“It’s nothing to do with us being heroes,” Mark, another of the survivors from the U-boat murmured from his seat close to the steering controls. “It’s about our own survival. We can’t move this ship, but
they
can.”
“That’s not for definite.”
“Well, we know that they have at least two members of the merchant navy with them. That’s two more than we have here. There’s close to two-hundred of them, and there’s always a chance they might have some old sea-dog with them who knows the ship’s engines. If we want to get this ship out of here and down to the Azores as suggested, we’re going to need people who may know how to do it because I haven’t a clue. Have you?”
“I never said anything about the Azores. That was Taff’s idea. I still think we should head for Norway or Iceland. Somewhere cold enough to leave those fuckers frozen stiff and completely immobile. And besides, there’s too many assumptions, possibilities, and hopes involved with them. They might just be waffling out of desperation, saying that they
can
get a ship moving, if need be.”
During their radio conversations, Stan had asked particular questions. He had refrained from making it too obvious that they were on a ship and made veiled references to an island. They were unwilling to give their exact location and any details on their situation. Instead, Stan asked questions about their capabilities of using large boats or ships to ferry their group out to the ‘island’. When the response came back positive, the team saw it as a possibility that someone amongst them may know how to work the ferry’s engine and get it moving.
“Either way, we need them to help us, and we need to get them over here. We can’t get this ship moving but they might.”
“They might
not
know.”
“Fucking hell, Kyle,” Mark huffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re an obnoxious and obstructive cunt at times.”
“No, I’m a realist. We’re placing too much hope in a bunch of strangers. You can hope in one hand and shit in the other, Mark. Get back to me, and let me know which one filled up first,” Kyle snapped.
He paused and looked around at the others. He had never been afraid to help other survivors, but he felt that there was too much of a risk with this particular plan. The distances involved alone led him to believe that it was inevitable that something would go wrong.
“We’re alive here, and when did we become Samaritans?”
“Since the world went to rat shit, and living people found themselves at the bottom of the food chain,” Bull grunted. “We have a handful of people here, and we’re still missing skillsets that we’ll need. If we want to survive and build a life for ourselves, we need to put our necks on the line now and then. As far as I’m concerned, it’s worth the risk.”
Everyone in the room was now watching Bull. He had straightened up from his disinterested, slouched position by the large window. His massive size was dominating the area and the people around him, and his piercing eyes and frightening scars were commanding their attention.
“And besides, I’m getting low on golf balls,” he added with a shrug.
Everyone fell silent for a few moments. They were watching Stan, waiting for his decision. They all wanted the same thing. Living on the ship for all eternity was never a real option. The ferry was falling apart around them, and at some point they would need to either head for land or find a replacement vessel. Either way, action needed to be taken. Although many of them agreed with some of what Kyle was conveying and the need for self-preservation, they also understood that they could not continue without the help of others. Their group had accomplished near enough everything that it was capable of on their own and now, they needed to enlist the help of others if they wished to progress any further.
“Okay, we’re going out there,” Stan announced, sitting up in his chair and turning to the veteran. “Are the vehicles good to go?”
Kyle shrugged. Stan was referring to the two SUVs that were sitting just in from the shoreline, sheltered and away from the harsh sea air. The team had always kept them prepared and serviced, fully loaded with supplies, and ready for the team’s use whenever they needed to travel to the mainland.
“Of course. They’re always good to go.”
“Be ready to move by twenty-three hundred,” Stan said, issuing his warning order and climbing up from his seat. He paused, eyeing each of his team, and then turned to his second in command. “Taff, get comms with Charlie and let him know. Orders will be at eighteen hundred, so go get your shit together and carry out your personal battle-prep. It’s over a hundred kilometres inland from the coast, and I’d like to be in position by last light tomorrow.”
7
They had waited for almost the whole day, unwilling to take any chances, and inadvertently thwarting all prospects of reaching safety through a premature escape attempt. It would soon be dark again, and now was the time to move. To wait any longer would mean them negotiating their way through the infested parking complex in the dark and then the ruined city that was swarming with thousands of agitated infected.
“It’s now or never, mate,” Al sighed, tightening the chin-strap of his helmet and checking that his gloves and vambraces were secure.
Tommy also carried out his own equipment checks before nodding to his partner and giving him a thumb’s up to confirm his readiness to move.
They stealthily climbed out through the passenger door, gritting their teeth in anticipation. The air outside of the van was much cooler, and their skin rippled with the sudden chill and apprehension. The place reeked of the dead; the smell of decay and putrid bodies was strong in the atmosphere despite the wind that blew in from beyond the parking bays. Al paused, keeping himself tightly pressed against the side panels of the vehicle as he checked the immediate vicinity. To his right, he could not see any of the infected in and around the parked cars, but he could hear noises to the left beyond his sight. The scrape of feet and the hoarse grunts echoed hauntingly through the expanse of the parking level. He pointed to his ear, turned to look at Tommy, and received a nod of acknowledgement.
