by Hatchett
They were brought out of their reverie by a couple of zombies getting up close and personal. Ahmed froze but Mamba casually raised his knife and plunged it into the eye of the zombie getting in his face. The zombie went down like a sack of spuds and left Mamba with a wide grin on his face.
Mamba then stabbed the other zombie through the ear and then nudged Ahmed to get his attention. Mamba held up his knife. Ahmed quickly retrieved his own knife and nodded.
Mamba pointed towards the railway bridge and Ahmed shook his head and pointed towards the nearby vehicles. Mamba shook his head harder, pointed again to the railway bridge and set off on a slow walk. Ahmed shrugged his shoulders and followed. If a zombie came within range Mamba stabbed it in the head like he was swatting flies. It wasn’t long before Ahmed joined in the fun.
After a few hundred metres they came to the main A13 Commercial Road which led all the way to Whitechapel and Aldgate, before heading into the city. There were plenty of local shops on this road and Mamba knew that he’d be able to find pretty much whatever he wanted. He would have liked a couple of rifles, but he didn’t think there would be much chance of finding any of those around here, unless he was willing to waste a lot of time searching through the private areas of the shops. He might try a couple, but first he needed some food.
They stood still, looking around until Mamba spotted a local supermarket a few metres away. He nudged Ahmed and pointed before setting off. As he got to the edge of the pavement he automatically stopped and looked both ways before continuing on, Ahmed almost walking into the back of him. ‘Fuckin’ idiot’ he thought to himself; fancy stopping to check for traffic when everything was at a standstill. ‘Wakey, wakey!’ he scolded himself.
They reached the front door of the shop and Mamba cupped his hands to the glass and took a look inside. Once he was satisfied, he pulled back and indicated ‘eight’ with his fingers before shaking his hand to indicate that it was a rough figure.
The shop didn’t have motion sensor doors, so they had to ease the doors open slowly before slipping inside. Mamba headed in the direction of the first zombie he saw and stabbed it in the head. He could hear Ahmed moving in a different direction and doing the same. Mamba’s next victim was obviously one of the shop staff in their green-checked uniform; a matronly-looking woman in her fifties and plenty of meat on her bones. She was soon dispatched and Mamba moved on.
Once they had cleared the shop, Ahmed came up to Mamba, who was now looking around all the shelves stocked with food, snacks and drinks.
“Fuckin’ brilliant this, Ahmed,” Mamba said with a smile and a small shake of the head. “All our dreams comin’ true. ‘Help yer fuckin’ self!” Mamba located a small trolley and shouted, ‘Supermarket Sweep!’ before proceeding to throw all sorts of goods into it. Ahmed got into the spirit, found himself a trolley and started loading it up. They steered well clear of the freezer and fruit areas as there was a putrid smell and loads of flies buzzing around.
With the trolleys full and goods almost falling off, Mamba took one final look around before spotting the tobacco shelves and helped himself to packs of cigarettes and a handful of lighters.
“Now what?” Ahmed asked, not sure whether they should eat in the safety of the shop before venturing out again.
“Now, it’s time for a drink.”
Mamba pushed his trolley towards the exit doors with a confused Ahmed following behind. Between the two of them they held open the door while the trolleys were pushed through the gap and Mamba set off up the road. Ahmed followed and grimaced as the trolley bounced over a cracked pavement and a couple of glass bottles clinked loudly against each other.
Mamba’s head shot around, giving Ahmed a death-stare as the noise attracted some zombies in the nearby area. Mamba slowly shuffled back to Ahmed’s trolley, grabbed what he thought was the offending object and launched it towards the buildings on the other side of the road. The glass shattered against a wall and exploded in all directions. It had the desired effect as the nearby zombies headed in the direction of the new sounds. Ahmed looked disappointed; he’d been looking forward to eating the gherkins in that jar and wondered whether Mamba would mind if he nipped back into the supermarket to get another one. One look at Mamba’s face told him it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.
Mamba continued to give Ahmed the hard stare before turning and going back to his trolley and setting off again. Ahmed hurriedly checked his trolley to make sure there were no other hard items next to each other which might cause more noise before he followed on.
