by Hatchett
This was Sully’s way of saying that Mamba and Ahmed were effectively his prisoners for the time being, just like Daryl and Jenny, although Daryl and Jenny would not have any choice about how they spent their night.
Mamba watched as Sully’s bodyguards approached him and picked up previously unseen handles of a litter. Sully was raised in the air like he was on a magic carpet and spirited out of the building with Hakan and the old woman following.
Mamba sat back, took another drag of his spliff and a drink of his Raki before searching the room for the pretty servant girl he had spotted earlier. She wasn’t around so he looked back towards Jenny, who was still staring daggers at him.
Mamba peeled off his motorcycle gear and sat there naked, still smoking and drinking Raki.
“What ya doing bro?” Ahmed asked, fearing the worst.
“Jus’ getting’ up for it, if ya get my drift,” Mamba replied, slurring slightly and eyeing up Jenny once again. She had seen him undress and the look in her eyes had turned to one of concern.
“Oh man,” Ahmed muttered. “Can’t you keep it in yer pants for once?”
“Look bro,” Mamba replied, pointing towards Jenny. “It’s like Sully says; a treat, sittin’ on a plate. How can ya resist?”
“Have ya ever considered what she might think ‘bout it?”
Mamba thought about the question. “No, but I’m sure she’ll love it,” he replied, slurring a bit more.
“I don’t think she will,” Ahmed replied, “look at her face.”
“I don’t need to look at her face, bro. Ya don’t look at the mantelpiece while you’re stokin’ the fire.”
“For fuck’s sake Mamba, why don’t ya give it a fuckin’ rest for a change?”
“I told ya before, I can’t help it. I jus’ get these urges.” Mamba closed his eyes for a few seconds as if he was summoning up the energy to continue the discussion.
“Well, go play with yerself then,” Ahmed looked disgusted. “It’s not right takin’ advantage of these girls, especially when they don’t want it.”
“But they do, Bro. How can they resist this?” Mamba said pointing towards his groin.
Ahmed shook his head and stood up.
“Where ya goin’? Don’t ya wanna get some too?”
“No, I fuckin’ don’t. I wanna be as far away from ya as possible at the moment.” With that, Ahmed walked in the direction of the exit, a couple of Sully’s guards following closely behind him. He turned to one of the guards and asked if he could sit on the pavement outside for a few minutes and the guard nodded his head in agreement.
“Ya can’t leave the buildin’,” Mamba called after him as he rose to his feet.
Ahmed ignored him and carried on walking.
Another couple of guards watched as Mamba staggered to his feet, the effects of the hash and Raki obviously having an effect. He wandered towards Jenny, zig-zagging as his head spun in different directions. God, he could see two Jenny’s tied to the wall. Cosmic. He looked down and saw he had two penises. Epic! One for each of the girls. He closed the gap and saw the two women in front of him shaking their heads in unison, both with the look of a cornered animal.
Mamba smiled. Well, he thought he did. He couldn’t really feel his face move. He suddenly felt exhausted and when he looked again, the two Jenny’s seemed to be miles away. He staggered again then slumped down onto one of the large red cushions sitting on the floor. He looked back up and one of the Jenny’s had disappeared. He wondered where she’d gone.
Mamba closed his eyes for a few seconds, just to rest them for a moment and get his head straight. Seconds later he was lying half on and half off the cushion and snoring.
33
Day 11 – 09:00
Heathrow Terminal 3, Security Briefing Room
The Leaders sat in their usual seats around the conference table in the Security Briefing room.
They had each given a brief update on what they had been up to, with Joel especially pleased that they’d had a successful trip to RAF Odiham, the home of the UK Chinook force. Although they had encountered and killed numerous zombies, the base was fairly remote being just outside the small Hampshire village of the same name, and they had managed to secure the main perimeter fairly easily. This had given them access to other Chinook heli’s and they were lucky enough to save a dozen or so engineers at the same time. These engineers would be able to maintain the birds and fix them if necessary.
