by Luke Duffy
He stared into her eyes. She meant a great deal to him, more than she realised, and it was she who when times were tough had unwittingly carried him through. The same went for Tina. Al was her unacknowledged soulmate. The atmosphere between them had simmered substantially over the past few minutes, and the anger had dissipated, being replaced by humility, understanding, and mutual sympathy for one another’s emotional struggle.
“You good?” she asked, sensing that he was preparing to leave.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He nodded to her and then turned on his heel, headed for the complex.
“Tina,” an urgent voice called over to her, coming from the direction of the northern entrance into the base.
“For fuck sake,” she huffed, turning to see who it was that now needed her attention. “What now?”
Al stopped and turned around, realising that the night’s events were not yet over and that there was more on the horizon. He unslung his rifle and looked up towards the wall, searching for any sign of panic, but there was no movement. There were no figures rushing about, and the guns remained silent.
“Tina,” the voice called again as a shape emerged from the darkness.
It was Ron. He was running towards them and appeared agitated, which was a rarity considering that the man always seemed to be in a permanent state of disinterest regardless of what was happening. He came to a skidding halt in front of them, out of breath but anxious for Tina and Al to follow him back to his communications hut. He was already turning to run back in the direction he had come from.
“We’ve got comms with someone,” he panted as Al and Tina followed after him at a brisk jog. “I think it’s those islanders again.”
“You got the HF radio working then?” Al asked.
Ron slowed his pace slightly to allow them to close the distance. He looked back over his shoulder at Al and shook his head.
“Not a chance. I’ve tried, but I can’t get it working. These transmissions are coming through on the VHF set.”
Tina and Al glanced at one another. If what Ron was telling them was correct, and they had no reason to doubt him, it meant that whoever they were talking to were within a relatively close range to the base. At that moment they felt a mixture of hope and excitement, but trepidation also bubbled to the surface. They knew very little about the people they had been speaking to, and to suddenly have them on their doorstep was an unnerving prospect.
“The VHF?” Al huffed.
“Yeah, the VHF. Gary is trying to get a rough idea on their location with the direction finder, but they’re not saying much and sending only in short bursts.”
“What makes you think it’s the islanders?” Tina asked.
“Just a wild guess, but who else would it be? It’s not like the airwaves are filled with much chatter these days.”
They reached the communications hut. Gary was sitting at the table with the handset pressed against his ear, repeatedly calling into the radio and sounding frustrated. He looked up as the three of them entered and shook his head.
“They’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.”
“Any luck on getting their position?”
Gary shook his head again and continued trying to reach the people on the other end. It was another five disappointing minutes before a faint voice came through the speaker again. It sounded distorted and crackling, but Al recognised the man as being the same one that they had been speaking to up until a few weeks earlier. The Welsh accent was distinct, despite him doing his best to slow his speech down and concentrate on his pronunciation.
“How’s things going in there? You having a spot of trouble?”
“It’s them,” Al grunted.
“And they’re close enough to know what’s going on,” Tina concurred, staring at the radio and feeling her spine begin to tingle.
They all paused for a moment and glanced at one another. Gary held up the handset, not wanting the responsibility of continuing to communicate with the strangers. Al snatched it from him and raised it to his ear.
“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied into the radio, trying to sound casual and friendly. “I take it that you have eyes on?”
“Roger. We can see what’s going on, and to be honest, it doesn’t look too good. What’s your plan?”
Al paused. He wanted to explain what they had in mind, but he was naturally suspicious of giving too much information away to someone he did not know. Experience had taught them to trust no one from the outside until all their cards were on the table to see. They had no idea of what the man’s intentions were, and for all they knew, it could be another band of raiders, looking to take advantage of the situation for themselves.
“We’re working on it,” Al replied simply.
“Roger that and understood. You’ll be pleased to know that we’ve already done some of the work for you.”
“How’s that?”
“We’ll tell you once you’ve let us in.”
Al frowned and turned to look at the others.
“How does he mean ‘let us in’? There’s no way they’re going to get through all of that out there.”
Tina shook her head, but already Al’s face was changing to one of horror. He suddenly realised why the voice sounded so broken up and filled with static. They were in a location where the signal was struggling to transmit.
“Shit,” he bellowed, snatching up his rifle. “The tunnel.”
Within minutes they were charging through the darkness. They left Ron and Gary to continue speaking to the man on the other end of the radio, hoping that they would be able to keep them distracted while they raced to get into position. All kinds of scenarios were tumbling through Al’s mind as once again he drew on his reserves to keep him going. His exhaustion was forgotten now as his body began preparing itself for yet another confrontation. This time, not with the walking dead, but with the living.
