by Chris Harris
As we approached the first house, Shawn positioned the trailer so that any zombie that approached the front door could easily be speared as it went by. Simon led the way with the four soldiers, checking and clearing the house of its family of zombie occupants. They’d been trapped in the lounge. It wasn’t clear who had turned first but all that remained of the little girl was her head. After dealing with her parents, who were still feeding on the carcass of her older brother, Simon respectfully placed a blanket over all their remains and shut the door. They’d all known the family.
We used bin liners as carrier bags and hurriedly filled them with as many baby items as we could find. We soon had four bin bags’ worth of nappies, sterilising tablets, bottles, baby food and baby clothes. With no other zombies in sight, we took the time to search and strip the house of anything else that might prove useful. We quickly emptied the kitchen cupboards and the pantry of any food. It proved to us that as long as we could avoid zombies, getting supplies wasn’t going to be a problem.
Every house in the country would yield a certain amount of food if we were desperate. The supplies we already had would see us through the next few days so we weren’t too worried about it yet, but if it was readily available, it seemed sensible to grab what we could. We could carry a lot of supplies in the trailer.
We hadn’t yet had a serious discussion about the best place to get any supplies we needed. Food was obviously our primary concern, but most members of the group only possessed the clothes they stood up in, so as daft as it might seem, we’d probably have to fit in a visit to a clothes shop soon as well.
It had been a while since Stanley and Daisy had used baby milk or nappies so I was a bit out of practice, but I knew the few boxes of milk and packs of nappies we had found should last a six month old for quite a few days. We agreed that we had enough for the time being and should get back to the roof so that we could give Sarah the milk she so desperately needed.
On the journey back I was relieved to find that there seemed to be fewer zombies around. We’d killed a lot of them on our initial journey through the base and every time we drove through in the tractor more of them were destroyed, either by being run over or stabbed. The base was relatively isolated and we thought it likely that the zombies we’d encountered so far had been from the local village. Hopefully the base would remain off the beaten track for zombies for the time being and receive little attention from any from further afield. I knew this situation wouldn’t last but was grateful for the temporary relief it offered us.
Half an hour later Sarah, full of milk and with a small but hearty belch, fell into a deep sleep. Maud made a cosy bed for her under a tarpaulin shelter which had been quickly and expertly erected by Shawn and Dave. Without even thinking, we all started talking in whispers, casting guilty glances at her if we happened to make too much noise. None of us wanted to be the one who woke her up.
The day was getting on and everyone was exhausted from another day of fighting for our survival. Realising that it was far too late to even contemplate leaving our secure location on the roof, we began to set up camp for the night.
Simon and Dave wanted to return to the armoury so that they could empty it of anything useful. As there were fewer zombies milling around now, they decided to set off straight away. Before that, we formed a chain and passed everything we would need for the night up out of the trailer, in order to make the camp as comfortable as possible. We left a group behind to organise the camp and the rest of us climbed down into the trailer.
All the people who’d been on the previous mission to find baby food had volunteered to come along. The silent bonds of comradeship were already binding us together as a group. We all assumed our previous positions around the edge of the trailer, already feeling like veterans.
After a few minutes of dealing with the zombies who’d begun to converge around the trailer, clawing at its corrugated steel sides with tedious tenacity, there were no more within reach. Shawn started up the tractor and we ploughed through some stragglers that were trying to block his path. The area around our building was beginning to resemble a medieval battlefield. The ground was strewn with broken bodies and body parts. Many had been crushed flat having been driven over on numerous occasions.
The air was thick with flies and although the smell of decay wasn’t overpowering yet, it wouldn’t take long for the summer sun to change that. That in itself was a good enough reason for us to leave as soon as possible.
The trailer rocked slightly as the large all-terrain tyres rolled over the corpses. As Shawn already knew the way to the armoury, he made straight for it, weaving as he steered the tractor towards as many zombies as he could, to enable us to kill them. We wanted to prevent them from collecting together in packs. That was when they were at their most dangerous. And of course Shawn’s mantra about killing as many as we could made sense.
The armoury was a small squat building set back from the other buildings on the base. There were few zombies in the immediate area but there were still plenty following us, advancing steadily.
Feeling reasonably secure, we all stepped cautiously down from the trailer. Half of us stayed outside on guard duty, keeping a careful eye on the approaching zombies. Simon and the others made their way inside so that they could retrieve whatever remained. He’d already admitted that there wasn’t much left so it was unlikely to take long.
As we watched the zombies getting closer, Chet mentioned that he’d never fired a .22 rifle before, and asked if he could take a few shots at them to familiarise himself with the weapon. Shawn added that he wouldn’t mind having a go with Ben’s rifle, an SA80, so that he too would be familiar with it.
We told Simon what we were going to do, (we didn’t want him being alarmed by any sudden shots) and let the group on the roof know using the walkie-talkie. As the zombies continued to move closer, Dave offered to show them both how to use the weapons.
