He was struggling with how to design, build and mount a fully rotatable cupola on the roof, though. I attempted to steer the excitable, chatting group as they stood staring at the problem, back onto a more sensible course, but got drawn into the discussion and soon began chipping in with my own ideas.
It took a stern warning from Becky, who had noticed the lack of work going on, to drag us back to the here and now and remind us we still had the basics to complete.
The sound of cutting and drilling and sawing filled the air again. Dave transmitted over the radio that the zombies were in sight, not in numbers to worry about and the firing would begin soon.
The first shots made us stop and listen. The cracks of single rifle shots and the booms of shotguns sounded controlled and not panicked, indicating that Dave and Simon had the situation under control. With complete faith in them, we continued working.
Ten minutes later, Dave reported that they had eliminated them all and were on their way back and reported an ETA of fifteen minutes.
I looked at my watch. It had just passed midday and we had achieved so much already. Okay, we’d been up and about since sunrise at about five am, so we’d already worked a virtual full day, but still, it once again showed what teamwork and cooperation could achieve.
Stanley’s excited voice crackled through the radio, telling us that the patrol was in sight.
“Come on, everyone,” I said, “Lets open the barricade and welcome them back, I think we deserve a breather for a few minutes.”
I turned the generator off and once the ones on patrol had made their weapons safe under the watchful eye of Simon and Dave, and leant them up against the side of the church, they joined us in the shade cast by its high walls, grabbing bottles of water from a few boxes a thoughtful person had got from the church.
As everyone sat, Simon and Dave remained standing and walked into the centre of the circle the group had naturally formed.
“Well done, guys.” Simon began, “let’s spend a few minutes on an informal after-action report. As far as I’m concerned, you all did great for first timers. You all maintained good gun safety generally.”
He looked at the Vicar.
“Even you, Vicar, got the hand of not pointing the dangerous end at anyone eventually.”
The vicar smiled and everyone who’d been on the patrol chuckled.
“Thank you, Simon. I forgive you for the profanities you kept shouting at me to remind me, but next time can you keep the good Lord out of it, please?”
“Deal, Vicar. Unless, of course, you decide to point a rifle at me again when I don’t not know if it’s loaded, or if there’s a round in the chamber, or whether the safety might be on or off. Things like that make me forget about being nice. And trust me, Vicar, I was being nice to you earlier.”
He waited for the sniggering to subside.
“Anyway. Let’s put that aside. You cannot expect to get it right all the time. That’s what training is for, so it becomes second nature to you. The bollocking I gave the Vicar was for the benefit of all of you. Trust me, you will all make that mistake and my job is to minimise that and to keep you all safe. He was just the first one I spotted doing it. As for the rest of the patrol: good job. You listened, you never got sloppy and you never hesitated when killing the few we found here and there.
“Marksmanship is something that will come with time. That was the first time most of you have fired a gun and the proof is, you got them all. Neither Dave, nor I or any other of the more experienced shots, fired our weapons in support when they approached. I’m sure you’ll be called upon to use your weapons again soon, and the next time you’ll find it easier and your accuracy will improve. Overall, well done, now take ten minutes and then go and strip and clean your weapons as we’ve shown you.”
We were still forty-three and a dog, but a more confident forty-three. As for the dog, he was yet to wake up and was lying in the shade of a tree.
Chapter Eight
Refreshed from the short break, we continued working on the vehicles, determined to get the work done before the end of the day, which would enable us to leave the following morning.
With many more willing hands, the pace of the work picked up even more.
The children were released from lookout duty in the spire and were allowed to run around the churchyard to get rid of their pent-up energy. Horace, the labrador, briefly roused himself to join in with a game of football until apparent exhaustion once again drove him back to the shade of the nearest tree to recover.
Simon spent some time admiring the work that had been done so far to what he was calling ‘his’ Defender, before sitting down with Shawn and a variety of fittings and clamps we’d scavenged from the farmers’ supply shop to try and make a mount for the light machine guns.
By late afternoon we were the proud owners of five heavily armoured zombie-proof vehicles. A few of us were still working on them, because improvements could always be made and as we had so much material available, it seemed a shame not to use it. The rest of the group, organised by Becky and a few other women, changed focus to loading the vehicles for the journey tomorrow and deciding who would travel in what vehicle.
We reckoned the trailer, with its impregnable high sides, was still the safest transport we had. It was the obvious place for the most precious and vulnerable of the group to travel. Obviously that group was the children, overseen by Maud, and Nicky, who we now knew was pregnant.
The two vehicles that were the easiest to exit from, were the bus and now also, following Shawn’s alterations, the trailer. The knights would be split between these two vehicles with the plan forming that they would be the first to ‘put feet on the ground’, as it were, and protected by their armour and weapons and the rest of us with guns, create a perimeter to enable others to disembark.
The bus looked formidable. It would provide more comfortable transport for a lot of people and still be able to transport a large quantity of supplies. It had a wedge at the front and back and was surrounded by steel sheeting.
