Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught (25 page)

It gave me the unpleasant feeling that the odds of surviving were getting smaller, and seeing the miserable faces of the others around me didn’t exactly lift my spirits. We were now the gambler’s outside bet: the horse with three legs.

And a three-hundred pound jockey…

Budd looked at the display above the doors, judging their downward progress as the red numbers ran backwards, ever decreasing. They were already halfway. Juliette squeezed his hand to gain his attention and then offered a small smile through tightly bound lips. She rested the side of her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair, letting his fingers drop down to caress her cheek.

“I’m sorry for what happened up there, but I couldn’t lock t’door an’ leave t’rest to die,” Andy said, breaking the silence and letting his eyes move between members of the original group. They all looked back at him, except for the doctor, who was too caught up with his own grief to notice.

“You did God’s work, my son. You tried to save his children.”

I’d debate God’s work is holding open a door for a bunch of zombies, or sacrificing one set of his children for a smaller set, but, hey, what do I know? I guess that’s why they say the devil’s in the details…

“Thank you, Father. I don’t think that we can stay here any longer. There is nowhere that has enough supplies or light that we could make safe. I suggest we find some kind of transport an’ head out to t’countryside.”

“Dude,” Sam said, “we’re in the center of London. Like, how can we get to the countryside with those fast-movers everywhere?”

“We don’t know they’re everywhere,” Andy replied. “Anyway, we’ll need transport; there’s a bus station about a mile away, or we could use t’Thames.”

“Does anyone know how to sail a boat?” Father McGee asked. After his question was voiced he took another sip from his flask. Apprehensive glances were exchanged around the elevator car. No one volunteered possessing any useful experience.

“The bus station sounds like a good idea to me,” the tattooed woman said. Her partner had given her back her track suit top, which she wore loosely, the zip undone. “A bus will be pretty sturdy.”

“So, is that t’plan?” Andy said.

There were nods of approval, but also some unhappy grunts. Budd made one of these. “You said it’s ’bout a mile away, right? How’d you expect us to travel a mile with those things around? We lost people running across a couple of rooms.”

“What do you suggest?”

Hit the emergency stop, hope we’re found before we starve…

Budd felt the pressure of peoples’ eyes pressing against him. He looked up at the floor counter; they were on level eight and time was short. “Hey, just because I think your idea’s stupid, doesn’t mean I have a better one. We’ll give it a go.”

“Good, we might even find something suitable on t’way. If we do, can anyone here hotwire a vehicle?”

“Give me thirty seconds and I’ll have most things motoring,” Budd said with a smile. He looked up at the display. They were on level one, above the reception area, so there were only a few seconds until the distant hum of the motor ceased and the doors opened.

I wondered what’d be waiting for us, and whether we’d even make it outta the elevator, let alone all the way to the bus station…

Sam shuffled forward to stand next to Andy. The maintenance man’s hammer was at the ready.

Budd released Juliette’s hand and then eased the cleaver from her grasp. He bent over and kissed her on the cheek. The touch of her soft flesh brought another smile to his face, but before he could say anything the lift stopped. The bell chimed and his attention flicked to the opening doors.

Beyond them was the frightened face of someone he did not expect to see.

Chris was standing a few feet into the lobby. His narrow face was pale, his suit was ruffled and his hands were down in front of his waist, bound together with a shiny pair of handcuffs. When he saw the people he’d abandoned, relief flooded over his features.

Three paces behind him was a man dressed entirely in black. He wore leather boots, combat pants, a jacket and gloves, and he had the stock of a sub-machine gun nestled into his shoulder. The barrel switched from pointing at Chris’s back to the elevator car.

“We’re all okay,” Andy said, throwing up his arms and dropping his hammer. Sam also raised his hands, nodding his agreement to the statement.

Budd watched the barrel of the Heckler & Koch MP-5 adjust so that it was aiming at him. He looked past the muzzle of the weapon at the man behind it, giving the gunman a quick once-over before letting the meat-cleaver fall from his hand.

The gunman forced Chris into the elevator with a shove. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with sandy blond hair and a short, well-kept blond beard. Tucked around his ear was a small receiver and a tiny microphone was attached to the high collar of his jacket. In a holster on his right hip was an automatic pistol and there was a big, wooden-handled revolver tucked into a large belt around his waist, which was also strewn with satchels of ammunition and at least two grenades.

For Budd, the most alarming part of all was the cold, calculating stare of the gunman’s pale grey eyes. “Like they said, brother. We’re all on the same team.”

Which, may or may not have been true, but as he was holding the gun, I, for one, hoped that we were. I couldn’t tell if he was a real soldier; there were no giveaways on his uniform, no rank or insignia. But he carried himself like one and he acted like one, so, as far as I was concerned, he was one.

However, it did beg the question as to why he was pointing his gun at us, and not mowing down zombies with reckless glee. I was sure he’d get with the program soon enough…

“You,” the blond soldier said, looking directly at Budd, “step out of the lift and stand over there.”

“Why?”

The soldier answered without the use of a single word; he simply flicked his MP-5.

“Alrighty,” Budd said. He walked to the right as he’d been instructed. “Just don’t do anything stupid now, okay fella?”

“Turn around. Hands against the wall.”

Budd did as he was told and placed his palms against the painted surface.

