by Ricky Fleet
“Beginners luck,” Harkiss said.
Smiling, Eldridge took several paces back and repeated the throw. Once again, the tip stabbed deep within the grain of the wood and the men whistled their approval.
“When did you become a circus freak?” Derby laughed.
“It’s taken me weeks of practice, but it was worth it. As long as Hague can cause a commotion or even take one out, I will finish the second. Even if Hague pussies out I should be able to get both before they shoot me. If I go down, you have to promise to finish this,” Eldridge asserted and they all nodded.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Harkiss said, “But you have my word, by the morning Baxter will be fucking dead. Or we will.”
“If all goes well at the armory we need to take Communications and Baxter at the same time. If we can cut the head off the snake the rest will be more likely to toe the line,” Derby offered.
“I think the new artillery commander will be an issue,” Harkiss pondered.
“Then he dies too,” Eldridge shrugged, “Meet in the mess hall at one am.”
“Are we really doing this?”
“It’s either this, or DB and Jonesy die along with more of our friends. Morrow is close to breaking point, it won’t take much for him to give them up,” Eldridge explained.
“Fuck it, what have we got to lose. Everyone we love is already dead,” Derby declared and walked out of the room. In a world of unending horror and loss, life loses much of its value and survival without hope is pointless.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I’m not judging, but why kill all those people?” asked Winston as they hopped another fence.
“We needed a distraction,” shrugged Mike, “They were it.”
Winston nodded, unperturbed.
“What, no smart ass response?” Debbie said.
“Nope. You did what you had to do,” he replied.
“But what about the children?” Mike asked, becoming irritated.
“Even with all this shit going on, they called me names,” Winston said sadly, “Every day, I would catch them laughing behind my back.”
“So you aren’t in the least bit concerned that we killed everyone inside those walls?” Mike snapped, grabbing him by the lapels of his thick coat. The lack of recognition of the monstrous act was driving him to distraction. Mass murder deserved more respect and the lack of fear in their new companion was annoying them both.
“I didn’t want them dead,” he admitted, “But I won’t lose sleep over it. The nuns were riding us all day long, telling us to repent our sins, asking what we had done to bring the wrath of God down on the world. The adults just ignored me the whole time. Surrounded by people, I was still alone.”
“So you’re not scared of us?” Debbie demanded. The first person to witness the ruthlessness of Mike and Debbie and here he was plodding along as if they had just walked through the complex waving at everyone.
“Everything is dead, or sort of, walking around instead of lying down. I could get eaten today,” he explained, “I don’t have time to be scared of you.”
“You are an enigma,” Mike said, shaking his head.
“I have never been used to wash out a bum hole, I’ll have you know!”
“Enigma means a puzzle, you dumbass. You’re thinking of an enema,” Debbie sniggered.
“It was a play on words.” Mike looked at Winston and threw his hands up, “You see what I have to put up with.”
“No wonder you are murdering your way across Sussex,” Winston acknowledged, patting him on the back in pity.
Debbie regarded them with confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“Winston agrees that you are not the sharpest knife in the drawer,” Mike explained.
“Huh?” she scowled.
“More like the lights are on, but no one is home,” Winston carried on.
“What fucking home?” Debbie was getting angry as she looked around.
“You can’t tell me you have never heard those sayings,” Mike said with suspicion. The blank look on her face made the two men laugh.
“It means you are deficient,” Winston pointed a finger at his temple.
“You fat wanker!” she screamed when it finally clicked and started chasing him around the field.
In spite of his size, he managed to outpace her and this just added fuel to the expletive diatribe pouring from her mouth.
“I’ll fucking kill you!”
“If you want my body, you have a funny way of showing it!” he shouted over his shoulder.
“I’m going to cut your balls off!” she gasped, finally slowing.
“I haven’t tried anything kinky before, but I’m game if you are!” he laughed as she bent double, trying to catch her breath and was rewarded with the middle finger.
“She makes up for the lack of smarts in bed,” Mike confided.
“Go… fuck… yourself…” she panted.
“No, that’s what your holes are for,” Mike stated. This got him the wanker hand motion.
“Plus, she is really beautiful, which helps,” Winston added.
“Fuck off, lard ass,” she snarled, able to breath properly again. They couldn’t miss the slight upturn in her lips, a sure sign that even with the insult, she had loved the compliment.
“If you keep being mean to me, I won’t sleep with you,” Winston cautioned.
“Over my dead body,” she snapped back.
“You would make a decent looking zombie,” Winston agreed, “I would probably still sleep with you.”
“What the fuck?” Mike looked amused and disgusted at the same time and Debbie screwed her face up in horror.
“Ok, a bit too much, sorry. I take it a bit far sometimes,” Winston admitted.
“Freak,” Debbie muttered.
After fifty feet Winston turned to Mike and whispered, “I’m right though, aren’t I?”
“Freak,” Mike chuckled.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Why are you so fat?” Debbie asked after another mile, her aches making her irritable.
“More calories being consumed than being used by my daily bodily functions?” Winston offered.