It wasn’t long before Mamba stopped and waited for Ahmed to catch up. Ahmed looked at Mamba in confusion before Mamba pointed to the building they were standing next to, a big smile plastered across his face.
It was a pub called the ‘Golden Lion’ and Mamba pushed open the front door carefully. It was gloomy inside and there were several ethereal shapes moving around in the darkness. A couple of rays of sunshine burst through the gaps in the curtains across the windows and once they were both side by side in the building, they waited for a few minutes to allow their eyes to adjust. They then moved forwards with purpose and started stabbing the zombies with abandon. Most of these zombies were what were once old, infirm and decrepit excuses for humanity and it didn’t take long to take them all out.
Once they were satisfied that there were none left and all the access points to the bar were closed, they returned to the entrance and carefully lifted their trolleys in one by one. Mamba then closed the door, moved to the windows and threw back the curtains. The sudden brightness made him squint as his eyes adjusted then he took a good long look around. Nothing of interest, so he moved behind the bar, opened the fridge and pulled out some bottled beers.
“Help yerself Ahmed,” Mamba offered, “but they might be a bit on the warm side.”
Mamba grabbed himself a Bud and a bottle opener and carried them over to a table, dragged his trolley across, sat down and tucked into some of his food and drink. Ahmed selected a Peroni and joined Mamba and they sat there as happy as pigs in shit.
“This is the fuckin’ life, eh Ahmed?” Mamba opined between taking a bite out of his Peperami and swigging down a mouthful of beer. “Fuckin’ handsome.”
“Yeah, it’s the bee’s knees, man,” Ahmed replied.
“Dog’s bollocks.”
“Mutt’s nuts.”
“Pooches’ privates.”
“Pooches’ privates?” Ahmed asked with scorn. “Where’d ya dig up that one up from?”
“Jus’ came to me like ‘sweet as a nut’.”
They sat back and pondered their situation.
“Another?” Mamba asked, rising and heading back to the bar, lighting a cigarette as he went and taking a long pleasurable drag. “Ahh, that’s good,” he muttered.
“Why not? It’s free and we’re in no hurry,” Ahmed replied.
A few beers later they settled down on the padded bench seating fixed to the walls and took a nap.
3
Day 8 – 16:00
Commercial Road, East London
Mamba awoke and stretched before sitting up and yawning. Ahmed was still snoring away on the next bench along.
Mamba lit up another cigarette and blew a few smoke rings as he surveyed the overflowing ashtray and the large number of empty bottles and food wrappers which littered the nearest tables and the floor. God, was he enjoying himself! Nothing better than doing what you want, when you want. He thought about the bastards at the Tower and at Heathrow and felt his anger rising at what they had done. He was still too angry to work out how he was going to pay them back, but he would do in time. There was no rush.
He nudged Ahmed, “Come on Ahmed, ya lazy git. Time ta wake up.”
Ahmed stirred and looked like he was going to turn over and doze off again until Mamba slapped him on the head. That woke him up and Ahmed sprang up with his knife in his hand ready to battle the non-existent zombies.
“Fuck me, Ahmed. Put yer tool away, man.�
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Ahmed looked around quickly, the sleep and grogginess from all the earlier beers rapidly slipping away. He looked down at Mamba before putting his knife away, sitting back down and lighting his own cigarette.
“What the fuck did ya do that for, man?” he asked. “I’ve got a fuckin’ bruise there, and I was havin’ a nice dream!”
“Wet one?”
“What? No, fuck off! No, I... can’t remember now, but my fuckin’ head hurts.”
“Shouldn’t drink if ya can’t handle it.”
“It wasn’t the fuckin’ drink, it was ya punchin’ me in the fuckin’ head.”
“Wasn’t a punch, it was a light slap. If I’d punched ya, it’d be lights out.”
“Whatever.”
They smoked their cigarettes in silence before Ahmed asked, “So, what’s next?”
“I’ve got some ideas,” Mamba replied cryptically.
“Care to share ‘em?” Ahmed asked sarcastically.
“No.”
“Fuckin’ Hell Mamba, ya get right on my tits sometimes,” Ahmed retorted. “Maybe I’ll jus’ fuck off on my own and leave ya to it.”
