Surviving the Fall: How England Died (11 page)

“Keep an eye on those vehicles, lads. Call any movement straight away.”

They were soon at the other side of the motorway, using the cars as cover, keeping an eye on the steeply climbing embankment that was their destination.

“What the hell is that?” said Singh. The noise that Allen had heard was now loud, filling the atmosphere with its mournful timbre.

“A good reason to keep sharp,” said Allen.

They were at the far side of the motorway, their path blocked by a large articulated lorry lying on its side. It had slid into the steep embankment, obviously at some speed as it was part buried in the Earth. For Allen to get past it to see the other side, he would either have to either climb the embankment, or over the truck. He preferred the truck.

“Give me a bunk up, Angus.”

Angus, a stocky lad from Manchester, helped the sarge up. Allen got a grip on the top of the cab and pulled himself onto the doors of the truck, which were now the roof. The cab was tilted forward, and Allen spread himself flat so as not to slide down.

Keeping himself tight against the metal, he centred himself and took a look out over the other side of the motorway.

“Shit…” He put his head down as flat against the cab as he could, and willed his body to freeze - he had to fight the urge to throw himself back off the top of the truck.

There were no cars on the other side, just empty road and zeds. Hundred’s of them, maybe thousands, moaning disparately, the source of the strange sound that had haunted the soldier’s approach. Allen held his breath as he worked hard to stay calm, and to perform an effective reconnaissance.

The zed’s walked aimlessly back and forth across the motorway, in and out of the woods that lined the road. The closest were only a few feet away, wandering to the trucks, wandering away, standing still.

A voice buzzed in Allen’s ear, it was Lewis. “Fuck me, how many are there, Jesus…”

“No more talking. Mark your distances, counts, any possible side routes, and get back to Dalby.”

A particularly loud moan echoed from just below Allen. He edged closer to look down and saw a man in a suit, the skin on the front of his face hanging off, one eyeball swinging against the exposed muscle of his cheek. The zed was standing right next to the cab, only a few feet below Allen. It was still, moaning loudly, and appeared to be searching, looking half up, almost sniffing the air.

Allen pushed back slowly from the cab, he had seen enough.

There was a loud bang as Allen’s back foot hit a loose wing mirror, which fell off and slid down the slightly inclined truck onto the motorway, right by the foot of the zed in the suit. It immediately looked up and on seeing Allen, let out a different type of moan; more desperate, more targeted.

Allen watched in horror as one zed after another tuned into this sound, and locked their heads in his direction. They turned one by one in a spreading wave that fanned out from the original zed. Within seconds, the ground below the cab was thick with zeds, all pushing against the truck, their arms in the air trying to get at Allen.

“Fall back,” he shouted, silence no longer required, “fall back!”

He jumped off the cab.

“Zeds, thousands of them. They spotted me. Fall back!”

Allen and his men ran quickly through the wrecks, back to their rendezvous point, where Dalby still stood with his hands behind his back, staring at the juggernauts.

“We have to fall back, Sir,” gasped a fast breathing Allen. “Thousands of hostiles, just past the trucks. No way we can get through.”

The rest of the recon crews were arriving.

“What happened sergeant?” said Dalby.

“I got spotted. I made a noise and one of them saw me. He let out a shout, a signal or something, and… well, you can hear it, sir.”

The sound of moaning from the other side of the trucks had reached a deafening crescendo.

Dalby snapped his head round to stare at Allen. “Careless, Sergeant, very careless. You have put all our lives in danger.” He looked at the trucks and the sides of the embankment. “Any way round?”

“Negative sir. We have to fall back.”

A tear appeared in the side of the tarpaulin of one of the central juggernauts, and a zed fell through. A few more appeared, stumbled over the fallen one, and staggered into the wrecked jungle of cars. The tear widened as more and more zeds pushed their way through.

Dalby raised his hand gun, aimed and fired. One of the zeds fell, it’s head splattering the tarpaulin red.

“Sergeant, fall back five hundred yards and circle into the woods. Let’s have a team laying some cover fire.”