We had decided to only fix a wedge to the front of the van. It would carry a portion of our supplies but would have space for more should we find any. Leaving easy access to the rear by not fixing a rear wedge would enable it to be loaded quickly.
Even though the work done to the Land Rover was roughly the same as my Volvo, it just looked a lot cooler. Even though I did try to remain loyal to my trusty Volvo, I did find myself casting an occasional envious glance in its direction.
Shawn and his friends loved it. As preppers, they told us they’d given a lot of thought and discussion time to what would make the best Bug Out Vehicle, or BOV. A Land Rover was always top of their list and they often admired pictures others posted on forum sites showing off their own vehicle.
They assured us that any of our vehicles, but especially the Land Rover, would be the centre of attention at any preppers’ convention or meet. The fact that we could now ignore any laws or regulations governing the condition of vehicles allowed on UK roads helped. On a normal day, if we tried to drive any of our vehicles on the roads, we would find ourselves quickly in trouble with the police.
Now the only things trying to stop us would be the undead.
Bob and Dave had yet to go on patrol as they had been helping with the vehicles, so Simon took them out, along with a few others, to give them some experience. Shawn insisted on joining them, saying he hadn’t had a chance to try fighting any zombies, wearing his armour yet, and he wanted to get used to the feel of it again.
Much to his friend’s amusement, which they tried very badly to hide, Louise helped Shawn on with his armour. He spent time explaining what each piece was called and how it should be buckled and stood there as she reached around him attaching them.
Ian couldn’t contain himself anymore and walked over holding an item in his hand. He got her attention and handed it to her.
“Louise, I don’t think he had one of these in his kit bag. It’s very important
that he wears it, we all do when we’re fighting.”
She looked at what he’d handed her. It was a cricket box. (A shaped plastic cup, edged in padded leather, designed to protect your private parts when batting in cricket). Handing it back, she kept a straight face saying,
“Oh, don’t worry, Ian, I’ve already made sure his is in the right place.”
She held it in two fingers and extended her arm to let it dangle in front of Ian’s nose.
“Anyway, this must be yours because it’s far smaller than the one Shawn has. I can’t imagine it’d fit anyone else either, so you may as well have it back.”
Completely beaten again and with nowhere to go from such a good put-down, all he could do was accept the dangling box and walk back to his mates, enduring the laughter of them and everyone else who’d heard the exchange.
Simon handed out rucksacks to all who were going on the patrol, explaining that they might as well use the opportunity to gather more supplies. On the previous patrol they’d discovered many full cupboards, therefore the patrol would fulfil two aims: to further everyone’s training and to gather extra food that was just sitting there waiting to be scavenged.
The lookout in the Spire reported seeing a few more zombies approaching. We were the noisiest thing around and as long as we remained so, they would always be attracted to us.
Once they were ready, the patrol, after a last equipment check and briefing reminding them about the need for safety and to be constantly alert, scrambled over the church wall and walked across the village green in the direction the zombies were reported to be approaching from.
Soon, the occasional flurry of shots reminded us that danger was never far away.
By the time they returned an hour later, each carrying a bulging rucksack, the vehicles were all loaded, and their contents secured against shifting during the journey. We were ready to go as soon as dawn broke the following morning.
Simon and Dave organised a whole community drill, so people would know what to expect when on the road.
Everyone boarded their allocated vehicles and once the vehicles were full of passengers, it became obvious that some of the contents would need to be shifted around. We practised a few scenarios until we were satisfied we had the best configuration of people and supplies.
We then had everyone practise using the spears and hand weapons to fight imaginary zombies surrounding the vehicles. This highlighted a few minor improvements that would make it easier for the ones on the bus to fight.
The knights then trained on exiting the trailer and bus as effectively as possible.
The bus proved simple. Holding their shields ready, once the door was opened and the metal gate reinforcing them swung back on its hinges, they could exit the bus two at a time and create a shield wall, holding back any threats as more exited from behind to support them. After a few attempts and changes to the tactics, they’d worked out the best way to do it.
The procedure to exit the trailer, on the other hand, needed more work and thought to get it right.
The rear door swung open easily enough and the ramp could be deployed with not much effort. It was when they walked down the ramp, potential problems became obvious. The angle and narrowness of the ramp made walking down it difficult, especially when encumbered with the full weight of their armour. It was hard to swing their weapons or protect each other with their shields until they reached the ground, which meant the first few down would be vulnerable.
When they were clear of the ramp, they could form their defensive wall and fight effectively. With practice this could be done reasonably quickly, and the ramp raised, and trailer door shut, protecting the occupants inside. If the ramp was made wider, it would become too heavy to move quickly and potentially expose the ones left in the trailer to danger.
No easy solution came to mind, apart from not exiting the vehicle at all when there were too many zombies. So we decided to adhere to that policy.
