The Undead Day Twenty (18 page)

Outside the last house on the bay, she fights and leads those men who see a young woman with blue eyes slaying them with a speed that isn’t right to see. Lilly’s army forms. Lilly’s army is formed there at that point.

Boudicca reborn. Joan of Arc rising to rally for there is no more a nobler cause for warriors to fight for than what she is now. On her they form. On her they fight. For her they will die. For what she is and what she means. All of them to the last is consumed by the pure emotion within them to hold and fight for her.

As strong as they are. As fierce as their sudden devotion is. They cannot hold against so many. It cannot be done. Hundreds pour down the road. Hundreds swarming into the fray. Hundreds that screech and don’t feel pain or fatigue. They fell many. Those few kill more than they should but the pressure against them increases. The frenzied rage of those who attack beat them back towards the beach and the people still screaming in fear.

She slices deep, scoring the blade through the flesh to let the innards fall to snag the legs of the one coming at her. She dances back and feints left but goes right to drive the point into a throat of a woman that is hacked down by a tattooed man wielding a huge meat cleaver. Blood sprays, coating her arms and body. Teeth on her leg. She grunts and stamps down, booting the thing in the face. Back she goes with the line. Slashing left and right and knowing that each body taken down is an obstacle formed for the rest to clamber over. The road becomes slick. The stench of shit and blood fills their noses. Grunts sound all around her. Fighting is hard work. She glances back, seeing the shore still too full. Seeing the boats moving as fast as they can. Just a few more minutes. They’ll come. She knows it. She can feel it. Gary goes down. Ripped from his feet to be raked deep by dirty jagged nails. One of Peter’s men goes in after him. Fighting them back as more rush to drag Gary free but the soldier knows the damage is done. With the lust of the battle in his eyes he drops his weapon, pulls a grenade, bites the pin out and runs deep into the ranks of undead with a wild scream.

‘DOWN,’ Lilly screams. The men turn away as the muffled whump blows metres away. Blood and body parts fly overhead. A hole formed. A sensation of pressure easing. The men flood back in to hold the line as Lilly grabs the machete dropped by Gary to swing and kill.

‘Go love…’ Peter hisses next to her.

‘They’ll come,’ she snarls, lowering for the next.

‘There’s too many, will you see sense now will you?’

‘Fight. They’ll come…’

Eleven

He holds the wheel with both hands. The pressure is back. The pressure to be there now. The pressure to be moving faster. The Saxon feels alive beneath him. The engine as deep and throaty as ever as she gives what she can to gain speed down the road. Past hedges they fly. The sea on one side. Glittering and inviting. Silence inside save for the vibration of the chassis.

Through the last corner they go to gain the view ahead. Hundreds laying siege to a fight taking place next to the last house on the bay. Their house. The one Lilly saved for them. She’s in there. She’s in that fight now. They know it. They feel it.

‘Fishtail?’ Clarence asks, glaring at the back of the solid horde.

‘Yeah?’ Howie asks, gripping the wheel harder.

‘Fishtail,’ Clarence says.

‘Fishtail,’ Howie says, nodding once.

‘Worked before,’ Clarence says, turning to face the back. ‘FISHTAIL…’

‘Fishtail,’ Blowers shouts. Legs shoot out to brace on seats opposite.

‘Fishtail,’ Cookey shouts down to Mo and Dave.

‘Fishtail,’ Dave says, pushing his legs out to brace.

Nick leans forward, wrapping his arms round the dog. Cookey loops one arm under Nick’s shoulder. Blowers the other. Marcy leans forward to brace Nick and the dog as Blinky stretches to hold Marcy and Maddox, her hand grabbing his arm. He stares round seeing everyone else bracing as though they’re about to crash. He grabs Blinky’s arm. His feet going out to push against the seat opposite.

‘Ready,’ Clarence says.

‘Give ‘em some warning…’

‘Roger that,’ Clarence says, taking up the microphone for the loudspeaker. He thumbs the switch and inhales.
‘COMING IN HARD…MOVE BACK MOVE BACK…COMING IN HARD…’

‘Fishtail,’ Howie says, straightening his arms to lock his body in place.

‘Fishtail,’ Clarence says, pushing his hands against the front.

‘FISHTAIL,’ Howie shouts, steaming towards the horde.

‘Fucking fishtail,’ Cookey mutters.

‘NOW,’ Howie says. The Saxon hits the horde. The solid metal front slamming the bodies aside and under the wheels. The horde reacts faster than ever before. Turning to fling into the arches above the tyres. Howie slams the wheel over, his foot hitting the brake to bring the big rear end out sliding sideways into the human wall. Outside they pop apart. Explosions of bodies bursting from the immense impact. Huge bangs from hard bone versus solid metal. Inside they feel the vibrations and hear the dinks and donks of the bodies popping but feel the sensation of the big vehicle spinning to slew wildly. Maddox slides off his seat. Blinky grabs him, Nick holds the dog. Everyone else holds Nick. Mo and Dave braced at the back with their hands on the door handles waiting for the motion to stop.

