The Undead. The First Seven Days (38 page)

  We go back to the car and drive through, then decide to leave the barrier up, so that we can make a fast escape, if we need to.
  ‘So… why is there just a single barrier there, it doesn’t look that secure.’
  ‘There’s always two guards at every entrance.’
  ‘Armed guards?’
  ‘Yes.’
  We drive down the road and, after a few minutes, the buildings come into view. There are basic structures set around a massive drill square and, beyond the buildings, there is another road going into a vast, open area.
  ‘Are those the plains, over there?’
  ‘I think so.’
  ‘So… that must be where they do the tank training.’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Well - I don’t see any big vehicles here, so they must be somewhere else, out there maybe. SHIT!!! Look at that….’
  I stop the car and we both look down to the drill square and the hundreds of undead gathered round a single building.

  The undead are all facing into the building, indicating there must be survivors inside or that’s the place they saw a survivor.
  ‘I fucking knew it, what did I say? Every half hour something horrible happens. Fuck me, are they all soldiers?’
The entire undead massed horde are roughly dressed the same way - in green and brown camouflaged army uniform, of sorts. Some are wearing what looks to be battle dress with helmets on and twigs and branches stuck in the top. I reel back, amazed at the sight.
  ‘That’s a fucking army, that is - a fucking zombie army of the undead,’ I turn to look at Dave who is leaning forward and staring intently at the scene in front of us. None of the undead has seen us yet; we are still a way off from them.
  ‘I can’t see another way round Dave, the road just goes straight through them all.’
  ‘Look,’ Dave points at the building being surrounded by the undead, a window opens and a person leans out, waving something white at us.

  I get out and wave back; both my arms high up in the air.
  ‘Dave, we’ll have to do something, we can’t just leave them there.’
  ‘Okay, Mr Howie.’
   Dave gets out and we both stand and look at the scene in front of us.
  ‘Dave, do you know Morse code?’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
  ‘We could use the car headlights to signal to them, would that work?’
  ‘Yes.’
  I pull the car round, so that the front of the car is facing towards the building and then show Dave how to operate the high beam on the headlights.
  It’s daylight and very sunny, so hopefully the undead won’t see us; they’re all facing the other way anyway.
  ‘Got the idea, mate?’
  ‘I think so.’

  He gets into the driver’s seat and starts pulling at the headlight stick; quick on and off - then a longer on.

  ‘Okay, all yours, now, Dave – keep going.’
  ‘Okay.’

  He pauses for a few seconds, then looks up at me.
  ‘What do you want me to say?’
  ‘I…  I don’t know… oh… ask them how many there are in there?’
  ‘Okay,’ Dave starts pulling at the light stork and I watch the light flicker on and off, then I look back to the building and watch as the man with the white thing goes back inside.

‘Sir, there’s people over there, Sir… where are you?’
  ‘I am right here thank you, Private Cooke – now, what are you shouting about?’
  ‘Sir, there’s a car just come down the road, they’ve seen us.’
  ‘How did they see us, Private Cooke?’
  ‘Simon waved a hand towel at them, through the window.’
  ‘That’s very clever of Private Blowers, isn’t it… now, let’s have a look shall we?’
   Blowers comes out of the upstairs room and shouts down to the 2
nd
Lieutenant.
  ‘Sir, they are signalling us. I think it’s Morse code - they’re using the car headlights.’
  2
nd
Lieutenant Galloway-Gibbs goes into the room and watches out of the open window, trying not to look down at the hungry, zombie faces staring up at him.
  ‘Yes, I think you’re right Private Blowers. It does appear that they are trying to signal to us.’
  ‘Well… what are they saying, Sir?’
  ‘How the bloody hell should I know?’
  ‘You’re army intelligence Sir, every intelligence officer is trained in Morse code.’
  Galloway-Gibbs panics, thinking furiously.

