The Undead | Day 25 [The Heat]

by Haywood, RR

  ‘I know,’ Blowers said with a sudden grin. ‘Bruce Springsteen.’

  ‘Jesus, Grandad,’ Cookey said. ‘Go back to counting your nine fingers.’

  Reginald

  ‘Come on,’ I said to myself while drumming my fingers on the desk and waiting for the update from Henry and Roy. ‘They must be close,’ I added while checking the monitor and the two CP’s still static upon the runway. But they had been so for over ten minutes, and I knew that status would not remain so for much longer.

  ‘Guys, it’s me,’ Roy’s transmitted somewhat breathlessly. ‘I’ve got one escape ladder left to go up then I’ll be in situ.’

  That was Roy nearly in place too. Which only left Henry and so I drummed my fingers while in the reflection of the screen I could see Marcy behind me. Her face half in shadow, half in light.

  One half an angel.

  One half a demon.

  Carmen

  I found out later that Paula took a whole town out before she fell in with Howie’s team. She’d prepped it using razor wire and fuel bombs and gas cannisters to whittle the numbers down as she drew them on.

  It struck me as strange that a woman that capable would take on the role of a mother-hen to a group of young soldiers. And Paula was very capable. Even then as we worked up the vehicle ramps, she showed a highly developed aptitude. She would have made an excellent operative. But war does that, and history is full of civilians that would otherwise lead calm and peaceful lives suddenly adapt to become great leaders.

  She did something else that stuck in my mind.

  We’d worked through the ground floor of the car park and out onto the road running in front of the north terminal. There were actually two multi-story car parks constructed either side of a giant vestibule jutting out from the north terminal.

  Both of those car parks were six-levels high, and each level connected to a stairwell and lifts that gave access to that vestibule, which in turn, fed into the north terminal proper.

  We were on the road running in front of the car parks trying to see if there was a way in, but we soon discovered that the whole area had been prepped for defence.

  It was well put together too. The vestibule had lifts and long disabled access ramps running up from the ground level. All of which were blocked off by hundreds of luggage carts stacked high and rammed full of suitcases.

  They’d also driven vans, taxis, and buses into the barricade. The end result was the ground floor effectively had an impenetrable wall sealing the north terminal off.

  That meant we couldn’t get in, which in turn meant running back into the car parks and working up each level with the hope that the defenders had left themselves an exit option.

  We were just about to go back when we noticed a few infected gathered on the road. Only four or five of them all groaning softly while shuffling on the spot.

  Paula stared at them until Henry whispered that we needed to go back into the parking area and find a way in.

  ‘They’re not part of the hordes in the airfield,’ Paula whispered. ‘They don’t have a CP. I bet they were bitten on the first day and never got caught up into a horde,’ she added as she looked at Henry and saw he wasn’t getting it. ‘Just stay here a second.’

  ‘Paula!’ Henry whispered as she slung her rifle and ran out from our position of cover to jog across the road while pulling her machete overhead from the sheath on her back. We all aimed and got cover on then watched as Paula gave a low whistle which made the small group turn towards her. But they were slow and ungainly and like the zombies from old movies. Drooling and twitching with limp arms and stiff legs. A second later and Paula took the first head off then set about dispatching them one at a time with brutal ease.

  Then she ran back, breathing hard from the heat and the exertion. ‘See? That’s what they’ll be like if we take the CP’s out. And it also means there will be more like them that got turned on the first day and never found a horde. I don’t know, but maybe if we get enough shufflers, we can use them as camouflage in London. We’ll tell Reggie and see what he thinks. Anyway. Let’s get on. We need to get inside.’

  Like I said.

  Paula was badass.

  Charlotte

  ‘I’m not saying it’s not good,’ Tappy said from the front. ‘But Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive is not battle anthemic.’

  ‘It so is!’ Cookey said.

  ‘Ace of Spades. Motorhead,’ Blowers said.

  ‘No! Too cliched, they’ll be expecting it,’ Tappy said.

  ‘Who will?’ Blowers asked.

  ‘Duh. The zombies,’ Tappy said.

