Simon looked up at me now, his eyes moist. “Just as he was about to climb over the edge, he looked back. There was a woman walking out of the house. It was his mom. I met her at a social a few months back so I know it was her. I don’t know what Ben was thinking because the woman had clearly turned. Maybe he just saw what he wanted to see. Anyway, he shouted her name and before Dave could grab him, he dropped his weapon and jumped down and went back to her.”
We listened appalled, as he finished his story. “I think when he got halfway across the front garden he suddenly came to his senses, because he hesitated and stopped. But by then, because we’d been distracted and stopped firing to help him, and Shawn had stopped moving the tractor so that he could climb up, the zombies had broken through.
They got between us and they trapped him. Dave started firing again but by then there were just too many of them. Ben had his back to his mom and was kicking out at the rest to keep them away so he didn’t see her until she grabbed him and bit into his neck. The last thing we heard was him calling for her as she pulled him to the ground.”
He sighed. “There was nothing we could do. I threw a grenade at the spot where he’d fallen. I knew he’d rather be blown to kingdom come rather than become one of those things. For fuck’s sake, I think we all would.”
He looked round at us all, smiling bleakly. “And here we are. One down because of some stupid mistake. He was a fucking good Marine!”
One dead, one new arrival.
We were still twenty-one.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The baby was called Sarah and was the usual bundle of cuteness that only a six-month-old baby can be. She had a head full of black hair, and judging by the volume of her crying, was in good health. Hungry but healthy.
Louise came over. “She needs food. We’ve given her water and changed her but she isn’t really going to be happy until she’s had a bottle.”
I looked at everyone. “Any suggestions, guys?”
Straightaway, Vicky said, “There were a few babies on the base. I know where they lived so I could show you. There should be bottles, food and nappies in the houses.”
“Great. Let’s get going. Who going to come with us, Simon?”
He thought for a moment. “After the shit that happened with Ben, the only way we’re going to accomplish anything is by using maximum force to ensure mission success. I say we take every shooter we’ve got in the hope that we’re able to maintain control over any situation we get ourselves into. There’s no point in doing anything half cocked; it’ll only end up with more of us getting killed until there’s none of us left. All or nothing, I say.”
Chet said, “Someone needs to stay and protect the ones up here.”
Maud put a stop to the discussion. “We don’t need protecting up here. They can’t reach us. Everyone who needs to go, go and get some food for that poor baby. I’ll stay here and look after the children. Just make sure you all come back safe.”
Louise and I fetched the shotguns and Shawn was given Ben’s rifle. Chet wanted to come too and grabbed the .22 rifle.
The soldiers still had their own assault rifles and sidearms. Noah, Daniel and Aggi also volunteered to come.
Although all we had to offer them was the zombie spears, we figured the more the merrier, and they climbed into the trailer. Vicky agreed to ride in the cab with Shawn so that she could guide him to the houses we needed to get to. As soon as the soldiers had refilled their empty magazines from the ammunition Simon had taken from the armoury, we were ready to go, spurred on by Sarah’s plaintive crying. We left one of the walkie-talkies with the group on the roof so that we could still communicate with them.
It was my first time riding in the trailer, and it did make you feel invulnerable looking down at the zombies, swarming around the trailer, before we set off. While Shawn was helping Vicky into the tractor, we gave the three greenest members of our group a quick lesson in using the spears.
To their credit, they didn’t hesitate to start killing the ones they could reach by leaning over the side of the trailer. Pretty laudable, as I’m sure that three days before, they would never have dreamed of doing anything so violent.
As we approached the first house, Shawn positioned the trailer so that any zombie that approached the front door could easily be speared as it went by. Simon led the way with the four soldiers, checking and clearing the house of its family of zombie occupants. They’d been trapped in the lounge. It wasn’t clear who had turned first, but all that remained of the little girl was her head. After dealing with her parents, who were still feeding on the carcass of her older brother, Simon respectfully placed a blanket over all their remains and shut the door. They’d all known the family.
We used bin liners as carrier bags and hurriedly filled them with as many baby items as we could find. We soon had four bin bags’ worth of nappies, sterilising tablets, bottles, baby food and baby clothes. With no other zombies in sight, we took the time to search and strip the house of anything else that might prove useful. We quickly emptied the kitchen cupboards and the pantry of any food. It proved to us that as long as we could avoid zombies, getting supplies wasn’t going to be a problem.
Every house in the country would yield a certain amount of food if we were desperate. The supplies we already had would see us through the next few days so we weren’t too worried about it yet, but if it was readily available, it seemed sensible to grab what we could. We could carry a lot of supplies in the trailer.
We hadn’t yet had a serious discussion about the best place to get any supplies we needed. Food was obviously our primary concern, but most members of the group only possessed the clothes they stood up in, so as daft as it might seem, we’d probably have to fit in a visit to a clothes shop soon as well.
