Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Z-Payback

by Hatchett

  “Right, we know what Dave, Joel, Sean and Irish have been up to, so that about wraps it up for today. Same time, same place tomorrow.”

  The Leaders rose from the table; some heading out to get on with their tasks and a couple hanging around to discuss certain issues with Jack and the Major offline.

  10

  Day 9 – 10:00

  Sunrise Apartments, East London

  Ahmed led the way to the ground floor without saying a word and didn’t stop until he reached the closed gate.

  “It opens from the inside, so we don’t have ta climb,” he noted in a monosyllabic tone.

  “What the fuck’s the matter with ya?” Mamba asked. “Yer got a face like a slapped arse.”

  “Ya shouldn’t involve me in yer perverse games, Mamba. If I was yer real bro, ya wouldn’t ever threaten me or force me to do somethin’ I didn’t wanna do.”

  “I get ya a blow and a shag from a good lookin’ babe and that’s all the thanks I get?” Mamba asked, offended. “And, I didn’t force ya. Ya looked like yer were enjoyin’ yerself to me!”

  “Jus’ don’t ever do it again. I can find my own women.”

  “Give us a leg up, I wanna check what’s on the other side,” Mamba advised as if he hadn’t heard what Ahmed had said.

  Ahmed formed a stirrup with his hands and boosted Mamba up. A few seconds later, he was back down.

  “A few ‘bout, but not too close,” Mamba advised. “Let’s go.”

  Ahmed flicked the release catch on the gate and they swiftly moved onto the pavement and closed the gate behind them. They didn’t notice any of the net curtains falling back into place.

  “Jus’ thought bro,” Mamba advised, “we might need some fresh guts for our cover. I got the urge to stab in any case.”

  With that, he removed a knife and walked a few metres to the nearest zombie and stabbed it in the head without pause. Once the body had hit the road, Mamba quickly sliced it open and started spreading blood and guts over his head and face and added a bit more to his clothes as insurance. Ahmed reluctantly followed and did the same, although he was beginning to think that being eaten by a zombie might be the best way out of this nightmare.

  Once they were done and having received only cursory interest from other zombies nearby, Mamba set off in the direction of the Dog and Bone.

  Ahmed quickened his pace before hissing in Mamba’s ear, “What the fuck are ya doin’? I thought we were goin’ to Hackney.”

  “We are,” Mamba whispered back. “Got a couple of errands first.”

  At the pub, Mamba opened the door carefully and disappeared inside. Ahmed stayed where he was, considering whether this was his opportunity to do a runner and get away from Mamba. He was sure Mamba had lost it big time, well, he couldn’t recall Mamba being this bad before, or could he? Perhaps Mamba had always been like this but with other nutty gang members around it probably wasn’t so noticeable.

  The pub’s door reopened and Mamba handed Ahmed a bottle of Heineken lager before he emerged with a bottle of his own.

  “Cheers,” he said as he clinked bottles with Ahmed and took a slug. “Had a feeling no one would’ve nicked this shit,” Mamba explained. He looked around and up and noticed Jamelia sitting on one of her white plastic chairs on the balcony, watching them closely. He raised his bottle in salute and got the finger in response.

  Ahmed followed his gaze and quickly looked back when he saw who Mamba had been raising his bottle to.

  “Now what?” Ahmed asked, quickly finishing his bottle without really tasting it. “Let’s go.”

  Mamba finished up. “We’ve got to be real careful now Ahmed. I wanna take a closer look at the defences but we’ve gotta blend in and hope the fuckers on guard don’t decide to take pot shots at us.”

  “You’re jokin’ right?”

  “No, I’m not fuckin’ jokin’.” With that, Mamba placed his empty bottle on the pavement and started shuffling towards the corner of the pub and the path leading to the Green Park Estate. Ahmed shook his head in disbelief but followed in Mamba’s wake. With luck, one of the guards would take a pot shot at him and he’d be put out of his misery. He wondered if the zombies actually remembered their previous life or whether it was all wiped out like a deleted computer file. Was there any back up or an opportunity to get something back out of the ‘recycle bin’?