He can’t admit that he doesn’t know Morse code, or they’ll find out he isn’t trained or even fully commissioned yet.
  ‘Yes, of course – well, some are, but not all of us though. Things have changed and evolved Private Blowers and umm… Morse code training is a specialist training skill that only a few get these days. I put in for it, of course, but you know what the army’s like, bloody waiting lists eh?’
  ‘Right… Sir, well how do we signal back?’
  ‘I’m in intelligence, Private Blowers, not a train signalman - use your imagination.’
  ‘I found this, Sir.’

Galloway-Gibbs turns to see Private Talley, holding a torch out in front of him.
  ‘He doesn’t know Morse code, Talley,’ Blowers tells him.
  ‘Oh…’ Talley lowers the torch and goes back out of the room.
  ‘DOES ANYONE KNOW MORSE CODE?’ Talley booms out into the hallway.

More of the men appear from rooms, looking sleepy and dishevelled.
  ‘What? Why?’ Darren Smith asks.
  ‘There’s a car up on the road, it’s using the headlights to signal to us, does anyone know Morse code?’
  ‘The officer will - he’s in intelligence. I thought they all got trained,’ Smith answers.
  ‘No, apparently not,’ Talley looks down as Tucker walks into the open hallway and looks up at him.
  ‘I used to do it at Scouts,’ Tucker offers.
  ‘Tucker, well done mate - come and have a go.’
  ‘It was years ago, though. I don’t remember it,’ He stammers, suddenly nervous.
  ‘Just try, Tucker,’ Smith shouts to him.

Tucker climbs the stairs and enters the room, behind Talley.
  ‘Tucker said he used to do Morse code in the Scouts, Sir.’
  ‘Well done, Private Tucker… where’s that torch?’ Talley hands the torch to Tucker who goes over to the window and looks out at the car’s flashing lights.
  ‘Errr… bloody hell, hang on,’ Tucker looks into the lens of the flashlight and presses the on button, then reels back from the retina burn of the bright light.
  ‘Tucker, you fucking idiot - shine it at them, not yourself,’ Talley shouts at him.
  ‘I was making sure that it works,’ Tucker replies, then points the flashlight at the car and starts pressing the light on and off, rapidly.
  ‘So, what’s he saying, Private Tucker?’ The officer asks.
  ‘I don’t know yet, Sir. I’m asking him to start the message again.’
  The car lights go off for a few seconds, then start blinking with short and longer bursts.

Tucker’s mouth moves as he tries to keep up with the letters being signalled to him.
  ‘Shit, I lost it - I need a pen and paper.’
  ‘Private Talley, go and get Private Tucker something to write with please.’

Talley shoots out of the room, calling for pen and paper, and returns, within seconds, armed with several pens and pads, from a nearby office.
  ‘Here you are mate.’
  ‘No, I’ll call out the letters and you write them down.’
  ‘Okay mate, ready when you are.’
  Tucker flashes back to the car, asking them to start again.

The car lights go out and then, after the seconds of pause, they start flashing and Tucker calls the letters out.
  ‘H… O…. W… M… A… N…. Y – oh, what does that spell?  He looks at Talley.
  ‘How many?’ Talley responds.
  ‘How many what?’ Galloway-Gibbs demands from Tucker.
  ‘I don’t know, Sir - that’s all he sent.’
  ‘How many of us - probably,’ Blowers says, without looking round.
  ‘Yes, thank you, Private Blowers, I am sure we could have worked that out for ourselves. Well Tucker - answer the man and make sure you tell him there’s an officer here as well.’
  ‘Can’t I just tell him there are thirteen of us, Sir?’
  ‘No, Private Tucker, you cannot. They need to know an officer of the British Army is in this building - so tell them.’

The officer stares at Tucker, just as Talley and Blowers shrug their shoulders. Tucker turns back to the window and starts flashing the torch again.

‘He says thirteen and something else - but I can’t make it out, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Okay, so there are thirteen of them in there? Wow, that’s a lot - why are they hiding and not fighting their way out?’
  ‘I don’t know, Mr Howie.’
  ‘There’s a lot of zombies, but still, thirteen of them and especially if they are soldiers. Right we need a plan,’ I look at Dave.
  ‘We could lead them away.’
  ‘No mate, it’s already late and it will take bloody hours to lure away a group like that, it would be nice to get through them and get one of those APS vehicles - and then come back.’
  ‘APC.’
  ‘Yeah… that’s what I meant - but we can’t get through them without a fight.’

