The two men took one look at each other as Anderson pumped a round into his Mossberg.
"Let’s get our girl back," spoke Tom.
The pair ran to the roller door pressing their backs up against the heavy steel either side of the small personal door set into one side.
Anderson took a step forward, turned and pointed the Mossberg directly at the door lock and pulled the trigger, pumped in a second round and lifting his foot, kicked in the door. Both men ran through into the warehouse, Tom going left, low and quick, his MP5 swinging in a wide arc looking for any targets. Anderson went right mirroring his partner’s movement. Both ended up with their weapons pointing at the Mutant that stood with a length of pipe raised over one shoulder, his head twitching in a vicious tick, his lips curled back in warning. Behind him, sat against a wall with her knees pulled up to her chest was Hope, her head down, her hands pressed tightly over her ears.
"Do we take him out?” asked Tom, freezing like a statue.
Hope's head snapped up.
"Don't move Hope," spoke Anderson, quickly remaining as motionless as Tom. "We've come to take you home."
Hope ignored Anderson, jumped to her feet and ran towards the Mutant. "Please don't hurt Andrew," begged the child, standing in front of the snarling creature.
Andrew looked down at the child, his lips relaxing into a ghost of a smile.
"Craig am I going crazy?" asked Tom from the side of his mouth. "That’s a Mutant and it...... it's protecting Hope.”
Anderson slowly laid his shotgun onto the ground. "Put down your weapon Tom," he ordered, his eye's remaining locked with the Mutant’s.
Andrew could feel the heat building inside, could feel the pressure growing inside his head as his vision began to swim. He had managed to hold back the beast but it was about to take him, he had to get away from the child.
Anderson watched the Mutant’s features contorting with an inner turmoil, its head twitching back and forth in snapping movements.
"This is not good Craig," hissed Tom.
"Hope listen to me, walk towards me and do not look behind you." Anderson lifted his arms slowly towards her causing a growl to escape the Mutant’s lips.
Hope began to walk towards Anderson. "He won't hurt me," she spoke sternly.
"I know," soothed Anderson smiling, “but.... keep coming," he encouraged, beckoning with his hands.
Andrew’s vision was sliding in and out as the beast fought for control of his body and soul.
Tom and Anderson watched as the Mutant’s entire body began to shake as if he were having a seizure.
Hope was close, Anderson jinked forward to get between Hope and the Mutant just as the creature threw back its head and let out a high pitched scream. "Get Hope, Tom," he ordered without looking back, his focus glued on the creature.
Andrew slipped away into the blackness, unable to hold back the beast. Sniffing the air he picked out the scent of flesh, time to feed on the Pure in front of him.
Hope screamed as Anderson pulled and aimed his Magnum. "Don't hurt him!"
The SAS man dodged the incoming Mutant unable to shoot the creature in front of Hope who he knew instinctively would never forgive him.
The scream from the child pierced the veil within the Mutant’s mind. Andrew had a split second of vision, “I have to get out." Andrew sprinted away, jumped up onto a crate and dived shoulder first through a window.
"Cap, this is Pump, we got a swarm building up out here.”
"Exiting now," responded Anderson.
The two men gathered up their weapons and raced from the warehouse.
"You weren’t kidding," shouted Tom, catching sight of literally hundreds of Tainted as the team piled back into the Land Rovers and sped back towards the stronghold.
"Spider are you still in place?” checked Anderson.
"Negative," replied the Sniper. "Had to make a hasty retreat, we're back inside the stronghold with Hog and The Preacher.”
"Ok we are inbound," advised the FL security chief.
"Got that," cut in Hog. “I’ll move the Daf as you approach. Just drive straight in same as Spider.”
Three minutes later Anderson, Tom, Hope and the other members of the team were safely inside the stronghold. Hope was taken to one side by some of The Preacher’s flock while The Preacher and Bull took Tom and Anderson into the warren of the plasterboard city to a small room where Wishbone sat tied to a chair looking terrified.
"Tell Mr Anderson all you have told me," instructed The Preacher.
Wishbone shook his head furiously. "No, not again, please I can't," pleaded the man who had come to the table of realisation of how far he had slunk as he admitted to his crimes.
The Preacher reached into an inside pocket of his ankle length coat and pulled out a Tomahawk Smith and Wesson extraction axe that weighed in at 2 pounds 11 ounces.
Wishbone began to speak rapidly, Anderson and Tom listened in disbelief and growing horror at what he was saying. By the time he had finished, they felt what The Preacher and Bull had felt less than half an hour earlier. Rage, uncontrollable rage.
#
President Nelson suddenly felt very weary. Three years at the helm of a much reduced United States of America had taken its toll. Decisions he had to make had left nightmares he would suffer with the rest of his life, decisions like the one he had just made for scorched earth. “Not really the answer I was hoping for Grant but you have my attention.”