  It took them a good twenty minutes to go a few hundred metres. They got as near as ten metres to the barrier and took a good look around under bowed heads before shuffling off towards and around the right-hand arm of the horseshoe.

  On this side of the building, there was nothing but a long brick wall broken up by ground floor apartment windows. It was the same on the back of the building and the other arm of the horseshoe. On the first day of the outbreak, Mamba had looked after the teams who were securing these ground floor windows with metal bars. He also knew that towards the end of the task, the teams were running out of bars and screws so had to use whatever was available. They were pretty sure that zombies didn’t have much in the brain department, so any type of window protection was likely to be sufficient.

  There were no zombies within earshot so Ahmed got close to Mamba and hissed, “What the fuck are we doin’?

  “Wait and fuckin’ see,” Mamba hissed back, “now shut the fuck up.”

  They got to the far end of the wall and turned to go along the back wall. Mamba stopped at the first apartment window they came to and started smiling. Ahmed didn’t know what was going on.

  Mamba reached out and with a hefty tug and some leverage from a foot against the wall, managed to pull a bike’s handlebars off the brickwork with little noise. Now Ahmed understood what was happening; the handlebars had been secured either side of the window, forming a bar. How Mamba knew about this was beyond him. Mamba next managed to tug a couple of strips of metal plaster bead and the window was unprotected.

  Even better, the window was slightly ajar to let in some air. Mamba wasn’t sure who lived in this apartment and didn’t care. He just wanted to give the bastards inside the estate something to think about.

  Mamba looked around and saw the immediate area was clear of zombies but there were some a few metres away and heading in their direction.

  Mamba quickly whispered in Ahmed’s ear, “I’m gonna open the window and start tapping to attract their attention. Once they get to the window hoist them through it.”

  “But we’ll kill our own people,” Ahmed replied.

  “Only a few but it’ll wake them up. Anyway, we don’t know who betrayed us, and until we do, they’re all guilty.”

  Ahmed shrugged and watched as Mamba opened the window as far as possible. “Anyone home? Can anyone help me?” he called into the room. There was no response; whoever lived there was out and was gonna get the shock of their soon-to-be-short life when they got home. He then picked up the bike’s handlebars and started tapping them against the metal beads. The sound instantly started drawing zombies in their direction.

  Mamba stayed as close to the window as possible and when a zombie got near, switched the tapping to the window frame. As soon as the zombie touched the frame, Ahmed bent down, picked them up by their legs and hoisted them head first into the apartment.

  They managed to get five zombies through the window before the exercise started attracting too many others. Mamba was sure five was more than enough, so he put down the pieces of metal he was holding then he and Ahmed shuffled off in the opposite direction towards Stepney Green Park.

  11

  Day 9 – 11:00

  Stepney Green Park, East London

  Mamba entered the park with Ahmed following closely behind.

  Wherever they looked, whether it be the children’s playground, the Astroturf football pitch or the acres of grass, there were zombies of all shapes, sizes and ages everywhere.

  They worked their way Northwards across the park, Mamba stabbing a few zombies on the way to keep in practice. On a couple of occasions they c
ame across a larger horde and made a point of detouring around them. They never did see what the centre of attention happened to be. Probably some poor dog or other animal, assuming of course, that the zombies tucked into anything that moved. It might have been amusing watching these fuckers trying to eat a hedgehog.

  Eventually they reached the far end and left the park to join Stepney Green, a residential road with nothing of interest.

  They turned left, heading for the A11 Mile End Road.

  “Can’t we get a fuckin’ car? My legs are achin’ like fuck from all this shufflin’ nonsense,” Ahmed asked. “And it’s takin’ at least twice as long as walkin’ normally.”

  “Are ya lookin’ to die, Ahmed?” Mamba asked, breathing more heavily than normal himself.

  “’Course not,” Ahmed replied.

  “Then shut the fuck up and keep shufflin’.”

  “But what ‘bout a car? No one’s gonna notice us here.”