‘FISHTAILING,’ Howie shouts, seeing the world outside spinning round.

‘Fishtailing,’ Clarence mutters, his eyes squeezed shut until the vehicle stops moving.

‘Fucking fishtailing,’ Cookey mouths.

‘They’re fishtailing,’ Roy says, pointing ahead through the windscreen of his van. ‘We’re not doing that.’

‘Thank fuck,’ Paula lets the breath go.

Roy slows his van knowing he can’t anchor the brakes on for fear of the trailer sliding out. Charlie remains low on Jess, her head buried in the horses mane. She feels the vehicle slowing and her own heart rate increasing. She rotates her wrist to make sure the axe tether is on tight.

‘Ready, girl?’ she whispers and hears the sounds of the Saxon slamming into the bodies. ‘They’re fishtailing,’ she tells Jess.

A dull metallic noise outside. Light floods in. The doors open. Jess pushes out to dance into the road as Charlie rises in the saddle to gain the view of the world around her.

‘COME ON, JESS,’ she screams, Jess rallies, surging to bunch and explode out with awesome power towards the horde.

The Saxon slides deep. The weight of the vehicle and the speed generated travelling her deep into the battle. Finally it stops. A second of silence as heads shake to feel where they are in time and space.

‘NOW,’ Howie roars. Doors open. Mo and Dave leap to drop and land easy to twist on the spot and run.

Roy is out of his door, twisting to grab the handle to pull himself up onto the roof. His bow in his hand. His bag thrown up ahead. On his feet. Bow righted. Arrow out, nocked, he lifts as he exhales and settles his gaze on the battle taking place. His eyes searching for blond hair amidst the carnage. Calm inside now. All thoughts of ill health vanish. All worries ease away. He is centred within the world. There. He finds her and looses the first that flies true and straight while the next is nocked.

Lilly smiled at the sound of Clarence’s voice. She knew they’d come. She knew it in her heart. ‘GO BACK,’ she screamed. The men didn’t need telling twice. They fell back and away but the infected went after them. Chasing to keep the pressure of the attack on.

The Saxon hit with a sickening crunch and never in her life did she ever think to see such a thing. A huge army vehicle coming in front first at a speed that made her think it would go right through to the other side. Then it turned to slide and the back end slammed through the horde as the vehicle went side into them. As one the infected turned to fight into it. She saw the change. The split second reaction of the horde switching to attack the new arrival.

In the second of silence after the Saxon stopped so the sound of hoof beats filled the air. Heavy and solid and with a woman screaming on the top of the great horse swinging an axe to ride into the lines.

That sparked the fight back on. The sensation of rage increased as the hundreds left screeched to fight and take what they can.

Lilly spins to take the one down coming at her but finds it taken by an arrow embedding into the back of its head, sending it flying past her. She looks up, seeing Roy on his van nodding as he fires the next. A split second later another one is taken down an inch from her body.

This is what Nick does. This is why Nick walks away each time. Because of this. Because of those doors opening to disgorge the lads screaming to join the fight. Howie diving from the driver’s door deep into the undead as Clarence launches after him. She spots Marcy jumping from the back doors to run towards Roy’s van firing her assault rifle into the infected as she goes. Another gun joins in. Paula firing from the back by the horse trailer as another big man comes running round to sprint towards the fight. She knows him. Everyone knows him. Paco Maguire.

The pulse hits. The surge of energy that flows from each to the other. It fuels Paco. Days of fighting have honed his skills. His strength is staggering. His speed immense. He has the good of the evil, he does not feel pain, he has no voice in his head telling him a thing is too heavy or too hard to do and so he goes in snarling to slam three down in one sickening crunch of human forms being compressed. His feet start working. Stamping to break heads and necks. He picks one up, an adult female and flings her one handed into three more. He grabs another. A big man that finds his head wrenched to the side before he’s thrown through the air.

Howie rises to his feet in the midst. His axe gripped and already swinging as they wilt back from him. He cleaves deep, swinging fast to clear them away. As he turns to the left so Clarence runs past his right shoulder to barrel into them.

Mo and Dave do as their mission dictates. Side by side through the horde that fall sudden and quick from Achilles tendons and hamstrings cut by surgically sharp blades. Lilly blinks once, blinks twice and they are there. The pair of them turning as one with their backs to her to face anything that comes. They lower stances to flick blades up against their forearms as another arrow swooshes a foot away.

‘Heaven be Jesus,’ a thick accent mutters near her.

‘
LILLY SAFE,’
Dave roars through the battle.

‘YE’LL DIE NOW YE HEATHEN BASTARDS…THE LIGHT IS HERE…DO YE SEE IT?’

‘Is that Kyle?’ Mo asks as they both look towards the booming voice.

‘It is,’ Lilly says from behind them.

‘JUST A COOK YEAH?’ Howie shouts, grinning like a fiend as the ground around him runs thick with blood.

