The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 4)

by Luke Duffy

  After what seemed like hours, they finally reached the far end and the steel hatchway. Kyle’s gun-group was there waiting for them as they kept the area secure. They helped the shaken survivors through the hatch, whispering words of encouragement, and attending to what wounds they could.

  Stan and the veteran stepped through last, the passage behind them continuing to growl and groan as more of the supports collapsed in on themselves. There was no way that the infected could get through now, but they still had the sewer system and its inherent dangers to negotiate before they would taste clean air and feel any resemblance of safety again.

  “You okay?” Stan asked when he saw that Kyle was having to manipulate his weapon with just one arm while he protected the other.

  “Yeah, took a bit of shrapnel, but I’m okay,” he replied, handing over the machinegun to one of the militia who in turn handed him back his rifle. “What about you?”

  “Not a scratch.”

  “I told you we should’ve gone to Norway,” the veteran huffed as they left the collapsing tunnel behind them.

  They made their way towards the front of the column and to where Tina and Paul were now positioned, resting for a few minutes before they continued with the evacuation through the warren of sewers and utter darkness.

  “I’m starting to feel like I agree with you, mate,” Stan grunted.

  19

  “That’s it there,” Al whispered to Charlie who was crouching beside him. “To the right of the church; that’s the bus depot.”

  He turned and looked up at the darkening sky. At ground level the shadows between the buildings were getting longer and harder to penetrate with the naked eye, but enough light was still coming through for them to see where they were going. The temperature was dropping sharply, and the wind chill penetrated through their clothing and bit into their bare flesh. Al shivered. It was going to be a cold night, and if they did not get away from the city and find somewhere to hole up, they would all suffer. He doubted that everyone amongst the survivors were strong enough to survive for long without food and shelter.

  As planned, while Taff and Bull followed them through the sewers and then headed north, while Charlie and his group along with Al and Tommy, and two of the mechanics from the base, had crept their way south and into the city, headed for the bus depot. The outskirts had been quiet with only a few of the infected wandering through the streets. Their numbers were nothing like what they were closer to the town centre.

  Behind them and waiting within the grounds of a partially destroyed leisure centre that had been gutted by fire was the rest of their group. Twenty militia soldiers lurked in the shadows, watching and waiting for the signal to move forward and act as a protective cordon around the depot while the mechanics got to work on the vehicles.

  Charlie and Al waited, squatting in the rubble and leaning against the cold bricks of a burned out building, their breath misting in the cold air as they listened to the sounds of the dead just a few blocks away. They could hear the racket being created as the infected rampaged through the inner city, tearing buildings apart in their search for the living. It seemed that despite the time that had elapsed since Tommy and Al had escaped them they refused to give up the hunt, unable to reason that the men had long since slipped far beyond their reach. The ring of breaking glass, the grind of doors collapsing, and the rasping crump of blockages and barricades being forced open never ceased. The continuous uproar was joined by the incessant backing of the dead voices, their monotone hum filling the chilled air.

  “Jesus,” Nobby whispered from behind. “It sounds like there’s a million of the bastards out there. They’re tearing the place apart.”

  “Let them get on with it,” Charlie replied. “As long as they’re busy chasing shadows it should keep them off our backs for a bit.”

  He turned and watched the rest of his group. The two mechanics were sitting close behind him, their bulging eyes watching every shadow in the surrounding area. Their heads swivelled constantly, as though they had become loose from the bones in their necks. Every movement and every sound, no matter how slight, sent ripples of terror shooting through their bodies.

  “You two,” Charlie hissed at them and clicked his fingers lightly to grab their attention. “You up for this?”

  They looked back at him, but said nothing. Their faces were pale and their bodies were shaking. Charlie knew that it was not from the cold alone. It had been years since either of them had set foot outside of the FOB, and the world had changed a lot since. There were many more of the monsters now and fewer survivors. The land was bleak and frightening, and the haunting sounds of the masses of infected only added to the terrifying atmosphere.

  “It’ll be okay. Just stay close and keep quiet. Once we get in there, we’ll cover your arses while you do your thing. Okay?”

  They nodded in unison.

  Charlie glanced down at their tool boxes. They were big, heavy, and cumbersome. He dreaded either of the mechanics losing their grip and dropping one of the bulky, steel containers. The noise created by the tools spilling out would be like the bells of a cathedral and enough to attract every corpse in the city to their location. He reached over and gripped one of the handles with his left hand. With his free hand he forcefully grabbed the mechanic’s arm and placed it on the box.

  “Don’t worry about anything else other than this,” Charlie whispered, staring at them both intently. “We’ll do any fighting that needs to be done while you two keep a tight grip on the tools. You got that?”

  Again they nodded.

  He looked around them, checking the area before turning his attention back to the bus depot. They were forty metres away, but the ground between their position and the objective was wide open. They would be exposed to any prying eyes in the area as soon as they broke cover, but they had very little choice. The only alternative was to pass through the streets behind the terminal, travelling an unproven route while adding time and risk to their journey.

