Zombie Apocalypse Boxset [Books 1-2]

by Hatchett

  Isaac skipped down the four flights of stairs and flung open the heavy South facing door at the bottom. He looked back to find the other two weren’t behind him so he stood there with a frown on his face. Eventually, Grace in her high heels, and Zak, who was stuck behind her, both turned the last corner and made their way down the last few steps towards Isaac who was now looking decidedly unhappy.

  “Come on, come on!” Isaac shouted, “Judge is waitin’.”

  Grace and Zak followed Isaac out of the building, the South facing door slamming shut of its own accord behind them. The drizzle continued to hit them head-on as they walked along the rutted pathway, the grass borders on either side now just bare earth from people taking short cuts to wherever they were heading.

  The pub was just a hundred yards or so away. Although its actual name was the ‘Dog and Bone’, the locals referred to it as the ‘Dog’. It was a flat roofed building which stood on its own in a barren and litter-strewn landscape. Despite having Christmas lights which stayed up all year round, it was hardly a welcoming beacon of warmth. The window panes were opaque due to the dirt, the dark green painted wooden window frames were worn and peeling. The signage was bleached and almost unreadable, and the front door could be opened with a decent gust of wind.

  As Isaac, Grace and Zak approached the door, they could see other people they knew heading in their direction, obviously part of the same summons. They nodded a greeting to the newcomers and entered, Zak holding the door ajar for other arrivals, then made their way across the cracked linoleum floor to the bar. The noise in the bar was subdued, just a few older locals were dotted around the room, sitting on worn rickety chairs and smoking despite the ban; no coppers would be seen anywhere near the pub unless a death had been reported, and only then if they came mob-handed. There was a layer of smoke swirling around the ceiling, a mixture of cigarette and pot smoke, and it took a while to adjust to the atmosphere when you first entered the premises. Some of the old boys were reading that day’s edition of The Sporting Post. The poor sods could make a couple of pints last all afternoon, all focus and attention on their paper and the portable TV in the top corner of the room, tuned to the racing channel with the volume turned up, waiting to see if their few quid on the gee-gees would come in and pay for their tab and extend their stay into the night rather than having to go home. Most of them wouldn’t know a winner if it landed in their lap; they were the sort of people who would lose if they were betting on a replay.

  “Hi Ma,” Isaac acknowledged his mum behind the bar, “two pints and whatever she’s havin’,” he ordered, nodding in the direction of Grace. “On the slate.”

  “I’ll have a lager please,” Grace added with a smile.

  As his mum went to pull the pints, the landlord, a grizzled old fart by the name of Arnold, shuffled forward and lisping through broken teeth told the boys that the Judge was waiting in the back room.

  Once poured, the boys picked up their drinks, took a sip to avoid spillage, and headed through the smog towards the back room.

  “You stay here with me sugar,” Samata said kindly to Grace, as they both watched the boys go.

  2

  Day 1 – 11:45

  The Dog and Bone, Stepney, East London

  Isaac opened the door with the sign ‘Toilets’ above it and entered a short passageway, Zak close behind him. He walked a few yards, passing the toilets on his right before he came up to a couple of large bouncer-types blocking the passage a few yards before a second door at the end.

  The men blocking the door were known as Bill and Ben. No one knew their real names, and probably couldn’t pronounce them if they did. Bill and Ben tried to step aside and breath in, but the corridor wasn’t that wide.

  “Tools?” Bill asked as Isaac tried to squeeze through the small gap. Just as well he was slim.

  “Of course!” he replied in disdain, pushing through the last bit.

  “Don’t hurt yourself then,” Ben added with a snort.

  “Regular fuckin’ Chuckle Brothers you two,” Isaac retorted once he was out of their reach. He opened the second door and entered the back room.

