“Fucking idiots!” swore Nick. “That hook gun can take a whole minute to reload and in that time they’ll be on the bridge.”
Nick was about to start his descent down the tower when the crackle of musketry indicated the arrival of the horde at the main bridge on the right. He looked across, spotting the dark mass partially obscured by the thick white smoke of the guns. The defenders on the bridge barricade were putting up continuous and reasonably accurate fire. From what Nick could tell it was an admirable showing of about two musket shots a minute, and that didn’t include the crossbows. The undead were halfway down the ridge but already the shooters had eliminated two dozen of them.
“Carter, you stay here and monitor the situation. Control the reserve, you know the plan. Artur and I will sort out Davies,” he said as he made his way down the stairs.
More gunfire echoed through the valley, the battle was now well and truly underway. As they left the staircase and made for the massive castle gates Artur appeared concerned.
“No sign of any of them from the east yet, do you think they will come?”
“In my experience they’re highly adaptable and can solve plenty of problems given sufficient numbers. Our big problem though is always the same one,” said Nick.
“Human error,” answered Artur.
“Exactly!” said Nick, as he left the castle and approached the waiting motorcycles. They were battered looking motor cross bikes and equipped with racks for weapons, as well as extra armour on the vulnerable sections.
Nick climbed on, the bike started first time, it was obviously much better maintained than its exterior would suggest. The engine roared and he was quickly joined by Artur’s bike. With a blip of the throttle Nick pulled away and headed down the hill towards the river. Artur followed him down the winding road that led to a wide open space directly in front of the smaller bridge. Ahead of them people ran, some carrying boxes, others weapons, very few though appeared to be watching the bridge.
Nick raced in, stopped near the start of the bridge and dismounted. He grabbed the first person that moved past.
“What the hell is going on here?” he shouted.
“Uh, Davies said you’d ordered the evacuation, we’re getting everything to the boats,” the man answered.
Nick held onto the man’s coat firmly.
“Where’s Davies?”
The man pointed off to the right near to where the boats were being pushed into the water. Nick spotted the balding man and his lackeys talking in a group. Nick turned back to the man.
“Forget what Davies says. If you don’t defend the bridge, I’ll take it out of your ass? Understood? Now get back on the barricade and tell everybody else the same!” he barked, whilst the confused and frightened looking man staggered over the bridge.
Nick grabbed several more people and sent them in the direction of the barricade, bolstering the numbers to over a dozen before turning back to Davies. As he moved along the edge of the river he noticed the horde were just twenty feet from the bridge’s barricaded end. A mighty blast from one of the hook guns knocked down four of the creatures, but more marched over the bodies. He was now approaching the boats and it was already clear what was going on. Food and stores were being loaded from the town’s main warehouse.
“What the hell is going on?” Nick shouted.
Davies and the rest of his group turned around to face him. Davies look nonplussed.
“What does it look like? We’re leaving,” he answered and then turned away.
Nick moved forward but one of Davies’ men stepped in the way. Artur was already there and smashed his fist into the man’s nose. He followed up with a knee into his groin that sent the man to the ground squirming. Nick grabbed Davies’ shoulder and spun him around.
“I’m talking to you. You’re taking all our supplies you fucking coward. Get back on the barricade and fight,” he shouted.
“Why? We can’t hold this place. Apparently there may be people on Lundy Island, if not we’ll follow the coast. Come with us if you want,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“You’d abandon all these people?” said Artur, already fuming.
“It’s every man for himself,” he replied.
Nick had had enough, the sound of the gunfire was increasing and it was clear the undead were now pressing the bridges hard. He pulled out his pistol and pointed at Davies’ head.
“I’m placing you under arrest, you’re a risk to this town.”
Artur reached out and grabbed him, looking around for somewhere to put him. Off to their right were several storerooms where the boats and some of the supplies used to be kept. Nick nodded.
“Yeah, put him in there,” he said.
Artur happily dragged the man off into the dark building and disappeared inside. Nick on the other hand was already heading back to the barricade and shouting at the people still moving supplies.
“All of the bridge group get back now, if you don’t hold we all die. Don’t you realise, Davies knows we don’t have enough boats? He’s trying to save his own worthless skin,” Nick shouted.
The horde was now at the wall and trying to claw their way inside. Nick had seen this many times before and mostly the numbers of the dead proved enough to break the defences.
“Come on, push them back!” he cried as he ran to the barricades.
The bridge was a small iron affair and wide enough for only one vehicle. The barricade was about twenty feet wide and about five feet high. The raised platform gave a good fighting position to strike down at the dead. Nick lifted himself up to see what he could do to help.
