Zombie Dawn Apocalypse

by Michael G. Thomas

  “What was it?” Hackett shouted.

  “Hang on, I’m trying to figure it out.”

  “This is Resolution Island, please respond, over.”

  “This is base control for the Pacific Flotilla, over,” said the operator.

  “Jesus Christ! Where the hell are they?!” asked Bruce.

  “What is your position? Over,” Jake asked excitedly.

  “New South Wales, Australia, we found notes of your destination at your last location here, how many are you? Over.”

  “Just over four hundred souls.”

  “My God, we had no idea that there were so many survivors, we are two hundred and thirty two, mostly ex-forces.”

  “What are your intentions?” Jake asked him.

  “I will take this information to our leader, Dr. Garcia, and be in touch soon, over” said the operator.

  “Damn good to hear from you, son, over.”

  “Likewise, we will be in contact on the next hour, over and out,” said the operator.

  Jake put the handset down and looked at the other two men with a look of shock and excitement in his eyes.

  “This must be what is left from the Hawaii base, they would have had a fighting chance from the beginning,” said Hackett.

  “Alright, so what are we going to do about it?” Bruce asked.

  “We could do with all the help we can get, both to sustain our community, to defend it and to keep the race alive.”

  “True, and I can’t believe they are having a great time in Oz, when we left it was a hell hole,” said Bruce.

  “Do we want that many strangers on our Island?” asked Amy.

  “We need as many people as we can get, and if they have survived this long out there, they must be a capable bunch,” said Jake.

  “He’s right, and new blood is just what this island needs, it will boost morale, and having extra hands on deck is definitely a good thing,” Bruce added.

  “Alright, so we invite them to join us, all agreed?” asked Hackett.

  “Fuck, yeah,” said Bruce.

  “Definitely,” said Jake.

  “Amy, you happy?” asked Hackett.

  “Yes, as long as they do their fair share of the work.”

  An hour went by as the four islanders sat eating their meal, eagerly anticipating the next contact. The very idea of another large group of survivors in the world, and so close, was the most exciting news they had heard in years, and they could not resist discussing the exciting possibilities in a frenzy of conversation as they ate. Finally, it was five minutes to the hour and Jake went back over to his radio set, the others pulling chairs up to sit around him. They waited now, silently, intently, desperately wanting to know more.

  “Please come in Resolution Island, this is the Research Vessel Moreau, over” said the operator.

  “This is Resolution Island, over.”

  “I am Doctor Garcia, leader of the Pacific Flotilla, who am I speaking to? Over.”

  Jake handed the radio handset over to Hackett, pleased to have proven himself useful over the years of their survival, but now happy to let others take over.

  “This is Bill Hackett, I run the Island, over.”

  “Well, Hackett, I will be honest with you, we have been here for what feels like an eternity, we fight a daily battle to survive, and we are all weary of it, we are looking for a better place, over,” she replied.

  “I hear you. We have a solid community here. We lost the main island years ago and are now settled on the Five Fingers Peninsula, we could always do with more hands. You’d be most welcome to settle here, over.”

  “Bill, I was worried you’d never offer, over.”

  “We have a community that supports itself. Providing your people are willing to put in their fair share, we could make this good for us all, over.”

  “Understood. There’s not a man or woman among us who is not desperate to get away from this place. We are preparing what vessels we can muster immediately and will depart within hours, my navigator tells me it’ll be about a twelve day voyage, over.”

  “Roger, we’ll eagerly await your arrival, over.”

  “Thank you, this is exactly the sort of hope we needed, I look forward to meeting you in person, Bill, over and out.”

  Hackett put the handset down, he already had a grin on his face.

  “Alright, looks like you weren’t the only bastards to survive out there.”

  “Na, but those aren’t Aussies, those lucky bastards were probably out on the water when all this shit started,” said Bruce.

  “What about our food supplies, Bill?” asked Jake.

  “In what way?”

  “Well our farms and livestock are only just providing what we need, over two hundred new mouths to feed could create some problems.”

  “True, but the sea has plenty more to offer, and with our very own army, we may well be able to look at reclaiming ground.”

  “Fuckin’ ay,” said Bruce.

  “Still, we’ll talk to everyone tomorrow about boosting output, I know it will take time, but the quicker we get started the better.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Bruce asked.

  “Do what you always do, protect us. We need to get everyone else to work, we need new homes built, more land cleared, more food planted, lots to do, but we will always need protection. Take twenty capable fighters that you can cycle in shifts at the wall, everyone else will be getting to work here.”

  “And what about the risk from the sea we discussed earlier?”

  “Yes, to not do something about that now would be foolish, we are days away from creating the strongest community we have known since before the Zompoc. We can’t spare fighters or anyone from manual labour,” said Hackett.

  “How about the mothers? They can take shifts patrolling the coast whilst they take turns babysitting,” Amy suggested.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Bruce nodded.

  “Yeah, and it’ll only be till the fleet arrives anyway. Right, sounds like we have a strategy sorted. Bruce, attend to the wall, I will call a meeting in the morning,” said Hackett.