In a squatted position and shuffling on his haunches, Al crept towards the rear wheel, and then carefully lowered himself to the floor, peering beneath the bumper and towards the door leading back into the stairway at the far end. He could see dozens of legs, covered with tattered and discoloured clothing, and shuffling randomly in all directions. There was still a large number of the infected scattered throughout the parking level. For a moment he wondered why, but then surmised that they were most likely completely deaf and could not hear the music that was still playing in the distance. Their sight was probably non-existent, too, explaining why they had not followed the others, and without the proximity of other bodies to guide them, they would probably remain trapped there for years to come.
“There’s about thirty or forty of them still mincing about. They’re pretty spread out,” Al whispered over his shoulder as he climbed back to his feet. “I don’t think they can see all that well, though.”
“I suppose we’ll soon find out.”
They slung their rifles over their backs and drew their pistols. The silencers on their handguns were much more effective than the suppressors fitted to their long barrelled weapons. They expected to be in a close quarter fight, and the pistol was also better suited for confined spaces. Together, they inched their way forward and slowly exposed themselves into the open while nervously remaining close to the van.
Just twenty metres away a corpse shuffled through the open area that dissected the parking bays, its feet dragging over the ground and trailing a long strand of weeds that had become entangled around its ankles. Its grey face remained pointed towards the floor as it sauntered along with its arms swaying slightly to the rhythm of its gate. The roots that were wrapped around its legs suddenly became taught. The corpse tripped and slammed into one of the vehicles nearest to it, the sound of its head impacting with the rusted metal sending out a dull but loud clunk through the parking level. None of the other wandering figures turned or looked in the direction of the noise, confirming to Al that his guesswork had been accurate. They were blind and deaf.
He stole a glance to his left. Tommy looked back at him with trepidation clear in his eyes. Even beneath his armour, Al could see the rise and fall of his chest as his nervous breathing came in rapid gasps. They nodded to one another, confirming that now was the time for them to make their move. They checked their immediate vicinity again, taking note of the nearest of the infected. The body that had fallen was still down and pathetically struggling to regain its feet as it lay squirming and thrashing amongst the thick clusters of weeds that had sprung up around the wheels of the vehicle.
Making their way across to the parking bays opposite the van, they stopped at the wall and looked out over the rooftops. The sun was getting low, and the visibility was gradually decreasing. It would not be long before the streets were completely cast in gloom. They turned their attention down to the streets below. It was a sight that caused their bodies to tense and a shiver to ripple over their goose-bumped skin. Below them there was a dark shifting blanket of ghostly figures that were endlessly pouring out from the ramps leading into the ground floor, their conjoined voices creating a raucous roar as they staggered away from the parking complex.
“Jesus. How are we going to get through all that?”
“Where there’s a will, there’s always a way. We’ll just have to think on the move, mate, because right now, I haven’t a fucking clue,” Al grunted.
They searched the area, scanning the rooftops and upper floors of the buildings nearby, looking for the source of the music that was now almost completely drowned out by the noise of the excited mass.
“You see anything?” Tommy asked, glancing back along the parking level, and checking on the infected that were close by. The corpse that had tumbled had now given up on trying to stand again, and instead had resorted to crawling out from the other side of the vehicle and reverted to dragging itself along the tarmac.
“Nothing. I can’t hear the music anymore, either. Is it still playing?”
“Yeah, it’s still playing. I can’t tell where it’s coming from, though.”
“Come on, let’s see if we can sneak out of here. I say we scrub the bus station phase and head straight for home.”
“Agreed. Sack it, and leg it for the tunnel,” Tommy whispered enthusiastically. “I’ve had a bellyful of this circus for one day.”
Al turned to move away, but then stopped abruptly. Something had caught his eye in the streets below. He stepped back up to the wall and looked out to the rows of buildings on their left that overlooked the open area in front of the multi-storey car park. He paused and squinted, trying to identify what it was that had registered in the back of his mind. Finally he saw it. There, at the broken window of what had once been a row of small, first floor flats with shops and businesses beneath, he saw a figure looking back at him. Al reached into his vest and grabbed a small set of binoculars. The man was doing the same thing and or a few seconds, they stood and stared at one another, adjusting their focus dials.
“There’s someone down there,” Al hissed, nudging Tommy with his elbow. “A bloke standing in one of the windows above that shop. He’s alive.”
Tommy leaned out over the ledge of the wall and looked for himself. Al was right, there was definitely a living man down there. It had been a long time since anyone had been seen alive within the city, but that did not mean that there was no one surviving there. Unsure of what else to do, Tommy raised his hand and waved. The man hesitated, lowered his binoculars, looked towards the crowd beneath him, and then returned the gesture.
“You think he’s the one playing the music?”
“Must be. I can’t see it being anyone else.”
“What should we do? There’s still a lot of them down there.”
“We don’t have any choice, mate. We need to get moving.”
