Dead Ahead (34 page)

Caleb reluctantly dropped the Nanigata with a dull clang onto the tarmac and the back door of the tank slowly opened; two soldiers stepped out, with rifles trained onto each of them, followed by an older man with a barrel for a belly and a moustache that took up most of his face, it must have been Michaels.

“Well done, Staff Sergeant, I’ll take it from here thank you,” Michaels said pompously and stepped slowly up to Cassie, “So, Miss Fosters, You really have given us quite the run around haven’t you? Been quite the thorn in our side,” Cassie didn’t answer, “You do know that you are responsible for the deaths of many of the men under my command don’t you? All of this, all of it, is because of you!” he said getting heated, “We could be safe and sound inside of the bunker right now, couldn’t we? But no!
You
decided that you knew better, you even turned several of my troops against me, created an uprising before my very eyes and destroyed all that I had built! You, you are a vile temptress and you must be tamed!” Caleb could see Cassie’s arm twitch as she tried to stop herself from laying a fist into Michaels’ face, “And you
will
be tamed, Miss Fosters, believe me, you
will
be
tamed
!”

Michaels took a step to the side, “And then we have the traitor, a man so repugnant that he would turn his back on his own country for the sake of a woman!”

“I turned my back on
you
....” Ethan shouted, “....you bast....” Knox stepped forward and laid a crushing blow to Ethan’s chest knocking him to his knee and the wind out of him, the big guy winced as he delivered the blow though; he was bleeding heavily from a wound low on his right shoulder.

Michaels seemed satisfied with the result and stood over Ethan, “I sentence you to death for your betrayal, soldier, you will stay on your knees where you belong!”

He then stepped over to Greg, “Ah, Mr Woodward, it can only be god’s will that you have survived this far where so many have fallen in your stead. I would happily have you killed for
your
betrayal, but I feel that we may have some need for you in days to come, you may live; I can’t, however, promise that it will be much of a life for you, you will be little more than a servant to me, but I have a feeling that a coward like you would accept this curse gratefully. Would you not?” Greg did little more than bow his head to look at his feet.

“What a reunion we have here!” Michaels bellowed dramatically turning away from them and waving his hands in the air like he was conducting a grand symphony, “I do love reunions; and speaking of reunions.... Barnes, retrieve Miss Fosters father from the Land Rover!”

Cassie started at the sudden revelation.

The soldier climbed into the back with a grimace and rattled about for a minute or so until he appeared from the back dragging a sorry excuse for a human being behind him on a lead; the shredded rags of clothes hung from his stooped frame and where skin was visible there were deep lacerations in his flesh, his grey hair was wild and he had a good growth of beard, Caleb could smell a strong scent of excrement from him as he was tugged in their direction; the smell reminded him of his parents house. Cassie was visibly shocked by the sight of her father and as she stepped forward Caleb noticed the pistol tucked into the back of her belt.

“Dad,
Dad!
” she shouted, but her father’s wide eyed stare was ever distant.

“We don’t know what happened to him,” Michaels said mirthfully, “he was attacked by one of the swift buggers, but it didn’t eat him, it just toyed with him a little, it was the damndest thing; he hasn’t spoken since.”

“Dad...?” Cassie said tentatively taking another step forward putting the pistol just out of Caleb’s reach, “can you hear me, Dad?” her father seemed to stir from the slumber in his mind.

“Cass.... Cassandra, is that you?” he said in a withered voice, raising a stump of an arm towards her; the flesh burnt and blistered from recent cauterisation.

“Yes, Dad, it’s me! Oh, Dad, what happened to your hand?” she asked with tear filled eyes.

“Oh, Cassie, you shouldn’t have come, you shouldn’t have come,” he sobbed, “Go!” he burst out flailing his hands in the air wildly, “Go now, run!”

Knox just swatted him to the ground and grabbed Cassie, spinning her round so his arm was around her neck; she struggled ferociously and skilfully, using many techniques that Caleb himself would have used to try and free himself from the same situation, but ultimately Knox was too strong, and with some struggle held her there.

“Take Miss Fosters into the TC, Knox,” Michaels ordered, “Barnes, take Mr Foster and Mr Woodward into the TC also, tie them together.

