The Pastor strode out of his church to meet his invited crowd, he climbed onto the bed of Jack’s truck so he could be seen and heard by all. They immediately went silent, knowing that whatever he had to say, it was clearly important.
“A half hour ago, our good friend and guardian Jack returned early with no supplies, you may all be wondering what the meaning of this is. A horde is approaching the town, the likes of which could only be gathered and guided by the Devil himself. We have perhaps four days until they reach Babylon,” said Wells.
“How many are there?” asked Dale.
“It’s hard to say, but thousands, maybe tens of thousands,” said Jack.
The crowd gasped, astonished by the news. The survivors had managed to establish a safe and pleasant community, having thought they’d faced the worst already.
“If we’d built the walls I told you to six months ago this wouldn’t have been a problem!” shouted Greg.
“None of that matters now, we can argue about the past or we can go forwards and maybe save this town!” said Wells.
“We cannot stay here. How do you expect us to fight those odds, we’ll all die! We should leave while we can!” screamed Greg.
“And go where? We’ll eventually face this danger anywhere we go, we’ve given up so much of our lives to these creatures, would you happily give up all that we have left?” asked Wells.
“What we have left is our lives, and we should like to keep it that way!” shouted Greg.
“There’s a chance that we could stop them,” said Wells.
“What do you suggest?” asked Dale.
“I’ll have to pass you over to Jack.”
Jack climbed onto the back of the truck alongside Wells, the crowd desperate to hear what amazing solution he had to the biggest threat they’d ever known.
“For the last year we’ve been stockpiling weapons and ammunition for use in the event of an emergency. This is the sort of emergency we were preparing for. It’s hit harder than anyone could have expected, but nonetheless, we must deal with it. Perhaps we will have to run, but you should never run when you have some chance of holding onto a position as strategically important as your homes,” said Jack.
“But we’ll be swamped, we won’t be able to kill them fast enough!” shouted Dale.
“Not if we wait for them to come to us no, I intend to take the fight out to the bastards!” explained Jack.
“That’s suicide!” said Greg.
“No, it’s the safest way of fighting you can imagine. We’ll fight from the backs of vehicles, always keeping the pace of the horde towards the town, never letting them get close. We’ll fight using nomadic tactics. They cannot shoot back and they cannot charge. We will shoot, fire and throw everything we have got at them, and just hope we can reduce their numbers enough in the days we have,” said Jack.
“And if that doesn’t work?” asked Dale.
“We’ll leave a number of people in Babylon, fixing up vehicles in case of evacuation, and others fortifying the town. Maybe we can’t kill all of them out there, but perhaps we can kill enough that the rest can be dealt with on our own walls!” shouted Jack.
“And what then? We’ll need all of the ammunition we have, a lot of the gas, more water to keep people hydrated, what will we have left?” asked Greg.
“We’ll have our lives and our homes, bullets and water can be replaced!” shouted Wells.
The crowd muttered, but none spoke out any further.
“This has become a military matter now, I will leave all of the planning to Jack who has the most experience in these matters, and once he has concluded his plans, I will take charge of the work in the town,” said Wells.
“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. Thirty five people will be needed for the fighting, ten will handle the building of defences, five to source, repair and modify vehicles for a potential evacuation, and five for guard duties in Babylon. Those on building duty can cycle with the guards for rest. No person here can slack!” shouted Jack.
“How do we sort who does what?” asked Madison.
“You all have your own skills and talents, I expect you to make an informed decision on what you’d be best at. We need efficiency. Please volunteer for what role you would be best suited to, any that have not decided by morning will automatically be allocated. The next few days are going to be gruelling and today’s been too long already. I suggest everyone has a good meal, prepares anything necessary for the morning and gets as much rest as possible,” said Jack.
“Alright, that’s it folks, we have a plan to get everything in order, for after today you may not have any time for anything other than for combat or evacuation! Meet in two hours for dinner. I know these are hard times, but if we stick together and work hard, we may just get through it,” said Wells.
The crowd disbursed in a hail of conversation, asking more questions of each other than anyone could answer. Wells and Jack knew it was an uncertain time for the town, surviving the zombie horde was a problem they had days to solve, maintaining their morale and discipline was the first hurdle.
Later that day, those who were not on guard duty were again assembled, awaiting their evening meal. Wells, Jack and Madison were sat at a table, discussing some of the ideas that they had for the following days. Those around them were loudly discussing the matter themselves, but to no end other than pass the time, and because they couldn’t stay silent.
“Madison, I want you to be in charge of finding, repairing and modifying vehicles, should we need them,” said Jack.
“Why? You know I can fight, I can shoot better than most of the men here!” Madison complained.
“Yes I’m well aware of that, but I need someone capable to manage our evacuations plans. Because if evacuation becomes necessary I want it to go smoothly, I know I can trust you on that. Also, you have a good eye for what is needed, and anyone can hit those targets anyway, it’s pretty hard to miss,” said Jack.
“But, you need me out there!” insisted Madison.
