The Left Series (Book 5): Left On The Run (41 page)

Chapter Sixty-Seven

“Look, if it all goes wrong, I’ll take the rap for it,” Smith said, raising his hands by his chest. “I won’t tell the Russians anything about you and they still won’t know you exist. Hannigen gets the rest of you guys right back here in the bus and you can carry on with your lives.”

“You said yourself that the food is drastically running dry, Sammy,” McElroy pointed out. “This could be a new beginning for everyone here. It’s the chance of a fresh start, somewhere new. A chance to get out of Belfast, a chance to get away from Ireland.”

“This is my home,” O’Neil growled. “I was born here and worked here. I made it my life’s ambition to try to accomplish a better way of life for the people of Belfast.”

“Catch yourself on, Sammy,” McElroy sighed. “Take a look out the window. The Belfast you grew up in and fought so hard for is gone. The whole of the country is finished and there’s nothing that your politics or talking can do to solve it.”

The room fell silent and everybody stared at McElroy and O’Neil, standing face to face in a kind of verbal stand-off. Smith and I exchanged concerned glances.

“We can’t keep clinging on to the past, Sammy,” McElroy whispered. “The life we knew before the outbreak has gone.”

O’Neil’s bottom lip trembled slightly and he broke his gaze away from McElroy. He sighed loudly and turned to face the window.

“And where do you propose our destination to be, Mr. Smith?” he asked.

Smith rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked a little surprised. “Well…I’m figuring we could make our way across the Atlantic and head south to one of the Caribbean Islands maybe. A small island will be easy to clear of infected and keep defended. The weather is generally good down there and the ground is fertile for growing crops.” He waved his hand in the air. “Just an idea but I’m open to other options.”

“What about disease?” O’Neil asked, without turning around.

“Like I said, we got enough firearms to clear the island of any infected. We could burn the bodies or dump them out to sea.”

“No, I don’t mean the dead diseased people. I mean what if we catch diseases out there? Tropical diseases are rife in such places.”

Smith looked at Chandra. “Well, we’ll have a qualified doctor onboard and plenty of medical supplies, plus whatever is left lying around the place.”

“And what if people have already claimed the island and don’t want any more to swell their numbers?”

“Hey, we pack up and go someplace else. There are plenty of islands in the Caribbean and there’s room enough for everybody on the planet, right?” Smith glanced around the room for some moral support. A murmur of appreciation rumbled around the crowd.

O’Neil turned around sharply, staring directly at Smith. He held up a pointed finger.

“If this all goes awry, Mr. Smith then you’ll be the one to blame. I won’t come and save you from the wrath of the Russian Army.”

“You got it,” Smith mumbled. “Does that mean we’re good to go?”

“Much as it pains me,” O’Neil muttered. “We’ll gather everybody together and I’ll tell them we’re leaving.”

The apartment wasn’t big enough to accommodate all the residents of the tower block so everybody gathered in the corridor. O’Neil gave a short, emotional speech and likened our journey to that of the Pilgrims Fathers. He stated that the residents were only permitted to carry one baggage item each and no bulky objects were allowed. A hubbub of excited chatter echoed through the corridor and the tower block residents hurried away to pack a few belongings.

Smith pulled McElroy, Hannigen and I to one side after the meeting had concluded.

“It goes without saying that I want you three guys on my team to take the ship. We know where the Russians are and we’re all capable of handling a firearm if we need to.”

“Who’s going to drive the bus?” Hannigen asked.

Smith sighed. “You can still drive the bus, Hannigen. You’ll only need to drive it one way.”

Hannigen shrugged. “What if it all goes wrong and I have to drive back here?”

Smith tilted his face towards the ceiling. “Aw, don’t you start. I had a hard enough time convincing O’Neil with all the negative questions. It will all be peachy, Hannigen, trust me.”

“So, we’re just going in as a four man team?” McElroy asked.

“How many guys does it take to haul up the anchor?” Smith asked Hannigen.

“You only need one crew member to operate the capstan and I’m assuming these modern warships don’t need anyone to coil the chain in the cable locker. In the old days we had to…”

“Right, so one guy on the forecastle to operate the chain lever,” Smith interrupted. “That’s you, Hannigen, seeing as you know what you’re doing.”

“I’ll probably need one or two guys with me, to keep me covered and watch my back,” Hannigen said. “Then we’ll need to secure the anchor.”

“Okay,” Smith said. “So that’s two more guys. You got anybody in mind?” he asked McElroy.

McElroy thought for a second and nodded. “Aye, I’ve a couple of capable candidates.”

“Okay, and we’ll probably need a couple more guys with us, so that’s eight in total. Are we good with that?” Smith asked.

The three of us nodded.

“I better go and start packing the weapons and ammunition,” McElroy said. “I’ve got a feeling we may need it.”

“Okay Mac, we’ll meet you at the armory in an hour,” Smith said. “Round up your guys and go through with them exactly what we need to do.”

“Right you are, Smith,” McElroy agreed. He turned and headed for the staircase.

Hannigen grunted and retreated towards his own apartment.

“Are we not bringing Batfish or Wingate with us on this one?” I asked.

Smith shook his head. “Nah, things might get a little ugly on that ship and I don’t want them to witness it.”

“Right,” I muttered, worriedly wondering what kind of horrific and brutal acts Smith had in mind.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

I spent the following hour sitting on the floor with my back against the wall in the meeting room come apartment. People bustled in and out, asking each other what they should take with them. I drank a bottle of water and a ginger haired woman handed me a plastic bowl containing a small slop of what looked like stew.