  “Let’s jus’ get to the end of the road and we’ll find somewhere to take a break.”

  They continued on in silence for a further half a mile and reached the A11. It was a wide thoroughfare, and although there was only one lane in each direction, both sides of the road had either additional parking or bus lanes along its length. The pavements were wide with regular trees, giving it an airy feel. There were also an almost continuous row of shops, café’s, convenience stores, offices and restaurants on either side of the road.

  Mamba spotted an Indian restaurant and his mouth started watering involuntarily. Next to it was a Thai restaurant then a pizza place.

  “Fuck, I could murder a decent Indian,” he muttered. He turned to Ahmed, “pub or supermarket?”

  There was what looked like a massive ASDA superstore directly opposite and Mamba knew of a pub called the ‘Red Lion’ a few hundred metres to their right.

  “Supermarket,” Ahmed replied. “As it’s a superstore we might be able to find some new clothes and something to sit on, like a nice set of table and chairs.”

  “It’s not a fuckin’ furniture store, you plank. It sells food and drink, not fuckin’ tables and chairs.”

  “We’ll see,” Ahmed replied.

  Mamba shook his head and started off across the road with Ahmed following in his wake. As he entered the car park, he began to feel that something wasn’t quite right, so he held up his hand and stopped.

  “What’s up?” Ahmed asked from behind.

  “Not sure. Let’s take it nice ‘n slow.”

  Mamba edged forwards in a crouch, making sure he kept a car between him and the entrance at all times. By the time he got to the final row of cars, about ten to fifteen metres away from the entrance, he saw what had subconsciously caught his attention. There were people moving around in the shop and the entrance was barricaded. He knew they were people and not zombies because they were walking more quickly and their posture was more upright. He and Ahmed listened carefully and could just about pick up voices. Their suspicions were confirmed when a zombie got a bit close to the barricaded entrance and got stabbed in the head by a long pole from someone hidden behind it.

  “Did ya see that, bro?” Mamba whispered.

  “Yeah, man.” Ahmed whispered back. “Cool. Wouldn’t mind a pole like that myself. It’d be jus’ like one of them, what do ya call ‘em?”

  “Fuck knows,” Mamba replied absent-mindedly, “and who cares?”

  “Joustin’.” Ahmed had finally figured out what he could picture in his mind but couldn’t immediately put a name to.

  “What?” Mamba asked, getting exasperated. He wanted to survey the store, not listen to this cretin talking bullshit.

  “Joustin’. Like them people on horseback with the long poles, trying to knock each other off their horses. Oh, and it’s not a superstore.”

  Mamba looked at Ahmed and shook his head in utter disbelief.

  “What the FUCK are you mumblin’ on ‘bout, man? Who gives a shit ‘bout horses and poles and whether it’s a fuckin’ superstore or not? It’s got food and drink, that’s all that matters.”

  Ahmed was pointing at a Halfords sign which suggested it shared the same building as the ASDA supermarket before saying, “It means no table or chairs. And keep yer voice down.”

  “Fuck the table and chairs,” Mamba hissed, starting to get seriously annoyed. “You can sit on the fuckin’ floor.” He looked to where Ahmed was pointing, saw the Halfords sign and smiled. “But at least, I can get some more spray cans.”

  “No fuckin’ way, bro!” Ahmed replied. “Maybe we should jus’ go to the pub? Could do with a beer or three.”

  “Nah, I wanna see what’s goin’ on in there and how many people there are,” Mamba replied as he focused back on the entrance.

  “Oh yeah, and how we gonna do that? We’re outnumbered.”

  “Yeah, but I bet they don’t have any guns.”

  Before Ahmed could say anything further, Mamba had risen from his crouch and was shuffling towards the supermarket’s windows. Ahmed wasn’t sure whether he should stay or follow and started humming ‘Should I stay or should I go’ by ‘The Clash’. In the end he decided it would be wise to follow Mamba, so he got up and shuffled off in the same direction.

