Ridgetown: A zombie apocalypse novel (20 page)

The wall in front of her had rifles and shotguns hanging on hooks, each with a thick black outline painted around it. The guns were behind a cage that had been fashioned out of multiple layers of thick chicken wire. The joints were crudely but effectively welded together and the front was split into two pieces, held together by a thick chain threaded through it and fastened with a thick padlock that Mark had unlocked.

"We keep them locked up because they make a lot of people feel uneasy. We voted as a community and about half said they would be more comfortable if they were kept under lock and key, most others said they weren't bothered either way so it seemed like an obvious thing to do."

"That sounds really sensible, I think I'd have to agree."

Mark split the guns into two piles and strapped them together.

"Can you carry one if I take the other?"

"No problem, I'm not gonna shoot myself in the leg if I fall on my butt, am I?"

"No, none of them are loaded. Which reminds me, I'll split the ammo into two bags as well."

As Mark finished filling the second bag, they heard the explosion. Mark shot a concerned look at Helen.

"That was the car bomb. Either it's gone off by accident or the horde has reached it already, neither of those is a good thing. We need to get back to the gates."

Helen followed Mark to the entrance and watched how he climbed down, copying his method to make sure she got down as quickly and carefully as possible. They jogged back towards Liz's house, Mark with a hurried urgency that Helen managed to match despite how cumbersome the guns made it. They could see the smoke rising in the near distance, billowing into the sky like a warning signal. Helen hoped that Ryan and Allister were okay, Mark's concern wasn't very reassuring.

When they reached the gate near Liz's, a couple of people she didn't recognise were already waiting. Mark began to unpack the guns as he asked for an update.

"Has anyone spoken to Ishaq? Has he heard from Ryan or Allister?"

Luke came running over to Mark as if he had heard him asking.

"Ryan's dead."

Everyone within earshot stopped what they were doing and was silent for a moment. When it was apparent no one was going to speak, Luke continued.

"He and Allister had set up the car bomb but it didn't go off when the horde reached it. Allister said they were watching from a safe distance and Ryan said the detonator must have failed. He asked what they should do next and Ryan didn't say anything, he just stood up, gave a smile and ran towards the car. Allister said he watched Ryan hack at a bunch of zombies as he fought through them towards the car and jumped inside."

"Was he bitten?"

Helen didn't recognise the voice, a male, but he sounded concerned.

"I don't know but Allister said two of those leapers started attacking the car shortly after Ryan got in. He must have set the bomb off manually, from the inside. Took both the leapers and a decent chunk of the horde with him."

Despite trying to sound upbeat about the number of zombies Ryan had taken out, Luke sounded choked up and on the verge of tears. Helen felt like she barely knew Ryan but even she felt gutted about the news, she could see by the look of loss and devastation on everyone's faces that he was very popular.

"What about Allister?" Mark asked.

"Don't know. He didn't contact again. Ishaq keeps trying to contact him but he's not responding. He's either gone dark or...."

Luke let his sentence trail off instead of finishing it. He didn't want to add to what was already a mourning group.

"Right." Mark climbed on a nearby table and addressed the crowd. "Just like I feel about most of you, Ryan was like a brother. Now is not the time for his eulogy, he deserves more than a few words before a battle and he'll get it. But you all know as well as I do that he would be livid if he thought he had made such a big sacrifice just for us to blow it by moping round following his loss. He'd be expecting us to kick some ass and that's exactly what we're going to do."

Someone cheered in agreement.

"We're going to stop these things before they even get inside our town."

Another cheer, this time by a couple of people.

"And it's not just in memory of Ryan or Allister, it's because we've built this place and it's our home. Let the loss of anyone you've loved spur you on to fight harder, but fight because we deserve to live and no one or nothing is going to take our home from us!"

This time, everyone cheered and even Helen felt herself getting caught up in Mark's encouragement. She felt energised and ready to fight, ready to defend this place that was beginning to feel more and more like somewhere she could see herself living.