“No, I’m relying on you back here, don’t worry, you’ll have your turn to fight,” said Jack.
“You think the horde will reach the town?” asked Wells.
“Almost certainly, we should be able to reduce their number significantly, but the last fight will be at our doorstep. We can only hope that we’re able to do enough damage to make that a situation we can deal with,” said Jack.
“And what about me?” asked Wells.
“You have been our spiritual leader and manager, I suggest you maintain that position, the people need what little consistency they have left in their lives. As well as that, I’ll be leading the fight, Madison the vehicles. You need to allocate someone to handle the fortifications, I suggest Greg, he’s an obnoxious bastard, but capable at building. You will then be left here, in overall command of it all, the three groups with separate tasks, as well as the guard duty,” said Jack
“Ok, and let us pray we do not get attacked from any other direction,” said Wells.
“Indeed, that’s a gamble we’ll just have to take,” said Jack.
“I’ll need two more trucks ready for tomorrow, Dale and his brother have a couple that could work that have been laid up for a few months since we brought a ban on vehicles. I’d appreciate it if you negotiated their usage and get them gassed up before we leave in the morning,” said Jack.
“No problem, I’ll get on it as soon as we finish up here,” said Madison.
“Also, Molotov cocktails, they could really make a difference,” said Jack.
“How do we get those?” asked Wells.
“We need as many glass bottles as we can find, and enough gas to fill them, along with some motor oil. Stuff a rag through the bottle top and they’re ready to go,” said Jack.
“That sounds a little barbaric,” Wells added.
“Yes it is, and it’s exactly the sort of advantage we need in this fight. The horde is bunched up close and we’ll have the advantage of fighting from
safe positions, the perfect time for a Molotov,” said Jack.
“Ok, I’ll have a few men gather the supplies at first light and have them ready for you to oversee the finishing before you leave,” said Wells.
“Do you really think you can save Babylon?” asked Madison.
“If we work together and give it everything we’ve got, maybe, but I can almost guarantee you that the last fight will be at our very own walls. God hope we still have them by then,” said Jack.
“We will, I’ll see to it,” said Wells.
The town’s folk finished up their meal and went to their homes to get as much sleep as they could before the days ahead. It was an uncomfortable night for most, few getting more than a couple of hour’s kip all together.
CHAPTER NINE
HONOLULU, HAWAII
The small group had been on the trail for over an hour now and so far they had failed to find the runaways. The group of six wore a mixture of civilian clothes and military issue equipment and moved like a unit that had worked together many times before. Each of them men moved slowly, doing their best to avoid being spotted by their quarry.
The team had left the main perimeter of the research centre half an hour before and were walking down the empty road in the heart of one of the many abandoned districts on the island. Fuel for the power stations had run dry long ago, and with the only source of major power coming from the single remaining oil fired power station on the islands, the luxury of lighting was kept to the most populous and critical parts of the islands.
Decker, the group’s leader, was an ex-army soldier who had transferred to the company three years ago. Since the outbreak he had been moved to the primary laboratory on the island of Oahu. This site was where the most critical work was being done to find ways to contain and possibly eliminate the plague that had spread worldwide.
“Sir, I think we’ve found one of them!” called Terry, the newest member of the group.
The rest of the men halted, looking to their leader for the order. Decker nodded to Terry as he moved forwards, checking on his finding. Ahead of them was a single storey home, it had been long abandoned and most of its windows were damaged. The door was shut though and a light trail of blood led inside. With the lighting out in this area it was difficult to get a good look inside the building. Decker pulled his night vision eyepiece over his left eye, activating its thermal mode. The building and surrounding area were cold but there was definitely heat inside.
“Got you,” he whispered to himself before signalling to the group who instantly spread out, moving into positions to provide cover for the entry team.
Decker approached the door whilst Tony, a short man carrying a Mossberg M500 shotgun, moved to the other side. Tony has previously been a police officer but since the outbreak had found his time split between civilian work and assisting the security patrols on the island. He lifted the weapon up, ready for whatever waited for them on the inside.
Decker looked back, making sure the rest of the team was ready. He’d already swung his rifle behind him to his back, finding the weapon cumbersome and awkward to use in the confined spaces of a building. He lowered his hand and pulled out his stainless steel AMT Hardballer .45 automatic pistol. With one hand on the door, and the other wrapped around the hilt of his gun, he put his hand on the handle and pulled it down gently. At the same time he put pressure on the door to try and push it open. Unsurprisingly it refused to move, that could mean only one thing, the people inside had locked the door.
Without pausing he lifted his leg and slammed his boot in hard. The door splintered near the hinges but still refused to open. He turned to Tony who emptied two shells into the approximate positions of the hinges. With one more kick the door spun open before collapsing on its last remaining, but now shredded hinge.
