by Luke Duffy
“Why do you insist on riling them up like that?” Tina asked.
“What else are we going to do with two days’ worth of shit and piss?” the soldier shrugged. “Fuck ‘em. What are they going to do? Get angry, and attack the base?”
Al and Tina turned away and walked a little further along the wall. The smell of the dead now mixed with human filth was nauseating beyond description.
“How’s everyone coping? Any dramas?”
“Anyone who isn’t on duty is still in the assembly areas. They’ll stay there for the foreseeable future. They’re calm at the moment but scared shitless,” Tina replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the ocean of walking corpses.
“I don’t blame them,” Al murmured. He too was scared. Anyone that was still clinging to their sanity would be harbouring a great deal of fear and uncertainty at that time. “What about the walls and the gates? They holding up to the pressure?”
“For now, yeah. Paul reported that there were concerns about the western gate a few hours ago. Lots of creaking, and the supports were showing signs of cracking. We reinforced it, and it seems to be holding up okay.”
“But for how long?” Al asked, rhetorically. “What about the militia?”
“Most of them are flapping like budgies,” she replied. She turned to him and gave him a faint smile. “Understandable, don’t you think?”
Al looked around him. There was very little movement happening within the base now. Everyone was at their posts, alert, and ready to move. He could sense the anticipation, and he had no doubt that if they were to suddenly order a full evacuation, it would take only seconds before the walls were totally empty.
He could see the piles of ammunition crates and stacks of spare, fully loaded magazines interspersed along the walkways and close to hand. It seemed that every bullet and weapon that they had was there. The militia troops themselves looked laden with bulging pouches and linked machinegun ammunition draped over their shoulders and chests. The scene reminded him of old film footage he had seen from the battle of Khe-Sanh during the Vietnam War when six-thousand US Marines held out against twenty-thousand NVA soldiers during a siege that lasted for months.
Al smiled fleetingly. He knew how comforting it felt to be heavily encumbered with ‘bombs and bullets’. The more they had on their person, the more confident and reassured they would feel. He raised his eyes and looked towards the towers. The machinegun crews were in position behind their menacing weapons with piles of boxed ammunition close by.
At that moment, Al actually felt proud. The men and women had stepped up to the mark regardless of what they had once been in their previous lives. They were scared and sometimes showed signs of being close to breaking point, but through hard and repetitive training coupled with strong leadership, the militia soldiers were ready to fight for the survival of the base and its people.
“At least they’re holding firm. Paul seems to have a good grip on them. What about the recce? When do you want to go down into the sewers?”
Tina turned. She suddenly looked sheepish and unwilling to look directly at him. She shuffled her feet awkwardly and then finally met his eyes. Al’s body stiffened, and his jaw muscles clenched. He knew exactly what she was about to say.
“You’ve already sent them out there, haven’t you?”
“Uh, yeah. I sent Greg and Flash with a couple of others.”
“Why?” he demanded in a growl. “I told you I needed to be with them for it.”
He felt hurt that she had left him out, but that was not his main concern. He knew the area, and he had already covered half of the route with Tommy during the previous day. The sewers were a warren with all kinds of hazards that could pose major problems for someone who did not know where they were going.
“You should’ve sent me on that task, Tina.”
“I know,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “I know. But like I said, I needed you rested, and Greg is more than capable. You explained the route to us, and I sent him out to follow the sketch map that you and Tommy made.”
He grunted and shook his head and leaned against the sandbags. He was at risk of slipping into a sulk over the matter but quickly checked himself. Now was not the time to be acting like a jilted lover. After a few moments silence, he shrugged and stood up straight. There was no point in crying about it. It was done now, and Tina was right about Greg’s abilities. He just hoped that they did not get lost and made it back safely.
“When are they due back?”
“Soon,” Tina replied as she watched the brown and grey masses of decomposed faces. “Sebastian and one of his dogs went along, too. I told them that I wanted them back here by eleven regardless of whether or not they had found a viable exit point.”
“And if they don’t find an exit?”
“Then we’ll go again, and we’ll keep going until we find a way out. I just don’t want them searching around down there in the dark getting tired and making mistakes.”
“Then I’ll go on the next one.”
“Sure thing. I’ll go too. If they come back empty handed, Sebastian and Greg can keep an eye on things here while we head back out with Flash. He’s keen and young.”
“Have you thought anymore about where we can head to once we get out of here and through the tunnels?”
“I’m thinking westwards. There’s a few rural towns we could look at, but without vehicles we’ll have a hard job of it. We can’t stay in the open and on foot for too long. We’ll need to find somewhere fast. At least just to catch our breath.”
“Roger that,” Al said and turned away.
He would collect his gear and prepare for the coming task, but first he wanted to check on Tommy. The news of Lucy being bitten had hit his friend hard and he had refused to leave the quarantine cell where she was being held.
