"How long for the transfusions?” demanded Bruger.
"Twelve hours," responded Boardman.
"What about the mind control treatment? I want these as my personal guard.”
"Another six Karl," smiled Boardman, confident of his new promotion within Bruger’s inner circle.
Bruger paced over quickly to tower above the scientist. “You have done great work Jeremy but don't push it.”
Blade couldn't keep the smile from his face as Bruger turned and headed for the door.
Blade allowed the smile to stay as he studied Boardman.
"Let's go Blade, I want to talk to The Butcher.”
Blade lost his smile while Boardman found his. He knew Blade was terrified of The Butcher and this for him was revenge. He also, in that instant, came to a decision about Bruger, the man was never satisfied, after all he had achieved for him he knew that the moment he was of no use to him he would dispose of him. “Well we can't have that can we?" he whispered turning to face the four growling men in the cell as Bruger and Blade closed the lab door behind them. "Mr. Bruger, no........Karl," he shouted in defiance, "will not take my life as if I were nothing. And you my four comrades," he smiled, "are going to ensure that.”
#
Andrew caught fleeting glimpses of a moving crowd. He was part of it, he was moving with them and the smell......the smell was of putrid flesh. Those in the crowd were pushing up against him. There were arms with open wounds stretched over his shoulders, blood soaked hands with torn and broken nails reached towards the elderly man who was moving only a little faster than the WDs were just ahead of them. Then the shutters went down completely as the beast took hold and Mutant 221 shot forward of the mob bringing the old man down, the mass of slower moving WDs joined him in a feeding frenzy that left a pile of bloodied bones and a viscous smear on the road. Andrew suddenly shot awake. He......he was standing in a road. Looking down, there was a skeleton with WDs all pulling at it, tearing away the last scraps of flesh with their teeth. It was fresh, he guessed he had been feeding. He backed slowly away, the WDs taking no notice of him, he was one of them and he could not, would not, allow his body, his soul, to be dominated by this thing that had seeped through every cell within him. Turning his eyes, he swept around the surrounding buildings, settling on an office block that projected twenty floors into the sky. It would end here, while he was Andrew he would use the slim windows of free will that came and went and stop this thing from using him. Walking away from the feeding pack, he headed for the building. This ended now, he swore to himself.
#
The following morning Knight was manning the CCTV cameras facing out into the outer-lands at the gate where Hog had entered and Mutant 221 had been last seen. Anderson, Tom, Hog and two full teams of troops were preparing to exit the Fort and enter the outer-lands to search for the Mutant that they all agreed was a crucial link in their search for the cure to the plague. Suddenly Knight spotted something strange, something that he had never seen before. At the farthest reaches of the cameras he could see a pack of WDs in a frenzied scrum on a wide road, clearly feeding on some poor soul, but this wasn't the strange thing. What was strange was that a lone creature was trudging away from the feeding group. The Fort London President had never seen a Mutant walk away from Pure flesh. This had to be Mutant 221. Reaching for the radio he kept one eye on the screen and made a connection with his security chief. “Craig.”
"Anderson here," came the instant response.
"Hope you guys are ready to leave because I have just spotted Andrew.”
"Mount up guys and get that gate open," shouted Anderson to his team as he ran around to the driver’s door of his jeep. "Leaving FL now Steve, give me a location.”
The large steel gate opened and three Land Rover Discoveries roared through into the outer-lands.
"Got you on screen now Craig," informed Knight. “Take the second left on the street you’re on, go to the top of that road and go right. You will see a small swarm feeding on your right. Forty metres beyond them there is an office block on the left, red brick, our guy is in there."
"Ok Steve, keep us in sight and......." The FL security chief suddenly stopped. "Shit..........." Anderson hit the brakes as he looked in the rear view mirror to see Hope staring back at him from the back seat.
Knight saw Anderson’s jeep come to a skidding halt. “Craig, you got a problem down there?”
"No...., what I got Steve is Hope in the back of my Discovery."
"She's not supposed to be there," snapped Knight.
"No shit," replied Tom.
"We'll have to bring her back," cut in Anderson.
"Negative," responded Knight, working the zoom on the CCTV camera facing the ongoing scene. "Mutant 221 has just climbed up onto the parapet wall at the top of that office block, I think he's gonna jump.”
#
Bruger’s convoy formed up outside of Boardman’s lab the following morning. Some of his troops were left making preparations for their trip to Scotland, packing flesh from the Cutting Sheds into freezer wagons. Blade was responsible, with a team of troops, with loading the Mutant army into a long line of DAF T45 4x4 troop carriers. He controlled them using a synthesiser headset which, he had to admit, he found exhilarating. The feeling of power was completely intoxicating and he could fully understand how a man like Bruger would revel and embrace such control. Blade had to endure a visit to the Cutting Shed with Bruger the night before where the FW leader studied the stocks of food for his army of creatures. He also wanted to ensure The Butcher was clear on his role in keeping the food coming when ‘Operation Vanquish’ began, for the supply lines to his marching army would be vital. Blade had probed several times the previous evening to find out why the lengthy trip north was so important but Bruger had simply stonewalled him every time. But one thing Blade did know was that whatever it was he was hiding was big. Blade had been around the man long enough to know his moods and the one he was displaying was worrying. Something on a huge scale was about to take place and drawing on past experience of Bruger’s plans, he had every right to be concerned for they generally ended in one of two ways, death or multiple deaths.
