by Hatchett
“Fuck knows!” Mamba replied, sitting on the floor, and lighting another cigarette. Where the fuck could they have gone, he wondered to himself. The helicopter had been heading in this direction when it passed over him. What else was in this direction? Mamba couldn’t think of anything.
“Might as well send everyone in ta see what they’ve left behind,” Mamba suggested, as he took another drag and watched Sami relay the order.
Minutes later, swarms of men entered the Tower and began searching it from top to bottom.
They didn’t find anything remotely useful.
74
5 Years Later
Issy sat on the grassy verge next to the small stream, her boots and socks off, jeans rolled up to her knees and her bare feet and ankles dipped beneath the surface of the water. When she stretched out her toes, she could feel the smooth stones coating the bottom.
She leant back, resting on her arms, her eyes closed, and her head tilted back to soak up the sun’s rays. She loved these warm Spring days, with the whole of the summer and the harvest to look forward to. She felt the warm breeze brush past her face and opened her eyes to see nothing but a blue sky above. She heard the hoarse high-pitched scream of a hawk somewhere in the distance, on the hunt.
The hunt. She often walked off on her own because it gave her time to think in peace and quiet and she found it relaxing, able to close her eyes and remember the good old days, before the zombie apocalypse, and what had happened since.
She regularly came to this particular spot; it was a couple of kilometres from the village and at a section of the stream which was relatively flat and shallow. The view down over the fields into the far distance was spectacular.
Life was pretty good and had been improving steadily for the past few years. The decision to leave London had turned out to be a good one in many ways, but to her it still felt like she’d run away like some sort of coward. Whenever the topic of London cropped up, which wasn’t as often these days, she still argued in favour of going back and finishing things off.
The primary decision for moving away was to keep the civilians safe and build a new community. Well, that was what everyone kept telling themselves, but Issy was still to be convinced. As far as she was concerned, Mamba was still out there and posed a huge threat and she thought of him at least once a day, sometimes more, sometimes much more.
She often wondered if she had some sort of mental illness, continually thinking about the man and not letting it go. She had to admit that the ongoing fight with him had heightened her senses and made her feel truly alive. She knew it frustrated Andy that she just wouldn’t let it drop, and they’d had many rows over the years about it. These days, she didn’t bother mentioning Mamba’s name, but she was sure Andy knew when she was thinking about him.
Andy had been good for her. He was a fun guy, a good lover, considerate, honest and he’d finally got used to her Cockney rhyming slang. ‘About fucking time’ she thought to herself and smiled. She guessed that under their old lives they would probably have been married by now, but marriage was a thing of the past. One of many things of the past.
She closed her eyes again and thought back to the last days in London and how they’d ended up here...
Ahmed had willingly told them everything they wanted to know, and more. The only thing he couldn’t tell them – or wouldn’t – was where Mamba was hiding out. They knew Mamba only had four men left, so it was a perfect opportunity to track him down and take him out. Unfortunately, London was a big place and there were far too many places for cockroaches like him to hide. Issy would have gladly stayed behind for as long as it took, but the others wouldn’t have it.
The Leaders had voted to move and the scores on the doors hadn’t even been close. Only Issy, Bear and Irish had wanted to stay and fight, but the rest yearned for a quieter life where they could rebuild. Issy was all for that, but she wanted to sort out Mamba first.
They had travelled back to Heathrow and waited for Sarah to return from her Manchester trip. While they waited, Jack’s two sons, Jack Jr and Kyle joined them at Heathrow with another twenty police officers, all looking for a fresh start. Irish and Bear had taken the spare time to take a Chinook down to the Aldershot barracks to stock up with more weapons and ammunition.
When Sarah and Paul Richards, her first officer when they used to fly commercially together, returned, they switched to a jumbo jet which allowed them to fly all the remaining civilians from the Tower and the Tower Bridge Hotel up to Manchester. The soldiers rode in the Chinooks while the other pilots flew the smaller heli’s.
The Leaders had luckily had the foresight to start setting up safe hubs around the country, but the various problems with Mamba had deflected their focus and they’d only managed to get as far as Manchester airport. They’d given the responsibility for setting things up to an ex-army sergeant called Aaron and given him a small team of soldiers to get things going.
Aaron and his team had found small groups of survivors nearby who had willingly joined them and had been eager to help build a safe refuge. Over the following days, more and more survivors found their way to the airport and a small community slowly developed. The total number more than doubled overnight by the sudden arrival of over six hundred people when the exiled soldiers and their families arrived from Burlington. Aaron took it all in his stride and, following the Heathrow model, had cleared the nearby airport hotels to be used for accommodation.
Then Manchester airport was stretched to breaking point with the arrival of the people from London.
The Leaders understood that the addition of the London survivors would make the Manchester hub unsustainable, and it was only ever meant to be a temporary solution. Within days there were the first signs of resentment from those that had been there from the beginning, despite it being the Leaders who had organised the hub in the first place.
