by David Whaley
“It’s not there. We could be in big trouble. Why did I even bother?” Worry turned to panic.
“Heather,” said Natalie taking hold of both her shoulders. “You were trying to help. Nobody blames you.”
Heather didn’t say anything but instead let her tear ducts work overdrive causing her to cry and Natalie invited her in for a hug that was gratefully accepted.
A sound of a crackle startled them. “Natalie, receiving.”
Natalie looked down at the radio hanging from Leon’s belt. It lit up as a voice they recognised transmitted belonging to John Richards. Leon handed the radio for Natalie to reply.
“Go ahead, John.”
“Good to hear from you. I tried contacting you shortly after we left yesterday but I assumed you had all fallen asleep.”
“We had,” said Natalie checking her watch. It was seven thirty in the morning. “How can I help?”
“We saw a strange bloke on the dual carriageway yesterday. We spoke to him. He was just walking along and said he was on his way to you. He did say he wanted to see you specifically.”
“That’s interesting. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“He said that we had better leave and that he has some friends coming. I take it you haven’t seen him yet then? He was only half a mile from you when we saw him.”
“Not that we know of but we have been visited by at least four unknown people during the night. They stole something and let a bunch of those zombies in.”
“My god! You guys alright?”
“Yeah, thankfully we’re fine. Can you describe the man you saw?”
“Sure. Around five foot ten inches tall, between twenty five and thirty, slim, slight stubble and blonde hair kinda wavy. He was wearing a suit. It was dark so I couldn’t tell you the colour of it.”
Natalie thought about the description for a second, and then again. She turned to Leon and whispered, “The description sounds like Marcus don’t you think?”
Leon nodded in agreement.
“Did you receive, Natalie?”
“Sorry, yes I did. I don’t recognise him based on your description.” Natalie thought it best to leave this out or risk over complicating things.
“No worries. He did seem quite fidgety and in a rush. He kept trying to walk away from us and was rude when we kept trying to speak to him.”
Rudeness is not a trait typically associated with Marcus.
Then, there was a third member transmitting over the radio that Natalie initially assumed was someone on John’s end of the conversation.
“Can you repeat? Is that you, Natalie?”
“Not me.”
The person transmitted again with a lot of feedback and interference. It could just be made out to be a voice belonging to a female with only a few words lucid enough to understand. “Can’t talk… need… find Marcus… danger…”
“You broke. Go again,” urged Natalie hearing her ex partners name being mentioned.
“Await… visit… bravos and… care…”
“Repeat. Repeat!” said Natalie but she was too late. The mysterious woman didn’t continue the conversation. She was gone.
Chapter 27
Natalie said farewell to John and turned back to communicate with the people that were physically present with her.
“Did any of you understand what the female was saying?” she said.
“Probably only as much as you did,” replied Leon.
“Find Marcus, danger, bravos, care, await, visit? What was she trying to say?” said Devlin.
“It’s obvious. We need to find Marcus and he is in trouble hence ‘danger.’ That’s why he was rude to the Hertfordshire officers. He was worried about something and was coming to tell us,” said Natalie.
“What about his friends that were coming?” said Leon.
“He is bound to have met people whilst he has been away from us, or it was a friendly warning to John to leave because of the danger.”
“Isn’t it possible that he came here, stole Heathers cure and let the zombies in?” asked Devlin.
“No, it isn’t. He wouldn’t do anything to risk my life. The only reason he ran was because he was scared and panicked because we found out what he did. He wasn’t involved any more than that.”
“So where is he?” said Leon.
“They must have got to him, the people that came here. What if he’s been kidnapped? That must be the danger he is in now.”
Devlin took a seat and watched Natalie and Leon speak with each other, feeling sceptical as to Marcus’ true self. Exactly how involved was he? Is Natalie in denial? Does she know Marcus as much as she thinks she does?
“I hope you’re right,” said Leon.” So, what about ‘visit’ and ‘Bravos’ then?”
“We know about the Bravos, one came to visit us. We must be getting another visit soon and she was trying to tell us to take care.”
“So what’s our next step?”
“We have to go to Marcus’ flat. It’s not too far but might take some time due to the jets blowing more things up.”
Leon was taken aback as he was asleep at the time the jets were carrying out their mission and Natalie updated him on what had happened during his state of slumber. This caused Leon to run upstairs to the adjoining balcony to the canteen barely out of breath despite the fact he smoked.
He looked out into the distance being able to see more than Natalie had earlier in the dark night aided by the continuing rising sun. Flames still burnt and smoke still rose.
Natalie joined him, followed by Devlin and finally Heather.
“It’s the main roads,” he said pointing. “That’s the dual carriageway we drove on. The M11 is in that direction and more main roads are over there. It must be more than a coincidence that the flames are in the general direction of these roads. They must have been the target. You’re right, Natalie. They must be further containing the different sectors by taking out the main routes into, and out of, each.”
Natalie tapped Leon on the shoulder. “I’ll make us some breakfast and then we’ll leave.”