Grant spoke for the next ten minutes, referring to notes he had made while talking to the odd named man from the UK. He told the assembled group that the UK had fragmented into strongholds, just as the USA had done. He told them of the two main strongholds, Fort London and Fort Warwick, and the war between them. He told of a man who tried to barter food for women, women who would be used as sex slaves. He explained in great detail of the ex-drug dealer and leader of Fort Warwick, how he ruled with fear and the use of white lightning, the designer drug his scientists had developed. The assembled group’s features reflected the shock and the horror they were feeling as Grant spoke of Karl Burger’s creation of a Mutant form of creature developed from the Tainted that roamed the land, a Mutant that moved with incredible speed and showed some semblance of normal reasoning, one that he used in gladiatorial games for his own amusement. Throughout, the President and his entourage listened in silence to what could only be described as something being read from a horror story but it wasn't, it was a cold hard reality and it was happening in the UK. But at last there was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel of gloom that Grant Wilson had woven with his words as he told them of a child, a child called Hope who was resilient to the plague and carried in her blood a potential cure to the curse that had wreaked havoc on mankind and thrown the world into chaos. He went on to explain how the scientists in the UK were unable to find the answer to her resilience due to limited equipment and facilities but also a shortage of experienced research staff.
As Wilson stopped talking, a stunned silence enshrouded the group. The President broke that silence as he seemed to speak for every man in the room. "We have to bring that child to the States, Grant.”
All parties nodded their agreement, each was aware of the research that had been carried out by the scientists within Fort Hope that had put them no closer to the answer of the plague after three years of exhaustive studies and experimentation but what the States did have was the best facilities in the world, the most cutting edge equipment and the cream of scientific minds.
"There is something else you need to know, Mr President," responded Wilson. "One of the ingredients for the cocktail Bruger uses to create his Mutants is the child’s blood. He kidnapped her and held her captive for a while and drained pints of it from her before she was rescued by Craig Anderson, the security chief at Fort London. Bruger is now hell bent on destroying Fort London and taking the child back.”
"We can't allow that," snapped President Nelson. "I would like you to send a message to this Kitche
n Man, Grant."
Grant Wilson, Chuck White and the assembled group waited collectively as the President studied the top of his expansive desk, his inner turmoil transparent as he seemed to shuffle options, weigh consequences, and consider costs. In the early days of Fort Hope, search and rescue runs had been an everyday occurrence but as fuel became scarcer they had all but finished, now it had to be used sparingly. They had a considerable amount and were working hard to bring refineries back on line and study alternatives but they were some way off. This latest news however opened such far reaching possibilities that all caution had to be set aside. He wondered, for a fleeting moment, if he had spent more resources on the communications problems whether they might have been able to find out this latest news much earlier but there always seemed to be some other pressing issue to deal with at Fort Hope.
Nelson slowly raised his eyes to the expectant gathering. "Tell them we're coming.”
Chapter 13
"Hell is coming"
Bruger clicked off his radio with Blade’s words still burning into his soul, yet again Anderson had dared to send out a message of defiance to him, yet again the man who had become his nemesis had challenged him. The Fort Warwick leader's head was throbbing, the red mist was coming down and he could not control it. Throwing down his radio he picked up the 36 inch 50 ounce Hickory baseball bat that he had used on countless heads over his time as leader and smashed it down onto the small radio, then he swung again caving in the front of a glass cabinet that stood in his office displaying a number of hand guns. Next went a couple of chairs that numerous visitors had sat on as he held court but would now never fulfil that requirement as they were smashed into splinters. Bruger was now in full flow as the Hickory bat cut left and right in powerful hands, his huge back and arm muscles pumped as he rampaged through his office completely out of control. Two guards came racing into the room as the storm of destruction continued. The first was hit squarely on the forehead killing him instantly, the second raced back through the door and closed it behind him. After four minutes the demolition ceased as the FW leader burned out, his energy spent, the red mist lifting. As he stood breathing heavily in the centre of the carnage, a guard opened the door a crack and threw in a radio handset and quickly closed the door.
"Mr Bruger it's Jag here......Mr Bruger you there?”
Bruger threw down the bat and struggled across the broken furniture. Stooping, he picked up the hand set, gulping in two huge lungful’s of air, he tried to compose himself. “Speak," he commanded.
"Mr Bruger we got it, we got the Phoenix."
Bruger’s head once again began to buzz, only this time it was exhilaration. "Is she complete?”
"Ready to go Sir."
"Fuel?”
"Fully loaded Mr Bruger."
Bruger smiled, Anderson was going to rue the day he ever crossed him. "Make sure she's secure Jag, I'll travel up tomorrow with Blade."
Bruger closed the line and turned to look out of a window that faced south. “Hell is coming Anderson, hell is coming.”
#
Anderson and his team travelled back to Fort London in a sombre mood. Hog and the remainder of his group decided to remain at the Stevenage commune overnight to assist them with completing the repairs required to secure the stronghold. The Preacher also remained to assist but following that he was intent on making the trip north in consequence of the information given to them by Wishbone. Hog had taken Wishbone out into the outer land outside of the stronghold later that day and tied him to a lamppost. As he walked away, the terrified man had screamed at him, screamed that Hog had promised not to hurt him. Hog ignored this and his pleas for mercy, kept walking and fired his shotgun in the air bringing WDs from every direction.
