by Hatchett
“What did your last slave die of?” Ayla asked sarcastically.
“Talkin’ too fuckin’ much and not gettin’ me a beer,” Mamba retorted as he lit a cigarette.
Mamba helped himself to a couple of bottles and handed one to Ahmed who had just returned. They then moved over to the tables and sat down.
“The sign says, ‘No Smoking’,” Ayla pointed out with a smile.
“Tell the fuckin’ landlord,” Mamba replied.
“Where is he?”
Mamba looked around before pointing to a body lying on the floor near the entrance to the bar. “I don’t think he’s in listenin’ mode.”
While Mamba and Ayla continued to bicker, Ahmed moved across to Basir.
“What’s all this stuff you’ve got?” he asked.
Basir was in his element. He spent the next fifteen minutes pointing out all his materials and tools and what they were for.
“Can you teach me?” Ahmed asked, and the smile across Basir’s face was confirmation enough.
Mamba and Ayla were still bickering and Ahmed had had enough.
“Will you two shut the fuck up? We’re tryin’ to do somethin’ important here.”
Mamba and Ayla stopped their bickering and looked at Ahmed in surprise.
He stared back as Basir slunk down into his seat, expecting Mamba to launch himself at Ahmed at any second.
“Why don’t you two go and play upstairs?” Ahmed suggested.
Mamba looked at Ayla and she looked back. There was unspoken agreement and the two of them stood up and disappeared.
Ahmed focused back on Basir and the assortment of items on the table. “Why have ya got so many digital clocks?” Ahmed asked.
“We’ve got to set the time for the bombs to go off. We don’t want them going off at the wrong time.”
“OK, so what do we do?” Ahmed asked as the first groans and squeals were heard from upstairs.
“Let me show you,” Basir replied, then stopped and looked towards the ceiling as the first of many screams rang out.
“Could be a long night,” Ahmed suggested.
46
Day 13 – 08:00
The George & Dragon, Hounslow
The four of them sat in the lounge, drinking coffee which had been brewed using the portable stove Ahmed had been carrying. On the table, the piles of equipment had been turned into twelve rectangular objects, about six inches wide by twelve inches long. They all looked pretty much the same with various coloured wires, various bits of metal, batteries and a digital clock on the top each, all reading the current time. Next to these were smaller objects, which looked like hand grenades.
Mamba picked up each of the objects to gauge their weight and guessed that the larger one was around a kilo and the smaller one about half of that.
“So, tell me what they do,” Mamba ordered Basir.
“They go bang,” Basir replied, spreading his arms above his head to suggest the explosion.
“No, ya fuckin’ plank. I mean tell me how to set ‘em and what damage they’ll do.”
Basir leaned forwards, pleased to have an audience. He explained how to set each of the bombs and what they would do. “The timers are already programmed, so all you have to do is click this switch to make them ready,” Basir explained, pointing to the switch in question.
“Good,” Mamba replied with a wide smile. “What ‘bout the other groups?”
“What about them?” Basir asked, confused.
“Are they makin’ the same bombs?”
“Yeah, similar,” Basir responded. “Not as good as mine, but they’ll do the job.”
“They better fuckin’ do the job,” Mamba replied.
“What happens if the bombs are found?” Ayla asked. “Surely they’ll be easy to switch off. Isn’t there some kind of failsafe or something?”
“You’ve been watching too many films,” Basir replied with a laugh. “I haven’t got any mercury trip switches or anything like that. These are just simple turn on, wait, bang. I could’ve made them more complicated but I was told they needed to be as small as possible and not too heavy.”
“Ya did good, Basir,” Mamba commended him.
Basir beamed under the praise. “I got a lot of help from Ahmed.”
“Is that so?” Mamba asked, turning to Ahmed.
“Yep, I now know how to make a bomb,” Ahmed confirmed with a grin.
“That’ll come in handy,” Mamba agreed. “You’ll have ta show me sometime…when I’m less busy.” He looked towards Ayla and gave her his ‘naughty boy’ grin.