They headed for the door, avoiding the urge to run while weaving their way through the infected that seemed to aimlessly wander around through the parking level. There appeared to be more of them around than Al had initially estimated, and the door suddenly seemed further away. One behind the other, with Al in front and his pistol raised in both hands, they carefully stepped over the weeds and around the multitude of inert bodies that littered the floor. A few bony hands reached out towards them as they passed some of the vehicles, but they were easy to negotiate, their clumsy movements and rasping grunts giving the men plenty of warning. At the door they stopped and looked back. It seemed that some of the dead still had enough hearing and sight to identify the living at close range. Many of the corpses had turned in their direction and were following slowly.
Tommy pulled the door open and peered into the stairwell. The smell made him recoil for a second before stepping through, holding his breath, and squinting into the darkness. The floor was sodden with a foul smelling, viscous liquid that churned his stomach. The dark steps were cluttered with bits of clothing and body parts that had fallen from their owners during the mass pushing and shoving as the infected had swarmed through the building. Just a short while ago, there had been thousands of them trampling their way up towards the rooftop. Now all that remained were discarded limbs along with a few bodies that had been too fragile and were crushed in the melee.
He turned and signalled for Al to follow him into the darkened stairwell. They waited and listened for a moment, their feet squelching in the fetid fluids of the dead. Above them they could hear footsteps, and below them was the din of the swarm at street level. In the dark, with only their hearing to lead them and the sounds being amplified through the shaft containing the staircase, it was more nerve wracking than being faced with thousands of the dead in broad day light. They had faced similar situations before, but it never got any easier to cope with. Their nerves were stretched close to breaking point, and it was down to their experience and determination for them to remain focussed and calm.
“What do you think? Wait for a while, or do we go for it now?” Tommy asked, listening to the haunting wails of the infected drifting up through the building.
There was a thud to their right. They turned to see the faces of several corpses pressed up against the narrow, reinforced pane of glass that was set into the door leading onto the level that they had just come from. Within seconds the window was nothing but a collage of grey faces and grinning skulls, vacant eye sockets, and yellowed, broken teeth. They chomped at the glass and scraped their clawed hands against the thick wood.
“I think you’ve got your answer, mate.”
“If this goes wrong, we’ll be well and truly in the shit,” Tommy whispered, staring up between the bannisters leading to the upper floors. “Sounds like there’s still a lot of them up there. We’ll be the filling in a serious shit sandwich.”
“We can go and sit in the van again if you want?”
“Fuck that.”
Moving down through each flight of stairs, the pair of them covered one another as they pushed through the darkness in bounds. The sounds of the dead above them continued, but that was no real concern to them as they descended. The roar of the mass of bodies below was what forced them to hesitate as they finally reached the top of the second level. They stopped by the door leading into the parking bays. The glass was murky, but they could make out the faint shapes of figures moving around on the other side. Beneath them the sound of scraping feet, the incessant clangs as bodies bumped into vehicles, and the mind curdling howl of the thousands of walking dead clawed its way up towards the living men. They glanced at one another, unsure of what lay around the next turning in the staircase.
“They’re coming down,” Al said as he looked up towards the upper floors.
He could see faint shadows flitting from one wall to the next as the bodies broke the low ambient light that filtered in from between the levels. Their footsteps were getting louder.
“I know.”
They continued down through another level, taking the steps slowly, and hugging the wall as they pointed their pistols out into the darkness ahead of them. By the time they were on the first floor, they could almost feel the dead within close proximity. The mass of moving bodies seemed to cause the foundations to vibrate, and their voices endlessly lamenting together clawed along the walls like a creeping fungus.
They moved slowly, studying every corner and every shadow, their eyes darting wildly as they perceived threat from every quarter. At the top of the first flight of stairs they stopped again, steeling themselves for what lay ahead. It would have been easy for them both to turn back and find a new hiding place, but the thought of ending up like Harry and the others continued to spur them on.
Tommy covered the rear as Al led the way down the steps and towards the door leading out on to the ground level. He kept an ear out behind them, staying fully aware of the progress of the dead that were descending above them. He felt the cool air from below brush against his bare head, and he suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting his tantrum on the roof when he slung his helmet away. He knew that they were about to come into close proximity with the infected, and the thought of having an ear ripped off refused to be dislodged from his mind. Without realising that he was doing it, he sunk his head deep into his shoulders.
Al reached for the handle and peered out through the narrow gap he created between the door and its frame. He blinked against the sudden change in light, and grimaced at the overpowering stench of rotting corpses, but kept his attention on what was beyond. He was immediately tempted to close the door again and head back up the stairs. There were thousands of them still lurching through the ground floor parking bays. Not all of them had made it out on to the streets, and with the din of the crowd, they could no longer hear the music. He could see the wrecked barricade roughly thirty metres away, but with the amount of dead in the area he doubted that they would make it that far. Using the ramp as their escape route was going to be extremely difficult. He looked around, searching for an alternative, but everywhere he looked he could see nothing but the gaunt and horrific faces of the dead.