The Dead Walk The Earth II (17 page)

“She’s had a few modifications over the years,” the Chief began. “New batteries and radar and such things like that but all in all, she’s still the same boat we swiped from the Germans at the end of the war.”

“Thank fuck for that,”
Bull whispered sarcastically to Marty standing beside him.
“For a moment there I was beginning to worry that we were sitting in a rusty old tube that was more than twice my age.”

“This is the Control Room,” the Chief continued. “Forward, you have the Sound Room with the Captain’s quarters and beyond that you have the Officers’ living area. At the very front, in the bow compartment, is the Torpedo Room. Aft of the Control Room is the galley and crew quarters. Next is the Diesel compartment and beyond that is the Electric Motor Room with the Stern quarters behind that. That is where you will be spending most of your time during the voyage, gentlemen.”

Compared to its wartime compliment, the boat only had a skeleton crew. Originally, the vessel would have been crammed with more than fifty men and piles of equipment and provisions to last them for over six weeks at sea, leaving virtually no room for personal items. With just a handful of men on board, they were able to live much more comfortably, compared to their predecessors.

However, all that was soon to change. Over the next three hours, as Stan and his men settled themselves into the Stern quarters and stored their weapons and equipment, other troops began to arrive and squeezed themselves into the ever-increasing cramped confines of the boat’s interior. As the teams from the SAS and Pathfinder Platoon filled every available space inside, the boats atmosphere quickly began to change. Before long, it had become stiflingly hot and the air had turned stale, reeking with a mixture of diesel fuel and body odours.

“Well this is going to be a lovely trip,” Bobby grunted as he nodded to a fearsome looking man with a shaved head who was trying to make himself comfortable while pressed up against the rear bulkhead.

“Living the fucking dream,” the man mumbled back to him with no expression in his face. He turned away and pushed his shoulder against the pack he was leaning against then closed his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

Bull was busy trying to make a bed for himself. The bunks were far too small for his bulky frame and he had to settle with tucking himself into the area between the propeller shaft and a number of other pipes and ducts. He huffed and grunted as he twisted himself into a position that was something that resembled comfortable.

“Hey, what do you think of the whole murder mystery thing then?” He asked as he stretched his legs out and reached for his flask of tea.

Danny rolled over on his bunk and peered over from the book he was reading. It was impossible for him to sit up due to the tiny space between his head and the bunk above him so he settled for propping himself up in a half-lying position.

“What murder mystery thing?”

“On the island,” Bull replied as he continued to carefully pour the steaming brown liquid into his cup. “Four men were murdered sometime during the last week. All shot in the head and dumped on a deserted stretch of beach.”

“Nope, not heard anything about it,” Danny admitted shaking his head. “Who were they? Anyone we know?”

Bull shrugged as he sniffed at the contents in his Thermos mug. He took a sip and winced, then smacked his lips with satisfaction before handing it up to Danny.

“No idea, but apparently, they were guards down at the refugee camp. Obviously they must’ve pissed someone off in a big way and they were given the good news. Can’t say I blame them for it though. I’ve heard those guards are a right bunch of sadistic bastards and get a real kick out of making the refugees suffer.”

Danny suddenly remembered the events that he and Bobby had witnessed the week before during the outbreak at the camp. He turned and looked over to Bobby and raised a questioning eyebrow. Bobby looked back at him but his features gave nothing away. He shrugged indifferently and went back to reading a fishing magazine. Danny knew that Bobby was responsible and his only problem with it was that his friend had not seen fit to involve him. After watching the guards firing indiscriminately into the fleeing crowds and then executing a family who needed their help, he had hated them just as much as Bobby clearly did.

Bull was oblivious to the silent exchange between the other two and went on rambling about the event and then suddenly changing the subject to food as his mind flitted from one thing to the next, as it usually did.

Up on the bridge, Taff and Marty stood smoking vigorously as they took in as much nicotine as they could before the mission began. They knew that it would be a while before they would next have the chance and wanted to stock up while they were still in port.

