Z - Arrival / Z - London / Z - Payback: Books 1, 2 & 3 of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Hatchett

“Oh, I see,” Rhys advised. “No, I haven’t seen any of the others, not that I was specifically looking for them. I’ve been helping the other staff and visitors who got stuck in here when the shit hit the fan.”

  “It’s good shit,” Mamba added with a short laugh. “Wouldn’t have a castle otherwise.”

  Rhys was about to explain that it was not a castle but stopped when he saw a slight shake of the head from Daniel.

  As they were talking, the people on the grass had disbursed and the Judge and Jury, surrounded by their guards and entourage, had made their way down from the rampart and were now approaching them.

  “Well done Mamba,” the Judge praised him. Mamba had a big grin on his face and introduced Rhys.

  “Time to investigate our new home,” the Judge suggested and indicated that Daniel and Rhys should lead the way.

  As they approached the wooden steps leading up to the entrance to the White Tower, people were coming down carrying their belongings. At least a dozen who passed them were fellow Yeoman Warders, but neither Daniel nor Rhys gave any indication that they knew them.

  They took the group up the wooden steps and one at a time entered the White Tower, each person having to duck to get through. On the other side, Daniel and Rhys waited until everyone was through. Both Bill and Ben struggled due to their size and this led to a few sarcastic comments at their expense.

  Daniel was about to tell the group that the wooden steps could be moved so that no one could access the entrance as it was too high off the ground but decided that this was a piece of information best kept to himself. Instead, he explained that the entrance was purposely built low so that people could only get in one by one and had to duck; he then pointed to a section next to the door where a man could stand. “If attackers did get to the door and tried to enter, they would duck forward exposing their neck, and this gave someone standing here a simple opportunity to take off their head.”

  “Cool,” Mamba remarked. “Perhaps we should try it out?”

  The Judge laughed at the suggestion, although even he wasn’t sure whether Mamba was being serious or not.

  Daniel explained that there was a basement below the current entry level floor where they were standing, an upper floor and the ramparts above that. Each floor generally had two or three large rooms, although there were some smaller rooms dotted around. The different floors could be accessed via the spiral staircase in three of the four corners of the building. He mentioned that the stairs were specifically narrow and positioned so that any right-handed attacker going up them had his right arm to the wall, so he would not be able to move his sword easily, whereas a right-handed defender above him on the stairs would have height advantage as well as more room to swing the sword.

  “The defender is outta fuckin’ luck if the attacker is left-handed then,” Mamba snorted.

  “Maybe, but he’d still have height advantage,” Daniel advised.

  “Then I’d chop his fuckin’ legs off,” Mamba stated casually.

  Daniel could see that Mamba was quickly losing patience so didn’t bother to tell him that some of the steps were purposely higher than others to cause any attackers going up them to trip. Instead, he quickly noted that part of the building housed the Chapel Royal of St John together with the Royal Armoury.

  “Blah, blah,” Mamba shook his head. “Where’s the fuckin’ bedroom?”

  “On the floor above,” Daniel advised.

  “Let’s go,” Mamba advised, striding towards the nearest staircase. He started climbing, closely followed by Daniel then the rest of the group. As expected, about half a dozen steps up, Mamba caught his foot on the higher step and stumbled forward. Daniel hid his smile and stifled a laugh. ‘Serves the cocky bastard right’ he thought to himself. Mamba quickly righted himself and carried on as if nothing had happened.

  The group entered the upper floor and looked around. The Jury was pleased to see a fire roaring in one of the massive fireplaces and made a beeline for it.

  “This is my floor,” the Judge advised. “No one is allowed up here from now on unless I say so. Only the lieutenants can come up here without invitation. Mamba, once you’ve finished givin’ jobs to everyone, I want the inner circle up here, so we can speak to the arseholes at Heathrow. Bring these two,” he said indicating Daniel and Rhys. “Now, sort out some guards and then you can all leave while I investigate my new home.”

  Mamba positioned guards at the stairs on each floor and the entrance to the building before taking Daniel and Rhys back down to the main lawn to wait for everyone to gather.

