The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 4) (32 page)

A few of the troops stationed along the walkway turned and watched the new arrivals with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. They looked frightened, and Stan was unsure if it was due to the dead or the appearance of him and his men. Their beards, matted hair and grimy clothing that was swathed in blood and all manner of filth must have made them appear like wild men born from absolute savagery.

“Everything okay, Tina?”
a voice called down from above them.

She turned and saw Paul watching them from the wall. He was holding his rifle so that the barrel was casually pointed in their general direction as he eyed the fearsome looking men around her. She waved back to him and gave him a thumbs up.

“That’s Paul, our ship guy,” she informed Stan.

“They seem a little nervous.”

“They’re just being cautious,” Tina replied. “It’s been a while since we had visitors here. And the last bunch weren’t exactly what you could call friendly.”

They began to walk again, Stan and his team herded into a tight group while Al and the others took advantage of the open ground and were able to form a loose cordon around them again. They were headed for the inner complex.

“Is the tunnel your only way of getting out?” Taff asked to his left.

Flash turned and looked at him as they walked. At first he considered ignoring the question but then smiled. He saw no point in lying to the man. They would soon know everything about their situation.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he replied. “The chopper is knackered, and the tanks are gone. If we hadn’t built that tunnel when we did, we’d be well fucked now.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Stan and his men could see from the moment they entered into the complex that things were getting desperate for the survivors living there. The place was decaying, and the people they had seen so far seemed to be suffering the same fate.

Even the corridor that they were moving along was subsiding, forcing them to have to lean slightly to their right as they walked. The place was deserted, but they knew that there would be others. The smell of humanity, unwashed bodies, and rotting food lingered throughout the complex. The hallways reeked of mildew, and the interior echoed with the distant bellow of coughing from numerous sources.

“You have sick people here?” Taff asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We have sick people, yeah. The flu is still in the air, and there are still a number of cases each year. Some of the stronger people get through, but the weaker ones never stand a chance. We’re short on medicines, and our best doctor was killed just yesterday,” Tina replied over her shoulder, her voice holding a clear note of regret as she once again pictured their pathetic cemetery in her mind.

“Where is everyone else?”

“In the assembly areas, ready for an evac. The med staff and the sick are in the clinic, and everyone else is at their posts on the defences.”

In the places where there was still power the lights flickered and popped as water dripped through the joins in the prefabricated modules that made up the inner complex of the FOB. The atmosphere was a depressing one, and even though there was no one in sight, the base seemed to be laden with human misery and despair. It was as if death was hovering above them, waiting for its opportunity to strike.

“What a shit hole. I feel fucking depressed here already,” Kyle grunted to no one in particular as they headed through the maze of passageways and turnings.

Flash was walking beside him, and he looked down at Kyle and nodded, humming his agreement. He felt the same way and understood how the conditions must seem to an outsider. He had been there from the very beginning, and he clearly remembered the place being in a much better condition in the early days. Everything worked back then, and compared to most people trying to survive the apocalypse, life for them had been relatively easy, even comfortable. As the years blurred into one another, the situation had deteriorated, but experiencing the hardships as they unfolded over a period of time had helped them to get used to life within the base.

“You should try living here.”

“I’ll stick to my caravan, thanks,” Kyle scoffed, suddenly remembering that he had forgotten to repair the broken window. “So come on then, why do they call you ‘Flash’?”

The man shrugged, a slight smile creasing the corners of his mouth. He had been wondering how long it would be before someone asked him that question.

“My name’s Gordon. Al and Tommy took me under their wing when I turned up here as a kid, and they nicknamed me ‘Flash’. And no, before you ask, I’ve never seen the movie.”

“You poor bastard,” Bull grumbled from up ahead of them and turned to grin at him. “You’ve never seen ‘Flash-Gordon’? Well you’re in for a treat if we ever make it out of here and back to the ship. Taff’s got it on DVD. We’ll have a special showing… just for you. Tuxedos with red carpet and all.”