Ayla returned the grin and Ahmed huffed in disgust. “Can’t you two lovebirds pack it in for one minute? We’ve got work to do.”
“Right,” Mamba agreed, “that reminds me.” He got up and went up to one of the bodies and sliced it up ready to get dirty. “Give me a hand Ahmed,” he ordered.
“What are ya up to now?” Ahmed asked as he started rubbing blood and guts over Mamba’s back. “Goin’ to get our breakfast?”
“So you noticed the butcher’s as well,” Mamba noted.
“I see everythin’,” Ahmed replied.
“The meat will be off by now. What is halal anyway?” Mamba asked.
“Fuck knows,” Ahmed replied.
Mamba looked over his shoulder. “Either of you two know what halal is?”
“Of course,” Ayla replied. “I won’t bore an infidel like you with the details but to a Muslim, it effectively means allowed or permissible or lawful.”
“Good to know,” Mamba replied, looking at Ahmed with a frown on his face as if to say, ‘what the fuck?’
“Don’t sweat it bro,” Ahmed whispered. “Ya didn’t answer my question.”
“Ain’t got time, gotta go.”
With that Mamba left the pub and Ahmed went back to sit with Ayla and Basir.
*****
Half an hour later Mamba was back.
“Where ya been bro?” Ahmed asked as Mamba went and helped himself to a beer, grabbed a few extra and came back to the table, lighting a cigarette as he walked.
“Bit early isn’t it?” Ayla asked, looking at the bottles of beer.
“We married or somethin’?” Mamba responded. He ducked his head in Ahmed’s direction. “You see any thumb print, bro?”
“I can see the beginnin’s of one,” Ahmed responded.
“Fuck off, Ahmed!” Mamba shouted, “who’s side ya on anyway?”
Ayla started laughing and Besir decided he was keeping out of it and suddenly found his finger nails very interesting.
“Never too early or too late for a beer,” Mamba asserted.
“Well, where have you been? I hope you haven’t been unfaithful,” Ayla stated.
“Yeah, of course, found me a nice piece of zombie ass in the tube station,” Mamba replied mockingly.
“Tube station?” Ayla asked. “What were you doing there?”
“Had an idea when we passed it yesterday. Looked it up in me book. The line goes to Heathrow, so I thought it might be another way in.”
“And is it?”
“Is it what?”
“Another way in?” Ayla asked, beginning to lose her patience.
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean, no, it’s not another way in.”
“I get that, but why is it not another way in? God, you can be so fucking difficult sometimes, Mamba.”
“Don’t swear, it’s not nice for ladies to swear.”
“For fuck’s sake Mamba,” Ayla shouted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she yelled.
“Later babes, but only if you ask nicely.”
Ayla shrieked and went to launch herself at Mamba but he held up his hands with a wide smile across his face. “Gotcha!”
“Will you now please tell us?” Ahmed asked, hoping Mamba’s little game was over.
“Yeah bro. Thought we could walk down the line straight into the airport. But we can’t. Well, we could, but it’d take too l
ong.”
“Why?”
“Too many fuckin’ zombies down there, man. Like a sea of zombies. We’d be fightin’ through ‘em forever.”
“What ‘bout a closer station?”
“Maybe. It’d be shorter, but I still can’t see it bein’ much easier.”
“What’s the nearest station?”
Mamba grabbed his rucksack and pulled out his map. “Says here it’s Hatton Cross.”
“Where the fuck is that? Never heard of it.”
Mamba consulted his map again. “Right next door to the airport, bro. Shouldn’t be far to go underground either. Only ‘bout an inch or two on this map.”
“Which is what?”
“Lemme see…fuck! It’s still ‘bout a kilometre. Fuck that! We stick to Plan A.”
“When we goin’?” Ahmed asked.
