When Dave reported the last zombie had disappeared from view, following the now distant barking of a dog, everyone continued hauling the mass of equipment from the house and onto the bus. They realised that even though they had a lot of survival food stored from their prepping hobby, more would not go amiss. As soon as the bulk of the stuff was on the bus, Ian Jamie and Alex started breaking into the neighbours’ houses and taking what they could find.
After kicking the door in of a house which was still locked a few doors down, and discovering the family had turned, but were still inside, they only entered houses where doors were left open, indicating it was empty. Axes and swords soon ended the threat, but so many houses were left unlocked that the risk of entering a locked one was not worthwhile.
Walking out of the door holding two bags, Geoff declared that they’d probably got everything worth having. He asked them all to do a last sweep of their rooms to check for anything missed, and said they might as well get back to the church.
“Can I hear that dog again?” asked Dave. The sound of a dog barking could again be heard. It was coming from a different direction, but appeared to be getting closer.
“There it is!” exclaimed Jon, pointing towards the other end of the street. The dog stood looking in all directions as if unsure of what direction to take. It turned the way it had come and barked again. It was a large brown dog, and although it was too far away to ascertain the breed, it looked to be a Labrador. Ian put his fingers to his mouth and emitted a loud whistle. The dog’s ears pricked up at the sound and its head immediately turned in their direction.
It began running towards them as soon as it figured out where the whistle had come from. Squeezing through the gap between the house and the van, it jumped up to Ian, wagging its tail furiously. It was a male chocolate Labrador, and it was huge. Ian crouched down to pet him more and the dog knocked him over, licking his face, his wagging tail and making his whole body shake with happiness.
“I’ve always wanted a dog,” Ian spluttered between licks. Everyone was smiling at the scene.
“At last, someone who likes you,” laughed Geoff, “A big fat lab for a big fat, ugly bastard. You’re a perfect match.” The dog had distracted them all.
“Shit. The daft bugger has led them straight back here,” shouted Alex. The street where the dog had come was filling with zombies. Suddenly serious again, Ian scrambled back to his feet and assessed the situation.
“They’ll be on us before we can get the vehicles moved. Grab your weapons, boys, we’re going to have to thin them out to get through them. Crossbows, pikes and hand weapons, everyone.”
The last items to be loaded on the bus were the weapons. The crossbows they kept in the house as part of their prepping had all been assembled earlier, and every bolt they could find put into quivers, ready for instant use. Instantly organised, everyone grabbed what they needed. Marc handed out the pikes from the back of his van, and then reversed it slightly to create a large enough gap for them to walk through.
Ian, who had issued the first command, was now in charge. They stood in a loose line outside their house, facing the hundreds of zombies shambling towards them. The dog stuck close to Ian, growling and barking.
Emerging from the protective shield provided by the bus and the van, they had been spotted, and the volume of the groans and wails increased.
“Crossbows ready! Start dropping them.” The weight of armour they were encumbered with made the job of cocking and fitting a bolt into a crossbow harder than normal. The five friends, being more used to the equipment, were faster than Jon, Alex and Marc, and soon the first bolts were flying towards their targets.
Wearing a heavy suit of armour made aiming from a standing position difficult, but the zombies were packed close together. The first shots hit, but no head shots were scored, so although the undead staggered from the force of the bolts, they kept coming. By the time the first crossbow was reloaded, the distance was down to thirty yards. Simon was the first to fire and he hit one straight through the eye; it dropped instantly. The ones behind it fell over the cadaver, creating an obstacle which held that part of the horde back. More of them blindly fell over the obstruction in their eagerness to taste human flesh.
The closer they got, the more killing shots were made, causing more blockages. The zombies slowly staggered around them like a sluggish tide around a rock on a beach, and continued on. What had started out as a packed, terrifying horde began to stretch out. Instead of one solid mass, there were now spaces between them.
