The others took a step back. Dark places up to this point had seldom born the kind of surprise anyone looked forward to. Tom ducked into what, upon closer inspection, appeared to be an old fireplace and disappeared. They heard Tom rummaging around inside the cavernous monstrosity, the kind that often dominated former colonial homes and around which in their heyday, mustache-twirling stiff-upper-lip Brits would exchange stories of their exploits on the Dark Continent.
Curiosity getting the better of them, they finally poked their heads into the opening only to be blinding by the sharp beam of a mag-light illuminating the fireplace’s interior. Baffled, they looked at what could easily pass for an outfitters sales display along the scorched chimney walls. There were several automatic rifles, a couple of handguns, several radios and boxes labelled Meals-Ready-To-Eat, along with a rack of fatigues, duffle bags, and a small combination lock safe.
“You kept this one quiet” Nadia broke the stunned silence. Amadou and Papillon just gawked in amazement.
“I guess I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” Tom grinned, holding up a pair of night vision goggles he had taken from a small shelf mounted in the chimney just above him.
“Looks like the elephant just got smaller.” Papillon joked as he took a full pack of 9mm ammunition from shelf on the wall next to his head. At this, the four began taking whatever they could use out of the fireplace, spreading out the equipment on the floor in the living room.
“You are not one of those fous avec des armes? A gun nut, is that what you call it?” Papillon inspected the cornucopia of surplus equipment and raised an eyebrow.
“Occupational hazard, I’m afraid.” Tim smiled.
“I am glad you are on our side.” Amadou joined in.
They assembled the gear into individual kits, distributing weapons and add-ons according to individual preference. About to finish up, Tom once again disappeared into the fireplace and, after a few minutes, returned with a small metal box.
“Voila…or as Papillon would say, la pièce de résistance!”
He presented the box to the group like some kind of treasure, opening its lid ever so carefully. Amadou’s jaw dropped. Inside the box lay a Claymore mine in pristine precision.
“You don’t do things in half measures, do you?” Nadia remarked with wide eyes.
“Contingency planning 101. You'd be surprised what you can get here, with the right connections.” Tom shrugged and added the box to his own kit.
“I already know this will come in handy,” Amadou added knowingly.
He had been forced to fight with the rebels since childhood and, being no stranger to mines, and other explosives had seen what they could do if placed in the right location and triggered at the right time.
Meanwhile, Tom’s focus was back on Anna. She was still breathing heavily, occasionally going into spasms. Overall though, she had stabilized to the point that, for better or worse, Tom assessed they would be able to take care of her during their transit. He saw the others casting concerned looks at each other as they watched him take her temperature.
“She is not going to turn,” Tom said resolutely, without diverting his attention from Anna.
None of the others dared contradict him. Instead, they all finished loading their packs with the new-found treasures and checked over their weapons. Thanks to Tom’s fastidious attention to planning, they were again fully kitted out. They heated up some of the MRE’s to stock up on energy they would sorely need in the hours to come.
By the time everything was ready, the sun had well and truly set, first dusk, then a virtually moonless night blanketing the march of the dead and the city that now firmly belonged to them. The group settled in, ready for a few hours’ sleep ahead of their midnight departure. Tom began setting his alarm, but then stopped with a contemptuous smirk. His wife dead upstairs, his daughter was fighting for her life right here in the same room. How dare he think he could sleep, let alone rest? He felt at odds with his emotions. Hated them, even. Hated his pragmatism and ability to switch off that which was expected from a decent human being. A decent human being. Is that still what he was?
Guilt tore at his insides. Was survival worth risking his humanity any further than he had? He sat on the floor next to Anna on the couch and held her hand. He would let others be the judge. For now, he would be but a tool for her survival. Nothing more, nothing less.
The plan was as simple as its execution physically challenging. Since the roads or at least the main road was still, for lack of a better word, occupied by the shambling dead, the only way was to move parallel to it. Going from compound to compound, using perimeter walls to conceal their presence from unwanted attention, they would climb into and back out of compound after compound until they ran out of options. Climbing dozens of walls, many lined with barbed wire, electric fences, or broken glass at the top would be strenuous, but safer than playing hide and seek in the open with a thousand highly motivated dead.
They had manufactured a rudimentary rope ladder from para-cord and bits of shelving Tom had managed to produce. In addition, each of them had some kind of blanket or duvet they planned to throw over any sharp obstacles presenting themselves as they climbed over various fences and walls. While Tom had busied himself looking for anything and everything they might use on their journey, Papillon and Amadou had taken the opportunity to go upstairs.
Having wrapped Julie’s remains in a clean sheet, they had quickly carried her outside, before informing Tom about what they proposed to do. Returning from his scavenger hunt, he initially protested, but then feeling quietly grateful that he had been spared the task, had eventually agreed. They laid Julie to rest in the small rock garden towards the back of the property. Gathered around, the small mound Amadou had tried to offer a few words of solace, but Tom just walked away, his capacity for emotional trauma exhausted and the memories of his living wife to vivid to be replaced by the image.