“Now, what do we do with you two?” Ethan pulled himself to his feet and gave Michaels a murderous stare, “Turn around! Both of you; turn around and face the fence.

Both Caleb and Ethan stood their ground.

“Boys....” Michaels said in a menacingly calm tone.

Two of the soldiers stepped forward the more slender, almost weak looking lad came for Caleb whereas the larger one stepped around the side of Ethan; both of them took a crack to the back of their legs dropping them to their knees, they were then dragged round to face the fence.

As sharp stones dug into Caleb’s knees he watched the Infected swarm outside of the gate, having their prey so close was driving them into a frenzy, the constant swarming mass was only flawed in one part and it drew Caleb’s eye; one of the creatures wasn’t moving, it just stood there staring, staring right at Caleb. It bared its teeth as Caleb stared back; it looked to be snarling with its blackened twisted face, or was it a smile?

Caleb looked closer to this strange Infected. Was it an infected? It didn’t look quite the same as the others. It was wearing camouflage clothing though it was burnt away in areas, it had one hand behind its back and one hand on the gate, no, it was on the gate latch; slowly it slid the blot to the side, not quite all the way. Caleb looked back to the creatures face.

“Prepare to fire on my command!” Michaels shouted.

‘It can’t be’
Caleb thought.

“Ready”

‘It’s the ears that give it away’

“Aim”

Frank gave Caleb a cheeky wink before he slid the bolt all the way open.             

Chapter

27

Army of the Dead

It was still dark when Frank had pulled his broken and burnt carcass from the cold waters of the lake and slumped himself on the grassy verge. He was feeling faint from the loss of blood; the icy water had pulled at the blood flow from the wound in his shoulder as he swam to the shore pushing him dangerously close to passing out.

‘Speak to me my brethren,’
he begged the angels but received no response. Frank felt abandoned. Had he failed them, was that why they refused to speak?
‘Never mind the Angels,’
he thought, though not too loudly, he had a direction,
‘I know your plans you treacherous fool’.

Frank had managed to sneak back after being chased into the night by the men who had come to Caleb’s aid, Caleb made for a very poor watchman, especially when talking to women. He knew every detail of their plans now, and he had a head start on them. The thoughts gave him renewed vigour and he craned himself back to his feet; he felt every movement he made due to the burns and blisters over his face and body, the cold soothing of the lake had blanketed him from the pain in his shoulder but he felt it in full force now, with what scraps were left in his small clear plastic medical bag he dressed his wound; he shook himself off and started walking away from the lake; the sun wouldn’t be long in rising and he had a very long way to go.

As the sun rose above the hills behind him, Frank approached a small town called Hawkshead; the name struck a chord with him, he had always had an affinity for place names, he would spend hours just pouring himself over maps as a child, imagining visiting all of these strange and wonderful places but never actually being able to because of his mother; but even when his mother left him he never ventured very far, until now that was.

He was out on a grand adventure for justice, to avenge himself against the man who had twice tried to kill him; justice, honour and right was on his side, even God himself blessed Frank and his cause, the day would be his in the end.

It was in the outskirts of Hawkshead that Frank found the bicycle; a simple purple framed thing with a dozen rust patches all over it; he found it cast to the side of the road next to what looked to be a large patch of blood that the rain had tried and failed to wash away, ‘
such is the stain on my heart,’
Frank thought and pondered for a while just looking down at what had been the fall of one of the sinners, a climactic moment in their old life and a start of a new one.

He turned his attention back to the bike, it had gears and the wheels turned, that was all he needed. It had been years since he had ridden a bicycle, but as the saying would suggest, it wasn’t long before he was screaming down the hills and hopping off of kerbstones. As he coasted along the roadways Frank felt like a child again, and it reminded him of the feeling of freedom that only youth can bring; maybe it was just the cooling breeze on the blistered scabs on his face? But it gave him more pleasure than he had felt in a very long time.

The Angels were silent again. Frank actually felt at peace without them,
’don’t think too loud, they will hear!’
He cleared his mind and simply peddled on, heading for the coast, after which he would head up towards Sellafield, he wasn’t sure exactly where it was but he knew it was on the coast and north of where he would meet the sea.

