“Why do they want to use the infection, why not cure it?”
“Cure?” said Ford with a smile. “There is no cure. They can increase the time it takes to kill the host, increase the virulence, in some circumstances even give the infected person the ability to demonstrate some of the traits of the undead before finally succumbing to death and the normal zombification.”
“So what are we doing here?” asked Jonathan.
“That’s the right question,” said Ford, as he pressed a final button.
One of the guards stepped forward and handed him a dark object. The guard then pulled a mask out and placed it on his face. Ford opened his bag and did the same before turning to Jackson.
“What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously.
A bright flash came from the roof that forced the men to the ground in pain. It was followed by at least half a dozen shadows dropping from the ceiling to the ground.
Jackson rolled over, realising that this was probably a stun grenade of some kind. His MP7 was lying on the ground, just out of his reach. He pushed out as far as he could go but it wasn’t enough. A heavy boot kicked the weapon out of the way before rough hands lifted him up.
Jackson was surprised to see the men were two of Ford’s guards.
“What the fuck?” he shouted, his head still spinning.
Jonathan and Greg were up against the wall with their hands in the air. He turned his head, watching the group of armed men working their way around the warehouse. Jackson noticed them pressing an unmarked pad on each cubicle that revealed a keypad. A short flurry of presses opened the doors, revealing the patients that lay sleeping on their beds.
“Take them to the trucks,” ordered Ford.
“Ford, what are you doing?” shouted Jackson.
Ford continued moving through the building, ignoring the pleas from Jackson as he was taken from the warehouse. The sound of the battle had ceased outside to be replaced by the men shouting. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he spotted over a dozen dead soldiers in the compound and one truck was burning near the gate.
“They didn’t have to die!” shouted Jackson, as he and his two men were dragged to one of the waiting pickup trucks.
The three were thrown into the back and watched by four men, all wearing balaclavas and each armed with automatic weapons. Jonathan tried to get away and was hit with a rifle butt to the back of the head.
“Keep your head down, this won’t take long,” he said.
“Why are you doing this?” pleased Greg.
“Shut the fuck up. We’ve got our own plans for you, and them!” he said, as he pointed to the warehouse.
From the doorway the first of the wheeled trolleys was pushed out and towards the trucks. More trolleys appeared as the patients were removed from the facility. Another group of men in black tactical clothing were busy placing a series of what looked like demolition charges on the buildings.
“You’re gonna blow the place!” said Greg angrily.
“Why tie us up?” he added.
“Who do you think is gonna get the blame?” he said with a laugh.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NEW SOUTH WALES, AUSTRALIA
The chiefs had been sitting around for an hour now trying to think of a way to sort out the situation. Some of them wanted to drive in and attempt a roof rescue across hatches. Others thought this would lead to more vehicles being trapped.
“Give me the Beast, I’ll manage it,” said Jake.
The Beast was what they all lovingly referred to as the Land Train truck. The chiefs looked at Jake thoughtfully. Jake was a man the entire group trusted, he was a tough old boot, capable and reliable.
“You want to risk the only vehicle we have to tow the fuel?” asked Chris.
“I know it isn’t ideal, but it has enough torque to tear down a building, it’s the only one which has what it takes to get the job done,” said Jake.
The men sat around the table rubbed their chins and thought, but nobody spoke.
“Look, this is the only realistic and useful solution that has been presented. Unless there’s a majority objection, I’m going ahead, so either speak now or hold your tongues,” said Jake.
The chiefs still sat silent, not wanting to commit to a dangerous plan, but none wanting to condemn their friends either.
“Right, Wilson, get the trailers unhooked from the Beast, we leave in ten,” said Jake.
Ten minutes later Jake was strapping on his equipment beside the Beast. His granddaughter Amy was beside him. Still a teenager, she had shown herself to be as useful as her grandfather, being accurate with a rifle and cool headed. The trailers were now disconnected and Wilson walked around to join Jake.
