The Farm

by Carter, Stuart

  They all stood and watched as the tractors started the battle with a bloody charge through the thickest part of the crowd. They watched as the dispersed crowd of zombies either closed in on the tractors, or turned towards the walls. Saw how many were running in their direction. Saw how many were running in everyone’s direction. The numbers were huge. It was immediately clear that they’d be getting no re-enforcements. Every section was going to be swarmed.

  As soon as they were in range Ruth heard the guns either side of her firing, and saw heads cracking open, the leaders of the charge dropping to the floor. But it was two guns against hundreds. The gap closed quickly until the dead came up against the obstacles ranged in front of them. The rolls of barbed wire didn’t slow them long. The first few tripped on it, falling to the ground and providing a bridge for those behind. As they struggled to get back to their feet they tripped a few more, but they were soon pounded down by the weight of numbers behind them. The moat proved more of a hindrance. The leaders fell in, and more fell on top of them as they tried to climb out. More and more of them got in each other’s way in their desperation to get to the living bodies in front of them.

  The gunmen did all they could to thin the numbers before they reached the walls, but there were too few of them defending too long a section. Before they made it to the wall Ruth took a look down the line. She hoped to see re-enforcements heading their way. She was disappointed to see that the numbers around her were proportional to the scale of the attack. Further down the line massive numbers of dead were threatening to overrun the walls. Only the gates looked relatively safe as tractors had crushed everyone approaching. Even they looked under threat. They were virtually abandoned on the farm side, and the dead were starting to spread out and find the weaknesses in their defences.

  She had to hope that someone else was dealing with that problem. The first few zombies clambered out of the moat and advanced on the wall. The gunners took out a couple of them, but one advanced right in front of Ruth. She had a good height advantage where she stood and was able to smash her axe into its head, releasing a reassuring spray of blood. She almost lost grip on the weapon as its target fell to the floor, coming loose of the man’s skull just before she had to make the call about whether to let it go or follow it over the wall. Either side of her she heard the crack of breaking skulls.

  There was no time to look around her. More were clambering out of the ditch and closing in on the wall. The one nearest to her suddenly dropped to the floor, a spray of gore coming out of the back of its head. The guns were firing so quickly all along the wall that she had stopped hearing them. Another zombie was nearly upon her, undisturbed by the death of the one it had been shoulder to shoulder with. Ruth swung her axe again, this time connecting with the side of its head, where the bones were softer. There was a satisfying thud as she connected with her target, and they had one less zombie to worry about.

  Another was upon her before she had a chance to loft her axe for another swing. She took a step back to try and buy herself some time as it started to clamber up the wall in front of her. Simon was beside her on the wall, and smashed its head open with a crowbar, before swinging the weapon around in an arc towards the next zombie. He connected with it, hitting the side of its face, cratering its right eye socket. It fell, tripping over a couple of others beside it, but was quickly back on its feet. If it felt any pain it didn’t show it.

  Ruth regained her position on the wall and split open another head. Her axe was already caked with blood and hair. She didn’t hold the position for long. Soon they were all falling back, moving backwards step by step. Soon there was nothing to stop the dead climbing the wall, and they were getting over it faster than they could be killed. She saw someone fall a few feet away from her, and saw the start of a feeding frenzy. She was too busy fighting to survive to try and help. Once bitten they were too late to save anyway. It looked like soon they would all be joining her.

  Matthew Wood stood watching, not far behind the wall with a small group that had been held back to re-enforce the wall as needed. They had not spared many, but they were well armed. If there was a breach they need to be able to turn the tide quickly and decisively. He had already sent the two former policemen to clear one section of the wall the dead had overran, and he could see them in the distance making deadly use of the handguns they both still held at close range. He’d had to send a few people to the gate, as the path cleared by the tractors was starting to be filled, and he could see in the distance that they were struggling to turn back.

  He saw another section of the defence falling back, pushed clear of the walls by the weight of the dead bearing down on them. He sent the last of his reserves, starting to fear that he had doomed them all by convincing them to stay and fight rather than flee. The dead were starving. He could see it from where he stood. They wouldn’t be a threat forever. The section he had just seen failing was defended by his daughter.

  He wasn’t as well armed as the rest of the reserves he had held back. He couldn’t move as fast, and wasn’t as flexible as most. His reactions weren’t as fast, but he was still as strong as almost anyone there. He felt that he should be throwing himself into the fight, but if he left his post there was no one left to coordinate this. But he wasn’t sure he was adding anything now that he had no one left to redeploy. Most of the barrier was holding strong, but if one section fell they would all be open to attack from behind. Selected people on the frontline had Walkie Talkies so he could warn them, but he wasn’t sure anyone would answer them. Neither of the Tractor drivers had. If they did he didn’t know if they would be able to hear him over the noise of the fight around them, and over the incessant barking of the dogs behind him.

