Chapter 7
"Operation Vanquish"
Blade winced. “Karl, sorry I..... I didn't recognise your voice."
"Clearly," snapped the Fort Warwick leader. For several seconds there was an awkward silence.
It was the day following the attack on Fort London and Karl Bruger was feeling buoyant. His campaign of lightning attacks using mercenaries from smaller strongholds was ripping lumps out of the safe zones within the Fort and decimating the population which had a double impact and consequence for Craig Anderson. Firstly, fear became more contagious than the plague amongst the populace of FL, secondly the swarms of WDs and the Mutants grew outside the walls of the stronghold increasing the threat of break-ins that further fed the fear. Bruger was determined that Anderson, who had thwarted him on so many occasions, the man who had humiliated him in his own arena when they had gone head to head at the gladiatorial games, should suffer. He knew that his nemesis had two great loves in his life, one was Fort London, the other was the child, Hope, who carried the secret to the plague within her blood. Bruger was determined to take both of these things from him and in the process make him suffer as no man had ever suffered. The Fort Warwick leader knew that FL was ready for taking and then the child would be his, this was key for his quest to extend his control beyond the walls of Fort Warwick, for in truth he knew Jeremy, his chief scientist, was not going to come up with an alternative to the child’s blood. Despite that, it amused him to see Jeremy squirm as he applied more pressure on him to come up with an answer. With a large enough army of Mutants under his control, Bruger was confident that he could take control of all of the lands from Lands’ End to John O’Groats, even Europe would fall under his control. Bruger had become obsessed with matching the deeds of the greats of history, he had read everything he could lay his hands on about the exploits of the greatest conquerors the world had ever known and he was determined that he would be the greatest. His name would be placed above that of Alexander the Great whose campaign of conquest stretched from Greece to Northern India, he would dwarf the escapades of Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and the King of the Franks, Charles the Great who ruled a European empire based mainly around France, Germany and parts of Italy. Bruger was convinced he was invincible, his constant use of steroids was taking its toll on his brain, his mood swings and his temper, which had always been volcanic, was constantly on a hair trigger.
"When are you going to The Keep again?"
"I'm there now, but I’ll be leaving at first light, I need to go to assist one of our snatch teams and make a pickup."
"Where?"
"Just north of FL, sounds like a big grab. Wishbone reckons around ninety plus Pure," responded the enforcer, recommencing his walk towards Boardman’s lair.
Bruger paused. "It's time for Operation Vanquish."
Blade stopped walking, his mouth falling open. His maniac leader was actually going to do it, Operation Vanquish was about to start. For several seconds Blade was quiet, Bruger had chosen the name "Operation Vanquish" for his master plan to wipe out Fort London and take back the child Hope. He would then have an endless supply of the blood Jeremy needed to grow his army of Mutants and that’s what scared him, for then he knew that Bruger intended to take the whole of the UK and then sweep through Europe. Blade had tried on countless occasions to get Bruger to accept the thing that frightened Blade the most. How the hell were they going to feed packs of monsters as the population of Pure shrank due to the natural consequence of going to war and feeding the ever growing Mutant army? How long would it be before the thinly controlled Mutants began looking at their masters as walking kebabs? Bruger had argued that there would be an abundant supply of Pure meat for the hordes of Mutants he intended to create as they swept forward, plus the fact that Jeremy Boardman had assured him that in time he would be able to treat Tainted meat by flushing it clean so that his army of Mutants would be unable to distinguish it from Pure meat. Blade was less than convinced with Boardman’s promises, promises he knew were made through fear and the dizzy heights of euphoria created by the white lightning he had too much of a liking for.
"You asleep Blade?" snapped Bruger.
"No.....no, I was just glad we were finally making a move," lied Blade.
"Thought you were against it?" tested Bruger.
Blade covered quickly, Bruger’s meteoric temper was on a hair trigger these days. “Had my doubts Karl, but if you say the time is right, that’s good enough for me."
Bruger was silent for some time as he weighed his enforcer’s voice. "Pick me up after your collection," ordered Bruger. "We're gonna make history Blade, trust me."
Blade placed the two way radio back into its cradle, certain of two things, firstly that Bruger was right, they were going to make history, and secondly, he didn't trust him. He was a man completely deluded, completely out of control but Blade decided he would keep these thoughts to himself for to express them would end up in a one way trip to "The Cutting Shed”.
#
Anderson gently closed the door to Hope's bedroom, she had fallen to sleep as he had read to her which had become their normal nightly ritual. Often he would sit for up to an hour, sometimes longer, and simply watch her, smiling as she twitched and turned, her gentle breathing and snuffling bringing a lurching fullness in his chest as he remembered his own child, Mary, who had been Hope’s age when he lost her to the plague. The joy Hope had brought to his life could not be measured and it was because of this that the responsibility he had to mankind cut even deeper, for he had to allow blood to be taken from her until a cure was found. By luck or, according to The Preacher, divine intervention, this child was blessed with a resistance to the plague and unless the scientists came up with an alternative, Hope was the only chance the world had to take back their freedom and their planet.
