by D G Leigh
“How're we going to get rid of him?”
“Why do you keep asking me questions? Why don't you give me some bloody answers for a change?” Suddenly the dumbest idea swirled in Leslie's head. “I've got it!”
--- Seven ---
“This is plain suicide. I won't let you do it.” Jo protested even though at the same time assisting Leslie with preparations. They'd taken cushions off chairs used cling film to wrap them round the kitchen's sack barrow. A pair of oven gloves to protect his exposed hands.
“I don't want to hear it.” Took several huge mouthfuls of alcohol. “You saw the video. Won't attack if I'm drunk.”
“Those were plantdrones. We don't know if this will work?”
“This is for when I open the rear exit.” More booze went down his throat. “It's a juvenile at the moment. Soon it'll be too cumbersome for me to wheel. If I sling it in the freezer eventually it'll pierce the steel casing. Its got to go out outside. When I was on the roof the pods didn't release their darts until Steve started shouting and flailing his arms. I'll be alright. Slow and steady wins the race.”
Susan returned from the counter. She wore the large riot helmet, kept lifting it up to see where she was going. Handed Leslie the breathalyser. “Mission accomplished.”
“We don't know how intoxicated you'll have to be? If this doesn't work you'll need to know a benchmark to drink beyond.” Breathed into the machine. Beeped its results. “Three times the legal limit.”
“I don't think that's enough. Steve had been drinking all night and those frat boys were so wasted that the end of the world didn't bother them at all.” Jo offered Leslie another bottle.
Leslie refused. “I don't want to lose concentration with the task at hand.” Straighten his slouch. “You two should get below.” Kissed Jo smack centre on her lips then apologised straight afterwards. “Sorry, must be the liquor!”
Jo immediately kissed him back. “Hope not!”
--- Eight ---
Leslie merrily waved his arm round the ajar door. The plant detected movement but didn't release its pellets. Wheeled the trolley in, scooped its lip under Steve's compost corpse. The bamboo needing very little anchoring. A human basin enough footing for growth. A few toe roots coiled themselves around the table's legs. As Leslie unravelled the thin vines the ejection nodules homed in. He'd taken with him a stack of tin cocktail shakers, placed each mixing cup carefully over the exit tubes.
“It's rude to point.” Leslie's voice muffled through the gas mask. Un-cuffed Steve's wrist. His whole arm sucked dry of fluid. “This is what happens if you swallow apple pips!”
Gingerly transported the plant through the diner towards the back door. Stopping to slide the drinks machine to one side. Jo and Susan waited in the basement listening to Leslie's cautious progress overhead. If it all went terribly wrong Jo would have to deal with a dart-bamboo bush in the middle of the restaurant plus a rampaging Leslie-drone. He'd given her both guns.
A cheerful knock on the hatch let the girls know it's safe to come up. Jo didn't unbolt the latch straight away. “Who is it?”
“The Jolly Green Giant!” Leslie walked off to finish the bottle.
--- Nine ---
Leslie slept for the rest of the afternoon. The rain started again, spreading the weed's domain. Susan laid the table for Jo and Capitan Trips to have a tea party, reserved a setting for Mr Leslie if he woke up. During dessert the walkie-talkie squawked, this wasn't make believe, police standard emergency equipment hardened against an EMP following the 911 attacks. Jo picked up the radio.
“This is Reverend William Stanswick. I'm speaking from Saint Augustine's Mission. I'm talking to any that's in range of my voice. We're evacuating the city at first light tomorrow. We can provide safe passage.”
--- Ten ---
“You did what?” Leslie roused by the noise of Jo moving food packages to the front entrance. He's headache wasn't caused by a hangover but what she'd just told him.
“I told Stanswick where we were.” Jo defended her actions. “We can't stay here.” Motioned Leslie to take a gander for himself. “Take a look at the bamboo. The town is turning into a jungle. We need to leave or we'll be trapped here with dwindling supplies. Those creatures won't back off. Increasing in numbers. They're almost twelve deep all around this building. With one single goal, to get us.”
“How'd you know these aren't armed men coming to take our food or worst?” Leslie punched the air. What had she done?
Jo knew what Leslie was insinuating. “I can take care of myself.”
“Don't be angry Mr Leslie. I want to go too.” Susan packing her own travel box with colouring pencils. “There's other children there for me to play with.”
“You spoke with them?”
“Yeah, it sounds nice at their house. You can play in the garden.”
“Garden?” Outside? This wasn't making sense. “Where's their house?”
“That's the first thing I asked.” Jo's face lit up with a spark of hope. “It's going to be alright.” Written in shorthand the information on a napkin. A useful skill needed when attending college lectures. “There's an abandoned leprosy colony. Located at an end of a valley, sealed off by the collapsed volcano wall. Sheer vertical cliffs impossible for those things to climb over. William's congregation restored the eighteen century settlement to its original state, no microchips, no cell phones, and other no technology to go wrong. Self-sufficient, everything works. It's hidden and isolated. Their community uses it as a Bible study camp. Living in harmony with Mother Nature. The land belongs to the church but the navy rents part of the area due to strategical advantages. During the Second World War the military built a bunker plus fresh water storage tanks inside the lower rise of Mauna Kea as a contingency plan if the Japanese ever dropped chemical agents. The government still keeps them topped up in case of a natural disaster. All one hundred and twenty-five million gallons worth. Access to the installation plus the whole three acre enclosure, including a farm is only reachable through lava tunnels. It's perfect.”