Allen pointed to Walton, Angus and Jones, “Stay with me men, we’ll mark the retreat. Lewis, the wood on the side of the motorway we passed, about five hundred yards back? Take the rest of the man there, that’s where we’ll rendezvous”

Lewis started barking orders.

Allen and his team took up cover behind a van and aimed at the tear in the tarpaulin, now spread across the whole length of the truck. Zeds piled through, and within a short minute, at least thirty were now threading their way through the pile up.

Dalby joined Allen’s team, taking up position behind a car next to their van. “Thin them out, we’ll pull back a hundred yards, then take up positions again.”

“You heard the officer, lads, open fire!”

“This is more like it,” said Walton.

The air erupted in gunfire and zeds fell one after another. The tarpaulin was soon red, dripping in blood and flesh.

Within a minute, all the zeds had been cleared.

“Fall back men! One hundred yards. We’ll take up positions by that red truck,” shouted Allen.

The men ran back through the wrecks and fell in behind a red works van. They took up firing positions between it and a neighbouring white Range Rover.

During their retreat, more zeds piled through and spread through the pile up, following the soldiers with a stubborn single mindlessness that saw them pass through the wrecks with disregard for personal damage; arms where left behind, gashes opened in legs, heads torn.

“Open fire!” shouted Allen, and again the air filled with the crack of gunfire.

The zeds fell, but with less regularity as more shots went wide, the targets being obscured by the tangle of broken cars and trucks.

A voice buzzed in Allen’s ear, it was Lewis, “We’re clear sir, in the woods. No hostiles.”

“Ok Lewis, sit tight, we’ll be there soon.” The nearest zeds were only thirty feet or so away - with hundreds now following up from behind.

“Sir,” said Allen to Dalby, “Lewis has them in position.”

Dalby nodded. “Ok, Allen, let’s get out of here.”

“Ok lads, fall back, straight to the woods. Follow my lead.”

The men stopped firing and began to weave their way back through the wrecks.

Dalby found himself at the back of the retreat with Angus.

“Where now sir?” shouted Angus above the rapport of his rifle as he felled two zeds.

Dalby looked up and realised he had lost sight of Allen and the other men. He heard their shouts and their gunfire, but couldn’t see them.

Two paths through the pile up lay ahead - one to the right past a crumpled mini, and another round the side of a truck.

“This way,” he said, setting off to the left, past the truck. He glanced behind to see zeds closing in from numerous directions, their moaning a constant backdrop to the staccato percussion of gunfire.

Twenty feet in and he realised he had a mistake. The path round the back of the truck was blocked. Two cars had piled on top of each other - it was a dead end.

Behind him, zeds shambled along the path they had just taken - they were trapped.

Angus opened fire, shooting his rifle on automatic, spraying the zeds with bullets.

“Single shots dammit. Aim for the head,” shouted Dalby, but Angus ignored him, firing another short burst of automatic fire.

Dalby checked the ammo for his handgun, only half a clip left. He eyed the two piled up vehicles blocking his path.

Whilst Angus was keeping the zeds busy, Dalby pulled himself up by the bonnet of the top car. His feet flailed in mid air for a few seconds, but he was soon high enough to use his feet against the bumper of the lower car. He gave one final push and was on top.

The gun fire stopped, “Shit,” said Angus, his gun empty. Zeds piled towards him through the gap. He spun round to see Dalby on top of the vehicles.

Dalby reached down and held out his hand, “Come on Angus, I’ll get you up.”

Angus grabbed the Lieutenant’s hand and was pulled up a few feet. He was almost able to get his arms onto the top car’s bonnet, when he was grabbed from below by a pair of hands.

He let out a yell. Dalby felt Angus being jolted down. He tried to pull him back up, but slid along the bonnet of the top car.

Another pair of hands grabbed Angus, “Help me! Sir! Get me up, get me up!” shouted Angus.

There was another, more powerful jolt and the top half of Dalby’s chest was pulled over the bonnet of the car. One more jolt and he would be over.

“Shoot them!” yelled Angus, his eyes wide with fear.