It was a long way for them to be running at full speed and within a kilometre they were both breathing hard and starting to tire. Regardless, they continued to push on, sealing the heavy gates that were placed at five-hundred metre intervals along the passageway behind them as they went. They knew that Flash and a few of the militia were back in position at the far end, continuing with their turn on sentry duty, but they did not have a radio. The lack of communication with the group inevitably filled Al and Tina’s minds with thoughts of the worst possibilities. The door being breached or purposely opened in the confusion would destroy the integrity of the base that they were trying so desperately to maintain.
“If they get in, then we’re fucked,” Al snorted.
Tina grunted her agreement and increased the pace, charging through the darkness. They had no idea of the potential enemy’s strength, and although they could very easily contain them within the tunnel, even blowing the demolition charges to halt their advance into the FOB, it would leave their own people inside trapped and surrounded by thousands of the dead and with no chance of escape.
With just a kilometre to go, having covered almost twice that distance at a sprint while carrying their weapons and ammunition Tina and Al began to shout, hoping that their voices would be carried the rest of the way along the tunnel to warn the others.
At the head of the tunnel Flash could hear the distant, echoing voices screaming his name, accompanied by the sounds of running feet. He turned and looked at the faces of the militia soldiers around him. They stared back at him with worried expressions. He glanced back at the thick steel door and then turned his attention to the dark corridor behind them. The footsteps were getting louder and the voices more anxious. He could recognise his name but nothing else of what they were hollering to him.
“What the fuck’s going on?” he grunted rhetorically, knowing that no one else around him would have an educated answer.
“Could the infected have got inside the walls?” a worried voice replied from amongst the civilian soldiers.
“I doubt it,” Flash shook his head dism
issively. “We would’ve at least heard some shooting. It must be something else.”
“Maybe it all happened too fast?” another voice offered, sounding shaky and on the verge of panic.
“Get a grip of yourself,” Flash snarled, shining his light into the quivering face of the man standing beside him.
He made to turn back into the tunnel. Before heading into the blackness, he spun around to face the men and women that were standing close by. They were watching him with wide, flitting eyes while looking to him for leadership and reassurance.
“Stay here, and keep away from that door,” he demanded. He understood their fear, and if he was honest with himself, he too felt scared, but he could not let it show. “No one goes anywhere unless I say so. Okay?”
Flash had visions of the militia guards panicking, and with no idea of what the emergency was and what was happening behind them, attempting to make a run for the surface. For all he knew, the dead could be just beyond the door and the troops around him suddenly opening it, feeling an overwhelming urge to escape the approaching danger, could get them all killed. He took a few steps away from them and cupped his palms around his mouth, about to call back along the tunnel towards the advancing voices.
There was a metallic clunk followed by a startled yelp from one of the militia. He spun on his heel, raising his rifle and ready to shoot anyone that was attempting to break the seal of the hatchway.
“I told you to keep away from the fucking door,” he snapped with anger as he leaped back towards the group.
His light passed over the two women and three men. They were all standing exactly where he had left them at least three metres away from the tunnel’s entrance. Their bulging eyes stared back at him, protruding from their pale and quivering faces as they held their weapons tightly in their shaking hands.
“We didn’t touch it,” one of the women replied, glancing at the hatch and absentmindedly taking a step further back.
“It came from the other side of the door,” another of them stated, the man’s eyes locked on the thick steel barrier.
“Shit, get back,” Flash ordered.
By now, the approaching footsteps further along the tunnel were much louder and the voices clearer. It was Tina, warning them to keep away from the hatch. Flash raised his weapon so that it was pointed at the entrance. The men and women around him followed suit, unsure of what they were doing or why.
As Tina and Al arrived, there was another clang from the other side of the solid metal doorway. The deep, hollow sound made all of them stiffen and hold their breath. Al jumped in front of them, his huge frame almost as wide as the doorway itself. He turned and glared back at them, holding a finger to his lips and ordering everyone to remain quiet. He took a step closer, shining his light against the hatch as he listened.
“What’s going on?” Flash whispered as he watched Al.
“Someone’s out there,” Tina replied, her eyes locked upon Al as he gingerly crept towards the hatch.
“Yeah, I gathered that much. But who? The infected?”
Before Tina could answer him there was another thud, quickly followed by a series of rapid clangs. This time the knock was much louder than previously, sounding more urgent. It was not the slow uncoordinated beat of the dead as they slapped and gnawed at the barrier. It was clearly a sound created by living people.
Flash turned and looked at the other members of the militia with a confused look on his face. They had all recognised the sound as being human and not from the infected. They looked back at him, their pale and worried faces reflecting brightly in his torchlight. They were anxious, and so was he. He turned his attention back to where Al was standing, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
Al could hear muffled voices. He twisted his head, aiming his good ear towards the door as he strained to hear the words. He was unsure of what to do. There was a part of him that wanted to keep the door sealed, but his instincts were telling him to allow them in. He was certain that they were the same people that they had been speaking to for some time. Although they knew very little about the men, he felt that he could trust them. He turned and glanced back at the others, his eyes falling on Tina.