“One more volley, then grab the pikes. Come on, we can do this,” Ian screamed. From eight shots, four more were downed. The others walked on, with the short bolts tipped with coloured flights sticking out of various parts of their corpses. Crossbows were slung across shoulders, and pikes grabbed. It took two hands to wield a shield, so they were kept on the ground, close to hand for when they would be needed.
“Jon, you stand back and keep watch on our flanks and our back, same idea as at the church.”
“Gotcha, mate,” he replied.
“Raise your pikes!” Ian commanded, “Two paces forward and let’s start killing the bastards.”
The two paces brought the pikes within range of the pack leaders. Proper pike drill took years to master and apart from Marc, who had been using one for years, the first thrusts didn’t kill, but struck the necks, chests or arms of their intended victims. The thrusts didn’t kill, but at least it was holding the zombies back, stopping them from getting closer.
Straining and grunting, the men yanked the pikes out of the bodies and thrust again. The pile of corpses started to grow, but the horde was large and the line of attackers small. The zombies began to spill around the sides, threatening to outflank them.
“Step back, watch your sides,” Ian grunted though thrusts, “Jon, grab our shields.”
Jon turned and threw his pike back towards the house. Picking three shields up at a time, he quickly threw them back too. Then he ran to the sides, bravely hacking at the heads of the zombies outflanking them. The inexorable tide kept coming. Every step back they took added more to the kill count, but they were too few, and the horde too great to stop.
When Jon bellowed, “More coming from behind,” they knew they were defeated and the only option was to retreat back into the house.
“Back to the van. Shield wall!” Ian ordered. As soon as the command was issued, everyone disengaged, turned and ran the ten yards back to the van. Pikes were thrown through the gap they had used to exit, shields grabbed and hefted.
They turned to find the zombies were nearly on them. Before Ian could react, the lead one grabbed him and bit down on his arm. Not having had time to draw his weapon, he kept smashing his other mail clad hand at the zombie’s head, but he could not dislodge it.
The dog, which had been barking and snapping at anything close to him, leapt up at the zombie, his huge jaws clamping onto its face. The dog’s weight dislodged it, knocking it to the floor. With a last snap, the dog ran back between Ian’s legs, where he continued barking. Wiping a few teeth away that were sticking out of his armour, he raised his shield to join the end of the shield wall the others had formed.
It was impossible, no matter how many they killed and how high a wall of bodies they formed, hacking and stabbing, destroying brains with every strike, they kept coming, crawling over the wall of undead, their teeth snapping and arms reaching out to claim the next victim.
The sweating, panting, swearing, shield wall was pushed back, inch by inch, blood, gore and brains coating blades, shields and armour.
“Hold them at the gap. Marc, you go first and start the van. As soon as we’re through, block the hole.”
“Push back on my command,” Marc shouted. “I’m pulling back in three, two, one.”
At the count of one, they utilised their well-practised push-back manoeuvre. This gave them the few feet of space they needed for Marc to pull back from the shield wall and give them enough time to close
ranks again, forming a solid wall of metal-embossed wooden shields once more. Marc slipped through the gap and started the van.
The seven fighting men now found themselves in a semi-circle, the shield wall hard up against the van on one side and the house wall the other. The weight of the undead pushing against them increased as they compressed together, trying to reach them. Arms reached over grabbing at helmets. The shouts and screams of anger were now tinged with an edge of fear, as they ducked and dodged the clawing, searching fingers. Only Jon in the centre of the wall had room to swing his hand axe, the others pressed shoulder to shoulder, unable to gain the room to free their arms and swing.
“Fuck me, lads, we need to get inside now. This isn’t fun anymore,” shouted Ian. He was stamping on the head of a zombie that had been knocked to the floor and was trying to reach under the shields.