“Ya wouldn’t last five minutes without me,” Mamba replied. “You’d still be sittin’ in that truck shittin’ yerself or eatin’ yer fuckin’ gherkins in the middle of the street while the zombies were munchin’ on ya.”
“Whatever. I’m goin’ for a piss.” With that, Ahmed stood up and headed in the direction of the door marked ‘toilets’.
“Watch out for the shrivelled white dick and the glory hole,” Mamba shouted after him.
Ahmed raised his middle finger and directed it over his shoulder. He opened the door and entered the toilet, Mamba’s laughter following him until the door closed behind him. There was a noise and Ahmed stood still before he realised that someone, or more likely something, was in one of the cubicles. The noise-maker could wait so Ahmed quickly moved across to the urinal, keeping a close eye on the cubicles behind. Once he had finished, he withdrew his knife and asked quietly, “Hello, anyone there?” He wasn’t expecting a response and wasn’t surprised when there was a thump on the other side of the door and the gnashing of teeth.
Before he knew what was happening, there was another thump as the zombie hit the floor and an arm and head appeared at the bottom of the cubicle door. Ahmed jumped back out of reach just as the arm snaked towards his ankle and the gnashing teeth got closer. Ahmed’s momentary fright quickly disappeared and he brought his knife down in one fluid motion and stabbed the zombie in the head. All movement and noises stopped and Ahmed wiped his blade before returning to Mamba.
“What was all that noise ‘bout? Ya wankin’ at the thought of a glory hole?” Mamba asked.
“Fuck off, Mamba! There was no glory hole. What is it with ya and glory holes anyway? Anyone’d think yer got a thing ‘bout ‘em the way ya go on.”
“Well, I need to go to the bog as well, but I didn’t wanna interrupt ya,” he said as he rose to his feet and headed in the direction of the toilet.
“Mind the shrivelled white dick and the glory hole,” Ahmed hollered.
4
Day 8 – 16:30
Commercial Road, East London
Mamba and Ahmed topped up there camouflage using the bodies in the bar. They then left their trolleys in the pub and started walking in the direction of the city.
Mamba was like a kid in a sweetshop; there was hardly a shop he didn’t want to go in. He entered an electrical shop to survey the cameras and computers and didn’t leave until Ahmed pointed out that nothing would work. He then entered a jewellers and helped himself to some new gold chains, a gold bracelet, some diamond earrings and a nice expensive watch. On this occasion, even Ahmed had a good look around and helped himself to some merchandise rather than standing near the doorway, huffing and puffing and waiting for Mamba to finish up.
Mamba next went into a sort of car maintenance shop and helped himself to a couple of cans of spray paint. Ahmed had no idea what he wanted these for until Mamba started spraying ‘MAMBA WAS HERE’, ‘MAMBA IS KING’, ‘NO RULES’ and other such shit on shop windows and walls wherever he went until the cans ran out. On one wall, Mamba had accidently scrawled ‘MAMBA IS HER’ and Ahmed couldn’t help but laugh and refused to tell him what was up. Mamba had wanted to go back to the same shop and get some more cans, but it was some distance and Ahmed finally managed to dissuade him. He could be such a child sometimes!
There followed a visit to a convenience store, a bric-a-brac shop and baby shop. By this time, Ahmed was losing his patience, was pissed off and bored stiff.
“Why the fuck ya wanna go in some baby shop anyway? Ya need to get yerself some fuckin’ nappies or what?” Ahmed had asked in exasperation.
“Jus’ never been in one before and wanted to see what it sold,” Mamba explained.
“Well, now ya fuckin’ know. They don’t sell guns, drugs, fags, alcohol or rubbers, so can we fuckin’ go now, please?”
“I don’t use rubbers.”
“What?” Ahmed asked, confused.
“I don’t use, rubbers. Bare-back all the way, man.”
“Do I look like I give a shit?” Ahmed asked rhetorically. “Let’s go.” With that, Ahmed left the shop and stood on the pavement, suddenly unsure where he was heading. He took out his frustration on a couple of nearby zombies as Mamba came out of the shop after him.