Anyway, from experience, we thought we probably had enough firepower to keep any at bay, without the need to step down from the vehicles and we could always keep moving to find a safer place to stop, if need be.
The light machine guns were mounted on brackets Simon and Shawn had devised for the trailer and much to my jealousy, also for his Land Rover.
It now looked even better.
From their fixed positions, they could lay down an accurate and deadly amount of firepower. The Marines assured us that they alone should be enough to keep us safe, without even considering all the other weapons we had.
The bulk of the work was done, and finding myself as a loose end, I went to find Becky. I wanted to spend some time together, even if it was only a few moments.
Taking her hand, we walked away from the others and sat on a bench in the shade of a tree.
We were far enough away to get some privacy, but still able to view most of the churchyard and all the activity still going on.
The children had stopped running around and were all sitting together under the shade of another tree, laughing and talking as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
Laying our weapons aside, but still within easy reach, I held out my arm and she leant against my chest and we silently hugged for a few minutes, both just taking in what was going on around us.
“This all still seems so unreal,” Becky said quietly, “Occasionally I’ve found myself thinking that this is all a dream and soon I’ll wake up in our caravan at St Agnes and we’ll head off to the beach again. But that life, normal life, now seems so far away and distant that it can’t be a dream. What we’ve done and experienced over…” She stopped and thought for a while.
“How long has it been now, Tom? A week now? I can’t even remember. It’s unbelievable, but what we’re doing now seems normal. Two weeks ago, I was pushing a shopping trolley around a supermarket, rushing so I could make it to the gym class before picking up the kids from school. And now, I’m sitting on a bench in a churchyard watching over my kids, ready to grab a gun and without hesitation shoot in the head what was once a normal person, just like you and me, just so my children can live to see another day. Tell me I’m dreaming, Tom, please.
“I used to get annoyed at other Moms on the school run and their pathetic attempts to drive their stupidly big cars, wishing sometimes I had a gun so I could wreak my revenge. And now, you know what? I have a gun and would probably, without a second thought, use it on them, just because they deserve it. Is that wrong?”
I chuckled.
“And you used to moan at me and my road rage. Just be thankful that school runs are a thing of the past, so you won’t have to.”
She snuggled in closer.
“I don’t think you could write this story. Look at what we’ve done, who we’ve met and what we’ve achieved. It just doesn’t seem believable. If you hadn’t got us out of that campsite, and at the time I went along with it even I thought you were having some sort of breakdown, we would be dead along with millions of others. You knew what to do.”
She was quiet for a few minutes.
“I haven’t said thank you yet. Thank you, Tom, for saving us. I now think we stand a chance to survive and make whatever life we can out of all the chaos that’s happened.”
A few more minutes of silence and quiet understanding passed between us.
I looked across the churchyard and all the activity still going on.
Geoff, Alex and Jamie were holding crossbow instruction for anyone who wanted a go, using a large oak tree as a target. The value of those weapons hadn’t been fully explored, with everything else going on. I’d fought beside Shawn as he’d used his when we thought we were done for at the farm on the moors and it seemed like an age ago now. Up to a certain range, the crossbows were effective and silent killers and all his friends had brought a few each with them and a large supply of bolts, so there were a lot to go around.
Shawn and Jim were still tinkering with the vehicles, all the time adding to the strength and effectiv
eness of them.
Shane and Steve the Marine had now taken Stanley, Eddie and Jim, and Bob’s children Charlie, Bertie and Josh and Victoria’s son, also called Josh, to the church wall and had begun to teach them how to use the .22 rimfire rifles.
While they’d slept last night, we’d agreed it would be a good idea to start their training as soon as possible. The .22 rimfire rifles were amongst the rifles we’d collected from Shane’s gun shop and with their low recoil, they were a great introductory gun to train them on, and a proven zombie killer after using the one I’d got from the farm to great effect. Before I had ‘upgraded’ to a more powerful military grade weapon.
Shane and Steve had volunteered to instruct them. The other parents and I agreed that having a non-family member and relative stranger teaching them would be a good idea and make them concentrate more.
I watched, and they were all listening intently and being as grown up as possible. Not one of them wanted the warnings given to come true, and not be allowed to fire them if they messed about and couldn’t be trusted.
“Becky, darling. I know there’s nothing we can do about it, but do we need to worry about the children? Most of them have already killed their fair share of zombies with the spears and all of them have witnessed sights that wouldn’t be allowed in most horror movies. It must be having a deep and profound effect on all of us, so what will it be doing to the children? They’re killers now. The rules of the world have changed. It’s now acceptable to kill. I’m sure a psychologist will have long and fancy words for it, but I just don’t want it to fuck them up, that’s all. One day some sort of normality may return, and they’ll need to be able to adjust.”
We both watched as the children, under close supervision, began to fire the guns, aiming at the various cars lying abandoned around the village green. Their excitement at hitting something they were aiming at was evident from where we sat.
Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 40