"Mr Craig you have call on radio," called Marisol softly from the large living room area.
Anderson moved down the short passageway into the living area and lifted the handset from its charger. “Go ahead."
"It is good to hear your voice Craig Anderson," came The Preacher’s unmistakable rich tones.
"Preacher, it’s been a while," smiled Anderson.
"Too long my friend but with Bruger continuing to jam the airways it has been difficult to maintain contact. If not for the skills of Kitchen Man in creating this link for us we would still be in silence."
Anderson nodded silently, Kitchen man had worked tirelessly since joining Fort London following their escape from The Shard to thread a way through Bruger’s electronic blocking campaign. Thanks to some ingenious innovations that Anderson could not even begin to understand, Kitchen man had produced a working system that allowed them to maintain random contact with the various groups that had shown allegiance to FL. "Don't tell him that Preacher couldn't put up with the bragging," chuckled the ex SAS man. "So……what’s the problem?" asked Anderson. He knew The Preacher never wasted time with chit chat. Whenever he called it was with a purpose well over and above asking how your day had been.
"I am with Hog at his stronghold."
"You want me to help you escape?" quipped Anderson.
"Heard that Fort Boy," came Hog’s distinctive booming voice. In the background, Anderson could hear Saphire’s raucous laughter.
"Guess I'm off your Christmas card list," posed Anderson.
"You were never on it," retorted Hog.
Anderson winced. “So Preacher, let’s get to it.”
For a few seconds The Preacher was silent. "My flocks are disappearing Craig, entire flocks."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but we're all losing people to the plague Preacher."
"It's not the plague Craig Anderson, entire communes are vanishing, no trace, not one left behind, every man, woman and child simply vanishing."
Anderson blinked quickly several times, his strategic mind working the variables, the options to explain such a thing. None came forward.
"Just as I Craig Anderson," came The Preacher�
��s voice after several moments. "I have no answers. Tomorrow I shall be visiting some of my groups north of FL, Hog and some of his stronghold will escort me on this trip."
"Keep me up to speed Preacher," replied Anderson. "You need any men for security?"
"Preacher told you," called Hog, "me and my boys are going with him.”
"Like I said Preacher, you need men for security let me know.”
"Har de har Fort boy, your arse is grass next time we meet," bellowed Hog.
Anderson could hear Saphire roaring with laughter as he closed the link. Switching channels, he made a call for his second-in-command. “Tom, come in."
After just a couple of beats Tom responded. “Please don't tell me we got another bleed.”
Anderson snorted. “Wish it was that easy, no it's Hope. Tomorrow is her birthday."
In the scale of the normal sequence of events since the clash with Bruger at his gladiatorial colosseum, this was a reminder of pre-plague life. The celebration of a small child’s birthday is something special, something Tom was happy to be involved with, especially Hope's. "So what’s the plan, party hats and balloons?"
"Not quite, she doesn't want a party and she has only asked for one thing.”
"That’s easy," chuckled Tom.
"Not quite," sighed Anderson. "She wants a trip out into the outer-lands, she saw an activity centre just north of FL in a magazine."
"Was she upset when you told her she couldn't go?” asked Tom.
Anderson remained silent.
"You told her no, right?” pressed Tom.
"Not quite."
"Craig, the outer-lands are awash with WDs and Mutants, this is suicidal, it just doesn't make sense.”
"Sense!" snapped Anderson. "Does it make sense that this child has blood sucked from her every week in the million to one chance that a cure can be found? Does it make sense that we live in a cage that is being besieged by a maniac who wants to destroy me and take Hope for his own perverse use?" Anderson’s voice was rising and rising until he saw Marisol at the kitchen door, her finger to her lips in a scolding motion. “Nothing makes sense any more Tom, nothing. But Hope is going to have some normality, she's lost and given so much, she is going to have her day.” concluded the FL security leader in a quieter tone.
"You’re crazy, you know that Craig?"
"Been said," snorted Anderson.
For several seconds there was a charged silence.
"Mary would have been this age," spoke Anderson quietly.
Tom was taken aback, his friend and his leader had not mentioned his wife or his children since he lost them over two years prior. Every man dealt with their loss in different ways. Tom himself had sought solace in a bottle until Anderson sat him down and made him take a close look at where he was heading. Bull went on a killing spree, deliberately going out on massive WD hunting sprees. Anderson had chosen to wrap himself in a wall of silence and denial to shield himself from the pain. By never speaking of them he could contain the hurt that came by simply mentioning their names so he didn't, at least not until today.
Tom had been Godfather to Mary, he knew how hard just using her name must have been for his friend. "OK you crazy bastard, what time do you want me there?"
