by Haywood, RR
‘This has to be the hottest one yet,’ Paula said, gasping for air as the others nodded in agreement. ‘Jesus, Clarence. Your head. Someone pass me a towel. Let me soak it, right, lean down.’
‘I’ll sweat on you.’
‘It doesn’t bother me,’ she said, pulling his head down as the sweat ran from his scalp onto her arms and hands. It was really sweet actually. The way she poured a bottle of water over his head and used the wet rag to wipe his cheeks and skull. Around his eyes and the back of his neck. ‘Think cool thoughts,’ she told him. ‘I’ll find a freezer truck for you later. You can sit in that and eat biscuits.’
‘I’ll sleep in it,’ he said with his eyes closed.
She snorted a laugh. ‘I might join you,’ she said as his eyes opened to stare into hers while Marcy smiled and nudged Howie.
Like I said – it was super sweet, and why on earth they don’t get together is beyond anybody’s guess. They are a perfect match, and they clearly adore each other.
But it also made me think about Cookey, and how I thought we were a perfect match, and how I thought he adored me, but he still hadn’t done anything.
The signals were so weird. He flirted with me constantly, but the second we were alone he’d start making jokes, and while he does make me laugh – well, I don’t know. I was more than ready for the next step. He, however, clearly wasn’t interested.
I fingered the scars on my face, then felt my mangled ear, and ran a hand over my shaved head, and wondered again if it was because of how I look, while all the time I was staring at him.
He seemed to sense my gaze and smiled at me, and I could see how his blue eyes lit up whenever he looked at me which is why it was all so bloody confusing.
‘Are you okay?’ he mouthed. I nodded back. Confused and unsure while also turned on by him at the same time as feeling guilty about being horny – which is when Tappy shouted that a tree was blocking the road and we started to slow down.
‘Go around it,’ Howie said. ‘We can go off road.’
‘Yeah, but the van can’t,’ Tappy said. Bringing the Saxon to a halt as we all popped out to see a huge tree blocking the road. Too big for even the Saxon to move.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Howie said. Seeing that Tappy was right and there was no way the van would get over the ground on either side. ‘Right. Axes then. We’ll cut it up.’
‘Chaps?’ Henry called, stepping out of his vehicle.
‘This isn’t our fault, Henry, so unless you’ve got any smart ideas,’ Howie said, giving him a look as he hefted his axe and tried to figure where to start chopping.
‘I do actually,’ Henry said. Taking a small black bag from the back of his SUV and heading over to the tree. ‘The application of force can be delivered in many ways, Mr Howie,’ he said while pushing something into the side of the trunk then stretching it round before wrapping it in gaffer tape. ‘Establish the objective. Determine the method and find the path of least resistance,’ he finished off with a grunt as he secured the tape. ‘Because the true victor must be both strong and smart,’ he said with a nod while striding back to his SUV. ‘Oh, and do take cover. Fire in the hole,’ he said mildly, holding a detonator up as the rest of us dove for cover.
There was a flash of pure light following instantly by a sharp bang and a searing noise as the C4 severed the tree in half with the two sections rolling off and sagging down from the loss of structure and strength - I must say it was very impressive, especially with Henry back as James Bond Senior.
‘I’d say we’ll get through easy enough now, Tappy. Load up then chaps. Let’s get moving shall we,’ Henry said with a bright smile.
‘And Henry’s back to cool AF again,’ Marcy said. ‘What is that? One all boys?’ she asked as Clarence and Howie got back in the Saxon.
And again, I did wonder why they didn’t get in the van.
‘Fuck’s sake! Why are we in here again?’ Howie asked thirty seconds later as Clarence stooped and loomed and sweated and everyone else swayed to the motion of Tappy driving.
‘Tell me more about this freezer truck,’ Clarence said as Paula smiled at him.
‘Get through today and I promise I’ll find you one,’ she said as Tappy gave a warning before mowing a few more infected down.