  The ‘back room’ or ‘function room’ took up the whole width of the pub and was around fifteen metres by twenty metres. The windows were blacked out and light came from various spotlights in the ceiling and walls. It was partly carpeted with a small hardwood dance floor in the centre, surrounded by numerous tables and chairs, and had a second bar along the right-hand wall, currently closed. There was a ‘Happy 21st Birthday Suzi’ sign on the far wall which had been there since the last party a few months earlier. Isaac had enjoyed that party and enjoyed Suzi even more. It was also the official meeting place for the ‘39 Stepz’, the name of the local gang. Many of the gang members originated from West Africa; Nigeria, Ghana, Sierra Leone, the Ivory Coast, and surrounding countries. They were known as ‘39 Stepz’ as it was a play on ‘The Thirty-Nine Steps’ by John Buchan and the fact that they were based in Stepney. Very few of the gang members had any idea how the name came about and even less cared.

  The room was packed with gang members and more were joining every minute. Most were milling around talking, although a few were staring at a TV on the wall showing the news. There was a huge array of personalities and builds in the room; small and skinny, large and fat, and variations in between. There were psycho’s, jokers, thieves, and some with IQ’s which put them in MENSA’s genius category. But it wasn’t just about intelligence; it was about being street-smart, sniffing out a good earn, setting aside morals and ultimately, being as hard as nails. No one would look out for these people, so they had to look out for themselves. The ages ranged from young teenagers upwards; everyone had their uses.

  At the far end of the room under the ‘Suzi’ banner there were two large armchairs. Sitting in these chairs like the King and Queen of England were the gang’s leaders; the ‘Judge’ and his wife or partner, no one knew which, who was simply known to everyone as the ‘Jury’. No one knew their real names, where they originally came from or very much about them at all. But everyone in that room knew who was in charge and would do exactly as they were told.

  The Judge was in his late thirties or early forties, six feet two tall and well built. He had tribal scars on his face and despite already looking fearsome he could be far more violent than his countenance suggested. On his left sat the Jury; she was a beauty, petite and younger than the Judge, but also hard and merciless. No one in their right minds would cross these two; a few had tried in the past to their cost. They generated a loyal following who adhered to their code, partly through fear and partly due to the need to belong. Honour was everything and any slight was swiftly and harshly resolved.

  Isaac looked around the room and spotted one of his cousins sitting at a table to their right. He moved across the dance floor with Zak in tow.

  “Manny, wassup bro?” Isaac asked as he sat in one of the chairs.

  “Cool bro,” came the muttered response.

  “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Dunno.”

  Isaac was about to come back with a sarcastic comment about Manny talking too much when the room suddenly quietened down. Instead, his eyes followed everyone else’s towards the Judge and Jury.

  The Judge slowly looked around the room, his face expressionless. “I believe the time has come people,” he advised. “Armageddon.” He looked and pointed towards the TV and nodded to one of his men who turned up the volume. It was exactly 12.00 and the Prime Minister was on screen, about to broadcast to the nation.

  *****

  The PM looked directly into the camera lens with a harried yet sympathetic look on his face.

  “Fellow countrymen. I am addressing you today with a very heavy heart. This address is being broadcast through all television and radio channels and will be repeated so that as many of you as possible can hear it.

  The United Kingdom is in a state of extreme danger which will affect you all. A contagious virus has entered o
ur country and is spreading rapidly. There is no known cure or antidote for this virus.

  As you will no doubt have seen from the television news footage, the virus will turn the dead into zombies, bringing them back to life only to attack the living. Everyone will eventually carry this virus; there is no escape from it. Therefore, everyone dying in the future will turn into a zombie. Further, those bitten by a zombie will also turn into a zombie shortly afterwards.

  The only way to kill a zombie is to destroy its brain by whatever method available; guns, knives, crow bars and so on. I implore all of you to find shelter and safety and arm yourselves just in case. Please avoid these creatures unless absolutely necessary.

  Unfortunately, there is very little the Government can do; we are affected the same as you and the armed forces are impotent against this threat.