Firing from a standing position proved difficult for them and it took quite a few shots for their first targets to fall. The heavier shot from the SA80 caused considerable damage in the case of bodyshots but the light .22 bullets barely seemed to affect them at all. Only a headshot took them out immediately.
Dave stood beside them and said to no one in particular: ‘This is the fucking problem and why we all ran out of ammunition in the first place. It’s bloody hard to get a headshot from any distance if you’re just in the standing position and not steadying the gun against something. It’s even worse if you’re running and turning to fire. Then it’s down to luck. We’ve been trained to shoot centre mass. Those fancy headshots you see in the movies are virtually impossible. In most of the fights I’ve been in, the amount of ammunition expended per kill is massive, and these fuckers just don’t die easily.’
He shook his head in frustration. ‘I hate to say it, but out in the field, unless we have complete superiority of firepower and a lot of ammunition, we’re going to be screwed. In a perfect world and from a nice comfy secure location, any marine should be able to get headshots all day long. But facing a horde of those fucking flesh- eating bastards… well, even the ‘ice men’ among us are going to be a bit shaky. We need to get some new tactics sorted.’
About ten zombies were closing in on us, now only twenty metres away.
I glanced at Shawn, who was becoming increasingly frustrated at how hard it was to kill them. As the range decreased the kill rate was going up, but it was still taking quite a few shots to kill each one. Many of them had taken bullets to their arms and legs. Some of them were thrashing frantically about on the ground while others were still crawling like insects towards us.
‘Fuck me,’ he shouted, exasperated. ‘It was easier with the crossbow!’
‘What do you reckon Shawn, shall we do this the old fashioned way?’ I said, drawing my knife out of its sheath.
He looked at me and then at the zombies, who were snarling and stretching their arms out in anticipation. In answer, he grinned, slung his new rif
le over his back and unsheathed his knife.
‘Everyone watch our backs!’ I yelled as we stepped forward. While one of us struck out at the nearest zombie, the other one stood close by to protect him. Whenever there were two close together, we both attacked.
I felt strangely confident and for the first time I was thinking clearly. We knew more about them now, and providing there weren’t too many of them, they were reasonably easy to kill. I trusted Shawn to watch my back and I knew he felt the same about me. We worked our way methodically through them, dodging outstretched arms and occasionally kicking one away to give ourselves room to deliver that fatal thrust. I felt as if I was standing outside of myself, watching with calm detachment.
Whenever we’d had to fight zombies before, I’d been utterly terrified. We’d been fighting because we had no other choice, because they’d surrounded us and our only option had been to counter-attack. This time was different. We could have climbed back into the trailer and killed them at a safe distance with the spears. But I knew that what we were doing was an important demonstration to the others of what could be achieved against the zombies. About how we could fight them on our own terms, offensively and not just defensively.
As we fought, those thoughts passed through my mind like lightning. Granted, neither Chet nor Shawn had been familiar enough with their new guns, but still, we’d destroyed more zombies in less time just using our knives. A knife didn’t jam or run out of ammunition.
We finished up by dispatching the ones lying closest to us who were still alive and still trying to reach us despite their horrific gunshot wounds. Dave walked up to us, awe struck.
He slapped us both on the back. ‘Fuck me! Simon told me for civvies you were hard motherfuckers, but man, that was like watching an episode of ‘The Walking Dead’! I’m going to have to get myself a better knife. I just don’t think my bayonet’s big enough. Let’s face it, when the bullets run out that’s all we’re going to have.’
We walked back to the trailer and everyone crowded round, congratulating us. The others were still bringing the last few armfuls of stuff out of the armoury. The pile on the floor didn’t look very impressive at all.
‘Is that it?’ Chet asked, taken aback.
Simon shrugged. ‘I told you there wasn’t much left after the base commander loaded up the lorries and went off to the rescue. We’re mainly a training base, not a firing range, so we didn’t have much in the way of ammunition or spare weapons to start with.’
He thought for a moment. ‘I suppose I never really thought about it. My job was to make sure that the men in my unit had enough ammunition for whatever task they were carrying out and that their weapons were in good order. On active service you carried as much as you could and if you expended it, there was always more to be had, but back home, apart from the firing ranges, you just had your basic ammo load. The amount available was never an issue because apart from the ranges you never had to use any. There must be warehouses full of it somewhere, but I’m buggered if I know where.’
The pile consisted of five metal ammunition cans. Each one was stamped to show that it contained one thousand rounds. There were various other boxes containing different calibre bullets, a small pile of tactical vests and some pistols in holsters. Two shotguns leant up against it all. It wasn’t a very impressive haul, but then again, it was more than we’d had ten minutes before.
Dave spoke up. ‘As I said before, there’ll be a few places around the base and there are plenty of weapons on the ground around here so we can pick those up. But if the whole country’s been affected in the same way there won’t be enough guns or ammunition to make much of a difference. We can’t fight them all so we’re going to have to get to this castle and see if it’s as good as you say it is. As long as we’ve got enough weapons to clear that place out when we get there what else do we need?’