“Jon, you go next.” Jon pulled away and darted through the gap. He immediately appeared again, standing on the roof of the van, holding a pike. His angle from up on high made it easier to stab at the heads of the zombies and after a few minutes the pressure on the shield wall was released enough to allow Dave to disengage and retreat through the gap. He too scrambled up onto the roof of the van, and with another pike, started to kill the ones in the crowd nearest to his five friends.
The dead ones all remained upright, held there by the crush of bodies, unable to fall, but also unable to do any more harm. Not having to avoid the arms reaching over his shield, but still using all his strength to hold them back, Ian had the chance to look around and assess the situation. He was closest to the wall, and therefore the gap that led to safety. Simon was at the other end, tight up against the van, with Jamie, Alex and Geoff the middle men.
“Simon, when you can, step back and you three fill the gap. Then you next, Geoff. Then Alex. Jamie, once Alex is through, we’ll back through and hold them back until Marc moves the van and closes the gap.”
One by one, they backed through the gap until Ian, with Jamie using his shield against his back to hold him up, backed slowly through the gap. The second he was clear, Marc shouted to Dave and Jon to hold on, and he slammed the van forward, crushing six zombies against the wall, blood spraying over the windscreen.
Dave and Jon, who had thrown themselves to the roof of the van at Marc’s warning, lowered themselves down and the eight stood in a tight group, wide-eyed, faces streaked with sweat and splashes of blood. They stood there, staring at each other, not believing they had lived through the terror of the last minutes.
“Inside,” gasped Ian, “We need to get all this blood and shit off us fast. We don’t know if it will infect us or not.” Panicked by the thought, they all rushed inside and emptied the cupboards in the kitchen to find spray cleaners and disinfectants to clean themselves up as quickly as possible.
A few minutes and a few rolls of kitchen towels later, they were satisfied that they’d removed the zombie blood from all their exposed skin.
“What now?” asked Simon, “We’re stuck in here and all of our kit is out in the bus.” Looking through the front window of the house, they were relieved to discover that the van and the bus were still holding the mob back, leaving the small area outside the door clear of the infected.
If they were, as they feared, trapped in the house, they would need to get essential supplies and equipment back from the bus. Geoff retrieved his list from his pocket and quickly ticked off items they would need. Weapons and food came first. The first priority though, was to make sure no zombies could crawl through any gaps or holes around the vehicles. Before going outside, they rushed through the house, dragging chairs, wardrobes and any other items of furniture they could use, near the front door to reinforce their defences.
The raspy groans and growls from the hundreds of zombies forcing themselves against the vehicles was deafening. They knew the men were inside, it was pointless trying to be quiet, so as soon as they opened the door, they ignored the noise and dragged everything outside and filled the gaps under the vehicles, and at other potentially weak points.
Satisfied they had done the best they could, they took what they needed from the bus. The rocking caused by hundreds of bodies pushing against it was disconcerting, but forming a human chain, what they needed was soon unloaded and the friends trooped back into the house.
“That didn’t go to plan,” Ian said as he sat on one of the few remaining chairs in the kitchen. Jumping up, he said, “Where is that dog? Did you see him get that zombie off me? It was amazing.” Dave, who was leaning against the doorframe, said, “You have to see this, he’s in the lounge.”
The huge dog was fast asleep, lying on his back, legs in the air with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Sensing he was being watched, he opened his eyes, and with his tail wagging, squirmed to make himself more comfortable, letting out a large and obnoxious fart in the process.
Crying with laughter and gagging from the smell, everyone retreated to the fresher air of the kitchen.
“Ian!” laughed Simon, “that can only be your dog, at last we’ve found something with a worse arse than Beaver. They’re made for each other.” Ian, trying to look indignant, replied, “That dog saved my life earlier, and I will not have a bad thing said about it. No matter what any of you say, he is staying. He saved us all by leading them away.”
Jon interrupted him, “Aye, but the daft mutt led them straight back to us, remember.”
“Yep, it has about the same level of intelligence as Beaver, then,” said Geoff, “They should get along brilliantly. What are you going to call him?” Ian mused for a while.