“That's a lot of open country to cover between here and there.” Leslie had struggled to push the Steve/plant against the deep layer of plantdrones surrounding the diner.
“It's a private road, not marked on any maps, it'll be clear. Reverend William's church operates a 1930's bus that can't be neutralized by an EMP. Uses a military grade radio system for that very same reason. Conducts sermons over the evening airways. His followers have been preparing for a cataclysm event.”
“Bully for them!” Leslie's wasn't warming to the group. “Sounds more like a doomsday cult than Godly folk. We need be cautious.” Took an over active interest with Susan's colouring box. “What about the red weed? It's everywhere.”
“Apparently natives painted the gully walls with something? In hope of quarantining the spread of leprosy. Nothing's grown on the rocks since. William's clan struggled but managed to cull the saplings.”
“Alright then.” Leslie clapped his hands. “We'll have a grand final banquet tonight fit for a king, queen and a princess. I saw a whole shelf of ice-cream in the freezer.”
“Don't forget Captain Trips.”
“He'll be our honoured guest at the head of the table.” Leslie bowed. Everybody's spirits jubilant. Tomorrow was another day.
* * * * * *
Zero Day + Two
--- One ---
The darkest dawn in history bestowed mankind.
Every patch of soil raped. Garden, hedgerow, embankment, field and park sprouted towering monsters. Red bamboo trunks thirty-seven metres in circumference and over five hundred metres tall, twenty times higher than an average woodland tree. Far beyond the growth that any botanist believed possible. Dwarfed everything on the island. Encroaching branches smashed buildings. Roots dislodge road surfaces, diagonal slabs of tarmac like an alligator's back.
Reverend Stanswick's church bus grinded along side Mel's diner front entrance leaving no gap for zombies to shimmy through.
Power gone, Leslie having to crank the metal shutter manually. The restaurant's porch formed a safe conduit between the vehicle and the building. Three plantdrones trapped inside the corridor swiftly dealt with by the coach's driver, Mr Jonathan Jones Jenkins, JJ to his friends.
William rotated the large metal arm that concertinaed the passenger door. Leslie recognized the man standing boldly in front of him as the gospel Preacher he'd seen from the television chat show.
“The Lord's Arc has arrived.” William placed a firm hand on Leslie's shoulder barring entrance. “Do you have faith my son?” Two well armed clergy bodyguards, fingers on triggers, stood ready.
Leslie answered honestly. “No!” Who would considering the last two days?
An awkward moment of no transition. “Well we've got plenty and it doesn't take up any room.” William boomed an almighty laugh. Jostled Leslie onto the bus. “We don't allow weapons brother.” Eyeing the shotgun. “My apostles will take care of your safety.”
“If it's all the same to you I'll rather hold on to it.”
“A stranger with empty hands can receive many gifts. A warrior with a weapon is burden with what he must drag.”
The charismatic Minster's grace and tone pacified Leslie's dependence. Subconsciously relinquished the12-gauge and emptied his pockets without another thought. Took his place with six other rescued haggard citizens. All sat on aisle seats away from the meshed windows. Zombies congregated around, new activity excited them. The church transport improvised in many ways surprisingly to deal with this exact eventuality. A snow plough, splattered with blood and plant pulp, mounted to the front. A problematic item for sure to source on a tropical island the battle-bus' most notable accessory.
Not all the passengers where strangers. Professor James Osborne, the second guest speaker from the studio had also survived. His crisp shirt stained with blood and oil. Tim Matthews and him evacuated channel KPH building together. Reached the underground parking lot just as the garage shutter gave way allowing the undead to swamped in. Tim got bit. James managed to wedge himself underneath the last mobile camera van. Rolled out in front of Reverend William's departing lino.
Polynesian Consuela an office cleaner locked herself in the consulting rooms of Douglas, Brown & Taylor private security, opposite St Augustine's Mission. When hunting for food she found a police issue Colt M1911 hidden behind coffee refills. Gunned her way across the road to Minister's battle-bus.
A year older than Susan, Akamu, the native boy she'd chatted with over the radio. On the morning of the outbreak he was working at Banyans Golf Club collecting lost balls. Chased by infected golfers. After he scaled Hilo international airport's high fence got picked up by security. Taken to the detention block. Turned out to be one of the safest places. Left alone whilst the officers went to sort out an altercation between a group of passengers. Akamu heard singing from the only closed cell. Slid the viewing window open. A recurring knee injure had finally ended Oliver Mitchell's illustrious baseball career. Cut loose from his contract he'd taken to heavily drowning his sorrows in the departure's lounge bar the night before. Became verbally abusive to ground crew after being refused boarding. The result cost him time in lock-up and a pending charge of drunk and disorderly.