  ‘What the fuck,’ Blowers muttered, sharing looks and shrugs with the others.

  ‘Okay okay. We get one suggestion each then we vote on it. Boss?’ Tappy said.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ Howie said. ‘Wow. Pressure. Er… Oh I know!’

  ‘Don’t,’ Clarence said with a groan.

  ‘I have to,’ Howie said as Clarence shook his head. ‘It’s my favourite song.’

  ‘What is?’ Tappy asked.

  ‘Tiffany. I think we’re alone now. Don’t all bloody groan. It’s Tiffany! You lot have no taste. I bet young Danny likes it. Eh, Danny? Tiffany? See, Danny’s up for it.’

  ‘Clarence?’ Tappy said while shaking her head.

  ‘Ride of the Valkyries,’ Clarence said.

  ‘Now that’s cliched,’ Blowers said.

  ‘Is it now?’ Clarence asked him. ‘And what do the Marines use? Yellow Submarine?’

  ‘Yellow submarine for Sergeant Blowers,’ Tappy said. ‘Cookey?’

  ‘That wasn’t my suggestion!’ Blowers said as everyone jeered him down. ‘Fuck’s sake. I had a really good one.’

  ‘Was it Bruce Springsteen again?’ Cookey asked him.

  ‘No,’ Blowers said unconvincingly. ‘It was the er, the… The other one. Bon Jovi.’

  ‘You fucking dick!’ Nick said as we all burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh my god. I fucking love you,’ Cookey said while laughing at Blowers. ‘Tommy used to work on the docks yeah?’

  ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘But he’s down on his luck cos it’s tough… like soooo tough.’

  ‘Fuck you!’

  ‘Hey, but Gina words the diner all day,’ Tappy said from the front. ‘Working for her man she brings home the pay.’

  ‘For love?’ Nick asked.

  ‘For love,’ Tappy said.

  ‘Twats!’

  Reginald

  My word, it was tense, and the sweat beaded down over my forehead as I stared into the monitor, willing the CP’s to keep talking and not reactivate. What the deuce was taking so long I had no idea, and I could only imagine the heightened levels of tension they must have been experiencing in the Saxon. Those poor sods sitting in a hot tin can waiting to charge into an airfield chock full of infected.

  Charlotte

  ‘It’s okay, Blowers. We’ll give it a shot,’ Cookey said as the whole Saxon went totally silent.

  ‘Don’t. Please just don’t,’ Blowers said as we all let rip.

  ‘WHOAAAH, WE’RE HALFWAY THERE… WHOAAAH WE’RE LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER!’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Blowers said, sticking middle fingers up at the rest of us singing Bon Jovi at him.

  Carmen

  We ran off the first ramp over to the bridge connecting to the north terminal entry vestibule, but that was also barricaded.

  ‘Second level,’ Henry ordered as we about-turned and set back off. ‘North side checking in, control. Slight delay. Looking for ingress. Standby.’

  To which there was no response.

  ‘Control means you in the van,’ Henry then added.

  ‘Ah I thought you meant me! I was about to answer,’ Reginald said. ‘Er but roger roger. Copy that. Er, control to the er… the… um… Ooh I know. Control to Robin Hood?’

  ‘I’m still bloody climbing.’

  ‘Roger that, Robin Hood. Er, control to the Saxon, over?’

  ‘TAKE
MY HAND, WE’LL MAKE IT I SWEAR… WHOAH, LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER.’

  We all froze mid run to quickly turn the volume down in our ear-pieces and I couldn’t help but snort a laugh and clocked Frank grinning while Paula smiled and shook her head, which is while we all waited for Henry to start bawling them out.

  Except he didn’t. He just tutted mildly and nodded for us to keep going.

  ‘They grow on you,’ Paula said to him.

  ‘So does fungus,’ he muttered, but I saw his lips twitch.

  By the second level we were breathing hard with sweat pouring down our faces, but again, the connecting bridge was blocked off with luggage trolleys and vehicles. That left four levels to go, and we figured with our luck the only way in would be on the top sixth level.