Bruger marched into Boardman’s lab leaving Blade and his team of minions completing their tasks. "OK Jeremy, before we take a look at your efforts do you have the vials?”
Bruger had instructed his pet scientist to have two small vials prepared for him. One would contain a sample of Boardman’s cocktail for creating Mutant soldiers and the second one a sample of white lightning. The Fort Warwick leader trusted no one, he wanted them as an insurance for the future, a backup in case Boardman was no longer around. There would always be a scientist somewhere out there who could analyse and replicate the samples.
Boardman handed over two cylindrical tubes measuring approximately sixty millimetres long and around fifteen millimetres diameter, each had a tiny loop in the top through which the scientist had threaded a length of leather cord which he had tied into a loop as per Bruger’s strict instructions.
The Fort Warwick leader grinned as he took them and placed the cord over his neck with great reverence as if he were handling a sacred religious artefact, which in the crazed man’s eyes they were, for they contained his own god, his power base. “I hope these samples are exactly as I asked," hissed Bruger, fixing the nervous scientist with blurry bloodshot eyes.
Boardman swallowed. He had thought about sabotaging the samples but his fear of the brute of a leader outweighed his recognition that Bruger was ensuring he had the fruits of his labours should anything happen to him. "Yes......yes of course Sir."
"Good," beamed the Fort Warwick leader, clapping the small man on the shoulder with a thundering blow. “Now show me the magic you've worked with my personal guards."
Boardman led the leader over to the cell where the four men sat side by side on a bunk. Each had been dressed in olive green fatigues and each wore highly polished boots. "Stand," ordered Boardman.
Th
e four creatures stood smartly, looking every part of highly trained soldiers, the only give away was the slight curling of lips as the pair approached, showing bloodied teeth and the most chilling feature of all was the bloodshot eyes that warned of the inner rage within.
Bruger stood wide eyed like a child on Christmas morning who got the bike he had begged for. “Outstanding Jeremy," spoke Bruger, unable to take his eyes from the four troopers. "Bring them out," he ordered.
Boardman tested his new position. "Why don't you, Karl?” offered Boardman, hitting the release button for the cell door that slid open.
Bruger stepped forward. “Step out."
The four Mutants stepped smartly out and stood automatically in a neat line in front of their master.
"Your duty," he began in a clear strong voice, "is to stay close to me at all times, to protect and guard me from any danger. No one is to approach me without my express order.” Bruger walked up and down the line repeating the order. Each Mutant’s head swivelled, tracking him as he walked. Each set of eyes locked on to him, the rage burning within and Bruger enjoyed that, the danger of it, the thrill of the control. Happy that his orders had been processed, Bruger turned to Boardman. "You have done well Jeremy, just keep growing my army. I want to see many more new troops when I return from Scotland.” The FW leader moved in close to Boardman, his expression changing in a beat. "Disappointing me Jeremy will have grave consequences.” With that he turned and marched out of the lab, his four bodyguards close on his heels.
Boardman watched through the window and smiled as Blade approached Bruger only to have his path blocked by two of the Mutants who bared their teeth at him in warning. Bruger had got his ring of steel. The scientist opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small remote control, not unlike a fob for a car or an automatic garage door. "Grave consequences," hissed the scientist, rubbing his thumb over the cover of the fob that screened a small red button within. "I'll show you grave consequences Karl.”
#
The large column moved out of The Keep half an hour later. They were watched by a lone man positioned on a slight hill overlooking the camp. The Preacher had studied meticulously the rhythm of the stronghold over the previous twenty four hours, he knew there were ten guards on duty at any one time, that they changed every eight hours, that there were thirty guards in total and a dozen cooks and support staff. Something else he noticed was that the perimeter guards left a ten minute window between changes, he suspected the two teams were eating or possibly just talking shit. This lapse would be crucial to a plan he was formulating. From information received from Wishbone he knew there were a dozen men working in the Cutting Shed under the monster known as The Butcher so all told the camp held 55 men and twenty eight women who helped with the running of the stronghold and supplied recreation for the men. The Preacher’s task was simple, he intended to wipe out this den of vipers, to wipe from the face of the earth the hell hole that had been taking members of his flock and reducing them from thinking, loving men, women and children into cuts of meat for Bruger’s army of Mutants. As far as the giant black man was concerned, the guilt of each was equal. Each knew what was taking place within the stronghold so each would pay the same price, that price was death.
Chapter 17
"Steady Tiger"
Thanks to information supplied by Kitchen Man, the communications experts at Fort Hope were able to stabilise their communications systems enabling them to have partial contact with "The Spirit of the Sea" as it powered towards Southampton in the UK. They knew that as they got nearer to Britain’s shores they would only be able to contact at certain times using the narrow window when the satellites aligned but for now they had the luxury of constant communication. Today’s contact with the cruise ship was just prior to that valuable window of time when they could communicate with the UK. The link, having been established, was patched through to President Nelson’s office. "Mr President, we have Captain Argent from The Spirit Of The Sea for you."