So, over the next few days, the Leaders talked through all the possible options, including setting up another hub at another airport. They even considered flying somewhere overseas, somewhere like the Caribbean where the climate would be better, but they had no idea what they would find or how they would survive. They could easily arrive at their destination and find that the runways were unusable, and they wouldn’t have enough fuel to go anywhere else. The same applied for basically any long-haul destination, so they had to look for somewhere closer to home, somewhere they could scout in advance using the helicopters. Other hubs and destinations could be considered in the fullness of time.
It had been Travis who had come up with the idea of moving lock, stock and barrel to an existing town or village in the Lake District or to one of the Scottish Lochs or islands. After due consideration, the Leaders felt that the Lake District and Scotland was too far North and preferred to stay somewhere more central, especially if they needed to source certain goods and materials or needed to get somewhere quickly. However, they all agreed that Travis’s suggestion had merit.
Poring over a map of the British Isles, they saw that the Peak District was almost in the centre of the country, still close to Manchester and many other large towns and cities like Sheffield, but was sufficiently remote to allow them to set up a new community without interference. They studied the area some more and once suitable places had been earmarked, they had taken the helicopters out to see what the places looked like on the ground. After days of looking, they settled on a small, remote village called Holme, roughly twelve kilometres to the East of Manchester and just inside the Peak District National Park.
Holme was ideal because it was secluded, with only one ‘A’ road going through it and a smaller lane heading North. The village was surrounded by farms and arable fields and had two small reservoirs within a few hundred metres. There was also sufficient housing to cater for as many of the people that wanted to move, a pub and even a small school.
Using the Chinooks, the forward party led by Issy had flown to the village and landed in a nearby field. The soldiers, well-armed onc
e again thanks to Bear and Irish’s exploits, had literally run down the ramps, eager to clear any zombies in the vicinity. There weren’t many because the village was so small, but there were some unpleasant aspects to the clean up, notably when they found a few younger children and their parents who had clearly starved to death in their own homes rather then venture outside.
It had only taken a couple of hours to secure the whole village, then Issy and her men searched all the nearby farms. It was immediately clear that with a few adjustments, they would be able to live a self-sustained life there indefinitely.
Issy had then arranged for the road to be blocked off at either end of the village and sent the Chinooks back to Manchester Airport to ferry across the first load of civilians who wanted to move. Thankfully, they included farmers, electricians, builders, doctors, teachers, and an array of other professions that would be needed to start a new life.
In the early days, the Chinooks were used extensively to ferry equipment, food, clothing, and materials from wherever they could source it. A whole field was set aside to build a solar array, the panels and cables sourced, and the electricians employed to get the electricity working.
Every one of the new arrivals rolled up their sleeves and helped build towards a new community.
The people changed too. Where there had once been a fight or flight mentality, people started relaxing, content in the knowledge that they were safe and free at last.
They set up a large perimeter around the village with wooden and metal spikes pointing outwards to keep out any zombies. They checked these defences every day to begin with, but when they didn’t see a zombie in over a year the checks became more and more infrequent until no one bothered anymore.
Their friends in Manchester witnessed the slow demise of the zombies at first hand; around the time that Holme was set up, which was six to seven weeks after the outbreak started, people started to see more and more zombies crawling rather than shuffling along. Some of the doctors within the community had speculated that the human body simply couldn’t cope without nutrients so, over a period, it would slowly shut down and the zombies would eventually die off. They were right. With no heart pumping blood, the muscles and organs began to atrophy, and the skin dried out until it was paper thin. The blood settled into the lower extremities of the zombies’ bodies, making their centre of gravity far lower. When they fell over, they simply didn’t have the strength to get back up, so they began to crawl. When the body literally started falling apart at the seams, the zombies just lay where they fell, their jaws and eyes still working for a time, but little else. Killing and clearing the bodies became child’s play.
Of course, there was still danger and people still couldn’t fully relax. Everyone still carried the virus, so any death was the potential source of a new zombie outbreak. People had to keep their wits about them and react quickly to erase any threat, although this often meant taking out someone who they knew very well and might even be a friend or relative. There was no room for sentiment.
For that reason, everyone still carried knives wherever they went, and even kept them close when they went to sleep at night. Naturally, people still formed relationships, but they often slept in their own rooms. Older members in the community were monitored even more carefully, but without being too intrusive.
Jack and Sarah were still together and enjoying life. The talk of new hubs and the possibility of venturing abroad had all but gone from their thoughts and they were just content to live life to the full where they were. Jack had been elected the first Mayor of Holme and it was a position he had kept ever since, with no one showing any inclination to stand against him.
Gina and Travis had a two-year-old daughter, who they named Rosie Isobel, and Gina was now pregnant for the second time.
Daniel, Sean, Zak, and Jack Jr all had long term girlfriends who they had met for the first time in Holme, whereas Kyle had hooked up with Shauna.
Isaac and Grace were still together, although their frequent and heated arguments were becoming the stuff of legend.