“Sorry, there’s no more, love but that’s all our supplies used up,” the ginger haired woman said with a smile. “We decided to use everything we had left in one go. Less to carry, you see.”

I smiled falsely and tucked into the food, which tasted surprisingly good. When I’d finished the stew I placed the bowl down on the floor next to me. My stomach fluttered and churned around with nervousness. Much as I was all for hijacking a warship earlier, it now seemed a ridiculous idea as the time drew closer.

Smith strolled into the living room with Wingate and Batfish in tow. Batfish held Spot on a leash and looked to the floor when our eyes met.

“You ready to rock and roll, kid?” Smith asked.

I nodded and hauled myself to my feet.

“You guys be careful when you get out there, okay?” Wingate warned, pointing a finger at Smith and I. “If you get caught, don’t tell them you were with the refugees who escaped.”

“I don’t plan on telling them anything,” I huffed.

“Come on, Wilde Man,” Smith said, grabbing my shoulder. “Let’s go down to the armory.” He turned back to Wingate and Batfish. “We’ll see you guys on the bus.”

I muttered a ‘
bye
’ and ruffled Spot’s head before we headed back down the long staircase.

McElroy, Hannigen and four other guys were already sitting around in the armory waiting for us. The guys were already kitted out in black combat fatigues and had ski masks planted on the tops of their heads but rolled up to reveal their faces. I recognized them and had met them on the upper floor at some time or another.

Smith took his Russian Army uniform off the coat hook and folded it into a ball.

“I may need this later,” he said, stuffing the clothing into a black plastic trash sack.

“Okay, everybody listen up,” McElroy shouted. “A few of us know each other but for those who haven’t met, I’ll introduce you.” He pointed to Smith and I. “Our friends from the United States are John Smith and Brett Wilde. You two already know Hannigen and myself. The other four members of our team are Bobby McPherson, Patrick Dunne, Terry McDonnell and Michael Duffy.” He pointed to each guy in turn. They all looked pale and stone faced and ready for action.

“Are you really serious about this?” Hannigen asked. “Eight guys against a whole ship’s company of a Russian warship?”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Smith muttered. “Don’t worry, Hannigen. I’m going to throw in a couple of distractions along the way.”

I noticed the four other guys stared at Smith with guarded suspicion.

“You got anything in the way of a backpack of some kind, Mac?” Smith asked.

“Aye, we’ve got everything in here,” McElroy replied. “We’ve even got some Semtex and a whole load of detonators if you need that kind of thing.” He opened up all the remaining lockers, revealing several containers of the lethal explosive compound. The lockers also contained two flame-throwers, three rocket-propelled grenade launchers, a crate of hand grenades and a belt-fed, heavy duty machine gun, as well as combat clothing and empty backpacks.

“Wow,” Smith gasped. “Most of that gear is a little heavy for what we need but some of it could come in handy. You’ve even got a Barrett Light 50 sniper rifle in there. Toss me a backpack, Mac and we’ll go shopping.”

McElroy handed over a rucksack and Smith placed the roll of black trash bags inside as well as several other items from the lockers.

“Right you are, boys,” McElroy said. “It’s time to get geared up. We have to move all this equipment and ammo to the bus so we’ll wrap anything we don’t take with us in these bags.” He pointed to a pile of brown hessian sacks on the floor on the opposite side of the room.

I glanced at the sacks and they reminded me of a previous encounter in England, with a bunch of diseased freaks that wore similar kinds of bags over their heads. A shiver ran down my spine at the horrific memory.

It took us around twenty minutes to load plenty of spare magazines and arm ourselves with a rifle and a handgun each. Some of the guys also took grenades but I refused to have anything to do with explosives. I was just about competent with a firearm and didn’t want to accidently kill anybody by using a grenade. Besides, I’d recently had a bad experience with explosives and didn’t fancy getting blown up again. I chose an AK47 rifle and stuck with the Taurus handgun once again. Smith told me the assault rifle was fairly simple to operate and didn’t easily jam up. McElroy also provided us with sheathed knives in case we needed a close combat weapon. I hoped that situation wouldn’t arise, as I didn’t relish engaging some big Russian soldier in a knife fight. 

We placed the rest of the weaponry inside the hessian sacks, apart from the bigger items that we had to wrap up, and we were all good to go.

Seamus Heath was on access duty once again and he let us in and out of the steel security door. It took several trips to load the contents of the armory onto the bus. Smith and I kept an eye out for any zombies outside, while the others packed the weaponry in the baggage compartment at the side of the vehicle.

Smith and I both smoked a cigarette while we waited for the guys to stack the armaments. The sunlight faded rapidly and darkness descended across the view of the shattered city. My thoughts drifted as I studied the crumbling buildings and open space around the tower block.

“I wish Cordoba was with us on this mission,” I sighed.

“Me too, kid,” Smith muttered, flicking his cigarette butt across the parking lot.

I checked the other guys were out of earshot before I spoke again in a hushed tone.

“You think we’re seriously going to pull this whole thing off?”

“Absolutely.”

“Best guess at our chances?”

“Maybe 60-40, in our favor,” Smith said. “Not bad odds, considering. We have the element of surprise, which goes a long way in these kinds of situations.”

I tossed my cigarette butt on the ground and listened to it sizzle out on the wet ground. My stomach churned with tension and I felt slightly nauseous. I hoped I wasn’t the one who was going to mess up big time and change those odds against us.

Chapter Sixty-Nine