Zombie Castle Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Harris, Chris

The skills they were being taught were not for shooting for fun at targets or tin cans, the things children would usually practise with when first learning to shoot. But rather to end the existence of something that had once lived, but which now wanted to attack any of us to satisfy its hunger for human flesh; and all to keep the virus alive and spreading.

  “Well, Tom,” Becky said with a sigh, “all we can do is keep a close eye on them and keep giving them the chance, when we can, to just be children. To run around and play and forget the world around them.

  And when do you really think this will be over? We need to reach this castle we’re all hoping will provide the sanctuary it promises, and then take it from there. We don’t know how long those things will keep going. Will they rot and fall apart eventually, or will they go on forever? There are millions out there all over the country. We can’t kill them all, just the ones that are threatening us. We could be stuck behind the walls of Warwick Castle for a long time.”

  “Who knows is the answer to that. All we can do is take each day as it comes and keep going. If all goes well, we might even reach Warwick tomorrow, but I doubt it. We’ve got to try and find Louise’s family near Cheltenham and then Steve’s in Worcester first, and who knows how long that will take? We’ll plan the route and all the alternatives tonight, but I imagine it’ll be slow going. Five vehicles won’t travel as fast as two, and we’re restricted by the speed the tractor can go. Two days at best is my guess.”

  I looked at the vehicles. Shawn and Jim were still working on them, using the time to add more fixings or extra bits on here and there. They looked great. Yes, they were not as neat as they could have been if they’d had the benefit of a machine shop and all the specialist equipment it contained. What we’d previously done had been tried and tested and was known to work. Using that experience, they knew what was needed and given the limited time and proper materials, they’d worked wonders.

  They would all protect the occupants and each vehicle would have its own use. The bus and the van would transport most of our equipment and people. The tractor with its weight and power should be able to clear blockages and cleave through zombies. The trailer it towed provided an impregnable fortress and an excellent fighting platform. The Volvo and Land Rover, both heavily protected and modified, could go wherever they were needed; to scout ahead or be agile enough to thin out the undead and provide protection and support for the other vehicles.

  A lot of the materials we had got from the farmers’ supplies shop remained unused. We decided to reload the most useful items onto the trailer we’d already got, and hitch it up again to Simon’s Defender. If we got into any trouble or needed it, it could easily be unhitched and left behind or reattached after we’d finished whatever we were doing.

  We had the radios to communicate with each other to coordinate on the move. Shawn had already said he would keep a lookout for vehicles with citizen band (CB) radios fitted, as they would make communication easier and extend the range. Even with the advent of mobile phones making them obsolete, he knew some truckers still preferred to use them, so he was confident that given time he would find enough for us all.

  We both stood up to join the others, refreshed by the normality of having the chance to sit down and spend time together.

  Everyone else was also finishing their various tasks. The final items were being loaded onto the vehicles, and the children were finishing off cleaning the guns they’d been using. One by one as jobs were completed, the group slowly drifted into church, attracted by the delicious smells of cooking food wafting out of the door.

  Forty-three people and a dog that had now woken up and looked hungry gathered in the church for their last night.

  Chapter Nine

  We waited patiently in our vehicles as the Vicar bustled around, carrying the last few items he wanted to save from the church to the bus. There were no items of real value, but he told us that that if he was going to continue to look after our spiritual wellbeing, he needed the tools of his trade with him.

  Once the last vehicle had left the churchyard, we pushed the barrier back into place and made sure everything was secure. As with the farm on the moors, it had provided us with safe shelter and it would for any others that might come across it if we left it secured. A sign was nailed to the door explaining who we were, where we had come from and where we eventually intended to reach.

  We left a small cache of supplies as a gift.

  Forming the convoy, everyone stood at their allocated positions and watched as the church fell from view.

  Dave, following the map and the route we had marked on it with his finger, gave me advanced warning of approaching turns. The plan was to head to the M5 motorway, which we knew was clear after meeting the soldiers who had come from Cheltenham, and making the best speed we could, then to leave the motorway at the nearest exit to the small village where Louise’s parents lived.

  Maintaining a slow but steady speed, we drove down narrow country lanes. I couldn’t see much from my position at the rear of the convoy, only seeing the evidence from the warnings given over the radio of a vehicle pushed to one side to clear the way, or zombies crushed by one of the vehicles in front or re-killed by a spear as they passed them.

  By the time ones that had fallen victim to the plough emerged from underneath the vehicle in front of me, there was not much left of them. The occasional one would still be thrashing about, even though most of it had been mangled beyond recognition, showing that unless you destroyed the brain, they could still be a threat. I always tried to aim for the head to end another one’s existence.

  An hour later and not encountering anything that gave us a problem, we drove down the slip road and onto the motorway. The way ahead, as we had been promised, was clear and Shawn picked up the speed. Steering around abandoned vehicles, the miles slipped away.

  Louise’s voice came over the radio, stopping our chatter.

  “Slowing down. There is something written on the side of a van ahead.”

  Slowing to a crawl, we followed in a line until a call over the radio told us to stop.