“Horace! He’s definitely a Horace. That’s what I’ll call him.” There was a general consensus that Horace was a stupid name, but Ian stuck to his guns. He confirmed it when he shouted out the name and the dog eventually, when it had removed itself from the sofa, ambled slowly into the kitchen and sat with his head resting on Ian’s lap and went back to sleep.
“Look!” he said triumphantly, “Horace it is. Look at him, he is like a coiled spring, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.”
The situation outside the front looked hopeless, the zombies were showing no signs of moving and continued to push against both the van and the bus. Simon and Alex checked out the rear of the property. The garden, being surrounded by a brick wall, was secure, but the alleyway that led between the rear of their gardens and the ones on the next road was full of them. There was no way out that way.
The group did not despair. They’d fought against hundreds of the undead and survived. They had food to last for at least a few weeks and they were in a secure house.
They all agreed that the best course of action was to remain as quiet as possible and to hunker down and see what the next few days brought. It was their only realistic option.
As darkness fell, the group moved into the rear living room and settled down.
Ian was last in. He was carrying a few bottles of whisky and a pack of cards.
“Who’s for a Poker marathon? I am going to kick all your butts into the ground and empty your wallets.”
They now numbered eight and a dog.
Chapter fifteen
DARTMOOR
Tiredness eventually broke the group up and they moved inside. The ladies claimed the comfy sofas and armchairs, while the men picked an area of the floor to sleep on.
Simon and Dave organised the guard rota, deciding it would be safer to patrol in twos. The company would keep the sentries more alert and if any zombies found them and possibly breached the perimeter, the adage ‘safety in numbers’ made the precaution a sensible one.
Despite everyone’s protests, Maud insisted on being included in the guard rota.
“I don’t care what you all say. I am part of this group and I still have eyes and ears that work. I love cooking and caring for the children, but if me keeping guard for an hour or two allows one of you to get much-needed rest to keep your strength for fighting, then I am helping to keep us safe too.”
The protests stopped when, to the amazement of all, she walked over to where the guns were propped up against a wall. She picked one up and deftly performed the safety drill, picked up a loaded magazine and inserted it into the rifle and with a pull, charged the rifle and slung it over her shoulder.
“We were not just cooking, you know. I got young Jim to show me one end of a gun from the other earlier. Come on, Willie, you can accompany me on the first shift.” She looked around at the bemused faces staring at her.
“The rest of you get some sleep.”
“Young lady,” Willie said, chuckling, “it would be my honour to accompany you.” Swiftly donning his coat, he picked up his shotgun, linked his arm through hers and they walked out of the door.
As soon as the door was closed, Becky said in a mock whisper.
“Well I think we know who the true leader of this group is.” Simon threw the list he had just drawn up into the fireplace and snorted in mock disgust.
“Bloody leader or not, I have to do the blinkin’ rota again now!”
The temptation to stay asleep in the morning as the first rays of sunlight shone through the window of the cottage was strong, but I knew the ten more minutes’ sleep my body craved wouldn’t help, so reluctantly I went to the kitchen and putting the kettle on the gas stove, made myself a coffee. The smell of fresh filter coffee slowly started to wake the others, who yawning, groaning and stretching aching muscles, gathered one by one around the kitchen table.
Soon the delicious smells of bacon cooking filled the room as Maud and Jim made a mound of butties, which we all feasted on. Sarah, after a trying day being shaken around in the trailer, had had a full night’s sleep and was in a happy mood, her giggles and laughter as Willie played peek a boo with her making everyone smile.
The first priority of the day was to complete the repairs and improvements to both vehicles. The tractor and trailer needed only minor improvements to reinforce what had already been constructed. On the other hand, upon surveying the damage to the Volvo, we decided that the best course of action would be to completely remove what Shawn had built and, using the same principles, improve it.
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 30