"Not gonna lay a finger on you, you son of a batch," shouted Hog in answer without turning, "but I reckon these fellas," he indicated with a wave of his shotgun at the mass of approaching Tainted, “have got other ideas.” As he threw his leg over his Harley, the screaming began, as he roared away it continued.
#
Kitchen Man sat with Steve Knight at the Barbican Centre which served as the power base for the elected President of Fort London. He explained in brief how he had managed to find a number of satellites he could bounce off to get a clean connection through to the Americans. He went on to advise the FL leader of the information he had passed on to them and he spoke of the position the Americans were in with the creation of Fort Hope and outlined the facilities, manpower and resources it contained which were clearly far more advanced and far reaching than those enjoyed at Fort London. It was as Kitchen Man was completing his report that Anderson and Tom arrived at the Barbican and joined the pair in Knight’s office.
"Bang on time, thank God you’re back safely," expressed Knight, pumping Anderson’s hand and slapping Tom on the back. “Come and join us and give us your report.”
Both men filled coffee cups from the ever full pot in Knight’s room and sat at the oval table that had been used for so many difficult and painful meetings in the past.
"I hear Hope's birthday excursion turned into quite an event?" grimaced Knight.
"Let’s just say if I had paid for that day out," replied Tom, "then I would be looking for a refund.”
"Is Hope Ok?” enquired Kitchen Man.
"She's fine, all things considered," assured Anderson. “Just how much do you know of today’s events?”
"We heard about the attack on the commune at Stevenage and the fact that you had to break off your planned treat for Hope to assist and that’s pretty much it," admitted Knight.
Tom looked at Anderson and winced. "You wanna fill in the blanks?”
Anderson began with the attack on the stronghold at Stevenage, went onto the bizarre events with the Mutant that attacked a group of WDs who had trapped Hope and then taken her to a place of safety and ended with the gruesome discovery that Bruger had teams of snatch squads taking entire communes to feed his Mutant army. Anderson only touched on the graphic details supplied by Wishbone on The Cutting Shed and a monster called The Butcher who ran it. They told of The Preacher’s plan to travel north to the compound called The Keep and explain to him the error of his ways.
Knight winced, he had come to know the giant of a man well and would not want him explaining such a thing to him.
"What happened to this Wishbone guy?" asked Kitchen Man.
Anderson and Tom looked to each other before Tom spoke. "You don't wanna know.”
Anderson looked to Kitchen Man. "Now I'm guessing you being here has some significance, plus the fact you have the look of a cat that got the cream.”
Kitchen Man smiled, "OK, here's the thing. You know how we have been having no luck with transmission beyond our own shores?”
Both men nodded.
"Well rip up the rule book!" The excited man beckoned them to a radio unit he had set up earlier in the day and tested just before Anderson and Tom arrived, checking that the link to Fort Hope was in place. Kitchen Man offered the handset to Anderson. “You got a call Craig."
The security chief’s furrowed brow and half smile reflected his thoughts. "Bit dramatic Kitchen Man."
"You might not want to keep this person waiting," smiled Knight.
"You wanna take this Tom?” suggested Anderson, pointing at the handset.
Tom simply shook his head.
Anderson pressed the send button. “This is Craig Anderson here.”
After a short pause there came a strong clear voice whose accent gave away their country of origin. “Hello Mr Anderson, pleased to be speaking to you at last."
"Could....could I ask who I am speaking to?" probed the FL security chief.
"Yes of course, my name is Zack Nelson and I am the current President of the Unites States of America."
#
Blade pulled up outside the castle at Fort Warwick with a heavy heart. He had known Bruger for a long time and he was an unforgiving man whose worst traits were being accentuated by sever
al factors. Worse was his hatred of Craig Anderson who had bettered him on numerous occasions, other factors were his constant use of steroids supercharged by ever growing use of white lightning. Walking down the corridor that led to Bruger’s office, he was surprised to see a group of guards listening at his leader’s door.
“New hobby boys?" asked Blade.
The group spun around unaware of the enforcers approach. "Boss has gone nuts," spoke Ginger, the lead guard. “Smashed his office up with a baseball bat and sure as hell killed Drongo.”
Blade paused with his hand on the doorknob.
"Wouldn't go in if I was you Blade," warned the lead guard.
"Yeah well... You ain't me are you?" replied Blade, with way too much bravado. Turning back to the door he closed his eyes and said a quick prayer before turning the knob and pushing the door open. Inside, the room looked as if a tornado had gone through, it was total devastation, every stick of furniture had been turned to splinters. The windows were all smashed and every ornament and picture had been pommelled. As the guards outside had said, Drongo lay on the floor near the door, his eyes wide open but unseeing, the top of his head split open with brain matter clearly visible but in all of this the thing that caused the breath to catch in his throat was the sight of his leader standing at one of the broken windows staring out like a statue. Blade spotted the baseball bat on the floor still coated with Drongo’s blood and walked cautiously forward. "Karl, you OK?”
Bravo Two Zombie (Book 3): The Final Solution Page 9
