Using the theory that if it could take his weight, it could take anyone’s, he got Ian, wearing full armour, to climb up it to see if it worked.
Grumbling about, “Getting the fat boy to try it first,” Ian tentatively climbed up the ramp.
It creaked and sagged in the middle but held his weight.
When he reached the top, he got us all laughing as he performed a little victory dance, which in his armour looked more like he was having a fit.
We were ready to go then, so Simon quickly got everyone else he’d chosen to come on the mission on board both the trailer and the Volvo, and we waited while the ones staying behind cleared the barricade of cars out of the way.
Only Bob joined us from the newest additions to the group, because he knew the way. We explained to the others that because they hadn’t had enough experience fighting from the trailer, or any training using the zombie spears, that they shouldn’t come. Besides that, they needed more training to use the guns, and thankfully, they understood and saw the sense in it.
We hoped this mission wouldn’t take too long, and space was at a premium because we were also hopeful we’d be loading a large quantity of supplies, so every person we took along needed to be the most competent we had.
Shawn already had directions from Bob, but if we had to change from the pre-planned route, then Bob’s local knowledge would be vital.
With a final wave, we left the church.
Shawn drove over the one or two zombies that had wandered into the village green overnight on our way out of the village. You couldn’t hear their moans over the noise of the engines, but their lives ended abruptly again as they futilely tried to stop our progress by walking in front of the blood-smeared plough attached to the bucket on the tractor. What was left of them banged against the wedge at the front of my vehicle when they emerged from under the trailer’s wheels.
The farmers’ supplies was on the edge of another village and had obviously not opened on the morning the apocalypse had hit. The gates to the yard were still locked and the place looked deserted.
Simon quickly climbed down from my car and using a pair of bolt croppers, cut the chain locking the gate and slid them open to allow us to drive into the yard, closing it behind us.
Before allowing us to disembark from both vehicles, he and Steve did a full check of the area before declaring it clear of the undead.
I could see from my vantage point standing on the seat of my car that the large yard, with its neat stacks of timber, fencing and all the paraphernalia that a farmer needed to manage his land and livestock, was a treasure trove that would provide us with everything we would need and more.
When everyone gathered together, we started work; everyone apart from Louise, whom Simon had told to stay on the tractor to stand guard for us.
The forklift truck, sitting in an open-sided shed, would make loading a lot easier, but the key was predictably not in the ignition. It was almost certainly going to be locked in an office in the warehouse and sales counter located in a corner of the yard, so three of us grabbed the bolt cutters and went to break open the shutters securing it.
The skylights provided enough light inside for us to see around, once we’d pulled the shutter open and used a sledgehammer we got from the trailer to smash the door open. Easily finding the keys that were on a hook in the manager’s office, we took them outside to help load up.
Simon was standing next to a Land Rover Defender 110 that was in the livery of the company we were in the process of robbing. He was trying the door, but it was locked.
I knew exactly what he was going to say, so I said it for him.
“I’ll go and look for the keys, shall I?”
He nodded with a big grin on his face and pointed to a large twin axle trailer next to it.
“We just found ourselves a new scout vehicle, and if we hook that baby up, we can take a lot more stuff back with us too. If we can work our magic on that too, it’ll give that Chelsea tractor of yours a run for its money.”
“Leave my bloody Volvo out of this will you, it’s got us this far, hasn’t it?” I said as I walked back into the warehouse to find the keys.
The keys still had the Land Rover key ring on them, making them also easy to find. Walking back through the shop, I could see that we needed to take a lot of things that were stored in there too.
The shelves were full of hand tools that would make great zombie killers and boxes of screws, bolts and other fittings that would probably make constructing our Mad Max style vehicles easier.
Then I noticed a small sign above the sales counter, informing customers that shotgun licences must be shown for cartridge purchases.
“Brilliant,” I thought as I went searching for the place where they stored them.
The heavy-duty locked door at the back of the manager’s office proved no match for the long crowbar I took from the shelf. It revealed a large quantity of shotgun cartridges of all weights. Mainly in 12 gauge, but I spotted a few other gauges too.
We had to take them as a priority. Walking outside, I handed Simon the keys to his prize Defender and told him I needed two others to help so we could start emptying the shop too.
The forklift was making the job of loading up a lot quicker and easier than expected. Simon agreed and told Chet and Bob to go with me. Grabbing a trolley each, I gave them a quick idea of what to grab as I headed with my trolley to the manager’s office.
Chet and Bob both did a male version of the hit 90s game show, Supermarket Sweep, loading their trollies with axes, hammers and pickaxes and a plethora of other tools, grabbing armfuls off the racks and dumping them in the trollies as fast as they could before running to the next item they spotted. I took mine to the cartridge store and began to clear that out too.
When the trollies were full, we pushed them as quickly as we could and dumped their contents first in the back of the Volvo, and when that was full up, into the back of the Land Rover.