Corporal Eugene, US Infantry. Humvee driver. His boot camp instructor told him he had lead feet which made him the number one volunteer for advance driver's training. An adolescence bet with a rival cadet that he could preform the stunt lap your own car with a powerful hummer got him in hot water with a superior. Unaware the vehicle he'd chosen to attempt the feat with was a Middle East commission. Sluggish and stubborn to handle due to the additional weight of armour plus newly fitted with a get out of dodge mechanism. If sensors detected a motionless driver for longer than twenty seconds the personal carrier increased speed for a further three seconds believing that the convey had come under attack getting the rest of the troops away from danger. The fail safe system triggered as he crossed the roof.
Not much damaged, if any, was done to the workhorse Humvee but the five cars he wrecked careening into the Veterans Services office's car park really got the General's goat. An additional punishment, besides footing the bill, painting the motor pools' depot garages.
There were many failures, most certainly avoidable that central command made on Zero-day. Deploying an uncertified driver behind the wheel of a M1117 Commando truck wasn't one of them. Walking across the compound's yard while carrying ladders Corporal Eugene ordered to drive and position the menacing combat vehicle prominently outside Hilo International in an effort to settle down civil unrest until the over stretched local police arrived on the scene.
The plague spread fast through the thronged terminus. One armed cop to every hundred desperate people seeking protection. Trapped passengers released the emergency exits as their plane got overrun. Fleeing the gantry people cascaded onto the runway. A 737 on final approach, too late to pull up. Jet wash tore through the mob. Rag doll bodies flew spinning into the air.
Oliver emerged from the airport's security entrance swinging a steel post normally used to rope off sections. Akamu clung to the athlete's back as the ex-baseball player knocked any would-be biter asunder. These were the only two Eugene managed to save from the slaughter.
--- Two ---
Susan and Jo scuttled aboard. The vehicle rocked vigorously side to side from gathered numbers of zombies. More streaming in from surrounding areas.
“They know we're leaving.” James lectured. A blow by blow field study. “They've called for reinforcements.”
William swung the hand locking the door. “God's work here is complete.” Tapped JJ on the shoulder. Already driven through zombies to get here. Force of speed helped him plough apart hordes of infected but from a standing start the tyres couldn't get enough traction. Combined plantdrone torque held them steadfast.
Jo rose from her seat. “Don't leave the supplies?” Susan's worthless colouring box among the crates of food and water. “At lease take the top box, it's spare ammunition.”
William not interested. “No need. Our retreat has all the provisions we require. Fear not sister. The Divine shepherd watches over his folk.”
The bus' wheels span. “The shepherd needs to give us a push!” JJ tried reversing, still no good.
Both Leslie and Eugene rushed to the front at the same time. Eugene took over from JJ. Leslie wanted the door reopened. William refused Leslie's request point blank. Zombie fists bashed the windows. The racket horrid.
“I'm not going back for the boxes!” The bus' exposed laminated glass began cracking under the pressure of ghoulish hands. “Let me out. I'll get those things off.” Leslie turned to Eugene. “Once you're free swing round the rear and pick me up.” Looked him dead in the eye. He'd never met the man before, now entrusting Eugene with his life.
“Leslie?” Jo a few rows behind. Not close enough to hear his discussion with William or Eugene.
Leslie smiled the type of smile you give somebody when you know it's a long goodbye. “I left the oven on!” Saluted Susan.
“God be with you.” William blessed. Offered him his shotgun back. Released the door. Leslie dashed off without the weapon.
--- Three ---
No time to lower the metal blind, zombies free to pile in once the vehicle pulled away. Leslie knocked over the supply boxes, discreetly picked something up from the clutter. Hid it under his shirt.
Ripped a fire-blanket off the kitchen wall. Used a carving knife to centre punch two eye sockets in a plastic mop bucket. Turned the gas stoves valves fully on. Wedged open the double doors. Finally before exiting through the skylight lit a dust sheet with a candle.
The next time the stranded bus passengers saw Leslie he was standing on Mel's roof with a bucket over his head wrapped in a fire-blanket taunting plantdrones. Moved to the side, miraculously they followed. Herded them away. Eugene nudged the coach forward, gently parting the walkers with its ram. A gap opened up for him to accelerate. They were mo
ving. Not the smartest idea Eugene blasted the horn once. Every infected mutant hissed. Did they realise the bus was free? Susan watched from the rear of the coach as zombies piled through the diner's accessible front door. They'd wanted in for a long time.
Eugene drove away from the restaurant. Leslie saw them leaving. “Take good care of my girls.” He uttered. It wouldn't be long until the gas burners ignited. Thankful he wouldn't be turned into one of those saps he could hear rummaging below.
Jo shrieked. “Where the hell are you going?” An enraged women far more dangerous than any biter. “You must go back. You have to go back.”
Eugene busy. “I've got to come from the other side. Proximity of the bamboo means I can't squeeze through.” His driving skills apparent as he skidded the eighteen ton bus round a tight corner and back towards the diner. Dodged multiple bulging stem growths that littered the street like vertical mines. Swerved the battle-bus from one side to another. Gave the plantdrones a merry chase. “I'll get as close as I can.”
