Adrenal7n

by Russ Watts

  CHAPTER 18

  “Careful,” yelled Neale. He signalled for Bashar and Carrington to cross the road. “Mind out for that courier van, there’s a zombie in the—”

  Bashar saw a zombie slowly climb down from the front cab and he kept his distance. The zombie wore the familiar brown overalls of the courier company yet the uniform had been slashed and the man had terrible bloody wounds running up his neck. Bashar made it across the rumbling bridge with Carrington where they joined Neale, Marama and Rad who were sheltered beside a lamppost.

  “You okay?” Neale looked Bashar over.

  “Yeah, we’re fine.” Bashar looked at Carrington who was anything but fine. He had a look of bewilderment on his face and since the sinking of the warship hadn’t spoken. His neck tie had become loose once more and his neatly cut hair had become dishevelled. He had gone from looking the part of a statesman to a tramp in mere seconds.

  “Where’s Tony?” asked Bashar. The fog was steadily advancing over the bridge bringing with it a plethora of dead bodies, their limbs working in stiff, jerky movements. Bashar saw where the road split and several cars had crashed into one another.

  “Finding us some wheels,” replied Neale.

  “Lissie wanted to go with him,” added Marama. “Lulu went as well, to watch their backs.”

  “Here comes the cavalry.” Rad nodded at a group of soldiers heading up the bridge.

  There were only six men, all with guns drawn ready to fire. Their uniforms were covered in blood. They jogged past the vehicles and crouched down next to the courier van. One of the men put a bullet between the eyes of the driver as the others opened fire on the zombies marching over the bridge. Many zombies fell, but many kept coming despite the barrage of bullets. Bashar saw chest cavities explode and arms ripped to shreds as the soldiers laid into the first wave of the undead. Slowly the men crept forward as they shot the zombies. Bashar felt a hand pat his shoulder and Neale indicated that it was time to go. It was impossible to be heard over the crackle of gunfire and the sound of the demon ripping apart the last remnants of the HMS Duncan.

  Bashar followed Neale, ensuring Carrington stayed close, and ran toward the abandoned vehicles where Tony and Lissie were sitting inside a people carrier. The front bonnet was damaged and there was a large dent in one side, but unlike so many other vehicles on the road it hadn’t gotten tangled with anything else. The car’s windows were smashed and a disturbingly large amount of blood had soaked into the upholstery. Neale threw out a travel cot and scattered soft toys over the road. The engine was running and the rear door open, and Bashar waited anxiously for Marama, Rad and Neale to climb in. Marama climbed up onto Rad’s lap as Bashar pushed Carrington in. It was going to be a squeeze but better than being out in the open.

  “Go on,” said Bashar, as he helped the Prime Minister into the back of the wagon. Carrington appeared to be in shock and let Bashar push him into the seat.

  “Let’s go.” As Bashar climbed in next to Carrington, Tony revved the engine and looked through the broken side window at the soldiers. “Where are the rest of them?”

  “I hate to think,” said Lissie. “God help them.”

  They watched as two zombies suddenly pounced on one of the men, dragging him kicking and screaming to the ground. The other soldiers turned their guns on their comrade, splitting open his skull and killing his two attackers. Quickly they turned back only to find more of the dead coming at them.

  As Tony stared at the scene he saw something he never imagined he would witness in real life and certainly not in London. The black demon Belphegor, at least a hundred feet tall, was proudly standing over Westminster Bridge. It had finished playing with the warship and reared up to its full height. Its magnificent black torso was dripping with blood and water, and it seemed as if half of the Thames was clinging to its body. As Belphegor reached an arm down a torrent of water was spewed onto the bridge and drenched the five soldiers still remaining. They turned their guns toward the black beast but Tony could tell it was futile. Their bullets had no impact. It was like throwing peas at an elephant. Distracted by the demon another soldier fell under the zombies. The water began to rise over the bridge’s balustrades and swamp the road. Churning thick mud joined the water in submerging the bridge, the soldiers and the dead.