“We have a few items to cover,” Jack advised. “The first is that I will be taking a trip in one of the heli’s to the Police College at Hendon today, to meet with the survivors including my two sons, and see what we can do to help each other. They are pretty organised over there and of course, they have access to many MP5’s and ammunition. The Major will be taking a similar trip to visit the Navy at Whale Island in Portsmouth. So, the network we are trying to build is expanding, which will help us all in the long run. I should also mention that my old boss, Sir James Curtis-Smyth, the Met’s Police Commissioner, has been trying to contact me from Burlington, but so far I’ve ignored his calls.”
“Any idea what he wants?” Bear asked.
“No, but I’m sure it won’t be anything I want to hear,” Jack replied.
Sir James Curtis-Smyth was a pompous and opinionated man of sixty-three, five feet nine inches tall with a shock of white hair. He was also grossly overweight with a large protruding gut and a red bulbous nose, which had sniffed too many glasses of brandy over the years. He was the same age and a close friend of the Prime Minister with whom he had been schooled at Eton, a fact that he was quick to tell anyone who’d listen. He had joined the Prime Minister and other key government figures, family and support staff when they ran off to hide in the underground city called Burlington on day 1 of the outbreak. Jack hadn’t heard from them since…until now.
“He probably just wants to know if you’re still alive and what’s going on above ground,” the Major suggested.
“The real question is whether he is still your boss,” Issy pointed out.
“I guess I’m off the payroll so that suggests he’s not. However, that’s an issue for another time. I might give him a call in a day or so, but that reminds me that we need to do something about the secret tunnels and trains below ground. Perhaps we need to get some presence in Downing Street and the other hubs.”
“We don’t want to spread ourselves too thinly,” Irish suggested. “For now, I wouldn’t go any further than Downing Street; after all, it is one of the key hubs and it is the only link to us here.”
“Good point,” Jack replied. “Any volunteers?”
“I’ll do it,” Andy confirmed.
“I’ll help,” Gina added. “I need a change of scenery from helping organise all the civilian activity, if that’s OK with Sarah?”
“That’s fine with me,” Sarah confirmed.
“Right, that’s settled,” Jack advised. “Next, we’ve decided to see if we can get access to Manchester airport and hopefully make it our Northern hub. We’ve had no contact from them so we have no real idea if there’s any survivors. The satellite imagery shows zombies all over the place, so initially it will just be a scouting mission rather than a take-over. Anyone fancy it?”
“I’ll do it with Irish,” Bear volunteered quickly, checking to see Irish was on board and pleased to see him nodding his head. We can use one of the Apache’s.” He had expected Issy to volunteer; this was usually the sort of thing she’d jump at, but perhaps there were other things on her mind. “You OK with that Issy?”
“Yep, I’m just going to mope around until we get a line on Mamba. He’s my number one priority and I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on anything else until I’ve got him.”
“Talking of which,” Jack continued, “Tom will provide an update. Tom, over to you.”
At the far end of the table, Tom sat forwards. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get a line on him. In fact, we have no idea where he is. We’re mannin
g the satellite twenty-four seven, but there’s been nothing remotely interesting as far as he’s concerned. Mind, all that searching has highlighted various groups of survivors across the city which we weren’t previously aware of. Some groups are larger than others but they all seem to have managed to secure areas using vehicles and other materials. At the moment, they appear to be stationery, not leaving their secure area, but I suspect it’s only a matter of time before provisions run out and they need to venture out. It will be interesting to see what methods they employ to get more resources.
As for the outbreak as a whole, there’s nothing coming out of mainland Europe now. Countries further afield have tried to secure their borders and prevent the movement of people; easier said than done when you’re a country as large as Russia or China with huge borders to cover.
There doesn’t appear to be any change to the UK islands at the moment, but it’s getting harder and harder to tell. Radio communications are dropping off; perhaps because survivors are turning or because of loss of power. We just don’t know and the only way to really find out would be to send out scouting parties.”
