She turns on the road, seeing the rifle go from Tyson to Patrick then Patrick turning and the weapon sailing over the heads of everyone else. She runs in to catch the wooden framed ten magazine bolt-action Lee Enfield 303 rifle, yanking the metal lever back as she spins to face the van with the rifle butt braced in her shoulder.
‘DOWN BLONDIE!’
Lilly ducks left, firing as she goes. Kyle shouting out as his pistols click empty. Mary sights, tracking the teenage girl in the lead of the small horde, streaking out ahead of them all. A sharp crack and the rifle bucks with a round sent whizzing a few inches past Lilly’s head to slam into the teenage girl, sending her spinning off to the side and Mary yanks the bolt back, aiming again. Her face a mask of calm focus. Another shot and she takes the next one in the lead down as Lilly switches from single shot to auto and burst fires to hit targets. Seeing them closing the distance towards the beach. She hits several, not kill shots but enough to buy time.
‘RE-LOADING,’ Kyle shouts. Joan and everyone else still trying to get through. Mary shooting fast with every round taking one down.
‘EMPTY,’ Lilly’s rifle clicks, she slings it back and draws her pistol, bringing it up in a double handed grip as she strides in towards the incoming attackers. Firing single shots. Sighting each target.
‘STAY STRAIGHT BLONDIE,’ Mary yells out and Lilly feels the displacement of air beside her head as Mary shoots them down. The last two coming. A big male. An old woman. Mary takes the old woman out as Lilly fires her pistol into the male, the rounds hitting his chest and doing nothing at all. Mary yanks the bolt, aiming again as Lilly fires but the big man comes in hard and fast. Kyle gets one pistol re-loaded, Mary sights, Lilly aims and all three fire, pouring rounds into the solid dense body until Mary’s larger calibre bullet takes the back of his head off and he finally drops to slide along the road, a spray of hot blood splatting across Lilly’s face who doesn’t flinch once as she tracks the body until it stops at her feet.
A few seconds from start to finish and it’s done. Over. Bodies lying dead and the man that drove in now shot and killed.
‘CEASEFIRE,’ Kyle yells, his guns held out in front. Ears ringing. Chests heaving. Joan finally gets to the road. Sam, Pea and the others the same. Every gun aiming in. A hiss from an infected woman rolling over and pushing up to her feet.
‘BACK,’ Kyle shouts. Firing once into her chest. ‘BACK YE HEATHEN…BACK TO THE DARKNESS…’ he fires again, slamming her into the van. ‘THIS IS NO PLACE FOR YOUR KIND…’
The last shot comes from behind. A sharp crack of an assault rifle and the woman’s head blows out, killing her instantly.
Norman blinks, his head spinning at the speed it all just happened. He looks to the dead bodies on the road. Blood everywhere. A metallic tang in the air mixed with diesel fumes. A glance behind him, looking to see who fired the last shot, expecting it to be Pea or Sam, maybe Joan or one of the lads from the camp. A glance and no more and he faces forward only to double-take at what his eyes saw that his brain took time to process.
Men with guns behind him. He spins to face them, his heart lurching again. A man with a police issue assault rifle braced in his shoulder. Another man standing next to him with a rifle. Another slightly behind them with a shotgun. Not men from the fort or the camp. Dark skinned men with beards dressed in loose fitting trousers and robe style tops. Their style, appearance and dress giving instant recognition as Muslims. All of them gathered about an executive style mini-bus with blacked out privacy windows that was waiting in the line to be processed.
A blink of an eye. A beat of a heart and he sees the figures in burkas at the side of the mini-bus. People covered from head to toe in black robes with only a mesh screen to see out from.
Patrick sees them next from the motion in his peripheral vision. A glance over. His own heart racing. ‘SHIT!’ he yells out, seeing the Muslim men with guns and the black-robed figures hidden within the burkas. Everything on instinct. Everything happening so fast and he turns to aim his assault rifle, yelling loudly. ‘BEHIND US…’
Lilly spins on the spot, seeing the new threat, seeing men with guns behind them but her eyes fix on the figures in black robes. Their eyes hidden and she moves quickly, striding across the road while ejecting her pistol magazine and slamming a new one in.
Mary turns as Lilly brushes past, her rifle still in her shoulder as she too sights the new threat and goes forward, keeping pace at Lilly’s side. The two women aiming hard. Kyle moving behind them. His pistols up and raised. Joan striding in, her own gun up and ready. Sam and Pea swivelling on the spot.