‘We’re seeing a lot of them. Where are they heading?’ Howie asked as we went through Fittleworth. A tiny village. The houses with smashed in doors and broken windows. Cars left in the road. The doors open. A body hanging out of one of them. Old and decaying in the awful heat.
‘This got hit bad,’ Howie said.
A few seconds later and the signs of destruction were gone as we once more delved into the deep rolling countryside. To an open road and the green hedges and towering trees.
I’m detailing the scenery, as I am sure some of the others are, because it’s become such a strong defining backdrop to this event. The countryside, aside from the heat, was blooming in every direction. The air was clearer. The colours seemed more vibrant. The wildlife was already more abundant, and yet, when we went into towns and villages all we saw was death.
‘Got a few more,’ Tappy said aiming for the infected at the side of the road. ‘Hang on. They’ve disappeared. Where’d they go?’ she asked while easing the speed off as the rest of us tried to see out the front.
‘Where are they?’ Howie asked.
‘I don’t know. They sodded off. There!’
An opening on the left side. A large sign welcoming visitors to Pulborough Garden Centre. A long road leading in with the backs of infected seen running towards the buildings within the large grounds.
‘Must be people up there,’ Howie said.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Tappy asked as Howie grimaced. I could see his dilemma in that we couldn’t keep stopping, but then we couldn’t drive by and leave people to suffer either.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Howie said, grabbing his radio. ‘Quick detour. Two minutes,’ he transmitted. ‘Right. We’re in and out,’ he said as Tappy powered along the access road that into the long car park bordering the garden centre.
‘Fuck! Look at this lot,’ Tappy said, seeing the horde charging into the doors and fronts of the buildings.
‘Go to the end,’ Howie ordered. ‘Everyone make ready - and someone get on the GPMG. Who’s closest to it?’
‘I’ll do it,’ I said and wriggled past Clarence to get up through the hole as Tappy battered a path to the end with the thuds banging on the hard metal sides and the vehicle rocking on the chassis.
‘Roy! Don’t come in. We’re firing along the car park,’ Howie transmitted. ‘Hold on the road. Repeat. Hold on the road.’
‘Got it. Holding on the road,’ Maddox transmitted back.
Then, a second later, I opened up with the gimpy and started strafing them in burst shots. We’re strictly not allowed to fire the GPMG on sustained fire because the barrel overheats. But it’s a good weapon, and when it’s in the fixed position it has brilliant aim and coverage. It’s still classed as small arms, but for our purposes against unarmed foe it does a brilliant job. Dave and Clarence also taught us some good tactics. Like how to take the legs out on the first few ranks of a charging horde to make the ones behind them stumble and trip. Which buys time and hampers their advance.
Carmen
We got out of the SUV just ahead of the van. I could see Roy was already on the roof of his vehicle with his longbow, and Maddox was outside Reggie’s sliding door. Then Charlie got to work with burst firing the gimpy and a second or two later everyone else from the Saxon was letting rip with assault rifles.
I then heard Bashir saying something. I didn’t know exactly what, but I could tell he was asking Henry why we weren’t engaging the enemy.
Joan was also looking tense and tapping her fingers on the side of her sniper rifle.
‘Boss?’ I asked as Henry just watched the infected get hosed down in droves.
‘I think they’ve done it,’ Frank said as the guns fell silent. Then
we heard another roar as more infected poured into view from the back of the garden centre, and the weapons once again started firing.
‘Commander?’ Bashir asked again. This time in heavy English. ‘We fight. Yes?’ He looked confused and more than a bit annoyed. He’d left his family in the fort to get stuck in and we were just bloody watching. I couldn’t blame him either.
‘Just hold on,’ Henry said in English.
‘I think they’re done,’ Frank said as the guns once more fell silent. We watched on as a door opened in one of the big outbuildings with a few people edging out.
‘Oh god! Thank you! Thank you!’ a woman shouted. Her voice drifting over on the hot still air. ‘Mr Howie! Paula! Thank you! All of you. Thank you!’