“Yeah,” Flash replied under his breath. “
If
we make it.”

They reached the conference room. Tina held the door open with Al standing close beside her and watching the newcomers closely as they filed into the room. Stan and his men complied, allowing themselves to be corralled and at the mercy of their new hosts.

“What, no brew-kit or biscuits?” Bull ruptured as he entered the room. He stood there looking around in dismay and disgust. “This isn’t good, Stan. We would never bring people in without offering them a brew. I reckon they’re cannibals.”

“Stop thinking about your stomach for once. Your thighs are getting too big as it is,” Charlie grinned.

“Yep, they’re definitely cannibals.”

16

Before the group was able to begin speaking and discussing their options and forming a plan of action, there was a screeching crunch from somewhere deep within the base. The noise seemed to travel through the ground and up through the floors. As people turned to one another searching for answers, the sound of muffled gunfire began to ring through the air and soon grew into an unrelenting barrage of rifle and machinegun fire.

“What the fuck was that?” Al gasped, unslinging his rifle and turning to look for Paul, the man in charge of the base’s security. “Get me a sit-rep, now.”

Paul was standing in the corridor, already about to call through his radio when the alarms began to howl, blasting at the eardrums of anyone within the complex, and leaving any form of verbal communication virtually impossible.

Stan and his group could do nothing but look on at the concerned and confused faces of Al and Tina, completely deaf from the noise of the alarms, and utterly bewildered to what was happening. Taff and the others were already readying their weapons, pulling back the cocking levers, and then checking on the ammunition stored within their pouches. One thing that they were sure of was that the situation had abruptly gotten worse within the FOB. Everyone moved towards the door.

“What is it? The western gate?” Tina called to Paul from the doorway as he was still standing in the corridor.

Beyond the ear-shattering wail of the sirens the faint thump of gunfire could still be distinguished. Inside the buildings it was hard to tell in which direction the shooting was coming from, but Tina, Al, and Paul assumed that it was coming from the western gate and began heading for the junction in the corridor that would lead them out to that particular section of the perimeter. That was their most vulnerable position, and it was thought the most likely area where there would eventually be a breach in their defences. Stan, Charlie and the rest of their team did not wait for an invitation and followed after them. All of them charged out from the conference room, ready and willing to join in the battle.

Paul was holding his hand to his ear as they took off running through the complex, struggling to understand what was being said to him through his radio by the panic stricken voice of one of his section commanders. Before they had moved more than ten metres, he reached out and grabbed Tina by the arm of her shirt, coming to an abrupt halt and dragging her with him. She spun on him and was about to attempt to pull away, but stopped when she saw the expression in his face.

He was shaking his head and already turning back the way they had come. Something within his own instincts was telling him that they were headed in the wrong direction. He could not explain it even to himself, but he was sure that the western gate was not the problem right at that moment. The alarms were cancelling out all hope of communication, and it was impossible to gain a clear picture of the situation. He looked angered and frustrated.

“What?” Tina shouted into his ear.

“Useless bastards,” Paul roared as he clicked his radio, hoping that someone on one of the other sections of wall would hear him over the racket. “Turn the fucking alarms off. I can’t hear a word. Turn them off.”

Finally, someone understood what was needed, and as the sirens ceased, leaving the heads of the people inside the complex spinning while their ears buzzed. The distant bark and rattle of gunfire grew louder, sounding more ferocious than before.

“Say again your last. Is it the west gate?” Paul asked into his mouthpiece, still struggling to hear over the ringing in his ears.

He could now make out the voice that was screaming to him over the airwaves. The man sounded terrified and rattled, sputtering his words and having to shout over the din of the shooting. Paul’s face twisted into a perplexed frown, quickly changing to a look of concern and becoming ashen as the information that was being given to him struck home. His jaw visibly fell open as Al and Tina stood staring back at him, anxiously waiting for an update on a clearly critical situation.