A chain reaction of events. Everyone turning to aim at the men from the mini-bus and they, in turn, aim back, yelling at each other in a language no one else can understand. The figures in burkas causing as much fear as the men with guns. Their faces covered. Their eyes hidden.
‘GUNS DOWN,’ Patrick yells.
‘PUT THEM FUCKING GUNS DOWN,’ Tyson’s voice.
‘CAN’T SEE THEIR EYES,’ Mary shouts. ‘THEM IN THE ROBES…CAN’T SEE THEIR EYES…’
Norman’s heart whumps in his chest. His mind processing the fractional changes as the situation plays out.
‘EYES,’ someone else shouts.
‘INFECTED…THEY’RE INFECTED…’ another voice.
The tension ramps. The men at the mini-bus bristling with fear and worry, shouting at each other in a rapid-fire language. Female voices heard crying out from those within the burkas as they shield children with their bodies.
Lilly moves in. Unwavering in her intent. Ruthless, brutal and ready to kill. ‘I WILL SHOOT YOU ALL. SHOW ME YOUR EYES…’
‘DO WHAT SHE SAYS,’ Mary shouts, keeping pace at Lilly’s side. Kyle next to them. The air thick with fear-loaded aggression coursing through all of them. Everyone shouting. Pushing it to the brink. Pea’s heart racing in her chest. Sam’s face etched with something between deep angst and determination to hold the line and do what must be done.
‘EVERYONE CLEAR BACK NOW,’ Joan shouts, ordering the others away onto the beach.
‘I SWEAR IT,’ Lilly shouts, her own face spattered with glistening blood. ‘EYES…SHOW ME YOUR EYES OR I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU ALL…’
‘Mummy!’ A voice screaming out. A child. A boy. Ten or eleven years old at most. Slight build. A mop of dark hair on his head as he clings to a figure in a burka. His tear-streaked face etched with tears. He tries reaching for her head covering as she panics and grabs at his hands. Everyone shouting. Men and women calling to Allah. Men and women praying to whatever gods they hold dear. Children screaming in fear and right then, at that second, the click of a safety switch being taken off by a trembling hand brings them all to the point of death where many will die and the road will run red with blood spilled as both sides prepare to kill and be killed.
Norman can see it will happen as though it is foretold and will not be stopped and in that second, so his mind finally runs clear. The adrenalin ridding the fug within his mind. Giving him his voice. ‘DO NOT SHOOT,’ he bellows out. The voice of a man used to gaining attention from juries in courts across the country. ‘DO NOT SHOOT…DO NOT SHOOT…’
‘Mummy,’ the boy cries, still tugging at her head robe. ‘Show them…please!’ She grabs his hands, caught up in panic. Her mind not processing it all fast enough and the boy turns, screaming out. ‘Don’t kill my mummy…don’t kill my mummy…’
‘DO NOT SHOOT…’ Norman yells. Fingers pressing on triggers. This will happen. It has to happen. The fear is too great. The pressure too high. He has to stop it. He has to find the words to give in this single second. ‘THEY’RE JUST PEOPLE…’
‘I WILL SEE THEIR FACES,’ Lilly shouts back. ‘OR THEY WILL BE SHOT…’
‘Do not shoot them,’ Norman says. ‘You, please…lower your guns,’ he pleads to the men by the mini-bus, waving his arm to make them understand.
‘SHOW ME YOUR FACES…’ Lilly shouts.
‘Mummy, show them…please…’ the boy
cries out. The moment poised on a knife-edge. Snatches of words in a foreign language as the men shout to each other. Confusion and fear in their faces.
‘Don’t shoot,’ Ann says, rushing into the road. ‘Just wait…all of you…just wait…’
‘They were helping us,’ Norman adds, the words rushing out. ‘That man,’ he points to the closest, the one holding the assault rifle. ‘He shot the infected woman…not us…they weren’t aiming at us…’
‘EYES,’ Lilly shouts. Heedless to anything else.
‘It shows in the eyes,’ Ann calls out, turning to the men and women at the mini-bus. ‘The infection…it shows in the eyes…’
‘Eyes,’ Norman shouts, pointing at his own face. ‘We have to see your eyes…’
‘Lilly, in the tent,’ Ann says. ‘We can take the women to the tent…they’re Muslims. They can’t be seen by men.’