  The dogs had been penned in for the fight. They had proven invaluable in detecting threats, but they’d always avoided letting them loose in battle. If they could be infected then their natural use of their teeth to fight would kill them all. Each infected dog could spread the infection a long way before it was stopped. They were all desperate to get involved, to protect their pack, but he wasn’t willing to risk it. As a last resort they might be let loose. Feeling powerless he continued to scan the frontline trying to decide if it was time to deploy the final reservist.

  Cooper had been angry about being kept off the frontline at the start of the fight. His family were here and he insisted that he was there doing everything in his power to make sure they came out of this alive. He quickly bowed down to Matthew’s logic. Wherever was most dangerous he would be deployed. If all went well he might not be needed, but a few people might die who might have been saved if he had been on the frontline. But it was more important that there was someone there to help turn the tide if it went badly. To stop a few steps back turning into a panic and a massacre.

  He thought that he was going to be sent into action almost immediately as a section of their defence started to falter, but they saw Jose and his Londonders react quicker and plug the gap, securing the position. It wasn’t long until the next section started falling back and he was called into action.

  Cooper, Andrews and a few others charged in. Most of the people defending the section were dead, or had started running. The few remaining were in a hopeless position, each reduced to an individual struggle to survive against all odds. Cooper wasn’t the fastest of runners, spending far too much time sat in his car, but he trusted his shooting, and even at a run started picking off targets at the limits of the accurate range of his gun. The first couple of shots drew all attention in the area, both living and dead to him, apart from the two zombies who were the target of the two bullets. Any of the infected who weren’t actively fighting a target zeroed in on him and those running beside him. The living running from the fight seeing they were re-enforced turned back towards their positions with renewed hope.

  Dozens of zombies had been killed crossing the wall, but dozens more still remained, and more kept joining them. The breach in the defences was widening as those on either side were
overwhelmed. The first gun shots drew all attention in their direction. People who had been giving up hope found new strength as the numbers attacking them were drawn to the noisiest group of the living, who quickly set about breaking open heads.

  There were plenty of bullets to deal with the dead who had made it into the farm, but re-securing the wall was a tougher fight. A thick swarm of zombies crowded on the other side, rapidly piling over the top. They had made no attempt to break down the barrier that was in their way, but by clambering over the permanently dead, and not quite dead, they had built a ramp up to the top of the barricade. It was a shifting writhing ramp, but, despite their awkward gait, many were getting up it at a run. Every time one of the zombies was killed they eased the path for the next one to replace them.

  Cooper had hoped to mount a rapid assault, clear the wall and return to Matthew ready to be deployed at the next point of weakness. It wasn’t working. The intensity of the fighting was drawing in more and more of the dead. It was a vicious circle. His gun was quickly emptied, every last bullet he carried spent. He was on the wall with the Machete he had selected for himself, struggling for breath as he swung his blade through head after head. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see others being dragged down, the flesh being torn off their bodies. He could hear their screams of pain, but he couldn’t afford to look around. Always there was another zombie closing in on him, kill or be killed. The survivors around him, similarly resolute fought on, increasingly blood soaked and weary they tried to hold their line.

  Within a few seconds of starting the charge in his makeshift tank, John had found himself blind. He was in the lead, and pushed every bit of speed he could out of the tractor. The extra weight they had welded onto it was nothing to the engine or the huge tires, but speed had never been much of a consideration in its design. But rather than try to get out of his way, which a sane crowd could easily have achieved, they crowded in front of him in ever thicker numbers. He saw the first of them impaled on the huge spikes he had mounted in front of him. Blood and guts soon splattered across the front of his vehicle, thick enough to completely obscure his vision.

  His cab was well armoured, but given time and numbers they would find a way through. He had to thin out their numbers, or the farm and everyone in it was finished. Without seeing he could easily feel the impacts he was making, each representing one less zombie threatening his family and friends. He kept the wheel straight and ploughed on. He didn’t see the cars that they had left abandoned on the road, but he felt the impact. The tractor carried on as if nothing had happened.

  Watching through the slits in the armour on either side of him he could see that he was keeping to the road. With so many corpses being dragged under the wheels he couldn’t rely on the feel of the tarmac to tell him he was still on solid ground. Frequently his view to the side was blocked by someone climbing the side of the vehicle, but they never managed to hold on for long. Between their blockages he could see the crowds that were filling the fields either side of the road. He could see those nearest were being drawn to the noise of his engine, and hoped that those further away were feeling the same pull, drawing them away from the farm.

  There was a growing feeling of invulnerability as he crashed through the dense crowd, secure in his armoured cab, when an explosion from his left almost threw the tractor onto its side. The handling had been bad, suddenly it was almost impossible to keep the tractor in a straight line. He felt the impact of the second tractor hitting the right side of him which straightened him up. It was enough, as wrestling the steering wheel, he was able to get back into a straight line. They had deflated the tyres a few days earlier. It was probably what saved him from flipping over. John was glad that is dad had won that argument.