Mamba looked at his watch and saw it was just after 9am. He looked through the window and saw that the weather hadn’t changed since he went to the Tube station. It was still cloudy with the odd spot of blue sky, but thankfully there was no hint of rain. “Might as well get goin’. Lot’s to do.”
They all placed their rucksacks on the table and removed anything which wasn’t essential. They then shared out the bombs so each of them had three of the large ones and the same number of smaller ones.
“These ain’t gonna blow as we walk, are they?” asked a concerned Mamba.
“Not unless they’re turned on and you trigger the detonator,” Basir replied.
“And how would I do that?” Mamba asked.
“Dunno really, never tried it. But, I wouldn’t jump around too much,” Basir suggested.
“Thanks for that,” Mamba said sarcastically, and took a little more care packing his rucksack, making sure each device had some padding around it. He also made sure that he kept his map and the Good Pub Guide in the pocket, along with several weapons.
“We all know what we’re doin’, right?” Mamba asked.
“Yes,” Ayla replied. “We stay in sight but blend in and place the devices. Then we fall back and wait for the fireworks.”
“Anythin’ goes wrong, we meet back here,” Mamba ordered. “Everythin’ goes right, we still meet up back here. Got it?”
There were nods all around.
“Let’s go.”
Mamba rose from his chair and the others followed suit. He quickly lit another cigarette and took a drink from his bottle of beer as the other three got dirty. When they were ready, he stubbed his cigarette out under his boot and headed to the door.
47
Day 13 – 08:15
The George & Dragon, Hounslow
The four left the pub and spread out, merging with the zombies nearby.
They all loosely followed Mamba back up Bath Road to the main intersection where McDonalds was now situated rather than the pub which had once been called ‘The Golden Harp’. They continued straight across the intersection onto the continuation of Bath Road with the aim of walking to the North of the airport.
After a few hundred metres Basir spotted a pub and couldn’t help but mention it. Mamba heard him muttering ‘could’ve stayed here last night’.
A little bit further along Mamba spotted a Travelodge and wondered if it would have been better to stay there. After all, it might have a view over the airport. There again, it might not. Anyway, he didn’t want to be too close to the airport because he didn’t know what the people there were up to or what nearby premises they might have taken over. So, it was best for him and his group to station themselves further out and just blend in with the zombies when they needed to come closer. He just hoped the other groups were doing the same thing.
A few hundred metres later, after passing various shops and residential buildings, they came to a building site. The site had been left open and it was clear that the builders had been working on something a few stories high; Mamba could see the steel framework of the building and that the floors were in place, but there were no walls and just ladders to climb up. He wondered if it was worth taking a look but decided against it. He didn’t mind heights but didn’t really like ladders.
They passed a trading estate, a car rental business, a Starbucks and a KFC. Mamba knew that there were many routes he could now take towards the airport to their South, almost every road and track would take them there. They passed a Premier Inn then found themselves at the first of many long stay car parks.
To their left was clear and unused grassland but Mamba realised that this would not be a good place to cross over; the area was fenced off and there wasn’t a zombie in sight, so they would stick out like a sore thumb. So, he took them back towards the Premier Inn and walked down the side of the building to the car parking area at the rear. It was a large area and went back a long way. It was also full of zombies which meant their movement would be camouflaged.
At the far end of the cark park was a hedge border leading into yet another large car park. There were gaps in the hedge at various intervals so there was no problem getting through. They continued to head South and soon began to see large hangers and the top parts of planes over the fencing. They came to a barrier and simply walked around it onto the Northern Perimeter Road, right next to the airport. Perfect.
Mamba crossed the Northern Perimeter Road and stood next to the fencing, looking directly into the airport. He could see figures and vehicles moving around in the distance and smiled to himself. These people were finally going to find out what happened when they crossed Mamba.
Mamba looked around and saw that there were large number of zombies all around. He motioned Ahmed over and once he arrived, got him to duck down so that he could get into his rucksack and bring out the first of the larger devices. This he placed right next to the fence, adjacent to one of the fence supports. He was then about to select one of the smaller objects when he spotted a CCTV camera on a high pole just twenty metres away. The camera was moving slowly towards him.