  I wish you all well and may God bless you all and have mercy on you.”

  *****

  The volume on the TV was muted and everyone turned back to look at the Judge, many faces looked shocked, but the vast majority were smiling as the reality sank in. No more law and order.

  “We need to get organised and quickly,” the Judge advised. “We only have a few hours at best. You will all be split into small groups and given your tasks. Do NOT let me down!” he added ominously. With that, the Judge and Jury, together with their closest friends and allies, stood and left the room, picking up their bodyguards, Bill and Ben, on the way out.

  The dozen or so lieutenants in the room started calling out names. Isaac and Zak were summoned by a lieutenant known as Mamba and quickly moved towards him, where another half-dozen gang members joined them.

  Mamba was five feet ten inches tall, thirty years old and was an experienced lieutenant, having been in the gang and worked his way up since he was fifteen. He had lost a couple of years in his early twenties when he was sent down for grievous bodily harm; the Judge and Jury had taken care of his family while he was being rehabilitated at Her Majesty’s pleasure. He was cunning, sly, and deadly, with a very short fuse. He got his nickname after the Black Mamba, one of Africa’s most poisonous and deadly snakes.

  “The Green Park Estate is our new HQ startin’ now,” Mamba advised. “Start phonin’ and get everyone we know to get their arses over there pronto. All of you get whatever weapons you can get hold of. Other groups will be raidin’ the local shops, takin’ food and anythin’ else which will be of use and help secure the buildin’. Get goin’.”

  Isaac and Zak looked at each other before turning and moving back towards the main bar.

  “Ma, get home now and take Grace with you. Take some bottles!” Isaac ordered. Seeing the look on his face, Samata didn’t hesitate. She quickly put on her coat, grabbed her bag, and picked up a couple of bottles of whisky before handing them across the bar to Grace. She then picked up a couple of bottles of vodka and told Grace to follow her as she made her way towards the exit.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Arnold screamed, as other people came out of the back room and helped themselves to bottles of alcohol before leaving the premises.

  “Betta get yourself to the Green Park Estate if you wanna live,” Isaac responded as he and Zak also helped themselves to whatever they could carry. The older locals had lost interest in the Sporting Life and the Channel 4 racing and were watching in bewilderment as the pub was quickly ransacked. Not wishing to miss out on all the fun, a couple of them left their seats and joined the rest in helping themselves.

  3

  Day 1 – 12:15

  Green Park Estate, Stepney, East London

  The Green Park Estate was a post-World War II building and looked like a derelict prison in the shape of a horseshoe. Many of the windows had their own iron bars, especially the ones on the ground floor. It was ten stories high with a flat roof and each floor had its own open-air walkway. The main entrance was at the centre of the horseshoe and anyone approaching would see a building wing on either side of them, covered in graffiti. The area in the middle of the horseshoe was known as the ‘Dead Zone’ and had been quite literally that over the years. It was barren ground, strewn with rubbish and litter, although there were currently no dead bodies. It looked like a bomb site.

  Isaac and Zak jogged to catch up with Samata and Grace as they made their way along the path to the entrance. Thankfully, the drizzle had stopped but there were ominous dark clouds still racing across the sky and the boys could feel the strengthening wind behind them, pushing them on their way. People were already moving around the Dead Zone, clearing the detritus, and beginning to build a barrier across the two ends of the horseshoe.

  Within a few minutes, the four of them had scaled the nine floors and had entered their flat a little out of breath. Samata and Grace went straight to the kitchen to make some food and drinks while the boys sat themselves down on the sofa and began calling up relatives and friends to relay the Judge’s message.

  4

  Day 1 – 13:00

  Green Park Estate, Stepney, East London

  Isaac and Zak had finished making their calls and various friends and relatives were now on their way. The TV had been on with the sound turned low, but it was clear that the zombies were spreading and spreading fast. The news reports had shown footage of zombies all over the West End and there had even been suggestions that zombies had been found as far away as Dagenham in Essex. So far, nothing had been seen around Stepney, but sirens, horns and other noises could be heard in the far distance. There was also black smoke rising into the sky from various Western locations.