There were eighteen men on the platform, most firing antiquated weapons, whilst another reloaded them behind and then passed the loaded weapons back up to the platform. A zombie reached out, trying to grab at Nick. Without thinking, Nick pulled out his basher and brought it down hard onto the zombie’s head, forcing the creature to collapse to the ground. He looked up and into the distance, all he could see were zombies, there must have been three or four hundred of them. He turned back to the loaders behind them and held out his arms. Two of the women passed him a loaded hook gun. It was one of the early designs and was bigger and heavier than the more recent weapons. The gun was fitted with a burning piece of cord that was lowered by a metal section to the touch hole of the weapon. It was primitive, but simple to make and operate.
Nick lowered the weapon onto the ledge and aimed it at the mass ahead. He pulled the rough metal lever and watched the burning match cord lower to the touch hole. The homemade gunpowder fizzled and flashed. There was a brief pause then the gun slammed back hard and a massive volume of smoke obliterated his view. The sound was deafening and Nick had to hold onto the barricade to stop from falling. He turned and passed the weapon down to find it replaced with a loaded crossbow.
Nick turned back, the sound of the guns still blasting away. A tap on his shoulder indicated the arrival of Artur. He was bloodied, presumably from the fighting along the barricade, and carried his machete in one hand.
“He’s locked up, are we holding?” shouted Artur.
The smoke cleared enough for Nick to get a clean shot. He fired the weapon, sending a bolt into the head of an approaching zombie before handing the weapon back. The bodies were now starting to mass along the base of the barricade, essentially raising the following zombies by almost a foot. Artur drew his machete and the two hacked down several more creatures before stepping down. Their places were immediately taken by fresh fighters.
Nick looked around the side of the barricade, noting with satisfaction that the numbers of undead were easily half of what they had been.
“Yeah, we’re holding for now. The question is what about the rest of the town?” he said as he looked up to the castle.
The two moved back to the motorcycles that were where they’d left them. As they reached the bikes a bright flash lit up the sky from a green flare. The two men followed the trail down, noting it had come from the other end of the town.
“Shit, is that the east side?” asked Artur.
“Yeah,” said Nick, “come on, we need to get over there and fast.”
CHAPTER 5
Lundy Island, England
A week had passed with the populace having a day off from their not particularly strenuous or stressful work. Later that day the remaining islanders assembled at Millcombe House, which Roger had taken as his home along with Dave, and Steve a native of the island. Many evenings the community met for dinner at the large manor house. After all the friends and family that everyone had lost, all welcomed the evening company.
“Looks like a storm is coming in,” said Steve.
“Yes it does look that way,” said Roger.
“Have we got much firewood?” asked Dave.
“Yeah, tons,” said Steve.
Kelly placed three wine bottles down on the table near Roger for him to open, of which he began doing.
“I suspect we’ll be running low on wine before long,” said Roger.
“Yeah, well it has been almost a year since our last trip to the mainland, I’ll organise another for next week,” said Dave.
“Good chap, where would we be without wine?” asked Roger.
“Rather more sober I should think!” shouted Dave.
“And why by God would we ever want to be that?” Roger asked them.
The group chuckled as Travis and James began to bring food through, they took it in turns each week to prepare the meals. Life had become steady and consistent for all of them now, almost forgetting the luxuries they were using to in their previous lives, and the horrors of the recent years. No longer did they have guard duties, patrols and soldiers, just a simple farming community. The weapons and armour they had used to reach or defend the island were now long packed away in their homes, but always ready for a rainy day.
Later that night the islanders got up to return to their homes, having already heard the wind beating on the walls of the house. Dave opened the front door to let their friends out, but was nearly thrown off his feet by the wind which threw the door inwards, crashing again the inner wall.
“Fuck me, that’s a bit much!” shouted Dave.
“Yeah, and the rain hasn’t come yet.” James said.
“You’d best be off quickly!” Roger said.
The guests piled out of the big manor house, into the howling wind. A few hours later the storm really hit the island hard with torrential rain and gales. Slates were thrown off many of the roofs, and some windows broken by debris, it was the worst weather any of them had ever witnessed. The next morning, Roger and Dave stepped out of their home to survey the damage.
“That was a rough night.”
“No shit, Roger, we’ll have to take the day off for repairs,” said Dave.
“Yes, notify everyone, stay at home and do the repairs necessary. If you need help, come here to find it, and if you have nothing to repair, help those around you.”
“Alright, I’ll get on it,” replied Dave.
An hour later there was a ladder propped against Millcombe House and Dave was on the roof with Tommy. Neither man had even been on a roof before, let alone any knowledge on fixing them, but needs must as the devil drives. In the disorganised day of repairs and work everyone lost sight of the boys, Ryan and Dennis. The community let the boys play freely on the island, content in the safety their isolated community gave them.
It was two hours before anyone noticed that the lads were missing, when Sandra got concerned and started asking questions, having assumed they were safely mingling with the islanders as they made their repairs. She ran up to Millcombe House, the men could already see the worry in her face.
“What’s happened?” asked Roger.
“The boys, I can’t find them anywhere!” she shouted.
“You’re sure they are not with any others doing the repairs?”
“Yes, I checked with everyone!”