  We started running back to the ramp when I caught scent of cigarette smoke. The car park had open sided walls, but with the low ceiling the smell lingered. It made me stop and go back and sweep along the barricade until I found a small pile of cigarette butts on the ground outside of the back doors to a big van parked nose into the barricade.

  I motioned to Bash then at the van as he gave cover for me to ease one of the door handles down.

  It gave instantly and swung open as I smiled at how they’d ripped out the front passenger seat to create an open path from the back doors to the front, which were poking out the inside of the barricade.

  ‘North side to control. We’ve located an ingress. We’re going in. Standby for confirmation.’

  Frank took point and got through the van to the front to check it out before giving a nod to proceed.

  It was cleverly done too. I think we were all impressed.

  The doors to the north terminal were opposite. We started jogging over, seeing that they’d also barricaded those but left single entry points within the barrier to create tactical pinch points.

  That’s when we finally made contact as a guy stepped out with a police issue rifle slung at the front and started to light a smoke.

  ‘Fuck!’ he said, spitting the cigarette out as he grabbed his rifle. ‘CONTACT!’

  ‘Friendlies you numpty!’ Frank said. ‘Get your CO. We’re getting you out.’

  ‘Out? We’re not going out. Have you seen the other side? It’s crawling with them.’

  ‘Control. It’s the north side. We’re going inside. Are the Saxon and Robin Hood in position?’ Henry asked he walked towards the guard. ‘Get your CO. Come on man! Look lively!’

  ‘Control to north side. Yes. We’re ready and standing by,’ Reginald said as Henry ushered the guard inside with us following through into the vestibule which we realised was the monorail train station that connected the north terminal to the south via a raised railway line.

  ‘Sir, it’s Colin. We’ve got some guys here to get us out,’ the guard said into his radio as someone transmitted back into his earpiece. ‘I didn’t let them in! They found the van. I don’t know but they’re tooled up. Fuck’s sake. Hang on then,’ Colin said as he came to a stop. ‘My boss wants to know who you are.’

  ‘Give me that radio,’ Henry said.

  ‘You’re not having my radio,’ Colin said before stiffening from Frank pressing the pistol barrel pressing into his temple. He gave Henry the radio.

  ‘My name is Major Henry Dillington. I need your CO immediately. We’re in the train station coming into the north terminal.’

  We ran through through a doorway and out to the top of static escalators running down to the ground floor and saw the airport had been transformed into a mini-city with sectioned off areas for living filled with wires and hanging sheets and cardboard walls.

  Stairs and more unmoving escalators led up to defined eating areas and more living quarters with bedding on the floor. People had taken over the duty-free shops and the kiosks had been stripped of food and drink that was now stacked inside the main refs area to be rationed out.

  There were also people everywhere. And far more of them then we’d realised.

  I could feel the fear in the air. I’d felt it before in cities at war in the middle east and Africa. That same barely suppressed panic caused by people not knowing what’s going on and hearing only whispered rumours.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ a man called out from the ground level, older with grey hair. An air of authority. Underlings and assistants at his sides. All of them armed and all of them with the same deeply worried expressions.

  ‘Major Henry Dillington. Special Air Service and sanctioned CO within the British Security Services,’ Henry said as we rushed down the escalators. ‘And you?’ he asked, striding forward with his hand held out.

  ‘Chief Inspector Michael Dawson,’ the man said, clasping Henry’s hand. ‘Sussex police. I’m the CO for airport security.’

  ‘James Dramford,’ another man said as he shook Henry’s hand. ‘Senior logistics manager.’

  ‘Hi! Sally Burfoot. Senior duty manager.’ Another woman said as more lined up to shake Henry’s hand.

  ‘We do not have time for this,’ Paula cut in with a hard tone. ‘Get everyone ready to go right now. No, stop. Stop talking. Stop talking! You have thirty thousand infected out there about to attack this building. You will not stop them, and they will get inside. No! Listen to me. There is no time for discussion. Do you understand me? If you stay here, these people will die.’

  ‘Just hang on,’ Dawson said.