Stan stood beside Captain Werner as the final preparations were completed and the bow and stern lines holding the submarine to the floating dock were cast off and the vessel was cleared for sea.

“Engage electric motors. Back one-third, Chief. Come left full rudder,” the Captain called into the voice pipe.

From inside the conning tower a low hum started up as the motors began to drive the submarine back out of its birth and towards the Channel. A number of commands were called down into the Control Room as Werner carefully manoeuvred the boat away from the harbour. When they were a few hundred metres away from the dock, the Captain called for an ‘all-stop’ on the electric engines. He turned to Stan and smiled.

“I love the sea, Stan. I’m never really happy unless I’m amongst the waves, regardless of the weather. Actually that’s probably why I’ve gone through two messy divorces in my time. My real wife is the ocean.”

Stan nodded. He could understand where Werner was coming from. He too had been a professional soldier his entire life and women had always come much further down in his list of priorities. He had never been married and now he could never imagine there being any change to that fact.

With the bow of the U-boat facing eastwards, the men on the bridge stood looking out over the English Channel for a while. The only noise they could hear was the sound of the waves slapping lazily against the hull, joined by the occasional screech of a seagull. The wind was down to little more than a breeze and the sun was slowly setting in the western sky. Its rays bounced off the surface of the darkening sea, causing it to glitter with orange and red sparkles of light. It was peaceful and almost hypnotic as the submarine gently rocked in the swell of the current and the cool wind brushed against their faces.

“Okay, let’s go to work,” Werner finally said, breaking the silence. He leaned forward and placed his mouth close to the voice pipe. “Right full rudder. Come to heading one-five-zero degrees. Both main diesels ahead full, Chief.”

From the hatch below, the sound of the order being repeated in the Control Room could be heard as the sailors set about getting the boat underway. A rumble began to grow from within the U-boat and a gentle vibration travelled through the hull as the diesels were fired up. The engines growled noisily and within seconds, the bow of the boat had begun to cut its way through the murky green waves and steadily began to gather pace. Before long, it was impossible to have a conversation at normal speaking volume up on the bridge. With the engines hammering at full speed and the wind blowing into their faces, the men up top had to shout to one another in order to be heard.

“Once we get some depth below our keel we’ll go under and run on the batteries,” the Captain hollered to Stan as he held onto the handrail fixed to the interior lip of the conning tower. “That way we save on fuel and it will give you and your boys something to write home about.”

Within an hour, the boat was locked down tight and gently slipping beneath the surface. The diesel engines were disengaged and the electric motors kicked in and powered the U-boat down into the depths.

“Take her down to thirty metres, Chief,” the Captain ordered in the Control Room as he stepped down from the ladder.

As the conning tower disappeared beneath the waves, the hum of the electric motors began to resonate through to the stern section of the submarine. Bull had been busy chomping away on a large piece of dried beef from his rations but as the Captain announced the dive over the intercom speakers, he stopped in mid chew. His cheeks were puffed out from being overstuffed and his eyes grew wide as he automatically gazed up at the ceiling of the pressure hull as though he was able to see through it and witness the sea as it flowed over the upper deck.

In the Control Room, Stan watched as the crew expertly handled the boat and automatically worked the controls. Men moved about pulling levers and turning wheels, allowing water to rush into the diving tanks and then closing them off once the ship had begun her descent. The Chief stood back beside the Captain and observed, keeping his eyes on the men sitting at the diving controls and controlling the bubbles in the glass tubes that indicated the angle of the diving planes.

Within thirty seconds, they were completely submerged. Stan observed the needle on the depth gauge and watched as its point gently passed the fifteen metre mark and continued towards its desired depth.

“Bow planes on zero, stern planes on zero,” the Chief said as he leaned forward and tapped the shoulders of the two men sitting at the helm and then turned to face Werner. “Boat level at thirty metres, Captain.”

Captain Werner nodded and thoughtfully rubbed his hand over the long bristles that covered the lower part of his face.

“Very good, Chief. Shut all main vents and check all valves and seals.”