  24

  Day 4 – 16:00

  Tower of London, Main Lawn

  It was clear that no one wanted to incur Mamba’s wrath, so everyone was on the lawn by the appointed time.

  Ever since he had left the Judge and Jury, Mamba had been giving orders to the lieutenants; to move all spare weapons and ammunition to the basement of the White Tower, sort out accommodation, sort out guard duties, gather all food and water in one of the restaurants, and so on. Mamba also used the time to select his own accommodation; he picked cottage number 1 for himself, gave number 2 to Ahmed and Dodge and number 3 to Bird and Smiley. He ordered Ahmed and Dodge to look after Daniel and the other two to look after Rhys. He then told other lieutenants to pair up and get themselves a cottage; the rest of the gang members would have to share accommodation in the larger buildings. Isaac, Grace, Zak, Nelson, and Shauna decided to stick together and quickly bagged cottage number 4 to share between them, far enough away from Mamba but close enough to see what he was up to.

  On the lawn, Mamba had also arranged for gang members to separate people into groups as they arrived; male, female, young, old. He had given Ahmed the task of finding out what workers were needed for different jobs; who could cook, clean, scavenge for supplies etc. The Judge and Jury watched proceedings from windows on the upper floor of the White Tower.

  Before allowing Ahmed to start making allocations, Mamba chose a sweet from a packet he had taken from the Tower’s sweet shop then looked around the people on the lawn, and those standing behind him. He pointed to Shauna and told her to move to a particular spot. He then walked around the female groups, selected two white women, one coloured woman and one young girl and ordered them to stand with Shauna. “You’re mine,” he told them before getting two of the gang members to take them to Mamba’s new accommodation and keep them guarded.

  Grace went up to Mamba and there was a heated discussion before Mamba shook his head in disgust and walked away. Grace quickly raced after the group of women and pulled Shauna back with her. The guards were about to go after them, but Mamba told them to wait. As Grace and Shauna re-joined the others, Mamba selected another young white girl and sent her in tears to join the small group which then headed towards his new residence.

  “What the hell are you going to do with my daughter?” a woman shouted as she strode forward from a separate group towards Mamba.

  Mamba smiled at the woman, but there was no warmth in the smile. “American?”

  “So, what?” the woman replied as she stopped in front of him.

  Mamba slowly looked the woman over from head to toe, lingering on her breasts, his mind turning. “You betta go with your daughter,” he suggested. The woman was momentarily baffled until she realised what he meant. She started to shake her head and back away then realised that there was nothing she could do. It was better to try and protect her daughter from this monster, so she moved off to catch up with the group.

  Mamba told Ahmed to start with the job allocations while he stood back and watched. He interrupted from time to time but within an hour, everyone had been given a role to carry out. Those chosen to cook were sent to the restaurant to start on an evening meal and rest were either sent to do their own jobs or allowed back to their accommodation.

  “What are you going to do with those women?” Daniel asked, although he was afraid he already knew the answer.

  “None of your fuckin’ business Dan
ny Boy,” He answered as he eagerly walked in the direction of his accommodation.

  While the other lieutenants were chatting, Daniel used the opportunity to get Rhys alone in the middle of the lawn.

  “We probably won’t have much time and no telling when we’ll get an opportunity to speak again. As you’ve seen, Mamba is psychotic, a complete barbarian, so we need to try and keep him calm. The other lieutenants seem more balanced but they’re still lethal. We need to work on the group to my right; there’s Isaac and his girlfriend Grace; they hate Mamba with a passion. Then there’s Isaac’s brother Zak and their cousin Nelson. They’ve only recently been included in the inner circle and they don’t like most of what is going down. They may be useful and might be able to help us when the time comes.”

  “Who’s the girl they just saved?” Rhys asked.

  “That’s Shauna. Mamba had his eye on her, but Grace obviously had other ideas. If you get the chance, make sure that our guys don’t do anything stupid. We need to bide our time until the right opportunity arises.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I think we’ll know when it happens. We just have to be patient and try and keep everyone left alive.”

