“Do you think you’ve seen the worst of it now?”
“I think we’ve had it easy so far. Population density is low in Norfolk. I think we saw the spill out from Norwich at our gates. There may be more from that direction, but the big worry is London. It would only take a small percentage of their population to hit the farm and the numbers could be overwhelming. 1% hit us and its 80 thousand people attacking. We’d run out of bullets long before it was noticeable that we were shooting.”
“Is that likely? Distance is in our favour.”
“We had a group of survivors arrive here from London last week. They were in disarray. I think it was only luck that kept them alive for so long. They had a near miss not long before they got to us. A huge group of infected attacked them in the night and over ran their camp. They only got away because they had sentries in place, and cars loaded and ready to move. I think that they lost more people in that night than any of them is willing to admit. They have said that one guy sacrificed himself and brought them time. Now they’re here they seem to be fitting in alright.”
“How far away were they attacked?”
“Hard to tell. They were driving several hours afterwards, but I think most of that was spent going in circles. Like I said, they were a mess. Couldn’t even get an accurate idea of numbers off them. Could have been dozens or thousands that attacked them.”
“So, do you have a plan if they get here in the thousands? Can you get everyone out of here safely?” Hannah asked.
“No chance now. We’ve got to big, and we’ve got nowhere to go. This is the safest place we’re likely to find now. We’ll fight rather than run. We’ve build a solid perimeter with good fall back positions. There are plenty of well-practiced marksmen.”
Lucy interrupted, “You said yourself, you don’t have enough bullets to hurt the numbers that could get here from London.”
“I hope that by now they are scattered more thinly. We’ve got no reliable news from outside of this farm so we don’t know. We’ve done everything we can think of to make this place safe. I just hope that it’s enough if the worst hits us.”
The conversation petered out quickly after that. In normal circumstances they may have found common ground to make small talk about, but now anything that didn’t relate to the walking dead felt petty and insignificant.
Ruth came and joined them before darkness fell. Her childhood room had been reassigned to a family of three, and even if there had been a willingness to evict them in the Wood family, it would have been wrong to abandon her friends immediately on their arrival at her home. She felt guilty about how long she had left them already while she caught up with her parents, but she at least knew that her brother would get them set up as well as possible on the farm. The tents looked comfortable enough as campsites went. Better than how they had spent their nights since fleeing Newcastle. They had two tents set up for them, one large one with a smaller one perpendicular to it. By the time Ruth got there all of their supplies had been arranged in the smaller tent, with the larger one set up with the four beds.
“We assumed that we wouldn’t be robbed here if we didn’t keep our stuff under guard.” Lucy said.
“If our stuff isn’t safe, then we won’t be either. We need to keep weapons close at hand though.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve left a crow bar under your pillow.” Lucy smiled. “We would have left you a gun, but apparently you’re not a good enough shot.”
They had expected to be awakened early and assigned tasks on the farm. The start was early, but the morning was met by the roar of a highly tuned police car racing into the farm rather that a calm dawning. It was getting light with the days still close to their longest, but still only closing in on six.
It didn’t take anyone long to get out of their tents. As they stepped out into the dawning light, Ruth and her friends knew that they had not overreacted to the sound when they saw the other worried people at the doors of the tents around them. Everyone had a weapon in their hand, and was looking around anxiously. It had been a warm night, and the crowd was in varying states of undress. Some were clearly about to go to work. Others were in little more than a set of shoes. For some reason it stood out that no one was bare footed.
Most people had been awake already, as days were as long as light allowed then to be. The way the car approached was not normal, so everyone was drawn to it. It pulled in close to the farm house, and as expected, Cooper stepped out. He had claimed all duties beyond their walls and no one had any interest in challenging him for them. Having the duty forced upon them a couple of times was more than enough to put most people off.
“This is it.” He shouted. “Everyone arm yourselves.” It was followed by a moment’s disbelief before the whole farm sprang into action. For the new comers it was surprising to see how well drilled the rest of the farm was. All they had seen beforehand was large numbers of people growing crops. Hardworking, and enjoying the security the dykes and makeshift barriers gave them. At night they knew that there were patrols constantly monitoring the perimeter, but they had moved too quietly to be noticed. Suddenly the entire community was militarized.
Ruth and her friends had no defined role in this call to arms, and found themselves standing watching. With all the noise and commotion they missed the instructions that were being issued, but for the most part they didn’t need to be heard. They could see which direction the attack was going to come from, as every available gun was handed out to those best able to use them, and lined up in the direction Cooper had arrived from. They were concentrated facing the road where the advance would be quickest, with the numbers thinning out as they stretched out along the perimeter. They heard the deep chugging of tractor engines.
Looking around the vehicles weren’t recognizable. To the front they were relatively normal. They were fitted up with the spikes that were usually used to pick up hay bales, only they were upside down, all spikes pointing slightly downwards so that whatever they picked up would easily slide off. Additional spikes had been welded on to the sides and filing in any possible gaps to the front removing any need for accuracy.