He turned to Stan and smiled.

“And there we go, Stan. We should be able to manage a nice gentle ten to thirteen knots, depending on the current, and still have plenty of battery charge left over. You and your boys may as well settle in and get some sleep.”

In the stern compartment, no one was yet considering sleep. Bull was still transfixed with the ceiling and many other sets of eyes had joined him. Deep resounding groans and creeks echoed within the hull as though some huge hand was trying to squeeze the life out of them. With each crunch and wine, Bull flinched.

“What the fuck is that? Have we run into something?”

Danny was the only one that appeared unaffected by the noises. He remained in his bunk and reading his book.

“Water pressure against the hull,” he said casually. “Even at just thirty metres the pressure is four times as much as it is on the surface. It’s just the sound of the boat’s ribs protesting as they’re being pushed inwards.”

“Pushed inwards? Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Bull grunted without taking his eyes away from the ceiling.

“It’ll settle after a few minutes. This sub could go to two-hundred and fifty metres if it needed. The movement of the ribs is barely detectable at this depth.”

“Well I’m detecting it plenty enough, Danny,” Marty mumbled. “I wish to fuck they’d decided to parachute us in now.”

11

Tina and Christopher were both standing ready. Or at least as ready as they could be before leaving the safety of their hideout and facing the walking corpses that wanted nothing better than to feast on their warm flesh.

Standing beside the hatch set into the left hand side of the huge bay doors, Tina began checking her equipment. They wore thick jackets made from nylon and denim with a number of layers beneath to prevent the teeth of the infected piercing through to their skin. In the reception area, lying in the drawers of the desk, they had found stacks of magazines and newspapers. Now, over their forearms and lower legs they had secured copies of Vogue and Cosmopolitan with duct tape to act as greaves and vambraces. They completed their rudimentary armour with thick work gloves and steel toecap boots.

Tina was wearing her utility belt with her various weapons attached. In her hand, she held her trusty crowbar with her hatchet safely tucked through one of her belt loops for easy retrieval. She looked at her brother. He was pale and sweating heavily but he gave her a decisive nod that indicated he was ready and willing. Again, she paused and watched him for a moment. She could still not understand where his sudden bravery and eagerness had come from.

Was it just the fact that he was terrified of being trapped?

“Okay,” she nodded as she began taking deep breaths in readiness. “Remember the drill, Chris? We head straight for the gate. I close it and you cover me. Stay close and if any of them appear before the opening is sealed, you twat them. Got it?”

“Got it,” he nodded back to her with assuredness. He lifted the heavy steel pipe he had brought with him and gently patted it against his left palm.

“One, Two…” Tina began to count.

Christopher screwed his eyes shut for a moment and sucked in a lung full of air through his whistling nostrils. He was terrified, but despite his trembling hands and thumping heartbeat, he heard his own voice rattling around within his head.

Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up…

Tina pulled the door open and stepped out onto the loading bay ramp. She moved to the side in order to allow her brother to climb through the narrow opening without crashing into her. The loading area was empty of the infected and she wanted to keep it that way. One of them taking a sudden fall could alert the wandering corpses to their presence before they were able to close the gate.

In the far corner, nestled against the edge of the adjacent building and the fence line, she could see the pile of bodies that were covered with the canvas sheet. Clouds of flies buzzed around the heap and even from a range of fifty metres she could smell the sickly sweet tang of the decomposing cadavers. To the right of the loading bay were a number of parked cars slowly rusting away, caked in dust, and overlooked by the large windows of the cafeteria. On their left sat an abandoned heavy goods truck, its windows shattered and its doors lying open. There was no sign of the infected having stumbled in through the gate.

“I thought you said you’d seen some of them down at this end?” Tina muttered back at her brother without taking her eyes off the gate. She had expected to at least see a few of them lumbering around within the space.

“Maybe they left?”

“Come on,” Tina whispered and began to move out into the open and away from the protection of the building.

She took the direct route, heading straight across the open space and towards the gate area in the far right hand corner. As she stepped out from the stretching shadow of the tall building and into the fading sunlight, she felt the difference in the temperature within the multitude of layers that she wore.