  “God help us all,” said Tony, as he watched the soldiers succumb to a painful death.

  Bashar slammed the car door shut and Tony pulled the people mover out of the road. He drove up onto the pavement to avoid the mangled wreckage and then back onto the road. They had to escape the dead and the Thames that was now overflowing its banks and drowning the southern side of the river.

  “Take a left, Tony,” said Lissie. “It’ll be faster on the B300. We can skirt around the back of Waterloo and through Southwark.”

  Tony dragged the car across the road. It felt cumbersome and slow, but it was moving. “Okay. I just hope we don’t run into any blockages. This bloody thing weighs a tonne and has all the manoeuvrability of a dead horse.”

  A zombie lurched out into the road swinging its arms. Tony put his foot down and clipped the dead man, sending him spinning away into the gutter. As they turned the corner another zombie shot out and fell right under the wheels of the car.

  “Bloody hell, how far is it?” asked Neale, rubbing his head.

  “I can’t get around the corners very fast in this,” said Tony, “but I’m going as fast as I can. You want me to slow down?”

  “No, you’re good,” replied Neale. “Go for gold.”

  Aware that Belphegor was still trampling over the city, Tony sped past Lower Marsh Market, past a row of white vans with red smeared down their sides. He sped past more zombies that emerged from the thickening fog and as they were about to reach Waterloo Green he slammed on the brakes sharply. The van came to a halt in the middle of the road and Tony put the van into reverse.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Bashar. Squeezed in the back he had no view through the front window and only a partial view from the side.

  “There’s no way through,” said Tony. “We have to turn around.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Neale.

  “Definitely.”

  “There’s a tank blocking the road,” said Lissie. “Two, in fact.”

  “Great. Let’s stop here then. My legs are going to sleep,” said Rad.

  “Sorry.” Marama tried shifting her weight but only succeeded in prodding Neale in the back.

  “Want to swap places, Rad?” asked Neale.

  “He’s fine.” Marama sighed. “Lissie, what can you see? What about the soldiers?”

  “There’s none left,” said Lissie, “at least none alive. The entrance on the top of the tank is open and there’s quite a lot of blood down one of them. I can see more tents and barricades in the park and there’s a few figures ambling around. They’re dead. They’re all dead.”

  Tony slowly reversed the car so he could bring them back around the way they’d come.

  “What about cutting through the park?” suggested Bashar.

  “No good. The tanks have blocked the road completely. I guess they set up some sort of garrison here. They probably thought they would have this over quickly. Looks like they were overrun.”

  A zombie slammed into the car and clawed at the metal doors. Tony accelerated away and the zombie fell under the rear wheels.

  “You know a way around?” asked Neale. “Maybe one with a few less dead people?”

  “I’m going to cut down Baylis Road and take some of these smaller roads. The zombies should be more spread out and we’ll end up back on Westminster Bridge Road. With any luck we’ll be at the Shard in a few minutes.”

  “Do you think she’s following us?” asked Neale. “That witch?”

  “She prefers necromancer,” said Lulu. “At least I think that’s the politically correct term.”

  “You say tomato…” Neale said exasperated. “Tony, are you aiming for every bump on this road?”


  “One more comment, Neale, just one more, and you’re walking,” replied Tony, as the car swung onto Baylis Road.

  “Why the Shard?” asked Lissie to no-one in particular. “Why there?”

  All eyes turned to Carrington.

  “How should I know? We host a lot of dignitaries. I guess the PM’s family was attending a function of some sort.”

  “Who are we talking about?” asked Lulu. “I don’t even know who the PM is.”

  “Was,” corrected Neale.

  “He has a wife and a child, a son,” said Carrington. “He’s only eight months old.”

  “Had,” said Neale. “Am I the only one who remembers that the PM is dead?”

  “Well lucky for us the crew of the Duncan don’t know that,” said Bashar. “As far as they’re concerned that’s where they need to be, so that’s where we need to be.” Bashar looked at Carrington. “Assuming they are there, as the crew of that chopper will be thinking, where will they be? Where’s the helicopter likely to go?” asked Bashar.