The Lieutenant only had a few bullets left, bullets he may need. It was a simple matter of priorities - his life was more important than Angus’. If Dalby didn't get back, then the platoon would be leaderless.

He let of of Angus’ hand.

Angus only had a look of surprise for half a second, before a zed sunk its teeth into Angus’ skull and peeled off the skin from his head, clean. His yells were cut short as a hand plunged into the back of his neck and yanked on his spinal cord, giving him a quick and merciful death.

Dalby jumped off the car and landed on the tarmac. He looked around quickly to make sure no one was near, and punched the car nearest to him several times. He inspected the cuts on his knuckles, red and bruised. He scraped his forehead against a shard of broken glass from a nearby car door. Blood trickled down his face.

Satisfied, he ran towards the woods.

Chapter 4

Allen joined the rest of the platoon, sitting low in a deep impression in the woods, about fifty feet in from the motorway. Sentries were posted around the makeshift base.

“Everyone ok?” asked Allen.

“Affirmative sir,” said Lewis.

Allen nodded and joined the men, dropping his kit onto the floor. There was immediate relief in his shoulders. He sat down against a tree and opened his back pack.

There was the crack of branches from behind them, and the men as one raised their weapons. They lowered them as Dalby emerged from the trees.

“Five minutes, men, then we march.” He stood with his hands on his hips overlooking the platoon. “Angus didn’t make it.” The Lieutenant wiped the still flowing blood from his head. “I fell and got into a skirmish with one of the zeds. He saved my life. We’ve lost a good man.”

There was curses and moans from the men. Angus had been popular.

“Let me fix that up for you, sir,” said Walton, pulling out his medikit.

The Lieutenant nodded and sat down as Walton inspected the wound.

“This is real clean sir, what happened, glass?”

Dalby nodded. “Yes. Think I caught it as I fell.”

Walton shook his head, “Fuck these zeds.”

Allen took a drink from his canteen and pulled out the photo of his son from his kitbag. He shouldn’t have looked at it, he knew that. But the pain was worth seeing his face again. His mobile phone still showed no signal. He hoped Adam was in one of the safe camps.

“Ok, let’s move out,” said Dalby.

Allen picked up his kit again and they began to march.

They kept a wide perimeter around the motorway, and it was fifteen minutes before they saw their first zed.

“There, through the trees,” said Allen, crouched behind a fallen tree. The platoon came to a halt and waited for instructions.

Dalby said, “Lewis, take him with your knife, let’s keep it quiet.”

Lewis nodded and set out quietly towards the zed. He successfully sneaked up behind and sunk his knife into its skull.

Over the next two hours they saw no more than two or three at the same time, and they were dispatched quietly and efficiently. They made good progress, only stopping to check their position.

“Shall I take a team sir, scout up ahead?” asked Allen.

Without looking at Allen, Dalby held up his hand to halt the march of the platoon. “Yes, Allen, take three men.”

He took Lewis, O’Reilly and Singh. They used the trees as cover as they approached the location of Zone Lima Delta. The same despairing moaning noise as they had heard on the motorway filtered through the woods as they got closer to their destination.

The wood ended, and they crouched behind bushes that formed a boundary before a wide field that surrounded Zone Lima Delta, hastily erected on the site of an old airfield. Allen took out his binoculars and scanned the safe zone. A hundred yards ahead, was a large fence at least twenty feet tall, lined with barbed wire. Zeds amassed around the airfield fence, two or three deep in some places.

Allen reported his position over his com-link to Dalby and the rest of the platoon joined them a few minutes later.

“There must be a clear entrance, sir, around the zeds. Maybe an access road?”

Dalby nodded, and pulled out a large scale ordinance map that he spread across the floor.

“Singh,” said Dalby, “report our position to HQ and find out how we can get in Lima Delta.”

Singh pulled the radio out of his kit bag. “This is Charlie Romeo Fiver company,” he repeated a few times, before receiving an answer.

Dalby took the radio from Singh. “This is Lieutenant Dalby, where is entry point to Zone Lima Delta”

There was a pause, some static, and Dalby repeated his question.