Christopher was close behind her, as instructed. His eyes darted continuously from side to side but he kept his face pointed in the direction of Tina’s back. He was determined not to make a mess of this one. More than anything, he wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of overcoming his fears and doing what was necessary.

They were close to the bushes running along the inside of the fence line to their right, separating them from the main parking area in front of the warehouses. The foliage was thick and in full bloom, but now and then, when the light wind managed to catch them in its gusts, the branches would part fleetingly, long enough to allow them a momentary glimpse out on to the car park from between the fluttering leaves. The infected were still a distance away and it appeared that none of them had detected the presence of the two living people. Their shuffling footsteps and low groans could still be heard though. With nothing else to blot out their sounds, the haunting voices were easily audible across the expanse of the parking lot.

Tina, moving in a low crouch, suddenly stopped and Christopher immediately followed suit. His eyes remained locked on his sister’s back, and at her sudden halt, the dread he had been fighting so hard to control began to bubble within his stomach.

“What is it?” He whispered, unsure whether or not he wanted to hear her reply.

She said nothing and kept her attention focussed upon the gate that was just ten metres away from them.

“Tina…”

She turned to him and raised a finger to her lips. Her eyes burned into his and conveyed the urgency of the situation that he was still oblivious to. She held his gaze for a moment, ensuring that he understood that he was to remain still and silent. Then, tentatively, she pointed to the fence beside them.

He turned and followed the line of her finger. At first, he was unable to understand what it was that he was supposed to be seeing. He stared blankly at the wire mesh and blinked. Finally, he realised what she was trying to tell him. The line of bushes had suddenly stopped and the last stretch of the fence line was empty and exposed. The moment they took another step they would be visible to any of the lifeless eyes in the car park that happened to look in their direction. He nodded his understanding and took a small step backwards.

However, Tina was still pointing at the fence and staring wildly at him. He nodded again, thinking that maybe she had not seen his acknowledgement the first time, and went as far as raising his thump to ensure she understood.

She shook her head. Her thickly gloved finger continued to jut out to her side while the remainder of her body, still squatting low to the ground, was frozen to the spot. Christopher realised that there must be more to see than the absence of greenery along the perimeter. He gingerly leaned forward and peered out from behind the last of the bushes. His sister was directly below him now as he towered over her and balanced himself precariously on one leg as he strained to see.

Tina cringed. His colossal body was hanging over her like an unstable protrusion of rock jutting out from a cliff face and she was swallowed up in his shadow, unable to make any sudden movements and get out of his way. She
had
to stay where she was and had no choice but to place her faith in Christopher’s ability to stay upright for once. She prayed that his balance did not falter. If he fell, he would land on top of her and as she was in a squatting position, she imagined herself sustaining all sorts of damage to her back, hips, and lower limbs beneath his crushing weight.

He finally saw what she wanted him to see. His eyes bulged and his mouth instantly lost all its moisture, leaving his tongue dry and feeling as though it was caked in sand, as his body seemed to shrivel with terror. Forcing his weight back onto his planted leg, Christopher brought his raised foot, which had been thrust out behind him and acting as a counterweight, to the ground and placed it firmly beside the other. He stared down at Tina and began to inch his way backwards.

She shook her head slightly and raised her finger to her lips once more.

Just a metre away from them, perched right up against the fence, sat one of the infected. Luckily, it was facing away from them with its back leaning against the steel mesh but Tina could tell that it was far from inactive. Its head twitched as it sat watching the movement of the other bodies in the car park and the birds fluttering about overhead. It gargled and sputtered lightly, as though holding a conversation with itself and commenting on the goings on in the area around it. It was impossible to tell how long the thing had been there for but it must have been for quite some time. Its decaying tissue appeared to have become fused with the intertwining strands of the wire fence. Globs of decomposing skin and muscle seeped through the mesh and a large pool of sticky dark fluid had leaked out from its rectum and formed itself into a black viscous puddle that spread out around the creature.