  Carrington shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Remind me again why we brought him along?” Neale sighed loudly.

  “Why don’t we just keep driving?” suggested Marama. “Forget the Shard and drive out of London. We don’t stop until we’re clear.”

  “It’s an option but a decidedly risky one,” said Tony. “These roads aren’t exactly easy to navigate and I don’t know how far we’ll get. If we end up stuck or trapped, then what? How far will we get? I still think our best plan is to try to make that rendezvous with the helicopter.”

  “I agree,” said Rad. “I like the idea of just driving until we get to fucking France, but the chopper is much closer. If we can get up in the air then no zombies either.”

  “It’s the chopper for me too,” said Bashar. “I just want to get out of this city as quick as I can.”

  “But what if, with the Duncan gone, they change plans?” asked Marama. “What if whoever’s flying that helicopter decides to just cut and run?”

  “Look, let’s assume they’re still going to try to get her,” said Tony. “There’s no reason to think they won’t. The Shard isn’t that far so we might as well try. We’ll know soon enough if it’s there or not. And we don’t need to know where the PM’s family is, only where they’ll pick them up from. There’s a five star hotel in that building and a helicopter landing pad for those rich enough to afford it. It was around the twentieth floor I think. That’s where we’re going. The PM’s family would have some security, right Carrington?”

  “Correct. Of course.”

  “So it stands to reason that they’ll get to safe ground. They may have got word out that they are awaiting pickup from the Shard. I think the helicopter is their best shot. We get to the landing pad up on the twentieth floor and hitch a ride with the PM’s family.”

  “Let me guess. The power is out which means the lift is out?” Neale sighed again. “At least we get to spend some quality time with our Prime Minister. How’s it going, chuckles?”

  Carrington looked blankly at Neale. “The ship… the government… it’s gone, all gone. London is gone.”

  “Not quite yet,” grunted Tony, as the car’s wheels skidded in a pool of blood.

  The journey for the next few minutes was as much terrifying as it was uncomfortable. Whilst the road was level and for the most part straight, the zombies kept appearing and bouncing off the car. Policemen, nurses, buskers, children; all the people who made up London were there, their undead bodies shuffling unchecked through London’s streets. The demon behind them was out of sight, yet unmistakeably close. Every step or roar from Belphegor sent shuddering vibrations through the ground. Buildings all along the road were on fire and abandoned cars lay scattered across the streets. Central London resembled a warzone and as they passed Borough Station the street became clogged with the dead. As another rotting body struck the car Tony realised they would need to find a clearer road or they would not make it. Abandoning the car would come at some point, but he wanted to be a lot closer to the Shard than they were. It was still half a mile away and they needed to cover as much ground as they could by vehicle. Shops and cafés began to grow in number as they sped toward Borough High Street which meant the zombies did too. Tony knew they still had to get past London Bridge Station where there would have been many more people.

  “I did a gig there last week,” said Neale, indicating a small doorway on the right side of the street. “The George Inn. It was a nice little place.”

  A swarm of bodies had crowded around the doorway and were banging on it as tendrils of mist circled them.

  “There must be someone inside.” Bashar tried to peer at the second storey but he couldn’t bend his neck down far enough to see.

  “That or they really need a pint,” said Neale.

  “Never mind that,” said Tony. “Can anyone see or hear the chopper?” Tony steered them around yet another car. His arms were aching from the effort of keeping the wheel under control and his hands were sweaty. He clipped the car’s wing mirror, shearing it off, and reluctantly drove straight over the dead body of a small child. “Tell me it’s up there somewhere, please?”

  “Can’t tell for sure,” said Rad, staring up through the open window. “I think I can hear it, but the fog’s too thick. I can’t see that demon thing. I think it’s behind us somewhere on the Thames.”

  “Is that it?” Marama squinted up into the sky. She could see something hovering above Borough Market, a dark shape moving quickly through the sky above the rooftops.