‘BACK TO SATAN YE BASTARDS…’

‘That Father’s a maniac, Peter.’

The lads steam in. An arrow head formation with Blowers at the lead, forcing a path through the infected to Howie and Clarence. Meredith ahead of them ragging bodies aside and launching to rip throats out. So many things happening. So many things to see. With Mo and Dave in front and a dozen strong men at her sides she views the thing Nick has told her about. The way Charlie and Jess ride through the lines slamming them aside only to stop and rear up as the horse spins round on her back legs. The size of the beast. The sheer aggression on what should be a gentle herding creature. Those front feet come down hard into soft bodies that burst open. Jess’s rear end doing a smaller version of what the Saxon did and knocking them away like dominoes as she spins round in an ever widening circle and all the time with Charlie swinging the axe.

‘LILLY IS SAFE…’ Howie’s voice, a flicker of reaction in every one of the team. ‘FIGHT OUT…’

‘Shit,’ Lilly never swears. She loves it when Nick swears because it is a part of him and never done with malice but to swear now is the only response to give. Seeing them come from the Saxon was one thing. Seeing them launch the attack was something else but to see them turn and fight simply to kill is a wholly new level of brutality.

Nick! She sees him wield the double-headed axe with a strange wry smile on his face. The speed of him. The strength in his arms. The cleanness and purity of him glows amidst the darkness of the ugly beasts around them, she watches him with adoration and love showing through the icy composure. Something catches her eye.  A body rising up high to be taken back down and even from this distance and with so many other sounds in her ears she hears the body hit the ground. A space forms. A circle of death around Clarence as he spins while gripping that same ruined body to wither the infected around him. A human battering ram. A corpse as a weapon. A heavy adult too. He goes faster. The genial loving man changes to a berserker that destroys with a crazed roar coming from his huge chest. He stamps and flings them aside to die. He rages and thumps and breaks anything near him. Another body lifts in the air. Her eyes flick to see Paco launching one away then turning to boot one in the guts that goes back knocking more over. He runs into them, grabbing one that is used to beat the others with then throws it away when it becomes too broken and soggy.

‘You see that?’ Cookey gasps.

‘Huh?’ Blowers asks, taking a head off.

‘Paco.’

‘Where?’

‘Behind us.’

‘Hang on,’ Blowers lashes out hard, clearing space to turn. ‘Fuck me…’

‘We got two Clarence’s now,’ Cookey says, jumping back as one goes flying past him with an arrow stuck in her head.
‘Cheers, Roy.’

‘Welcome.’

‘Cunt cunt…cunty cunt…you’re a cunt and you can cunt off you cunt…’

‘You swear more than I do,’ Nick mutters from behind her.

‘FUCK YOURSELF…cunt…oh you dirty cunt…give me my fucking axe back…FUCK IT,’ she screams, trying to yank the blade from sternum in which it is currently embedded. She tugs harder. An arrow flits past her head taking one out. She tugs again. Another arrow flies under her chin. She stamps down to add leverage. Another arrow flies. ‘CUNT IT…’ she stamps and tugs, heaving the body about the ground while Roy kills everything around her. ‘HA!’ She staggers back with the axe now back in her hands. Roy tuts mildly, twitches his aim and looses the next.

‘Running low on arrows,’ Roy calls down.

‘I’ll add it to the list,’ Paula calls up, her rifle still held into her shoulder.

‘Who do you think those men are?’ Marcy asks.

‘Don’t know, Marce,’ Paula says.

‘Did you just call me Marce?’

‘Yep. Problem?’

‘Nope. My friends used to call me Marce.’

‘Yeah? So it’s okay then? Paco’s doing well, Heather.’

‘Oh very,’ Marcy says. ‘Reminds me of Clarence.’

‘Er…yeah, yeah I guess he does,’ Paula says lightly in a tone that earns a quick glance from Marcy. ‘What?’

‘What?’ Marcy asks.

‘Why you looking at me like that?’

‘No reason,’ Marcy says, narrowing her eyes before looking away.

Reginald watches the monitor on the desk showing the high-definition camera feeds from the lenses fitted in the van’s light clusters. He watches Paco, examining the way the man moves. He tries to spot all of them in turn but only catches glimpses here and there. Clarence is easy to see because of his size. He wants to watch Maddox but can’t find him. He waits for a while longer, hoping the numbers reducing will give him a better view but the tuts of frustration come closer together. He just can’t see it all from here. He would launch the drone but the speed of the fight tells him it will be mostly over before he can get the thing launched and operated.

There’s nothing for it. He stands quickly, huffing with irritation as he opens the back door and tuts again at the connecting bar of the horse trailer that he has to navigate. The heat hits him first. That solid wall of humidity. The noise comes next. It was muffled in the van but now he can hear every awful squishy squashy sound of wet flesh being torn and bones snapping. He peers from the back end, leaning further and further out before taking that first step into the road. Still no good. He still can’t see properly. He goes out wider, frowning and blinking and still bending forward.