  Charlie watched the building, looking for any signs of movement. There was only one of the dead that he could see in the depot enclosure. It was ambling around in the open area between the collapsed mesh fence and the main bay doors of the huge garages, dragging its feet as it stared down at the ground and unable to hear the din being created by the hordes that were crowding the city centre just a few streets away.

  There were a number of coaches and buses outside of the building, but they were clearly too damaged and worn to be of any use to them. They were covered in green mould and weeds, every one of their windows smashed, and their tyres had rotted away many years ago. It was obvious that the engines would have long since seized up and become nothing more than useless clumps of rusted metal.

  The large doors of the depot appeared to be sealed shut. It did not seem as though anyone had used the place to hide. There was no sign of barricades, boarded doors, or damage to the exterior. It was as if the place had simply been closed for business long ago and had been left forgotten ever since. Their only hope was that there were more vehicles inside that were sheltered from the elements and still salvageable.

  Charlie sniffed at the air. He could easily deal with one reanimated corpse, but he knew that there could be many more of them prowling in the shadows of the rusting hulks or around the corners of the main building. It never took much noise or movement to attract hundreds of them into an area that had otherwise seemed devoid of anything other than rats and the corroded relics of human civilisation.

  “Okay, mate. Prepare to move,” he whispered back to Nobby and then turned his attention to Al. “We’ll go forward and have a gander. The rest of you stay here, and we’ll give you a wave once it’s all clear.”

  “No worries.”

  Al crept back, passing on the message to the others and taking up his position beside the mechanics. It was his job to keep a close eye on them and prevent them from panicking should they run into any trouble. Once Charlie had confirmed that the depot was safe
Al would lead them out, with the mechanics close on his heels and Tommy tucked in just behind them. The rest of Charlie’s team and the militia would provide flank and rear protection as they moved through the open ground. Once at the depot they would throw out a cordon and wait for the mechanics to identify whether or not there was anything that could be salvaged from within the bay doors.

  Charlie stood up and crept towards the corner of the building. He peered out into the street to their left, checking that nothing had changed over the previous few minutes. It was still clear, but the noise from the dead grew suddenly louder without the wall of the building to buffer the cries and wails. With a nod the two men stepped out and into the open, moving slowly and methodically over the debris littered street.

  Al watched them, his rifle and eyes scanning their surroundings and gliding over the numerous rusted vehicles that sat idle along their path. He was nervous and could feel the knots forming in his stomach. He had been apprehensive from the moment they started the move out from the base, but now was the moment of truth for them when they would find out whether or not their particular role in the evacuation was going to bear any fruit.

  Tommy suddenly appeared beside him, waddling forward on his haunches and cradling his rifle across his chest. He came to a halt and let out a sigh.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Getting there.”

  Tommy saw Charlie and Nobby inching their way across the street, moving very slowly and avoiding any sudden movements. Unlike Al, he had not spoken to Charlie or any of the others until just minutes before they launched into the retreat from the base. Since then they had been completely focussed upon their objectives, and Tommy had not yet taken the time to make any judgements on the new arrivals from his own, personal perspective.

  “You trust these guys?” he suddenly asked. “I haven’t had much to do with them yet, but do you trust them?”

  Al thought for a moment. He pictured the cold, unblinking eyes of Stan, the towering and menacing monolith named Bull, and the indifferent, seemingly reluctant manner of Kyle. They had travelled a long way, and despite the fact that Stan and his men wanted their help in return, they could easily have left the people inside the base to their fate. Instead they had taken a great risk, almost becoming trapped in the fortress themselves. On arrival, as the situation rapidly deteriorated, each of them had joined in with the defence of the FOB without hesitation, helping to shore up the gates and assisting with the evacuation.

  Al nodded with assuredness.

  “Yeah, I do. I would never say that I one hundred percent trust them, but they’ve proven to be a decent bunch up to now.”

  “Shit, I never trusted anyone to that level even before all of this started. But if you trust them, then I will, too.”

  “That Stan guy though,” Al shrugged, feeling a shiver running down from his neck and along his back. “He definitely knows what he’s doing, but I don’t think he’s human.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that about him.”

  “I’ve known him for years, and I feel the same way,” a voice from behind concurred.

  Al and Tommy turned and saw Bryn, one of Charlie’s team members. He was smiling at them and nodding his complete agreement. The man had not said much since their arrival at the base, but during their move through the sewers Al had noticed that he walked with a severe limp. As it turned out, Bryn had a prosthetic leg. At first Al had assumed that it had been an amputation due to a bite, but when he probed further he learned that Bryn had been badly wounded in an IED-improvised explosive device-attack in Iraq, back in 2006.

  Al turned to check on Charlie. He was almost to the collapsed fence that encompassed the depot and slowly approaching the lone figure that was still shuffling around in the open, dragging its feet through the puddles and swaying from side to side like a drunk.

  “Yeah, Stan’s a strange one, but a good man all the same,” Bryn continued while keeping his eyes on his commander. “He knows what he’s doing, and there’s nothing he can’t do. If he says he’ll get your people to the coast, he’ll get them there. He’s the best and most professional soldier I’ve ever met, and although he looks like an uncaring, evil fucker, he’s as loyal as a dog and will fight to the death for his people. The funny thing is though, I think death is actually scared of the old bastard.”

