“This is for you, Dad,” he said out loud to no one, balancing the card in his other hand as he pulled his phone free from his vest.
He dialed the number quickly, unsure if anyone would pick up. The card was old, and the platoon had tightened security since his father died. The phone rang repeatedly with no answer. Nathan became impatient because he was eager to get going.
Finally, a male voice spoke through the phone. “Hello, this is Captain Eric Vander.” His voice was proper and sharp like a knife.
Nathan nervously cleared his throat. This was his moment. “I’m Specialist Nathan Davids of the United Kingdom Special Forces platoon legend 3641. We request assistance with a special mission as directed by Sergeant Terry Turner.” He tried to sound formal and urgent. He didn’t know what else to say, but he hoped it would work.
There was a pause. “Nathan Davids?” Captain Vander responded. “Are you related to Commander Hardy Davids? If so, we’ve met before. At his funeral.”
“Yes, that’s me,” Nathan said softly. “We need your help.” He hoped his voice relayed how important the mission was.
“Does this have anything to do with kicking some zombie ass?” There was a smile in his voice as he casually spoke into the receiver.
Nathan bit his lip. “It does. Do you know the situation with the queen?” he asked. He didn’t want to give too much information away in case someone was listening in on their call.
Eric cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. Someone has pinched my bottom, and I am in need of a fart,” he said. His tone sounded embarrassed.
Nathan chuckled. The EJG always had such interesting codes, and that was obviously the one being used for the situation with the queen. “Uh, roger that, Bethany Simmons. We need help in saving the fart. Meet us at Bravo Polo Whiskey in like—” he scratched his head, “—in um…” He couldn’t think of a time to tell Vander. “Soon.” He prayed that Eric Vander understood his coded talk.
“O… kay.” Nathan could hear the obvious confusion in the other man’s voice, but he didn’t have the opportunity to question it as Vander continued. “We’ll be there with lots of cookies, too,” Vander said in a rush.
Nathan knew they would need weapons, and the EJG was the most equipped military unit in the entire British forces. He hoped ‘cookies’ was code for ‘shit load of weapons.’
“Good,” Nathan replied. His father had coined that code word while eating his favorite hobnobs right before an important raid. “We have no cookies between the three Bethany’s,” he reported.
“Copy that. See you soon Specialist Davids.”
***
Captain Eric Vander put the nearly antique red phone back on its hook. It had once belonged to none other than Nathan Davids’ father, and Vander had fought to keep it when the rest of the building went wireless. He took a deep breath and looked around. He had to inform the others.
He only knew that they had to get to Buckingham Palace with weapons. He imagined they would assist in rescuing the queen who had been kidnapped. He wished they could have spoken normally instead of using the stupid code, but rules were rules. Even if it made things confusing for them, it was obvious it would be even more confusing to anyone else listening.
He rushed out of the Commander’s office, hurrying down the plush hallways to the noisy decoding room. Lines of desks hooked up to the thousands of different phone lines used in the forces, wireless lines to navy ships, direct lines to Europe’s top leaders, even communication lines to the British orbiter flying around the Earth.
Captain Vander slid the note across the desk of his trusted friend Irene. The aged woman had thick, grey curly hair which she always pinned back. She stared at the paper through her thick spectacles. Her lips pursed together in concern. She immediately stood, knowing this was important.
“Her majesty needs us,” she informed Captain Vander. “I’ve been deciphering code since we were at war with the Nazis during World War Two, and I have never felt a more urgent need than now.”
Captain Vander had to work to keep up with Irene who was powering down the aisles of desks to the head office. A large, busy man sat at his much-too-large desk. He knew the situation in Europe wasn’t good, but it was obvious he didn’t expect what was coming.
Irene tapped the glass. Not waiting for a response, she pushed the door to the office open and walked in. “Chief Admiral Churchill, Her Majesty needs us,” she said with the same urgency as before.