The blow took Frank completely unawares, the sun was dipping towards the horizon in front of him and he could see the sea; all the joy had been sapped from him by the arduous cycle towards the shoreline, his buttocks and legs burned deep into the muscle as well as the flesh, his arms ached too. Why did his arms ache, they weren’t even doing the pedalling, were they?

He and his attacker tumbled to the grassy verge and rolled into a ditch where Frank managed to throw them up and into the fence above, it squealed with anguish as its flesh wrapped around the barb wire and trapped it there in writhing agony. Frank heard footsteps back up on the road and pulled himself from the squelching mud of the ditch. Six, no, seven Infected were prowling upon the road above him, the bike was a good fifteen feet away and lying tangled between the spokes of the front wheel was his pistol. The one closest to him let out a heart shuddering
‘Scraw’
as its pale eyes fell upon him, still screaming it ran towards him alerting the others to the chase, his only chance was to make it to the pistol before they did; his feet slipped on the mud as he scrambled out of the ditch, his burnt hands dug into the soft verge sending clumps of dirt into his overly long fingernails. They were too close, he was never going to beat them to the pistol but Frank still ran towards them, he let out a war cry as his feet pounded the road, his throat was sore; he hadn’t actually spoken since the fall into the fire and his scream sounded as frayed as that of the Infected, upon hearing it they stopped suddenly just inches away from the bike. The lead Infected stepped slowly forward making a strange clicking and croaking noise, Frank froze.

It circled him, still clicking and croaking it made a quick strike, the strike wasn’t anywhere close to hitting; it seemed to be challenging him. Did they think he was one of the Infected too? What would happen if he lost the fight, what if he got bit? Frank took a step towards the gun and the Infected saw this as acceptance to its challenge. It lunged at him with both hands, he ducked low and pushed at its chest sending it falling backwards over the bicycle, Frank leapt upon it, pinning it down with his feet while he fumbled with the pistol; it squirmed and writhed beneath him and wriggled its self free, the pistol was caught between the spokes, the infected crouched and prepared to leap, the gun wouldn’t budge.

As the Infected launched its self into the air, teeth bared and poisoned saliva dripping from its lips, Frank pulled the bike on top of himself with the front wheel up to his face, pistol pointed upwards; the Infected landed upon the frame and dove its hands towards his face through the spokes, fingers probed towards him trying to get at his eyes. Frank turned the wheel and carefully aimed.

The shot rang out and the Challenger collapsed in a heap on top of him, Frank threw the carcass and the bike to the side and leapt to his feet pointing the pistol at the remaining Infected, they stood all around him but didn’t move, if anything they looked sheepish.

Frank was more confident now with a gun in his hand, he mimicked the Infected that had challenged him, ‘Scrawing’ as loud as he could and marching around the other six whom now refused to move. Unsure of what to do next, Frank walked away from them; and they followed, by the Angels they were following him, not stalking him as prey but following as they would a leader, a master.

It wasn’t long before Frank and his followers encountered another band of infected, a larger one this time but still only one challenger, Frank ‘Scrawed’ back at the challenger then simply blew a hole in its head. He encountered more and more groups till he had such a following that he didn’t have to fight any more, groups were simply joining his army of the dead; a mass of Infected with a gargantuan tribe of Husks that trailed in their wake.

They marched through the night and arrived at the power plant well before dawn; there was already a mass of undead waiting there to be recruited to him, attracted by the sound of the siren from the plant; and with them his army became a truly devastating force, willing to follow him and him alone.

‘We have delivered unto you an army which cannot be defeated, deliver unto us the one they call Caleb and you shall be an Angel again!’

The words echoed in Frank’s head above the chaos around him, it wouldn’t be long before Caleb and his spawn came here. What sights he would show them.

Frank saw the strange looking truck as it approached from the north; it stopped on the road with the beach to one side and the plant to the other. It was not the vehicle that he had been expecting. This would make his job a lot harder than he thought.

Frank had tried to find a vantage point that would give him a good view of the whole plant but the land around it was far too flat, and so he had found himself circling the plant in hope that he would be in the right place when Caleb made his approach, and with the Angel’s luck he did.