“Ha fucking ha. I meant how can you still be this big with no junk food. I doubt the sisters were stocking much in the way of chocolate and snacks,” Debbie sneered.
“Would you believe I am part Eskimo and the fat is just an extra layer of insulation against the cold?” he replied.
“No.”
“Ooh, tough crowd,” he said, holding a hand up for a high five from Mike that didn’t come.
“It’s a fair question, we don’t have any food for you,” Mike said.
“Well, you know that tree I climbed over the wall from?”
“How can we forget, it meant you could survive to drive me crazy,” Debbie huffed.
“See!” Winston fist pumped, “I told you I would drive you crazy with desire.”
“Jesus H Christ, do you have an off switch?” she complained.
“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. Anyway, I have used that tree on several occasions to go… shopping,” he admitted.
“Shopping?” Debbie looked at him quizzically.
“Mostly it was just breaking into houses to steal their sweets and potato chips. All the nuns had was vegetables for dinner, followed by vegetables for pudding,” Winston explained, wrinkling his nose.
“You don’t like vegetables?” Mike asked,
“Fuck no!” Winston declared, “I didn’t earn the nickname Salad Dodger by eating healthy food.”
“The nuns called you names?” Debbie asked.
“No. My parents,” Winston replied, falling silent for the first time, his perpetual grin sliding away.
“Aww, mummy and daddy didn’t love you?” Debbie mocked.
“Don’t!” Mike growled.
“What? It’s not my fault he is such a fucking loser,” she laughed.
Mike rounded on her and grabbed her by
the face, digging his fingers painfully into her cheeks, “I said… don’t!” he snarled inches from her face.
“It’s ok, Mike, she is right,” Winston said quietly, “I am a fucking loser.”
“You’ve made it this far on your own. You went out alone, through the zombies to find fucking snacks for Christ sake! I’d say that makes you a winner,” Mike said, releasing her. It was a rare thing for him to throw out a compliment, and almost unheard of for it to happen after only a couple of hours. Winston was proving to be a resourceful teenager as well as quite fearless in the face of the dead.
“Hold up,” Winston said, “Mike can I borrow your hatchet quickly? I want to see if there is any food in that home. I totally understand I can’t take yours.”
Through a break in the trees they could spy a small house; a simple two up, two down. It had likely been used as a farmworker’s cottage in olden times, much smaller in stature than the sprawling farmhouses of the landed gentry. A couple of undead were walking back and forth in the garden, possibly the owners who had returned home after falling to the plague.
“Have at it,” Mike said, handing the small axe over.
His bulk was still an issue, but once that weight achieved momentum it would cause some damage. Mike watched him tackle both of the zombies, the power of his blows carrying on the cold wind. A further zombie ambled from the open doorway and it met the same fate, splashing green goo all over the entrance. Picking up the corpse, much the same way Mike had done with the doomed nun, he threw the body to one side and disappeared into the gloom.
“I hate him; why do we have to take him with us?” Debbie hissed.
“Why do you hate him? Because he made you look like a retard?” Mike fired back.
“Don’t call me that!” Debbie sobbed, “It’s a horrible word.”
“Ok, sorry.” Mike pulled her close, “I see some of myself in him, that’s all. I was a big lad when I was younger and my parents never let up on me. Instead of just names, they would beat me too. Craig would try and protect me and take the punches sometimes, he is the only reason I am alive today.”
Debbie regarded him with pity, understanding his earlier anger at her taunts towards the young man. “I’m sorry, what an awful way to grow up.”
“In a way it has helped. It made me a survivor, the same as Craig. Without people like us, the dead would have already won,” he replied.
“I never wanted for anything. Even though we lived in a deprived area, my parents paid for the best education, the best clothes, the best toys. Most of the time they had nothing for themselves.”
“Yeah, we can tell,” Mike laughed.
“What do you mean by that?” she sulked.
“It means you are a spoiled brat, but one with a fine ass,” he said, playfully squeezing her firm bottom.
“I know I can be a bitch. In a way I wish I had had it tougher, like you.”
“Don’t ever wish for something like that,” he said quietly, a shadow passing over his face. The memories of trying to hide when his father would come home drunk, looking for a reason to beat him.
Winston came jogging back through the trees with a merry smile and two backpacks. He came to a stop and looked at the pair, “Are you ok? Have I done something wrong?”
“Not you,” Mike answered, “Memories, mate, bad memories.”
Winston nodded, “I get them too.”
“What the hell have you got there?” Debbie asked with curiosity, yet still unable to talk to him without an attitude.
“I have two gifts for you, M’lady,” he declared, bowing at the waist, which wasn’t easy.
“I don’t want anything from you,” she sneered and Mike squeezed her hand tightly enough to hurt.
“I’m not talking about my seed, or even my hand in marriage,” Winston replied, back to his jovial self.
“As if you would have a chance you disgusting…” she started to say but Mike squeezed hard enough to grind finger bones together and she fell silent.
“All joking aside, I thought you might need this.” Winston knelt down and showed her the contents of one of the bags. Within was a sleeping bag, assorted clean clothes, ration packs that soldiers used, which were highly nutritious, and water treatment tablets.