Chief Admiral Churchill stroked his large mustache. He had been head of the EJG for a long time, and he’d been waiting for a call to save the queen. “Finally,” he boomed, sitting upright in his plush chair. “Get the troops ready, Captain Vander. I’ll brief them in five minutes.”
Captain Vander nodded before he rushed out of the office, leaving Irene and Churchill behind him. He was ready to complete his patriotic duty. He had served on many elite missions, and this one would be the cherry on top.
He stopped in his tracks, glancing out of the large window that overlooked the car park at the back of the building. More zombies now crawled around. One raised his head and stared into the frightened eyes of Captain Vander. He didn’t stay another moment before rushing back to assemble the troops.
***
Specialist Nathan Davids gripped the intercom in his hands. He had to report to Sean about the situation, but he wasn’t sure how. With the confusing code, it was hard to say what would happen. He rolled the words around his head, but nothing sounded right.
“AAARRRGGHHH.” The scream from Sean echoed around the three Land Rovers.
Sean slammed on the breaks, screeching to a halt in front of a swarm of zombies that had blocked the entrance to the main road. There was no way around them. Sean reversed a bit, wanting to ram right through the zombies with his powerful vehicle.
“Sean, wait,” Ryan, said into the intercom. “If the three of us line up side by side and move together into the zombies, we might be able to get through.”
Ryan didn’t want to leave any of the grueling figures standing. It would mean more of the enemy to beat later. He wanted to nip them in the bud.
It was a good idea, and it would buy time. “I like the idea,” Nathan said into the intercom.
Sean knew it was the best chance they had if they wanted to make it through. “Okay, let’s do this thing quickly.”
Nathan backed his vehicle up, giving Ryan enough space to reverse into position. Nathan could see the space to the right of Sean, it wasn’t wide, but it would work.
“Now, Nathan, think skinny thoughts…” he whispered to himself edging into the small space beside Sean.
The three Land Rovers sat side by side. The road was too small for the wide machines, but the zombies took up every inch of the tarmac. The morning drizzle added to the mood, giving a fresh dash of reality to the three soldiers. Normal life had suddenly become fighting zombies and the controllers. That had become an expected part of their day.
Sean inhaled deeply. He was afraid the three Land Rovers would hurt each other more than the zombies in front of them would.
Ryan looked at Sean as the rain dribbled down the windscreen, making his friend a blur of emotions. He used to love watching the rain roll down the window. He would sometimes root for a raindrop and watch the two race down the glass to the finish point.
Nathan did his best to focus on the zombies in front of him. The conversation with Captain Vander had made him think about his father. He’d become even more aware of the dog tags in his chest pocket. They weighed his heart down with a slight sadness. He always wanted to make his father proud by following in his footsteps.
“Let’s do this, guys,” Sean said, cleaning his windscreen of the falling rain.
Sean inhaled deeply, not feeling ready to ram a large group of zombies in the Land Rover. It wasn’t the same as what they’d done at the power plant. He pushed the accelerator like his foot was made of lead, and the Land Rover slid forwards alongside the others.
The t
hree vehicles moved uniformly forward into the line of zombies. The first monsters were unprepared, falling under the bodywork of the powerful machines. The second wave seemed to have a few with instincts. They backed away as the Rovers powered forward.
“They’re backing away!” Ryan yelled into the comm. He had never seen zombies retreat before.
“Are they being controlled?” Nathan asked in concern.
Sean sighed. Of course, they were being controlled. The mission would be far from easy with everything that could and would go wrong. “I would assume so,” Sean added.
The zombies continued to retreat as the Land Rovers powered forward. Sean continued to follow the road around, following the zombies. He wondered about their current behavior. He had never seen the zombies act like humans. It seemed the controller knew exactly what they were doing—which was more than a little scary
“What the fuck is going on?” Sean said with annoyance into the intercom. Deep down he knew what was happening. He knew there was a stranger somewhere calling all the shots, and he and his unit were little more than mice to the cats. Still, knowing didn’t stop his irritation and inability to understand why people would go so far to gain power or hurt others.