“Sure,” said Leon maintaining his belief that the American Air Force had a plan.
Natalie went to the kitchen area and prepared their breakfast, poached eggs on toast, eating in silence on being served. Devlin broke the silence with the squeak of his chair as he made to top up his mug with tea before he verbally interfered.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Before we go to Marcus’ place, we should visit a friend, or more of an acquaintance of mine, first.”
“Why, when Marcus is in danger?” said Natalie outraged.
“Natalie, hear him out before making judgement. Go on, Dev,” added Leon
“You guys have taught me that information is everything. I mean, we are constantly on a hunt for it. Well, I know this guy who writes a blog online that knows his stuff.”
Natalie remained silent still decided against doing anything other than look for Marcus.
“Where does he get his information?”
“Contacts. He knows a lot of people that are always out and on the road. Most of them are the followers on his blog that feed him information. He’s been doing it for a long time. He may have heard something before the internet went down that could be of use. Of course, only if he is still alive.”
“And what if he isn’t?” Natalie finally said in another outburst of anger.
“But we have to at least try, don’t we?”
“Natalie, it’s not often that I agree with him but under the circumstances I think he is right. If it turns out he is dead, or undead, we will make straight for Marcus. If he is still alive then we’ll have a quick chat and then make straight for Marcus,” said Leon with a mouthful of egg, yellow yolk leaking from one corner of his mouth.
“But…,” she let out a sign of defeat. “Okay, but we won’t be staying for long. You’d better hope this isn’t going to be a wasted journey.”
With Leon’s last morsel of f
ood demolished, he suggested they changed their clothes into something more comfortable rather than their overalls.
“Exactly where we gonna get the clothes from?” asked Devlin, a question he deemed to be a sensible one.
“There’s a clothes shop right here, in this police station,” Leon returned negating his question as if Devlin knew what he was talking about.
“Huh?” Devlin scratched his head as the cogs turned that little bit faster, struggling to understand.
“The locker rooms, Devlin,” Natalie said satisfying Devlin’s brain cells.
The three headed to the basement followed by Heather.
“Heather, you should stay here,” said Natalie.
“No way! They got in here once and I’m not staying for when they return. You guys seem to be invincible so I’m coming with you.”
The look on Heathers’ face suggested, “don’t argue.” They didn’t.
Natalie and Heather found the two female changing rooms and started rummaging through the open lockers, and breaking into the locked ones. Meanwhile, the boys found the six male rooms and did the same.
In many of the lockers were nothing but traditional Met police uniform although some did have an array of tops and trousers for selection and a short while later they met in the foyer examining each person’s choice of attire.
The boys were dressed similarly by both choosing to wear a pair of white trainers and blue jeans but of two different shades, Leon’s darker. Leon wore a black polo shirt whilst Devlin opted for a simple branded T-shirt with an appropriate slogan printed on it, reading: In the event of a zombie outbreak come find me in the pub.
The only thing similar about Natalie and Heather was the foot wear they had chosen being Magnum patrol boots with a zip up side built for comfort and durability. They went for two different styles of trousers. Heather wore a pair of beige flared trousers whilst Natalie chose a pair of dark blue boot-cut ones. Natalie matched with her light blue chequered blouse whilst Heather mismatched in a dark grey vest top.
Each had also found a dark coloured jacket to wear in the unpredictable apocalyptic weather and Natalie showed Leon to the stores room where uniform was kept on his request.
Fortunately, the door was unlocked and it wasn’t required that he tested out the practicality of kicking through doors in his softer soled trainers.
“The stock isn’t in any sort of order. Typical.”
“What’re you looking for?” asked Natalie.
“Something that prevents us from wearing our belts and at least one of the straps,” replied Leon rummaging through various boxes, pulling out blue and white shirts, trousers, ties and cravats. He then stopped, turned and held three items in the air whilst smiling.
“Here they are.”
The items in his hands were shoulder holsters that would fit their Glock handguns also with pockets for some magazine clips. Natalie had finally considered it useless wearing her belt in any case as there is generally no need to handcuff anyone in the current situation and the CS spray doesn’t work. The only item on it that she did consider useful was the asp but pointless as her firearm did a much better job.
Devlin, Leon and Natalie removed the holster from their thighs leaving on the single strap around the opposite one for extra magazine capacity.
“Well, that feels better,” said Devlin.
“We’d better go now. We have wasted precious time getting more comfortable,” ordered Natalie.
“Agreed,” added Leon. “Heather, stay close to us at all times. Even if it gets scary, do not run away from us. If we stick together the more likely it is to survive and the better we can protect you.”
“I will.”
The three armed individuals donned their newly acquired harnesses and inserted their pistols also placing their remaining magazines into some of the pockets, not having enough to fill them all. They restocked by the vehicle.
“Tell us about your friend then, Devlin,” said Leon.