“There’s nothing we can do for the islands for the time being, so we need to park it,” Jack advised.
“OK,” Tom continued. “We’ve had initial contact with Japan and Australia. They seem to be fine at the moment, and of course, all flights have been suspended so they’re likely to stay virus-free for the foreseeable future. The main problem is people trying to get there by boat, obviously easier to get to Japan than Australia. Trying to monitor a coastline is nigh on impossible so they’ve got their work cut out. Oh, and we’ve also been in touch with New Zealand; they weren’t really aware of the magnitude of the problem sweeping the world.”
“Probably tending their sheep,” Sarah quipped to smiles around the table.
“Thanks Tom,” Jack said. “Any questions?”
There weren’t any so Jack closed the meeting and they all went about their tasks.
34
Day 11 – 09.15
Dalston Estate, East London
Mamba felt a small kick to his ribs and slowly opened an eyelid. It took him a little while for his eye to focus and for him to work out where he was. He realised that he was naked.
He looked up to see Hakan staring down at him.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Hakan said, with a big grin across his face.
Mamba struggled into a sitting position and surveyed his surroundings. He recalled parts of his discussion with Sully the previous evening and remembered offering him Daryl and Jenny. But, what else had he promised Sully? He looked to the wall to see that Jenny was no longer there. Had she really been stripped and chained to the wall or was it a dream? He looked back towards where he had been sitting during the chat with Sully and saw Ahmed look away from him in disgust. So, he’d been a naughty boy, but it wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. Que sera.
Mamba struggled to his knees and crawled towards his seat, grabbing his motorcycle gear on the way. He climbed up into the seat and began to get dressed. As he did so, one of the servant girls brought over a tray containing what looked like orange juice and a couple of bottles of water. Mamba grabbed the water and drank thirstily.
“Good stuff that hash,” Hakan remarked, still with a big grin spread across his face, enjoying Mamba’s discomfort, “and as for the Raki...very strong. Only for those with a good constitution, yes?”
Mamba looked up at him and slowly smiled back. “I won’t forget you kicked me Hakan.”
Hakan’s smile faltered a little. “It was no kick. Just a nudge,” he argued.
Mamba ignored him and finished off his bottle of water. He then helped himself to the other bottle of water, obviously meant for Ahmed, then sat back in his seat and looked up to the rafters, thinking.
“When’s Sully comin’ back?” Mamba asked, still looking towards the ceiling.
“Soon. Patience,” Hakan replied.
There was a ‘ting’ of metal hitting metal and Mamba looked back down to see one of the servant girls setting out some fruit. Mamba sat forwards and helped himself to some melon. God, his throat was dry.
“You want some more hash or Raki?” Hakan goaded him.
“Later,” Mamba replied, around a mouthful of melon.
The sound of doors opening heralded the arrival of Sully. Like the night before, he was carried in on his litter, somehow looking even bigger than the previous day, and was followed by his bodyguards who were putting away umbrellas. Jenny trailed behind the litter, still naked, still in chains, but now covered in several new nasty-looking bruises and was soaking wet. She looked thin, pale and scared, her head down and her shoulders slumped in defeat. This time, the older woman was not with them.
Sully was turned around and lowered into the same spot as the previous day and Jenny was given the seat behind him on the cushions, her chains once again tied to the hooks on the wall behind her.
“Mamba, good to see you’re still alive,” Sully commented with a broad smile. “Ahmed,” he nodded in Ahmed’s direction.
So, news of Mamba crashing out the previous night had obviously spread.
“It’d take more than a bit of hash and Raki to finish me off,” Mamba responded. “I take it ya enjoyed my gift,” he added, as he nodded in Jenny’s direction.
“She was a most welcome distraction from these terrible days,” Sully agreed. “I thought you were going to beat me to it, but then…you must have had a change of heart.” Sully was still grinning widely.
