Morgan and Kathy rowed to the end of the seafood sheds and carried on. They were far enough away from the shore that if any of the zombies did spot them they couldn’t be attacked, yet they didn’t speak to one another until the cockle sheds were well behind them. “So where now Jay?” Kathy asked Morgan, in a hushed tone. “We carry on to Chalkwell and then Westcliff, I reckon. If both are the same as Leigh, we just row back to the castle.” Kathy was quick to nod in agreement, “I’m happy with that. It would be foolhardy to give up without even checking the area.” Morgan stopped rowing and placed his right hand on top of his lovers, “Just don’t get too disappointed. It’s starting to look like the whole country has fallen to the virus.” The pair were happy to leave the boat drift for a short while as they took each other in their arms, both secretly hoped that Chalkwell was clear.”
The shadows of the narrow footpaths entrance offered a much welcomed respite from the glare of the afternoon sun, and Jordan was happy to stand there for a few minutes. This seemed to agitate Lindsey who kept tutting behind him. As they had begun to draw nearer to the road the lingering smell of the undead had risen up to greet them. Despite the smell, neither of the pair could hear an accompanying moan, which made no sense at all to the sniper. Jordan slowly poked his head out from the alley, and only once he was happy that it was clear, did he step back out into the afternoon sun. What lay before them was no surprise; the usual miss-match of abandoned cars, parked bumper to bumper and discarded personal belongings that now littered the street. To their right sat Benfleet Station and their left lay a small bridge that would have allowed cars to cross the small creek running underneath of it. With the station behind them Jordan wanted to check it was clear; the last thing he wanted was to investigate the road in front of them, with a horde of the undead surprising them from the rear.
Jordan chose not to consult his decision with Lindsey and just moved off in the direction of that train station. Happy that he could hear her following a few steps behind him the sniper continued his march forwards. A small slip road led up to a passenger drop off point and the two survivors walked up it. With every step that they took the smell of death grew stronger and stronger in its intensity, and when Jordan reached the top of the ramp, he instantly knew why.
With most of Benfleet being built on slopes the station was no different, it was possible to view the large car park which was positioned on the other side of the station; it was full to the brim, not with cars, but with zombies. “Why haven’t they moved onto this side?” Lindsey asked as she leant over Jordan’s shoulders to look through the fence. “I don’t know, but let’s go and find out.” Jordan said, turning back to the teenager. He was curious, for the briefest of moments he could have sworn he saw a hidden gentleness in her eyes. “Would you de me a favour though? No gung-ho shit with that many about please.” Her laugh surprised him, “I’m a teenager with an attitude problem, not a death wish.”
As the pair reached the bottom of the road that ran directly under the train bridge, it all became apparent why the zombies hadn’t yet migrated to their side of the station. The road and the grass verge on both sides of road, were blocked by a wall of cars had been turned over on their fronts by someone attempting to block the zombies entry. Some of the undead that were trapped at the front of the large crowd watched as Jordan and Lindsey came into sight. The zombies at the front of the horde renewed their frenzied actions and that instantly triggered the others into reacting, even though they couldn’t see the sniper and the young teenager. Jordan studied the man-made wall, which was three cars deep; someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble, but who?
The walk back to the footpath entrance was made by the two in silence and when Jordan strode past the narrow, hedge lined alleyway, Lindsey didn’t ask him why. She knew that Jordan would want to check the bridge that led onto Canvey Island; it was one of only two access routes onto Canvey. Lindsey was so deep in thought, thinking have how she would lure Jordan into her bed that she failed to notice the sniper come to an abrupt halt, and carried on until she walked into his back. After picking herself back up from the floor Lindsey ceremoniously brushed at the dust adhered to her clothes, she was just about to confront Jordan when she noticed what was in front of them. “Jesus fucking wept.” She spoke out in amazement.
The British Naval Fleet, Berwick-Upon Tweed, 4th August, 15:41 GMT
For the past two hours the last three remaining manned submarines that were still in service throughout the entire planet had been gliding silently towards their target. After receiving Leonard Thomas’s coded message the three commanders had awaited authentication of the code, and their mission briefing from their illusive bosses, that they had never met. The three submarines acted for a conglomerate of the world’s leading powers combined, and operated freely from any one countries or military’s rule. As a sort they were akin to mercenaries, who were employed by a collection of Governments around the world. All of their missions were conducted in total secrecy, and as problem solvers they always got the jobs that no one else wanted.
The commander of the lead submarine hadn’t even flinched when he had first received today’s targets; all he knew was that if someone was targeted by his employers they usually deserved it, they had probably overstepped the mark. He and his team were only ever called in to eradicate a threat; they were never dispatched on a whim.
All three of the subs came to a halt as they reached their destination. Ahead of them lay what was left of the British Navy and General Harper. The subs orders were to destroy everything and to make sure that every vessel would sink; there were to be no survivors. Each of the commanders knew that sinking the entire fleet would be no easy task as the General had made sure that there was a defensive circle placed around the HMS Dragon. The one thing in the commander’s favour was that their opposition didn’t have any submarines of their own, and that ultimately dictated their tactics; it was a hit and run plan that would take them sometime to fulfil their goals.