It was cold inside the complex as Al made his way towards the quarantine cells. He worried that the inevitable death of Lucy would leave his friend so grief stricken that he would become useless at a time when the men and women of the base needed him the most.
He stopped at the cell and looked in through the small window set into the door. Tommy was cradling his beloved Lucy as she lay in his arms shivering and sweating with the fever that was tearing its way through her body. Al could not hear what Tommy was whispering into her ear, but he could imagine the man would be telling her that he was there for her and promising that all was going to be okay. Neither of them would have believed what he was saying, but nevertheless, his words and his presence were no doubt a comfort to her.
Al considered going inside, but decided against it. He watched them for a while longer and looked on as Lucy went through a series of convulsions. Blood and bile dripped from her lips while Tommy clung on to her tightly and still speaking into her ear. After a minute or two, Lucy’s shaking and twitching settled while Tommy looked down at her helplessly.
Al could not watch any longer. He could feel Tommy’s pain radiating out from the room. He was about to leave, to begin preparing for the possible mission back into the sewers, when his friend looked up at him. His eyes were rimmed red and his cheeks were awash with tears. At that moment Al felt his stomach churn as he saw the heartbreak in his friend’s face. He felt helpless; unable to say or do anything that would be of use to Tommy. The man was about to lose the person he loved despite the fact that she had never loved him in return, and it was clearly tearing him to pieces.
He turned away and headed back along the corridor to wait for Flash and the others the return from their mission. Somewhere outside, shots began to ring out. Tina had given strict orders to hold fire, so he knew that there must be a good reason for someone suddenly opening up. He broke into a run.
Out in the open air he could hear people hollering, firing, and shouting orders. The commotion was coming from his left towards the west. He made his way there without bothering to look for Tina first. He knew that she would be making her own way to the scene. He reached the gate and instantly sa
w the problem. The barricade that had been thrown up to reinforce the weak point was moving. The steel gates were swaying at the top, and the pillars were cracking and coming away from their foundations.
“Shit,” he gasped as he ran up the steps.
At the top of the defences he saw Paul. He was screaming out commands to the men and women around him as they tried hard to mow down the corpses that were closest to the gate and attempting to create a buffer zone made from organic material. A lot of ammunition was being used up in the process, but there was no other option.
“Is there anything that we could throw down there?” Al shouted to Paul over the gunfire. “To keep them back from the gate?”
“Already tried that,” the man replied, leaning over the rim of the wall and looking down into the area in front of the entrance. “All we could do was throw a load of barbed wire down there and hope that it would be enough. So much for that idea.”
Al peered down and saw that the tangles of wire were no match for the dead. Although the coils were virtually blocking off the gate, they did nothing to deter the thousands of corpses that pushed themselves through the razor sharp barbs, uncaring to the flesh that was being stripped and torn from their bones.
“Here,” a voice called from behind them.
Al turned and at first had no idea what he was looking at. A large white box with arms and legs seemingly sprouting from beneath it was making its way along the grated walkway. He saw Tina’s face behind them with more strange objects following.
Paul and Al stepped aside as the two men that were carrying the fridge stopped at the area above the gate and hurled it over the side. The bulky appliance dropped and crashed onto the heads of a number of the infected who were tightly packed together directly below them. It landed just a metre in front of the gate, flattening a few of the corpses, and sending others flying out from the impact point.
“Get back,” Tina yelled as more of the militia arrived, carrying heavy equipment. “Clear the way. Move.”
Within minutes the area around the outside of the western gate began to resemble a junkyard. There were more fridges added to the pile along with washing machines, beds, couches, and even some of the panels and engine parts from the old broken down Lynx helicopter. Additional rolls of barbed wire were hurled over the side landing all around and on top of the obstacle that was gradually growing into a small mountain.
“Shit, Tina,” Paul yelled. “We need to do something. That isn’t going to hold them back. We need to get the fuck out of here, soon.”
Down beneath the gate the dead were scrambling over and tearing at the blockades. Some of them were becoming entangled amongst the wire or trapped as the heavy equipment shifted. More of them were scurrying over the others, attempting to reach the walls and continue with their relentless assault.
“Just hold them off for as long as you can,” Tina ordered as she grabbed Al by the shoulder, leading him away. “Get everyone stood to and ready to bug out.”
They were headed for the entrance to the tunnel. Neither of them needed to speak or discuss what they were doing. Al could see the desperation of the situation and knew that they were going out to find a route through the city, regardless of the fact that the others had still not returned. Whether they were alive or dead, someone needed to go back out there and find a way through.
A few hundred metres into the dark passage beneath the base, they heard movement up ahead accompanied with groans and muttering.
“Greg, is that you?” Tina called into the gloom.
“Yeah, it’s us,” the echoing voice replied.
Soon, Al and Tina could see the faint outline of figures moving in their direction. It looked as though they were carrying someone.
“What happened?”