It had been a while since Stanley and Daisy had used baby milk or nappies, so I was a bit out of practice, but I knew the few boxes of milk and packs of nappies we had found should last a six-month-old for quite a few days. We agreed that we had enough for the time being and should get back to the roof so that we could give Sarah the milk she so desperately needed.
On the journey back I was relieved to find that there seemed to be fewer zombies around. We’d killed a lot of them on our initial journey through the base and every time we drove through in the tractor more of them were destroyed, either by being run over or stabbed.
The base was relatively isolated, and we thought it likely that the zombies we’d encountered so far had been from the local village.
Hopefully, the base would remain off the beaten track for zombies for the time being, and receive little attention from any from further afield. I knew this situation wouldn’t last, but was grateful for the temporary relief it offered us.
Half an hour later Sarah, full of milk and with a small but hearty belch, fell into a deep sleep. Maud made a cosy bed for her under a tarpaulin shelter which had been quickly and expertly erected by Shawn and Dave. Without even thinking, we all started talking in whispers, casting guilty glances at her if we happened to make too much noise. None of us wanted to be the one who woke her up.
The day was getting on and everyone was exhausted from another day of fighting for our survival. Realising that it was far too late to even contemplate leaving our secure location on the roof, we began to set up camp for the night.
Simon and Dave wanted to return to the armoury so that they could empty it of anything useful. As there were fewer zombies milling around now, they decided to set off straight away. Before that, we formed a chain and passed everything we would need for the night up out of the trailer, in order to make the camp as comfortable as possible. We left a group behind to organise the camp and the rest of us climbed down into the trailer.
All the people who’d been on the previous mission to find baby food had volunteered to come along. The silent bonds of comradeship were already binding us together as a group. We all assumed our previous positions around the edge of the trailer, already feeling like
veterans.
After a few minutes of dealing with the zombies who’d begun to converge around the trailer, clawing at its corrugated steel sides with tedious tenacity, there were no more within reach. Shawn started up the tractor and we ploughed through some stragglers that were trying to block his path. The area around our building was beginning to resemble a medieval battlefield. The ground was strewn with broken bodies and body parts. Many had been crushed flat having been driven over on numerous occasions.
The air was thick with flies and although the smell of decay wasn’t overpowering yet, it wouldn’t take long for the summer sun to change that. That in itself was a good enough reason for us to leave as soon as possible.
The trailer rocked slightly as the large all-terrain tyres rolled over the corpses. As Shawn already knew the way to the armoury, he made straight for it, weaving as he steered the tractor towards as many zombies as he could, to enable us to kill them.
We wanted to prevent them from collecting together in packs. That was when they were at their most dangerous. And of course, Shawn’s mantra about killing as many as we could made sense.
The armoury was a small squat building set back from the other buildings on the base. There were few zombies in the immediate area but there were still plenty following us, advancing steadily.
Feeling reasonably secure, we all stepped cautiously down from the trailer. Half of us stayed outside on guard duty, keeping a careful eye on the approaching zombies. Simon and the others made their way inside so that they could retrieve whatever remained. He’d already admitted that there wasn’t much left, so it was unlikely to take long.
As we watched the zombies getting closer, Chet mentioned that he’d never fired a .22 rifle before, and asked if he could take a few shots at them to familiarise himself with the weapon.
Shawn added that he wouldn’t mind having a go with Ben’s rifle, an SA80, so that he too would be familiar with it.
We told Simon what we were going to do, (we didn’t want him being alarmed by any sudden shots) and let the group on the roof know using the walkie-talkie. As the zombies continued to move closer, Dave offered to show them both how to use the weapons.
Firing from a standing position proved difficult for them and it took quite a few shots for their first targets to fall. The heavier shot from the SA80 caused considerable damage in the case of body shots but the light .22 bullets barely seemed to affect them at all. Only a headshot took them out immediately.
Dave stood beside them and said to no one in particular, “This is the fucking problem, and why we all ran out of ammunition in the first place. It’s bloody hard to get a headshot from any distance if you’re just in the standing position and not steadying the gun against something. It’s even worse if you’re running and turning to fire. Then it’s down to luck.
We’ve been trained to shoot centre mass. Those fancy headshots you see in the movies are virtually impossible. In most of the fights I’ve been in, the amount of ammunition expended per kill is massive, and these fuckers just don’t die easily.”
He shook his head in frustration. “I hate to say it, but out in the field, unless we have complete superiority of firepower and a lot of ammunition, we’re going to be screwed.
In a perfect world and from a nice comfy secure location, any marine should be able to get headshots all day long. But facing a horde of those fucking flesh- eating bastards … well, even the ‘ice men’ among us are going to be a bit shaky. We need to get some new tactics sorted.”
About ten zombies were closing in on us, now only twenty metres away.
I glanced at Shawn, who was becoming increasingly frustrated at how hard it was to kill them. As the range decreased, the kill rate was going up, but it was still taking quite a few shots to kill each one.