Aboard the HMS Dragon, General Harper sat in a meeting with his officers. He had called them all together after the prolonged, individual excuses from various officers had finally pushed him over the edge. He was sick of hearing reasons for why he didn’t have his launch codes yet; all he was interested in was being given an exact time at when the codes would be in his possession. He didn’t care that there was no sign of the survivors, or that the helicopters that were now out on reconnaissance missions should have instead been out looking for supplies. Today he would have to make the boldest of all statements, before the men under his authority stopped fearing him.
The officers sat nervously at the table, waiting for the General to speak. Each had been chastised in some way or another, over their failures to secure the missing codes. Harper usually led the meeting, he always stood at the front of the room waiting to address them, but today was different. Each of the officers had given their latest briefing in turn and the last had finished a couple of minutes ago, yet Harper still remained in his chair. “Why the fuck haven’t I got my codes yet?” Harper’s venomous outburst caught them all off guard. No one sat at the table dared to answer their superior; they knew him better than that. “Isn’t anyone going to grow a pair and give me one of their bullshit excuses?” The room still stayed silent. “Well I’ll help you out with an answer will I? How about how worthless each and every one of you are?”
Harper had enjoyed patrolling around the table as each of his officers silently cowered in their chairs, his encirclement had stopped when he reached the back of Michael Taverstock; the officer who had been responsible for the two failed attacks on the Battersea bunker. The General placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder, “Take Michael here. Fifteen years as an officer, and what as he achieved?” Harper waited for an answer of any kind; one that he didn’t expect to get. “No one? Let me help you out again. He allowed a bunch of rag tag civilians to take out our best team.” Taverstock began to turn, “Sorry Sir.” A slap round the back of his head qu
ickly told him it was wrong time to speak out, “I don’t want a snivelling apology.” The irate general roared, before adding, “All I want is definite answers.” With a swift movement, belying his elder years Harper pulled the handgun from his holster and fired a single shot into the back of the Taverstock’s head. By the time the officers face heat the table in front of it, Harper had the undivided attention of the rest of his men. “Now am I going to get some answers? Or do I need to put down any more of you useless motherfuckers?” In unison the officers answered loudly, “Yes Sir.”
All three submarines opened their first four torpedo tubes at the same time; each vessel had a different target to bring down. As soon as the torpedoes had left their tubes the submarines dived deeper into the sea, and began moving away from their firing positions. The commanders of each vessel knew that as soon as the torpedoes had left their subs that their firing positions would flag up on the sonar screens of the fleet, and that would alert them to the fact that they were under attack.
In a matter of seconds the commanders had moved their vessels back into the depths of obscurity, hidden in the ocean despite the cumbersome controls they had to deal with. Two of the subs were relics from the Cold War, relics that had supposedly been de-commissioned years ago. Each of the ten countries that contributed towards the cost of their secret fleet could hide enough of their budgets to cover the cost of a force, but not the equipment it used.
As each submarine had fired from the same distance, their torpedoes struck their targets all at the same time, just as the radar technicians began to scream warnings at their captains. A destroyer that was directly in front of the Dragon was hit with all four of the torpedoes that had been aimed at it; each had torn a hole in its massive armoured hull. The pressure of water forcing its way through the holes instantly began to split the hull, until the steel joints began tearing apart, creating more noise than the fires caused by the explosions. It seemed to just take minutes before the destroyer began to list to its side. To the Dragon’s right the large oil tanker had been hit and was now engulfed in a ball of flames. Harper watched from the bridge of the Dragon as his fleet was being attacked from an unseen enemy.
“We need to evacuate the ship.” Harper barked at his second in command. “We can’t Sir.” The officer stammered. “Why the fuck not?” The captain looked at his superior, “Because you sent every one of them out on reconnaissance Sir.” Blood started to fill Harper’s cheeks as rage threatened to engulf him, “Get them the fuck back then?” The captain ran to the radio operator, ordering him to summon the choppers back immediately. Harper looked back out at sea as he issued his next order, “Contact the other ships. Tell them that they are to deploy every mine they have.” The captain looked aghast at the order, “Bur Sir. If we drop the mines, we won’t be able to move out of the area without triggering them ourselves?” Harper turned to face him with his nostrils flaring, “Do it.” He bellowed as three more explosions sounded around them.
From a safe distance the lead submarine commander viewed the damage that they had inflicted upon the Navy. The ships that they had struck were doomed; it might take some time before they sunk, but it was a formality. For now he was happy to wait for the Dragon’s outer defensive ring to crumble. He smiled as he watched the mines being deployed. Into the water; He didn’t intend going anywhere near them.
A mayday call from the Dragon reached the rest of the fleet. The six remaining helicopters had turned back as requested and as none of them were gunships, they could return back within two hours. None of the six pilots had ever been aware of the hidden eyes that had been watching them. The infantry teams that had followed the chopper’s every move now were in position, they had been deployed to Britain at the same time as the subs had started their journey. Each large team was complimented with two stinger missile launchers that would easily take each chopper down. After waiting for the order on their radios, they set into action, their task to remove any chance of Harper still breathing. When the order came through the first of the stinger missiles were fired.
