The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 3)

by Luke Duffy

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with all this shit?” he whined with his palms outstretched and indicating the pile of junk on the table in front of him.

  “Didn’t you watch ‘The A-Team’ when you were a kid?” Bobby asked from the opposite side of the room, a grin stretching from ear to ear as he winked at the veteran. “Get to work and build us a plane, Danny. Chop-chop.”

  While Bobby, Bull, and Kyle went about preparing their equipment and taking stock of weapons and ammunition, Taff went to take over on guard duty with Richard. He found the dishevelled man still sitting on the edge of the shallow trench, staring out over the island, and glancing nervously over his shoulder from time to time.

  “It’s about time someone turned up,” Richard grumbled, his voice quickly being swept away in the blustery wind.

  “What’s up, Rich, you getting lonely out here?” Taff sneered.

  “Lonely? That’s what housewives and people in a normal society get. I’m just scared shitless. I keep expecting one of those things to come running at me from behind a bush.”

  “You poor thing. Do you need a cuddle?”

  Taff sat down beside him and placed his rifle across his thighs. He scanned the ground nearest to them and then looked into the middle distance before turning his attention to the horizon. He did not speak but nodded to himself, as though he was making his own assessment of the situation inside his head.

  “Looks pretty quiet to me,” he grunted, finally. He rolled up his sleeve and began rubbing at his forearm. “I don’t know what you were so worried about. We’ve got a nice little spot here, and it’s not exactly challenging.”

  “They’re what I’m worried about,” Richard replied and pointed down into the valley. “They have the run of the mill down there, and no one is doing anything about them. Look at them. There’s dozens down there.”

  Taff watched the shambling corpses that lurched through the grassy fields below them. They were spread out and some distance away, but he could already see that there were more of them than there had been the day before. Richard was right. No one seemed to care that the infected were loose on the island.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, mate,” Taff said with disinterest and continued to work on the sleeve of his jacket.

  Richard turned to look at him and saw that he was mauling a large cut on his forearm, just above his wrist. Taff’s stubby and dirt covered fingers were buried deep into the tissue and causing the hole to enlarge. Blood was pouring out of the wound and trickling down to his fingers where it dripped into the stagnant pool of filthy water that had accumulated at the bottom of the trench. He hissed and grunted under his breath but remained undeterred in his gory task.

  “Jesus, Taff, what’s happened?”

  Richard sounded shocked as he stared down at his friend’s bloodied limb. He had no idea what Taff was doing or why, so he tried to make a joke of it in an attempt to mask his fear and revulsion.

  “I never had you pegged as the self-harming sort. I thought that was just for teenage Goth kids. This isn’t one of those cries for help, is it?”

  “A splinter,” the Welshman muttered without looking up as he continued to dig his fingers into his own flesh.

  “Some fucking splinter,” Richard snorted.

  “Ah, got it.”

  Taff turned to him and held up a long sliver of dark, jagged metal. It was soaked in his blood and glistened in the sunlight as he turned it in his fingers, inspecting the foreign body he had just removed from his arm.

  “Another piece of the factory,” Taff said casually before flicking the shard of iron out towards the barbed wire. “In London, when the building we were hiding in took a direct hit from the bombers, Danny nearly got his legs chopped off, Bull got his face peeled back, and I ended up with a load of shrapnel in me. Some of it makes its own way out now and then. You should’ve seen the piece Bobby pulled out of my arse last week. It was…”

  “Nah, you’re okay, Taff. I don’t need to hear all the details.”

  Richard looked at the gaping wound and suddenly felt light headed. He could not understand how the men were able to deal with such hardships and pain, taking them in their stride, and shrugging them off as though they were everyday occurrences. He supposed that to Stan and his men, having clumps of metal embedded in their skin was not such a big deal so long as they were still breathing and able to function.

  They had been through a lot and had suffered just as much, if not more, than any other unit, and their attrition rate was slowly taking its toll on the team. He watched as Taff began wrapping a bandage around his forearm, whistling to himself as he did so. Richard admired their strength, toughness, and endurance, but most of all, it was their ability to deal with any situation or tragedy and continue to perform, substituting their grief with the infamous black humour of the British soldier.

  “So why shouldn’t I worry about it too much then?” Richard asked, changing the subject and taking his mind off the fact that he had just watched a man perform the most primitive and grotesque self-surgery he had ever seen.

  “Worry about what?” Taff replied, looking up after ensuring that the dressing was tight and secure over the open wound. He flexed his fingers and twisted his wrist, checking on the blood circulation to his fingertips, and ensuring that the dressing did not restrict his ability to manipulate his weapons.

  “Them, down there,” Richard replied, gesturing towards the distant infected with a nod of his head. “Just before, you said that I shouldn’t worry about them too much. Why shouldn’t I be worried about them?”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, I forgot to say, we’re getting out of here.”

  “Out of here? You mean the house?” Richard asked with surprise and turned to look at the semi-constructed farm building. “Are we moving down to Newport?”