I couldn’t help myself as I dragged the theme tune from deep in my memory and began to sing it loudly as we continued to fill the trollies. Chet and Bob joined in as they charged around the shop, banging the heavily overloaded trollies off shelves as they failed to make the corners.
Once I’d cleared all of the cartridges from the store, I joined the other two and loaded anything else I could see that was worth taking. From dog food for Horace to work boots and coats, we threw everything we could into the trollies.
Simon, meanwhile, had hooked up the trailer to the Defender and was driving it around the yard, loading as much as he could onto it.
I took him some tie-down straps I’d taken off a shelf, so he could secure the load properly when he’d finished.
We were dripping with sweat and exhausted from all the running around and heavy lifting, but we had done amazingly. Within an hour, we had gathered more materials to armour the vehicles than we needed and had gathered more supplies that would be essential to our ongoing survival.
Another successful trip, but a shout from Louise drew our attention to the fence surrounding the yard. The noise we’d been making had attracted some unwelcome attention. Zombies were beginning to line the fence surrounding it and we could see more coming. Their simple brains couldn’t distinguish between a fence and the main gate. Most of them just pressed futilely against the steel mesh fencing, thrashing their arms against the barrier, biting it in their frustration at knowing we were there but being unable to reach us. A few were at the gate, pushing at it, making it rattle on its runners.
None of us was too concerned. The gate and fences were strong enough to hold them back and we were almost done and would be on our way back before the numbers grew to the level that could cause the fence to be compromised.
Still we decided to err on the side of caution and call it a day. We’d taken more than we needed, and the real work would start when we got it all back to the church. I helped Simon finish strapping down the load to his trailer and then helped the trailer occupan
ts lift the ramp back into place and close the rear door. They had loaded so much onto it, they were almost standing level with the top of the sides and were busy jamming lengths of timber down the sides to try to hold the load steady when they were moving.
Simon and I agreed as we finished strapping the trailer that it would be best for him to travel as the middle vehicle in the convoy, where the two armoured vehicles could help protect him if need be. Common sense, really, but planning ahead had got us to where we were now.
Chet was the last to climb into the Volvo. I could see that by now between fifteen to twenty zombies were clawing at the gate. We had no time to waste, the priority was to get back to the church as quickly as possible, so we could start adapting the vehicles. I picked up the radio.
“We haven’t got the time to mess about and deal with those buggers at the gate by hand. Shawn, stay where you are, we’ll deal with them from the car. Once the gate is open, drive through and cover us as we close it.”
Louise came back immediately. She’d become the tractor’s official radio operator, leaving Shawn to concentrate on driving the Behemoth.
“No probs, Tom, be careful.”
Pulling up to the gate, I stopped at an angle, facing it, and the three of us stood. Simon was now driving the Land Rover. He was adamant that he didn’t want anyone riding shotgun for him as the vehicle didn’t have any protection on it yet and it would only put someone else in possible danger.
We picked up our rifles and took aim. The red dot sights and the range, virtually point blank, made it easy for us. With each shot another zombie fell back from the gate, its head a mess of oozing blood and brains. As soon as the last one fell, Steve jumped down and slid the gate open.
Attracted by the noise and movement, every zombie lining the fence and heading towards it started to shamble in our direction. Steve calmly stood, shooting at the nearest ones as we all drove through one by one until Shawn stopped the tractor and everyone on board joined in to provide cover for Steve as he pushed the gates closed and climbed back aboard the Volvo. The second his feet hit the seat I pipped my horn to indicate to Shawn it was time to leave.
We picked up speed and retraced our steps back to the church.
“It’s pretty much one straight road back to the church from here, isn’t it?” Chet said as he sat down.
I looked in the rear mirror and could see the remaining Zombies following us.
“Yes, mate. There were one or two junctions, but the route is the obvious one to take. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? That in an hour or two, that lot behind will be paying us a visit.”
He nodded.
“Let’s get back first. There didn’t seem to be that many, but you’re right, we can’t forget about them.”
Fifteen minutes and a couple of stray zombies kills later, we arrived back at the church.
With the barricade of cars back in place, we dismounted from the vehicles and began unloading what we’d scavenged.
We were still forty-three and a dog, but we now had an extra vehicle.
Chapter Seven
With everyone helping, apart from the lookout in the steeple, we soon had the materials unloaded from the vehicles. Stacking it all into similar piles to enable us work out what we had, we began.
Dave had continued weapons training while we’d been gone and when we told him our suspicions that we might soon get more unwelcome visitors, he immediately saw the opportunity to take their training to the next level.
They were ready to start learning patrol skills, and the chance to combine that with some live firing at what we reckoned would only be a small number of the undead, was perfect timing.
He called a quick meeting to decide who was going to do what. He wanted to take one large patrol out consisting of all the new arrivals, with the exception of Bob, the policeman and Dave, the villager we’d first seen in the tower, who both claimed to have some mechanical know-how, making them useful to help in adapting the vehicles. He included a few more ‘experienced’ ones, just in case.