"Who said you were invited?" smiled Anderson.
"You think I'm gonna let you have all the fun?" responded Tom. "Besides, we go and give Hope twenty minutes, take Bull and a half dozen of the guys to keep watch, I mean...what could go wrong?"
"OK, 10am at gate four, and you’re right Tom.... what could go wrong?”
They were both wrong.
Chapter 8
"Incoming in twenty seconds"
At 7am at The Keep, Blade hustled his troops out of their beds giving them thirty minutes to eat and be in the vehicles ready for the run to Stevenage. He did not want to miss the rendezvous with the snatch squad watching the community of Pure who would soon be on the menu at the Cutting Shed. "Come on you bunch of dead beats, thirty minutes and we hit the road towards Fort London, any man not ready ends up in the Cutting Shed.” Every man sped up.
Outside the fence line, just twenty metres from the parked Daf T45 4x4 troop carrier, Andrew watched the scene unfolding. He wasn't sure how he got there but what he did know was that he knew this place, he had suffered here and had escaped through this fence, there was a break in it and he knew instinctively where it was. Something else he knew was that he wanted to go to London, that’s what the man had said, Fort London and a faint glimmer of a memory screamed inside his head that it was a place of safety, a place where he had tried to get to in an early time, a time when there was a woman with him and there were children, two children. His head started to hurt. Suddenly he felt the heat building within him, his lungs were aflame, his heart pounding so hard that he could hear the blood pumping in his ears, the beast was coming. Sprinting to the gap in the fence, he slipped through, made a dash to the back of the Daf and slid over the tail board. He was going to London.
Twenty minutes later The Pinzer and the Daf pulled out of The Keep and headed for Stevenage, north of Fort London. What Blade and his troops did not realise was that they had an extra passenger on board, a passenger who would be instrumental in changing the path of mankind.
#
Anderson could never hope to put into words the pleasure he had experienced at breakfast when he confirmed to Hope that they would be going to Gambado, the activity centre on the Kingston Road in Watford for her birthday. He had told her, when she had originally asked, that he would do his best but that she should not get her hopes too high. That morning, her eyes had shone with such delight he felt a lump rise in his throat at her sheer joy. She had suffered so much and Anderson would move heaven and earth to give her this day. Arriving at gate four he could not help but smile as Bull’s Land Rover came into view. Tied to the back were six huge pink balloons. Tom, Bull and Spider stood in front of them, each held a wrapped present, each grinned from ear to ear as Hope ran squealing from Anderson’s Land Rover to hug each of the three men in turn. It triggered in each man a remembrance of a child of their own of a sister, a niece or a cousin, this was how life should be, days of celebration, days that a little girl would remember her entire life. Thirty battle hardened troops, who stood in an arc behind the Land Rover, gave a hearty, if somewhat gravel rendition of happy birthday to the beaming little girl. It was painfully wrong yet so right. Anderson enjoyed the surreal moment as he watched Hope jumping up and down, the three wrapped presents clutched in her arms as the men he had fought with through three years of blood and guts combat, sang with gusto. The professional in him said taking 25% of his best men out of the Fort for such a reason was foolhardy but the father in him, for that was how he saw himself, could not deny this child some happiness, a day to remember. What none of them could know, as they pulled through gate four and out into the outer-lands, was that this would most certainly be a day she would remember all her life, but for all the wrong reasons.
#
"Your call Preacher," announced Hog, as the gates of the Zombie Chapter were swung open. “Where we heading?”
The Preacher had given careful thought to which of his wide group of flocks he would visit this day. The news from Hatchet Man gave him great concern, each of his groups were important to him but he had to select which ones he would check in on. "Stevenage if you please Hog, I have a large flock there of nearly one hundred souls. Farther north there are other smaller groups that I will move onto."
Hog threw his leg over his Soft Tail Classic. The iconic Harley was one of the three Harleys Craig Anderson had used as a gift to the Zombie Chapter when seeking their help to find Hope. The other ten Angels that Hog had selected to ride shotgun with The Preacher, followed suit. The throaty chorus created by eleven engines bursting to life was one that made the adrenaline flow through every Angel. Hog took the lead with five of the Angels. The Preacher dropped in behind them in his Cherokee Jeep and the other Harleys made up the rear guard. Hog had es
timated the run to Stevenage, failing road blocks and WDs, would take them around an hour or so, possibly less. The Preacher had been up the M1 recently and it was clear so they were keeping their fingers crossed. The unknown section was where they would have to slide onto the A1 to get to the stronghold which was housed in what used to be a superstore run by a supermarket chain on the A1155. Hog’s decision to send in a lone rider half way into their journey would reap news that would bring the convoy to a halt well short of their destination.
#
Blade made contact with the snatch team five miles out from Stevenage. "OK Wishbone, give me a sit-rep."
Bravo Two Zombie (Book 3): The Final Solution Page 5