Nelson was still single, despite his best efforts.
Bear, Irish, Don and Rhys were also single, and although they loved the constant attention from a variety of female admirers, they were all confirmed bachelors. They just had to be more careful than usual if the admirers in question happened to be in a relationship with someone else. It didn’t come as any surprise when they decided to run the local pub between them.
Ahmed and Ayla were also still together and were expecting a baby son. After weeks of discussion and research, they had finally settled on a name which they could both agree on; Basir, which meant ‘wise’. Basir had been one of the few brothers that Ayla had really loved, and both she and Ahmed realised that the original, kind, gentle person, who hadn’t been the sharpest tool in the box, had inadvertently been shaped into something he wasn’t because of the world in which he lived and the people who influenced him. They often debated the question of nature or nurture and guessed they would find out for themselves over the next few years. They wanted their Basir to grow up and be a constant reminder to everyone that even good people could turn bad under the right circumstances, and vice versa. No one knew this better than Ahmed.
The village was slowly expanding and growing into a town, with regular new arrivals. The tradesmen had their work cut out building new homes to meet demand.
Every year the village held a day of remembrance for fallen friends and colleagues. The Major, Joel, Dave, Tom, and many others were never far from their thoughts and a memorial had been constructed in one of the fields set aside as a cemetery. They even remembered Sully and Volkan and other old enemies. The one person that no one mentioned, except Issy, was Mamba.
The village kept in close touch with Manchester airport, but less so with Whale Island. Over the years they had encountered other like-minded groups and settlements spread all over the country, all of whom were happy to help if asked, or trade for different items or materials.
The cities and large towns were effectively no-go areas, teeming with violet gangs all vying for control of the squalor and dereliction surrounding them. Every now and again, Issy would reach bursting point and need to let off some steam, so she would fly a team of like-minded individuals on Chinook sorties into Manchester, Huddersfield, Rochdale, Leeds, Sheffield and surrounding areas to do what she called ‘pest control’ and gather whatever supplies they could find. Their firepower was far too much for these gangs and the gangs soon learnt to disappear like rats down a drainpipe whenever they heard the giant machines approaching.
All the original Leaders believed that Mamba would be in the thick of it, somewhere in London, if he wasn’t already dead.
As for the rest of the World, they had very little information and even less inclination to find out what was going on. They were sure that relationships with other countries would develop over time.
75
Issy was dragged from her memories by a cold metal blade pressing against her throat, a thigh behind her head and an arm snaking over her left shoulder to grab her right breast. She hadn’t heard or sensed a thing.
Her eyes sprang open, immediately seeing an upside-down Mamba staring back down at her, a smirk on his face
“Hello Cobra, it’s bin a while.”
She automatically reached for her knife.
“Don’t!” Mamba snapped, the smirk disappearing.
Issy froze. There was little she could do at the angle she was lying.
“Ya bin a hard bitch ta find.”
“Mamba,” Issy said, sadly.
She knew this day would come eventually, but she had always imagined it would be in London with her on top.
“That’s me name, don’t wear it out.”
Issy had hear that phrase before and it took her a few seconds to work out that she’d heard it from Ernie’s lips back in Corsham.
She glanced around and saw two black-clad figures on the opposite bank of the stream. She didn’t
need Mamba to tell her who they were. Even if she lived to be a hundred years old, she would never be able to forget Faruk and Ismet and the darkness that seemed to emanate from them. An involuntary shiver went down her spine. She believed she could handle Mamba, but these two…she now regretted that she hadn’t stuck to her guns and hunted down these bastards all those years ago.
“So, how ya bin keepin?” Mamba asked genially, with a trace of humour in his voice. “Yer lookin’ good. Very tasty. No piercin’s ‘n all this long blond hair, I almost didn’t recognise ya.”
“Fine. You? I see you’re still hanging around with the same old scum.”
“All good. The twins wanted ta come along ta watch. They’re hopin’ I’ll let ‘em play wiv the leftovers.”
Issy shuddered.
“How did you find me?”
“Asked ‘round. Cut a few throats. The usual. I bin here watchin’ ya fer a few weeks now, lookin’ fer a pattern. Ya really shouldn’t keep comin’ here on yer own. Far too easy a target. Yer gettin’…what’s the word?”
“Complacent.”
“Yeah, complacent.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to pay me a visit.”
Mamba laughed.
“I tol’ ya I’d never let it go, Cobra. Remind me. What was it ya called me all those years ago?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I think ya do. A ‘fuckin’ muppet’ wasn’t it?”
“Is that all? I must’ve been in a good mood.”
Mamba laughed again.
“Still the same, I see. How’s the Princess doin’?
“She’s good.”
“And Ayla?”
“Yeah, she’s good too.”
There was a brief pause.
“Aren’t you going to ask about Ahmed?” Issy asked.
“Careful, Cobra,” Mamba threatened.
“Or how him and Ayla are fucking every night like a pair of loved up teenagers.”