As the door hit the ground Tony and Decker rushed inside. Tony was in first and moved off to the left, shotgun at the ready. Decker moved to the right, his pistol kept close to his body in case anybody was waiting for him. Terry entered the doorway, holding his Bernelli Super 90 up to his shoulder. The door to the right of Decker burst open and two men rushed towards him. Even though he was surprised by the sudden arrival of the two men he was able to put three rounds into the first, the bullets slowed the man but didn’t stop him. Before he could shoot anymore the second man smashed into his stomach, knocking the two of them to the floor. Tony now had a clear view of the first man and fired two shots from his Mossberg in quick succession. The first hit the man in the centre of the torso, the second in the arm, taking it off completely from below the elbow. The power of the weapon threw the man hard against the wall before he slumped down to the ground. Tony and Terry ran over to Decker who was trying to hold off the other man.
Tony arrived first and delivered a swift kick to the man, catching him in the forehead and flying backwards to the floor. Terry followed up with more kicks, forcing the man onto his back. Decker got up, wiping the blood from his split lip. His injuries seemed minor, though he was far from impressed at being knocked down so easily.
“Tie him up,” he ordered as he pointed at the man who’d nearly killed him, “is it me or are they getting stronger?”
The other two men laughed grimly as the tension from the encounter started to evaporate. This was quickly interrupted by an agitated looking Decker.
“Hold on!” he said as he looked around confused. He looked down to where the man should be. All that remained of the terribly injured man was a thick puddle of dark blood and his severed forearm.
“Where the fuck is the other one?” he shouted.
Terry looked down at the blood and Tony ran to the window, looking for any sign of the man.
“Fuck me!” said Terry, as he finished putting the restraints on his prisoner.
A series of gun shots came from outside followed by the extremely loud and unmistakable sound of a .44 magnum being fired.
“Come on!” ordered Decker as he ran for the door, his pistol at the ready.
As he left the house he found the missing man lying face down on the ground with a dozen bullet holes in his back and several more in the back of his head. About ten feet away stood a grinning Jason. In his hands he held a military issue M4 carbine, the shortened variant of the venerable M16 rifle. Stood next to him was the gung-ho hunter Joe, holding his revolver in front of him as though he was Dirty Harry himself.
“I thought you needed a hand,” he said sarcastically.
Decker moved over to the body and rolled it over. The man was wearing the research laboratories own uniform.
“Huh?” said Jason as he spotted the logos.
The body was riddled with wounds, but what really caught Decker’s attention was that it had a leg wound that he hadn’t noticed until now. The wound was old, at least half a day and still this man was able to walk, even run. He stood up, sighing.
“Okay, job done. Bag him, it’s time to head back.”
Tony and Terry stepped out, dragging their prisoner with them.
“Is it me or have we just captured another experiment?” asked Tony.
Decker nodded in agreement as he pulled out a walkie-talkie from his jacket.
“This is Decker, we’ve captured the runaways. Send in the trucks,” he said.
A short distance away a pair of yellow headlights lit up indicating the position of their transport back. With a growl the civilian Hummer trundled towards them with another two men stood on the back. As they got closer they switched on a large searchlight that bathed the scene in artificial daylight. Decker waved them off as the light almost blinded him. The trucks pulled up past them and skidded to a stop.
“Fucking amateurs!” muttered Tony.
Decker moved up to the truck as the driver opened the door and climbed out.
“Put the body in the back and keep an eye on the prisoner,” he said whilst pointing to the man still being held by his men.
The man nodded and moved to the prisoner. Decker turned back to his team whi
lst the others continued moving the two men.
“I think it’s time we had a chat with Dr Murphy,” he suggested.
The five men of his team nodded in agreement.
* * *
JOINT BASE PEARL HARBOR-HICKAM, HAWAII
Jackson and his two accomplices huddled down low to the ground to avoid being spotted. They’d left their truck several blocks away to avoid attention from the base security. Each of the men wore dark clothing to fit in with the night and pulled hooded tops over their heads. Jackson reported directly to Mr Ford, a small-time crook who had struck the jackpot in this nightmare situation.
When most people on the island had been running away, he’d built up a small and successful cadre of men who had helped him carve up a part of the city for himself. He was now a powerful man and responsible for most of the organised crime on the island since the creation of the zombie-free sanctuary. In fact the idea of the sanctuary had been a sly ruse on his part to create a population dependent on him and what he could do.
Jackson whispered to the other two.
“Ford said we need to take out the guards and the alarm system. Once they’re down we send up the flare and the rest will arrive. Before we can do that though, we need to get the power down or this plan is dead in the water. Got it?” he said firmly.
The other two men nodded eagerly, though whether it was their keenness to get it over with or that they were looking forward to the operation was difficult to tell. Greg, the younger of the two men was a shifty looking, dark haired man in his mid twenties. Jonathan, the third man in the group looked much surer of himself. He carried a substantial backpack with him, as well as a scoped rifle on his shoulder. Jackson pulled out his pair of night vision binoculars and scanned the base for signs of the patrols. He picked up the sign for the Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam whilst panning past the buildings. The base was a recent co-operative effort by the US Air Force and Navy. Until recently it had been packed with thousands of personnel.
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