“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt,” Mamba retorted. “Anyway, ya come to any decision?”
“Straight to business, I see,” Sully noted.
“We haven’t got time ta waste,” Mamba agreed. “We wanna get a head start on any competitors.”
“I have decided to accept your offer,” Sully advised. “But, and I want you to listen very carefully, you try and fuck me over and your head will be placed in the centre of the estate for everyone to piss on. And, young Jenny here,” he pointed over his shoulder, “will be the first to squat down. Do you understand?”
Mamba understood perfectly, but as he wouldn’t be coming anywhere near this place again, he couldn’t give a shit. The only problem was trying to remember what he’d offered, but never mind, Ahmed would be able to fill him in. “It’s all good, Sully,” Mamba replied with a big grin on his face. He then selected another piece of melon to eat.
When he looked back up, Sully was looking back at him expectantly. ‘Shit,’ Mamba thought, ‘what the fuck is he waitin’ for?’
“What?” Mamba asked, looking confused.
“You said last night that if I agreed, you’d kiss my fat arse.”
Mamba paused with a piece of melon halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Ahmed to see him smiling then at Hakan and finally back at Sully. Suddenly Sully started laughing out loud. “Got you there, Mamba,” he wailed.
Mamba smiled and finished his piece of melon. Fat bastard!
Suddenly, Sully was all serious again. “I hope you haven’t forgotten anything else about our arrangement?” Sully said, menacingly.
“’Course not,” Mamba replied. “It’s all good.”
Sully glared at him for a few more seconds before breaking eye contact and clapping his hands.
A few seconds later, Mamba heard the doors opening again and a number of footsteps. He was momentarily worried he’d fucked something up but relaxed when he heard Sully explaining.
“These are the men I have selected to go with you. All strong, brave, resourceful, reliable and loyal. They have all proved themselves in battle and the heads on poles outside are a testament to their abilities. They are also very skilled with weapons and bomb making and have learnt the art of insurgency.”
There were nine men and one woman standing in front of Mamba, all lined up, staring straight ahead as if waiting for an inspection, all wearing jeans beneath traditional jubbah’s, the three-quarter leng
th all in one smocks. They all looked young, strong and fit and Mamba had no doubt that they were dedicated to their cause, even if it meant them losing their life. ‘Suicide bomber’ sprang to mind and Mamba decided he might want to test this theory at some point.
Mamba got to his feet and walked towards the first person in line and stared at him. Mamba noticed cuts along his cheekbones and forehead.
“That is Temel,” Sully advised. “He will speak on behalf of me.”
“What’s with the cuts on their faces?” Mamba asked, seeing similar cuts on the faces of some of the other men further down the line.
“Each cut represents the beheading of an enemy.”
“Like mine then,” Mamba pointed to his own face which was covered in scars.
“They’re all slim, in their twenties, all between five feet eight and six feet tall as discussed,” Sully continued.
“Might wanna lose the dresses,” Mamba suggested, referring to the jubbahs. “They could get in the way.”
“Let them worry about that,” Sully replied in a stern voice. “You might want to be careful what you say.” Obviously, the reference to wearing dresses hadn’t gone down well.
“I don’t want ‘em trippin’ over when the goin’ gets tough,” Mamba replied.
“Perhaps they should be wearing the same clown outfit that you’re wearing,” Sully replied sarcastically.
Mamba shrugged and moved along the line slowly, looking each of the men in the eye. Sully said their names as he passed by them; Umit, Basir, Emre, Faruk, Khalid, Osman, Mesut and Ismet. Mamba then came to the only female, a stunning looking young woman with no markings on her perfect countenance. With a start, Mamba realised that it was the pretty servant girl from the previous evening, the one he had been looking for and had designs on.
Sully noticed Mamba’s reaction. “Yes, you recognise her. All my girls are more than just pretty faces. This is Ayla. Do not be deceived by her looks. She can take care of herself and will do whatever is asked of her. Do not take her pretty face for weakness.”