  In line with Mamba’s instructions, they left the flat and walked back to the Dead Zone to find out their next tasks. There were people everywhere, many laden down with items they were taking into the building, others who were continuing to build the barrier and others that were just lazing around and smoking joints as they watched everything unfold. The barrier was already about five feet high and scaffolding was being erected to be used as a sentry platform and to enable more items to be dumped on top of the barrier and make it higher. In the centre of the barrier was a makeshift gate which involved corrugated iron being welded onto a metal frame. Several welders were finishing this job while others were welding metal spikes to the outside of the barrier and making sure any lower ground windows without bars had some other form of protection.

  Zak spotted Mamba by the scaffolding and nudged Isaac as he made his way over. Mamba saw the boys coming and smiled menacingly. He was one of the Judge’s cousins or something, and although he had some facial scars of his own, the boys were not sure whether this was due to some tribal thing or just the fact that Mamba was a serial fighter. He was the sort of person who could start a fight in an empty room. He was slim with an average build and average height of around five feet nine inches, so he was shorter than most of the people around him and looked nothing special from the outside. However, he was no less intimidating because of this; you only had to look at his eyes which were forever moving and which screamed ‘nutter’ if anyone cared to look close enough. Anyone with any sense tended to steer well clear of him if they could.

  “Good of you girls to turn up,” Mamba muttered sarcastically as he looked up into the boys’ faces, “the apron strings finally broke, did they?” he added with a sly smile. “Still, I wouldn’t mind bein’ tied to that Samata!”

  Neither Isaac nor Zak reacted and once Mamba was sure they wouldn’t take the bait he told them what was now expected of them. “The Judge likes you boys, God knows why. Anyway, he wants you on the roof. Off you go!” With that, Mamba turned and went back to what he was doing.

  Isaac and Zak looked at each other in surprise. They’d never spoken to the Judge and they didn’t think that he was even aware of them.

  They were just about to start walking back to the building entrance when one of their other cousins walked through the barrier’s entrance carrying what looked like an armful of javelins.

  “What the fuck?” Zak uttered.

  “Like my spea
rs? Nelson asked. “Me and some of the brothers’ just nicked them from the athletics track,” he added as another man came through the gap carrying a few sets of hurdles. He was closely followed by a third and fourth man carrying a large crash mat with assorted athletics equipment balancing on top of it.

  “I get the javelins, bro,” Isaac replied, “but the rest?”

  “Gotta keep fit bro, and gotta sleep on somethin’,” Nelson responded before moving on. Nelson was a bubbly character but was so laid back he was almost horizontal. Nothing fazed him, he had no real ambitions and was happy for others to lead while he followed. At six feet tall and just a few years older than Isaac and Zak, he was someone the boys looked up to.

  Other people came through the barrier’s entrance carrying assorted items and others arrived pushing shopping carts full of food and drink from the local supermarket. It was clear the supermarket staff had deserted their posts as they were helping with the transport of goods.

  The boys turned towards the building entrance before breaking into a jog, slaloming between the people coming and going in both directions. They entered the decrepit entrance hall and quickly made their way to the concrete steps and, taking them two at a time, soon made their way to the top of the building.

  They turned the final corner out of breath and started climbing the last few steps before they realised the door at the top was blocked by the same bodyguards they had squeezed past in the pub.

  “Oh fuck!” Isaac muttered under his breath, “the Chuckle Brothers are here,” he whispered.

  Bill and Ben stared straight ahead as Isaac and Zak stopped dead in their tracks, breathing heavily. They looked like a couple of giant stone statues, like the stone heads found on Easter Island. A few seconds passed without anything being said, Bill and Ben still unmoving, not even blinking their eyes. Eventually, Isaac broke the silence.