“See. Yer lost without me,” Mamba pointed out quietly and started walking in the direction of Head Street, passing blocks of apartments to their right and the Marion Richardson Primary School to their left, with a playground full of four to six-year-old zombies shuffling around with no purpose, broken up by the occasional adult zombie which must have been a teacher at one time. Mamba couldn’t help himself but stab a few kids through the railings, much to the disgust of Ahmed, but he wasn’t about to say anything now they were back outside. Instead he just walked ahead of Mamba and waited for him to catch up. By this time, Ahmed had a good idea where Mamba was heading and he wasn’t really sure if it was a good idea or not.
The school and apartments gave way to more up market terraced houses as they turned into Senrab Street. Other than cars parked on either side of the road, it was a relatively nice street for the area with well-maintained houses along almost its entire length.
As they neared the end of Senrab Street, they could see Aylward Street and the first glimpse of their home, the Green Park Estate.
To their left was a newish block of apartments called the ‘Sunrise Apartments’ which stood over three levels facing the Green Park Estate. The building was supposed to be modern-chic but was actually just breezeblocks interspersed with some dark wood. The ground floor apartments had their own front doors facing the Green Park Estate as well as rear access, but the apartments on floors one and two just had access via stairs and the walkway at the rear. They had their own small balconies to the front as a form of compensation. This was exactly what Mamba was looking for; somewhere he could spy on the Green Park Estate without being seen.
“Ya seen the name of this shithole?” Mamba asked, smiling.
“It’s not a shithole,” Ahmed replied. “I wouldn’t mind livin’ here. Gotta be betta than our place.”
Mamba thought about it.
“Figure of speech, bro, but ‘Sunrise Apartments’? Really?” he asked in disgust. “Sounds like an old codgers home. With a name like that it should also say somethin’ like ‘over 70’s only, come here to live out your last few days and die peacefully’. Fuckin’ developers have no idea.”
Ahmed didn’t respond. Who gave a shit what the building was called? Except Mamba, of course.
The main gate to the rear was locked and required either a key card or PIN to access. Mamba considered shooting the lock but didn’t want to make a noise and alert the residents of the Green Park Estate, so he got Ahmed to form a stirrup with his hands so that he could be boosted onto the top of the wall. He then helped Ahmed up and they both droppe
d down the other side and into the yard.
The backyard was quiet and a zombie-free zone and everything seemed reasonably quiet and still.
Mamba knew a lot of people in this building. After all, he’d sold a lot of drugs in his previous life and there had also been many occasions when he needed to do a bit of debt-collecting. He’d dangled more than one person over their balcony to get his message across, and he smiled fondly at the memories.
“We want the top floor,” Mamba advised, and I know jus’ the one.”
“Why?” Ahmed asked innocently.
“’Cos, the higher we are, the betta we can see what’s goin’ on across the road. Plus, I wanna have a look ‘round Jamelia’s apartment; she was one sexy bitch and I fancy havin’ a look in her knicker drawer.”
“For fuck’s sake, Mamba. Don’t ya ever give it a rest?”
“I can’t help it if I’ve got a permanent stiffy. It’s an illness and there’s no cure.”
Ahmed led the way to the open-air staircase in the centre of the block and slowly climbed towards the third floor. He thought he saw some net curtains twitch in more than one window as he climbed, but it could easily have been his imagination. He didn’t think it was worth mentioning and Mamba was oblivious to what was going on around him.
On the third floor, Mamba pushed passed Ahmed and headed along the left-hand walkway towards the end. At the second to last door, apartment 302, he stopped and put his ear to the door.
Mamba could swear he could hear something inside, so he crouched down, quietly opened the letterbox and listened carefully. He was right. There was some music being played on low volume, and as he listened he realised it was ‘Down Under’ by ‘Men at Work’, an Aussie band singing about vegemite sandwiches, whatever the fuck they were. He guessed it was their version of Marmite, and as the advert went, you either loved it or hated it. As far as ‘Down Under’ was concerned, he fuckin’ hated it and they could keep their vegemite sandwiches as well. Absolute pile of shit. He was more a Sex Pistols man himself; nothin’ wrong at all with a bit of ‘Anarchy in the UK’, very apt considerin’ the circumstances.