People ran around, handing out weapons to each other, reinforcing walls and gates, keeping a look out for the horde. Helen didn't really know what to do, she wondered whether she should find Liz and tell her about Ryan incase she didn't already know but decided she would be needed here more.

As if on cue, Helen heard her name being mentioned. She looked up to the platform in front of her where Mark was talking to an older man, around the same age as Dennis, but more frail looking. He was holding one of the rifles they had brought from the house and Mark was passing him another. When Mark saw Helen looking at them, he beckoned her over.

She lifted herself onto the platform that was just above waist height and stood between them. Instantly, she could see clearly over the wall but was still protected by it up to her chest. She scanned the surrounding area, looking for any sign of the approaching horde or even a single zombie.

"This is Tom. He's going to show you how to use one of these rifles, I really think you'd be able to keep your cool."

"Nice to meet you Helen, wish it could have been under better circumstances."

Helen was surprised at how polite and well spoken he sounded. Tom had a weathered face topped with grey, nearly white hair, kept quite short at the back and sides and allowed to grow a bit longer on top despite it starting to thin. Unkempt stubble added to the aged look along with an ill-fitting body warmer and oversized shirt underneath. She expected him to sound a bit rougher, purely based on how he looked, making her feel slightly embarrassed she had judged him so quickly.

Mark continued, "I'm going to go and check on where the rest of the town is up to while Tom shows you how to shoot. I'll be back though, so don't worry."

That last comment earned him a raised eyebrow from Helen.

"I understand that sounded a bit condescending." He was deliberately speaking slowly, as if through thick glass, to make himself sound like he was talking down to her. "I don't really know how to fix that so I'm going to run away for a bit." He bowed his head and backed away as if he was keeping eye contact with a wild animal whilst trying to escape.

His idiotic behaviour worked and Helen cracked a smile, despite trying her best not to. "Just go. Before I start using idiots for target practice."

Helen suddenly remembered about the seriousness of the situation and the loss of Ryan and felt guilty. She turned her attention back to Tom and focused herself again.

Tom gave a reluctant smile as he gave her a rifle.

"Any kind of experience with a firearm at all? Clay pigeon shooting or anything like that?"

"I've been paintballing and used a bb-gun but I've never even touched a real firearm."

"Okay, well this is going to be a bit of a crash course. It's not that difficult, I'll stick to the basics and you'll be fine. Mark sang your praises saying how clever you are so I'm not worried about you taking it in."

Helen couldn't help but feel flattered by the compliment, dismissing it for the moment.

"We found these rifles in a farmhouse not far from the canal. They're Remington 700s, not too sure if the farmer was meant to have them but they're pretty sturdy rifles. These have extended magazines and can hold up to five bullets but I want you to load one at a time to get used to reloading."

Helen gently took the rifle from him, surprised how much lighter it was than she was expecting it to be.

"Okay, the safety's on so pull the bolt handle down and back like so..."

Helen watched Tom and repeated his actions exactly, always conscious of where she was pointing the barrel, paranoid she was going to accidentally shoot someone inside the estate.

Tom showed her how to load a bullet and ready it to fire, leaning the forestock on the wall in front of them.

"The main thing I want you to concentrate on is your aiming. Use the scope. Look through it but don't put your eye right up against it, the recoil when you fire will make it hit you in the eye."

The warning resonated with her and she began to panic she was going to blind herself as well as shoot herself. She tried to calm down and not let her mind wander, the last thing she wanted to do was stop listening because she was distracted.

"The second thing I want you to do, which will help with the first thing, is control your breathing. This place is going to go crazy very soon, people are going to be shouting, screaming, fighting.... possibly even dying. Those creatures are going to be groaning and screeching and your heart will be going a hundred miles an hour. You know the score, I've heard how you held your own against the horde, that's what's kept you alive. The only thing is, when you're looking down a scope, you can't see all of that. You're going to have to keep your cool and rely on us to keep you safe while you shoot. Slow your breathing and hold your breath when you fire. Don't waste your shots, make every one count."

Helen could feel her nerves building already, she didn't want to show herself up and definitely didn't want to let anyone down.