“Negative, sir. There is to be no entry,” came the reply. “You are to report to extraction point X-ray. It is imperative that you reach extraction point by 1200 hours.”

The men looked at each other, confused.

“Repeat that,” said Dalby.

The voice on the other side of the radio repeated the same instructions.

Dalby shook his head. “What about the people in the airfield? The whole place is surrounded by zeds.”

Nothing but static.

“Dammit man, we’ve busted a nut getting here. X-ray is another two miles away. What the hell is going on?”

“Sorry sir,” came the reply. “You have been ordered to report to extraction zone X-ray by 1200 hours. I must repeat that it is of the utmost importance that you reach the extraction point by then.”

Dalby looked confused. “Why is it imperative?”

“Sir, you need to get away from Zone Lima Delta.”

Dalby’s eye’s opened wide in realisation, nodding slowly. “Operation Horsefly…” He whispered. Then, louder, “Is Operation Horsefly in effect?”

He waited for a full ten seconds before there was a reply. “Sir, I repeat you must evacuate the safe zone area, and proceed to extraction point X-ray immediately.”

“Ten four. Roger, out.”

Dalby passed the radio back to Singh.

“Ok men, we’re moving out, here.” He pointed to an old quarry about two miles away. It was only nine am, so they should get there easily before twelve.

The men kitted up, exchanging confused looks.

“What’s Horsefly?” asked Allen.

Dalby only gave him a fleeting glance as he pulled on his kit bag. “You don’t need to know. All you need to know is that we are leaving.” Dalby started walking, “Ok, men, move out!”

Most of the men followed Dalby, but a handful paused, looking at Allen who stood still.

“There are people in there,
sir,
” said Allen, pointing behind himself to the airfield.

Dalby stopped and turned to face Allen. “It doesn’t matter if the Queen of England is in there. We have our orders, Allen.”

“What’s Operation Horsefly? Why is it imperative that we get away from here?”

The platoon had stopped moving, everyone stood silent, still, watching the exchange between their Sergeant and Lieutenant.

Dalby took a few steps towards Allen. “Sergeant, I suggest you get in line immediately.”

“Horsefly… It’s a slash and burn isn’t it?”

Dalby paused a moment too long. Allen knew.

“It’s a God-dammed slash and burn. That safe zone is compromised, and instead of rescuing the people, we’re going to blow the airfield, is that it?” said Allen.

The soldiers looked at Dalby, waiting for his response. A few of the men stood up straight, their brows furrowed, the grip on their guns tight.

Dalby said, “The base is compromised. It must be neutralised. In three hours, anything within a mile of this location will be a ball of flames.”

“Dammit, Dalby, there are innocent people in there -
we put them in there!
” shouted Allen. My son could be one of them, he thought.

Subtly, the men moved, some towards Allen, most towards Dalby.

“Allen, I think you forget who you are,” Dalby shouted in return. “I’m the officer here, I have my orders, and we will follow them, is that clear?”

“We can’t just leave them there - I’m tired of killing our own people.” There was a few murmurs of angry agreement.

“Follow your orders, Sergeant!”

Allen snapped to attention, his arms by his side, staring straight ahead. “Sir, I respectfully decline to follow your orders. I request we mount a rescue mission of Zone Lima Delta.”

Dalby rubbed his brow and looked around the men. Four men stood with Allen, but the majority were standing behind him.

“This is not a fucking bike club, Allen, you can’t request anything. I am asking you once more to get your men in line.”

Allen stood still. “Sir, I respectfully decline your-”

He stopped speaking as Dalby raised his pistol and pointed it Allen, “This is direct insubordination in a hostile situation, Allen, I will not ask you again.”

Lewis raised his machine-gun and pointed it at Dalby. This started a chain reaction, and within seconds, several members of the platoon had raised their guns, two sides, Dalby’s and Allen’s, opposing each other.

Silence fell upon the company, the men breathed heavily, one of the soldiers was shaking, the nuzzle of his gun vibrating.

“We have a situation, sir,” said Allen, who remained still, his arms by his side, staring ahead.