‘No. Not an option. Here. Now. One step in any direction and I will shoot…’
Kyle holds still, wishing he were a leader like Henry with words to give and a mind fast enough to think ahead. He swallows, sucking air into his lungs, forcing a calm tone. ‘We respect your faith and your beliefs…this isn’t about that…this is survival…we have to see your eyes…’
One of the men speaks out. His language rushed and filled with worry. A rustle among the figures in the robes. The men stiffening. Everyone else bristling as that tension surges back up, the air thick and charged. Sweat pouring down faces and the knuckles of the hands holding the guns grow white.
‘Mummy,’ the boy turns back, reaching up to her head. ‘Please…’ pleading in his tone. Sudden motion from his mother. A movement that makes everyone yell out as she looks through the mesh to her son, to his face so sweet and innocent, to his pleading voice and she lowers her head, stooping so his hands can grip the hem of the material. She drops lower then slowly pulls back and rises. Her face feeling the coolness of being free from the confines of the burka. The sun too bright and so she squeezes her eyes closed, bringing a hand up to shield her vision as the silence stretches on. Tense, hard and with every finger ready to give death.
She blinks and lowers the hand showing black hair wet to her scalp with sweat. An open dignified face etched with fear as she looks at Lilly. ‘I am not infected,’ she says, her voice accented but clear. She turns her head to the women about her. ‘Show your eyes…’
Rustling fills the air. Material being drawn overhead to show faces glistening with sweat. Women old and young and as their ages come to be seen, so everyone can see the older women were shielding the younger. ‘We are not infected,’ the woman says, her arms about her son, holding him close. ‘Ameer, tell your uncles to lower their weapons. There has been enough death today…’ she looks to her son then up and out to Norman, to Mary, to all of them in turn and finally to Lilly. ‘I am sorry to cause you fear…we heard this is a safe place. We will leave…’
Lilly exhales slowly, lowering her pistol as she looks behind to the corpses and the red van. She holsters the weapon and takes a fresh magazine from a side pocket in her cargo trousers and swaps it over in her rifle. Loaded. Made ready. Safety on.
‘Welcome to the fort. My name is Lilly. We have food, medicine and we’ll give you what protection we can. Your guns will be placed in our armoury. You can take them out if you leave. Your faces must remain uncovered when you are in the fort…Norman and Ann will deal with you from here.’ She turns away, plucking the radio from her belt as she goes. ‘Lenski, it’s Lilly. Everything is fine here. A minor incident that is now dealt with…’ she listens to the reply then pauses to look back at everyone on the beach and road. ‘Back to work please…’
Mary blinks at the people in robes and the men with them. At the sudden lessening of the tension in the air. Everyone’s limbs trembling from the come down. She spots Lilly walking away and goes after her, finding her own legs feeling somewhat funny.
‘Blondie,’ she calls, her voice now a bit quieter. Lilly turns to look at her, staring into Mary’s green eyes as the gypsy girl comes to a stop, caught out by the icy cold gaze. ‘Er, you got some blood on you,’ she says, motioning her own face.
Lilly doesn’t reply but pulls a packet of anti-bac wet-wipes from a pocket, gets one free and starts rubbing at her cheeks, smearing blood further up her face.
‘Ach no, you’re missing it…’ Mary says, ‘here, let me…’ she takes the wipe, noticing how her own hands tremble while Lilly’s remain completely still. ‘Bit exciting eh,’ she says, reaching out to start wiping Lilly’s face. Her skin golden and tanned.
‘I guess so,’ Lilly says. ‘You want to ask me if you can be a guard now?’
‘Right, yes, that’s exactly what I was going to ask,’ Mary says, blinking at Lilly as she pulls another wipe free to clean her face more. ‘Close your eyes now, got some on your eyebrow…you don’t want the anti-bac chemicals in your eyes now do you…’
‘Thank you,’ Lilly says politely, closing her eyes. ‘And thank you for what you did just then.’
‘No bother,’ Mary says. ‘Okay, all done…give me your hands now. I’ll give them a wipe too.’
‘I can do my own hands,’ Lilly says.
‘Aye, and this blood is dirty so maybe we can both do it and reduce the risk,’ Mary says, taking Lilly’s hand as Lilly watches her. Seeing there is an intelligence and seriousness hidden behind the young woman’s humour. ‘Uncle Pete said you’re immune like us, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is…’
‘Of course not,’ Lilly says.