“What are you thinking?” asked Dave.
“They’re boys, they have probably just gone on an adventure,” said Roger.
“So you’re going to do nothing?” asked Sandra.
“No, of course not. Sandra, go inside and sit down, I’ll make you some tea, but leave me a minute to discuss this with Dave before he goes to look for them.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.”
She walked in through the front door, and Roger waited until she was well clear of them before turning to Dave.
“What’s up?” asked Dave.
“This is probably just kids having their fun, but this storm, and them disappearing all at once makes me just a little suspicious, or cautious at least. I want you to grab three of the guys and head out to find them, never be alone at any one time, and Dave, take weapons,” said Roger.
“You think we’ll need them?”
“I don’t believe so and hope not, but you never know, these are uncertain times, and there’s always some threat from other survivors wanting to take what we have. People are far from civil in desperate times, as we know.”
Dave walked into the big old house and went upstairs to where they kept their weapons. All of the islanders kept weapons in their homes in cases of emergency, many were close quarter weapons. He grabbed two double barrel shotguns, two bows, two satchels of ammunition and two quivers. He pulled on his leathers, a good solid lightweight protection, hoping he wouldn’t need it. Dave was startled by the sound of someone entering the room, it was Steve.
“What’s going on?”
“The boys are missing, it’s likely to be nothing, but Roger wants to proceed with caution, you coming?” asked Dave.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Alright, we don’t want to cause any panic, go grab Tommy and Jones, and meet me a hundred yards behind the house.”
Twenty minutes later the three men met Dave, confused to see him sitting with the weapons beside him.
“What are those for?”
“We’re going looking for the boys who have gone missing, Tommy. We have no reason to believe there’s any risk to us, but that is not a reason to be careless. They’re probably just messing about and having fun, but I want us to stay safe and sensible,” said Dave.
“Where do you think they’ve gone?” asked Tommy.
“I would say the Northwest Lighthouse is most likely, it’s where I would go, the furthest point from home and a fun place to mess about,” said Dave.
He passed them their weapons, the bows to Steve and Jones, the spare shotgun to Tommy. They set out following the easterly coastline, not wanting to cross paths with the other islanders and cause them any undue panic. All of the islanders lived in the south of the island, among Millcombe House, the church and Marisco Tavern. The survivors used the fields in the south for farming, whilst the northern part of the island remained unused, apart from casual walks in their spare time.
With their weapons and ammunition slung over their backs the four men continued on across the island. It was a forty-five minute walk to the lighthouse, though they were constantly on the lookout for the boys or evidence of them. It was a quiet walk, with light rain starting early on and then pouring constantly, along with a light breeze.
The group reached the lighthouse with no sign of any life, though Dave noticed the back door to the lighthouse was open, he shouldered his shotgun and stepped carefully towards the opening, Tommy following suit.
“You ready?” asked Dave.
“Yeah,” said Tommy.
“Go!” Dave shouted.
The two men stormed through the open door, raising their weapons as they got into the room. There was no movement at all, though Ryan’s baseball cap was lying on a desk towards the front of the room.
“They must have been here recently, Dave,” said Tommy.
“No shit.”
The two men lowered their weapons and strolled towards the front of the room where the large windows looked out to sea. Dave picked up the cap, thinking about where they would have gone next.
“What?”
“Come and check it out.”
Dave walked to the window where Tommy was still looking out. To Dave’s surprise the object he was talking about was a large fishing trawler beached on the rocks. The vessel was in rough shape, the hull smashed and breached in a few places and it was lying almost on its side, completely stuck on dry land.
“Oh shit, that’s exactly where they will have gone,” said Dave.
“Why?”
“Wouldn’t you have when you were a boy?” said Dave.
“Fuck, yeah,” said Tommy.
“Exactly.”
“What do you reckon is onboard?” asked Tommy.
“Who knows, could be empty, bodies maybe, though I don’t like the look of it already,” Dave replied.
He threw down the boy’s cap and walked out to the two men stood outside.
“The lads were here, but now we have a trawler on the rocks below. It’s likely where they went, but let’s take this easy, we have no idea what to expect, it could contain useful supplies, it could be dangerous, we just don’t know,” said Dave.
“How long do you reckon it’s been there?” asked Jones.
“I would say the storm last night chucked it ashore, someone would have spotted it if it was there much longer. Let’s get on.”
The men made their way slowly towards the stricken vessel. The dirty, smashed wreck was a depressing sight, made worse by the increasing rate of rain that was pouring down on them. Tommy took point across the pebbles and rocks to the huge hulk. He crept closer towards wreck, clearly weary and a little frightened, it was an ominous looking thing. He stopped and looked down.
“Uhhh, Dave, what the fuck is that?”
Dave stepped forwards towards Tommy’s position and looked down to see what looked like a fairly fresh pool of blood. The two looked at each other with fear, both praying that this was not the same hell they had experienced years before.
Zombie Dawn Apocalypse Page 5