Its backbone and ribs were devoid of flesh and its white scapulars were laid bare, branching out from the spinal column like a small set of wings. The head, with just a few strands of wispy white, sun-bleached hair clinging stubbornly to the leathery cranium, bobbed continuously, accompanied by low rumbling grunts.

Tina stared at her brother and signalled him to remain where he was. He had been steadily creeping further away from her with terror-filled eyes and quivering shoulders. He was back to his normal self, Tina noted. Gone was the glimmer of hope that she had held for him in becoming an asset to their duo. She glared at him and pushed her hand out a little further in an attempt to reinforce her need for him to stop.

Finally, he halted and watched her. He did not want to be there. The safe and secure warehouse was just a short walk away and he could feel it beckoning him. He wanted to turn and run and allow the building to envelop him in its protective walls but his sister demanded that he stay out in the open, surrounded by the walking dead and risking his life.

Tina crept back beyond the safety of the bushes. She moved along in a crouch, almost hopping from one foot to the other until she was out of sight. She raised herself back to her full height and approached her brother. Again, she raised her fingers to her lips but the expression in her face had softened and seemed more understanding of his fear.

“It’s okay,” she whispered as she pulled herself close to him and raised her mouth towards his ear. “It doesn’t know we’re here. We can still do this, Chris. We just need to be very careful and make sure we don’t make a sound.”

Christopher pulled away from her and began shaking his head. He started to say something but Tina pushed her fingers up against his mouth.

“Chris, we
have
to do this. It was your idea to close the gate and a good one too,” she continued encouragingly and attempting to appeal to his own sense of pride. “We can’t leave it open now. If we do it right, it’ll be over in just a few seconds and we will be back in the warehouse before you know it.”

He looked at her blankly and then up at the gate. It was just a few metres away and it would not take long at all. He glanced at the area of the bushes where he knew the body of the infected sat, just out of sight. It would all be over before the corpse managed to climb to its feet and he would be gone from the area long before it reached the gate. He gulped hard and nodded, closing his eyes and fighting desperately to swallow his fear and force himself into positive action.

Tina smiled and lightly brushed her hand against the thick material that covered his bulky shoulders. He looked down at her glove as she began to turn her head and body away from him. It was the first sign of physical affection she had shown him in months.

Shaking himself internally, Christopher began to creep along behind his sister. As he passed the end of the row of bushes, he glanced nervously to his right and saw the corpse still sitting with its back to them, completely unaware of their presence. He focussed his attention back on the shoulders of Tina and remained within arm’s reach of her.

Don’t fuck this up
, he heard the nagging voice in his head say again.

At the gate, Tina paused and quickly surveyed the area for anything she had missed. Then she turned and glanced back at the sitting infected body just a few metres to her right. She had a clear view of its profile now. Its face looked flat with very little protruding in the way of its features. Its nose had rotted away to nothing more than a hollow stub and its eyes were sunken deep into its skull. She wondered to herself how good its vision was but she quickly shook the thought from her mind. It did not matter and they would know the answer to that particular question soon enough when they slammed the gate shut.

She took a quick glance over her shoulder to check on Christopher. He was close, very close. Stretching her arm out in front of her she began to reach for the rolling gate, but something made her stop dead in her tracks. Something was wrong. They remained unseen but there was definitely a serious threat. Subconsciously she had seen and recognised it but it was taking a while for her brain to register what it was.

The danger was behind her.

Tina slowly turned her body, keeping her feet planted against the tarmac so that she did not create any noise with a careless foot movement. Christopher’s bulk came into view and his face appeared as she slowly panned around to her right. His eyes were blazing at her and his lips were curled back into a snarl. Then she recognised the barrel of the gun that was being pointed directly at her face.

Where the fuck did that come from?
She gasped internally.

Christopher’s hands were shaking but the muzzle remained firmly pointing into the area between her eyes. He had taken a step backwards, careful not to get too close to her and allow his sister the opportunity to snatch the weapon from his trembling hand.