‘We can’t stop,’ Howie called out to them. ‘Use a digger or something to scoop the bodies away then burn them. The blood is still dangerous. We have to go. Is everyone okay in there?’
‘We’re okay. Just hungry. We’re almost out of food.’
‘We’ll leave you what we have,’ Paula said as Blowers and his team grabbed what they had in the Saxon and stacked it into a pile.
We could hear the shouts of thank you with people crying and looking the same as those before in Petworth as they squinted up at the sunshine and looked around at the bodies.
A moment later and the Saxon battered through the already broken fence back onto the road.
‘Sorry about that!’ Howie transmitted through the radio. We got back in the SUV and set off, but I know me, Joan and Bash all twisted in our seats to watch the garden centre as it faded from view.
Reginald
The garden centre was a good stop, but we had to maintain the momentum. The situation between Howie and Henry was still too fragile - as evidenced by the brief stop to deal with a fallen tree. Which, I might add, was dealt with brilliantly by Henry, although he didn’t need to be quite such a crowing cockerel about it.
We then hit Pulborough. Another small village, but clearly an area of affluence. Large houses and swimming pools in the gardens, and of course lots of signs for tennis clubs.
However, despite its apparent wealth, Pulborough had also suffered badly with obvious signs of destruction and carnage. Blood stains old and new. Bodies old and new. Storm damage and fires the same. Old and new.
The same glimpses everywhere we go. The same thing seen by all of us. The old world giving way to the new, but silent.
So very silent.
No traffic. No people. No jams. No queues. No traffic lights and no roadworks. Downed telegraph poles get shoved aside. The trailing wires tangling and snapping in the Saxon’s big wheels.
We reached the town centre, which was surprisingly rundown. It was small too. Blink and you miss it.
A pizza shop next to a barbers. A convenience store further up with a small gathering of infected outside throwing themselves at the boards nailed across the windows.
The Saxon swept them away from the side of the building then stopped as the team piled out and shot the rest down while the survivors upstairs rushed to the windows. What I saw were several large Asian families surviving together. About twenty-five I’d estimate, all in all.
We took but a moment for Paula to share a few words.
‘We can’t stop. Head to the fort. Don’t touch the bodies.’
Carmen
We set off again from Pulborough town centre. Not that you could call it a town centre.
I saw a wine merchants on one side. Then an Olde Worlde pub on the other. The sort of place Henry would stop for a real ale on a Sunday afternoon while Howie was at home watching internet porn. The thought made me snort a sudden laugh in the silent SUV, earning frowns from the others and an odd look from Frank.
Anyway. So our small fleet travelled on past the housing estates where people lived and died with tiny houses and tiny gardens. Trapped in cycles of life that never changed. Waiting to live and waiting to die and then regretting it all when the end came.
On we went. Past more houses that looked the same as all the others. Past more bodies and more blood.
Into the countryside once more where the hedges hung limp and hot, and the trees stood silent and drooping. The ground parched. The air laden with moisture, but not of the right kind. The kind that sapped the energy from your body and supercharged the breath coming from your mouth.
The kind that kept the sweat coming, despite however much water you drink. And you do drink. You drink until your belly feels bloated, while knowing you’ll be thirsty as hell again within half an hour.
We left Pulborough onto the long sweeping curve of Mare Hill Road. Farms on one side. Fields on the other. A few infected here and there heading in the same direction.
I could imagine Reggie in his van reading his maps and books. I’d love to be intelligent like that. Don’t get me wrong. I’m certainly smart, but not anywhere in the league of someone like Reginald. I loved that he wore a tie and rolled his sleeves up neatly - then I thought back to when he ran inside the department store waving his arms and shouting, Kiddies, Mr Howie! Little ones carrying their barbie dolls! It stood out a little, because Reggie didn’t strike me as the panicking kind, but the truth is, I didn’t care. I was glad he did it. I was glad he stopped Henry and Howie drawing down on each other because it would have been a bloodbath. The thought horrifies me, because I know Dave, and I can see his loyalty is now 100% Howie, which meant he wouldn’t hesitate. My guess is that Frank would have tried to feint one side while going another way and use Dave’s own team as a shield. But that wouldn’t stop Dave. He’d kill his own people to protect Howie. That’s how Dave operates.