  “How long have you known him?” Al asked.

  “Nobody really knows him. We’ve been with him for the past nine years,” he said with a nod and indicating towards Charlie. “Stan and his blokes saved our skins when we were overrun. Those two lunatics, Taff and Bull, have been with him from the very beginning, and before that they were part of his ‘spec-ops’ team for years, but they still don’t have a clue about who he really is. I’ve found that it’s best not to pry too much either. He doesn’t open up to anyone. He is what he is, and we accept him at face value because there seems to be very little else to him.”

  Al nodded, contemplating what Bryn was telling him. If Taff and Bull, the men who had served alongside of him for years could not tell them anything, then he doubted that he would find out much for himself.

  Bryn backed off a little, moving into a position from where he could see both Charlie to his front and the militia to his rear. Once the depot was cleared, he would lead them across and begin placing them into a cordon.

  “Look, mate,” Al began, realising that he and Tommy were alone for the first time since they had begun the evacuation. “I’m really sorry about Lucy you know. She was a…”

  “She’s dead, so don’t worry about it,” Tommy spat harshly as her face was suddenly thrust back into the forefront of his mind.

  Up to that point, and even though his memories of her were still very recent, he had been able to prevent Lucy from overwhelming his every thought. He had thrown his mind and body into the task at hand, refusing to be overcome with grief and thoughts of the woman he loved. She was always there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, but he had the ability to switch off his emotions when the situation called for it. He needed to operate at his full capacity, but now Lucy was suddenly there again.

  His statement made Al turn to look at him. He had never seen someone die from the infection so quickly, so he instantly understood what Tommy was not telling him.

  “You mean…?”

  Tommy looked back at him, their eyes locking for a moment as a thousand words went unspoken. Al knew exactly what Tommy had done. He would never have left it for anyone else to deal with. The fact that their relationship had never flourished into a romantic and physical one did not matter to Tommy. He loved her regardless, and he would have wanted to be the one who was there at her end.

  “Jesus,” Al sighed.

  “The fever was burning right through her,” Tommy continued, suddenly feeling that he needed to explain things to his closest friend. His words came out in a quiet monotone as he sat staring out at the depot. His eyes were unfocussed and glistening with the hurt that was trying to push its way to the surface. “She was in pain and too far gone to know what was happening. I couldn’t let her go on like that, Al. I couldn’t stand to see her suffer in that way, and I couldn’t leave her behind. She would never have made it through the evac. So I...”

  He paused and turned his head in shame.

  “Yeah, I know, mate. You did what you had to.”

  Al placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Tommy was strong and tough, but Al knew that losing someone close was enough to break any man. If Tommy was to burst into tears at that moment with the pain of grief, Al would think no less of him. He had felt the same thing on many occasions, and it was having friends like Tommy that had helped him through such hard times.

  “If there’s anything you need, Tommy, you only have to ask.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Tommy grunted, shrugging his shoulders and refocussing his attention upon the depot. “But we’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment, so just forget about it for now, will you?”

  Al nodded. At that m
oment he understood that Tommy needed to come to terms with his loss in his own way. In time he may need to turn to Al for his support, but for now he would deal with his pain alone.

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll leave you to it.”

  They both fell silent for a while, watching Charlie and Nobby as they closed in on the corpse that was oblivious to its impending doom. In a flurry of movement, the old man lunged at the figure while Nobby caught it before it hit the ground. There was not a single sound made in the attack, and within seconds Charlie and Nobby had disappeared around a corner to conduct their sweep of the depot’s exterior walls.

  Tommy and Al waited, listening to the unnerving roar of the dead through the streets and staring out at the darkening buildings that flanked the bus terminal. Both of them understood that now was not the time for grieving or reflection. There was a job to do, and getting everyone safely to the coast was the priority. Once aboard the ship there would be the chance to deal with emotions and ponder the events of the past.

  “You think Paul will be able to get their ship running?”

  “I hope so,” Al replied. “I’m just not sure if it will make it to the Azores. It’s a fucking ferry, not a cruise liner. But if we get that far then Stan and his guys have done their bit. We’ll look like a right bunch of cunts if we can’t do our part.”

  “That’s us, let’s move,” Bryn snorted from behind when he saw Charlie reappear a few minutes later. “Al, get the grease monkeys moving, and I’ll bring up the rest.”

  Tommy stepped out ahead of them and into the open street. He could see Charlie and Nobby both crouched beside one of the old buses, watching the area and providing cover for them. Behind him the heavy, laboured breathing of the two mechanics sounded far too loud in his ears as they lugged their cumbersome tool boxes. He stopped and turned to them, giving them a nod of encouragement.

  After a few long minutes and moving slowly just as Charlie had done while crossing the open ground, they passed through the collapsed fence and dropped down in front of the bay doors. The militia were moving in, their dark silhouettes looking very much the same as a herd of the dead as they converged upon the depot. Bryn brought them in, and wasting no time, began placing them out around the perimeter.