  Rad frowned. “It’s too low. I’m not sure what it is.” He leant closer to the window and looked up. What he saw made his bones freeze. The witch was flying above the city. There was no broomstick or magic wand. It was just her cloaked in a black robe on her own. She did not lie horizontally when she flew but was standing upright, with one leg slightly curled into her other. Noticing the red hair and pale skin, Rad knew without a doubt it was her. He brought his head back into the car.

  “Are we there yet?” he asked Tony nervously.

  “What is it?” asked Bashar.

  “Look, are we nearly fucking there or not?” Rad wondered if the witch was tracking them or the chopper. Was she bringing her undead army with her or was she alone? He didn’t want to know the answer, he just wanted out of the cramped car, and out of London.

  Bashar guessed what Rad had seen. “It’s her, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. He could feel it. She had set her demon loose upon the city and was making sure she rounded up enough souls for him to keep going. She was the one in charge, not Belphegor. The demon was another tool for her to destroy mankind. All that talk of him being her Lord was a ruse – she just wanted the power he provided her with. Though the roar of the demon was tremendous and the helicopter’s rotor blades were overhead, Bashar could hear the woman whispering inside his head.

  She’s waiting.

  Was the woman talking about herself? Why did he keep hearing those words? Bashar’s thoughts were stopped by another bang as the car struck another zombie. He sensed things would end soon. If they were going to try for the helicopter then they would have to ditch their ride. It would mean gong on foot out onto the streets and up into a high-rise building. Had the others really thought through how they were going to manage? The chance of them slipping into the building unnoticed was slim. The zombies would follow which meant if they missed the pick-up they would have a hell of a fight getting out of the tower, if not impossible.

  “Right, listen up,” said Tony, as the car skidded around a sharp turn and onto St. Thomas Street. “We’re going for it. In a second we’re bailing. I’ll get us as close as I can.”

  “Fuck me, the street is teeming with them,” said Neale. “We’re really doing this?”

  “No other option.” Tony grunted as he saw what lay ahead. The Shard loomed high above them, its upper floors poking above the fog and smoke. Before the entrance lay a wall of zombies. There
was a row of ambulances lining the side of the road, their back doors wide open and lights flashing silently. Overturned stretchers and dead nurses littered the road.

  “Christ, what happened here?” asked Lissie.

  “Guy’s Hospital,” said Neale plainly. “They must have been in the process of evacuating. It’s just across the road. Looks like a slaughter took place here. God, how many died? How many made it out?”

  “Doesn’t matter now.” Tony spotted a gap between two ambulances on the northern side of the road. It was just about large enough for the people carrier to squeeze through. The entrance to the Shard was on the other side. “Hold onto your hats.” Tony drove as fast as he could and aimed for the gap. He immediately began to drive through the crowd of zombies and the car began to lose speed. Countless bodies fell under the vehicle or bounced off it to the pavement. “Get ready!” shouted Tony.

  “Tool up with whatever you have and don’t fuck around,” said Bashar. They all had a knife or weapon on them apart from Carrington. Bashar thrust his hammer into Carrington’s hands. “Take this and stay by my side. Got it?”

  Carrington nodded silently and Bashar saw the slight break in the row of ambulances that Tony was aiming for. The air rushing through the van’s open windows was cold and evening had started to settle over London. Outside on the road the zombies were waiting. He knew he had to make it through this. He had to make it to Nurtaj. After everything he had been through he didn’t want to fail now. He had survived everything they could throw at him and he was still on his feet, still fighting for her. He gripped the meat cleaver tucked between his legs and prepared to fight, not for himself, but for his wife. Nurtaj was waiting.

  The car scraped against one of the ambulances. For one brief moment the screeching and scraping of metal on metal drowned out the moaning of the dead and the deep roar of the demon. There was a flash of red and white as Tony forced the car through the gap and then they stopped, skidding to a halt almost right outside the entrance to the Shard.

  “Go, go, go,” ordered Tony. “Everyone out.”