Urgh. I didn’t even want to think about it. I just had to hope that whatever Reggie had done to prevent disaster he would keep doing.
Then I immediately stopped thinking about everything else because I saw a bird of prey hovering on the thermals in the field alongside of us. It looked so majestic! So perfect and poised, and so effortlessly still. It held me rapt with this feeling inside I cannot ever explain. The sight of birds. Any birds, not just birds of prey, always captures my heart. The feeling of freedom they must have. To be able to fly up and see the world from above and not be bound by stupid rules and stupid regulations.
‘More infected,’ Frank said as I reluctantly turned my attention back to the road and looked ahead to see more infected being mown down by the Saxon. ‘The princess was right,’ Frank said.
I heard Henry blast air in response and figured he didn’t like the way Frank and I were adopting some of the terminologies from Howie’s team.
We hit the outskirts of Storrington. The same styles of houses. The same things seen here as ever before. Tiny houses and tiny gardens where the people were trapped in cycles of life that never changed. Waiting to live and waiting to die and then regretting it all when the end came.
‘Reggie. What was the name of that pub the woman said?’ Howie asked over the radio.
‘The Anchor, Mr Howie,’ Reginald said as Henry rolled his eyes at the lack of planning.
‘Fools rush in,’ he murmured.
‘Yeah, but in fairness they did say a woman is in labour,’ I said. ‘That kind of warrants a fast response, boss.’
‘On the contrary. It warrants no response at all. One more child born into this mess doesn’t help anybody. And my name is Henry, not boss,’ he said, earning a look from Frank, but then Frank is old and stinks of piss, and he’s earned the right to give his CO a sharp look now and then if he wants.
Not that Henry seemed to notice or show any concern if he did. He just grabbed his radio. ‘Henry here. The mission objective is to the locate and observe the CP. Please remember that.’
‘Of course, Henry. That is exactly why we are here,’ Reginald replied. ‘But surely you will not deny the rendering of aid to a woman in need while we search for it.’
‘As long as the mission remains primary,’ Henry said.
‘Agreed,’ Howie said bluntly, and once more I couldn’t
help but think if Reggie had something up his sleeve. Not that I was bothered. In fact – I kind of hoped he did.
29
Reggie definitely had something up his sleeve, but I figured to let him crack on with it and focus on what was in front of me. Which is when I finally realised we’d been doing that same thing for ages.
Reggie steers us in the direction we’re needed to go, while I deal with what’s in front of us. What is that? What’s that called? I figured a strategy like that must have a name that I could ram up Henry’s bum and be like, Ha! Fuck you. We do have a tactic. It’s called the
Two-stranded
Warfare
And
Targeting
Strategy.
Then I was trying to think of one that spelled cunt but Reggie piped up over the radio.
‘End of this road chaps. The mini-roundabout should be outside of The Anchor. Our target location is directly opposite.’
At which point I then thought I should stop trying to think of ways to get back at Henry and focus on the job.
‘Take a dump in his coffee cup,’ Clarence said.
‘Clarence!’ Paula said in shock while I pulled a face and once more delved into the surreal notion of people reading my head thoughts.
‘Fuck’s sake. You said it,’ Marcy said. ‘You’re a mutterer. You mutter like literally all day long, I’m gonna fucking fuck Henry up and take a shit in his coffee cup,’ she said while mimicking me.
‘Er. Clarence is the one taking a dump in his coffee cup,’ I pointed out.
‘No. You were looking for revenge suggestions,’ Clarence said as he clocked the disgusted look on Paula’s face. ‘It’s a military thing,’ he said while clearly trying to back up.
‘Dave. Did anyone ever shit in your coffee cup?’ I asked.
‘No, Mr Howie.’