The tracked vehicle stopped at the North West corner for a few seconds then plunged its self on to the beach tearing across the sand going hell for leather towards the south; it wasn’t till it started firing rockets that Frank noticed the smaller vehicle attempting to infiltrate the power plant.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Frank said quietly to himself, “Caleb is
mine!
”

Frank let out a ‘Scraw’ to rally his troops, he had been improving his technique and the nearby Infected quickly circled round, another ‘Scraw’ and he ran southward, his army blindly following, he would see them feast before the day was out.

As Frank ran surrounded by his minions, a dark cloud passed over and heavy lumps of hail fell from the heavens while the tracked vehicle rained fire upon the small buggy crawling up the beach. With an almighty crash the Angels sent a lightning bolt down upon the plant, scattering his minions and sending them streaming ahead of him. An army Land Rover passed them by, crushing many of his devoted followers and ploughing through the fence much further up ahead; Frank regretted that he wasn’t as fast as many of the Infected who seemed to be able to run without tiring, by the time he had made it to the breach in the fence he had been left behind by the Infected and they were already swarming in and around the plant.

Frank called them back to him and reluctantly some of them made their way back; he had to do something about discipline, he picked up a piece of broken fence and moved towards the last Infected to return to him,
‘time to see just how much intelligence actually remains within these creatures,’
he thought as he drove the metal spike into its brain.

As he looked round to see if his message was sinking in, Frank spotted Caleb running away from him, he also spotted the tracked vehicle rounding the corner giving chase, but as he was about to give the order to follow, the building heaved before his eyes and sank violently into the ground essentially cutting frank and his army off.

‘They will be looking for an exit now,’
Frank thought, ‘
that is where they will find
me!
’

Through gaps in the fence Frank saw Caleb and his small group of friends hiding and skipping between buildings, and through the gap in the gate he saw his army strike fear into their hearts. Frank watched Caleb’s capture and their imminent execution, but Caleb wasn’t theirs to kill, he was Frank’s. The recognition in Caleb’s eyes was a delight as he slid the bolt to the side; and with relish Frank released his army upon them.

_________________________

The gate burst open and a torrent of the dead flowed through the opening towards them, Caleb thought that he heard Michaels shout ‘fire’ but the guns had started anyway; Caleb ducked and rolled backwards away from the advancing dead. Heavy calibre rounds tore through the cascade of rotting flesh pushing them back, but not for long, wave after wave plunged into the battery of rounds as more guns took up against the flood, dropped bodies crawled towards Caleb with slavering faces. His trembling hand reached blindly for the Naginata and found the smooth ebony wood beneath his fingers, he swung the blade, slicing the rabid face in two and rolled back again amongst the soldiers.

As Caleb took a fighting stance the gunfire receded, the soldiers weren’t where Caleb had imagined; they were retreating, and they were leaving him behind. Caleb knew that if he turned his back on the Infected now that he would be run down and eaten, he had to make a stand, a last stand if need be.

He braced for their attack, he would soon be surrounded and there was nothing he could do. The engines of the vehicles roared and disappeared under the sound of the Infected, a rife melody of croaks and rasping throats encircled him; he turned the Naginata blade so that he could use the reflection in the stained blade to see behind him and caught a glance at the Land Rover disappearing as the Infected closed in around him.

The first Infected attacked giving the cue for each and all of them to make their advance, Caleb swung the blade in wide circles catching as many of them as possible with each slash of the cold steel, but with each impact it slowed the blade forcing him to turn and redirect it often missing the main target and pushing him to make a stab at the closest creature to him; that in turn allowed them to close in further. In a drastic move Caleb decided to swing the blade low in several spins to strike at the legs of the infected and clearing them from around him; he knew that this would only create crawling Infected and not neutralise the threat but he needed time, the Naginata wasn’t the weapon he needed to tackle this many of them.

With the spare time he so expensively bought, Caleb unscrewed the shaft of the Naginata and cast it to the side turning the staff into a short sword, with his other hand he drew the machete from its sheath and spun it till it was beneath his other arm and pointed behind him, the other blade above his shoulder ready to strike. This was what he needed, the flexibility to strike at any two points around him in a slash or stab, he looked to the Infected who only just now seemed to be regrouping,
‘Bring it on,’
he thought to himself with a smile,
‘If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die laughing!’