“I’m going to punch it,” Ryan said with an annoyed tone that matched Sean’s as he gave the Rover more power.
The Land Rover sprung forward and trundled quickly to the retreating zombies. Machine met gnarled flesh quickly as Ryan collided repeatedly with the monsters in the road.
Nathan didn’t like Ryan’s actions, but it was better than crawling along towards the queen who was in real danger. Shoving his Land Rover into gear, he quickly joined Ryan in mowing the zombies down with their vehicles. He knocked one down and heard the squelch of the zombie beneath his chained tire.
In the remaining Rover, Sean slowed down to watch his friends kill the zombies in their path. He scanned the horizon, looking for their controller. He knew they had to be close.
He expected to see a hunched over old man loitering on the side of the road, or an uptight man in an expensive helicopter flying low over the carnage. Instead, all he could see was a well-dressed woman in a BMW. She concentrated on her lap, and she looked concerned.
“Mate!” Ryan’s voice called Sean back to the now empty road.
Sean pushed his focus from the woman in the BMW to the road. Zombies were everywhere, and track marks where the Land Rovers had smashed their way through the mass tarnished the pavement.
He nodded as he joined the short convoy. “Sorry, just looking at that BMW. Seems odd. Do you think she could be the controller?” he told Ryan and Nathan as he followed them down the road.
Ryan saw the BMW in his wing mirror, and he looked at the woman inside. “She must be pretty dumb to hang around an area like this, but she sure as hell doesn’t look like any diabolical genius I’ve ever seen, and we’ve met a few assholes.”
Sean shrugged, knowing he was right. They had seen more than their fair share of crazies, and she didn’t look the part. The zombies were off the road, and the queen was in danger. There were more important things for him to worry about than fancily dressed women in expensive cars.
Chapter Four
Harry, George, and Isabella stood motionless, listening to the bush gargling. They froze still as the rain continued to fall. Zombies were close, and they couldn’t see Oliver anywhere.
“We should go,” George said nervously as he brushed the rain from his cold face, pulling his bike to his side.
Harry nodded, his attention still focused on the bush. “Yeah, good idea,” he muttered, not caring about the hair dripping in his face.
Isabella didn’t say a word. She’d heard the same noises in the greenhouse behind her house. It sounded familiar to plants draining and irrigating properly. She stood frightened, wondering why the gurgling plant bothered her.
It’s just a simple plant.
George swung his leg over the crossbar of his bike. He didn’t know what his friends were waiting for, but he couldn’t stay put another moment longer. He pushed his feet along the muddy ground, and his front tire dug deeper into the fresh sludge that surrounded them.
He tried harder but got nowhere. “Oh, for cheesy fuck’s sake!” he cursed, struggling to wheel his bike free from the sticky trap.
Harry and Isabella could hear George struggling, but they had to get moving. Harry rushed clumsily to George’s side to see that the mud had hold of the front of his bike. Isabella then jumped into action, pulling the bike out of the ground.
The two boys stared in amazement at her. They didn’t realize she was strong enough to beat a mud pit they couldn’t even manage to get the better of.
George panted heavily, and his pants groaned at the seams. “Thanks, there mate,” he huffed. “Now can we go?” he added impatiently.
Harry and George walked on either side of the bicycle. The mud was far too thick for them to ride in, and the continuous rain made their progress slow.
The water clung to his grass-stained clothes, and muddy stripes covered his face. His newspapers were long gone, and his bike creaked and struggled in the mud. He ached all over and secretly longed for the action to be over. He always liked the thought of being a hero, but he hated the physical demands of heroism.
Isabella guided the two boys to the gravel path. The rain had soaked the stones to a slippery dark tinge. “Well,” she began, picking her way across the pebbles as she spoke, “plants need to be healthy like humans, and to do that, they need rain.”