CHAPTER 7
It was time to decide how they planned to move. They agreed that while the men’s combat experience made them more useful as sentries, Nadia would be carrying Anna. Tom had initially refused in the strongest of terms, but acquiesced to the overwhelming number of reasons why doing anything else would be a very bad idea. Not only did Nadia have little more experience with a firearm than firing her tiny Derringer at short distances, but she was also the lightest and most agile of the four. With a little added muscle, they figured she would negotiate obstacles with relative ease. Taking out anything, dead or living, that might choose to make things difficult along the way, would thus fall to the men.
Discussions on the subject went on for a while, and in the end, Tom decided to play along, if anything, to avoid missing the night’s all-too-brief window. He promised himself to stay as close to Nadia and Anna as he could.
Yes, they had all become his friends in the shortest of time. Yes, they performed and gelled well as a team, perhaps even as more than that. But theirs had also been a union of purpose, of safety in numbers and one of survival. Much like the triangle of fire, where oxygen, fuel, and heat brought about ignition, the flame of their endeavour required three elements to endure. Were one to be removed, Tom had no doubt that flame would die. They were different people with very different outlooks after all. He would take no chances trusting any of them more than necessary. ‘By whatever means…’ He didn’t like the thought, but if he as much suspected Nadia was going off-mission, then he wouldn’t hesitate to protect Anna.
The plan was for Amadou to take point. With the others lifting him to the top of each perimeter wall, he would scan the area before every move, using Tom’s night vision goggles. Papillon, as usual, would take the rear, his bulky frame not only providing a deterrent to any living coming up from behind but also offering additional concealment for the others moving in front.
As the wall clock in Tom’s study struck midnight, they put on their packs, slung their weapons, picked up Anna, and strapped her to Nadia’s back. Against Tom’s protests,
Nadia wrapped a shemagh around Anna’s head, covering her mouth.
“Just in case.” Nadia had stated matter-of-factly.
Anna turning was a possibility Tom refused to accept, but the others certainly entertained.
‘Choose your battles,’ he reminded himself and again gave in, at the same time secretly committed to resolving the issue at the first opportunity.
They stepped out from the safety of the townhouse and took in the cool evening air, adjusting to the outside while Tom turned around and locked both the door and security grill, placing the keys under a nearby flowerpot.
“You never know.” He shrugged with a wry smile.
He knew a return any time soon, if ever, was unlikely, but the gesture was one of unbroken spirit. Besides, he wasn't ready to cut the ties yet. Least of all to the backyard, where Julie now rested an untimely eternal rest.
They instinctively crouched as the sound of the dead arrived, and with it, the familiar stench that always gave away their rotting presence. Slowly but deliberately, they moved in formation as if practiced a thousand times, each one monitoring his arc and occasionally whispering observations to the lead. Getting over the first wall was a breeze. Tom’s compound didn’t have the security features ordinarily standard for stand-alone houses in this city, where home invasions were as common as a cold and often perpetrated by criminals with the kind of force and determination otherwise reserved for SWAT teams. The 8-foot wall thus offered little challenge, and it took less than two minutes for the group to reach the other side.
Here another, much larger compound stretched out before them for several hundred yards. Clouds had pulled across the night sky, and Amadou donned the NV goggles, moving up and down along the wall, scanning the structures and gardens.
Meanwhile the others, waiting for his signal, remained huddled behind a weighty 100KV generator along the inner wall. The wide steel gate securing the entrance was closed and still intact; an indication that not much had changed here since the outside world had been flipped upside down. The small guard hut next to it stood empty, its door creaking in the night breeze. Whatever guards had been on duty had long abandoned their posts. The townhouses, each with its own garage and backup power, lay forebodingly quiet and even with the NVGs Amadou did not detect any source of light within them.
He gave the sign. The shuffle of the dead outside the main gate echoed around the compound, providing sound cover for the group as they moved carefully past the houses towards the wall on the other side. Reaching it, they gathered themselves, huffing and puffing less from the strain of movement, and more from the stress of once again moving among the dead. The comfort of relative safety was a strange creature, and one they had gotten used to only too quickly again during their brief stay at Tom’s house.
They lifted Amadou until his hands reached the top. Dragging the rope ladder behind him, he pulled himself up and fastened it to one of the reinforcement bars that protruded from the concrete. Tom pulled at it to test its anchor and, satisfied that it would hold, started climbing up after him. He was about to reach the top when Amadou’s arm shot forward, stopping him from going any further.
“Shhhhh…” Amadou pointed in the general direction of the compound on the other side.
In the green glow of the NVGs, he saw several figures moving near one of the houses around 100 yards ahead. They moved slowly, much like the dead, but more deliberate and with a level of coordination, the risen did not possess. Amadou keyed his radio and whispered for the others to stay put. Placing a blanket between his weapon and his body to avoid making any unnecessary noise, he slid down to the other side. Landing with a barely audible thud, he immediately ducked behind one of the large Magnolias that lined this side of the compound.
The figures were still ambling between one of the houses and what appeared to be a delivery truck. Some were carrying items large and small, while others stood watch. Much to Amadou’s concern, he could make out several AK47s, their distinctive shape recognizable even in virtual darkness. The looters, he figured, would no doubt fire upon anything that came near their position. A thud next to him and Amadou spun around and brought up his weapon. Tom had landed clumsily in the dirt, his backside hitting the wall as he tried to regain balance and the spare magazines attached to his belt rattling against the concrete.