“You don’t have to come, we can handle this,” said Jake.
“No way you’re taking my baby from me. Only one who drives this rig is me,” said Wilson.
Jake smiled, full well appreciating the man’s support.
“Right, mount up, let’s get going.”
They leapt into the big rig and Wilson fired up the 16.4 litre, 610hp diesel engine. The rumble of the engine was a reassuring sound to all aboard, knowing that no mass of zombies in the world would be able to stop them.
“So what’s the plan?” asked Wilson.
“Smash our way in, take the crew across the roofs, and then bug out,” said Jake.
“What about Road Hog?” asked Wilson.
“Nothing we can do about that, but it’s just a vehicle, we can find another, people are the priority,” said Jake.
“Okidoki,” said Wilson.
The rig driver pulled a chrome .44 revolver from the dashboard, opened the cylinder to check it was fully loaded, and then threw the cylinder shut and put it on the dash near the steering wheel. As the vehicle pulled away, the occupants could see the remaining survivors watching them drive off. The faces of those left behind were nothing but worry and sadness.
Back at the Hog, the crew of five was sitting at the dining table, eating chocolate and swilling cans of Solo Strong. They sat in a disturbingly calm state, all knowing they could do nothing but wait.
“Card game anyone?” asked Connor.
“Go for it,” said Bruce.
Connor got the deck out from a side drawer. It was heavily used, a common pastime when on the road for this crew. Bruce, being the leader of the group, was the most concerned as all the others would assume nothing less than a full rescue attempt by the group, but with him missing who knows what could happen.
“You know what we need, a helicopter,” said Connor.
“No shit, that’s really helpful,” said Dylan.
“Alright, alright! At least he’s staying positive!” said Bruce.
“And what if no one comes for us?” asked Dylan.
“Then we’ll improvise and overcome, we aren’t going to die here,” said Bruce.
“Nice to see someone is confident,” said Dylan.
“Yeah, what is the point in anything else? Be positive and we have a chance, be a miserable sad bastard and you may just die here,” said Bruce.
Dylan went silent, humiliated into shutting up. The more he thought about Bruce’s words, the more he actually agreed, perhaps they would get out. All around them was the ever droning sound of the zombie groans. Their vehicle swaying ever so slightly with the mass of creatures continually pushing and pulling at anything they could reach.
The cards were being handed out around the table when they heard a wrenching sound and then something break beside them. They quickly looked over, just in time to see glass shatter before them onto the carpet of the RV. The creatures had managed to break some of the mesh from a side window and had smashed the window. Hands reached up for the window frame and a creature was already pulling itself up and into the vehicle. Bruce drew his .45 and fired immediately, the beast tumbled back onto the horde below.
“Find something to seal the hole!” shouted Bruce.
Dylan drew his shotgun and Connor his hand crossbow
, whilst the other two ran to the back of the vehicle to find something. The window was fairly high on the side of the vehicle, which was at least fortunate, meaning the creatures were bottlenecked. Connor fired his weapon, the bolt slightly deflecting off the next creature’s inner nose bone and sliding into the eye socket. Blood dripped from the eye ball and socket as the body slumped back down.
“Gordon, get a fucking shift on!” shouted Bruce.
The three men fired, more frantically now, as the horde began to gain a stronger hold on their breach in the vehicle’s wall. Gordon was looking around everywhere, finally he grabbed hold of the door to Bruce’s bedroom, he pulled it hard, but the strong hinges were too much for him. Drake drew is hammer from his belt and smashed the hinges away from the wood they were attached to. Shots rang out behind him as once again Bruce’s pistol was empty.
The two men ran back to the breach of the RV to see Dylan fire both barrels in quick succession, clearing the way.
“Out the way!” shouted Gordon.