“Who leaves a perfectly packed rucksack in the apocalypse?” Mike asked, frowning.
“I think they might not have had much choice,” Winston said with sorrow. Turning the pack, the dried bloodstains were evident, “There was a lot of blood in the hallway. I think they were caught just as they were going to run.”
“Tough break,” Mike laughed.
“Thanks, I guess,” Debbie said with less venom than normal, “What was the other present then?”
“This,” Winston pulled out a huge bar of chocolate and handed it to her.
“Don’t you need it more than me? You wouldn’t want to ruin that fine figure,” she giggled and Mike’s face darkened.
“It’s ok,” he said, to Mike more than Debbie. “I was going to hide it and eat it later, but I really need to get in shape. I can’t rely on luck, good looks, and wit forever.”
“Well, thanks,” Debbie said with no mocking. Her mouth was watering at the thought of the sweet chocolate melting on her tongue.
“It’s my pleasure,” he smiled broadly, “And at least we won’t be as cold in the night with the sleeping bags.”
“You did good, buddy,” Mike patted him on the back. “I would have ignored that place completely.”
“I’m just glad I could help.” He grinned and even Debbie returned the smile.
***
The snow was largely melted by midafternoon, leaving the fields like a quagmire. Their feet were caked with clods of dirt and if they hadn’t been wearing the hiking boots, the suction of some of the terrain would have claimed their footwear long ago.
“What is that smell?” Winston asked, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.
“I don’t smell anything,” Debbie admitted.
“It smells like something has been burned,” Mike replied, finally catching the scent.
“If somethings burning, shouldn’t we avoid it?” she said fearfully.
“Not burning, burned,” Winston whispered, “Listen.”
“Zombies, and not just one or two,” Mike said quietly, pointing to a crest in the hill they were climbing.
“Shall we take a look?” Winston asked and Debbie cringed at the thought.
“Fortune favors the brave,” Mike agreed.
They kept low as the hill evened out and revealed the next valley. Before they reached a point where they would be visible to any waiting horde, it became clear they didn’t need to worry. The fields were barren of crops, with only the hardiest weed’s able to begin taking root. It wouldn’t be long before nature took back what was rightfully hers, with civilization falling to decay no less than the dead which stalked the world. In the middle was a deep, blackened crater with remnants of a large home spread far and wide. The moaning was coming from the undead, who had been literally blown to pieces by the explosion. Body parts lay strewn across a diameter of three hundred feet; arms, legs, torsos, and heads writhed on the ground. Only a couple had escaped injury enough to drag themselves slowly in circles, gradually burying themselves in the furrows as if they wanted to return to the grave.
“Do you think the gas blew up?” Debbie asked, remembering the story of how Kurt had detonated the houses of the child murderers.
“I don’t know,” Mike admitted.
“A gas explosion would have just levelled the building,” Winston explained, “That crater was from the impact of a missile or a shell. Something with a high explosive payload.”
“How the fuck do you know?” Debbie was dubious.
“Despite my magnetism with the ladies, I find it easier to play computer games than break their hearts,” Winston chuckled.
“Figures,” she sneered, but it made sense.
“Why on earth would they be destroying homes?�
� Mike pondered.
“Beats me,” Winston said.
“What’s that over there?” Debbie was pointing to a large expanse of concrete covered land surrounded by chain link fence. An abandoned tower rose from the ground on one side, bushes growing through the broken windows and rusted antennae leaning awkwardly from the roof.
“It’s Tangmere airfield. During World War II we needed as many runways as possible to launch bombing raids on the Nazis. These places were built to defend the south coast from the Luftwaffe but closed in the sixties when the cost got too great. It was used as a flying school and museum for a while too,” Winston revealed. He loved the tales of bravery and brotherhood that came from one of the darkest periods of history. If he had been more physically gifted, he would have joined the armed forces.
“We can try those hangars, there may be somewhere to bed down for the night.” Mike pointed to the colossal derelict buildings which once housed hundreds of combat aircraft.
Darkness was creeping across the horizon as they pushed under the rusty fence. The open expanse allowed them a good view of their surroundings and very few zombies had managed to trespass. Those that had were mostly specks in the distance and only two came to investigate the new arrivals.
“I’ve got these,” Winston said, while taking Mike’s axe again. “Get inside and take a look.”
“Shout if you need help,” Mike offered and watched the bulky figure jog towards the undead.
The massive doors stood open a few feet and wouldn’t budge on the corroded runners. They would be out of sight but unable to restrict entry to any zombies that managed to get inside the grounds. Just as Mike was about to look for a better place to hide, a glint of paintwork caught his attention in the gloom. Shining a flashlight, a small charter plane was situated to the rear of the hangar.
“Hello!” Mike called out and it echoed in the vast chamber.
“I think we are alone,” Debbie said after a few seconds of silence.
The aircraft had been cannibalized for parts, with the engines stripped bare and various sections of bodywork missing. It made Mike think of the zombies, the way they kept going even when torn and broken.