  “Ok. We’ve deposited weapons in the usual places, so we can access them at any time. Is it worth trying to get people out now?”

  “No. I’ve been out there and there’s nowhere to go. Leaving the Tower would be suicide, so we need to make the best of what we’ve got. Mamba was paranoid to start with but now he thinks it’s all sorted and he’s starting to get careless. The lieutenants and gang members won’t bother us because they think we report direct to Mamba, so that should give us a degree of freedom. We’ll get to listen to the discussion with the people at Heathrow and I hope I can add something to the conversation. This might be the opportunity we are waiting for.”

  “What time is that taking place?”

  “Not sure, but I guess it will be sometime tonight,” Daniel answered as some gang members came over to start removing the charred bodies from the lawn.

  Daniel and Rhys moved over towards where Isaac and his group were standing under one of the arches, “What’s up guys?” Daniel asked as they got closer.

  “Not a lot,” Isaac replied. Grace is just goin’ off on one about Mamba.

  “Yes, and I never did thank you,” Shauna added. “I didn’t fancy being left alone with Mamba, although I feel sorry for the others he took, especially my replacements.”

  “Your welcome. You’ve gotta look out for number one when he’s around or you might not last long,” Grace replied with disgust. “He won’t forget about it Shauna, so you need to keep a low profile if you can, and don’t end up alone with him whatever happens.”

  “We’ll try and help you,” Daniel added to nods all around.

  “What job have you got Daniel?” Isaac asked to change the subject.

  “No idea. Tour guide?” he suggested, to a few laughs.

  “Nah, I think you’ll be drivin’ the truck. I’m part of the sub-group that’s goin’ out each day to get supplies.”

  “How’re you going to do that?” Daniel asked.

  “Not exactly sure but ‘ram raidin’ was mentioned so I assumed the truck would be used. We’ll see tomorrow.”

  25

  Day 4 – 17:30

  Heathrow Airport, Security Briefing Room

  Jack Robinson sat at the head of the conference table in the Security Briefing Room, which was part of a group of rooms and offices known as Security Command within Terminal 3 of London’s Heathrow airport.

  Before the outbreak, Jack had been the Head of the Aviation Security Operational Command Unit (SO18) of the Metropolitan Police. He was in his mid-forties with dark hair going grey at the edges. At five feet eleven inches tall with penetrating blue eyes he was an imposing figure who commanded authority. His SO18 unit had been responsible for the policing and security for all London airports but now his sole concern was Heathrow airport and the people within its secured perimeter. In total there were currently over a thousand people at the airport, some ex-police, some ex-armed forces, but the majority were civilians.

  Jack had summoned his ‘Leaders’ to the meeting. To his right sat Major Simon Fellows, known simply as ‘The Major’, who was acting as second in command to Jack. He had been in the army and was in his early forties with a chiselled face, blond crew cut and blue eyes. He was five feet nine inches tall and well built.

  Next to the Major was Issy Evans. Issy had been a Captain in the Army, serving under the Major. She was thirty-two, five feet five inches with short spiky pink hair and piercing green eyes. She had various piercing marks on and around her face and had various tattoos, none of which were visible when she was clothed. She loved action and was as hard as nails. Issy came from the East End of London.

  Next to Issy was Gina Stevens. Gina had been part of the cabin crew on the plane which brought the virus to the UK. She was twenty-four, five feet three inches tall with blond hair and blue eyes. She had earned her place at the table through her heroic actions over the past three days.

  Next to Gina was Andy Graves. Andy had been a US Federal Air Marshall or Sky Marshall for the past six years and was on the plane when the outbreak occurred. He was thirty-four, six feet tall with long brown hair and blue eyes. He was a native of Texas and was proficient in the use of weapons and unarmed combat. He and Issy had become close over the past few days.

  Next to Andy was Travis McMahon. Travis had been an SO18 officer and had only just been invited to join the Leadership Team; there had been a couple of recent vacancies following the deaths of some senior officers and the Leadership Team needed fresh faces to help keep things running smoothly. He was twenty-eight, five feet eleven inches tall, just under thirteen stone with a blond crew cut and blue eyes. A bit of a joker but hard when he needed to be.