“It’s the east gate,” Paul shrieked at them.

He turned and took off in the opposite direction along the corridor, barging through doors and vaulting over equipment while still yelling back at them over his shoulder.

“The eastern gate is collapsing. The whole fucking wall on that side is about to come down.”

Al was the first to move, quickly followed by Tina.

“Flash, come on,” Al cried. The man was ahead of them, having took the lead when they thought that the trouble was coming from the west. “It’s the other side.”

They took off at a sprint, running through the complex and chasing after Paul, headed towards the rumble of the guns and the terrified screams of the living.

“Looks like we arrived at a bad time, Stan,” Taff commented as they followed. “You sure this was a good idea?”

They ran through the complex, the sound of their footsteps and the clunk of their weaponry echoing loudly within the passageways. They were headed in a different direction from the way they had come in, giving Stan and his team the opportunity to see more of the layout of the interior.

They swept passed what appeared to be the dining hall, a large room that was filled with startled faces that watched them as they raced by, calling after them in worried voices, and pleading for information.

The appearance of Tina and the soldiers seemingly fleeing through the complex set off a ripple of panic amongst the survivors in the assembly area. No doubt some of them may have even believed that they were about to be abandoned. Desperate cries called after them, with people running for the doors as the guards attempted to restore order and prevent a rout. Even the packet commander of that particular assembly point seemed to lose his mind and attempted to chase after them. He was instantly stopped in his tracks and dragged back by one of the militia guards.

Stan and his group reached a set of double doors and emerged into the open area between the perimeter wall and the living quarters. The noise of the gunfire was no longer stifled by the walls of the buildings. It blasted loudly and continuously, sounding more desperate than ever as some of the guards opened up on full automatic.

Stan halted and quickly surveyed their surroundings. People were running in all directions, carrying ammunition and whatever equipment they could lay their hands on to help shore up the defences. Others were screaming for help or running in the opposite direction while commanders roared orders and demands. It seemed that mayhem was threatening to take over and with no one really in overall control of the situation.

A gaggle of men and women were crowding the eastern entrance, throwing their weight against the large steel plates and hoping to reinforce it with their bodies until more help arrived. They were screaming out to one another as they desperately attempted to prevent the gate from caving inwards.

He turned and looked for Tina amongst the chaos. He spotted her, along with Al and Flash, headed straight for the area of the gate and the epicentre of the panic. Paul was already vaulting up the nearest set of steps and screaming at the top of his lungs for the men and women above him to control their rate of fire. Too much ammunition was being fired and wasted in the bedlam, and at the current rate of consumption it would not be long before all the weapons ran dry.

“Tina,” Al yelled as he rushed forward, his arm raised and his finger pointing up towards the top of the gateway.

It did not take more than a second for her to recognise that the support pillars on either side of the gate were about to collapse. The concrete that held the large iron hinges was crumbling away at a rapid rate as the heavy doors shook and rattled. Large portions of the cement were already dropping from the reinforcing rods inside the support columns and thumping loudly as it crashed to the floor around the troops that were fighting to hold the barrier shut. The gate itself was swaying as the weight of the crowd outside jostled and pushed against it. The noise from the dead on the other side grew louder as they sensed triumph and continued to hurl themselves against the perimeter of the base, indifferent to the wall of heavy fire that was raining down upon them.

Al and Tina reached the scene and threw themselves into the chaos, helping to shore up the collapsing gate. By now there were over a dozen people thrusting their weight against the swaying barrier, but it seemed to be doing nothing to prevent the gradual collapse.

Stan looked at the walls on either side of the tall doorway, and saw that the sections of T-wall to the left and right were also moving, oscillating lazily as the pillars shifted and the sections became loose from their deteriorating supports. He looked to his left and saw the entrance leading in to the tunnel. It was approximately two-hundred and fifty metres away, and if the gate was to collapse at that moment, it was clear to him that most of the people still inside the complex would quickly be cut off from their only escape route.