The defenders moved back as the two with the door ran into place and shoved it into position. Before they could get it flush with the window frame a zombie got its fingers through. Bruce immediately drew his machete and cut down against them, severing three. The door went flush against the frame and the two men put their bodyweight against it to keep it in place.
“Get anything you can to wedge this in and strengthen it!” said Bruce.
Following Gordon’s example Connor smashed the door off the toilet and shower room, and ran back to place it in front of the current blockage for extra strength. Bruce ripped the table from the seating area and wedged it between the doors at the seats opposite, it held them in place. The rest of the men began piling things around the barricade.
“Right, that should hold for at least a while, but I bloody hope we get some help soon,” said Bruce.
They looked back at where they’d had been sitting, their playing cards scattered across the floor, most of the cushions taken and used in the barricade. This was a dire situation, their vehicle’s defences were compromised and they had nowhere left to play. Bruce sat down on the floor against a sidewall.
“Make sure all your weapons are loaded and in order, and you’re ready to go at a second’s notice. Either someone comes to our rescue, or we have to fight our way out of here on foot,” said Bruce.
“That’s suicide!” said Dylan.
“No, suicide is staying in here once our last defence is finally breeched, I’d rather have a chance getting through that crowd than to be trapped in here. Anyway, it’s a last resort,” said Bruce.
The other men relaxed, resting against cupboards or sitting down. Each of them checked their weapons and ammunition and got everything ready. The horde outside continually tested their defences, trying to break anything they could. All of the crew knew that they probably had an hour left of safety at the most. Over the groans of the creatures outside, Bruce suddenly noticed the sound of something rather more industrial.
“Listen, can you hear that?” shouted Bruce.
“What?” asked Connor.
“Just listen, sounds like a vehicle,” said Bruce.
They all stood and listened intently, the noise was getting louder and louder. Bruce went to the back of the vehicle and peered out of the barred window in his bedroom. The creatures at the back of the crowd were already beginning to turn around and pay attention. This could only be a good thing.
“Alright boys, this could be our way out. Make sure you’re ready, get the ladder in position, we’ll be going out the roof,” said Bruce.
He looked back to see the Beast storm into view five hundred yards ahead, the sheer size and power of the thing overcame him with joy.
“It’s the Beast!” Bruce shouted.
They all cheered, delighted at the fact that their fellow survivors had not forgotten them. The huge Road Train truck hit the first few zombies, it passed through them as if they were paper, their bodies crumpling and being thrown aside. The Beast had the characteristic huge chrome bars across the front, taller than a man, though dulled and dirty now from a year of travel.
A hundred yards later the monstrous truck hit the dense horde, the initial twenty zombies were crushed against the ones in front of them. The huge roo bars of the vehicle ploughed a channel through the bloody mess, as Moses parted the sea. No doubt the stricken crew of the Hog saw this monster as their saviour in such a hopeless situation.
Bruce was astonished about the nerve and initiative shown by his fellow survivors. He’d become the leader of the group quite naturally, by showing the most leadership. It always concerned him then when the responsibility fell on someone else’s shoulders. Bruce had always had to trust other people to work alongside him, but trusting others to be in charge when his life was at stake was a totally different matter.
The Beast was smashing its way ever closer to the Hog, but the weight and mass of the horde being crushed against them forced the RV flat against the shop and was beginning to buckle parts of the vehicle. Finally, the truck drew to a stop in parallel with the Hog and just a few feet away. The horde immediately re-established their position around the two vehicles, flooding them. The high sides were too much for the zombies to overcome, but some were already attempting to climb onto the footsteps and bonnet of the Beast.
“Get up on the roof, now!” shouted Bruce.
Dylan got up on the ladder and swung the roof hatch open and he climbed out onto the flat top. He looked across to see the hatch of the Beast opening on top of the caravan body that had been retrofitted to the frame. Jake clambered out onto the roof, followed by Amy. Jake pulled out a ladder from the hatch and swung it across onto the roof of the Hog forming a causeway.