Above the wall of spikes, which exceeded the height of any human, the drivers pod was barely visible. Other than a few small slots which presumably allowed the drivers to see, armour plating had been wrapped completely around the pod. It was rough work. It looked like odds and ends of metal that had been found had been layered on top of each other to form this shell. There must have been an entrance but from where they stood they couldn’t see one.
The sides were similarly plated in off cuts of metal. With a few slots cut in, which soon showed their purpose with the appearance of the nuzzle of a gun. The huge back wheels looked exposed in comparison. They were unlikely to be attacked, but other than a thick set of snow chains they were unaugmented. To the rear the ploughshare had been replaced with some sort of home-made flail. It wouldn’t affect manoeuvrability like a plough would, and would quickly shred anyone who mindlessly threw themselves upon it. Ruth could guess how sluggishly the vehicles would move with all the extra weight piled upon them, but could see how little it would matter. They were designed to plough into a thick crowd, not to run from it.
It was clear that everyone had a role in this fight and was running to it, apart from the four newcomers. They watched awkwardly as everyone else collected their assigned weapons and took their place in the defensive barrier. It was clear that most were relying on the guns and tractors winning the fight before they needed to get involved, but, while it was safe, to a person they lined up to fight.
Ruth saw her family, the policeman and a few others discussing tactics. As a Wood she thought about joining them, but she knew that at this stage she would have little to add. It would only be to satisfy her own curiosity. Her brother wasn’t there, so she was certain that he was driving one of the Tractors. He’d been doing it since he was tall enough to see over the steering wheel. “What do we do? Is this our fight too?” whispered Simon.
“I’m not sure. I think we’re out of options. What weapons do we have?” Ruth answered.
“Just the odds and ends that got us here… Look, your dad’s coming this way.”
Ruth was strangely nervous to speak to him. She felt like the centre of a pocket of chaos in the midst of such an organized defence.
“I’ll cut straight to it.” Matthew said. “It looks bad. Cooper says there were thousands of them heading in our direction. The group was too big to control and lead away. They are heading straight for us. It won’t take long for them to get here.”
“Is it still better to fight than to run?” Hannah asked.
“I think it is. Whatever we choose to do people are going to die. If we flee I think most people here will be dead within a year. If we fight I think today will be worse, but far more people will see it through the Winter. I wish I knew for sure, but I believe the defences we’ve built here will make this the better option.
Ruth, your friends have only just got here. If they would rather make a run for it I understand. You can direct them through the Fletcher’s farm. If you’re all staying for the fight you’ll find weapons in that barn. That section over there is low on numbers, so join them. It shouldn’t be at the heart of the attack, but we can’t be sure. Before the day is out I think we’ll all have a tough time.
He walked off quickly. He had a lot to do marshalling the defence.
“So do we get ourselves tooled up?” Lucy asked. “We’ve been through too much getting here to run away now. Anyway, I feel far safer fighting alongside a weaponised tractor and a wall of guns than Simon with a cricket bat.”
The Farm
The attack took an hour to arrive. It was long enough for everyone to hope that it wasn’t going to happen, but not enough for their vigilance to drop. The first head to come into view was shouted out by a dozen people. It was out of shooting range, so it was just watched as it slowly grew over the horizon, and quickly multiplied in number. At first it was impossible to make out any detail on them, but gradually they came into sharper focus.
It was a ragged band approaching. Most of them were bloody. All of their clothes were torn, ragged and dirty. All of them looked starved and desperate. They must have been walking before to take so long to arrive, but on the sound of people shouting their presence they had broken into a run. They weren’t fast, individually uncoordinated, and collectively getting in each other’s way, but for the waiting defenders they were in range far too soon. From the first appearance to the first crack of gunshot no time seemed to have passed for the people holding their breaths.
As soon as it was clear that the focus of the attack was happening in a narrow band along the road the tractors were moved beyond the gate, which was swiftly closed behind them. The four men manning the vehicles were on their own with the biggest defensive assets that they had. Against a packed crowd on a narrow road the destruction they could cause was not to be ignored.
The zombies on the road moved fastest, so were first to be in range of the massed guns, but they were ignored. With the two tractors bearing down on them they were considered a waste of bullets. The ones close to the road slightly further back were the first to taste the impact of the guns. With the distance it took a precise shot to bring one down. It the first volley dozens of bullets found a target, it would have been hard to miss, but only four of the advancing crowd were stopped, decorating those behind them with blood and brain matter. The second volley was more successful, and by the third almost every shot finished off a target, but there were not enough guns to make a big dent in the numbers attacking.
The tractors crashed in at the same time as the fourth volley. The road was too narrow for them to move side by side, so they were staggered, covering as much road as possible. Their top speed wasn’t high, and they hadn’t had enough road to reach it before they collided, but the carnage they wrought was impressive. 8 tonnes worth of tractor at the front smashed through a dense crowd of lightweight humans. There were enough of them that it was slowed enough for the following vehicle to put a dent into the back of it.