  I pulled out from behind the van to see what was going on.

  A van was sitting across two lanes of the motorway. Writing was crudely sprayed in large red letters along its side.

  ‘ROAD CLOSED. PAY A TRIBUTE TO PASS’

  “What the hell?” I said, “The soldiers didn’t tell us about this.”

  Dave was looking ahead through some binoculars.

  “It may not have been here a few days ago. I can’t see much from down here.”

  He picked up the radio and asked if anyone could see what was going on ahead.

  Shawn came back.

  “The road looks to be completely blocked about a mile ahead, but I can’t make out much more than that. We need to get closer.”

  Simon pulled up beside me and stood on his seat. I did the same, so we could all talk.

  “Dave. It’s time to see if the scout vehicle theory works. Both of us will go and check it out. Leave everyone else here, there’s enough of them to protect themselves.

  These guys, whoever they are, are not military. Who asks for a tribute these days? It’s probably some punks hoping to score some easy supplies from some poor sod.”

  “What happens if they’re a group like us?” Chet asked from the seat behind me, “Do we give them something to let us through?”

  Dave turned to him.

  “I can guarantee they will not be like us. That sign says it all. I can’t tell you how many similar signs I’ve seen in pisspot countries all over the world.

  It will be some local wanna be hard knocks thinking they can get easy pickings without having to work for it. The problem is in most third world countries, those kids carry AK47s so you have to handle it carefully. Here, we haven’t a clue what, if at all, they’ll be armed with. We should do this carefully and let me do the talking.

  “Simon, unhook the trailer and stay to our side to cover us with the gun. Everyon
e else, get your weapons up and ready. We may as well show them we aren’t to be messed with.”

  I looked up at Becky, who was looking at me from the side of the trailer. Stanley and Daisy stood by her side, and they all had worried looks on their faces.

  I waved and mouthed ‘I love you’ at them, then I slid down in my seat and started the car and pulled slowly forward.

  Simon followed slightly behind me and to the side. Jim stood ready, standing on the passenger seat of the Defender, his shoulder pressed against the mounted machine gun, ready to fire if necessary.

  Dave, Chet and Daniel stood on the seats, all holding a weapon visible and ready.

  The closer we got, the clearer it was to make out that the motorway was completely blocked by a barricade of cars and vans. I couldn’t see beyond that from my position in the driving seat, but from Dave’s vantage point standing up, he reported that it looked as if they’d had formed a small fort of cars surrounding a few lorries. Its position by a bridge going over the motorway would make it impossible to get around.

  I saw a few heads looking over the cars facing us as we drew closer.

  Dave had the binoculars pressed to his eyes.

  “I can see a few of them, can’t make out how many there are, but it does look as if they have some guns with them.”

  He chuckled, “Well, with my eyesight they’re either broomsticks or guns, but they’re holding them as if they’re guns, so that’ll do. Let’s assume they’re armed and not particularly friendly. It can only get better from that position.”

  I stopped about fifty metres away.

  A man stood up on the barricade. He held a rifle with the stock pressed against his hip and the barrel pointing up into the air.

  Dave muttered, “Look at the idiot. Does he think he’s fucking Rambo or something? The only thing holding a rifle that way will impress is his own ego.”

  The man shouted something, but the distance made it unintelligible.

  “Pull closer.” Said Dave “When we stop, keep it in reverse and be ready to go if I shout.” And to everyone else. “If you see anyone point a gun in our direction, do not hesitate, shoot them. I do not have a good feeling about this.”

  Three cars lay abandoned ahead, doors open, their contents scattered around them.

  “I’d say from the look of those cars, these boys have met a few others,” Dave muttered quietly.

  Passing the cars, I could see a few bloodstains, but no evidence of bodies.

  Dave signalled me to stop twenty metres from the wall of cars.

  He shouted in a friendly manner.

  “Hello. How are you doing? You seem to have a nice set-up here and we would love to stop and chat, but we need to continue our journey. If you would kindly move some cars out of the way, we will be past and on our way before you know it.”

  The man, who was still standing on the bonnet of a car and holding what looked to be a hunting rifle, stared back at us.

  He was in his early twenties and was wearing jeans and despite the heat, a leather jacket. I think he was taken aback by the intimidating sight of our vehicles, with men standing, some in uniform pointing not just assault rifles and shotguns at him, but a machine gun mounted on the Land Rover.

  He turned and spoke to others hidden behind the barricade, more heads slowly appearing. I couldn’t see any more firearms, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have them just out of sight.

  He seemed more confident now he had more support.

  “Did you not see the sign? We own this piece of road now and in return for us keeping it clear of walkers, you must pay to pass. What do you have to pay us with? If you’re from the Army, then as we’re doing your job, you must give us some of your guns so we can keep helping people.”

  I heard a few snorts of laughter from behind the barricade.

  “I am not authorised to give weapons to non-military people, son, so that’s not going to happen.”

  Dave waved his arm at the cars lying abandoned around us, with their contents haphazardly dumped all around them.

  “And if you’re helping people as you say, what happened to the ones in these cars?”