“Sorry,” Tom whispered. Dusting himself off, he looked over Amadou’s shoulder into the black. “What have we got?”
“I make eight of them,” Amadou observed. “Three armed, the rest carrying loot. What do you suggest we do?” He turned around and loosened the NVGs, the green glow giving him a ghostlike appearance. Tom thought about it for a moment.
“Well, I’d say they are just as keen to avoid drawing unnecessary attention as we are. But they are also not likely to welcome us with open arms. I’d say we wait a bit and see if they leave on their own accord.”
He keyed his radio and appraised Nadia and Papillon on the other side. Reluctantly they agreed to stay put and took the opportunity to check over Anna. She still felt hot to the touch and had slipped into a deep sleep, but otherwise seemed as well as could be under the circumstances. ‘At least she hasn’t gotten worse.’ Nadia thought to herself as she checked Anna’s pulse.
On the other side of the wall, Tom and Amadou sat in silence, taking turns at watching the looters through the NVGs. They did not seem to be in a particular hurry, but given the number of items they had removed from one or more of the houses so far, Tom figured the truck would soon be full and they themselves hopefully on their way to greener pastures or wherever the heck they planned on going next.
The infernal squawk of a base station at full volume from the guard hut less than 50 yards from his position had Tom and Amadou instantly wishing they could crawl under a rock. The radio spat forth a flurry of indiscernible instructions and static into the night. Someone in a control room out there was still holding their post, ordering guards around that no longer existed.
Outside the main gate, a cacophony of moans erupted in response. Through the night vision, Amadou could see that the sudden disturbance had not been without impact on the looters. They were running now. Some rushed back into the house and others towards the truck, but much to his dismay, at least two of them towards the guard hut and the source of the sound. It took but a second to realize that to get there, the men would need to pass his position. There was no time to run and hide.
To the right was the outer wall of another townhouse, and to the left, less than 50 yards away was the main entrance, the gate already swaying as throngs of the dead started pushing against it. Frenzied and hungry, bloodied limbs smashed against the steel cladding. Corpses getting crushed by the force of the crowd behind them, their insides squeezing through the ornamental pattern of the metal frame. Within seconds the armed men had covered the distance. Less than a few yards, beneath the Magnolia, Tom, and Amadou huddled as close together as they could.
“What’s going on?” Nadia’s voice hissed through the speaker of Tom’s radio, immediately drawing the attention of the approaching men.
“Shit.” Amadou cursed under his breath and brought up his weapon, as the first bullet impacted the wall just above Tom’s head with a sharp crack, sending debris into the air at lightning speed.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Amadou held his cheek and winced in pain.
Suddenly another weapon erupted with an unmistakable boom. Before Tom could identify its origin, one of the dark figures collapsed. Another shot from somewhere above him and the second man suffered the same fate. Tom and Amadou looked at each other, their weapons at the ready but unfired. Seeing his two comrades go down, the last armed looter made a mad dash for the truck. Ratatat…several more rounds made their way downrange and stopped him in his tracks. As Tom and Amadou looked up, Papillon emerged on top of the wall, his giant frame silhouetted against the recurring moonlight like a distant mountain.
“I thought you two were going to hold hands forever!”
“What the hell are you doing?” Tom hissed.
“Ah, well, you know. If it’s time to go loud, it’s time to go loud!” Papillon replied, his voice as booming as rifle fire.
There was no denying he had a point. After what had just happened, Tom figured, stealth was pretty much out the window.
“Alright then, you guys come on over to our side.”
Within seconds the group was reassembled. Papillon’s teeth shone brightly in the dark as he grinned from ear to ear.
”Problem solved, Oui?” He nodded in the direction of the dead looters, their bodies sprawled out in the car park.
Before Tom could berate him for his recklessness or thank him for his help, the rattling of a starting diesel engine snapped everyone out of the conversation. The last of the looters jumped into the truck, slamming shut the doors just as it lunged forward, the panicked driver letting the clutch slip and sending the vehicle into a hobble.
“What does he think he is doing?” Nadia asked from the rear.
“Surely they are not going to….” Amadou stared through the NVGs and cursed.
“Ils sont fous!” Papillon already sprinted away from their hiding place and in the opposite direction.
The truck swerved slightly as the driver tried to regain control, then it gained speed. Heading straight for the group, it sent everyone darting in different directions. Nadia looked over her shoulder and counted down the yards. ‘30 yards. 25.20.15.’ She covered Anna and braced for impact.
With less than ten yards to go, the truck made a sharp turn. She thought she could see the driver’s eyes wide with panic as he sped past and accelerated towards the gate. The dead, hearing the commotion renewed their efforts to break down the barrier and be the first to reach the living they knew were inside. The collective wail of a thousand hungry mouths echoed through the compound, and their stench saturated the night air.
“Everyone, head for the other side of the compound. Quick!”
The Virophage Chronicles (Book 2): Dead Hemisphere [Keres Rising] Page 13