"Captain, great to be talking to you," opened President Nelson.
"Thank you Mr President, it's a pleasure Sir," responded Captain Argent.
"How is your schedule looking Captain?”
"If anything Sir we are slightly ahead. At present speed our ETA is ten hundred hours, five days from now and we intend to anchor four miles off Ventnor in the English Channel.”
"That’s great news Captain, I will be speaking with Fort London in a few moments so will advise them to have their people marshalled ready for loading five days from now. This is a great service you have undertaken for all mankind."
"It's a privilege Sir, you can rely on us to bring them safely state side."
"God speed Captain," closed President Nelson.
There followed a few minutes of static before the speaker came to life once again. “This is Steve Knight from Fort London here.”
"President Knight, it's good to speak to you," responded President Nelson.
Knight chuckled. "That address seems strange coming from the President of the USA Sir."
"Shall we agree to drop the titles?" suggested Nelson.
"Works for me Zack," confirmed Knight.
"OK Steve so here's the news hot off the press. The Spirit of the Seas will be aiming to moor off the coast of Ventnor at ten hundred hours, five days from now. You need to have your people in position for transfer to the ship the evening prior to ensure there are no slip ups. We will be able to take ten thousand and as we speak there are two further cruise ships being prepared to make the crossing. This will give us thirty thousand souls per crossing Steve."
"I don't wish to sound ungrateful Zack but that is going to take a lot of crossings to move hundreds of thousands of our people plus the other outposts who opt to leave."
"I can understand your frustration Steve but rest assured that we will do everything we can to get you and your people to Fort Hope as quickly as possible.”
"Just so you know, Craig Anderson will be in the first group along with Hope."
"Looking forward to meeting them both. Have you got the message to those other outposts?”
"Made a start Zack and some are buying into it but there are quite a few who are not interested in sailing off into the sunset.”
"Lead a horse comes to mind Steve. In either case, you get your first group of people to Southampton in time and tell them to keep their eyes on the horizon, they're in for a surprise.”
President Wilson was right, the Pure of Fort London would witness a surprise on the horizon in just a few days, only not all surprises bring joy. The one they would get would not be the one he had planned.
#
The Preacher reviewed his plan over and over again, creating a blueprint inside of his head that would serve him well once the action began. Laid out on the ground in front of him was his arsenal, divided into twelve neat pats. Around eight centimetres square and three centimetres thick, was the lethal PE-4 plastic explosive that The Preacher had become familiar with in a previous life. At the side of this deadly dozen were twelve digital radio detonators, a radio detonator base unit and a handheld firing transmitter unit with twelve buttons. Next to this sat an FGM-148 Javelin, a fire and forget missile launcher, the missile could be set to take a top-attack flight profile against armoured vehicles, but could also take a direct-attack mode for use against buildings. That was what The Preacher planned this evening just as dusk was dropping, when he would target the building that housed the radio communications centre. With that taken out of the equation the camp would be isolated, shut off from the outside world. His trade mark ankle length leather coat lay across the passenger seat of his jeep, multiple inside pockets contained a small arsenal of its own. The deep pocket in the right hand side contained a Remington 870 12 gauge pistol grip shotgun that held two 3 inch shells and one in the chamber. If he chose to reach to the left he could choose a Glock18C hand gun that could flip from a single shot to a fully automatic weapon that could empty its mag in seconds via the 4
.6 inch barrel. Lower left would give the option of an especially hardened three part extending baton for close up work, lower right was a set of brass knuckle dusters. Under his coat, in the small of his back, sat a specially designed harness that housed a warrior fixed blade combat knife sitting in a leather sheaf with a differential hardness of the quality of a clay tempered Samurai sword. For good measure, in a pocket middle right, was a Tomahawk Smith and Wesson extraction axe that weighed in at 2 pounds 11 ounces which was heavy but for a man at nearly six feet seven and weighing in at a little over two hundred and thirty pounds, it posed little problem to wield. There were a couple of boot knives and various other implements that could cause pain and death. In essence, when wearing the coat, the man was an awesome walking arsenal of weaponry. Checking his watch, he slid on his coat and placed a canvas bag with a long strap over his shoulder. Into this he placed the pats of PE-4 and the detonators. Moving like a shadow through the wooded area, he took advantage of the closing darkness. As his ten minute window, during the guards change over approached, he made his pledge. “Time for retribution.”
#
The three Land Rover Discoveries roared past the feeding WDs and screeched to a halt outside the office block where Mutant 221 had entered earlier. Two teams immediately set up a perimeter as the WDs caught their scent and began their shuffle towards them.
"Tom, you’re with me," instructed Anderson, heading for the main entrance of the high rise building. "Hog, you watch Hope.”
Bravo Two Zombie (Book 3): The Final Solution Page 12