  It was only a few seconds between the first tyre going and the second. When the right tyre burst he was more prepared to react to it. He was also moving slower. He kept his tank moving forward, and zombies kept throwing themselves in front of him. He remained blinded by the blood in front of him, but eventually realized that the road was curving to the left, meaning he had gone a long way from the farm. Too far. He realized that he had been feeling less impacts from the dead, but it was hidden by the vibrations his deflated tyres caused.

  He moved to the left, slowing to a stop, hoping the other vehicle would get past without hitting him. He assumed the other driver would be as blinded as he was. It did miss with only a few inches to spare, pulling up not far ahead of him. He could hear it rather than see it, so could only hope that the other driver would come to the same conclusions that he had. They had gone too far. They needed to turn back. The fields were too thick with the advancing dead and they needed to help defend the walls.

  John tried to turn his tractor around. He was blind in front and behind. Within seconds of stopping he found the dead climbing the sides tearing at the armour that was protecting him, leaving him in a darkened shell. A wall of crimson in front. A wall of crimson behind. A moving mass of darkness to either side. His wheels, shredded by broken bones spun as he tried to move backwards.

  In a moments respite Jose saw that the area in front of the road that they had been supposed to be defending but had abandoned to support another section, was starting to allow the dead to enter the farm. Their numbers were small, as most were drawn to the sound of the heavy fighting, but they would be deadly approaching people from behind while they concentrated on the fight ahead of them. He wanted to call his gang off this fight to go and secure the gate they had abandoned, but before he could issue any commands he found he was facing down another two hungry assailants. They would have to rely on Matthew’s re-enforcements to keep the line secure.

  Ruth felt that each additional breath that she drew was a bonus. They had lost the wall, and were just trying to survive with every step back that they took. They kept killing, but it seemed to have no effect on the number in front of them. The only thing that kept most of them from running was that the dead were too close. There was no escape.

  The roar of chainsaws changed everything. She chanced a look around at the same time that those attacking her did. Half a dozen men, all armed with chainsaws, with facemasks and thick leather clothing covering every inch of them threw themselves into the battle. They crashed into the fray with momentum leading them forward through the mass of zombies. Heads were targeted, and were quickly split or severed. Limbs that found themselves in the way flew into the air. Sprays of blood painted the whole scene red. It was a messy advance, driving towards the wall without systematically killing off all of the dead that they passed. They relied on those they had just charged past to clear their rear. Ruth, her friends, and the strangers around them, all obliged, now freed from certain death, and feeling the bloodlust that the carnage around them inspired.

  They rearmed themselves with the best of the weapons that they could pick up from those who had fallen and launched themselves back into the fight. The noise of the chainsaws drew most of the attention, so they were able to pick their targets, cracking open skull after skull. It became harder and harder to lift their weapons and to swing them with enough strength to deliver a killing blow. The men with the chainsaws were bearing the brunt of the attack, and were being overwhelmed. Two were already down, food for the enemy. Ruth saw Simon pick up one of the Chainsaws that had been dropped and mount the wall they had abandoned moments before. He swung it like an axe, and it sawed through the neck of the first zombie to approach him. A woman with the saggy skin that suggested obesity in a former life, parted company with her head and fell to the ground. Her head landed several feet away. The teeth continued to make biting motions despite its new severed state. A mist of blood thickened the air.

  Cooper was itching to get back to Matthew to make sure there was no other section that needed his support, but every time he tried to turn back there was another wave of the dead closing in on them. He could barely raise his arm to fight, but every time they got close to him a surge of adrenaline pulsed through him, allowing h
im to win the mini battle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see similarly fatigued people, struggling to deliver the next swing of their weapons. He wished that he still had some bullets so he could clear a bit of ground in front of them. Give them all a few moments rest, but it wasn’t an option. One by one they were dying.

  Matthew saw his Chainsaws turn the tide in one section and re-take the wall, then get bogged down defending it. He saw Cooper and his team similarly engaged. No one was coming back for redeployment. He had no cards left to play except himself, a low card at best. Behind him the dogs barked incessantly, still keen to get involved in the fight. He still feared that they would be able to do little when only a blow to the skull seemed to have a lasting effect, and feared that they could rapidly spread the infection, but they were the only dice that he had left to roll. The line was faltering at multiple points, and people were dying everywhere. But the wall was holding, and from his vantage point he could see that the crowd was thinning. Not enough for the people in the thick of the fight to notice, but if they could hold on there would be an end to this.

  As he swung his eyes across the scene he saw that the gate was being breached where it had been left virtually undefended. The people on the wall would die if they were attacked from both sides. He played his last card, and rolled his last dice. The dogs got to the gates in a fraction of the time it took him. When he got there he saw confirmation that ripping out throats was not an effective way of finishing off the infected. He dreaded finding out the cost of this knowledge.