  “They, er… didn’t want our help and decided to walk from here,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.

  Dave stared at him long and hard.

  “Son, are you going to let us through? I haven’t got the time or patience to get into a pissing competition with you. You will not get any guns from us, full stop. But if you let us through, we can give you some other stuff that might be of use to you.”

  The man, obviously feeling he had the upper hand, despite all the guns pointing at him, replied.

  “No guns, no pass.”

  Dave sat down next to me.

  “He must be off his head on drugs or something if he can’t see the danger that he’s facing. But the problem is, we don’t know what we’re facing either, and I’m not going to risk getting into a needless fight with those idiots. I’m sure we’d win easily, but one of us might get injured or worse. They’re just not worth it. They’re up to no good and any other day I would say we deal with them, but we need to keep moving and not put any of us at risk. I say we turn around and find another route. Just let me check with Simon to see if he agrees.”

  He picked up the radio and explained his feelings to Simon. He also agreed that even though he wanted to teach the young idiot a lesson in manners and humanity using his knuckles, caution would be the best policy.

  Dave stood up on his seat again.

  “Okay, you win. We’ll find another way. Before we go, though. You may think you’re big and hard hiding behind those cars, stealing off whatever poor sods you find. But haven’t you noticed the world has gone to shit and whatever game you think you’re playing will only end badly for you unless everyone starts helping each other.”

  The man laughed at him.

  “Piss off, old man. We can do what we want, and no one can stop us…”

  I couldn’t hear the rest of his words as I reversed the car and turned it around.

  Dave, who had heard the rest of what he’d said, was fuming. He wanted to jump from the car and beat the crap out of him.

  I was trying to calm him down when Daniel, who was still standing on the seat behind me, facing towards the road block as we drove away from it, was thrown backwards, followed immediately by the loud BOOM of a gun being fired.

  His limp body slumped down, and he came to a rest facing upwards at an angle between the front seats with his head resting on my lap. His face was a bloody mess. Blood poured from the back of his head, covering me.

  I screamed in shock and panic. He had obviously been shot and was in a bad way. I slammed my foot on the brakes of the car, so I could tend to him.

  Dave roared at me.

  “Fucking drive!” And then to everyone else, “Fire! They’re shooting at us.”

  With one hand on Daniel’s ruined head, I put my foot down hard on the accelerator. As the car shot forwards, I was deafened by Dave and Chet firing their weapons at the receding barricade. I could hear the machine gun firing controlled bursts from the Land Rover as it too sped along beside me.

  Futilely stroking his head, I was shouting over and over, “Daniel, you’re going to be okay. Hang on in there,” as the car sped towards the rest of our convoy.

  I was soaked in his blood. I glanced at him, knowing but not wanting to accept, than no one could survive the devasting wound he had received.

  Ahead I could see the tractor, bus and van already turning around. They could see and hear we were in trouble and were heading back at breakneck speed, so they’d had the presence of mind to start moving.

  I slowed down as I neared the convoy, staying behind them as we drove down the motorway, back the way we had come. Chet was still firing long bursts, but Dave stopped and leant down into the vehicle.

  He took one look at Daniel and screamed.

  “Fucking bastards.” He quickly sat back on the seat and reachin
g into a pouch, pulled out an aid kit. He raised his head, inspecting the wound and held a wound dressing against the back of his head. Placing his head gently back he said quietly,

  “I think he’s gone, mate.”

  Tears flowed down my cheeks and I kept stroking his head, not wanting to accept the truth.

  Soon Simon’s voice came over the radio.

  “We are out of sight of them. Let’s stop and regroup.”

  Chet had also stopped firing when he looked down at Daniel as he lay sprawled across the car. Chet now sat in the rear seat, silently staring at Daniel, tears flowing down his cheeks.

  In a dream-like state from the shock, I stopped when the others did.

  Chet and I were out of it, unable to process what had happened in the last sixty seconds. Dave took control.

  “Simon. We have a man down. Daniel’s been shot. You maintain the perimeter while I deal with it.”

  I didn’t hear the rest of the exchange but was aware of Dave jumping out of the vehicle. Moments later, he jumped back up and standing on the bonnet of the car, he leant through the hole on the roof.

  “Tom.”

  I ignored him.

  He gently tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Come on, Tom. We need to get him out of there, so I can check him properly.”

  That snapped me out of wherever I was.

  “Of course. How shall we do this?”

  “Lift him up and I’ll get his shoulders. Chet, support his head and hold that dressing on as we lift him.”

  Chet leant forward, his hands quickly covering in blood as he held Daniel’s head in both hands. I reached under his arms, struggling to lift the dead weight as Dave reached down to help. Chet’s arms were fully extended and he couldn’t hold the bandage in place any longer and it fell back into the car. More blood poured over me as we struggled. It became easier when Chet lifted his legs, so he wasn’t tangled between the seats.

  With one final unceremonious heave, Dave pulled him out through the roof and called for help. Within seconds, more helpers appeared, and he was quickly lifted from the car and he disappeared from my view as he was laid on the ground.