One of the militia who had travelled out with them was needing to be supported by Flash and another. The man was hurt and limping badly. Sebastian was at the rear, his dog close to his side on a short leash while Greg was a few metres in front.
“Don’t worry, it isn’t a bite,” Greg panted as he came to a stop. “But he’ll need some treatment before infection sets in. Ripped his leg open from the calf to the knee. There’s all kinds of nasty shit down there.”
“Who is it?”
“Ben,” Greg replied in a hushed voice. “He’ll lose the leg if we don’t get him treated. We need to get him to the clinic, ASAP.”
“What about the exit point?”
Greg shook his head dejectedly as they turned and headed back towards the base. Ben, the militiaman, was groaning and hissing with each step that he was forced to take, the dressing around his lower limb dripping with blood.
“Couldn’t find one,” Greg continued in a pant. “We were going round in circles down there. Some of the tunnels have collapsed, and other parts are wide open to the surface from the bombing that the army and air-force did. A group of those bastards were down there waiting for us. We didn’t see them until it was too late and they jumped us.”
“Fuck,” Al sighed. “Anyone bitten? Have you checked?”
“Of course I fucking checked,” Greg snapped. “No bites. Just Ben spanked in on a lump of iron when we were legging it.”
“How far did you get?”
“A little further on from where you met that bloke, I think. That’s when we were attacked. I’m not sure if the sewers are a good option, Tina.”
“We don’t have a choice. We have to find a way through because we’ll never make it on the surface.”
“We need to go back down there,” Al grumbled as they reached the tunnel’s entrance. “That western gate is too weak to hold out.”
“There was one tunnel that we were going to check, but that’s where we got jumped. It seemed to be headed in the right direction, but we couldn’t get through. You should at least give it a while to settle down in there,” Greg advised. “We stirred up a bit of a hornet’s nest with the noise we made.”
“Show me on the sketch,” Al demanded.
Greg pulled out the diagram that Al had drawn from memory when he and Tommy had returned from the city the day before. He clicked his light and shone it down onto the tattered piece of paper. There were now a lot of additions to the map, having been drawn on by Greg during his search. To Al, the scrap of paper that was supposed to show them a way out was now starting to resemble a bowl of spaghetti.
“Here,” Greg said, pointing to a junction with a question mark displayed over it and then indicated the rest of the sketched tunnels with a sweep of his hand. “These others are no good. They’re either heading the wrong way, or they’re blocked or collapsed. But like I said, those things are down there and we couldn’t go any further.”
“Are there many more of them, do you think?”
“No idea. We didn’t hang around to find out. But it sounded like there were a lot of them,” Greg nodded. “We managed to kill the ones that jumped on us, but we could hear more of them coming through the tunnels as we were bugging out. The place could be thick with those bastards now. I don’t recommend going back in there for a while if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“We really don’t have time to be sitting on our arses right now.”
“We’ll have to make the time,” Tina spat. “If Greg says it’s too dangerous, then we wait. I’m not risking lives unnecessarily.”
They were back inside the base now, dragging the wounded man towards the inner complex and the clinic.
“What’s happening on the western gate?” Greg asked when he heard the sporadic firing and shouting.
“Starting to collapse,” Al replied as he watched Flash disappear into the complex with Ben. “Not sure how long it will hold, so we need to get into the sewers and find a way out once we’ve given it a soak period.”
“Good idea,” Greg replied, satisfied that he had made his point and it had been received. “Let it settle, or you’ll just end up as another statistic, mate. I’ll come with you when you go.”
Al nodded, but on
ce again he felt that they were wasting time.
12
“Keep left, Taff. You’ve got more static vehicles coming up on the right. Take it steady,” Stan ordered.
“This is getting fucking silly,” Taff growled as he gently pressed his foot down against the brake and clutch, dropping them into a lower gear.
The SUV lurched slightly, almost unnoticeably, as Taff carefully lifted his weight off the clutch. The engine’s noise went into a slightly higher pitch, but remained well contained within the sound-proofing that had been fitted into the engine compartments of each of the vehicles. Taff’s manoeuvre was known as a sustained gear change, designed to keep the vehicle moving forward without any change in speed, but affording them an increase in instant power if they needed it due to the lower gear.
“At least it isn’t raining,” Bull grunted from the rear.
“You had to fucking say it, didn’t you?” Taff instantly spat back at him. “You just couldn’t keep your big mouth shut.”
“What?” Bull replied, smiling and feigning ignorance.
British soldiers, especially while on operations or manoeuvres and living in the open air, always refused to acknowledge the possibility of rain. Even when the clouds above them were thick and dark, and speaking loudly for themselves and the coming downpour, the troops on the ground would still not utter the dreaded word. That is, all but one. In every unit there was always a soldier that revelled in going against the flow and upsetting the apple-cart. Bull was such a man. While even Stan, a man of few emotions and even fewer superstitions, would remain humbly quiet about the matter, Bull could not resist the urge to tempt fate and deliberately upset those around him.