“He’s a yank, American. We have been friends for as long as I can remember but we don’t see each other that often for two reasons. One, I am constantly travelling, and two, he isn’t very sociable rather typing and reading text on his computer monitor communicating mainly by email with the outside world.”
“So, he’s a recluse.”
“I guess he is, yes.”
They sat in their usual positions in the zombie proofed BMW Heather being in the only remaining seat, the middle that is often too small for an average sized person that was surprisingly not the case with the X5.
On the dual carriageway, Leon confirmed his theory. The jets had been targeting the main roads.
Leon conducted a handbrake turn and drove the wrong way in the centre of both lanes only to spin around again to turn off at a slip road onto a large roundabout where he proceeded to take the back roads towards their destination. Twice as long, four times more dangerous, Natalie thought.
“We have company,” said Leon glancing in his rear view mirror to be met with a sight of the undead giving chase, their sound as strident as ever.
Natalie turned, almost as if in disbelief, and checked the position of her gun. It was still present but she didn’t draw it. The vehicle was able to outpace them and the need to conserve ammunition had become a necessity.
Leon did not continue to drive forward, however. Instead, he applied the brakes harsh and shifted the gear stick into reverse.
“Hold on to your hats. It’s gonna get bumpy,” said Leon.
Devlin, like a kid in soft play, couldn’t conceal his smile at the violence Leon repeatedly displayed. To him it was good to see. He had always been in control of his life and been the one to make decisions, perhaps mainly because he was alone, until he got stranded in the UK. Leon and Natalie had put him in his place but, at the same time, shown him great kindness that he put down to basic survival reasoning. Had he treated them the way he did when the world was ‘normal,’ he guaranteed there would have been a completely different result.
Their vehicle started moving backwards along the road only wide enough for one due to the cars parked at the sides, half on the kerb and half not. Speed had started to gather fast as Leon pressed the accelerator pedal harder nearing the floor. Then came the first bump like wheels over an uneven and jagged road damaged speed bump.
Leon laughed as the second zombie went under and continued ploughing through any that remained in his path, backwards.
“Leon, can we just go?” asked Natalie as more of an order then a question.
Leon faced her and smiled, a silent way of saying, “okay, that’s enough fun for now.” He threw the gear stick back into first, moving forward and changing it into second gathering speed.
What would have been an approximate twenty minute journey took instead forty with the hindrance of direct roads being out of service. Most of the back roads they took were of a similar level of destruction littered with the undead but, to their knowledge, they hadn’t come across any of the living.
The property in which Devlin’s friend lived was a tidy little town house with modern double glazed windows that looked out of place against the historic brick work.
Devlin knocked on the red wooden door with the knocker and pressed the doorbell, which didn’t work, and they waited a while before a voice answered from behind it.
“Who goes there?” asked the voice with a hint of an American accent.
“Bill, it’s Devlin. I have some friends with me. Can we come in and chat?”
“Any of you injured?”
“No.”
“Bites, scratches, blood in your eye, their saliva in your mouth?”
“No and no.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“Because it’s me you’re talking to and I can vouch for my friends.”
Bill paused for a moment, likely to be considering his next move; allow them in, leave them outside or execute them where they stand. This last point was obvious by the sound of th
e shotgun being held behind the door being pumped and readied.
“Okay, hang on.”
There were a series of locks sounding as they began to unlock; a chain, Yale lock, deadlock bolt and a mortice lock.
The door creaked open, a cautious man peering from around the door before fully presenting himself armed with the previously heard shotgun he pointed at his uninvited guests.
Bill Cohen was a heavy man, his T-shirt rising at every breath revealing his rotund stomach. He was mid thirty something with a face that gave the appearance of being older than he was, evidently not a regular beard wearer that was now present only owing to the fact he couldn’t be bothered to shave. This beard was nestled with food of different kinds, the deeper the particles of food the older they were, and the hair that sat upon his head was a matted mess, an inevitable end to the absence of soap and water.
“The hell happened to you?” asked Devlin making an obvious point that the man stood before them was not how he had known him previously.
“Never mind that. Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you?”
“Bill, I’m your friend.”
“Well, the apocalypse changes a man, even you. Why shouldn’t I kill you?”
Leon and Natalie were fed up and responded by grabbing their Glock handguns and pointing them at Bills head.
“I’ll give you a reason,” offered Natalie. “I’m tired and I’m scared. I haven’t had much luck with people recently and I’m pretty sure I’m due on. I dare you to piss me off some more.”
Natalie’s outburst shocked everyone including Leon but, more importantly, it frightened Bill causing him to lower the shotgun but only slightly; the danger still being present.
“I would also suggest that there are two of us with guns and only one of you. Whoever you shoot will be dead, but the other one will kill you,” added Leon turning back to face his target.
“Whoa, guys,” Devlin said trying to intervene to prevent the fire fight. “Look, Bill. Look at me and look at them. Do we look injured?”
Bill looked each of them up and down and spent longer looking at both Heather and Natalie. They considered him to be a bit of a pervert from then on.