Even in a post-apocalyptic world, where zombies roam free, people can’t help picking on us Americans. I tell ya, it’s discrimination. The whole planet has yet to forgive us for our meddling. I didn’t vote for the guy in the White House, so do me a favor and quit picking on me…

Budd listened as the soldier took several measured footsteps and then began to pat him down one-handed. The barrel of the MP-5 was jabbed into his lower back. “Normally this sort of thing would cost you a drink, partner.”

Ignoring Budd, the soldier continued his search. The procedure was thorough, first going down the left-hand side of his body, then the right, before going up and down the insides of his legs. Last of all, the gloved hand felt around Budd’s waist and the small of his back.

The soldier took five large strides backwards. “Take off your pack.”

Slowly, not wanting to appear as if he was doing anything beside that which he’d been asked, Budd removed his Stetson and pulled the strap of his rucksack over his head. He dropped the pack to the floor and used his boot to slide it over the tiles to the soldier, who stooped to retrieve it without ever letting the barrel of his gun fall below a deadly level.

In the few seconds it took the soldier to hang the strap over his shoulder, Budd examined the rest of the reception foyer. Positioned in different spots around the room were three more soldiers, all dressed in the same black uniforms and all armed in a similar fashion. The closest was knelt down to cover the multiple entrances that led to the staff areas, while the other two were located by the large door to the Tropical Walkway. One of these was scanning the long foliage-filled corridor, while the second was watching the reception area and giving long, lingering looks over to the elevator.

“Now, face the wall again and place your hands behind your back.”

There were a few muffled voices from the elevator, but the soldier silenced them with a swift move of his gun’s barrel. Budd did as he was told. After a moment he felt the cold grip of steel as handcuffs were applied to his wrists. As soon as they were fitted, the soldier stepped away and raised one hand from his gun to press a button on his earpiece. “Subject secured. Over.”

“
Subject?” I went from mildly paranoid to full-on panicky…

There was a pause as the soldier waited for a response. “Subject is not alone, he is with a group of approximately a dozen. Over.”

Silence again as the soldier waited.

“Yes, sir. Over,” the soldier said, and then his hand dropped down from his earpiece. “Right, all of you, out of the lift and line up against the wall.”

One by one, the group came out of the elevator car and stood with Budd, leaning forward with their hands placed against the wall.

Juliette hurried to get next to Budd. “What is happening?” she whispered.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, sugar.”

I wasn’t…

“Silence,” the soldier snapped. He swept his MP-5 from side to side. “Now, I want you all to turn and face me. Do it slowly. Understand?”

The group did what was asked.

The soldier looked them over one after the other. “You,” he said, aiming his gun at the blonde in the black dress. “Step forward three paces.”

With her hands clasped to her injured face, blood evident between her fingers and down her sleeveless arms, the blonde did as she was told. Her companion started to speak, and Jack edged after her, only for the soldier to halt them both with a look from his grey eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Scarlet.”

“Tell me, is that a bite? If it is, I have a remedy.”

A remedy? This sounded more like it…

Scarlet nodded her head a small amount. Her hand was pressed against her injured face and tears streamed from her eyes.

“What’s happened?” Andy asked. “Do you know what’s happened?”

“I ask the questions,” the soldier said forcibly. “Is anyone else bitten?”

The group was silent.

“Tell me now, because the remedy has to be administered as soon as possible after the infection,” the soldier said. He looked down the line at each member of the group.

No one else confessed to such a wound. He touched his earpiece. “We have one infected. Over.”

There was a slight delay, a pause. “Roger that. Over.”

The soldier let his MP-5 hang down on its strap, freeing his hands. He walked around and stood at the side of Scarlet, looking at her wound. Across the room, one of the other soldiers by the Tropical Walkway came nearer, his sub-machine gun poised.

“This will be over in a second,” the soldier said, placing his left hand reassuringly on Scarlet’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

In a fast, fluid action, the soldier reached to his belt with his right hand and pulled out his revolver. He fired a single shot into Scarlet’s temple before she even had time to scream. Her corpse collapsed to the floor and blood, bone and brain splattered out across the black and white floor tiles.

Andy, Sam and Jack started forward, overcome with anger. The soldier stepped away and trained his revolver at them.

The three men stopped.

“Any of you motherfuckers move again and I’ll execute every last one of you. The bullet was the cure. There is no choice.”

Some remedy…

“You murdered her,” the blonde in the silver dress screamed, stepping towards the soldier only to be halted by Jack, who pulled her back to the wall.

“Annabel, Annabel,” Jack said. He put his hand on her face and forced her to look at him, shielding her from the sight of Scarlet’s body. “Annie, please stop. He’ll kill you.”

Annabel sunk into his arms and sobbed against his chest.

“I didn’t kill her; she was already dead. Now, if you all listen to me, I will keep you alive. But I’ll not hesitate to shoot if you disobey me. Do you understand?”

A fair distance away, the bark of a sub-machine gun firing broke through the quiet of the reception room. The gunfire was outside.

“You, in the handcuffs,” the soldier said, gaining Chris’s attention, “stand at the right-hand side of the line. And you,” he continued, now pointing at Budd, “get to the left of it.”

Budd and Chris shuffled to the places they’d been instructed.

“Okay, I want everybody to turn to the left and place their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them. Anyone who lets go or does something stupid will be shot. No individual will jeopardize the safety of the party. Understand?”