Harry nodded slowly. The plants weren’t an issue. It was the zombies and not a bunch of foliage. He followed along closely as Isabella spoke, in case she said anything about how to kill zombies with a potted plant.
“The draining process requires someone to tend to it, cut it, and guide the water into a noninvasive space so it can drain properly.” She reached the edge of the pond and stopped.
A zombie was stuck in the middle of the pond, confused and trapped in its watery prison. It snarled and growled as it slowly fought to move closer to land.
“So, you’re saying there’s a zombie gardening enthusiast?” George said quickly. He only heard part of the conversation.
Isabella chuckled. “No, I mean that someone has tended to the garden, and I think they may be immune to the zombies.” She let her voice drift off. The idea sounded wrong, even though there weren’t any other options.
Harry mulled the words over. He remembered a Dwindling Fire episode where the zombies were controlled by a central hub in The Hague. Daines had struggled to figure it out because it seemed too obvious that there were humans controlling the zombies. It seemed plausible but unrealistic. He couldn’t understand why people would want to unleash an army of flesh-eating monsters into the population.
“I know that seems wrong,” Isabella added quickly. She always second-guessed herself. “I just…”
Harry could see zombies ahead. “No, it’s not wrong,” he reassured her. He frantically looked for anything they could use as a weapon to fight the enemy. “It seems good actually.”
Harry glanced at the pond and then back at Isabella. She was right in the path of destruction. While they were distracted and talking, the zombie had moved closer. It now snarled and spat with each clumsy step.
The pond. It was all too perfect.
“Isabella! Look out!” George cried as the zombie got closer.
As the monster climbed up the small embankment, it took a swipe at Isabella’s feet. She whipped around at the last moment and saw it move for her. With the grace she’d learned as a gymnast, she leaped into the air, tumbling over once before landing on her feet behind the zombie.
Her shoes slipped a bit on the soggy ground, and she quickly leaned forward, planting her hands on the slight incline to stabilize herself. The zombie no longer seemed to care for her and continued to stare forward at its new target: Harry.
The snarling figure stopped abruptly and sniffed the air. He swayed gently in the light
drizzle. Harry arched his eyebrows. The behavior was unlike any zombie he had seen. The zombie remained still but unsteady on his feet. With almost mechanical motions, he stepped forward. He moved like a puppet on strings.
Harry gulped as the zombie came right for him. “What are you doing, you little bastard?” he muttered, hoping his original plan would work.
The puppet zombie lunged forward, his arms outstretched for Harry, but he was too quick for the long-armed enemy. At the last second, Harry ducked under the zombie’s outstretched hands, and he threw himself to the pebbles before rolling as quickly as he could towards George.
The zombie spun around quickly, obviously unprepared for the swift actions. He lost his balance and now teetered dangerously close to the embankment near the pond. It wouldn’t take but the slightest misstep to fall backward and roll back into the icy water.
“Hey, zombie scum!” Isabella said loudly. “Chew on this!” Now standing firmly on level ground, Isabella rushed over and squarely kicked the zombie in the chest, sending him flying back into the water below.
Isabella bowed slightly as Harry and George gawked at the sight in front of them. Harry pulled himself to his feet, brushing pebbles from his clothes and skin. Isabella had impressed him.
George grinned from ear to ear. “That was bloody brilliant!” His impossibly large smile seemed to grow. “Way better than my silly garden gnome!” He was jealous that he hadn’t been part of the action.
Harry placed his hand on George’s shoulder. “Ah, but not as fun as the gnome,” he said lightheartedly.
George shrugged. “I suppose. Where’s Oliver?” he asked, remembering he hadn’t seen the other boy since he was rescued.
Harry and Isabella exchanged nervous looks. They’d left him on a bench by the pond, fiddling with the newly acquired rifles, but he was no longer anywhere in sight. The benches close to the pond were empty with the soft rain sliding down their stony structures.
Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3 Page 3