  Bruce hit the sack and was asleep within minutes, tired from the day, but feeling utterly relaxed in the knowledge that life was going to get so much better.

  * * *

  The sun was rising again as Bruce sat in his favourite spot on the wall looking out at the dangerous wilderness before him.

  “Woah, few more than usual!” shouted Christian.

  The guards were looking out at the creatures on the other side of the causeway, lined up at the opening, desperately wanting to reach their town of the living. Bruce didn’t even reach for his crossbow, confident in the safety in which they sat, he simply looked out at his foe, studying their blood and rot covered faces.

  “Makes you wonder if we have ever made a dent in their numbers, Bruce.”

  “Who knows, there must be thousands out there, probably tens of thousands, I doubt we have killed more than a thousand in all the years we’ve been here.”

  “You want to take the first shot?”

  “Na, mate, I’m heading to town, Hackett is calling a meeting, I’ll be back to tell you the news when it’s done,” Bruce replied.

  “Okay dokey, mate.”

  Bruce climbed down his ladder as he heard the familiar sound of Christian barking the order to fire at will, the usual cull that would take place whenever the creatures arrived at their door. As Bruce rode to the town he could already hear the bell ringing, the signal for the community to assemble in their square for a non-emergency meeting. As he rode into town the last of those not on duty were assembling and there was a clatter of chatter. Hackett let out a burst of his police whistle to draw the crowd’s attention.

  “Welcome everyone and good morning. We have some news to discuss, so I will not beat about the bush. Last night we were contacted by the remnants of the US Pacific Fleet, they are currently held up in Oz.”

  A mix of cheering and voices i
mmediately struck up, with people shouting more questions than could be heard or understood, their leader was standing on a four-foot stage they had built.

  “Alright! Settle Down! Let me speak. There are two hundred and thirty two survivors among them, and I have given them an open invitation to the Island, which they have already accepted. I know some of you may have reservations about bringing strangers into the community, but let us remember who and what we are, human. They may be the only other survivors left in this world, and together we will be stronger than ever before. Their leader has assured me that they will put their fair share into work here, and with their help, we can greatly increase the quality of all our lives, maybe start reclaiming land.”

  There were mumblings across the crowd as each and every one of them gave deep consideration to the surprising turn of events.

  “The fleet will be with us in about twelve days, what I am asking of you is to put your backs into work until then. We need our farms expanding, land cleared, new homes built, all hands on deck. We can’t do everything in less than two weeks, but let’s make a damn good start and make our new friends welcome!” he shouted.

  “Hackett, can I speak?” asked Bruce.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Bruce stepped onto the stage before the crowd, who were not entirely sure of what to think of the news, having gotten used to their routine and way of life.

  “Morning, all! I know the idea of accepting newcomers into your town may feel a little risky, but let’s not forget who we used to be. Many years ago you welcomed me, and my people into your community, and we have done each other a lot of good since. Let your fear be of the undead, and not the living. Our humanity it something we have clung onto with every fibre of our bodies!”

  The crowd’s murmurs of concern died down. They were already being replaced by hopeful sounds and words, they were starting to understand, and remember what hospitality they used to so gladly offer.

  “Lastly, they may be American, but they’re still human!”

  The crowd burst out with laughter, calming their nerves immediately.

  “Nice ice breaker,” Hackett said to Bruce.

  “Alright, so you know the deal, are you with us?!” shouted Hackett.

  The crowd cheered in support.

  “Alright! Let’s get to it!”

  They cheered in excitement, the realisation that they had something new in their lives, new faces, new possibilities, and new responsibilities. An enthusiasm spread through the survivors, driving them to work hard at expanding their town. The town’s folk toiled away for nine days like this, whilst Bruce and his people guarded the wall with no real resistance, and the mothers of the town patrolled the coast, never an incident to record.

  * * *

  Bruce’s house, Resolution Island, 2 am

  Bruce was suddenly woken by a loud crash as something slammed into his log cabin. He immediately sprung up and snatched his machete up from the table beside his bed. He could hear a howling gale outside and heavy rain beating down on the cabin. He walked to the door and pulled the latch across, but before he could push the door open it was ripped open, slamming against the outer wall. Bruce looked out, debris was smashing into buildings, much of it from the semi-completed homes they’d been working on the previous week. Bruce had never seen a storm like this, it was ravaging their town, parts of roofs had already been torn off and smashed.

  “Christ, that’s really going to fuck things up.”

  Hackett appeared from one of the buildings, fighting against the heavy wind and rain and trying to make it to Bruce. Finally he stumbled in and they fought to pull the door closed. Shaking the water off, Hackett pulled the hood back on his coat. He already looked concerned.

  “What a fucker,” said Bruce.

  “Yeah, it’s a hell of a time for it.”

  “What’ya mean?”

  “The fleet is only about two days away, who knows what a time of it they’re having.”

  “Fuck me, it doesn’t get any better, any word from them?”

  “None, but I should imagine they’re having a hard enough time of it as is, without worrying about us.”

  “I take it this isn’t a social call then?”

  “No, a storm like this could affect a lot of things, not only the damage we have already seen. Who knows what could get washed up on our shores, or other unforeseen circumstances.”