Up front every spike that had been welded onto the front found multiple targets. Blood sprayed across the front of the tractor, leaving the driver blind. Plenty of heads were smashed open, but more were impaled through the body, or severing limbs. Those ones survived, and, oblivious to the damage they had sustained, kept trying to drag themselves up the spikes toward the driver of the tractor. The angle of the spikes meant they kept sliding away, but nothing could stop their effort. Some of those who fell off found themselves under the wheels of the tractors, more found themselves splattered by the home made flails mounted to the rear. A few mangled, but still mobile zombies made it out the other side, to propel themselves towards the farm in whatever way was still possible to them. Blood flowed freely off the sides of the road. The sides of the tractors were soon loaded with zombies trying to get in, but they looked unable to make a dent in the armour that had been attached.
While the tractors looked invulnerable in their initial charge, the walls did not look so safe. The thickest crowd was on the road, and was being smeared into the tarmac, but a broader attack was making its way across the fields. The guns were firing constantly, with impressive accuracy, penetrating skull after skull, with a reassuring spray of blood. An intelligent enemy would have fled quickly at the scale of the carnage. They were unarmed and being massacred, but they were far beyond feeling any fear. For all the damage that was being done to their number, they were steadily getting closer. People stood their ground, but fear was mounting behind the barriers.
A lot had been done to the ground outside the farm to prevent a quick attack. Ditches had been dug. Barbed wire placed. Every obstacle that they could easily build had been put in place. The crowd advancing on them soon found these barriers. The leaders were stopped in their tracks, and for many a bullet found their eye, passed through their brain, and exited through the back of their skull making a far bigger hole than it had on entry. But as they collapsed to their deaths, they formed a bridge for the next row of zombies to walk across. Splattered with blood and brain matter, the following rows had an easier and easier task of crossing the obstacles that had been placed before them.
The gap between the walls and the attackers narrowed quickly. The shooting became more desperate and less accurate. They needed machine guns, not single shot rifles and shotguns for this kind of fight, but these were an impossible dream. Those without guns gripped their weapons tighter. It was clear to everyone that they would be needed soon.
In the distance the tractors stopped. Front and back they were dripping with blood. Lumps of severed skin, smashed brains and crushed organs slid slowly down the spikes in front of them. Most of the flails behind were too clogged up with bones and shredded clothing to move. Both of the big wheels on the lead vehicle were punctured by shards of bone. The other tractor only had one intact. Both drivers ignored the scratching of the dead to their sides, trusting that the welding was strong enough to protect them if they could keep on moving. As one they lost their bloodlust and realized the danger that the people they had left behind were in and started the slow circle back.
The first wave of dead were outnumbered when they reached the wall, thinned out by gunfire. An organized defence loomed above them, using the height advantage they had to crash down upon their enemy, splitting skulls easily. Within seconds the numbers had turned. A growing crowd fought each other to be the first to assault the barriers in front of them.
Jose and his friends had been positioned close to the gate to the road. He climbed onto the wall and looked around him as the battle for survival commenced. In front of him the tractors had left a trail of carnage. Bits of what used to be human still moved, but nothing walked. The road was a slick red trail littered with mangled corpses and severed limbs. The tractors were now too far away, struggling to turn with damaged wheels. They had left his section of the wall safe, but to either side the infected who had been
wide of the road were massing against the people who were becoming his family.
To his left he saw that the defenders were losing ground. Zombies were mounting the walls in growing numbers, more arriving faster than they could be killed by the people who were gradually falling to the infected teeth of the dead. The only thing that was buying them time was that the zombies were stopping to tear strips of flesh from their victims as each one fell, grabbing a meal in the midst of the fight.
“Let’s go. We’ve got to help them!” He shouted to his friends, jumping down from the wall and setting off to the heart of the battle at a sprint. He was relieved to hear them following them, surprised at the battle cry they were calling, until he realized that he was leading it. The noise drew the attention of the zombies, giving the defenders a bit of respite even before they arrived to help. They had been pushed back from the wall. The rifles on their section rendered useless by the proximity. They were desperately smashing skulls with everything they had, but more were appearing faster and faster. Every step backwards relinquished more of the advantage they had with the defences they’d built.
Jose and his friends charge was enough to turn back the tide. They still had two of the hand guns that they had arrived at the farm with, and they were put to good use, bullets smashing through several brains before the axes and crow bars were brought into action. Those who had made it past the barriers into the farm were soon killed permanently and the living retook their position on the walls. With the guns back in position and dishing out rapid death, and the extra numbers they were able to stabilize their position. The pile of bodies mounting in front of the wall provided an extra obstacle, slowing the next wave enough to thin their numbers before they got into close quarters combat. They were in control, but they were tiring fast, and there seemed to be no end to the attack.
Ruth and her friends had armed themselves as well as what was left in the armoury had allowed. It was better than what they had started with, but it was clear to see that they were the last ones from the farm to lay claim to weapons. They had joined the section they had been directed to. It felt like they were a long way from the front line. Numbers were light here, and guns were really thinly spread. Ruth hoped that they were right about where the attack would hit hardest, or had planned some way to redeploy their forces really quickly.
The Farm Page 28