“Charlie, get over there and see what you can do,” Stan ordered, pointing towards the men and women that were attempting to hold up the gate. “Get a grip of those clowns and sort them out. Nobby, get up on the wall and help that Paul fellow out. Keep an eye on him, and no matter what happens, don’t let him get eaten.”

Charlie raced over with his small group of men and immediately began to take charge of the situation, barking orders and organising the defence. Within seconds there was a row of men and women, their backs against the thick steel sheets of the gate, and with their heels dug in against the shifting gravel as they pushed back at the weight of the infected on the other side. A second row was formed with more people pressing against the barrier with their hands and driving it back into place with the power created in their legs and shoulders. The pillars rocked back into place, but they would not stay there for long and the desperate people beneath would soon tire regardless of their determination and will to survive.

“Wood, iron, anything,” Charlie called out, grimacing with the effort. “Find something to shore this up with. Tear the fucking buildings apart if you have to.”

There was very little left within the base now that could be salvaged and used to help reinforce the walls on that side. Most of what they could use had been piled up at the western wall to prevent the dead from gaining entry on that side. Charlie stepped away, leaving the men and women that were already in place to keep the failing gate in position. He spun around and saw a number of people headed towards them, having been dispatched from the southern end of the base to help with the defence on the east.

“You lot, come with me,” he shouted to them, leading them towards the complex.

Nobby reached the wall and instantly began to assist Paul with controlling the rate of fire. Up until that point the shooting had been purely fear driven, with no thought for accuracy or the conservation of ammunition. Most of the rounds were being loosed off without aim, causing more psychological comfort to the firers than actual damage to the infected ranks. The firing slowed, becoming more deliberate and effective as Paul and Nobby directed the men and women of the militia. More soldiers arrived from other parts of the wall, creating a line of troops that were standing shoulder to shoulder and firing down into the densely packed crowd of howling faces.

Stan began to move forward, having carried out his ‘battlefield assessment’. Despite the catastrophic events that were unfolding, he refused to allow him and his team to be drawn into the confusion without first getting a clear picture of what was happening and considering the options available. He knew from his years of training and experience that regardless of how urgent the situation was, charging in blind would always cause more harm than good. Taking just a few moments to read the ground and consider the options always resulted in a better decision being made. Charlie and a number of people had begun ripping apart the nearest of the cabins for anything that could be used to barricade the crumbling gate. The gate was currently back in position and holding, and the fire from the wall was being controlled by Nobby and Paul. With his appreciation of the situation completed, Stan launched himself and his men forward.

Taff and Bull joined the group at the gate while Kyle and Mark assisted Charlie with the dismantling of one of the prefabricated cabins. Axes and sledgehammers went into action, smashing at the walls, doors, and floors of the huts while work crews dragged the heavy fragments across the gravel and began piling it up against the eastern entrance while the strength of the people holding it shut was quickly beginning to ebb away.

“We need to get out of here,” Stan yelled into Tina’s face, pulling her to the side and away from the bedlam. “You need to get your people moving from the assembly areas and into the tunnel or it’ll be too late. This place is going to fold no matter what we do.”

“We can’t,” she screamed back at him and tugging at his arm. “We can’t go anywhere until we secure the gate.”

She broke free and jumped back to her position beside the others. No matter how many people they had pressing against the gateway or how much debris was piled against it, the weight of the crowds on the other side was steadily beginning to overpower the defenders.

“We need more people,” Al called out, his feet slipping against the gravel as the gate began to shift inwards again.

Bull was beside him, pressing his palms against the cold steel of the entrance, growling and scowling against the pain that throbbed through his shoulders and into his back. There was a sickening squeal from above them as the barrier abruptly bowed inwards and one of the iron hinges broke, shattering into dozens of corroded pieces. More clumps of the support pillars fell and crashed into the ground around them with bone crunching thumps.