Gathering nervously together, they listened as Dave and Simon gave them their last few instructions before they left the safety of the churchyard. All holding either an assault rifle or a shotgun with bags containing extra magazines or cartridges over their shoulder, they set off. The knights looked out of place as they held their shields and chosen weapons in their hands, but now with the addition of a modern weapon slung over their shoulders.
Dave told me he’d thought about getting some of them to bring their crossbows, so he could see for himself how effective they would be, but the need for them to gain experience in handling the weapons from this century overrode his curiosity.
Wincing at the noise the generator made when it started, I looked up at the steeple where I could see the children taking their roles as lookouts seriously. They all stood looking through binoculars, ready to warn us at the first sight of anything untoward. The noise we would be making, cutting and drilling, would make us by far the noisiest target in the area and make us a Mecca for any wandering ghouls.
I couldn’t dwell on it, though. We had a task to complete and limited time to get it done. I had to trust others to do their jobs. The children had radios with them to communicate with both Simon and Dave, who were leading the patrol, and with us. Dave, ever the planner, had given them a rough plan of the village and instructions on how to read it so they could, via the radios, direct them to any sightings. Most of us in the churchyard had pistols in holsters around our waist and our main guns close to hand to protect the perimeter if need be. All in all, we were in good shape.
The churchyard filled with the sound of screeching metal and power tools as we cut, drilled, bolted and welded the framework to the vehicles. It didn’t have to be neat, it just needed to be strong enough to do the job and with the experience we’d already gained, progress was swift.
Starting on the bus first, a team constructed the supports for the wedge at the front, while others stripped some seats out from the inside and removed some of the windows to make areas to stand and fight.
One problem we encountered was that we had more jobs to do and people able to use them than power tools available. Work was stopping as people had to wait for others to finish using a certain tool, which was laying idle by their side most of the time when they put it down to fix a bolt or get more material to carry on.
Calling a halt, I reorganised how we worked. One person, who was the most competent in using a particular tool, was allocated it full time. He or she would then go where they were needed and cut or drill or weld for another person and then move on to the next who needed their help. Others I allocated to rotate around the group and help where necessary, either by holding something while bolts were fitted, or by fetching anything needed.
The improvement was immediate and after a bit of shuffling around as people found the role that best suited them, the pace of work really picked up. Soon metal panels, which I was reliably informed were mobile sheep hurdles, were fixed over all the windows, an escape hatch had been cut in the roof and a ladder fixed for access to it, The wedge was taking shape and looked as sturdy, if not more so, than the ones we’d previously constructed.
When what I considered the basics were complete, I moved some teams over to start work on the van. The plan was to complete the bare minimum i.e. the wedge at the front, window protection and an escape hatch to all the vehicles and then, if time and materials permitted, to return to them and do whatever else we could think of to improve them.
The radio clipped to my belt emitted a loud bleeping to indicate someone wanted to talk. The noise we were making made it impossible to hear anything, so I walked to the other side of the church yard.
It was Dave, updating us on their progress.
They’d patrolled the whole village, slowly working their way out from the centre in widening circles, practising drills and manoeuvres as they went along. They had encountered the occasional zombie, usually trapped in a house o
r car and they’d all had gained real life experience in killing them.
He reported finding plenty of food supplies in most of the houses they’d entered, so that would make it worthwhile planning another trip if time permitted. The idea was worth considering. We had sufficient food now, but there were a lot of us to feed. The plentiful availability of food we had already discussed. The whole country had fallen so quickly to the virus that we knew there should be a lifetime of tinned and preserved foods available from not just households, but supermarkets and the warehouses that supplied them daily. We’d already raided one of the hundreds, if not thousands of lorries transporting all those goods around the country. Finding enough to eat was one of our lesser concerns, but as Shawn had kept repeating his preppers’ mantra from the first time we’d met him: ‘If it’s there, take it.’
If we had the time, and could do it without risk, it was an option worth considering.
They’d found a few pushbikes and he’d send Jim, the Marine, and Noel, the young barman, to scout further afield to see if they could locate the zombies we suspected were heading our way. They had identified a good ambush location on the village outskirts where the road ran between two solid walls, and they were busy training the new recruits on how to reinforce and construct firing positions.
Jim and Noel had been told that if they found them, to lead them to the trap they were busy preparing.
He ended by promising to inform us that they were going to open fire if they appeared, so we wouldn’t be alarmed by the sound of guns firing.
The Land Rover with its simple construction and rugged build made it the easiest to convert. Once a few body panels were removed, revealing the chassis, it was a simple job to fix extra supports to it.
I think the boys had got a little more excited about working on the Defender than the other vehicles and the preliminary design that Shawn was working on would turn it into a fully armoured car, completely encased in mesh panels with a mount for a machine gun.
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 39