‘You know me Dave,’ said Simon, frowning, ‘I can never have enough ammunition if I’m going out there. Those crazy bastards next to you might prefer using their knives up close and personal, but until I run out of bullets, I plan to keep my distance from those flesh-eating fuckers.’
Dave looked at Simon, smiled and whispered loudly, ‘Pussy!’
Simon laughed. ‘Absolutely mate. How else am I going to stay alive? My foolproof plan is to hang back and for once in my life, let you do the work. I’ve been carrying you for years.’
Their good humoured banter calmed things down. With nothing else to be had from the armoury, we quickly loaded up the trailer with our bounty and headed back to the roof, killing as many zombies as we could on the way.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
On the roof we were greeted by delicious smells from the camping stoves Maud had set up.
Once again, using only the limited supplies we had available, she’d managed to conjure up an excellent meal. She waved off our attempts to thank her, simply saying, ‘I told you I’ll never be any good at fighting them but I’m damn sure no-one’s going hungry in the meantime. And I can look after all the children. I always wanted to be a Grandma. Richard was too selfish to want children…’
It didn’t matter who you were. You could always make a difference. Maud’s contribution made the group stronger. I’d also seen her in action and if it came to it, I was pretty sure she’d fight like a lioness protecting her cubs.
With twenty one of us on the roof that night, a new problem came to light.
Where could we go to the toilet?
‘Number ones’ were easy. The men stood at the roof’s edge and gleefully used the zombies as target practice. The women had been using a bucket and then pouring it over the edge. But ‘number twos’ were a different matter!
Dave explained that due to the lack of food and water prior to our arrival, going to the toilet hadn’t really been an issue. But now everyone had full stomachs and bladders and we needed to come up with a solution quickly to save people’s modesty.
I stamped my foot on the roof. It sounded like it was made from timber and felt. ‘Shawn, let’s get the petrol saw out of the trailer. I’ve got an idea.’
Five minutes later, in a corner of the building, I’d cut a small hole in the roof, exposing the room below. Using some spare lengths of timber we had and a sheet, Shawn and I knocked up a screen and placed a roll of toilet paper by the entrance. Proudly, we announced that the toilet was now open.
The queue that hastily formed showed that we’d built it just in time!
With everyone now feeling much more comfortable, we sat around in the fading light and planned for the day ahead. At first light Simon and Dave would take a quick trip around the barracks and try to collect as much ammunition as they could. They’d also gather up as many abandoned weapons as possible, if necessary taking them from the dead.
Shawn kept impressing upon us the need to gather supplies at all times. As he pointed out, you never knew when the next opportunity might arise, so we decided to visit the small general stores on the base and empty it of anything useful.
Fuel was our next pressing concern. We’d refilled the tanks of the tractor and the Volvo from the containers of fuel we’d brought from the farm and we still had some left. Simon and Dave told us that there was a large above ground diesel tank in the vehicle maintenance yard from which we could at least refill our empty containers. If we found any more containers we could bring more back with us.
The route was easy to plan. We would travel up the A38 until it joined the M5 motorway and then follow it north to our destination. By good fortune, all the places we needed to visit to try to rescue family members were virtually on our route.
Shawn for instance, had lived in Bristol. Even though he had no close family members there he wanted to see if any of his friends had made it. He explained that they were all preppers like himself and would make valuable additions to our group.
Louise’s family lived on the outskirts of Cheltenham and Steve Popley’s family lived outside the centre of Worcester. Using a map we were q
uickly able to identify their locations.
Although devastated, Noah, Daniel and Aggi quickly acknowledged that it would be impossible to rescue their families, all of whom lived in Central London. As far as we knew, the outbreak had started there and therefore the streets of the capital would be swarming with millions of zombies. We were nervous enough about the rescue attempts we were going to make in Bristol, Cheltenham and Worcester but these were all places with much smaller populations. As a group, we’d already agreed that if at any stage the majority of the group felt it was too dangerous to continue, we would abort the rescue attempt in question. First and foremost, we needed to look out for ourselves.
All the children had already settled down to sleep, wiped out by another long and stressful day. To their credit, over the course of the day Stanley, Daisy and Eddie had managed to drag both Emma and Josh out of their state of terrified silence, by chatting to them and trying to include them in everything. By the time they’d gone to sleep, they’d even managed a faint smile once or twice.
As the darkness wrapped itself around us, our own conversations subsided as tiredness overtook us all. Becky and I cuddled up next to our kids and we soon drifted off to sleep.
Ten minutes later Sarah woke us all up, crying for her next bottle. Even the zombies at the base of the building seemed to groan in protest at having their rest interrupted, growling and snarling in response.
As the dawn began to show on the eastern horizon, I remembered how tiring young babies can be to look after. Twenty minutes after we were all awake and preparing to leave, Sarah fell into a deep sleep for the first time in five hours.