I sense Dave looking at me. I think I have just used his favourite word and his ears pricked up; like a child being offered sweets. I can’t help feeling the urge too though. That feeling of battle is amazing - in the last two days I have become addicted to it. I start to smile and feel the adrenalin coursing through my system.
  ‘Well, Dave - a fight it is then.’
  There it is again, that small smile on his face - it lights him up. How can I say no to such a nice man?
  ‘Are we driving down or walking, Dave?’
  ‘Walk, then we can drop them as we go.’
  ‘Good idea chum, walking it is then – now, do I take the axe or not: axe or shotgun, axe or shotgun,’ I weigh both of them in my hands, trying to decide.
  ‘Take both, Mr Howie.’
  ‘You think so?’
  ‘You’ll need it when we get close, you won’t have time to reload.’
  ‘Fair point mate, both then.’
  I put the bag onto my back and tighten the straps, then drop the axe down, so that the head is resting on the top of the bag and the handle is hanging down.
  ‘Don’t trip up this time, Mr Howie.’
  ‘I won’t, mate.’
  ‘And if you do, try to shoot them this time.’
  ‘Okay, mate.’
   I take the plastic carrier bag that Dave fashioned into a shotgun cartridge holder and loop it through my belt, then I fill it with shotgun cartridges.
  ‘Are you taking the rifle or the other shotgun, Dave?’
  ‘The rifle, Mr Howie… and the knives.’
  ‘I thought you might.’
  Dave puts the
Tesco
fleece on and loads up the pockets with ammunition strips for the Lee Enfield .303 rifle.
  ‘Mr Howie, can I use your bag to put some ammunition in and my knives?’
  ‘Of course mate, no problem.’
  Dave goes behind me and I feel as he rummages about in the side pockets and puts ammunition in them. I turn my head as he slides his two favourite straight-bladed knives into the elastic mesh at the front of the bag.
  ‘Ready, mate?’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie. Just stay to my left please, so I can reload from your bag.’
  ‘Okay, got it.’
  We both take a long drink of water and then start walking down, towards the horde.

‘What the bloody hell are they doing? Are they mad?’ 2
nd
Lieutenant Charles Galloway-Gibbs shouts out in surprise, as the two men leave the car and walk towards them.
  ‘There’s only two of them, they will be slaughtered,’ he says, more to himself than the other men.

‘They’re armed though, Sir.’
  ‘What, with one gun each? Against hundreds of those things down there, they must be bloody mad.’
 
At least they are trying
, Blowers thinks to himself.

The road is set higher than the parade square and the building beyond and so we have to walk down a slope. I can’t help smiling at the absurdity of it. Two of us against an actual army of zombies, armed with one rifle, one shotgun, two knives and one axe. Fuck me, we must be mad. I chuckle to myself and Dave looks across.
  ‘Are you okay, Mr Howie?’
  ‘Oh, yes, mate, never felt better. Let’s start picking them off and then we can move left and spread them out a bit over that big car park and give those blokes inside a chance to break out.’
  ‘It’s a parade square.’
  ‘What is?’
  ‘That big car park, it’s a parade square.’
  ‘Oh, okay - we can spread them out over the parade square then… you picky bugger.’
  We both stop and Dave raises the rifle, then scans along the horde from left to right and then back to the middle. He looks down at the shotgun in my hands.
  ‘Just a bit closer.’
  ‘Okay mate, say when.’
  We walk for another few seconds, until Dave judges the distance is effective for the shotgun, then we both stop again and he looks at me.
  ‘Ready, Mr Howie?’
  ‘I always ask that?’
  ‘Oh, sorry.’
  ‘That’s okay mate. Ready, Dave?’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
  I raise the shotgun to my shoulder and fire both barrels into the crowd. As soon as the first barrel opens up, Dave is firing the rifle. I watch several of the undead drop from the spread of the shotgun pellets.