  “Alright, you want me to arrange some patrol duties?”

  “Yes, but only for the town, I don’t want anyone travelling beyond the buildings until the storm is over, it’s too risky. Get regular patrols going, hopefully by daylight this will have passed and we can assess the situation, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Alrighty.”

  “Ok, Bruce, I’ll see you at daybreak.”

  Hackett left the cabin leaving the door open, and Bruce looking out at the relentless weather, the spray already hitting him as he stood barefoot in a t-shirt.

  “What a fucking night,” he said.

  * * *

  Five hours later Bruce sat on the stage in the square as Hackett wandered up to once more ring the town bell.

  “All ok?” asked Hackett.

  “Fucking marvellous.”

  “You’re alive aren’t you?”

  “Just about,” Bruce sighed.

  As Hackett was about to ring the bell a horse and rider stormed into the town at full gallop, it was Dylan, clearly carrying vital news.

  “Bruce! Bruce!” shouted Dylan.

  Hackett and Bruce’s relaxed mood immediately hardened, noticing the sound of fear in the man’s voice.

  “What is it, mate?!”

  “We got a problem at the wall!”

  “How much of a problem?” asked Hackett.

  “The causeway has closed up, the storm has choked it full of debris, earth, trees, it’s all collapsed in. They’re at the outer wall!”

  “Jesus Christ,” cried Hackett.

  “Sound the alarm!” Bruce screamed.

  Hackett ran up to the bell, but passed it, onto the next instrument of town communication, an old air raid siren, something they had not ever had to use, and was for absolute emergencies only. The old cop began winding the handle, and the tinkling sound of the siren rang out across the town.

  “How many are we talking about? And is the wall intact?!” shouted Bruce.

  “The wall has taken a bit of a beating, but last I saw it was alright, but the fuckers were pouring in, in their dozens last I left, no idea how many now.”

  Within two minutes of the siren going off the town’s people were gathering, all fully aware of what that alarm meant, a life or death situation.

  “Please be calm and listen, we do not have time to waste!” shouted Hackett.

  Bruce ran and jumped up onto the stage, and Hackett gladly gave way to Bruce, who was the nearest thing they had to an army commander.

  “The causeway has closed! However, the wall is still up! We have all seen in the past that no barrier we can create can hold back the creatures forever, so we cannot afford to leave things as they are! We have to reclaim the causeway and dig out the river.”

  “And how do you suggest we do that?” shouted Keith.

  “We need to assemble every capable fighter now, we need to push back the creatures beyond the old trench, then get others to clear it out!” shouted Bruce.

  “That’s insane! It could take hours to clear that trench!”

  “We don’t have a choice! If we don’t get that trench working again they will get through our walls, whether it takes them a day or a week, they always do!” Bruce answered him.

  “What about digging a new trench between the outer and middle wall?”

  “Keith, that’ll take even longer, and could likely compromise the structure of our walls, it’s as much work with even more risk!”

  Hackett intervened. “That’s enough! We don’t have time to argue. Bruce is in charge, trust him, and please do as he says, we need
to work together right now if we want any chance of survival!”

  “Look, I’ve had all the time I need to give the options consideration, and now is not the time to talk, it’s the time to act! The fleet will be with us in a couple of days and that should provide us with some serious fighting potential, but right now, as always, we have to fend for ourselves. All capable fighters and builders, get your weapons, armour and horses, we leave from the square in five minutes!” Bruce ordered.

  “Christian, get the shields for us, we’ll be needing them,” he added.

  The crowd quickly dispersed as they went about their duties. Bruce walked back into his cabin and flipped open the lid of a large wooden box in the corner of the room, revealing all the fighting equipment that he had so wished never to have the need for again. He pulled out his quilted gambeson, mail shirt, padded leather leg armour and steel gauntlets.

  Just minutes later he was back in the square wearing his worn old armour, a reproduction medieval flanged mace dangling from his side, and machete in its sheath. Hackett and a few others were loading shields onto a small cart. Around sixty fighters had assembled in the town square, along with a number of men ready to get to work on the trench. Bruce climbed up onto the podium.

  “Alright, here’s the deal. We start on the outer barricade, wipe out everything we can as quickly as possible with the bows and crossbows, then push beyond the trench, allowing the guys to get working on it. From what Dylan tells me, only a forty-foot stretch of the trench has been filled in, so we’ll be guarding that narrow stretch. I want thirty men with shields at all times out front, the rest with ranged weapons to keep them at bay as long as possible, all understood?”

  The crowd rang out in agreement as they strapped on final pieces of equipment and readied themselves.

  “Right, me and Dylan will ride up ahead. Remember, you’re not fighting for yourselves, we are fighting for each other. If this goes badly it could be the last fight we ever have! Always remember what you’re fighting for, good luck to you all!”

  Bruce leapt onto his horse and immediately kicked his heels in, launching forward at full gallop towards the wall with Dylan close behind. As they reached the edge of town, Amy galloped towards them to join the fight. On the sight of the woman, who Bruce had known since she was a teenager, he stopped quickly and turned to her.