  ‘Major Dillington will not hesitate to assume command,’ Paula said, cutting over him and everyone else. ‘And the rest of our team are out there right now ready to distract those things to buy you time to get out. You need to listen, and you need to take this in. You will all die if you stay here. Do you understand?’

  ‘We’ve got nearly seven hundred people here,’ James Dramford said into the hard silence that followed.

  ‘Where do we take them?’ Sally Burfoot asked. ‘They can’t just walk out.’

  ‘Okay, listen in,’ Henry said with a quick sweeping look while urging the guards and workers in closer. ‘This is a hot briefing, leave questions to the end. I need you to get everyone into this area facing the train station. They are not to carry anything except small children that cannot run. You will keep them as silent as possible. No noise. No shouting. No screaming. You and you,’ he said, pointing a bladed hand at the two managers. ‘Will stay here while I take every armed person with me. When we give the order, you lead the people into the train station and out along the monorail platform to the coach yard. Do not interrupt! Find a way down. Find the keys from the kiosk and get those coaches away as fast as you can. Head south to the coast. Find Fort Spitbank. Do you understand? Yes or no! Do you understand the instructions?’

  They both looked terrified, but they both nodded.

  ‘What if they won’t go?’ one of the airport guards asked.

  ‘Tell them they will be shot by the rear guard,’ Henry said to a chorus of gasps. ‘Because if they stay here they will get turned and they will be coming after us.’

  That hit it home. Jesus.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Paula said in a softer tone. ‘You have to trust us. We’ve been doing this since the start. Get them stacked up here ready to go.’

  A second for them all to absorb it. A second and no more.

  ‘That’s understood,’ Chief Inspector Dawson finally said in a weak voice as he looked to his teams. ‘Do as the Major says. Get everyone here.’

  ‘Double time!’ Frank snapped, sending them running off as the panic started to increase. But that was normal and there was no way of making seven hundred terrified people do anything without creating panic. All we could do was try and control it.

  ‘Okay. Now we need to see the defences,’ Paula said as most of the guards ran off.

  ‘This way,’ Chief Inspector Dawson said, striding off deeper into the airport.

  ‘North side to control. We’re inside. Repeat. We’re inside and preparing for evacuation,’ Henry transmitted.

  ‘Understood. Robin Hood and the Saxon are ready t
o go.’

  ‘Standby,’ Henry transmitted as we jogged through the airport behind Dawson and his assistants as they led us through the rising panic of the people living inside. And the sight of us certainly didn’t make it any better.

  ‘Hey! What’s happening?’ someone demanded, stepping in front only to get pushed away by Frank as we ran on. ‘They’re not telling us anything!’ the man shouted as we jogged on through the check in gates to the security gates beyond. Passing survivors and refugees from all over the world. Africans. Indians. Europeans. Asians. I remembered reading that Gatwick was a major transport hub with over sixty thousand people a day passing through.

  ‘When did the South Terminal fall?’ Paula asked as we ran on.

  ‘Only a few hours ago,’ Dawson replied. ‘But a jet took their boarding gates down on the night it happened and made an entry point. Ours are intact. We’re safe here.’

  ‘Trust me. They will swarm and find a way in,’ Paula said as she pointed up to a series of skylights overhead. ‘How many people were there?’

  Dawson shot her a look as a dark shadow crossed his features. ‘Over a thousand. It was so quick. The airfield just flooded with them all running in.’

  ‘We’ve got almost seven hundred in here,’ Sally added. ‘But we had over three thousand the night it happened. A lot left. English people mainly. You know, those going on holiday that thought they’d try and get home. Then more left and a few died.’

  ‘Died?’ Paula asked.

  ‘Heart attacks. A few suicides. Oh, and the police shot two after that murder we had.’

  ‘You had a murder?’ I asked. But then I don’t know why I was surprised. People are people. Put them anywhere for any reason and they’ll rape, steal, murder and lie the same as they always did.

  We hit a set of stairs and started rising until we reached another hastily formed barrier made from trolleys, disabled person carriages, bench seats, luggage and furniture. A single entry point in the middle with an armed guard looking stricken to the core.