Mamba quickly nudged Ahmed and pointed, then they moved swiftly back the way they had come, back into the car park, and headed to an office building sitting near the exit. The door was unlocked so Mamba pushed straight in and had to quickly retrieve his knife to dispatch a couple of uniform-wearing zombies.
Ahmed, Ayla and Basir had followed him, making sure they entered the office at intervals, and they now stood in the office, looking out of the windows at row upon row of cars.
“What’s the matter?” Ayla asked, as Mamba lit a cigarette.
“I was placin’ the first device when I spotted a CCTV camera up a pole. I didn’t think they’d be workin’ anymore, but it was movin’, so I shoulda checked first. That means they’ve got power and God knows what else. Jus’ lucky they didn’t spot us!”
“OK, so what does it mean now?” Ayla asked.
“It means that we can’t do this all together. They’ll spot us too easily. They’re also likely to spot pairs as well, especially if we’re helpin’ each other with the rucksacks. I ain’t seen too many zombies wearin’ rucksacks or carryin’ holdalls, have you?”
“OK, so what do we do now?” Ayla asked.
“We split up and take a different section of the airport each. We take our time and wait until the CCTV cameras are pointin’ in the opposite direction. We plant each device quickly and clear out. Then we move to the next one and so on. I just hope the other teams have spotted the CCTV’s and are clever enough to change their routine.”
“Don’t worry, Temel is clever enough,” Ayla asserted.
“I hope so for his sake,” Mamba replied. “We still meet back at the pub tonight as agreed, but I’m goin’ to stick ‘round and watch the fun.”
“Me too,” Ayla advised.
“And me,” Ahmed confirmed.
“I’m going back to the pub,” Basir advised. No surprise there.
“OK. We meet on the middle floor of that cark park,” Mamba ordered, pointing out of the window at a three-storey car park not far from them. “We should be able to se
e everythin’ from there. Basir, when we go out, I want ya to go left and drop your bombs off every few hundred metres. No quick movements, the actin’ needs to be good. Ahmed, Ayla, you follow me to the right and after you’ve dropped your bombs, you come back to this car park, middle floor.”
“What about the smaller bombs?” Basir asked.
“Remind me how they work,” Mamba ordered.
“Normally, they can be set off in one of two ways,” Basir explained, “either a delayed timer or following a large concussion. These ones have been set up for concussion and work as a secondary explosion when the main bombs go off. So, they have to be within about fifty metres of the main bomb.”
“The original plan was to chuck ‘em over the fence, but now I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mamba advised.
“Why?” Basir asked.
“’Cos someone might see us throwin’ ‘em ‘or someone might find ‘em.”
“Why don’t we just leave them next to the fence to create more holes?” Ayla asked.
Mamba though about it. “Yeah, good idea babes, let’s do it. Are ya ready?”
There were nods all around.
“Right, off ya go Basir. Be lucky.”
Basir cautiously left the office and shuffled in the direction of the airport fence. Where possible he tried to say close to other zombies and kept close to those heading in the same direction he was going. He wanted to get his part over and done with as quickly as possible then get back to the safety of the pub.
Mamba and Ahmed lit cigarettes as Ayla left the office ten minutes later.
“What do ya think of ‘er bro?” Mamba asked.
“I like ‘er and even better, she’s not scared of ya,” Ahmed replied.
“I’m a pussycat,” Mamba said.
Ahmed just shook his head.
“She’s a wild one, I’ll give ‘er that,” Mamba added, unconsciously rubbing some of the scratches and bite marks under his clothes.
“Really?” Ahmed replied, sarcastically. “I’d never have guessed, ‘specially with all that screamin’ goin’ on.”
“Yeah,” Mamba smiled wistfully, “that girl can’t half scream. If it was an Olympic event, she’d win Gold hands down. Maybe I oughta stuff ‘er face into a pillow to shut ‘er up.”