“Well, what do you think?”
Tina did not reply right away. She had all kinds of scenarios buzzing around inside her head. If they let the group in, they could turn out to be raiders. They could attempt to seize the base from them, killing many of them in the process.
On the other hand, she questioned why they would go to so much effort, speaking to them over the radio for so long prior to their arrival. The base could not hold out indefinitely, and she knew that they would soon need to leave. If the men beyond the door had been watching them as they claimed to have been, they would have come to the same conclusions, and it would make no sense to want to carry out any kind of attack.
Her hands were sweating, and her heart was thumping hard. She looked over to Flash and then the militia. They were her people. She was responsible for the safety and survival of every man, woman, and child within the walls.
Then an image of their cemetery sprang into her mind. In her lucid vision she saw it beginning to expand as the seasons rapidly flitted by overhead. She saw the walls crumbling and the hordes of infected smashing their way in through the collapsing gates. The fort became submerged in the blood of the living while the dead gorged themselves on the flesh of the remaining survivors.
Finally, she looked up and saw Al staring back at her, waiting for her instructions. Her body became tense as she raised her rifle. She nodded to him.
Flash and the others followed her lead, positioning themselves within the tunnel so that they had clear arcs and their weapons pointed directly at the hatchway. Every safety catch was switched to ‘fire’ as the group prepared themselves for battle.
Tina took in a deep breath.
“Do it,” she said firmly. “Open the door.”
15
“What’s taking so long?” Kyle growled from between clenched teeth. “What the fuck are they waiting for?”
He turned around to look back along the sewage tunnel. There was nothing but blackness. Even when he lowered the NVGs that were resting on top of his head, it was impossible to make out any details. There was not enough ambient light getting through into the subterranean passageways beneath the city to allow the outdated night vision aids to work. He sniffed at the dank air and listened, his smell and hearing being the only senses that were not affected by the total absence of light. If anything, those senses were heightened and more acute.
“I think they’re just being careful,” Mark’s edgy voice whispered back at him. “I can’t say I blame them.”
They had been static for considerably longer than any of them would have preferred. They waited, lurking within the stairwell leading up towards the surface from the sewers. It was dark and damp, and the echo of trickling water was a constant, accompanied by the faint sound of scurrying, claw-like feet and high-pitched squeaks from the thousands of rats that were close by and creeping through the tangles of piping and ducts.
Mark and the veteran had been tasked with covering the rear, stationed at the gate leading into the pumping station from the sewers. It was their duty to keep a watchful eye on the tunnel behind them in case anything had taken note and followed them while they made their way through the catacombs beneath the built-up area. It had taken them quite some time to cover the distance, just as Charlie had predicted, wading through filthy, knee deep water and avoiding the occasional floating corpse.
After entering into the system they soon began to hear the thrum of distant gunfire. Only the living could have made such sounds. A blast from deep within the tunnels rumbled towards them, carrying a wall of heat that raced through the foul smelling warren, and the atmosphere took on the distinct odour of burning tissue.
Pushing on through the pitch blackness with a sense of urgency the team eventually came across an area that was still in flames. The fire wa
s spreading up the walls and onto the surface of the city above. Even deep below ground they could hear the crackle of the flames as they raged through the buildings, scorching and burning through the foundations. Some of the weakened structures had begun to collapse, the unmistakable sound of tumbling brick and steel raining down from the streets above them.
All around them, countless incinerated corpses that were mangled beyond recognition floated on the black waters. There were a number of brass cases lying scattered over the ground, a sure indication that living people had recently been through the area and created the carnage that they could see all around them. Charlie knew the route, having already recced the tunnels the day before, and he confirmed that the trail of bodies was leading them in the same direction as the base.
“Looks like they’re trying for a breakout,” Taff had commented as they continued towards the beleaguered fortress.
Only once had they stumbled across any of the infected that was still moving. It had somehow fallen down through a grid or manhole and had become lodged in one of the smaller inflow tunnels that fed into the main system. Its shattered body and twisted limbs were entangled amongst the other debris that had been washed up against a grate, pinning it to the spot like a skewered hunk of rotted meat. Its flesh had mostly fallen from its bones due to it being constantly immersed in water over a long period of time. Kyle had gawked at it in wonderment and watched the putrid, waterlogged creature for a while as it stared back at him, growling and gnawing at the thin iron grate that blocked its way from flowing into the main sewer. Even now after all these years and with its limbs smashed and its tissue stripped, the thing wanted him just as much as it would have at the start of the outbreak.
The route was clear and avoided any undue exposure to the hundreds of thousands of corpses above them that were swarming the streets. Still, it had been a tense three hours with each member of the group on high alert, and the strain of the patrol was beginning to show on some individuals.