  “Nope. We’re getting off the island, mate.”

  “When? Where to?”

  Taff shrugged while he sat picking the dirt out from under his fingernails with the point of his knife. He was whistling again and did not seem to be particularly interested in the details of their intended move from the Isle of Wight.

  “No idea, bud,” he replied, slowly shaking his head. “We only just decided it about five minutes ago. The others are sorting it out while I sit here keeping you company.”

  “I’m glad someone is.”

  “Oh, and Stan has a son,” Taff added casually.

  Richard was about to reply when Taff suddenly jumped to his feet in one swift leap. Within a second or two, he was away from the trench and raising his rifle so that it was pointed in the general direction of the road.

  Taff’s sudden movement startled the civil engineer, and he automatically began to think that there was a threat. He reached for the pistol in his pocket and fumbled about for a few long seconds before he finally pulled it free. He climbed to his feet and moved to where Taff was standing, holding the small gun close to his chest with both hands, and then suddenly feeling pathetic. He lowered the pistol and let his arm hang by his side. He was no soldier and at his age, it was not the time to start pretending to be one.

  “For fuck sake,” Taff spat.

  “What is it? Are those things coming along the road?”

  “Nope. It’s something much worse,” Taff shook his head as he continued to look towards the north along the narrow track.

  “What could be worse?”

  “Trust me, it’s fucking worse.”

  “Militia?”

  Taff did not reply but watched the Land Rover steadily approaching, bouncing over the rocky track and headed towards the house.

  “What does she want now?” He huffed to himself with disdain and then checked his watch. “It’s not even gone nine o’clock, and she’s here to piss me off already. It can’t be time for her daily jump with Bobby yet, surely.”

  “Who?” Richard asked, stepping to Taff’s left so that he could see what Taff was seeing. “What does who want?”

  “Thu
nder knickers,” Taff grinned. “Who else?”

  Samantha’s vehicle continued towards them, her silhouette swaying from side to side behind the wheel as the suspension dropped and bounced on the rough surface of the access road leading up to the farmhouse. She seemed to be in a hurry, uncaring about the potential damage that the undulating and rocky ground could do to her vehicle.

  “Go tell the others, Rich,” Taff ordered. “Something must be up.”

  10

  A crackling howl filled the air as another mortar round came screeching in. It landed with a heavy and thundering crunch, causing the ground to quiver. Clods of mud and fragments of metal flung up by the explosion rained down upon the people sheltering behind the walls of the base. The debris landed with resounding clangs and thumps as it crashed into the walls and buildings within the perimeter.

  Crouching beside one of the tanks, Al cringed, gritting his teeth and covering his head with his hands. For hours it had been quiet with no further assaults on the Forward Operating Base. For a while, the people inside had dared to consider that their attackers had given up and withdrawn. Now, that was clearly not the case. With renewed vigour, the enemy had begun suppressing the positions around the perimeter, pinning the occupants, and giving them no chance to return fire. Now they were dropping in mortars.

  Al had never wanted to be their leader, but when their previous company commander had left, taking the majority of his men with him and with no one else to lead them, Al had found himself forced to step up. Before the outbreak, he had been a corporal in the army, commanding a fighting section of eight men, and he had been happy with his lot. He enjoyed being a soldier and had no real desire to climb higher up the ladder. Since becoming the commander by default, the responsibility had weighed heavy upon his shoulders. Every man, woman, and child within the walls turned to him to keep them alive.

  Another loud thump caused the walls to judder. Al looked out and saw the men and women around the walls doing the same thing that he was, shrinking and curling themselves into the smallest target that they could.

  “They’re not very accurate with those rounds, are they?” a familiar voice called out to him from his left.

  Al turned and saw Harry racing towards him, bent double as he moved from cover and sprinted across the open ground. He came to a skidding halt when he reached the protection of the tank and dropped down beside Al, panting and grunting with the effort.

  “They’re flinging them all over the fucking place out there.”

  “They’re not trying to be accurate,” Al replied loudly, as the sound of yet another detonation faded. Again, he tucked his head into his shoulders and awaited the inevitable fall-out of debris to come crashing down around them. “They’re showing off. Letting us know what they have and are willing to use against us.”

  Harry looked at him with a quizzical expression as a series of thumps and bangs echoed throughout the perimeter as shrapnel and clods of earth slammed into the base.

  “They don’t want to drop them inside the walls. If they do that, they’ll trash the place. They just want to let us know that they have the capability and will use them if they have to. On top of that, it scares the shit out of the civvies. Physiological warfare, mate.”

  “I don’t understand it,” Harry grumbled.

  “What?”

  “This place is big enough to hold more than two-thousand people. We’re well stocked and supplied, so why didn’t they just come and ask? There’s no need for all this hostility, especially when the dead are walking about and trying to kill us, too.”

  “Maybe they have more than two-thousand troops and didn’t want the extra mouths to feed? Doesn’t really matter, anyway. They obviously don’t like sharing.”