"Once you've fired, pull the bolt back and it will spit the casing out for you."

Helen pulled the bolt back and the loaded bullet dropped to the floor making a ringing noise with every bounce. Helen felt flushed with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, you're getting nervous. Take these three bullets and have a practice now. Don't worry about noise because we're already expecting visitors."

Helen took the bullets and instantly realised she didn't know what to do. It had seemed obvious when Tom was explaining everything but now she was left to do it herself, she couldn't remember the first step. While she tried to remember, she placed the bullets on the wall and looked out at something to target.

"From here, you should be okay aiming at something about three hundred metres away. Try aiming for one of those green bins down the road, near the playground."

Now she had something to aim for, it was time to load the rifle and Tom's instructions suddenly came back to her.

She loaded the rifle confidently, each movement reminding her what to do next. She looked at Tom for reassurance that she had done it right to which he smiled and nodded. As she raised the rifle, she thought about resting it on the wall as Tom had done but decided against it when Tom didn't say anything. She quickly tensed her arms and compensated for the weight of the gun, resting it on her shoulder for support.

"You're a natural." Tom commented.

It dawned on Helen that Tom hadn't actually shown her how to hold the rifle and she hadn't made a conscious effort to pay attention when he had held it up explaining about the sight. It was similar to how she had held the paintball gun but the extra weight gave it more balance.

She pointed the gun towards the bin and looked through the scope, closing her other eye. The magnification was a lot stronger than she was expecting and she wasn't sure what she was looking at, all she could see was darkness. She lowered the weapon and looked where she thought she was aiming. She looked through the scope, keeping her other eye open this time. Still seeing darkness, she moved the rifle slowly from side to side until she glimpsed something shining. She realised the darkness she was aiming at was a black car that had been abandoned behind the bin.

Relieved that she wasn't looking in completely the wrong direction, she followed the edge of the car and found the green colour of the bin. Helen made a conscious effort to slow her breathing and tried to steady her shaking hands. She picked the largest part of the bin to fire at, using this opportunity to familiarise herself with how it feels to fire the rifle rather than concentrate on pinpoint accuracy. Tom's earlier warning of the scope recoiling into her face still played on her mind.

She inhaled slowly through her nose and breathed out even slower through her mouth. She inhaled again, this time holding the breath in. She readied herself for the recoil as she was about to squeeze the trigger.

"Don't let anything distract you."

Helen physically jumped as Tom spoke loudly into her ear. She nearly fired off a shot accidentally, not really sure how she didn't. She lowered the rifle to find Tom grinning at her, she couldn't help but draw a comparison to how Mark grinned when he was teasing someone. Without saying anything she shouldered the rifle again and looked through the scope, this time seeing the green colour of the bin instantly. Tom spoke again, although she wasn't expecting him to speak again, Helen held her reserve and kept aiming.

"Remember not to pu...."

Before he could finish, Helen fired. The recoil not as powerful as she expected, maybe because she was so tensed in preparation for it, but it was enough for her to lose her target. She quickly found it again knowing that it would be important to do so when the horde arrived.

She scanned the area around the bin, looking for a smaller target. She knew what to expect when she fired and felt like she could compensate for the recoil. She surveyed the area around the bin that was pushed up against a short brick wall. Next to the green bin was a larger recycle bin which was overflowing, bottles stuck out of the opening where people had convinced themselves that one more bottle would fit. When there was physically no more room to stuff empty bottle into the bottle bank, people had begun to line them up on top of the brick wall behind.

Seeing the empty bottles lined up like at a shooting gallery gave Helen her next target. She lowered the rifle and reloaded, just as Tom had shown her. She raised the rifle again and picked a brown coloured wine bottle that stood between two clear bottles. Her arms were starting to ache from holding the rifle up so she took a moment to rest the rifle on the ledge in front of her. Doing so doubled the steadiness of the rifle and gave her arms some respite so she decided to keep the position to fire. She had kept the rifle pointing in the same general area and didn't take long to find the bottle again. She readied herself for any kind of sudden noise and began to slow her breathing. She held a breath in and fired.