The captain of the Dragon reluctantly approached Harper, choosing to stop just behind him. “What is it?” Harper asked the officer, without turning to face him. “We’ve just lost radio contact with one of the birds Sir.” “How?” Harper roared, turning to face his captain. “Some kind of missiles Sir.” Harper turned back to sea shaking his head, “Who the hell is attacking us?” The general’s head snapped back as his captain stuttered an answer out, “We don’t know Sir.” “Well fucking find out would you?” Harper practically screamed out in range as he stormed off towards the Dragon’s deck.
Just as a warning came through to the other five helicopter pilots that they were at risk of being attacked, two camouflaged figures crept along the roof of the old Nat West Tower. The two men were each carrying one of the deadly launchers. The pilot of the approaching helicopter saw the men and pushed his stick to the right to veer away from them, he was so busy making sure that he was out of range that he ignored the spotter sitting next to him. Relief soon turned to despair when the pilot noticed the missile hurtling towards them, he tried in vain to out manoeuvre the weapon that had locked onto them. The helicopter was blown apart from the exploding missile as it hit them head on.
The HMS Dragon was now the only vessel sitting out in the ocean that was yet to be damaged. With any hope of an evacuation being dashed Harper stood at the front of the deck, staring out to sea whilst he inhaled the smoke from his cigar. Most of the other crews had started abandoning ship; he wondered to himself why some of his men now thought to stay above the water, eventually the sea would consume everything. If they managed to survive and get to shore, how long would they survive? As he looked down into the sea he caught sight of the twin projectiles rushing towards him. General Harper took one last long drag on his cigar and expelled the smoke with a broad smile spread across his face. “Fuck you, fuck you all.” He said out loud and began to roar with laughter just as the first two torpedoes hit the Dragon head on.
Canvey Island, Essex, 5th August, 9:05 GMT
Everyone stood at the front of the bridge; each in total awe at what lay before them. Despite Jordan’s and Lindsey’s incredible tales being told over a campfire the previous evening, no one had dared to believe they were true, it sounded like a fairy tale. They all now stood in front of the hand painted sign that was hung at the front wall of cars that blocked the road. All of them couldn’t help but keep reading the sign, every time the same words blinked back at them, “Sanctuary ahead for the uninfected.”
The barricade of cars that had been parked at both ends of the small bridge, as well as a line of each barricading either bank of the creek must have taken an age to arrange, and Gerard respected the planning that had obviously gone into it. He was even more impressed with the array of wooden and metal pointed pikes that covered the entirety of the clay like estuary bed below them. As the group began to climb over the cars they were met by a solitary man. Apart from a melee weapon honed from what looked like an old table leg, that he held in his hand he had no other weapon that could be of a concern to them.
Kathy was the first member of the group to climb down from the wall and greet the much older man, he didn’t seem nervous to be meeting a group on his own; if anything he came across relieved that he had someone to talk to. “Hi there, my name is John. Welcome to Canvey Island.” The guard announced in what felt like a well-rehearsed greeting. “Kathy”, the soldier suspiciously replied with her hand outstretched to greet him properly. John instantly accepted the gesture, shaking her hand a little too vigorously, “It’s so good to see someone from the outside.” Kathy chose not to waste any time, “Are you on your own John?” The old man laughed, “God no. There are a couple of hundred of us here.” Everyone in the group stood with their mouths open in total shock, after a few seconds Kathy regained her composure and asked, “A couple of hundred?” John nodded, it was hard to take him seriously. He reminded Kathy of a bobble head figure that som
eone might have on the dashboard of their car. “Yes a lot of us were holed up in the sports centre for a few days, until a group of soldiers from the Shoeburyness barracks arrived. We helped them block the Island’s two exits and then devised a plan to retake it street by street.” John proudly informed them.
The group continued to talk to the guard, each bombarding him with a barrage of questions at the same time, it all became too much for him and he decided to give up on his attempts to appease everyone. “You’ll be briefed and then given a guided tour after you’ve cleared quarantine.” He told them, before politely taking time to shake each of their hands. John stopped when he returned back to Kathy, “Ae you the leader of this wonderful group then?” Kathy nodded at his question, she didn’t get time to reply as the nod started him off talking again, “If you make your way forward and stay on the road you will reach the quarantine zone.” The old man informed her before turning his back and walking away.
As the group moved on across the small bridge they heard John informing someone on his radio that ten outsiders were on their way towards them. After being let down so many times by other survivors integrity they all expected the worse when they reached quarantine. They couldn’t help their scepticism and when they reached the next check point they were surprised by how rural the majority of the area felt. To their left another wooden sign informed them that there was a golf course and a public footpath, looking in the direction of the sign they could all see the ugly concrete wall that surrounded the Island. Off to the right was a marshland that was mainly covered in green foliage. Although the marsh would prevent any zombie attack, people had been busy and their legacy was a wall of foreboding spikes scattered throughout the marsh. As an extra precaution there was a single line of cars spread along the edge for as far as the eye could see.
Day Zed - Box Set: Volumes I and II Page 40