Bruce was the last one up onto the roof of the Hog, Dylan and Connor were up on top, whilst the other two were already safely across and jumping down the hatch. Amy racked the lever of her Winchester and fired at a zombie trying to clamber from the bonnet onto the roof. It collapsed onto its back on the bonnet.
“Come on!” shouted Jake.
“Connor, get your arse over there!” shouted Bruce.
Connor made his way slowly across the ladder, whilst Bruce spotted a zombie beating on the driver’s door of the Beast. He drew his colt and took careful aim with both hands, firing at the back of the knee. The shot caused the creature’s leg to fail and its body tumbled back into the crowd.
“Dylan, go!” shouted Bruce.
Amy continued to fire carefully aimed shots at the zombies attempting to clamber up from the front of the vehicle. Bruce holstered his pistol and got onto the ladder, he ran across it, not wanting to stop or lose balance. He stumbled clumsily over onto the roof of the Beast, Jake taking his arm to help him the last part.
“You’re a life saver!” shouted Bruce.
“Yet again, now get your arse inside!” shouted Jake.
Dylan was making his way down the roof hatch as Jake picked up the ladder and passed it on down with him.
“Amy, honey, time to go!” shouted Jake.
The girl had a zombie in sight that had got up onto the bonnet and was climbing onto the roof, she pulled the trigger, but only heard a click, the rifle was empty. She quickly moved back to the hatch, Jake helping her in. Bruce raised his pistol and fired a shot into the skull of the beast, killing it instantly. Jake was clambering down the hatch.
“Bruce, let’s go!” shouted Jake.
Bruce moved to the hatch but looked up one last time at the Hog, which had been his home for almost a year. It was a sad day, to have had to leave everything behind once again. Looking to the front of the vehicle, more creatures were already making their way up towards the roof.
“Bruce, come on!” shouted Dylan.
He put his legs in through the hatch and dropped in, pulling the hatch over behind him and clamping it down.
“Let’s get this thing moving!” shouted Bruce.
“Wilson! Get going!” shouted Jake.
Th
e throaty engine roared as Wilson put some power down, the powerhouse of a vehicle lurched forward, feeling like it was pulling a heavy load due to the mass before it, but nothing would stop it moving. The huge chrome bars pushed their way through the massive horde for a few minutes until they were finally free. Wilson got a few hundred yards up the road when he swung wide, and stopped, turning the monster around, now facing the horde once more.
“What are you doing?” asked Jake.
“That ain’t the way we want to be going. This is, and I’ll be damned if those bastards will stop me!” shouted Wilson.
Wilson again put the power down, this time with nothing to stop him gaining speed. The truck roared back towards the horde, reaching a good steady speed.
“Fuck you all!” screamed Wilson.
They hit the crowd, the occupants feeling a jolt as the speed was reduced but not stopped. Blood spewed up across the windscreen and bodies crumpled and were knocked aside. They were again trawling through the massive horde. Moments later they broke free, and Bruce looked out the back window to see the result of their work. The killing streak of the Beast was barely noticeable now as the horde simply merged again, shambling towards them as they drove off into the distance. Bruce looked back at Jake, grabbed his hand and shook it.
“You’re a true gent,” said Bruce.
“No worries, mate,” said Jake.
“That goes for your girl and that crazy bitch up front too,” said Bruce.
The crew lay back on the seating that was available, truly relieved.
“How many did we lose?” asked Bruce.
“Just Walter,” said Jake.
“We all knew he’d screw up at some point, and it only cost him his own life,” said Bruce.
“Yes, but that was still one too many.”
“True,” said Bruce.
It felt like an age to get back to the rest of the convoy. All of the men were still wearing their full equipment and were sitting in the hot trailer, the open windows providing very little fresh air. Finally they reached the encampment where all of the survivors were gathered to greet then, having seen the huge truck coming from miles away.
Zombie Dawn Exodus Page 17