  Another shock rattled the base. The mortar rounds were getting closer to the walls as the enemy barrage crept closer in an attempt to demoralise those inside.

  “Cunts.”

  “They’ll need to wrap this up soon,” Al shouted over a volley of fire that rang out from above their heads as a machinegun opened up from the wall. “They can’t afford to take their time on this, and they’ll want to have the base under their control before the day is out.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because the longer they stay out there in the open, the more of those pus-bags will show up, and they can’t afford to defend and attack at the same time. They’ve done their probes and have a good idea of our defences, strengths, weaponry, and capabilities. Right now, they’ll be going through their final orders and prepping for an all-out assault.”

  “We could just dig in and slot them as they attack. We managed to hold them off this morning,” Harry continued with confidence.

  “Like I said, this morning was just a probe,” Al barked, shaking his head. “Their forces weren’t fully committed. If they attack and we hold them off, they’ll use their mortar and MILAN out of desperation and blast us to pieces. We wouldn’t stand a chance, mate.”

  Tina appeared out from one of the doors leading into the inner complex. She immediately caught sight of Harry and Al and ran across to join them as more automatic fire broke out from various points around the wall. She looked shaken.

  “What’s the doc said?” Al asked, wanting an update on Tommy’s condition.

  “He’s going to be okay. They’ve patched him up and he’s now sitting there, grinning like a lunatic with a cocktail of pain-killers running through his veins. He’s smacked off his tits and hasn’t a clue what’s going on around him.”

  “Sounds like he’s the lucky one.”

  Up on the wall, the defenders were pinned down. No one could raise their heads above the parapet without the risk of being shot by enemy snipers. They had learned that lesson the hard way, losing four of their number in quick succession. As a result, it was hard to tell what was happening from their restricted viewpoint, but one thing that they could clearly see from the few observation holes along the walls were the clusters of walking corpses that were steadily filling the open ground around the base.

  They stumbled through the mire, tripping over obstacles, and dragging themselves back to their feet as they continued their mindless meanderings. The noise of the gunfire and explosions had attracted them from far and wide, and it was clear that there would be many more of them on their way. Just the sight of a handful of them was enough to drive some of the defenders into a panic, jumping up from their positions, and racing for the ladders leading down into the compound. They did not make it far. Enemy snipers, seeing their heads appear over the protection of the reinforced concrete, made it devastatingly clear that the base was under close observation from a highly trained and determined force.

  Down at ground level, in a space set aside in front of the northern gate, the bodies of the fallen were beginning to pile up. Since the siege had begun, the number of corpses being added to the heap had steadily increased. They lay there, covered with whatever blankets and sheets the men and women could find in order to afford the dead a degree of dignity and to save themselves from having to look upon the bodies of their fallen comrades.

  Al, Tina, and Harry moved up on to the wall and hunkered down on the walkway directly above the northern gate. They were trying to get a better idea of the enemy’s intentions, but it was difficult due to the threat from enemy snipers. A volley of distant fire erupted from the east. It was clear that the shooting was not directed at the base and seemed to be aimed at another enemy. Al cocked his head and turned to Tina.

  “Sounds like they’re already having problems with the infected,” she concluded, reading his thoughts. “They’ll be wanting to get inside and out of the open.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be hanging around out there for longer than I needed to be. They’ll throw everything they have at us soon.”

  “What do we do then?” Tina asked, kneeling on the grated steel walkway and using her rifle to prop herself up. “We can’t just sit here and wait it out, so what do we do?”

 
An upper portion of the western wall suddenly exploded with a deafening bang as it was hit by an anti-tank rocket. A number of men and women were sent hurtling through the air as the blast disintegrated the concrete and steel that they had been hiding behind. Everyone lunged into cover as the debris was flung out in all directions. Three more of their people had been killed in the blink of an eye, and a large gap had been created in their defences.

  “Medic,” an agonised voice was screaming from somewhere beneath the damaged portion of wall. “Medic.”

  “Fuck this,” Al snorted.

  He jumped to his feet and sprinted off along the walkway, his feet clanging loudly over the steel grates while his large body moved at a pace that defied his size. At top speed, he headed towards one of the observation points that the snipers had burrowed through the concrete at the southern end of the perimeter. People looked up in surprise as he charged by them, wondering what was going on and calling out after him. Al had no time to stop and speak to them. He needed to take action.

  “What are we doing, Al?” Harry panted as he chased after him, hurdling over equipment and people. “Where are we going?”

  “Taking the initiative back from these bastards,” Al growled.

  He was brimming with rage and frustration. Sitting there waiting to be attacked and slowly being picked off, one by one, was in stark contrast to his character. Finally, he reached the southern wall and dropped down beside one of the snipers that was stationed there. He knelt down and peered out towards the south through the narrow hole.

  “Right now,” he said, gasping for breath as Harry and Tina caught up and fell into a heap beside him, “they hold all the cards and are assuming that we will go firm and defend. I say we go onto the offensive. They won’t be expecting it.”