Dalby looked behind him to confirm once again the number of guns on his side. “You are outnumbered Allen.” He raised his voice to address the men standing behind the Sergeant. “If you all put your guns down now, we can forget about this, I will only report Allen. The rest of you, it’s as if it didn’t happen.”

No one moved.

A loud rustle in the bushes by Dalby’s men caught everyone’s attention. There was a scream as one of Dalby’s men fell forward, a zed attached to his neck. Blood spurted in a crimson ribbon high into the trees. One of Dalby’s soldiers turned and fired. Another shot from another of Dalby’s men as a second zed emerged from the trees. Then a third, and a fourth. Within seconds the air was thick with gun fire as the soldiers on Dalby’s side worked to contain the sudden swarm of zeds whose excited moans filled the air.

Allen looked around him - Lewis, Walton, O’Reilly, and Singh stood by him, all watching for command. “Now!”

They ran from the clearing into the surrounding trees, in the opposite direction of the zeds. A bullet bounced off the tree by Allen’s head - their escape not having gone unnoticed.

They ran deeper into the woods, keeping their heads down and dodging through the trees as shots fired around them. Quickly the shouts from Dalby and his men became faint - they were too busy with the zeds to give proper chase.

Allen pulled his com-link from his ear, his mobile from his pocket, and a few other items of electronica from his kit bag as he ran. He threw them to the ground.

“Lose anything they can track us with,” he shouted.

They ran for fifteen minutes or so, putting some distance between themselves and Dalby. Allen called the men to stop, and they dived behind trees and shrub, scanning the woods behind them. No movement.

Allen looked each of the four men with him in the eye, one at a time, nodding to each.

Through heavy breaths, Lewis said, “What now sir?”

Allen looked at his watch. “We have just under three hours until they burn the place. So that’s plenty of time to rescue any civilians in there and get them a mile out. Last chance, anyone want out, go now and get extraction with Dalby.”

They all shook their heads.

O’Reilly said, “If I don’t save someone soon, I’m gonna top myself.”

“Ok, good.” Allen felt a swelling of pride in the four men that stood by him, his faith that there were still good people in the world restored.

“Ok Lewis, when was the last time you climbed a tree?”

Lewis smiled. “I must have been about twelve, sir.”

“Well, you’d best get remembering, I want you up that oak over there, right to the top. Take these,” he passed the binoculars to Lewis. “I want a full recon, tell me what you see. The rest of us, disappear into the woods, keep an eye on all approaches.”

The men scattered quickly and took up guard positions around the large oak.

After a few false starts, Lewis made quick progress up the old tree. He got over his initial nerves and was soon near the top, its boughs swaying gently in the wind but holding him well.

Satisfied he was high enough for a good view, he wedged himself in tight against the trunk and took out the binoculars.

He focussed in on the perimeter fence of the airfield, about a hundred metres away. A thin circle of zeds surrounded the fence. Some were trying to push through, but most just wondered aimlessly around the perimeter, as if they knew there was something in there they wanted, but not sure what.

The inside of the airfield was scattered with bodies and debris; it looked like the remains of a battle. The bodies mostly had bullet holes in their heads. What concerned Lewis, however, was the mass of zeds in the airfield.

The zeds were in both civilian and military uniform, suggesting the army hadn’t been able to protect anyone, even themselves.

The airfield had two runways running parallel to each other, upon which lay a few burning vehicles. In between the runways where a a number of buildings - three hangers, the control tower and a few nondescript brick buildings. Three planes, the size of small commercial jets, sat at the far end of the furthest hanger.

Zed’s swarmed around the buildings, the control tower in particular. He focused in on the distinct bulbous top of the tower and found the reason why. People, in civilian clothes, were on the roof. They were free of blood and the damaged flesh of zeds - they were alive. A large white sheet hung off the side of the roof.

It said - ‘SOS’.

He took a moment to wipe his eyes and focused in again. He estimated around twenty people on the roof, with a few children amongst them. Some of the people standing in the centre seemed to be focusing on the floor of the roof.