they could hold off Mamba forever from within the Tower and could even set up traps in the surrounding areas, when Issy’s ringing phone had interrupted the discussion.

  As soon as she answered, Issy heard Dave shouting, ‘We’re under attack. Rockets. Lots of them.’

  “Who?” Issy had asked.