Many of them had taken bullets to their arms and legs. Some of them were thrashing frantically about on the ground, while others were still crawling like insects towards us.
“Fuck me,” he shouted, exasperated. “It was easier with the crossbow!”
“What do you reckon, Shawn, shall we do this the old-fashioned way?” I said, drawing my knife out of its sheath.
He looked at me and then at the zombies, who were snarling and stretching their arms out in anticipation. In answer, he grinned, slung his new rifle over his back and unsheathed his knife.
“Everyone watch our backs!” I yelled as we stepped forward. While one of us struck out at the nearest zombie, the other one stood close by to protect him. Whenever there were two close together, we both attacked.
I felt strangely confident and for the first time I was thinking clearly. We knew more about them now, and providing there weren’t too many of them, they were reasonably easy to kill.
I trusted Shawn to watch my back and I knew he felt the same about me. We worked our way methodically through them, dodging outstretched arms and occasionally kicking one away to give ourselves room to deliver that fatal thrust. I felt as if I was standing outside of myself, watching with calm detachment.
Whenever we’d had to fight zombies before, I’d been utterly terrified. We’d been fighting because we had no other choice, because they’d surrounded us and our only option had been to counter-attack. This time was different. We could have climbed back into the trailer and killed them at a safe distance with the spears. But I knew that what we were doing was an important demonstration to the others of what could be achieved against the zombies. About how we could fight them on our own terms, offensively and not just defensively.
As we fought, those thoughts passed through my mind like lightning. Granted, neither Chet nor Shawn had been familiar enough with their new guns, but still, we’d destroyed more zombies in less time just using our knives.
A knife didn’t jam or run out of ammunition.
We finished up by dispatching the ones lying closest to us who were still alive and still trying to reach us despite their horrific gunshot wounds. Dave walked up to us, awe struck.
He slapped us both on the back. “Fuck me! Simon told me for civvies you were hard motherfuckers, but man, that was like watching an episode of ‘The Walking Dead’! I’m going to have to get myself a better knife. I just don’t think my bayonet’s big enough. Let’s face it, when the bullets run out that’s all we’re going to have.”
We walked back to the trailer and everyone crowded round, congratulating us. The others were still bringing the last few armfuls of stuff out of the armoury. The pile on the floor didn’t look very impressive at all.
“Is that it?” Chet asked, taken aback.
Simon shrugged. “I told you there wasn’t much left after the base commander loaded up the lorries and went off to the rescue. We’re mainly a training base, not a firing range, so we didn’t have much in the way of ammunition or spare weapons to start with.”
He thought for a moment. “I suppose I never really thought about it. My job was to make sure that the men in my unit had enough ammunition for whatever task they were carrying out, and that their weapons were in good order.
On active service, you carried as much as you could and if you expended it, there was always more to be had. But back home, apart from the firing ranges, you just had your basic ammo load. The amount available was never an issue, because apart from the ranges, you never had to use any.
There must be warehouses full of it somewhere, but I’m buggered if I know where.”
The pile consisted of five metal ammunition cans. Each one was stamped to show that it contained one thousand rounds. There were various other boxes containing different calibre bullets, a small pile of tactical vests and some pistols in holsters. Two shotguns leant up against it all. It wasn’t a very impressive haul, but then again, it was more than we’d had ten minutes before.
Dave spoke up, “As I said before, there’ll be a few places around the base, and there are plenty of weapons on the ground around here, so we can pick those up. But if the whole country’s been affected in the same way, there won’
t be enough guns or ammunition to make much of a difference. We can’t fight them all so we’re going to have to get to this castle and see if it’s as good as you say it is. As long as we’ve got enough weapons to clear that place out when we get there what else do we need?”
“You know me, Dave,” said Simon, frowning, “I can never have enough ammunition if I’m going out there. Those crazy bastards next to you might prefer using their knives up close and personal, but until I run out of bullets, I plan to keep my distance from those flesh-eating fuckers.”
Dave looked at Simon, smiled and whispered loudly, “Pussy!”
Simon laughed, “Absolutely, mate. How else am I going to stay alive? My foolproof plan is to hang back and for once in my life, let you do the work. I’ve been carrying you for years.”
Their good-humoured banter calmed things down. With nothing else to be had from the armoury, we quickly loaded up the trailer with our bounty and headed back to the roof, killing as many zombies as we could on the way.
Epilogue
On the roof we were greeted by delicious smells from the camping stoves Maud had set up.
Once again, using only the limited supplies we had available, she’d managed to conjure up an excellent meal. She waved off our attempts to thank her, simply saying, “I told you I’ll never be any good at fighting them, but I’m damn sure no-one’s going hungry in the meantime. And I can look after all the children. I always wanted to be a Grandma. Richard was too selfish to want children …”
It didn’t matter who you were. You could always make a difference. Maud’s contribution made the group stronger. I’d also seen her in action and if it came to it, I was pretty sure she’d fight like a lioness protecting her cubs.
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 18