  12

  Day 9 – 11:30

  ASDA Supermarket, Mile End Road, East London

  Mamba got up close to the windows of the ASDA supermarket and took a good look around the interior of the store. He wanted to use his hands to cup around his face to block out the reflection and get a better view but it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d see zombies doing so he thought better of it. He could still see enough anyway. He counted about a dozen people, men and women, but these were just the ones walking around so there could be a lot more; it was a big building.

  Ahmed caught up and Mamba ordered him to stand behind him and keep an eye out; that way it blocked more of the light from the window and Mamba wouldn’t be surprised by a stray zombie.

  After a couple of minutes he was spotted by one of the men inside the store, so he shifted his weight from foot to foot a bit to keep in character and provided a whispered commentary for Ahmed’s benefit. The man approached the window, calling out for someone to come take a look. A woman joined him, and they stood a couple of metres away on the other side of the glass pointing and laughing at Mamba.

  The man was middle aged, short and fat, going bald but with a stupid-looking moustache and goatee to compensate, and a pair of thick-lensed glasses perched on his bulbous nose. He was wearing a ridiculous looking Hawaiian shirt, shorts and a pair of sandals - with socks! Mamba had to restrain himself from laughing back. ‘That’d scare the shit outta them’, he thought.

  The woman looked younger with short black hair and was at least a foot taller than the man, but at the moment Mamba only had eyes for him. ‘You fat, ugly little toad’, he thought to himself. ‘You won’t be fuckin’ laughin’ with my knife up yer arse’. He made sure that he didn’t look directly at them but appeared to be looking in all directions.

  It reminded him of the safari parks he’d seen on TV where some stupid git would drive his car into the monkey enclosure, say ‘look at this cheeky bugger’ when a monkey sat on the bonnet staring at him through the windscreen, then get pissed ‘cos the fuckin’ monkeys started scratchin’ his fuckin’ car and tearin’ off the windscreen wipers. Well, what the fuck did you expect? Stupid twat! Mamba would’ve loved to have been one of them monkeys for a while; he’d take a big dump on the bonnet then try and throw the shit through any open window he could find. That’d fuckin’ teach ‘em.

  Mamba eventually turned away as if to move off.

  “Follow me,” he ordered Ahmed, “and get yer guns ready.”

  “Oh man, do we have ta do this?”

  “Yes, we fuckin’ do. I’m not havin’ some ugly fat bastard laughin’ at me. No fuckin’ way!”

  Mamba shuffled towards the barricaded entrance with Ahmed a step behind, pistols in each hand.

  “Don
’t forget about the fuckin’ pole,” Ahmed cautioned.

  “Do ya think I’m fuckin’ stupid?” Mamba hissed back.

  Ahmed didn’t respond. It wasn’t worth it when Mamba was getting riled up like this. Nothing was gonna stop the mad fucker from doing whatever came into his head. All reason went straight out of the window.

  Mamba made sure that he stayed at least a metre from the barricade. He was fully alert and focused, blood pounding through his veins as his heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  Ahmed made sure he was even further away from the barricade, if that pole was gonna come shooting out he wanted it going in Mamba’s direction. Maybe the stupid fucker would get himself tagged.

  Without warning the pole came thrusting through a man-made gap in the barricade which was about half a metre wide by half a metre tall.

  Mamba was lightning quick. His head dodged slightly to one side allowing the pole to brush past him, just above his shoulders. In the same movement, both his hands came up, grasped the pole and pulled.

  The young man wielding the pole on the other side of the barricade was off balance, thrusting forward with both hands and expecting an impact to counter his forward momentum. When the impact didn’t come and the pole was quickly wrenched further forward, the young man was far too slow to release the pole and found himself airborne and flying through the gap. He landed hard on the paving, let go of the pole, and skidded to a stop at Mamba’s feet.

  Once the pole had been released, Mamba twirled it around and brought the point to bear a few inches from the young man’s face. Ahmed had needed to be awake; the twirling pole had almost decapitated him.

  “Aren’t ya gonna invite us in?” Mamba asked innocently.

  The young man had closed his eyes and lost control of his bladder as the pole came towards his face.