  To Jack’s left was Sarah Jones. Sarah was the pilot of the aircraft which had brought the virus to the UK. She was thirty-eight years old and five feet six inches tall with long dark hair, brown eyes and a slim yet toned build. She had been a commercial pilot for eight years after leaving the RAF.

  Next to Sarah was Ted ‘Bear’ Keogh, formerly a SO18 Team Leader. He was a thirty-six-year-old scouser from Liverpool, six feet three inches tall and weighed in at fourteen stone, just on the heavy side of healthy. With ginger hair and brown eyes, he was difficult to miss.

  Next to Bear was Dave Grant. Dave had been a Captain in the Army. He was twenty-nine, five feet ten inches with black hair, beard, and brown eyes. Dave had been a boxer, as evidenced by his slim yet toned build, his slightly squashed nose, which was also slightly askew due to being broken numerous times, and the beginnings of cauliflower ears. He had been army boxing champion at his chosen weight for the past two years and he was someone you wanted in your corner when the going got tough. He, like Issy was from London’s East End.

  Next to Dave was Joel Edwards. Another Captain in the Army, Joel was thirty-four, six feet tall with black hair and dark brown eyes. Originally from the Caribbean, Joel was a bubbly character who enjoyed a joke and a beer but had a real passion for cricket. He was typically laid back and didn’t take life too seriously, but was reliable, focused, and hard working.

  Next to Joel was Sean Elder. Sean had been an SO18 officer and had been promoted at the same time as Travis. He was twenty-seven, six feet tall and nearly fifteen stone in weight. This would usually be considered overweight, but Sean liked to work out, so his big frame was mostly solid muscle. With his brown crew cut and dark brown eyes, he was a favourite with the ladies.

  Next to Sean was Mick ‘Irish’ Randall. Irish had been an SO18 Team Leader, was thirty-four years old, five feet ten inches tall with dark hair and green eyes. Despite the nickname, he originally came from the East End of London.

  At the end of the table was Tom Williams who was not one of the Leaders. He was thirty-six years old, five feet nine inches tall and very skinny. With his greying b
rown hair, brown eyes and glasses perched on a beak-like nose, he looked slightly owlish. He was into books and technology in a big way and was often referred to as the boffin (or nerd behind his back). He was the Surveillance Manager in charge of the Security Command Centre and was invited to most meetings to provide an update on what was happening around the airport and the outside world. The Security Command Centre was the largest single room in Terminal 3. It had no windows and was lit by LED lights which changed colour depending on the security status. The room had walls covered with large TV screens and monitors which showed news channels and live internal and external CCTV footage. There were also twenty-two surveillance operatives seated in a horseshoe facing the screens. In the centre of the horseshoe was a semi-circle of low slung swivel chairs sitting on a raised platform. This was known as the ‘Command Ring’ and only ever used by senior personnel in times of crisis.

  Jack tapped the table for order and the conversations died down. “As you know, the Major and I have been in contact with a group in East London for the past couple of days. Until now, we’ve had our own problems to deal with but now we can turn our attention to trying to help others. I’ll come back to this group in a minute, but first Joel can give us an update on the day’s events.”

  Joel sat forward. “We’ve carried out several missions today to try and rescue relatives and loved ones who were stuck outside the airport. I’m pleased to say that we’ve managed to save around two dozen people who are being checked over by medical as we speak, before being fed and allowed to rest. I expect these missions to continue for days if not weeks, certainly until the time comes when we think there are no more survivors out there.”

  “Thanks Joel,” Jack noted. “Now to the group in East London. Contact has been through basic radio channels with a guy who calls himself the ‘Judge’. He’s based in East London and says he has managed to save over a hundred people by turning his housing estate into a fortress. Now, I’m a bit dubious about anyone who calls himself the ‘Judge’ and there’s something about his manner that I don’t like, but perhaps I’m being unfair. Anyway, this Judge has been a bit vague about the information he has given us, understandable under the circumstances, but he also has no idea about our capabilities.