‘I don’t want to just be cooking in the camp and making babies, Lilly. I can shoot and I can fight…’
‘It’s fine. I’m happy for you to be a guard, however, I do not want to annoy Peter.’
‘Uncle Pete will be fine with it. I promise,’ Mary says.
‘Can you fire a pistol?’
‘Aye. Can. Right, you’re all done,’ she says, letting go of Lilly’s hands.
‘Thank you. Speak to Joan, but people on my team wake first, eat last and work hard,’ she says, staring into Mary’s eyes again. Holding her entranced and silent. ‘We do whatever it takes to get the work done. That’s the deal. If you work in my team then we all jump in.’
Mary nods, swallowing as she listens. ‘Right. Will do. I piss about a bit, like crack jokes and stuff. Is that okay?’
‘It’s fine,’ Lilly says, offering a rare smile as a digger rolls past that starts scooping up human forms to take away and burn. The sounds of squishes and bones snapping sounding clear in the air, sending some people moving away as others carry on as though nothing is happening.
‘Ach, that’s great,’ Mary says. ‘You’ve a lovely smile you have, Blondie…’
‘Mary! I’ll be having my rifle back,’ Tyson says, walking over as Lilly nods politely and goes on about her business.
‘I don’t know what rifle you mean there, Tyson.’
‘My bloody rifle in your bloody hands, Mary. It was my Grandfather’s rifle.’
‘You dumb shit, he was my Grandfather too…now what we doing with them cats?’
Chapter Nine
Day Twenty Two
Lenski kneels on the shore outside the gates, shielding her eyes as she stares across the water to the bay and the figures all holding still on the road. Donald standing nearby. Her own weapon heavy in her arms.
She ran as soon as she heard the first shot. Sprinting from the offices to the armoury to grab a rifle, loading it quickly and taking spare magazines before sprinting back across the fort. Everyone calling out in alarm at the popping sounds of gunfire coming so clearly across the water.
Now she waits. Wondering why the people on the beach aren’t fleeing for the boats, wondering what’s happening.
‘Lenski, it’s Lilly. Everything is fine here. A minor incident that is now dealt with…’
‘Ask her what happened,’ Donald says.
‘Lilly, is Lenski. That is understood…’ she says simply. Detecting the hard edge in Lilly
’s voice and figuring it doesn’t really matter what just happened because things are happening every half an hour and if you worry about what just happened you’ll lose focus on what is happening now. At least that’s how Lenski sees it.
She heads back in and comes to a dead stop at the sight greeting her. A crowd of people waiting grim-faced and silent.
John and Pardip in front of everyone else. John holding a big metal pipe. Pardip clutching a sledgehammer. Others behind them. Simar, Jaspal and Steve the plumber. More workers from John’s section holding heavy things to hit with and sharp things to stab with and Lenski blinks at the sight of Agatha clutching a huge rolling pin. Sunnie standing next to her with a heavy metal ladle. Colin between them holding a tent pole looking terrified to the core but she can see they are prepared to fight and hold the line.
‘They alright over there, babs?’ Pardip asks, his voice breaking the silence.
Lenski nods, caught out by the sight of them all. ‘Yes, Lilly say is minor incident…’
‘Right…er…back to work then I suppose…’ Pardip says.
‘We’d have given ‘em what for,’ Agatha says, patting the rolling pin against her leg while striding off with Sunnie. ‘Rotters think they can get in here now…’
To the armoury and Lenski unloads her rifle, stacks it away and heads back to the office, deep in thought of many things and walks in to grab her clipboard. Adding train fort defence force (speak to Lilly) to the ever-growing list of things-to-do.
‘Lenski,’ Jaspal leans in through the door, bracing his weight on the doorframe. ‘Sorry, I know you’re busy…Par and John reckon they’ve found the place to put Agatha’s cooking section up…they want to run it past you.’
‘Yes. I come,’ she says, trying to think of a hundred different things at once. ‘Where is Pamela?’ she calls.
‘I don’t know who that is,’ Jaspal says as he pushes off to go back.
‘Is fat woman,’ Lenski shouts after him. ‘Has big chins…big belly and…’ she trails off, spotting another larger built lady in the new arrivals glaring at her. ‘Pamela is fatter than you. Wait please. I come back…’
The Undead (Book 23): The Fort Page 12
